Back to the Beach

Isla Mujeres MX, 2022, Part I

I’ve been on a couple of trips the past year or so, out to see my brother and my wonderful east coast family. Domestic flight California to Florida. Both times were sweet and in so many ways. 

I canceled an international trip I’d planned for spring 2020, before even our former president knew there was a pandemic on the rise. Oh, wait, did he ever figure it out? I can’t remember.

Mollie and family and I planned a trip to Cancun this past January and that, too, was postponed due to covid. We’re hoping to get that one in gear in January 2023. 

In the meantime, I started thinking on my getting up and going on my annual spring breaks, my mostly solo travel and I was looking at the UK and such. So many friends to revisit, new friends to meet, welcoming places to see again and new places on my horizon. But when it came down to it, it’s much too cold for me right now in the UK. Spring break took a sharp dip into Mexico.

So here I sit in Isla Mujeres, at least my third time here, maybe the 4th, can’t really remember. It doesn’t matter. The first few days I was here, masks were still required indoors and on public transit; that seems to have worn away, except in the pharmacias.

Right now it’s 84*, nice and humid and I’m hanging out to day in my fine AirBnb apartment in central Isla. Lots of noise and activity begins the day around 8 am, ends usually around 10-11 pm. The quietest part of day is 4 am. Lovely and cool that time of night as well. The AirBnB folks will come by to refill my giant water dispenser sometime today. Que Barbara 2 on Calle Matamoros 12. Great place if you ever come for a visit. Half off regular price with my longtime stay. Five weeks. Can’t beat that. I could actually live here. But don’t tell anyone.

I have air conditioning and WIFI in the place, and call me crazy, most of the time the a/c is off. I like the heat. The humidity. Today I chose to stay in, take a break from my exploring and see if I could get myself to write. Peggy Hunter, this is for you.

I haven’t done much writing lately. In my journal here and there. In this humidity, my fingers tend to stick a bit to the keys on the keyboard and or the phone screen. Tough life.

The delicious aroma of meat grilling all day long, from the burger joint next door, as well from Olivia’s Mediterranean Restaurant (awesome food!) across the street is in some way, soothing. I’m not really a big meat eater. In Isla, tacos, fish, and everything in between is always the best, including the pina coladas.. The giant glass of cold brew and french toast at Chaya & Cacao was the best I’ve ever had. Grilled fish with beers I had on the beach was yummy. And my longtime favorite, La Cazuela, where breakfast is a special treat.

I left my home in Napa on Wednesday, April 28. I had a dentist appointment in the City, had lunch with my son Russell and dinner that evening with good friends Tony, Bill and Jay, all from Enchanted Hills Blind Camp.

This morning, I’m grateful to be having this time for myself. I think it took me a week being her to realize how much I needed it and to unwind from my daily life.

Most of you don’t know that a little less than a year ago I was diagnosed with metastatic squamous cell cancer of my left axillary lymph nodes. NOT breast cancer. The good news, treatment is going well, and I think I’m out of the woods. I’ll know more for certain soon. Ladies, don’t miss your mammogram appointments.

The swelling was picked up in my regularly scheduled mammogram. Sort of. My first mammogram in January showed swollen lymph nodes and there was some thinking it was related to my recent covid injection. That my antibodies were running around and the lymph nodes were affected as well. I have a long history of skin cancer, but this is the first time it’s ever appeared INSIDE me, not on my skin. My body now seems to be an equal opportunity cancer employer. 

We waited, not worried at all, for a couple months. Another scan in March, the final diagnosis came in June. 

 It was one of those discussions. Take this treatment or you’ll more than like die within the year. After a time of angst, fear and reflection, of course I chose the treatment, which has been very simple. Years ago, after hearing an oncologist at a conference tell the audience that he’d never recommend his family take the chemo and radiation he was giving his patients every day, that’s when I told myself, I wouldn’t do chemo or radiation either. I knew I’d be having a good long talk with myself.

Again, something to be grateful for today. Every six weeks, I present my arm to the Kaiser lab techs to take a few vials of my fine red blood and a couple days later, I drive to Vallejo for an I.V. infusion of those well known monoclonal antibodies. The particular one used to “cure” me is Keytruda, and the list of potential side effects isn’t fun to read. I’ve had none of them. I have an excellent oncology team, excellent insurance, and now, an excellent point of view on life. I also added a slew of nutritional supplements and herbs to my daily diet. I’ve lost weight on purpose, with eating much less meat, fatty and sugary foods and increased my daily exercise. I’ve learned to eat for life, rather than living to eat. And I feel great on any given day.

July 2022 will be twelve months since I started this treatment. After coming home in June, I’ll meet with my oncologist and have some scans to see where we are and what the next step will be. I’m hoping there are no more steps and that I’m done with this part of life.

Sometime in the past few months, I realized that there is an end of life in sight, for all of us. Really. As much as we hate to admit it. Hours of meditation taken in small doses, the love of family and friends, time spent outdoors, a couple of apps (I recommend CALM and I AM) that tell me on a regular basis little tidbits such as this one that just popped up on my phone: ‘I am grateful that I can turn my daydreams into reality’, has given purchase to my incredible happy outlook. I’ve come to terms with death, and am not afraid of it. I don’t look forward to it by any means. I don’t want to not be here. What I look forward to is each and every day with love in my heart. I can’t help it.  

