HUGUENOT! This is a hard word to spell when you’re in kindergarten. I had just learned how to spell the name of the street I lived on when the name was changed to Hollywood. Without moving, I now lived at 494 S. Hollywood Street.
Our house seemed big to me, but it was just a three-room shotgun house. The front room was immediately followed by the bedroom and then the kitchen. The front and back doors in alignment, earning the name of a shotgun house, for the saying goes that if one shot a bullet straight through from the front door of the house to the back door, it would exit without ever touching anything.
This was the house my grandparents felt blessed to live in after moving from the Mississippi Delta to Memphis as part of the Great Migration. My mother and I lived in the house with them. One of my earliest memories of living in the house was using a slop jar to do our “business.” It was not until the house was rebuilt after the fire that we had a toilet in the house.
“Mother dear”—“Muhdear” in my mouth—and I slept in the same bed, which took up most of the space in the front room. Just across from the foot of the bed was room for a small couch where my grandparents sat and listened to the radio and later watched television. On the right side (when facing the bed), there was just enough space for a chair at the head of the bed. In a corner on the left side was a tiered “whatnot” with a picture of me as a baby on the top shelf. I don’t remember the picture, but I do remember the frame—oval with a wide black border with pink and white flowers on one side. I liked the frame. Years later, I was told that this only picture of me as a baby was lost in the fire…
It used to make me angry and demoralized to think that my race, gender, assumed economic position, body image, sexual identity, religion, or my divergence from commonly accepted standards of beauty could diminish the power of my contributions, whether in public speaking, writing, or being part of a group where I was the minority. These prejudices were wrong and will never be right. In hindsight, though, I am grateful for the results these challenges afforded me.
I think that these challenges and experiences have…
been invaluable in enhancing my desire and capacity to learn about the lives and experiences of others, especially those who are often described as “marginalized;”
deepened my well of empathy and compassion for others;
honed my skills in identifying and supporting individuals and groups who feel that they don’t belong and are not valued; and
fueled my resolve to be ever diligent in remaining self-aware in my interactions with others.
Recalling and reflecting on my experiences leads me to conclude that they have been instrumental in making me the person I am, for which I’m grateful. However, the intellectual analysis is only part of the reflection:
The feelings of pain, humiliation, and anger are easily relived when I recall how vulnerable I felt as a student. I sometimes wonder how I might have achieved at my university if I had not feared and distrusted my academic adviser, who was also one of my professors.
These feelings were magnified within me because I felt that assumptions were being made about my intellectual abilities leading to questions about whether or not I had the right to walk the grounds and enter the classrooms.
The times when I felt worse were those times when I was made to feel invisible.
Recalling my feelings and thinking as I do now, I’m encouraged that many colleges and universities are taking their role as humanist institutions seriously by taking giant steps to create a campus climate where no one—faculty, staff, student, or administrator—will feel as I often felt on college and university campuses in each of these roles.
One of my strengths is learning. I don’t confine my curiosity to any one field. I love learning about all kinds of things, and I have a habit of taking a lot of notes in order to reflect on what I’ve read or heard. Unfortunately, my handwriting is almost illegible, so I miss a lot of the content of what I’ve read or heard because I can’t decipher my own handwriting. When I review my notes, I feel as if I’ve accomplished something if I can decipher enough of my handwriting to glean at least one take-away.
The following are take-aways from a few of the webinars, podcasts, editorials, and random readings I engaged with between April 2018 and June 2020:
41% of all undergraduates attend community colleges and there are fewer community colleges today than there were 20 years ago. “Social Justice Summit: Advocacy, Access, and Engaging Equity in Community Colleges,” Western Illinois University, Webinar – Moderator: Laila McCloud; Speaker: Eboni M. Zamali-Gallagher, Director, University of Illinois Office of Community College Research and Leadership (June 9, 2020)
“A society not grounded in ethics, self-reflection, empathy, and beauty is one that has lost its way.” (Brian Rosenberg, 17 years as President of Macalester College) “The End of College as We Knew It.” Frank Bruni, The New York Times Opinion Piece (June 4, 2020)
Do assessments, consider the context, address multiple identities, and determine who the interventions serve. “The Upended Student Life Cycles-How Student Affairs Can Serve Students in a Chaotic Time,” The Chronicle of Higher Education, Webinar – Host: Ian Wilhelm, editor; Speakers: Nancy Young, Vice President, Student Affairs, University of Maryland Baltimore County; Christie Kracker, Dean of Students and Campus Life, Susquehanna University. (May 29, 2020)
Gamification is everywhere; you just don’t think about it. It uses game-inspired tools rooted in psychology (motivators, fun) to influence behavior. “What is Gamification?” Eric Myers, Mindspace-The Creative Learning Agency, ATD Monthly Webinar (April 27, 2020)
MOVE, EAT, RECOVER. What’s one step I will take to move, eat, and recover more effectively? “Healthy Living for Busy Professionals.” Tyrone Holmes, ATD Monthly Webinar (March 26, 2020)
Expect people to learn and grow; don’t freeze-frame others. Meet people where they are and scaffold the learning. “Dynamics of White Privilege,” Kathy Obear, Founder/Director, The Center for Transformation and Change, Webinar (November 8, 2019)
Each election becomes a way people measure their self-esteem. When their party loses, all of their identities lose. If your group does well, you feel better. “The Age of ‘Mega-Identity’ Politics,” The Ezra Klein Show, Podcast (April 30, 2018)
Though the official Election Day has come and gone, there is still uncertainty about the final outcome of the 2020 election. What is certain is that everyone in the academic community needs to work harder than ever to contribute to the creation of a safe, healthy, and inclusive environment that encourages and supports students who are coping with unprecedented challenges.
