My Cousin Mary Jo

Wow, first cousin Mary Jo married 50 years???

My first memories of Mary Jo are from when my mother Zelma Coy Mallon, father Larry and brother and sister Timothy and Jennifer would make the long car trip, almost every summer during the ’50’s and early ‘60’s, from Monterey Park, California to Zelma’s hometown of Dexter, Michigan.

Dexter was so different from Southern California that I always looked forward to the adventure. I particularly enjoyed my cousins. Our Uncle Lavern and Aunt Merl’s children were all adults by then, but were always kind and we spent a good deal of time with Ed Coy, and some with his brother Dean, “helping” on their farms.

Uncle Ashley and Aunt Jo’s children, Chuck, Dick and Mary Jo were closer to our ages and were always a lot of fun to be with. Mary Jo was the tolerant older sister who could drive before the rest of it. She was good to the younger kids and was especially valued because she could be trusted not to tattle to adults about some of things we were doing that would not have be approved of.

I never remember Mary Jo wanting to make a fuss about anything, so it is completely within character that she has resisted a big celebration for their Golden Anniversary.

Rich Ulrich came into the picture after, so we did not get to know him until in later years, but we know him to be a “good guy.”

I look back on those trips fondly, I just hope those that had to put up with us feel the same way.

These last years we have actually been able to see a lot of Mary Jo and Rich, as they have travelled to San Diego to attend my mother’s 90^th birthday party and Cindy Schlager and I have been back to Michigan a number of times for a variety of family events.

As it was for me all those years ago, it is still an anticipated adventure to hook up again with Mary Jo, Rich and the rest of the family.

And, just so she knows, Mary Jo is still 16 in my mind’s eye.

Fondly,

Cousin Charley Mallon

January 13, 2014

Dancing with the Boulder Stars

On October 17, 2013 the Boulder YWCA presented their annual dance competition, Dancing with the Boulder Stars, at Boulder’s venerable auditorium, the Boulder Theatre.

Cindy Schlager, representing Wright Kingdom Real Estate as their Relocation Director won the competition doing the Lindy Hop to “Hit the Road Jack”.

See here for her performance. 

My Mother, Zelma Coy Mallon

July 16, 1916 – October 20, 2012

My mother, Zelma, whose name came from the nurse who attended her home birth, was born on a Dexter, Michigan farm in 1916.

She grew up there and remained very much a “farm girl” all of her life. She had a very strong concept of what is right and wrong.

As my brother Tim has said many times, “she did not have a mean bone in her body, “but she could be opinioned and argumentative.

Her fondest wish in life was to become a mother. Tim, my sister Jennifer and I agree she was a good mom who always put our welfare above all else in her life.

Born in 1916! 

Take a moment to consider all the things that occurred in her lifetime.

-World War I and II as well as all the conflicts since.

-The common use of automobiles, airplanes, television, cell phones and computers.

-Nuclear power and weapons, organ transplants and advance treatments for cancer and other diseases.

My mother remembered when her house first got electricity, running water and an indoor toilet.

Physical Activity

In an autobiography she finished in 1993, she recounted how she loved to participate in games while at school, especially “tip” which apparently was a form of softball without a bat.

She continued that interest in sports and physical activity all of her life.

One of my earliest memories is being at softball game she was playing and the uniform she wore. She was their pitcher. Mom always brought balls, gloves and bats to any family picnic.

She continued physical activities, often swimming, well into her 90’s until back pain force her to stop. Even after that she did regular sit ups.

Religion

Mother’s religion and church activities were always important to her. As a girl, highlights of the year were Easter and Christmas events at Dexter’s Methodist Church.

She retained a lifetime interest in understanding scripture and bible study group meetings were important events on her calendar.

Of special interest to her was the work of missionaries. She not only supported it with contributions, but housed returning missionaries in her home.

She also visited them at their sites in such exotic places as China, Japan and India.

She very much believed in the presence of Jesus in her daily existence and hoped to reach heaven in an afterlife.

