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  • Sometime in the '70's, Vera and I were enjoying our favorite place to sun, at the Hotel Catalina in Zihuatenejo, a sleepy fishing village on the west coast of Mexico. That morning, after breakfast, Vera wasn't feeling too well (too much sun the day before) and decided to lie down. She urged me, "Go into the village by yourself, I'll be fine."

    So grabbing my camera I trudged down the dirt road to the village and started to roam among the colorful casas taking pictures as I went.

    I suddenly turned a corner and there I spotted a covered patio with a lone woman sitting there. In my best spanish, or so I thought, I said, "Buenos Dias, senora." "American", was her reply in a somewhat mid-west accent. We got to chatting and I found she was a retired school teacher from Illinois. She and her late husband would come here on their vacations, much like Vera and I, so she moved here when she retired. I asked how she got along and she said her Social Security covered the basics and all she needed was the neighborhood muchachos to fetch her a beer now and then. From the looks of her it was more now than then.

    I often think of Geraldine, which was her name, and hope she enjoyed her retirement in that dusty village. I thought then if anything happened to Vera, I too would enjoy being there savoring cervezas mas fria. but I'm too old now for such frivolity. We can always dream, can't we?
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