Following the 2016 election, my friend, Shannon Ellis, vice president for student affairs at the University of Nevada, Reno, and I wrote messages to our colleagues in Student Affairs. These messages may still resonate, so I’m sharing them here.
Joy, dismay, fear, elation, security, vulnerability, anger, betrayal, despair, hope. The results of the 2016 presidential election elicited a wide spectrum of reactions from both colleagues and students. The breadth and strength of the reactions prompted us to write to you, our colleagues, who, like our country, reflect diversity in all its forms including ideologies, attitudes, opinions and beliefs. Our message is a call to you to emerge, as you always have done, in order to do the important work of helping all stakeholders come together as a community to help students succeed in the broadest and most all-encompassing sense of the word.
If you are feeling as if what you believed about our nation is out of sync with today’s reality, reflect on what Jon Stewart said in an interview with Charlie Rose on CBS This Morning, November 17, 2016: “I don’t believe we are a fundamentally different country today than we were two weeks ago. The same country with all its grace and flaws, and volatility, and insecurity, and strength, and resilience exists today as it existed two weeks ago. The same country that elected Donald Trump elected Barack Obama.”
Post-election Silver Linings Playbook: Recommitting to Core Principles of Higher Education by Dr. Shannon Ellis January 20, 2017
This Is It: Student Affairs for “Such a Time as This” by Dr. Gwen Dungy January 20, 2017
Events have revealed a truth, and it’s a truth we must acknowledge and understand so we may best serve our students. There is great value in knowing where the country truly stands and clarify our role as Student Affairs professionals.
So, how is our work different now?
Let’s start where we usually do not – with ourselves. Some of us were elated at the outsider being placed in a position in which he could tell insiders how things should be run. Some of us were crest fallen when it was clear the glass ceiling had not yet been shattered by the first female president.
Add to that the students – Trump and Clinton supporters alike – who sought counsel from us. Black women wept, telling us they feared for their safety. Black men asked us, “How are you doing?” White women in both camps were in disbelief. Women who supported Trump felt empowered by their belief that political correctness around equal pay and affirmative action would be dissolved. Women who supported Clinton were stunned, some wondering aloud about what kind of sexist workplace awaited them post-graduation. Legal and undocumented immigrant students feared for themselves, their parents, and their siblings. Not only were there incidents of “fisticuffs” between roommates at the University of Nevada, Reno but deep divisions also surfaced among staff, characterized by chilling silence and sensitivity to words like “aftermath.”
As Student Affairs professionals, we now are put to the test to stand by a belief in a “no-censorship” approach to life – both on and off campus. We recommit to that principle of higher education.
Journalist and activist Gloria Steinem points out that the election is evidence that we are not living in a post-sexist, post-racist society. Seeing opportunity in the election results, scholar Shaun Harper wrote in The Chronicle of Higher Education (January 9, 2017), “The polarizing nature of the 2016 campaign makes improving the racial climate a more urgent matter for higher education leaders…Donald Trump has given us a gift – in that the racial ugliness of our nation has been exposed.”
If the silver lining of the presidential election is that there is no longer any doubt that racism and other biases and prejudices persist, Harper also provides the following warning: “If we’re not careful, we will see a very serious clash of races on campuses. We shouldn’t wait for that to happen.”
Jon Stewart said “there is this idea that anyone who voted for [Trump] has to be defined by the worst of his rhetoric. There are guys in my neighborhood that I love and respect, that I think have incredible qualities, who are not afraid of Mexicans, not afraid of Muslims, and not afraid of Blacks. They’re afraid of their insurance premiums.”
What is our role as Student Affairs professionals, then? I will tell you! It is to help students, faculty, and staff avoid viewing any group – Trump supporters, Clinton supporters, Muslims, immigrants, ANY labeled group – as a monolith.
