"HOW CAN I KEEP FROM SINGING"

I have always found that old Baptist spiritual to be hauntingly beautiful .

 My life flows on in endless song;

Above earth's lamentation,

 I hear the sweet, tho' far-off hymn

That hails a new creation;

Thro' all the tumult and the strife

I hear the music ringing;

It finds an echo in my soul--

How can I keep from singing.

Yes , there is the clamor tumult and strife. It seems like we have never been with out it.

The wails of the poor. 

The screams of the injured.

 The fear of the dying.

The resignation of the conquered.

And at the very  same moments there are spectacular morning sunrises and sunsets that take my breath away.

There are fireworks that seem to spontaneously erupt behind the gingerbread pink church, I am watching comfortably from the corner window of the office.

The hot air balloon that drifts by on a Saturday morning. The sounds of music from all corners of the city floating by on evening breezes. The sight of a decorated donkey carrying tequila through the streets with a crowd of people following with tiny tasting glasses dangling from their necks. Giant puppets dancing in the setting sun, people with large paper stars raised on poles high above their heads, twirling as a brass band leads them into the town square. The sun is setting and back lights the stars as they come into my view.
Dancers dresses as indigenous tribes of Mexico , In their colorful costumes and huge head feather head dresses dance to the pounding beats of huge drums . In the background to all this is the gingerbread pink church ringing its bell towers by men pulling on long thick ropes.
The cacophony of sound is amazing. A biking group is watching it all. The Mariachi bands are playing, and the town clown is making balloon "animals" for young ones. People with huge lens cameras are everywhere. Amid the sound, color, and movement the beggar woman sits with her babies, while "older" children are working the crowd with their most filthy clothes and saddest looks they can come up with while asking for money for the two Chiclets gum pack they are offering.The older women just sit with hands outstretched. The usuals are all about as well. The over abundance of balloon sellers, cripples,and women selling embroidery. What appears to be a special occasion is not all that unusual in this town. There seems to be a major festival with a varying cast of characters and always an unfathomable mix of symbols every other fin de semana (weekend) 

Yet

somewhere in the world

war is raging

and there is tumult and strife unimaginable in this surrealistic space

But my heart fills with color, sound, and happy smiles. 

How can I keep from singing?
check out the photo album of this post.
http://www.wikialbums.com/publicalbums.aspx?album=12310513022913299110106282181477920164115612993181868329

MY NEIGHBOR SINGS

I have never seen him up close. My roof top overlooks his courtyard and once I caught a glimpse of him getting on his 4 wheeler. He looked like a middle age, slightly overweight man.
Each day the music begins. It can be 10 AM or 2PM of 8 at night. It is full blast and only a brick wall separates our Mexican houses. Both our yards are open to the sky. The sound is as if he is standing right in my yard yet he is unseen.
The music is operatic, poetic, and lovely, all in the romantic sound of Spanish. There is nothing quite as lovely as a man singing in Spanish unless it is a man singing in Italian or French. As the music swells he begins to sing louder and louder. He sings as if no one in the world can hear him and the fact is that I am sure everyone in a 3 block area can hear him It never lasts more than an hour or so and I am always a little sad when the silence sets in again. His voice is pleasant and I think how different this is . In the United States, it would be considered rude to blast your music and voice beyond the confines of your designated space. It is socially unacceptable to expose your neighbors to your passionate singing.It is sweet and common here in Mexico , the land of the Mariachi Men.

Life here is very real and vibrant especially when it comes to music.
How many times I have sung at the top of my lungs. Yes, I do admit it. But these unabashed moments were always in my car with the windows rolled up as I pass other silent drivers with moving mouths. The singing man next door reminds me of how good it feels to sing without shame. He enriches my day.





 I wonder if he ever glimpses his neighbor dancing in the full moon's light just above his courtyard as if no one is watching her.

A WORLD WITHOUT WALMART

Who in America can conceive of a world without seeing a WalMart in a day? or 2 within a mile?

I don't know how many Americans actually saw it coming but I know I did.They moved into my home state of Wisconsin in the 80's and nothing has been quite the same since. I , of course, was amazed at the low prices and who could resist that slogan" Bring it home to the USA" .We were lead to believe this company actually cared about American made merchandise. And look at all those jobs they provided for older Americans and single moms. 

What could not be good about that? But something always felt a little off to me even from the beginning. Yes, things were cheaper there than my hometown pharmacy, hardware, or clothing store. I told myself it was Ok because this was the American way. But there was that nagging question. How can they make these things so much cheaper. Then the slogan changed to "Always the Low Price" and my small town pharmacy, hardware and clothing store went out of business. WalMarts added food and became Super Centers, Sam's Clubs and hundreds of other names around the world. Yes, something very big was happening here and within a decade the face of American changed. Then the real story came out that most of the merchandise is made in China and other foreign lands.The Walton family and this corporation has become the riches in the entire world selling Americans on the idea that cheap is all that matters. Let us all buy as much cheaply made shit as we can. Cheap shit that breaks because it is very consciously made to break. That way you will need more cheap shit soon. And we can pay to ship this broken cheap crap back to the country that made it to fill  their land fills.

 WalMart is the 666 demon foretold ,who has come to play on our greatest weakness . GREED. It has allowed the heart and soul of Americans to be rotted away in a mind altering hypnosis of greed. Always the lowest prices will be it's epitaph.

I could not see and still do not see how this blight on the face of the country I once loved would ever be reconciled. What could we turn those butt ugly building into if Wal Marts would just fade off the face of the earth? So among many other reasons I have moved to Mexico. 





The town is ancient compared to any town in America.

It is a 15th century jewel. A World Heritage Site. The absolute polar opposite of the WalMart world. It is a town full of tourist who come to see how life once was. And there are a hundred thousand of us who get to live life as it once was. A life of breath taking beauty. 

 Yes, there is a Mexican WalMart on the far edge of town . I have not been in it. (If you have seen one you have seen them all).It is not the center of commerce here. 
The life that once was is still very much alive. And it is the life we live.

 Tiny grocery stores are conveniently in every neighborhood. They are places where you can just take a tiny moment to get milk, eggs, or vegetables, without the major energy expenditure of parking your car, walking  a block to the doorway, seeing at least 100 other people and waiting in line so the robotic clerk can wish you a nice day. She uses her technically advanced machine that beeps my stuff through and tells her exactly how much change to return to me.

My little neighborhood store is the large garage of my Mexican neighbor. His entire family is living in and around the store because it is also their home. His children come out to stare at my neon orange hair. His dog lays on the balcony over the store. I take my selected items to the counter. He gets out a piece of paper and a pen , adds them up and makes change using his math skills.We make eye contact. No one else is waiting in line . I do not feel the need to move along. I smile at him, his wife, his children.

I know he appreciates my pesos. He feeds his family with them I leave feeling like a real human being
and he and I have had a real exchange and 

 I do have a nice day.