What the devil is that?

It's been 8 weeks since I arrived in Mexico, and I think I left Ottawa at just the right time, Oct. 13, 2021. At that time, I did not require a COVID-19 test or proof of vaccination to hop on board my Air Canada plane and come to Mexico City. Of course, I have been "double vaxxed" since July 2021 but once you're in Mexico it is a free-for-all. People have been gathering more since the government opened up the country just in time for Easter, and as several of my wise local friends have said, it's like Mexico has forgotten we are still living through a pandemic. 

For the most part, I stay at home, help my mom, play tennis at the local club (which happens to be the best in town). After a couple of weeks, I venture out for a change of scene and independence to Mexico City where I find cheap Airbnb lodging that gets me through the current round of visiting friends, museums, walking through the concrete jungle and of course drinking the nectar of the Gods in terra cotta coffee mugs whenever my batteries need recharging. 

At the moment I am recovering from an intense bout of food poisoning, (more on that later). Unfortunately, it is not a new phenomenon to me. I used to get sick quite a lot when I was here every summer as a child. My mom would take me to the pediatrician, who would ultimately order her to take me to the hospital to stop the vomiting and to get me on IV as I was severely dehydrating with every passing minute. This is why I HATE chamomile tea or te de manzanilla.  I would be forced to sip it while lying spread eagle on my aunt's spare bed in her room at my Abuela's house in Mexico City. My mom's home remedies did not stop there, and they were also not as innocent. One time I was so sick I had no idea that by the time the pediatrician had me on the examining table, I had newspaper taped to my stomach. "What the devil is this?" he rightly exclaimed. There was no one else in the room to cover for my mom so she had to come clean. "Ay doctor, I had heard if you tape newspaper to the stomach it would be too busy reading to get upset." That home antidote was only one of several ridiculous remedies concocted over the years of family panacae pass-me-downs.  

This time around I went to the hospital as soon as that vile, yet familiar feeling took over my body, and I was there overnight as the nausea was very stubborn along with a fever. My mom picked me up the next day. I had stopped vomiting but still had a fever.  At home when I hit the sheets she had followed me into my room to let me know she had thoughtfully inserted an electric blanket between the top sheet and the light bedspread. I slept soundly, spread-eagle on top of everything that night. 

The memories of my childhood here of course are not all accompanied by a side of nausea. My dad loved it here in Cuernavaca, and he had a knack for interior design which was really more along the lines of curating a huge art and book collection throughout the family home and especially in his home office. He would spend hours in that office, combing over books, taking notes, studying chess moves, playing the recorder, drawing illustrations, writing, editing, and rewriting. No wonder he never had any tan lines!

I think I have inherited my dad's talent for organizing things in a logical and esthetically pleasing way. During this trip, I promised my mom I would help her revamp the office, which had up to this point become a dumping ground for old computers, VCRs, books, gardening supplies, hardware, and LOTS of dust and spider skeletons. I could envision the end result, which included hunting through the rest of the house for just the right mid-century-modern piece of furniture we still had since they were originally bought around the 60s. It took me a couple of days and my mom was key to discerning what to keep, recycle, donate or throw away. One of the first things I found was a turntable and several vinyl records. I looked at the Charlie Byrd record and entered it into Spotify and found the most appropriate playlist to get us through the job. I think it was more than a coincidence that the music I newly discovered shared the same name as my dad, Charles.

A turntable and records start the retro-revamp of the home office

The next things I found were some very useful items if the year were 1960 or so. Please let me know if you need carbon paper or if your kids even know what carbon paper is, or what the cc means in an email. While you explain it, you can wear 3-D glasses to look more authoritative. 

Wow, no-curl! Bonus!

After that, I came across a very dusty metal case that looked like something a Mary Kay lady would tote to your suburban living room in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon circa 1985. Thankfully, it was not Mary Kay (wasn't my dad's style, or bag, as he would say). To my surprise, it was a beautiful large format plate camera in perfect condition. I carefully took it out from its upside-down perch and guessed right at the knobs which expanded it. I felt like I was in one of those The Million Dollar Man TV episodes when there are only seconds to guess the correct bomb wire to cut before bellbottoms and sideburns start to hit the fan. Yes, I secretly wanted to be Jamie Summers!  

A plate camera becomes a display piece for the vintage office

Next, I found a very provocative-looking gizmo in its original packaging which seemed to curiously feature Steve Austin. Suddenly, I realized we were the proud owners of an Oster Scientific Jr. Massage Instrument, for that feeling of well being... as the box proclaimed. Can you believe it still vibrates!!?

For that feeling of well being

After that find, I didn't think my hunt would get any better, so I focussed on rearranging the beautiful wall bookshelves, clearing out the old paint cans, and decided to leave one spider skeleton that was too high up. I created a few categories of books for publications on photography, astronomy, Chinese art, Japanese art, and of course all the genres of pre-Columbian art in Latin America. I also hauled a mid-century modern desk that was being used as a TV stand in my room, and brought in a few teak chairs and a teak couch which occupied the space where an old desk used to crowd the floorspace. 

I am very proud of the end result, and each time I sit in that room my dad is right there with us, enjoying his most cherished things. But these are all just things. You can't take them with you. They are nice to enjoy especially when one is young and nesting. Now that I am kind of on the move, I spent all of September emptying my own house in Ottawa and now I am here helping my mom do the same. She feels the burden of knowing cleaning out a home is inevitable. We will get through it together; I along with my mom, Charlie Byrd, and my dad. 

I hope this is your bag, dad!