Holiday Meals 

Now mom also made wonderful holiday meals that we all looked forward to. She would start early preparing the fixings so that they would all be ready at the same time.

Mom, who rarely drank, on a few of these occasions, then would relax with a half of a glass of wine.

Wham! When the affect of even that little amount of alcohol hit her, everything would quickly unravel.

The rest of us ended up scrambling to get the food on the table and the blessings said.

Genealogy  

As many of you know, mother was very interested in the genealogy of both sides of our family.

She spent many years researching our ancestors’ lives in locations like Michigan and Kansas and through events like the Civil War and western migration.

She also took a number of trips back to England and Ireland to look up long lost relatives both alive and dead.

Some branches of the family she was able to trace back to the 1700’s.

She has left the family with a wonderful record of all of her work. My cousin Cheryl Middleton has picked up the baton and done some beautiful work of her own.

Travel 

From her early adult years mom was an avid traveler. As a young woman, before and during World War II, she visited the states of Wyoming, California, Louisiana and Florida among others.

In Los Angeles she worked welding toilet seats in bombers (yes, she was a real life “Rosie the Riveter”) and in most of the other places she worked as a hair dresser.

Later she and my father traveled the world. I believe she had visited over 45 countries, which is probably low. If she were here today, she would now pipe up and give me the correct number.

I remember once, about 12 years ago, I was going to visit Iguasu Falls in remote, central South America.
When I told her about it she said “I was there 20 years ago with your father.”

Married Life 

My mother and father met in Florida in February of 1945 while he was still in the army near the end of WWII.

Mom and Dad, Florida, February 1945

They were married one week later on Washington’s Birthday and I was born 10 months later in California.

They made their new home in the Los Angeles area where dad resumed his pre-war career with the Racing Form as a pressman.

They raised their family in the suburb of Monterey Park and mother lived there until dad’s death in 1990.

A little later she moved to San Diego to be near Jennifer and many of her old friends who had previously moved here.

I’d like to finish up by reading something I wrote for mom on the occasion of her 90^th birthday in 2006.

My mother does some things better than anyone else I have known.

The first of these is gift wrapping. I remember, prior to Christmas, sitting on the floor in the front room, surrounded by boxes, ribbons, tape and paper watching her work. 

My favorite was when she would slice the big sheets of paper in one long motion with a satisfying szzzzzzzzsh sound. I’ve tried this many times myself but never have been able to match her skill. 

She always seemed to cut the paper the right size and fold it around the box so that the ends to be taped were sharp and neat. She would then finish up with the ribbon and bow. 

None of these pre-tied jobs with adhesive for her, but the real thing, wrapped around the box with a big bow on top. 

Funny, now I don’t remember what any of those boxes contained just how lovingly they were wrapped. 

Next would be preparing desserts. We sat down to dinner as close as possible to 6:00 p.m. every evening and there was always pie or cake or some other pastry to finish the meal. 

My favorites were chocolate éclairs (inspired by my “Little Golden Book”; Pantaloon) as well as custard, chocolate and prune whipped pies (the latter choice was never fully appreciated by my sister and brother). 

It is probably a good thing that I have not found her equal as a dessert-maker in my adult life. 

Lastly is her wonderful ability to make and retain friends. 

She still has life-long pals from her girlhood in Dexter, Michigan that she has stayed in contact with all these years. 

Francie Anson, whom we met 60+ years ago when I was a baby and we all lived in Basalone Homes, is still a dear friend. 

The Lunsfords and Evelyn Jones from our days on Riggin Street in Monterey Park were fast friends until they passed away. 

And our neighbors from Ferdinand Street, where we moved in 1953, the Benitez’, Gantz’, Chevaliers and many others are still very much a part of her life today. 

Now, since moving to San Diego in 1993, she has added more people from church and neighbors to her circle. 

Maybe, with a lot of effort, most of us can turn out a wrapped present or an occasional dessert to match mom’s. But few, if any, can truly claim so many rewarding friendships, over so many years, as can my mom. 

I’m proud to be your son.

So mom, today I say “so long”. You were there for my first breath and I was there for your last.

