mixed algodón

The family Cotton finally managed to assemble to discuss The Great Mexico Adventure. The cast: my mother, my brother, his daughter, and me.

We were on our way to a military memorial service for my uncle. Getting together is such a rare event for us that we thought we would squeeze out some mourning time in favor of family time.

For 50 years we have been eating at a local diner called Lew's Dari-Freeze. Over a traditional cony island hot dog (with onions), fries, and Diet Coke, we discussed two topics: 1) Where would Mom like to settle down, and 2) Who is going to join me in heading south to Mexico.

It turned out that my brother and mother had already discussed her future. And she was ready with her answer. She has two listings that she needs to resolve with her real estate business. And both will resolve soon. She then intends to move into her house in Bend. My brother and I will help her in whatever way we can. That was easy.

Then came the Mexico move question. My niece is in her sophomore year of high school. Her parents do not want to move until she graduates. My sister-in-law could telecommute from Mexico, but my brother needs to find some work to do south of the border. That is their homework assignment. But they may very well be heading south after the summer of 2010.

As for me, April 2009 looks like a good move date, and I have some good information on a rental house in Melaque. If I take that route, I would probably stay in Melaque on an FMT from about May through about October. I would then decide whether I wanted to convert to an FM3 and rent in the central highlands or choose another site on the coast -- such as, La Manzanilla. At some point, I want to get to Pátzcuaro for an extended visit.

Mom also said that if we all decide to move, she would like to come along. I should note that this was the plan over a year ago when I floated the notion of the entire family retiring to Mexico. And here we are, back where we started.

Several of you have wisely counseled: stop analyzing, start doing. You were correct. The plan is quickly falling into place. Come next April, I will grab two suitcases and either drive or fly south. Let the adventure begin.

I must comment on my uncle's memorial service this afternoon. My memory of him is that he was a man of action. Very typical of the other men in the timber country where I grew up. He was a boxer, a naval aviator in the second world war, and a logger. I never knew him to say much about any topic, but I do recall that he had a laugh that caused joy to well up in his listeners. In his later years, he became an accomplished keyboardist. But like the other Londons and Hemingways of this world, he was a flawed character -- just like the rest of us. By his flaws, I knew he was was human; by his virtues, I knew he was a hero. He was all that -- and more. He was my uncle. He will always be Roy Brewster.