The Student Affairs professionals needed today will help students wrestle with ideas, with perspectives and viewpoints that offend. These professionals will console, challenge, and affirm who students are and their aspirations for who they will become personally and professionally. Our time to develop this openness and willingness with students is brief. We are all on a lifelong journey to determine who we are – each of our students is a part of our journey, and we are just one part of theirs. This is our time to help students on our campuses be courageous, open, resolute – even stubborn – and willing to change their minds. This is, after all, what the academic world prides itself on – intellectual inquiry that requires an openness for discovering new ideas, overturning assumptions and biases, all in pursuit of truth. Higher education should model for all the ability to take joy in learning and growing, as well as the ability to welcome the ambiguity of “not knowing.”
Versatile, disciplined, resourceful, and emotionally strong are some characteristics of successful Student Affairs professionals. These are transferable skills valued in many professions, but you chose to work in a college environment. Now is the time to navigate caution signs without losing either patience or direction and thrive, helping your institution prioritize students’ intellectual learning and emotional development by ensuring a supportive environment. Ensuring a supportive environment in times such as this will require different approaches, new tools, and a clear understanding of what you need to do your job.
While others may view the possibility of turbulence on campus as a problem, you see an environment where you can shape and contribute to the future of students and your institution, alike, in an unprecedented manner. You embrace your role as mediator when there are controversies related to diversity, equity, and inclusion. You support faculty and other colleagues who create a space for dialogue and conversation about sensitive and controversial issues.
Times demand you shift focus solely from students within the bailiwick of Student Affairs to the entire campus. No one office, division, unit or person can create an inclusive and equitable campus climate. Wrenching change demands a new approach to collaboration.
Collaborate with your Diversity, Inclusion and Equity Office. You are in an optimal position to help faculty, staff, students, and administrators contribute to a climate of inclusion. Who more than professionals in Student Affairs understand how important it is for every member of the community to feel a sense of belonging? Extend your reach. Actions speak louder than words. Equity and inclusion must permeate a diverse institution at every level, every position, and every role. All stakeholders are responsible for identifying who is marginalized and in what circumstance.
Executive leaders have important visible and symbolic roles to play when there are demands for a shift in the focus of the institution. With your support, your campus leaders will understand and address what students need in order to feel a sense of belonging, to be assured they are getting the quality education expected, and to believe their opinions matter. You can help these leaders become more knowledgeable about campus climate and help make inclusion the norm.
As a professional in Student Affairs, you also have skills that support faculty, but not all faculty may be aware of these skills. Help faculty identify common experiences for students to share that both support curricular objectives and allow for the expression of differing opinions and emotions in a facilitated academic environment. This kind of environment will help students experience deep learning and discover the core of who they are. Offer your help to facilitate these discussions. Be the champion of intellectual learning coupled with personal development.
Likewise, staff who employ or mentor students may need your help to ensure they take advantage of teachable moments.
It is during these times that you need to shift your focus to the community at-large. Your education, training, and access to students have prepared you to do this work. During times that are both propitious and unfavorable, you must increase your communication and visibility with all stakeholders. To play a major role as mediator, mentor, teacher, and leader in an educational environment during uncertain times is why you went into Student Affairs. This is it. This is the time for you to assume your role with confidence and to ask for what you need to do your job.
“Magnificent obsession.” I have been intrigued by this phrase I find oxymoronic ever since I first heard it as the title of a book and at least two films.
While an obsession can be helpful if it ultimately leads one to success after doggedly pursuing a vision about one thing above all else, it can be detrimental if one thing is pursued to the exclusion of all else yet the goal is never achieved.
Therefore, I don’t think an obsession can ever be “magnificent” because of all the other wonders that are missed while pursuing the one vision or goal.
However, I think it’s magnificent to be obsessed or passionate about something.
How did she know?
As evidence of how loving, obedient, giving, and helpful her teenaged daughter was, the mother would often tell the story of how when she was deeply occupied and intent on her writing, she would drink copious cups of tea. During these times, her sweet, kind, and perfect daughter, without any hint of resentment, would, when the cup was empty, ask her mother if she wanted more tea.
To keep the cup full, the daughter would have to interrupt the cleaning, washing, ironing, or studying that she was doing, walk down a long hallway to the kitchen, put the kettle on the stove, wait for the water to get hot, pour the tea, and bring it back to the front parlor where her mother sat writing. The daughter was mindful to fill the cup to the rim with hot water covering the Lipton tea bag, carefully carrying it so as not to spill any tea into the saucer where it would wet the wedge of lemon.
On one of these days, the daughter asked, “Mother, do you know that this is your 13th cup of tea?” The girl’s mother replied, “Yes, baby, 13 is your lucky number.”
Triggers of deep memory
Her feet are never dirty because she showers twice a day and uses a long-handled brush to scrub her feet with soap. Every time she scrubs her feet unnecessarily thoroughly, she recalls a time when she would use her forefinger to slowly rub the area between her ankle bone and Achilles heel into rolls of moist black dirt. Though she yearned for a bath, there was no opportunity.