You were what you always wanted to be, a good mother.

I love you.

Good Bye

Visiting Tim While He was in the Peace Corps- Second Trip

Saturday, November 15, 1997  (11:34 am)

I am sitting on a bench overlooking a fenced-in pond stocked with tropical wading birds. It is hot, so I sat in the shade. Yesterday morning when I got up to spend a couple of hours in my Boulder, Colorado office before I left, I had to shovel six inches of snow off the sidewalk.

I’m at the zoo in Santa Cruz, one of the ways I plan to spend the day here in Bolivia’s second largest city. I expected a raw, thrown together town in

the jungle. Instead, it is very clean and well-organized, situated in a verdant savanna. The zoo, a green oasis in the concrete city, is the best I have seen South America.I arrived here this morning, leaving Denver 17 hours ago. I feel pretty well, as I was able to get 4 to 5 hours of sleep on the leg from Miami to La Paz. Tim will be coming in on Lloyd Aero Boliviano this evening from Cochabamba. I will join his flight as it continues on for another two hours to Manaus, Brazil, in the heart of the Amazon! Between now and them, I will see the rest of the zoo, have a long lunch and perhaps visit a flea market. The only negative is that my 26 lb. pack/suitcase, which I dare not let out of my sight, gets heavier every time I pick it up.

Monday, November 17

A lot has happened since my last entry. I never did make it to the flea market but rather spent most of the day at the zoo,

Santa Cruz, Bolivia Zoo

including taking a nap on the grass under a tree, I decided to return early to the airport but, just down the street, I came across a Canadian bar where I found some La Batt’s beer and English conversation. Tim’s plane came in at 7:30 p.m. and we just were able to extract his checked baggage in time to make the departing 8:15 p.m. flight to Manaus. On the flight Tim started to tell me about how he had to rush around at the last moment to obtain his entry visa for Brazil. This was quite interesting to me as I wasn’t aware of the need for one. I had no choice but to stay on the plane and try to get through passport control. pleading stupidity, which of course was just the case.

Well, even though we had a sympathetic officer who appeared to be willing to look the other way, someone else got involved who claimed she did not want “to take the responsibility” and I was denied entry. We had to get back on the airplane which was continuing on to Caracas. While the airline was obliged to give me free passage, I had to put more than $700 on a credit card so that Tim could accompany me. The ticket agent really tried to put it to me in charging that much, but I had the last laugh. That charge somehow never showed up in my bill, ha! All this occurred around midnight after a long day.

We finally got to Caracas around 3:30 a.m. and took a taxi to a cheap hotel nearby. We awoke just before noon and, after stopping at the airport to cash money orders and to get out bearings, we took a taxi up the mountains to Caracas, which is situated 900 meters above sea level.

We checked into the hotel Las Americas (Where I had stayed many years before when I first arrive in Venezuela with the Peace Corps in 1966) and spent the afternoon walking the Sabana Grande and eating a fine seafood meal. I am determined not to let this “change in plans” ruin the trip. We spent much of today, Monday, in a very disorganized travel agency attempting to arrange a trip to the Venezuelan Highland’s resort of Canaima, near Salto Angel. Also I am having difficulty making my cash card work in the appropriate machines here and have wandered all over in an attempt to cash travelers checks.

View of the tepuis from Campamento Canaima

Tuesday, November 18

It’s 10:31 a.m. and I’m sitting next to Tim on an Avensa flight to Canaima. When we got to the Caracas Airport this morning, two hours before the flight as required, we were hustled into

Tim in Campamento Ucaima

signing up for a full-day boat/jeep tour from the camp to the base of Salto Angel. The cost was an additional $125 each, which seemed a little steep, but when are we going to get to this part of the world again?

Last night, after finally picking up the last part of our ticket package from the travel agency at 5:00 p.m. and finding a money exchange house to cash some money orders, we took the “Metro” to Plaza Bolivar. This is a more upscale part of Caracas and the statue of the “Libertador” astride a horse was impressive. There was an orchestra warming up when we arrived, so that we decided to take a long walk and return to their music. Unfortunately, even after an hour they still hadn’t started and, as were tired from the frustrations of the day, we took the Metro back to our station of Chacaito and turned in.

