Remembrances of Mexico

 

Preface to the Poem

 

            If I had not declared my retirement from air travel a couple of years ago, this Polar-Vortexed winter of 2013-2014 would have been an excellent time to fly to a much warmer climate.  Only once in my 63 years have I taken a mid-winter break to a land of sunshine and no snow.  Shortly after Christmas of 1973, my sister and I went to Mexico for an almost two-week tour which I thoroughly enjoyed.  Rather than choosing the beaches of Cancun or Acapulco, I selected a tour based in Mexico City, where we visited the National Palace, the Museum of Anthropology, Chapultepec Park, and places mentioned in the following poem.  Under the bluest of skies, I was thrilled to climb the narrow stairs of the Pyramid of the Moon and walk on the cobblestoned streets of Taxco.  On this trip, I took a whole carousel of slides with my not-so-fancy camera.  (During this period of my visual history, I could often see a scene better when I later looked at the photograph or slide which I had taken.)  Besides going to the Santa Prisca Church in Taxco, we, in Cuernavaca, went to the first church that had a folk mass.  Additionally, my sister and I toured the Basilica of Guadalupe where we were awestruck by the people who were making a journey on their knees to the altar of the Basilica.  At a lighter moment, we took a boat ride at the Floating Gardens of Xochimilco where a lady in a kayak sold beautiful orchids.  At the parks we visited, Mary and I were pleased to notice family members’ walking arm-in-arm.  Yes, the people were so warm, friendly, and welcoming.  However, one family with whom I did not exchange one word has stuck in my mind for decades.  Thus, on January 27, 2012, for a poetry class which I was taking through correspondence with the Hadley School for the Blind (Winnetka, Illinois), I wrote the following poem which is based on a true experience.

 

 

Masterpiece of a Family

 

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

 

 

In the city of Mexico, before the earthquake,

 

before my cousins lived there,

 

before the city multiplied into millions and mangled the air,

 

I walked from the divine Alameda Hotel,

 

across La Avenida Juarez to be caught in the cultural spell

 

of the Palacio de Bellas Artes.

 

Although I went to see the Ballet Folklorico and the Tiffany glass curtain,

 

in the galleries encompassing the theatre,

 

midst the over-sized modern, abstract paintings, I am certain

 

I saw a masterpiece of a family.

 

Within my frame of vision, a father and his five children

 

moved in silent unison

 

from one painting to the next,

 

sat several contemplative minutes

 

to embrace visually one particular oil.

 

Then, suddenly, the father stood

 

and his docent ducklings followed him to the next muted art lesson.

 

The family continued in this robotic fashion around the art gallery.

 

The middle-aged father with sons and daughters,

 

from (I imagine) age seven to fourteen,

 

imprinted upon me this breathtaking scene—

 

a masterpiece of a family,

 

forever brushed into my memory.

 

 

Post-script:  After my sister and I departed from Mexico City, we spent an unexpected extra night in Dallas, due to an ice storm.  At the hotel, the native Texans thought that Mary and I were astonishingly brave to walk on the slightly ice-covered sidewalks.  Then, the next day, back home again in Indiana, fourteen inches of fresh snow welcomed us. 

 

Best wishes for a warmer and happy March!

Alice

 

March 5, 2014, Wednesday

 

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