She brushes her teeth more than twice a day when possible. Each time she has to caution herself not to brush too long and too hard. She is so grateful that she has what she needs to brush her teeth because there was a time when she did not have a toothbrush or toothpaste, and rinsing her mouth with water and using her forefinger to rub across her teeth was not enough to keep the green border from forming just below her gums on her upper front teeth. She covered her mouth when she smiled so the green would not show.
It is not enough that food be freely given – it must be plentiful and eagerly given or she will lose all desire for it. She will become angry with the person who, in her distorted interpretation of the situation, is withholding the food or grudgingly giving it. It’s only after one of these episodes of feeling infuriated and then ashamed for being so unreasonably angry that she reflects on why she reacts this way.
There was a time when her meals consisted of a small amount of food apportioned on a plate, which was left on a stove as if for a pet. Unable to access the snacks in the pantry or the popsicles and ice cream in the large freezer chest because they were padlocked, she chose not to eat at all.
“Here’s the thing . . .” During normal conversation when someone says, “Here’s the thing,” I listen more intently and know that this is what I should pay most attention to. However, during this presidential campaign season, the phrase, “Here’s the thing” seems to have become more of a habit or speech tic similar to the habit some have of ending every declarative sentence with the question, “Does that make sense?”
As we get closer to the official date for the end of voting for the leader of our nation, I am facing the reality that no matter who becomes President of the United States, and regardless of his good intentions and promises, there are many rivers and tributaries between the promises of the candidates and their ability to accomplish their stated goals. The reality is that our electoral system and the established checks and balances of our government will rule in the end.
Hopefully, the Electoral College will vote according to the preferences of the majority of citizens in their state. And, ideally for the intended purposes of checks and balances, Representatives, Senators, and Justices will always serve along with the Executive Branch in the best interest of the country. As we have seen in the past, however, these structures of checks and balances can be politicized to either support or blunt the desires and promises of the popularly elected leader of the land. Therefore, if the reality of checks and balances does not support the highest hopes of the individual voter, it could cause those who worked hard to get out the vote, campaigned for their candidate, contributed money to campaigns, and voted early to lose perspective and faith in whatever they believed in that inspired their activism.
In preparing myself to accept the outcome of the presidential election, I think that I might use the speech tics I mentioned in my opening paragraph. For example, I will answer the literary refrain, “Does this make sense?” with the declaration: It does not make sense for me to stake my whole well-being on the outcomes of this election.
Further, I will pay close attention to how I feel when I say to myself, “Here’s the thing.” For example, I will internally debate my perception of the thing, and tune in to my feelings in order to realize that the thing is, as important as civic attention is to government, there is more to the context in which I want to continue to exist than what the machinations of government can influence. Like you, I have attempted to keep a sense of equilibrium by acting on what I can control and adjusting to that which I cannot control. I affirm to myself that I will not despair and abandon my dreams and the dreams of my ancestors who worked hard and suffered to pass on opportunities upon which I might build.
And finally, here’s the thing: For some, the results of the election will make the world better. For others, it might seem like the end of the world as they want it to be. But for all of us, it is not the end of the world.
Since the pandemic, I’ve not read or heard that colleges and universities and their students are thrilled about remote learning. Understandably, the majority want to be onsite enjoying the benefits a campus offers both in and outside of the classroom. But what if there were no pandemic that would require nearly universal remote learning? Would campus life be as it was in fall 2019? I have to think that if there were no pandemic and on-campus enrollment were up to full capacity this fall, there might be a different kind of challenge to address that would affect the safety of the academic community.
The academic community is not apolitical, and it is increasingly less of a haven for civil debate based on critical thinking and empirical facts. Students tend to be idealists and, in the past several months, we have witnessed more activism than we’ve seen in the past 50 years.
If there were no pandemic and students were onsite, rather than traditional campus protests to have college and university administrators address their demands, instead students might be protesting and counterprotesting one another based on their political party or favorite presidential candidate. Instead of safe spaces for civic engagement and civil conversations, campuses could be battlegrounds—even fomented by outside groups persuading students to stoke the flames of civil unrest.
With the current probability of disputes over presidential election results and ongoing rumors about the possibility of violence, the 2020 presidential election could have been the friction that sparked violent clashes among students if college and university campuses were at full onsite capacity.
Some may see this scenario as hyperbole, but it is no great leap to speculate that student-against-student campus unrest based on political choices could unravel the threads that create the ideal tapestry of higher education—learning to think, act, and live together.
If large numbers of students were on campuses this fall, those with larger responsibilities to keep students safe might have been caught between a rock and a hard place as they struggled to thread the needle between free expression and provocations that incite violence. Despite the hard place, administrators would dare not be caught flat-footed or blindsided to the possibility of violent clashes among students. In reality, it’s too horrible to imagine that students would resort to interpersonal physical violence in order to express their passion in support of a political ideology. But we’ve seen the unimaginable in so many ways in recent months, so nothing should be left to chance.