Wednesday, November 19

View from Canaima

It is a small world. The Canaima lodge we have arrived at was founded by “Jungle Rudy,” a Dutchman whom I knew in Puerto Ordaz thirty years ago. In fact, he lived with me for a while when he was down on his luck. Ending up in the resort he founded was purely by chance.  Also, one of the guides at the camp attended Fe y Alegria in Puerto Ordaz where I taught in the Peace Corps, although well after I had left. He tells me that the Sisters Teresa and Sacramento, two nuns that I knew, are still there.

We took an afternoon trip to Salto Sapo the first day. the waterfall was broad and we were able to walk behind it.

Today we were picked up at 5:15 a.m. for our trip up the river in a dugout canoe to Salto Angel. There were 16 total in our group

Goin’ up river to see Salto Angel

divided up into two boats. All the Venezuelans were excited about a professional baseball player, Omar Vizquel, and his wife being among us. The trip up river took most of the morning and we finished it off with a long hike through the jungle to the base of the world’s highest waterfall, 1005 meters. After the clouds finally parted, we were treated to a spectacular view. The day was memorable and goes a long way towards replacing that which we had expected from a visit to the Amazon.

Friday, November 21

Tim and I are sitting in an English pub called La Reina Victoria in Quito, Ecuador. Yesterday we left Canaima at noon and spent the day traveling to Quito where we arrived at 9:30 p.m. We took a taxi to the hotel Real Audiencia in the Centro Colonial of the city. We spent this morning on a walking tour through that part of town where they have attempted to maintain the original building facades and character of the early XVII century.  As we could find no place to exchange travelers checks or a travel agency to purchase tickets for our planned flight to the coast, we took a cab to the “new city.”

This part of town is much more modern, with a lot of European-looking faces on the street. However, we were well reminded that we are still in Latin American as it took one-half day to organize our airplane tickets through an agency, and then we really didn’t get what we had been promised. The Quitenos are very friendly and the city, which almost strides the equator at 9,300′, has a pleasant climate with green hillsides and palm trees in the city plazas. Lots of cars, and of course, lots of evidence of poverty, but overall, the inhabitants appear healthy and happy, with a fairly good level of prosperity.

Jungle trek to see Salto Angel

Salto Angel through the clouds

Sunday, November 23

Yesterday morning Tim and I got up, checked out of the hotel and took a taxi up to the tortured looking statue of the Virgin on Panecillo. This “sugar lump” hill gives a wonderful panoramic view of much of Quito.

Just after mid-day we flew from Quito to Guayaquil on the coast and Ecuador’s largest city. We then took a bus about 110 K’s north to the fishing village/resort area of Playas. The heat and humidity of this place is overwhelming.

After checking into a mid-level Las Redes Hotel, we walked the beach, which was populated by late day bathers and a long row of fishing boats. Our room was sweltering last night and while trying to let in some cool air we just invited in a mosquito party. Today we moved to a better hotel, El Tucano, and got a room with air conditioning. We now sit beside the pool, reading and contemplating what to do with the rest of the day.

Monday, November 24, 1997

We decided to leave Playas early. However , it rained all last night (El Nino) and we were afraid the bus would not be able to  make it back to

Beach at Playas, Equador

Guayaquil. We saw a number of flooded out homes and intersections with more than a foot of water. Eventually we made it to the airport just to find the whole place flooded with everyone who could perched on any elevated surface.

Tuesday, November 25

Flooded Guayaquil airport

By good luck we were able to exchange our Quito return tickets on SAETA, which was  closed down, for TAME which still had occasional flights. We arrived mid-day to a drier, yet very overcast, Quito. A very friendly taxi driver took us up the central valley to the indian arts and crafts town of Otavalo about 100 K’s north.

