Sunday, September 27, 2015

From The Road



















From the road...I remember well the day. It was in Veracruz. It was a hot day with a humid breeze from the ocean. I was sitting in a small hotel lobby and he came through the open door and asked if he could play a song for me. He had a well worn but beautiful bass violin by his side. To the objection of the hotel waiter, I asked asked him to please join me.

He played a selection from Czardas by Monti...He had been trained as a classical violinist in Mexico City and now spent his days wandering the streets of Veracruz giving of his soul to whoever would stop and listen and pay him a peso or two. He taught music for many years but said the young people not longer had interest in the arts.

I treated him to his favorite beer and slipped him a decent reward for his story and song. I watched him walk outside as he waited for a bus ride to take him home with his large and beautiful bass. I motioned for him to return and said, "I am going your way seƱor, can I give you a lift?"

When we arrived at his one room home on the outskirts of town, he insisted I join him for his daily diet of flour tortillas and onion sprinkled with a little table salt. I must say, one of the best meals of my life, sitting at that small wooden table.

The floors in his home were dirt floors and his north walls were covered with news print and some pictures from playboy magazine. You heard me correctly. We laughed about his favorite month. I still laugh today when April rolls around. I saw small pieces of plywood stacked
neatly in one corner. Seems he spends any spare money he accumulates to buy wood to make ukuleles which he give away to interested children, with a lesson or two. He had several in various stages of completion leaning against the wall. One drew my attention for its color and style, but he refused my offer of payment.

On my departure I asked who was his favorite singer. To my surprise he said, "Willie Nelson". I smiled, offered him an embrace of friendship and yes I did leave twenty pesos under the tin plate.

I often think of my friend with a big heart and a song to give for anyone who will listen. To this day I occasionally sprinkle a little table salt on an onion to honor his spirit. Be well my friend...


His name is Dario...The salt of the earth...
Ego, my friends call me Doc

Stopped To Ponder


When they criticize you and you notice that you love them still.
Your work will be done.

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