A couple of weeks ago, Lakeside friends gathered to honor two Lakeside women in separate celebrations. The events couldn’t have been more different, the occasions were polar opposite, but it occurred to me that the outpouring of love and affection for the women is very typical of the way it works here.
Mae Collins’ Birthday Breakfast
Nearly Every Monday morning I meet the same small group of friends for breakfast at Mom’s Deli and Restaurant in Riberas del Pilar (the area between San Antonio Tlayacapan and Chapala along the highway here on the north shore of Lake Chapala.) As we’ve become Monday morning “regulars” at Mom’s we’ve gotten to know Mom (aka Mae Collins) and her hardworking, well-organized, fabulous-baking daughter Camille.
Mae’s birthday (one of those landmark years ending in 0) was May 3, a Monday. Mae wanted the day to pass quietly and had made it clear to Camille that she wanted no pomp, circumstance, muss or fuss – let alone cake.
A local harpist played “Las Mananitas” as a shocked Mae Collins entered her restaurant on her birthday. Quickly regaining her composure, she took a bow in response to the cheers and applause.
Because Camille believes special events need to be acknowledged, she told a few regular Monday customers, gathered up her own husband and sons, her brother and sister-in-law and their two kids, and then invited a handful of friends to be on hand for a small surprise “do” for Mom when she arrived at work on her birthday.
In an attempt to compromise, Camille reined in her original plans. Instead of a full corps of mariachis, she made do with a harpist playing Mexico’s romantic music and a trio of delicious cakes – Red Velvet, Intense Chocolate and Pina Colada. Breakfast with birthday cake and harp music…what a treat.
Mom, by the way, took the event with great good humor, only a few of those in attendance heard her telling Camille that later she intended to inflict Camille with great bodily harm. I’m glad I was there to wish Mae a happy birthday and to join her small celebration.
Diane Murray’s Memorial Mass
A few hours later, I spotted several of the old friends who had been at Mae’s birthday breakfast at a much sadder celebration of life honoring another dear friend.
Diane Murray came to Lake Chapala with her then husband back in the 1960s when they were young and carefree – and more than a little influenced by the Hippie movement. Eventually, when her husband headed north for the border, Diane remained here at Lakeside, and carved out a space for herself here, and for her two beautiful children Estefan and Amanda who were born in Diane’s Ajijic home.
Diane, who was a valued long, long-time member of the Eager and Associates Real Estate team (handling their rental management, closing details, and other important tasks) truly made many of the best attributes of Mexico and Mexicans part of who she was.
Nothing much ever got Diane down, she learned to live in the moment – not in the fear or tomorrow or the regrets of the past. She just didn’t let it into who she was -- not the fire that started with the Christmas tree and singed and scorched many of her belongings, not living a country away from her now adult children, not even the valiant fight she waged against cancer – nor the recurrence that she couldn’t overcome were allowed to ruin her outlook for more than a minute here and there.
You never had to wonder what Diane was thinking, nor how she felt about much of anything – she told you, and minced few words in the process. I like that in a person; I liked that in Diane and that’s one of the things I’m missing most about her.
The music at Diane’s Mass was extraordinarily lovely – several stringed instruments accompanied a woman with a superb soprano voice. Still, I rather think, knowing how Diane loved Mexico and the relentless joy of the celebrations, that she also appreciated the volleys of skyrockets lit by area construction workers as part of their May 3 feast day party that interrupted the Mass several times.
It was just the right touch, and just the right way to tell our old friend good-bye.
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