The driver talked to us of history, current politics and took several side trips to show us sites of interest. We looked at several hotels in Otavalo and decided upon the Ali Shungu, which was highly praised in the Lonely Planet guidebook. We especially like gathering around the fireplace. We find this pueblo very charming with friendly Indians who still wear their region’s costumes on a daily basis. Everything possible to be made of wool is for sale. Quality is good and prices are very low.

A favorite photo. Notice the “LATITUD 0′ 0′ 0′ ” banner in the background, we’re standing on the equator with my pant legs still wet from being in the Guayaquil airport on the coast hours before.

Our friendly taxi driver and me somewhere between Quito and Otavalo.

Thursday, November 27 (Thanksgiving)

Tim and I are sitting on bus in Otavalo’s “Terminal Terrestre” waiting for it to fill up so that we can leave for Quito. We have spent these past few days relaxing in this pleasant town.

Warm and cozy in front of the fireplace at Ali Shungu in Otavalo

Disappointingly, we continue to suffer from the effects of “El Nino,” as we have been unable to see the surrounding, snow-covered volcanoes due to the cloud cover.

The quality of goods sold here by the  Indian cooperatives is outstanding. You can buy the heavy white wool sweaters. so evident in Ireland, for around $6.00! Tim purchased several items as gifts for his Bolivian Friends and a Fedora hat to complete his traditional dance outfit. I bought several small paintings, some shawls and two sweaters.

Central Market, Otavalo, Equador

We arrived in Quito around mid-day and took  a room at  the San Sebastian Hotel. This is a first-class facility with all the amenities, so that we were able to enjoy a traditional American Thanksgiving afternoon, watching the Dallas Cowboys play football. This evening, after a feint-hearted attempt at finding a traditional turkey dinner, we went to Las Redes restaurant and had a magnificent shellfish feast.

Friday, November 28, 1997

I’m on my way to Miami and then home. Unfortunately, one leg of Tim’s scheduled return flight had been canceled, so he had to spend another day in Quito. This was quite upsetting to him, as tomorrow is the first day of a weekend fiesta in Tarata that he “could not miss.” He is part of a dance group and doesn’t want them to feel he puts traveling above participating with them. Additionally, he has invited friends down for the event.

I was sad to leave him and sadder still to see him so disappointed in not being able to meet his obligations. However, all in all, it was quite an adventure and a pleasure to spend two weeks with my son.

Visiting Tim while He was in the Peace Corps – First Trip

In 1996 my son Timothy followed in his father’s footsteps and joined the Peace Corps. In the spring of that year he headed off  for three months of “in-country” training to prepare for a two-year assignment in that high altitude, South American country. Having been a volunteer myself 28 years earlier in Venezuela, and later obtaining a degree in Latin American Studies, I was looking forward to visiting him down there once he got settled. Here is an account of my first visit.

Thursday, September 26, 1996

Tim and me at lunch first day in Cochabamba

I left work at mid-day to catch a 2:45 p.m. flight to Dallas. From there I will go to Miami and finally to La Paz, Bolivia where I will arrive at 6:30 a.m. local time. Tim has a ticket waiting for me at the LAB office in the La Paz airport that will take me to his nearest airport, Cochabamba, later in the morning. I have two bags weighing 90 lbs. and about 30 lbs. more in a backpack filled with gifts that Tim requested, so I am concerned about getting everything through customs.

Friday, September 27

I am sitting in the La Paz airport awaiting the departure of my flight to Cochabamba. I dozed off a little last night, but really got very little sleep. However, I feel pretty well right now, we’ll see how it goes when the adrenaline wears off.Customs was not a problem, as they only gave my large bag a cursory look. So far the Bolivians are very attentive and helpful, more so than I have noted in other Latin countries.  My heavy bags finally caught up with me as I had to pay a 41 Bolivianos ($8.00) charge for 20 kilos of extra weight.

Anyway, I arrive in Cochabamba at 9:30 a.m. and was greeted by a very happy and skinny Tim. We checked into the three-star Empeador Hotel, where Tim’s Peace Corps group had been booked when they started training. We spent the afternoon touring the town and climbed a nearby

The “Cristo Rey” statue

hill on which the “Cristo Rey” statue is located. This piece is a copy of the one found in Rio, but the local organizers made sure it was a few inches taller. From the top of the hill we had an excellent view of the town and the mountains beyond, including 16,000” Tunari, which Tim had earlier climbed. The steep ascent left both my legs shaking, while little kids scampered up and down with little apparent effort.

