Sunday, December 31, 2023
It’s New Years Eve, and we got to go to church today. We went in Empalme, to Betty’s home ward. The church building is almost directly behind her mom’s house.
Sacrament meeting was good. The speakers did a fine job. And the Ayalas were in town (Dani and Valentín were raised in Empalme as well). That means their kids were there, which made all of my kids happy. Betty also really enjoyed being back in her home ward. She’s still got good friends there.
Primary was fun. River really enjoys attending nursery at church. She likes the toys and the snacks that they usually have. In smaller church units, however, there is no nursery, and the little children can attend primary with the older kids. In Empalme, today, they had no nursery, so River went with Ian to the primary. She wasn’t happy about it, but she sat next to Ian. After just a few minutes, he brought her to me, saying she was being fussy. She looked at me and said “They only speak Spanish!” Of all of our kids, River has the hardest time with the language here. She understands most everything, but she does not like speaking it (although she can). So I went in and sat with her.
The teacher first asked the children what their favorite primary song was. River raised her hand and said: “Sandwiches.”
So maybe she doesn’t understand everything.
I told her, no, the teacher was looking for a song.
River replied: “Snowman.”
The teachers all looked at each other like “What is that?”
I told them: “You know, the one about the little snowman?”
They looked at me like, “We don’t know about snow here.”
So then River said: “Popcorn.”
Again, nothing from the teachers. Apparently, they don’t have “Popcorn popping on the apricot tree” here either. Just palm trees and mango trees.
River looked at me like: “What kind of primary is this?” Then she said: “I Am a Child of God.”
That one they know.
After a few minutes, I was able to leave River and get back to the adult Sunday School class. After that ended, I went to pick up the kids. When I poked my head into the room, River was offering the closing prayer -- in English. The prayer went like this:
“Heavenly Father. Thank thee for this day. Thank thee that the boys with the hair could come. Thank thee that I have a crush on them. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”
After church we spent quite a while just visiting with Betty’s friends, and the kids had a great time hanging out in the parking lot. You can really tell when they are together that they care about each other. It’s one of the very best things that’s happened on this trip.
After a while of that, we swung over and picked up Betty’s mom and drove to a house kind of on the outskirts of town -- in front of the cemetery -- where the Ayalas were having a pizza lunch.
As soon as we got there, River saw that there were dogs in the front yard. “¡Perro!” she screamed, as she ran to give one of the dogs a big hug. “¡No!” we all screamed as we realized it was a tick- and flee-infested stray. The rest of the afternoon we had to play keep-away between River and these cute, but very dirty dogs.
It was a great visit with friends. We had pizza, and the kids played foosball. Ian found a guy who had a switch and spoke English, and they became friends. Anahi sat and visited with the older ladies for quite a while. Alicia and Valentina sat and talked as well.
After a while, River went over to the playground to play, and then we took a walk over to the cemetery to see Betty’s family plot -- including her grandmother’s grave.
When we were headed down to Guaymas, Betty’s cousin Fina had told her that she would find the house empty and the cemetery full. That was almost true.
The cemetery is actually beautiful, with lots of statues of Jesus and Mary. It’s surrounded by hills on which stand hundreds of great saguaro cacti. We went during the golden hour -- when the sun is dipping low and everything is bathed in a soft warm light.
The cemetery was also sad. There are very few flowers on the graves. Vale told me that people don’t put flowers on graves in Empalme because they will just get stolen and put on someone else’s grave. The graves themselves are also sad. Betty misses her grandmother terribly. Her uncle Marcos is there. He was murdered in Colorado, USA. Shot seven times by a crazy American racist during his daughter’s birthday party. Her cousin Miguel is also in this cemetery. He was a police officer in Empalme who was gunned down in front of his wife and children by narcos who were tired of him hassling them.
The melancholy of the visit continued when we got back to the house and saw a funeral procession coming down the road. Everyone was carrying pink balloons. It was the funeral of a little girl
...
On New Years Eve.
...
After a bit more play and visiting, we drove back into Guaymas with Betty’s mom, and we picked up her sister Cháncali. When we got back to David’s house, Betty sat down with her mother and aunt, and she asked them a bunch of questions about their lives. It was a great family history moment. After about 90 minutes of that, we packed up in the cars and drove to Irene’s sister’s house for a New Year’s Eve party.
When Mexicans celebrate Christmas and New Years, they do it dressed to the nines. We went in our traveling Sunday clothes, and we felt totally underdressed. The kids said we looked like vagabonds, and we probably did. Despite that, we were so grateful for the generosity of strangers who took us into their home to celebrate with them. The dinner was amazing, and the company was fantastic. As midnight began to approach, they started playing music, and people started dancing. Kimball was the first of our group to join the fray. Then Betty and I and the rest of kids jumped in.
Just before the countdown, they turned on the radio, and we listened to the “Brindis de Bohemios” (Toast of the Bohemians), a poem by Guillermo Aguirre y Fierro. It tells the story of six Bohemians (artists), sitting in a cantina on New Years Eve.
One stanza reads:
Olvidaba decir que aquella noche,
aquel grupo bohemio
celebraba entre risas, libaciones,
chascarrillos y versos,
la agonía de un año que amarguras
dejó en todos los pechos,
y la llegada, consecuencia lógica,
del “Feliz Año Nuevo”...
I forgot to say that that night,
That bohemian group
celebrated between laughter, libations,
jokes and verses,
the agony of a year that left bitterness
in all hearts,
and the arrival, a logical consequence,
of a “Happy New Year ...”
Each of the artists then takes a turn making a toast. They toast to the goodness of beauty in life. They toast in gratitude that they have survived another year. They toast to hope. Finally, Arturo is the only one left to toast, and he toasts to his mother -- the one who gave him life, and gave her life for him.
The poem ends:
El bohemio calló; ningún acento
profanó el sentimiento
nacido del dolor y la ternura,
y pareció que sobre aquel ambiente
flotaba inmensamente
un poema de amor y de amargura.
The bohemian fell silent; no accent
profaned the feeling
born of pain and tenderness,
and it seemed that over that environment
floated immensely
a poem of love and bitterness.
When the poem finished, the clock struck. Everyone wished each other a happy new year with a hug — the warm embrace of strangers — and the dancing continued.
It was such a unique experience -- like something from a novel. Nothing I say here can do justice to the feeling of it all. The melancholy of the day. The boisterous joy of the night. It all combined in this one, unforgettably magical moment.
But the night wasn’t quite over. On our way back to David’s house, we stopped at Sergio and Chuyita’s, and they invited us over for lunch tomorrow.
Finally, since it was now 2024, we had one last order of business. In our church, the young men can receive the Aaronic priesthood and be ordained a deacon in the year they will turn 12. That means that Ian was now eligible. And we happened to be all dressed in our Sunday clothes. So we drove back to David’s house where Kimball, David, and I put our hands on Ian’s head, and Kimball ordained Ian to the priesthood.
It was a perfect end to a beautiful day.