The upside of this dark scenario is that it appears that more campuses than not are making it possible for students to continue their studies remotely and, therefore, avoid the kinds of provocations that could actualize the unthinkable. Most importantly, we must have faith in those who choose higher education as part of their life plan.
Imagining this worst-case scenario may help some adapt more easily to the less-than-ideal circumstances and inconvenience of remote learning for a while longer. And remote learning could provide the kind of space for well-considered discussions on the election and what it means for the future of higher education. But this is only a microcosm of our larger society. If higher education ultimately teaches us how to better think, act, and live together, we must consider, too, the implications for the future of our nation and how we might be able to provide that same kind of space and well-considered discussion on a broader scale.
Having finally navigated out of the pitch-black courtyard after our stay at the unique Posada de la Soledad hotel in Morelia, we were finally on our way. Even after sunrise, it remained dark for quite a while due to heavy cloud cover.
We took turns driving every two hours with a stop in Guadalajara. In my mind’s eye, I can recall scenes in Guadalajara, such as the lovely flower-covered gates and street vendors, but perhaps because our stay was so brief, I didn’t record anything about our visit in my journal.
We powered on to Mazatlán, arriving 12 hours after we began this leg of our road trip. We were fortunate to get a room at the first place we stopped. Our goal was to scrub our bodies, wash our hair, and eat in a nice restaurant. It was in Mazatlán where we ordered fried fish and were surprised when we were served a whole fish including head and tail.
After supper we sat on a concrete wall overlooking the Pacific Ocean and watched the waves for a very long time before retiring for the night.
I don’t know why, but clearly I was in a goofy mood when I wrote this journal entry:
Chuckie and Gwen left Mazatlán at 5:30 a.m. They thought the streets and beaches would be deserted, but they were so wrong. The Pacific, near the shore, was full of bobbing heads of people taking an early morning dip. People were walking the streets as if it were midday.
It took nine hours to drive from Mazatlán to Guaymas. Gwen only drove two of the nine hours. Poor dear Chuckie! The kids ate cookies, peanut butter sandwiches, and tuna with mustard all the way to Guaymas. After finding a room at the Guaymas Inn, with stuffed tummies, they went directly to bed.
We know that today is Sunday because by 7:00 a.m. the highway leading out of Guaymas is relatively free of farmers. Traversing a relatively flat terrain in sunny and warm weather was a joy. We made good time driving, reaching the border around noon. We had to return our tourists’ permits at the Mexico Customs Station, and at U.S. Customs we had to take everything out of the car for inspection. We were lucky that the Customs Officer we had was nice because he didn’t dump our things out like some of the other inspectors did when inspecting the cars of other tourists.
As we drove away from the Customs Station into Nogales, Arizona, Charles started screaming and pointing at stop signs, street signs, and store signs because they were in English! We were laughing and screaming because we were so happy to be back in the good ol’ USA!
We went directly to the AAA office to exchange the little currency we had left. We marveled at the fact that we didn’t have to check to see if we had enough bottles of water because we could just go to a water cooler and drink the water.
Tucson was about an hour’s drive from Nogales. We welcomed the 97-degree temperature in Tucson because we had been cold so much while in Mexico. Our first task was to find a laundromat to wash our dirty clothes. We knew that there would be one near the University of Arizona.
After washing our clothes, we went to a campsite where it cost $2.32 to secure a space to pitch our tent – the Giant Genie. (I have no recollection of why I called the tent the Giant Genie in my journal.) I put the tent poles together while Charles unfolded the canvas. When these tasks were completed, we moved quickly because it looked as if it were going to rain. I began to pump up the air mattresses while Charles put the poles in the tent. Lightning began to flash as the sky grew dark.
Just as Charles got the tent set up, a strong wind began blowing everything away, including the Giant Genie! While I tried to hold down the air mattresses and loose articles, Charles struggled to keep our tent from blowing away, but he wasn’t able to keep one of the poles from breaking. We worked for at least an hour trying to improvise a way to keep the Giant Genie up despite the broken pole.
While we struggled with the tent, the wind and rain turned into a major storm. Drenched, we took the Giant Genie down, let the air out of the mattresses, and repacked the trunk of the car. Wet all over, we drove back into Tucson to an Arby’s where we ordered roast beef sandwiches and milkshakes. We felt better after eating and set out to find a room.
In our hotel room, we had a telephone that we knew how to use. We each called our mothers to let them know that we were back in the United States. I was thrilled to see that there was a television in our room, since there had not been one in any place we stayed while in Mexico. With great anticipation, I turned on the tube. Unfortunately, there was only static. Thoroughly disappointed, we cleaned up and went to bed.
