Where Blood Is Thicker Than Water

November 2009


Jaime invited Sharon and me to visit his parents which he does every Friday morning. We met in Soriana’s, a major Mexican grocery store chain, parking lot at 8 after he had dropped off his children to their respective schools. He ambled over with two large bags of groceries to take to his parents. Neither of his folks has ever driven a car. Since they live six kilometers past the turn off to the airport, their trek for groceries entails toting bags onto buses or a lengthy taxi trip. So Jaime bringing groceries to his folks is a nice touch.
Jaime’s parents live on the grounds of a monolithic water park that few gringos will ever see since it is so far away from the touristy areas of Mazatlan. It is set far off the road and secured by an unlocked drunken gate that Jaime dragged away so we could pass. I drove up the gravel spewing road to the front entrance. The sign read 50 pesos Ninos and 60 pesos Grande. All day passes cost less than $4 for kids and less than $5 for adults. The season runs from April 1 – September 30, and every Sunday over 2,000 people roam the cavernous facility. Some days over 3,000 people spend the day there.
Jaime introduced us to two gentlemen at the entrance. He spent some time with them as old amigos are wont to do. We marched on. The first family member, a scruffy looking curly haired mutt with unbridled enthusiasm, sprinted to us. It reminded me of so many fresh from the airport gringos with tongues out and tails wagging, and how they run up to Jaime jumping up and down at the palapa.
We followed Jaime as he pointed out one pool complex after another (14 all told). He showed us the owner’s home that he drooled over as the house of his dreams. Its hacienda styled veranda opened up with a view of a grove of trees and another of the pool sections with slides and huge statues of cartoonish animals. Beyond it in the northwest corner of the park he took us to his parent’s home. It benefitted from the numerous shade trees. The house itself had two small bedrooms, a small kitchen, bathroom and an entrance where the pictures of the family’s happier moments greeted us.
Jaime’s dad could be walking down the middle of the Golden Zone far from his home and Jaime’s job, but a owner at Paraiso could see Carlos, stop him, and ask with confidence, “Are you Jaime’s dad?” They look that much alike. Our inability to speak Spanish is shared by his inability to speak English, so we relied on Jaime’s translation skills. We had questions, but they would wait until after breakfast.
So Jaime took us on a tour of the grounds. This place could easily swallow up 3,000 people. It had large palapa areas that provided shade. Set into the cement flooring aluminum tables and benches provided family gathering spots. Barbeque pits surrounded each of the palapas. Shade trees abounded, but many hadn’t survived last month’s storm. The winter preparations for spring may require more employees this year. One tree in particular did major damage to the roof of one of the palapas.
Jaime, Sharon, Carlos, and I sat a rickety table in plastic chairs in the yard awaiting Mama Morales’ huevo rancheros. This is a Friday morning staple. My favorite Jaime cliché for describing anything that he likes is “It is sooooooo good.” I agreed. Her refried beans and eggs smothered in her tomato and chile sauce tasted soooooo good. No Nunez doesn’t eat eggs so beans, ranchero sauce, and home made tortillas had to do. And she confessed they did well.
Then we snapped pictures. We asked questions. “When did you two meet?”
“We grew up in the same village and are the same age,” Mama said.
“When did you know that you were right for each other?” Guess who asked that question.
“We were 15,” Mama smiled and looked at Carlos. He smiled too.
“What are you proudest of Jaime for?”
“He loves his family,” both nodded their heads.
About that time Jaime’s sister Rocio and her 10 month old daughter arrived. We took more pictures. White Oprah abducted the baby. Rocio works during the season as the ticket taker at the park and has for many years. Her husband is a middle school math teacher. She too comes to breakfast each Friday. The only person not in attendance for these breakfasts is Carlos junior, Jaime’s younger brother, who in a motorcycle accident when he was 21. He had also worked and lived at the park. He died riding home on a Sunday morning. We didn’t ask about him until we rode home.
Before we could leave, White Oprah had to give up the baby. Rocio grabbed her child who wept uncontrollably and reached for Sharon. The child screeched and sobbed and held her hands out as we walked away. Even babies feel White Oprah’s power.
* * *
After we dropped Jaime off at his car, we talked about the depth of Jaime’s love for his family. We have watched him with his wife and his children. To watch the joy he brings to his parents, his sister, and her child impressed us. To listen to his parents describe him did not surprise us. But when Jaime talked about his brother, we were truly moved. He said his family has never been the same. His death ten days before Christmas changed the nature of that important Catholic holiday forever. When his brother died, Jaime quit his job to do Carlos’ job. He moved in with his parents for a year when their grief was at its darkest. Seeing Jaime’s mother looked adoringly at her son answered all of my questions about his relationship with his parents.