A Happy Ending, When I was 14, and A Small Gesture

A Happy Ending Facebook post from our friend, Catherine

I have to share this story because it’s so cool and has a happy ending. It involved 8 people – 5 Americans, 2 Mexicans, and one Canadian (me). I actually made notes last night as a way to calm myself down because I ended up wired! It’s a bit long but … a heartwarming read I think.

All of this happened yesterday:

Me, 1:30 pm: I call my good friend Debbie from North Carolina to ask her a few questions about her US cellphone plan. She tells me she is in a noisy restaurant and will call me back when she gets home

 2 pm: Steve, Debbie’s husband, WhatsApps me to say they are on the eastbound bus and will be home in La Villita (just west of the Libramiento) in a few minutes

2:30: Debbie WhatsApps me to say Steve has lost his phone and that she can’t call me right now because she is trying to track it via Find My Phone but is failing to do so

Today she told me that their family shares the same Verizon plan and that Steve had called their most techie daughter for help. However that daughter’s cellphone battery died before she could track Steve’s phone. Steve calls his son but no luck. They call another daughter who is able to track Steve’s phone to Guadalajara.

4 pm: Debbie calls me to confirm this

4:45 pm: Debbie calls back to say a nice Mexican man had called to tell her something (maybe he has Steve’s phone?) but that the man speaks no English and my friends only have limited Spanish. She gets his name – Jorge – and his number and asks me to call Jorge but, although my Spanish is very fluent, I have trouble over the phone especially if there is ambient background noise

4:50: I find my landlady’s wonderful Mexican assistant Rocio and explain the situation to her

4:55: Rocio calls Jorge and confirms he is the bus driver and that he has Steve’s phone. He explains that his shift isn’t over and that he will be driving the slow bus back through Ajijic, arriving at the bus terminal about 7:15-7:30. 

5 pm: I decide to send Rocio a picture of Steve and Debbie which she forwards to Jorge. I get Rocio to ask Jorge to stop at the bus stop near the roundabout (gloriosa) closest to La Villita at about 7:15. I relay this info to Debbie and Steve who agree to camp out at the bus stop from 7 pm onward 

7:15: Debbie and Steve stop a bus going by and ask if the driver is Jorge but, wrong bus

7:20 Jorge calls Rocio saying he is in Riberas and will be  at the gloriosa soon

7:22: Rocio calls me with this info which I relay to Steve and Debbie

7:30: Jorge, Steve, and Debbie meet and this honourable man, Jorge, gives Steve his phone. Steve gives Jorge cookies and a cash reward while Debbie does cartwheels 🤸🏼‍♂️ on the street (in my imagination)

7:35: Debbie WhatsApps me the good news which I pass along to Rocio 

Many thanks to two honest, honourable, and helpful folks, Rocio and Jorge. I am not naive and know this story could easily have had a disappointing ending but, not this time.

From Steve, When I was 14

When I was 14 I was in the beginning of a five-year period when I was very successful in athletics. In wrestling I spent four years on the mats with other wrestlers, eventually becoming one of the top wrestlers in my school. In tennis I was runner up in my first tennis tournament at age 14 in my hometown of Lexington, NC. I won a number of local tournaments and was number one on my high school team. When I was 18 I played in the men’s championship for the town. Beating more experienced and talented older men.

I had one advantage to my credit. I was a human backboard who blooped back shot after shot from my opponent until they finally surrendered and made an error. Playing tennis is difficult. A very bouncy ball hit by a large racket on a big court. So much can go wrong, and for my opponents it did.

With changes in technology and lessons from country club pros my fun came to an end.  Rackets improved and professionally coached country club teens began beating the crap out of me. For someone who grew up hitting against the wall of my house and never having a tennis lesson I was discouraged. Discouraged enough to quit playing for 20 years. 

Years later living in Pittsboro the tennis scene picked up. And  for the next 25 years I could enjoy lots of doubles matches and regain my original love of the sport.

Now life has turned full circle at age 75. Many of those well-coached country club types have burned out knees and shoulders, and maybe some big bellies. I can still run. And my blooping blue collar tennis is working again. The human backboard is frustrating the last man standing as I race around the court flipping balls back to the over 75 crowd. If the backboard isn’t enough I can mystify my opponent with my totally unconventional, underhanded Pickleball serve. I’m back in the highlife again.

And from Debbie, A Small Gesture

We have a funny story from a year ago when Sandy, our Spanish teacher, visited us in the United States. It was a wonderful experience, introducing Sandy to North Carolina, the variety vacationland. She enjoyed time in our casita at Blue Heron Farm, walks along Topsail Beach, and a few days at Sadie’s Place in the mountains. We covered the state pretty well in two weeks. While in West Jefferson we treated her to a cultural experience – breakfast at Bojangles. Like every Bojangles across the south, we found the table of men who gather for morning coffee and story swapping. As we were leaving one of these ballcap and overall-clad gentlemen held the door open for Sandy. She responded with a simple gesture. Raising her left hand, arm bent at the elbow. The man looked totally confused. I giggled and smiled at him. Then said, gracias…thank you. He returned my smile. 

We had a good laugh as I explained to Sandy the significance of a similar gesture. In that NC mountain neck of the woods you just add the right hand to the left elbow and you get “up yours”!

We were telling this story last week while having lunch with Sandy and some of our guests from N.C. Sandy reminded me that this simple gesture is particularly helpful when you can’t be in conversation with others. For instance, when crossing a busy street and a car stops to let you cross. They will never be able to hear you say gracias. But the raised hand says it all. I decided to make the use of this simple gesture part of my daily walkabout practice. And wow! People have really responded with big smiles and waves. So easy.

A few days later I heard from several folks that the stoplights were all out for a couple hours and to their surprise (and delight) the traffic flowed much better than usual. There is an underlying and prevalent sense of respect for others here. Without the stoplights available to control the traffic, the default was just simple respect and taking turns. I can easily imagine how many smiles and small gestures were exchanged.