When I was a kid my mom never made a big deal about Memorial Day so I never gave it much thought until a few years ago. My mother didn't work for a big company so she never had paid holidays (she was a vocalist/singer). We didn't have any family who died in the wars especially since her family was of the Salvation Army not the military. So, when my birthday rolled around and I was usually disappointed that more kids didn't come and didn't understand that it was mostly because it was always on or very near Memorial Day and that their families were observing that occasion.
Even when I became an adult the same thing would happen and for years I took it personally (bad attitude). So, after my 50th birthday I decided to celebrate just once every decade. My 60th birthday observance was a crazy 10k scramble up the black diamond ski run at White Pass, WA. great fun.
But now I am living in Mexico with the love of my life and here they won't let a birthday go by unnoticed and the best part is that they don't observe Memorial Day here. Another win/win for me.
My great grandson Lucas was born on Labor Day weekend and I will try to help him understand what that means both personal and the significance of the day.

Grandfathers and other ancestors ....

I never got to meet my father's father because Grandpa Lon Walls died in 1939, seven years before I was born. My mother's father, Grandpa Fox was a huge, positive influence on my life and I hold his memory near and dear to my heart. Great grandfather John Fox died in 1931 so I never got to meet any of my great grandfathers but while studying our family through genealogy research I feel that I know at least something of their lives.

Great, great grandfather Walls was named Zachariah and I believe he was born in Virginia about 1799, but I haven't been able to confirm that as yet. He raised his family in Nicholas County, Kentucky in the early 1800's. His last child, of the 13 I have found, was great grandpa Edgar, born 1852. The family made their way from Kentucky to central Missouri where Edgar married Sophronia Woody. They continued their migration into west Missouri and grandfather Alonzo (Lon) Walls was born in Butler, Bates County, Missouri in August of 1881. The family settled a second location in Cedar Creek, Taney County, Missouri, about 15 miles east of Branson. From there they continued moving southwest and passed through Dallas, Texas about 1900, eventually settling in Cleburne, Johnson County, Texas and that is where my father was born, May 23, 1909. His name was DeMarquis Walls and he died in 1989.  My grandson, Kristian DeMarquis Walls, was born April 23, 1990 so he never got to meet his great grandfather either.

The reason for this waxing nostalgia is because I am soon to become a living great grandfather and I hope that I will live long enough to become a living memory to a boy whos name will be Lucas Sky Walls and he should take his first breath in early October, 2013 (and yes, I am excited about that).
UPDATE: Lucas was born August 31, 2013 - weight 5 lbs. He arrived early but is healthy.

Note: Three generations of Walls men are buried in Cleburne, Johnson County, Texas; Edgar, Lon and DeMarquis.

Kicked out of Mexico .... Sept 1, 2013

Things have been very busy in my little and my mind has been occupied with the excitement of Kris and Amanda expecting their first child, so I overlooked the renewal of my "resident visa" by 3 days. Ouch. That's a $100 usd fine and I was told that I had 20 days to leave the country (in order to get a new visa).
The very next day my great grandson Lucas Sky Walls was born so I bought a ticket for a flight to Portland.
I will have to start the visa process all over again but, as always, I'm sure there is a reason for it.

Funny or frustrating ... we all get to choose.

Today I wanted to get a price for a project I'm working on so I took my measurements and found that I needed about 30 meters (100 feet) of screen. I went to the ferretería (hardware store) and asked "How much for 30 meters of screen?" The answer I received was 150 pesos per kilo.....? "Kilo?" I asked. "Si señor". 

My next natural question was "How many meters are in a kilo?" He said " Oh, I don't know. Maybe 3 1/2 or 4."      So.......taking the cautious approach I calculated 30 meters at 3 1/2 meters per kilo and said "I would like to buy 8 1/2 kilos of screen please." Right? Wrong! 

I need have them cut the 30 meters of screen, then they weigh it and then, and only then, do you know what the price is. Funny or frustrating .... we all get to choose.

