2010, More Than a Year Later

The entire year 2009 flew by and no more entries to Stories from the Great Mex. Not even one post.

However, I did write a letter to Femia around the time of their 29th anniversary in December and I will share it here because in it I reminisce about how our friendship began.

December 13, 2009

Dear Femia:

A week ago, December 6th, was your 29th anniversary. Around that time, I came across an article that mentioned your names as I was perusing the local newspaper! How timely was that! It was Jim Garringer’s column. Of course, I cut it out planning to mail it to you.

Jim couldn’t have known about your anniversary or when the article would be published. And I have no idea when this letter and enclosed clipping might reach you. (Remember the birthday greeting that took two months to get there?) But here go my sincere wishes for a wonderfully blessed thirtieth year together!

The next day I met him at the university and commented on his piece and how much I appreciated that he had written an article inspired by your lives. I did have a question, however, about something he wrote. He said that you went to college in the USA. That did not agree with what I thought you had told me. (Or could it be that my memory fails me? Heaven forbid! )

A year ago is when I wrote the last entry in the series titled Stories of the Great Mex. I fully intended to write another chapter in honor of your special day, but like many other intentions, it was preempted by the pressures of the Christmas season. Instead, I am writing you a letter and thinking back, preparing my mind to continue writing your story.

I remember our instant rapport the day we first met and why we’ve since called ourselves ‘twin souls’ (almas gemelas).

We were at the airport in Cancún with thirty high school students, several couples as chaperones, and me, the Spanish teacher, the only bilingual in the crowd. The two leaders, Junior and Lorie, had been to Yucatán many times and were so excited to see old friends.

I was sitting up front in the bus, maybe it was a way of honoring the oldest one there. And I was alone, every one else had a partner. When you sat next to me, I had no clue who you were, this small Mayan lady.

The trip to your village, Xocenpich, took over two hours. We ate the bag lunch provided and I began to ask you questions about yourself. I was increasingly amazed at your flawless English and excellent pronunciation. I finally asked the burning question: "How is it that you speak English?" From then on we talked constantly, every chance we had, all week long, switching back and forth between languages with ease, sharing the many stages and details of our life stories.

We were often seen together. Some say we look alike; we’re nearly the same age, both very short, similar build. I referred to you as my Mayan twin. We very quickly understood why we could communicate and connect so deeply. Both of us are TCKs, Third Culture or Trans Culture Kids, often called 3CKs (Three Culture Kids) because we move between worlds.

I grew up with my American family in Argentina, and though you remained in your birth country you were raised by American parents. Neither one of us ever totally fit into either culture, we belong to a third community, almost like a different nationality, where the members sense an instant bond. There are books written about this phenomenon. In fact, I gave you the one I was reading.

Well, that was the beginning of a special friendship and many more encuentros. I came back to your village twice with my own university students, and you have been to our area a couple times.

The last time we were together was for Ted’s wedding, your oldest and the first son to marry. Ted and Paulina were so dear to us. He was our driver and tourist guide and both became a part of our team.

The wedding was so beautiful. I stayed on with you, was it two or three weeks? Such precious memories! You were recovering from a stroke. I was so glad to be there, share in your life, and help out a bit.

Another very special aspect of that visit was to get to know your husband better! This time Ulises was home and didn’t have to be away most of the time pastoring a church in another city. You will really like how Jim described Ulises: his heart consumed by the call to be a pastor; his passionate preaching; and finally, without going into details, quoting the scripture that says, “He who has been forgiven much, loves much.” That chapter in your life is the one I want to write about next: how Ulises’ waywardness affected you and the boys, and how going against the advice of many, you hung in there and believed! And, of course, the happy ending. I hope I have sufficient notes for a first draft. Then I will have a wonderful excuse to call you, not that I need any, mind you!

Let’s see if we can get this project rolling again.

Affectionately,

Rita, your alma gemela