There you have it. My unveiling and intro to this fine trip I’m on.

Mothers Day

We all know moms don’t happen alone. Of course there were men in my life. Loves of my life. Two of them partnered with me to bring five wonderful children into the world. Those men don’t keep me company now. One died too early for the rest of us, the other now hangs on by a thread. Fortunate and grateful to be cared for by his youngest son. This time of their lives is so different than in the beginning.

My children. To say they’re my pride and joy is only the beginning. Each one of them was born into a different world of mine. Working, not working, partying, not partying, following, leading, here, there, everywhere, looking for the good life. To be better. Happier. Content. Realizing now, that I had all that, even when I didn’t recognize that I did.

Rob, Mollie, Tom, Howie, Russell. This photo an oldie and a goody.

Always, I hope, my children and I, we cherish each other. Anger certainly crossed the threshold. Infrequently and never for long. Each one of my five children is an amazing human being, living his or her best life. Whether they are single, unattached, or married with wonderful spouses and children, they are happy and thriving, and they give me incredible joy, causing me only the smallest bit of angst, just because I am Mom. No matter their age, no matter where they are, I’m the worrier. Just because.

My own mom lived a life shorter than mine. She loved her three kids Mike, Fred and me, more than anything. My love for her never leaves, and I know she’s always with us, my brothers and me and our families. Loving us.

My mom, Mollie, and her mom, Grandma Gertrude.

Have a joyous Mother’s Day – hug yourself, hug your mom, if only in your heart. Even as I sit on a beach thousands of miles away from home on a much needed sabbatical, I can feel my kids’ hugs. I’m sure they can feel mine.

May our love and joy sift through the air like a cool breeze on a hot day.

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Two Boys at the Beach

I gratefully spent a few days at the sea this past week. So much to look back on and to write about. First some time with good long-time friends, sharing a place up north of Bodega Bay, off Wright’s Beach. A wonderful quiet time of good cheer.

Then I drove down to Santa Cruz, music blaring, with a short detour through San Francisco, over the Golden Gate bridge and down to the ol’ (now closed) Cliff House. I was excited to see there my favorite SF artist / friend with his wife, his art displayed and all set up to sell. And I got something new for my wall. Eduardo Guzman titles it “And all nights, be nights of passion.”

I headed down the coast on Highway 1, shocked to see the fire devastation north of Santa Cruz, and stopped in for a pedicure next door to Mission Safeway. You know you can never have too much fun.

I met up with the family at the hotel for the next few days. Part of Saturday morning I spent at the Farmer’s Market in Aptos with Dana, my great friend and fellow March 1st birthdayer. Coffee and snacks and once again, we forgot to get a selfie together. Story of our life. Such slackers.

Morning came early on Sunday. The Bagelry bagels for breakfast and out the door as soon as possible, strolling across the parking lot to where the fun was.

The rest of the family inside the Casino Arcade took off to play Lazer Tag. Noah and I hung out together, skipping from one arcade game seat to another. He thought he was playing, but not one token went into those machines. It was so noisy in there and soon enough, I decided it was time to go outside where it was warm and sunny, quiet and peaceful.  For both our sakes.

Noah could run and roam along the concrete walkway, without big crowds of people to blast into. I could keep up with him, while still getting a fine memory-filled glance at Fisherman’s Wharf. 

This is when the real story begins.

We strolled past a little boy, about 2 years old I guess, a few months older than Noah. The boy was doing that 2-year old stopping and sobbing thing, fingers in his mouth and staring at his parents seated patiently waiting on a little picnic bench. The boy was upset about something.Probably being told no.

Noah looked at this short fellow human being, seemingly assessing the situation at hand. He stopped for moment and then walked away from me, back to the boy and stopped to communicate with him. No words, just a look, or a hundred. I watched as he checked out the boy’s parents, 15-20 feet away.

The boys stood there for a while, either looking out at the surf and sand, or at the boy’s parents, or briefly, at each other.

At some point here, I asked the parents if I could take a picture – so cute – and they agreed. I realized later I didn’t keep my camera out near long enough.

After a time, Noah started to walk forward, his arm and hand held out as if to say, come on! The little guy didn’t move, just looked the other way. Noah raised his arm as if to say, “Come on.”

So Noah turned back and slowly moved to grasp hold of the little boy’s hand in his. Giving the other boy some time, Noah waited before slowly beginning to lead the little boy over to his parents.

About that time is when I started tearing up and yelled out, “This is our world!”

After walking over to the picnic bench, hand in hand, the two of them stood there looking at each other.

When I called to Noah, he dropped the boy’s hand and toddled over to me. And then he stopped, turned around to see the little boy still watching him. 

Noah sped back over there and again, they stood appraising eath other. Then they were shaking hands. And then.

They’re high-fiving each other. 

Not a word between them the entire time.

And I’m a blubbery mess.

So quickly they learn our world. Let’s all of us teach them the kind way.