IT WAS two decades ago this month that I abandoned the nation of my birth and moved to a startlingly different world. It’s been very interesting and totally positive.
I spent my final night in Houston in the house that I — in a zany moment — gifted my second ex-wife just after our divorce in 1995. I had cleared out of my rental condo the previous day. It was stay with her or in a hotel. She took me in.
Just before I headed out the next morning toward Atlanta in the Ryder rental truck, I posed in my former driveway for the photo below.
I drove to Atlanta, left a few things in my mother’s carport storeroom, and caught a Delta jet to Guadalajara with two suitcases. After three nights there, I rode a bus to Morelia, Michoacán, enrolled in a language school and lived in a small room above a garage.
A few months later, out of curiosity, I boarded a bus for the 40-minute drive to a small, colonial-era city at a higher altitude. I sat there in the plaza and looked around. I liked it. I found a furnished, rental house and moved here, where I’ve been ever since.
Now, after 20 years, I’ve been in a foreign nation for more than a quarter of my life, and not just any quarter, the most recent one, and speaking almost exclusively a foreign tongue, which is odd for a fellow who started life as redneck Cracker from Georgia.
I have returned to the United States very rarely and not at all in the past 11 years. I’m here to stay. I done good. Sometimes one gets stuff right.
But I have another anniversary. It was 15 years ago, also this month, that I started this website. It began under a different name, but it’s been me all along.
For the first six years, I focused almost exclusively on my new Mexican life and the startling differences from what I was accustomed to up north.
But after those six years, things that were fascinating became routine, and I wearied of writing about them. I retired that blog (The Zapata Tales) and opened this one without knowing exactly where it would lead.
It has led to more about my life in Mexico but also to political issues. I am an unabashed right-winger but of the noble sort. I don’t fly swastikas, and I don’t send Jews and gypsies to concentration camps. Quite the contrary. Live and let live, I say.
If only left-wingers felt the same.
Not long ago, I wrote here that I seem to be running out of steam, website-wise, and it’s true. However, the posts have continued but with a bit less frequency.
Who knows what the future will bring? Another 20 years in Mexico? Highly unlikely unless one counts tomb time. Another 15 years of The Unseen Moon? Equally unlikely.
But today, I’m hoisting an imaginary champagne flute. Cheers, amigos!
Saludos to me.