"I once stopped at a little memorial on a sidewalk. A photograph, flowers, a candle. There were thick layers of wax underneath it. Somebody had been relighting that candle for a long time.
People walked past. A woman carried groceries. A motorcycle went by. Somebody nearby was making tacos.
Nobody lowered their voice. Nobody turned the street into a cathedral. The dead person was still part of the neighborhood. That made sense to me."
I love this, very bittersweet. It makes sense to me too.
Hi Brett, reading you this morning from Maine but a lifelong New Yorker, Tucson homeowner, fellow deadline writer and longtime lover of Guanajuato. Also, I’m one year older than you. I love your writing, your love of jazz but most of all your love of Guanajuato. Thanks.
“Musicians understand something journalists forget. Sometimes you are there because you are there. You listen. You talk. You eat. You hang out. Nobody has to monetize the afternoon.”
ME: JOAN DIDION has written that she likes to cover musicians. They don’t even know you’re there, she says.
"Nobody lowered their voice. Nobody turned the street into a cathedral. The dead person was still part of the neighbrhood. That made sense to me."
ME: EXACTLY a Second-Line funeral! As Dylan said about New Orleans, “The past doesn’t pass away so quickly here. You could be dead for a long time.”
“There are scenes like this everywhere. Three construction workers sit on a curb eating lunch. A woman sells tamales before sunrise. Somebody drives past with six chairs tied to the roof of a Volkswagen.”
ME: PROOF of my impression that art and politics don’t mix. The latter concerns what we want but don’t have. But as you clearly demonstrate, the former covers what IS.
I love reading your stuff! You can chew on it.
P.S. The flavor of Guanajuato brings to mind Siddhartha. He had a job interview. The man asked him what he could do. Siddhartha said, “I can wait.”
I loved this: “Ahorita means now. Or soon. Or later. Or not today. Or possibly never.” What an awesome concept. México is on the bucket list. See you at the old boy’s sit down and talk session. Nice work Bret, great story. ✊👍😁
Peggy Lee touched on what you describe in her 1940s song “Mañana.” I love the part about not fixing the window TODAY, because there is a better than even chance it won’t rain TODAY. On a related note, my 84 year old mother has decided she wants to move. There is no reason for this - she has a spacious, lovely home in a gated community attached to a country club. After 22 years she has concluded that this is no longer what she wants. She’s moving to an apartment in an urban setting, because she feels she has become stagnant and wants new experiences. I am both shocked and supportive.
Bret you are my favorite writer. I can smell the smells and see the colors and feel all the emotions in your writing. I also think my being a Black Cuban American and having had lived in Cuba for a few years at a very young age allows me to relate to all you describe. It’s all very familiar (although I can say Cubans are probably louder). What you wrote matters very much to me. I currently seek this kind of exploration. Like yourself, have no idea how long life will be. I am 69 years old and navigating cancer surgery recovery. Nothing is guaranteed. But everyday brings a different kind of moving forward. Not sure I will find what I seek for myself in Philadelphia, but it is where I am, so I will try. My imagination, well that takes me elsewhere; maybe to Guanajuato. I remember when you first moved there and you wrote about it, how I commented that I envied you. Your writing proves my point. I love that you wrote “designed by someone who had a personal grudge against straight lines” and “Motorcycles come through alleys wide enough for one nun and a grocery bag”. Perfect. I love your writing and I thank you for sharing it. I wish for as much life as you wish, to keep sharing your words as brilliantly as you do. Thanks, Bret.
Another enjoyable read. If we are lucky enough to get "old" some of us become more sensitized to the smaller elements around us that at a youthful age, we believed could "wait" until later. That "later" is now.
I’m enjoying your Mexican writings. I loved it there in the early 70’s. You mentioned crime - any worse now with the cartells? What about health care? Thank you!
"I once stopped at a little memorial on a sidewalk. A photograph, flowers, a candle. There were thick layers of wax underneath it. Somebody had been relighting that candle for a long time.
People walked past. A woman carried groceries. A motorcycle went by. Somebody nearby was making tacos.
