why my mother will never move to Mexico

I have heard a lot of excuses why people do not want to move permanently to Mexico.

"Being near the grandchildren" seems to top the list. And the same people who say that are often the same ones who bemoan "our grandchildren are so busy, we hardly ever get to see them." Putting Emerson's "foolish consistency" adage to the test.

Health. Heat. Violence. Divided spousal loyalties. They all play a part for part-timers to disclaim the possibility of permanently living in Mexico.

But, to paraphrase Tolstoy, every unhappy mover is unhappy in his own way. It is impossible to accurately stereotype why some people do not permanently move to Mexico.

I know why my mother never will -- even though she enjoys coming to Mexico for short bursts of a month or two. But not any more.

Look no further than the pituitary cases, dressed in black and white, who try to stuff a ball through a hoop. The Portland Tralblazers.

I like basketball. Our law firm bought season tickets for the Blazers in the 1980s when the team did its best to keep alive the fan-team love-hate relationship of the Brooklyn Dodgers. On too many nights, they were "dose bums."

My mother is not fanatic in her support for the Blazers. But she is a fan.

When she lived in Portland, she too had a share in season tickets. And she attended home games as religiously as a nun at prayers or a revival of The Sound of Music.

My mother could easily be a disciple of former Chief Justice (and living person) Earl Warren -- at least, when it comes to the sporting life. "I always turn to the sports pages first, which records people's accomplishments. The front page has nothing but man's failures."

Now that she lives in Bend, her link to the Blazers is cable television. Because my brother is building a house about an hour from Bend, I have been staying with Mom. And this week was a road trip week for the Blazers. So, it was Blazers every night. To the delight of their 90-year old fan.

We watched the Blazers fall to the Lakers and the Bucks, and humiliate the Wizards. Well, it was the Warriors who humiliated the Blazers tonight. But there is nothing to be gained by letting facts get in the way of the truth.

I would be little more than churlish if I complained about spending this sporting time with Mom. We have had our own running color commentary through the game. Just like real fans.

There is no television in my Barra de Navidad house. So, there is no cable. And, thus, there are no Blazers. (Frankly, I do not even know if it is possible to watch Blazer games in our little corner of Mexico.)

But, as long as she can watch them at home and not at my house, I know where she will be each winter.

And this is a good time to bring you up to date on some of the problems I discussed earlier in the week. It is a mixed bag.

1. My two-telephone solution appears to be working well. I have taken both telephones on my walks around this well-designed walking neighborhood.

2. I walked over to the Game and Wildlife office to follow-up on the injured fawn. I do not know what I was thinking. It is the day after Thanksgiving and the wildlife folk are unionized. The fawn's agony would simply need to wait on the vagaries of collective bargaining.

And I do not know where the fawn is waiting. The doe and both fawns were missing from their usual sanctuary this morning and afternoon. Perhaps the circle of life has moved on.

3. And now for the big one. I was almost positive my passport application would get snagged in Texas. It didn't.

I received an email this evening that my passport has been approved and it is being shipped by FedEx to the hotel in Fort Lauderdale where I will be staying -- Monday through Friday.

Earlier this week, no one at the hotel could tell me anything about the procedure to receive courier packages for guests. In contrast, the young woman I talked with this evening knew I was on my way Monday and that the package would be waiting for me.

I feel almost cosseted.

My mother may not escape the gravitational pull of the Tralblazers, but it appears I will be sailing away on Friday to Colombia and then to points west and north.

But, first, there will  be tales of Florida. And I hope none of them involve politics.