My Mexican Family

My housekeeper, whom I've had since I first moved to Mexico 3.5 years ago, has become my Mexican Mamacita. She's only 8 years older than I am but seems wiser than her years and hence has mentored me since my arrival. I would have been giving money to beggars who can work or have husbands/boyfriends who use the money for drugs or tequila if not for her sage advice. She knows the best restaurants, honest jewelers, reliable auto repairmen, and knowledgeable home maintenance people.

Juanita has offered for me to be buried in her family plot at the local cemetery. When I asked her why she would make such an offer, her reply was, "Because I want there to be someone to put flowers on your grave." Since I have no family here, and it's unlikely in the event of my death that my sister would travel here to bury me, Juanita wants to make sure that someone will take care of seeing that I become worm food AND remember me on the annual Day of the Dead with flowers and my favorite things on my grave. Her family would do that for me along with others in the family. I feel very honored to be so included.
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She has purchased 4 plots in the San Antonio Pantheon, each being three deep. I told her that when my time comes, someone could just kick her bucket to the side to make room for my bucket in the same hole. Juanita obviously has great affection for me as I have for her and her entire family. Her youngest daughter, Martha, is like my little sister. In fact, we greet each other with, " Hola Hermana!" whenever we see each other. And her husband has become like a bother-in-law to me--after today,

The following is the reason for today's blog: I've been looking for a Mexico-plated car to buy. My current car is in the country illegally and consequently uninsurable. Or at least, insurance wouldn't pay off on a car not legally imported into Mexico. My intention is to buy a Mexican car, insure it and drive it on long trips and around town and park my Honda.

I found a Chevy mini-van and took it to Juanita's son, Armando, to check if it was worth buying. I needed to find out if Armando was done with it, but didn't have his phone number. He also doesn't speak very good English and my Spanish doesn't extend much beyond the pleasantries and restaurant-speak. I called my "sister" Martha and spoke with her husband, John. He called me back and explained that Armando wasn't sure if I wanted everything fixed and the fluids changed in the car or check it prior to purchase. I explained my needs to John and we hung up. About an hour later John and Martha show up with the van and their car. He explained what Armando had found, gave me his recommendations (as any good bother-in-law would) then they followed me to return the van and brought me home.

My own bother-in-law died about 1.5 years ago and I miss him and his advise and wisdom. When I reflected on the afternoon I realized that I was being made to feel like "family". With the idea of being buried in their family plot, the help I receive and give to Juanita's family, I've begun to feel the emptiness that comes with having no family close by. (My sister seems to have no interest in visiting me here. She has seen too much trouble in her town caused by the Mexicans living there and assumes that all Mexicans are lazy, thieves, murderers and/or drug pushers and doesn't want to have a chance to adjust her attitude by getting to know a Mexican). I cried at the emptiness I felt and the realization that I now have new additions to my family.

The Mexicans are very big on family ties--it's one of the things gringos can learn from our Latin cousins. Juanita and her family have enveloped me in HUGE arms of love. What an honor and privilege. . .