Later we visited Tim’s Cochabamba weekend digs and got an early start on what proved to be a great evening at a Peace Corps Volunteer party with beer, cacha, visits to various bars, beer, coca leaves and great conversations. It only took me a short time to forget all the years that had passed since my service, I was back in the Peace Corps again. Aside from seeing Tim, this may have been the highlight of my trip. I finally stumbled

View of Cochabamba, Bolivia 1996

back to my room around 3:00 a.m.

Saturday, September 28

Tim came by at 8:00 a.m. to pick me up to see Cochabamba’s “Cancha”, their open air Saturday market. After some discussion and considered appraisal of our physical condition, we decided to blow off the Market and head down on a “trufi” to Tim’s work site, Tarata.

Before leaving, however, we decided to buy plane tickets to leave Monday morning for Chile. We opted to go there my first week down, as there are a lot of fiestas happening the second week in some of the Bolivian towns we are planning to visit.

After the 45 minute trufi ride we arrived in Tarata. The pueblo consists of

Peace Corps Party in Cochabamba

cobbled streets with adobe walls. As we are still in the dry season, there is a lot of dust. The pueblo is exceptionally clean and many of the younger people call out “Timo, como estas” as we walk by.After a well deserved nap, we took a walk in the campo to appreciate the beautiful, Southern California type landscape. In the evening I tried my first chicha, a corn and wheat liquor that reminds me of limeade with alcohol. Back to Tim’s room for an early night.

Sunday, September 29

After a tough night for me on Tim’s hard mattress, we got up for coffee and a breakfast roll and a tour of Tarata given by Tim’s

Tim with some of the peach farmers he worked with in Tarata

good buddy, Jaime, the town tour director.Jaime was very well prepared and we were soon joined by a high school group down from Cochabamba to see the historical sites. It seems that Tarata was a very important agriculture center for most of Bolivia’s history and produced at least three, and maybe as many as five, presidents. There were also many other historical figures that ran the gambit from Chaco War heroes, modern-day music composers and artist. Also, there is a lot more to the crumbling building architecture than originally meets the eye. The town now is in general decline as events have passed it by.In the afternoon we returned to Cochabamba and Tim’s apartment there. We were joined for a good Italian dinner by one of Tim’s roommates,

The “campo” in Tarata

Cathy, and after a return visit to Tio Lucas’ (the site of the previous Peace Corps party), we headed back for a short night’s sleep. We had to be at the airport at 5:00 a.m. to be first in line, as we are heading for Santiago, Chile tomorrow and one of the tickets is standby.

Monday, September 30

Not a good day!

I was sick from when we left Tim’s apartment through the flights to La Paz and Santiago and all night in a Santiago downtown hotel.

Tuesday, October 1, 1996

I’m still not feeling well today. We took a walk around central Santiago in the morning. The city appears more European than

Tim’s Tarata digs

South American. I was especially impressed by how well the people were dressed, especially the men in well-tailored, modern suits of the latest fashion.We caught a Tur Bus for Vina del Mar at midday and took a two-hour trip down the coast through some beautiful country. Unfortunately, I slept most of the way.

We checked into the four-star O’Higgans Hotel and took a walk through a part of town to the beach. Locals say the ocean water is polluted (don’t eat raw fish), but it looked pretty food to us, especially to Tim who has been in landlocked Bolivia for nine months

Tim’s room in Tarata

Tim asked an American girl, who was  working at the hotel, out for drinks and dinner. I joined them for the drinks (Pisco Sours = too sweet!) and went back to the hotel for an early night.

Wednesday, October 2

The money (Peso) here in Chile is very confusing. Inflation has driven the value down to the point that all the prices are in 1,000’s. 1,000 pesos = $2.50.