Although we had been drenched the day before and disappointed in not being able to watch television, we were in good spirits at breakfast as we made light conversation with the waitresses who were dressed in cowgirl outfits. We were feeling rested and optimistic as we discussed our options for the day: We could go to the Grand Canyon if we could get another pole for our tent. If we failed at this, we could visit Los Angeles.
After breakfast, we stopped at a service station for gas and selected an option that we had not previously discussed. The service station attendant noticed that our right front tire was low, so he suggested that we let him put the car up on a rack to check the tire for a nail. With sympathy in his facial expression and voice, the attendant told us that we were in for big car trouble. While there was no nail in the tire, he informed us that the front wheel alignment was off and, as a result, our tire was going to be completely destroyed.
Resigned to adjust to this new development, we unpacked the other maps, bought food supplies, and headed east for home. We drove to Albuquerque, New Mexico, and stayed the night.
After a sleepless night because of a storm, we took a tour of the campus of the University of New Mexico before hitting the highway. Impressed by the pueblo-style buildings, we’d never seen a university campus such as this.
We drove for about an hour before stopping for breakfast at the Longhorn Ranch restaurant. The street looked like what we’d seen on television as main street in Dodge City during the days of Dillon, Earp, and Hickock.
After breakfast, we went to the adjacent shop where I bought necklaces made of beads and corn. We sent postcards home, and for the final leg of our road-trip honeymoon, we hit “Highway 66” toward Oklahoma City and did not rest until we got home sweet home!
Not that it makes any difference whether it’s the weekend or not when we don’t have to go to work, but today is Saturday—what is usually a shopping day for us—so why not shop today?
We got up early to drive from Taxco to Cuernavaca, where one of Charles’ aunts who had visited Mexico years before directed us for a particular kind of leather purse for her. Once we were there, it took us about an hour to find the store. There were no leather purses like the one we were supposed to get for Charles’ aunt.
With nothing else to do and feeling less like tourists now, Charles drove us to Mexico City, where we went directly to the San Juan Market. After buying two purses that might be what Charles’ aunt wanted, we decided to shop more at another market, La Merced, where I bought a large sewing basket and a bread basket.
After shopping, we were famished, so we stopped at Kentucky Fried Chicken! This food we understood, and it was a welcome change. Since Charles had driven earlier, I drove back to Taxco, where we just collapsed. We even slept through the supper hour and didn’t wake up until the next morning.
We wake up to a cloudy and rainy day. In fact, given the fact that our hotel is atop a hill, we find ourselves actually in the low-hanging clouds. This was an unusual experience for us.
It rained hard all day, making it impossible for us to get out of our room. We were going stir crazy! Trying to find something to do, Charles repaired a broken handle on the sewing basket we bought the day before, while I washed clothes in cold water in the small wash basin and ironed two shirts and a dress on a tiny square table.
We talked about how we missed eating the foods we were accustomed to back home. We even crafted a seven-day menu, including a lot of artery-blocking foods that were our favorites. Later, we regretted that we had spent a lot of time daydreaming about favorite foods and planning menus before going to dinner at the hotel restaurant because our real dinner was definitely no comparison.
To break up the monotony and to get out of our room, we took a drive after supper before returning for yet another game of Gin Rummy. Our road-trip honeymoon is beginning to drag, though neither of us admits it.
We were up early, excited to get on the road to Acapulco. It was an easy drive, and we were happy that it was warm and sunny after so much rain and cool weather.
Acapulco, itself, and the hotel we planned to stay at were the ultimate destinations for our honeymoon. I had read that our hotel, Las Brisas, was the hotel where the Kennedys had spent their honeymoon. The hotel is high on a hill, commanding a full view of Acapulco Bay and the city of Acapulco. At $45.00 a day, we thought that this must be one of the most expensive hotels in the world—and it was worth every cent!
Everything was painted pink and white. Our pink-and-white cottage, enclosed by a white concrete wall on one side and shrubbery on the other, has its own private swimming pool and terrace facing the ocean. Alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages of every type are available in the refrigerator. Breakfast is brought to our cottage every morning and fresh fruits are brought daily, as well. This is living!
Midday, we went to town for a walk-around and a snack. When we returned, we luxuriated poolside before going back to town for supper. What a life!
This must be how the rich and famous live. Waking up around 10:00 a.m. to the smell of coffee and fresh rolls brought to our room is still unreal to us. It is here at Las Brisas where we experienced breakfast in bed for the first time and, possibly the last time, in our lives. With nothing to do but lounge around and play in the pool, we didn’t leave the hotel until midday. Because it was cool, we put sweatshirts on over our swimwear and went to town for lunch.
For our trip to town, I had worn beach walkers, but Charles had not worn any shoes. He was full of regret when the pavement heated up, so we set out looking for sandals. To our surprise, every shop was closed between 1:00 and 4:00 p. m. If we had taken more time to read our tourists’ materials, we would have known about this custom.