Right now I'm reading Mark Twain's book Following The Equator which is the story of his trip around the world. Before this I read another of his books Roughing It, mostly about the California gold rush days. In both books he makes reference to the fact that whether traveling by stage coach or train there was a weight limit for luggage. With the stage coach you left behind what was over weight. On the train you paid for anything over the limit. Sound familiar? Yep, the more things change.... the more they stay the same. I share Mark Twain's frustrations in many of the examples he wrote about 150 years ago.

Kids and books

Late this afternoon we took a local bus up the hill on the north side of Zihuatanejo to introduce the small community to the Sala de Lectura (Reading Room) that we have most every Saturday from 11:00 to 1:30 or 2:00.  There were about 10 women there who had just finished an exercise class and some had their children with them. Ivone introduced the program and we laid out about 25 books for them to enjoy. It is our hope to bring more children to the joy of reading and I hope that soon we will have a few more kids interested in learning more English.

The War Prayer by Mark Twain

The War Prayer

by Mark Twain

It was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping, the bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering; on every hand and far down the receding and fading spread of roofs and balconies a fluttering wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers marched down the wide avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings listened, panting, to patriot oratory which stirred the deepest deeps of their hearts, and which they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears running down their cheeks the while; in the churches the pastors preached devotion to flag and country, and invoked the God of Battles beseeching His aid in our good cause in outpourings of fervid eloquence which moved every listener. It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness straightway got such a stern and angry warning that for their personal safety's sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way.
Sunday morning came -- next day the battalions would leave for the front; the church was filled; the volunteers were there, their young faces alight with martial dreams -- visions of the stern advance, the gathering momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe, the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender! Then home from the war, bronzed heroes, welcomed, adored, submerged in golden seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones, proud, happy, and envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers to send forth to the field of honor, there to win for the flag, or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths. The service proceeded; a war chapter from the Old Testament was read; the first prayer was said; it was followed by an organ burst that shook the building, and with one impulse the house rose, with glowing eyes and beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation

*God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest! Thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword!*

Then came the "long" prayer. None could remember the like of it for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The burden of its supplication was, that an ever-merciful and benignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers, and aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them to crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory --
An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale even to ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his silent way; without pausing, he ascended to the preacher's side and stood there waiting. With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued with his moving prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent appeal, "Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord our God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!"
The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside -- which the startled minister did -- and took his place. During some moments he surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn eyes, in which burned an uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said:
"I come from the Throne -- bearing a message from Almighty God!" The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no attention. "He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd, and will grant it if such shall be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to you its import -- that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of -- except he pause and think.
"God's servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two -- one uttered, the other not. Both have reached the ear of Him Who heareth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this -- keep it in mind. If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.
"You have heard your servant's prayer -- the uttered part of it. I am commissioned of God to put into words the other part of it -- that part which the pastor -- and also you in your hearts -- fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard these words: 'Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!' That is sufficient. the *whole* of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words. Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory--*must* follow it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!
"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle -- be Thou near them! With them -- in spirit -- we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -- for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.
(*After a pause.*) "Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits!"
It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense in what he said.

The Weather "Everybody talks about it ......"

Ah yes, the weather. Two weeks ago, while visiting friends and family in Oregon/Washington, I was treated to several days of very nice, sunny, spring-like weather. However just before I left it quickly turned cold, cloudy, windy and rainy which was the reminder I needed of why I left the Great North-Wet for the warmer climes of Zihuatanejo, Mexico.
Upon my return I was treated to two weeks of cooler than normal temperatures for this time of year which was a nice transition. Most days were in the mid 80's with a cool breeze out of the northwest and nighttime temps were about 70. But now it's back to "normal" and tomorrow will be about 88 and sunny and the rest of the week looks about the same with the exception of Wednesday that looks to be about 90. So, as the saying goes "Everybody talks about the weather but nobody does anything about it." and I'm not going to try to change a thing. I'm loving life in Zihuatanejo, Mexico.