We had a relaxed day today, as we spent most of our time walking around town. We visited the Vergara Estate which has been turned into a museum and public gardens. Unfortunately, the house/museum was closed due to a public employee strike, but the gardens were extensive and well-kept.

Thursday, October 3

We took the early Tur Bus back to Santiago and checked back into the Metropoli Hotel. We spent the afternoon walking around

Concha y Toro Winery, Chile’s largest

the central city and took in a movie, “The Usual Suspects“. As I said earlier , Santiago has a very European feel. People appear healthy, prosperous and move with a purpose. Service is the best south of San Diego, California and there are not nearly as many beggars as there are in Boulder. We made Tim’s evening by going to the “Phone Booth Pub” and having some Guinness beer. He is taking one of the cans back to Bolivia to open on his next birthday.

Friday, October 4

We took a taxi out to Pisque, about 45 miles south of Santiago, to visit Chile’s largest winery, Concha y Toro. It drizzled the whole time, so the tour was limited to their warehouse and tasting room. We were a little put off by the fact that they charged for wine samples, but it was interesting.

We had a great seafood meal back in Santiago at the Mercado Central (no raw seafood!) and caught the evening return flight to La Paz. La Paz was beautifully lit up as we rode in from the airport to check into the Republic Hotel.

Bus station in La Paz

The city is old and worn down. Lots of traffic congestion and business suits are hard to find. The population is heavily Indian and moves at its own pace. However, the Spanish is much easier for us to understand here than in Chile.

Saturday, October 5

Tough night in a bed that collapsed around me, We spent too much time this morning buying airline ticket and finding breakfast. We also found a new hotel, as I could not spend another night in the old “cama.”

We ran into “Big” Tim, one of the guys from last Friday’s Peace Corps party in Cochabamba and have promised to meet up with him this evening.

Spent much of the day walking around La Paz. The city s in a magnificent setting, surrounded by dramatic, snow-covered

Lake Titcaca

mountain peaks that reach over 20,000′. However, it is not as attractive close up. Planning has been haphazard, roads, sidewalks, everything is either broken or under repair. Traffic is loud, stinky and combative. The people are good-natured, as they swarm across the roads and through markets.This evening we hooked up with a number of volunteers and had dinner at a very good, moderately priced Italian restaurant, Prontos. From there we headed out for a night of Cacha (some sort of dice game the volunteers learned from the Bolivians), beer, drunk locals, coca leaves and celebrating the other Tim’s 28th  birthday.

Sunday, October 6

We got up fairly early to catch a bus for the four-hour ride from La Paz to Copacabana, an historic site on lake Titicaca, the highest lake in the world. I got my first real view of the Altiplano, as the ride took us past camposinos breaking up the dusty, hard soil using teams of oxen and small town festivals (it’s Sunday) involving brass bands and dancers in their finest.

Bolivian marketplace

As we did not have enough time to take a boat out to the Isla del Sol (traditionally the birthplace of the Inca race), we made do with getting to know Copacabana and it’s elaborate Moorish style church. The lake water is very clean and a turquoise blue. We had an excellent lunch of lake trout and headed back for the ride home and an early night.

Monday, October 7

Up early again and off th La Paz’s airport for a trip down to what is supposed to be Bolivia’s most beautiful city, Sucre.

In my opinion the town lives up to its reputation. It has a very Mediterranean look and feel, with white-painted buildings and red tile roofs. The municipal buildings are large, ornate and well-kept up. There is a very appealing central plaza, many parks and a large European-looking population.

We have run into as many German speakers here as we did in La Paz. For some reason this country appears to be a major

Che, the revolution lives in Sucre, Bolivia

destination spot for these travelers.We also continue to run into what we are told is a common problem, no one has and change; coin or bills. I don’t know why, but almost every business transaction, from taxis to restaurants, involves requests for smaller denominations or the running off to neighboring businesses for “cambio.”

Anyway, back to Sucre. We took a walk around town and of course once again ran into the local volunteers. We ended up having dinner with a few and watching Monday Night Football at a bar with cable.