Since there were no sandals to be bought this afternoon, and we didn’t want to go back to the hotel yet, we went to the beach. The waves in Acapulco Bay were strong, turbulent, and beautiful. We walked down to the waters’ edge and sat in the sand like two children enjoying the waves as they washed over us leaving us covered with sand and salt.
After a while, we went back up the hill to Las Brisas, where we cleaned up before returning to town for supper. Before retiring for the night, we played our twelfth game of Gin Rummy. The score is six to six. We sure do miss television.
It’s not bad having a birthday in Acapulco ensconced at Las Brisas. We decided to splurge and order lunch from the expensive hotel restaurant. I won’t go into the description of the pepper steak we ordered, but it was not money well spent. We had to go to town for a burger.
We dressed up for our evening meal to celebrate the special occasion at an expensive French restaurant called Normandie’s. We looked forward to this night out with eager anticipation, and we were not disappointed. We had a delicious meal and felt a great sense of satisfaction about the way the day had unfolded as we went back up the hill where we could luxuriate one more night in our pink-and-white cottage.
We got up at 4:00 a.m., checked out of the lovely Las Brisas Hotel, and were on the road by 5:45 a.m. Driving through scenic mountainous country, we ran into low clouds and rain periodically before we arrived at our destination in Morelia.
Our destination was a hotel named Posada de la Soledad. Charles and I liked a lot of the same kinds of things and that’s why our relationship had so little friction. However, this hotel showed us that we didn’t agree on everything.
Charles was fascinated by how unusual the hotel was and I was so disappointed. Before we arrived at the hotel, I decided that I would stay in our room and relax while he went to supper. I was getting concerned about my expanding waistline.
We were taken to our room and let in by a man who took the key with him. There was no key for us and no way for us to lock the door from the inside. Our very cold, high-ceilinged, dark room was large with heavy Spanish-styled dark furnishings. Above the bed was a huge picture of the Virgin Mary gazing down at the bed. The windows were covered with thick wooden doors. When I told Charles that I had changed my mind and would go to supper with him after all, he laughed and said, “Don’t tell me that you’re afraid in a monastery!”
The dark and dank restaurant was in what used to be a dining room for the monks who lived in this monastery. The few of us who were there for supper sat at a long and narrow wooden table in extremely uncomfortable chairs. The flowers that should have brightened the room just made the place more eerie to me because there was a funeral parlor next door, and I could not help but think that the red gladiolas were left over from someone’s funeral.
Ordinarily, I would be reluctant to get up at 4:00 a.m., but not on the day we were to leave the Posada de la Soledad. When we left our room, we were surprised to find that the desk was closed. At all the previous hotels, there seemed to be someone at the desk all night. Since we had paid in advance and had no key to return, we slowly and cautiously moved through a pitch-black courtyard toward what we thought was the exit.
When we reached what seemed to be a door, we found it barricaded! As we stood there shivering from the cold and fear in the dark, we heard a shuffling noise behind us. Unable to see anything because it was as black as night wherever we were, Charles called out in a deep but querulous voice, “Who’s there? I say, Who’s there?” Suddenly a man appeared directly in front of us. Using every word we had ever learned in Spanish, we tried to communicate that we wanted to leave. The man removed the barricade, we gave him a generous tip and moved as rapidly as we could to our car.
The experiences of this day would remain vividly in our minds throughout the remainder of our trip.
We headed out for Taxco in our newly washed car with half a box of stale cookies for lunch. We had been quite specific about not wanting to have our car washed when approached by a man in the courtyard of the hotel the previous evening. Nevertheless, when we walked out of the hotel the next morning, our 1968 dark blue Cutlass with the white vinyl top, was sparkling like new. The Industrious man we had seen the night before made a job for himself in order to earn a little money.
The reason we only had a few stale cookies for our trip was because the hotel we went to for breakfast only made enough lunches for its guests. We shrugged our shoulders and said we would just get all the little hiccups and inconveniences out of the way during the morning so we could have smooth sailing on our journey to Taxco.
I drove the first 100 miles with the windows down enjoying the balmy weather. We were in a good mood as we sang our favorite songs all the way to Cuatla where we stopped for gas. Cuatla is famous for its association with several revolutionary leaders including Emiliano Zapata, one of Charles’ favorite heroes.
We encountered another hiccup in Cuatla when we realized that we didn’t have enough of the right currency to pay for the gas. The local bank was closed, and the hotel we found would not cash a traveler’s check. We eventually found a restaurant that would give us an exchange for our U.S. dollars.
By early evening, we were starving and the road out of Cuatla toward Taxco was unpaved. The towns we passed through were not on the map, and it was getting dark as we maneuvered our way across nearly unnavigable terrain. We eventually realized that we were hopelessly lost. We just kept driving until we came to a stop at a gate, and men in uniforms carrying rifles seemed to appear out of nowhere! There were blinding lights shining through our front windshield and through the side windows. I frankly don’t recall the exchange we had with the men, but we apparently had driven up to an army base. To say that we were frightened in no way describes how scared we were. We must have indicated in some manner that we were headed to Taxco.
