Work or retirement activities:
I continue to live and thrive in Ajijic, a village 30 miles south of Guadalajara, Mexico. I have been here 13 years, and yet I still am awed by the beauty of Lake Chapala, the mountains, and the colorful homes, flowers, and blooming trees. It is like living inside a rainbow! Ajijic has been designated a Pueblo Magico because this is a haven for artists, musicians, writers (from D.H Lawrence to Danielle Steele!), poets, weavers, potters, dancers, thespians, and every other art form. It is said that the lake emits unusually high levels of bromide which stimulates the creative parts of our brains. I am all for that!
However, this designation also has brought weekend crowds. The infrastructure of the north shore cannot support all of the new tourists plus the expats moving here. Wells are going dry. The roads are bumper-to-bumper traffic. What to do?
After many years in the local theater, mostly as a Stage Manager, I “retired” just as COVID-19 hit; and the theater closed temporarily. My BFF, Marsha, from California, had met me in Mexico City to celebrate my 70th birthday. This is where we first heard about a virus in China. Little did I know that this would be the last time I would be with Marsha. To pass the time during COVID restrictions, I began painting again. I joined a plein air abstract art group.
It was about this time that Marsha was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer. Travel was verboten so I could not take care of her. I began raising money by selling my paintings to benefit a Guadalajara group called Salvati (Salvation). They help poor women (and men) who have breast cancer. I was surprised by how quickly my more traditional paintings sold, much more quickly than the abstracts. Marsha had two years of hell during her chemo. We postponed trips to Japan, the European Low Countries, and southern Mexico. Her last chemo session was March 15, 2022. She was told her HER2 variant of cancer would return. It was merely a matter of when and where. She thought she could handle a Chesapeake cruise in November. We made our first plans in over two years.
Then on September 21, 2022, our world and future ended when Marsha died during a routine procedure at a hospital. It was not the cancer that killed her; it was a side-effect from the chemo. I have been devastated every since. We had planned such a beautiful future. However, as my ex-mother-in-law often said, “People plan. God laughs.” I return to Fort Wayne not only for our 55th reunion but also to visit Marsha. She is interred in the mausoleum at Lindenwood Cemetery next to her parents (SSHS class of 1941, my father's class, too). Now is our “forever” time in BFF.