Nobody lowered their voice. Nobody turned the street into a cathedral. The dead person was still part of the neighborhood. That made sense to me."
I love this, very bittersweet. It makes sense to me too.
Hi Brett, reading you this morning from Maine but a lifelong New Yorker, Tucson homeowner, fellow deadline writer and longtime lover of Guanajuato. Also, I’m one year older than you. I love your writing, your love of jazz but most of all your love of Guanajuato. Thanks.
Dear Bret, Some thoughts...
“Musicians understand something journalists forget. Sometimes you are there because you are there. You listen. You talk. You eat. You hang out. Nobody has to monetize the afternoon.”
ME: JOAN DIDION has written that she likes to cover musicians. They don’t even know you’re there, she says.
"Nobody lowered their voice. Nobody turned the street into a cathedral. The dead person was still part of the neighbrhood. That made sense to me."
ME: EXACTLY a Second-Line funeral! As Dylan said about New Orleans, “The past doesn’t pass away so quickly here. You could be dead for a long time.”
“There are scenes like this everywhere. Three construction workers sit on a curb eating lunch. A woman sells tamales before sunrise. Somebody drives past with six chairs tied to the roof of a Volkswagen.”
ME: PROOF of my impression that art and politics don’t mix. The latter concerns what we want but don’t have. But as you clearly demonstrate, the former covers what IS.
I love reading your stuff! You can chew on it.
P.S. The flavor of Guanajuato brings to mind Siddhartha. He had a job interview. The man asked him what he could do. Siddhartha said, “I can wait.”
All the best, and so glad to connect with you...
Peter G, Newton, MA
I loved this piece so much. Thank you.
I loved this: “Ahorita means now. Or soon. Or later. Or not today. Or possibly never.” What an awesome concept. México is on the bucket list. See you at the old boy’s sit down and talk session. Nice work Bret, great story. ✊👍😁
Peggy Lee touched on what you describe in her 1940s song “Mañana.” I love the part about not fixing the window TODAY, because there is a better than even chance it won’t rain TODAY. On a related note, my 84 year old mother has decided she wants to move. There is no reason for this - she has a spacious, lovely home in a gated community attached to a country club. After 22 years she has concluded that this is no longer what she wants. She’s moving to an apartment in an urban setting, because she feels she has become stagnant and wants new experiences. I am both shocked and supportive.
Your grandmother is an inspiration!
Bret you are my favorite writer. I can smell the smells and see the colors and feel all the emotions in your writing. I also think my being a Black Cuban American and having had lived in Cuba for a few years at a very young age allows me to relate to all you describe. It’s all very familiar (although I can say Cubans are probably louder). What you wrote matters very much to me. I currently seek this kind of exploration. Like yourself, have no idea how long life will be. I am 69 years old and navigating cancer surgery recovery. Nothing is guaranteed. But everyday brings a different kind of moving forward. Not sure I will find what I seek for myself in Philadelphia, but it is where I am, so I will try. My imagination, well that takes me elsewhere; maybe to Guanajuato. I remember when you first moved there and you wrote about it, how I commented that I envied you. Your writing proves my point. I love that you wrote “designed by someone who had a personal grudge against straight lines” and “Motorcycles come through alleys wide enough for one nun and a grocery bag”. Perfect. I love your writing and I thank you for sharing it. I wish for as much life as you wish, to keep sharing your words as brilliantly as you do. Thanks, Bret.
Your words brought tears to my eyes. I’m so glad you are recovering and continuing to create. Blessings to your family.
Well done... ! So many beautiful lines to cherish.
Another enjoyable read. If we are lucky enough to get "old" some of us become more sensitized to the smaller elements around us that at a youthful age, we believed could "wait" until later. That "later" is now.
Amen.
I’m enjoying your Mexican writings. I loved it there in the early 70’s. You mentioned crime - any worse now with the cartells? What about health care? Thank you!
learn about the life (and afterlife) of the artist who is most associated with the day of the dead:
https://edthemiddleagedhipster.substack.com/p/posadas-afterlife?r=211ma1&utm_campaign=post-expanded-share&utm_medium=web
Thanks for posting this, Ed. Important information.