We were both shaking as we drove back in the direction from whence we had come. By sheer luck, we finally blundered onto Highway 95. After the experience with the soldiers, we had no inclination to talk, so we sat quietly as we drove the last 20 miles to our destination. We finally began to exhale when we were registering as guests at the Hotel Loma Linda in Taxco.
Yes, we were starving the next morning when we had breakfast at the Hotel Loma Linda. In daylight we made note of our room number, 108, and we knew that this must be our lucky number.
We could see where people lived from the balcony of our hotel room. It was fascinating to see that the houses, like white stacked boxes, were built up and throughout the mountainside.
Taxco is known for its silver. While Charles put the Hemisfair sticker from the San Antonio World’s Fair on our car, I walked next door to a shop that was advertised as a “silver factory.” I was disappointed to see that the prices were so high since I thought it really was a factory. I should have known that the prices would not be good because of all the tour busses outside.
After breakfast, we decided to walk to the center of town, stopping at every silver shop along the way. We marveled at how the streets composed of rocks, stones, and bricks just seemed to naturally grow up into the mountainsides.
After spending the entire day walking around town, we returned to the hotel to inquire about tickets to a famous night club we had heard about called “Las Cantarranas,” translated in English as “The Singing Frogs.” The tickets were not yet available, so we took a drive to locate the place during daylight hours since there were no lights on the highway or roads at night and we didn’t want to end up in a place like we had ended up the night before. The club was open so we went inside to check it out. We wished we hadn’t seen it in the daylight. It was not at all inviting, but we had heard that it was “the” place to go for entertainment.
After dinner at the hotel, there was a thunderstorm, so we had to postpone our night out. It’s a good thing we did because after the most delicious ice cream that we had ever had in our lives, we took turns in the bathroom the rest of the night. We learned later that we had such a reaction because the ice cream was made of goat’s milk. For years after this trip, if we saw any type of food indicating that it was made of goat’s milk, we would recall our Taxco experience and take a pass.
On this day, we headed for silver shops along the highway. All the “Platarias” seemed to have the exact same merchandise. Just before we decided to go back to the hotel, a young man ran out of his shop and literally dragged us inside to show us something “different.” His jewelry was beautiful and unusual because he had blended copper, brass, and silver. He proudly showed us how he executed his craft. Unfortunately, we had spent all the money we had allocated for silver and could not buy any of this unique jewelry.
Other than walking around and shopping at shops for silver, according to our Trip Tik, there was nothing else to see or do. We took an afternoon nap before supper and played Gin Rummy until it was time to dress for our evening out at Las Cantarranas.
That night, we learned that the mansion or hacienda where Las Cantarranas is housed was built in the 1500s. We thought that it had to be the most unique club in the world. While it looked like a pile of ruins in the daylight, it was transformed at night.
Upon entering, we found ourselves in a cave-like room lighted only by candles in brown paper bags placed on top of tree stumps that also served as tables for drinks. Tables and chairs were small and placed close together in front of a raised platform for the band. The platform was also a place where guests could dance if they chose to do so.
After about 45 minutes in the room with the band and some dancing, everyone was led downstairs to a cozy room that had windows. In this room, all the guests sat on padded benches very close to the floor and the raised platform was just large enough for a single chair. After everyone was seated and had been served drinks, the owner of the club came out to welcome the guests, first in Spanish and then in English. After a most effusive welcome, he shared the history of the building. Then he introduced the main attraction. We sat spellbound for about half an hour as we were entertained by a most gifted and marvelous Flamenco guitarist.
Our next stop was outside on a patio. When we were all seated, five gaily decorated men climbed a 70-foot pole that did not appear to be too stable! Four of the men sat on a square that they put together with four wooden boards. The fifth man stood on another piece of wood that was about twelve inches in diameter in the center of the square of boards where the four men were spinning around like they were on a merry-go-round. The man on the 12-inch platform in the center danced on this small piece of wood while playing a flute-like instrument. All the while, the four seated men had been holding torches. Suddenly, while everyone was watching and listening with amazement to the music of the man in the center, the four seated men fell backwards and started spinning around the top of the pole. They were only held by a rope attached to their feet! Now all five men held lighted torches as they spun around down the pole until they reached the ground. As onlookers, we were out of breath just watching this performance.
Next, we were all ushered into another room where entertainers from Trinidad and London put on a very spirited and fun show with a lot of singing and dancing. After this, there was, yet, another space for entertainment! This second patio was built over a natural waterfall, and the loud music and psychedelic lights created the right atmosphere for dancing. When the music stopped, we thought it was time to leave, but not yet. Two male dancers from the Ballet Folklorico topped off a most entertaining evening!