Always Hopeful / Siempre Esperanzado

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

Final thoughts before bidding good-bye (good riddance?) to 2018. May 2019 bring us all a much better world.

Christmas isn’t over in Spain until the Three Kings arrive on 6 January. According to Spanish tradition, they’re the ones who bring the gifts… not Santa Claus. In Fuengirola, they arrive by helicopter… just like in the bible.

Reflexiones finales antes de decir adiós (¿buen viaje?) A 2018. Espero que 2019 nos trae a todos un mundo mucho mejor.

La Navidad no termina en España hasta que los Reyes Magos llegan el 6 de enero. Según la tradición española, ellos son los que traen los regalos … no Papá Noel. En Fuengirola, llegan en helicóptero … como en la Biblia.

Sometimes, the best things in life ARE Free: Luke with his favorite Christmas gift… / A veces, las mejores cosas de la vida SON gratis: Luke con su regalo de Navidad favorito …
… and Moose and Dudo with theirs. / … y Moose y Dudo con el suyo.
There’s nothing quite like sitting at home by the fire on a cold (15c/59F) winter’s night. / No hay nada como sentarse en casa junto al fuego en una noche fría (15c/59F) de invierno.
Family can sometimes be nice but we all need a bit of personal space. / La familia a veces puede ser agradable, pero todos necesitamos un poco de espacio personal.

And patience is its own reward. / Y la paciencia es su propia recompensa.

Paul Blane is still working on The Kings. I’m sure they’ll be ready for the Epiphany. / Paul Blane todavía está trabajando en Los Tres Reyes. Estoy seguro de que estarán listos para la Epifanía.
I’m so looking forward to the end of this season’s pig out. / Tengo muchas ganas de que termine el temporado de comiendo como un puerco.

“Either you get eaten by a wolf today or else the shepherd saves you from the wolf so he can sell you to the butcher tomorrow”  / “O te come un lobo hoy o el pastor te salva del lobo para que te pueda vender al carnicero mañana”

Ogden Nash

San Geraldo And The Pig

In the summer of ’82, my parents and The Kid Brother drove up from New York for their one and only visit to us in Boston. We moved, spur of the moment, to Los Angeles a few months later.

San Geraldo thought it would be fun if we all drove to the town of Plymouth (home of Plimoth Plantation and Plymouth Rock) about 45 minutes away. Plimoth Plantation was home to some of the first people to emigrate to America from England on the ship The Mayflower. Four of San Geraldo’s 10-great-grandparents were on that ship.

The “English Village” portion is a living history museum, which means everything is meant to be authentic. The staff stay in character and look and act as if they are living in the period from 1620, the time the settlement was founded, until 1691, when it was abandoned. It’s beautiful and fascinating.

In one reconstructed home, the housewife was preparing dinner. A chicken (or maybe it was a goose) carcass lay on the table surrounded by freshly chopped vegetables and a cloud of flies. The house reeked. Like I said, authentic.

(Click the images. You can almost smell the authenticity.)


There were pigs out back. The stench was awful, so we quickly walked to the other end of town and stopped, at which point My Mother The Dowager Duchess said, “What happened to Jerry?” He was nowhere in sight.

We had only just passed our first anniversary but I already knew him well enough to know exactly where he was.

“I’m sure he’s back there petting the pig,” I said.

The Kid Brother said, “Are you kiddin’?!?”

And I said, “Nope.”

So, we walked back through the village. There he was, scratching the biggest sow behind her ear and whispering sweet nothings.

My parents wrinkled their noses, but laughed. The Kid Brother scowled and snapped, “Tell him to wash his hands!”