Tuesday, October 8

Cerro Rico, Potosi, Bolivia

Had a relaxed day. Spent a good deal of time with my book, Lost World, while sitting at the hostel or in the central plaza. We did take a hike up a hill for a view or the entire city and toured the Textiles Indigneas Museo.

The latter was very interesting display of the different types of cloth, weaving, designs and colors used by the various groups of indians in the Sucre area.

We watched Bolivia lose 0-1 to Uruguay this evening in a boring futbol match. The Bolivians appeared to to expect to lose.

Wednesday, October 9

Went back to the Textile Museum early and bought a beautiful piece of

Our guide helping us buy “explosivos” dynamite as gifts for the miners we will encounter in Cerro Rico

work. Now, what am I gong to do with it?We took a bus for the four-hour ride to Potosí. As Potosí is the highest city in the world (13,300′), the bus climbed most of the way. I was interested to see that once we gained this altitude, which is well above tree line in Colorado, there were not only trees, but the land is intensely cultivated for field crops (is all has to do with proximity to the equator).

We were able to tour their main church, Iglesia de la Merced, which had been built in pre-independence times for Spanish (white) only worship. We also had the opportunity to experience a wonderful tour of the Casa Moneda, given by an excellent guide. This is where the silver from Potosí was turned into Spanish Reales from 1545, and into Bolivian Soles and Bolivianos, after independence. The “Casa” continued to produce coins until 1909.

Thursday, October 10

Had another tough night, as sleep is difficult for those not used to this altitude. We found ourselves awakened often, gasping for air. We took a tour of the infamous Cerro Rico, where eight million Indian and African slaves died while extracting silver from 1545 to 1875.  Conditions are said to have improved greatly since the miners’ rebellion of 1952 wrested control of the mines from the hands of the few owners.

Tour group for the Cerro

We started the tour in the shopping area where the independent or “Colectivo” miners purchase their necessities: dynamite, cord, coca leaves, cigarettes, alcohol, etc. We were encouraged to purchase some of the items as gifts for the miners we would find working. First time I ever bought a stick of dynamite!

We proceeded with a German couple and our guide to the hill where we arrived at a hole in the rock that served as the mine entrance, we donned helmets and rain coats and, carrying lanterns, entered into the low-ceiling passageway where we were shown figures of Cristo and “Tio” (the Devil) to whom the miners pay homage,

With the high altitude, my cold and the low, narrow space, I asked to wait

Bolivian silver miner

outside for the rest of the time the group would spend underground. I passed the next two hours baking in the sun on the side of the hill, while the rest of the group dispensed their gifts and observed the miners at work. Thank God I wasn’t born into their situation.The average miner works 12 to 16 at day, six days a week. They typically have a large family and drive themselves hard, with coca leaves keeping hunger and exhaustion at bay. On a good day a miner can make 80 Bolivianos ($16.00).We spent the evening watching a poor American film, In The Nick of Time, and enjoyed some indigenous music in the Central Plaza, which was the beginning of a week-long cultural festival.

Friday, October 11

We caught the only scheduled flight that day out of Potosi for La Paz at 8:15 a.m. At 13,000+ feet only a small craft can get up enough speed to take off.  I’m glad air traffic is so reasonable within Bolivia, as this $60 ticket saves us six hours in a bus.

I’m happy to be leaving this high altitude, as the thin air and head cold have given me a constant headache.

We spent the day walking around central la Paz and checking out our last market. We also took in yet another movie, this time a repeat, Independence Day, and had dinner at yet another Italian restaurant, Pronto, with a friend of Tim’s. Lisa, who was celebrating her 25th birthday.

Saturday, October 12

The long trip home. Leaving La Paz at 7:15 a.m. but I won’t get into Denver until 10:40 p.m. It has been wonderful spending the last two weeks with Tim and sharing a part of his adventure. Unfortunately, I have been ill with amoebas and a head cold much of my time here, so I have not had the energy I would have wanted.

The Bolivian people are in general very gracious, but I find much of their country bleak and desolate. It has been a good trip, but I look forward to returning home.

                                                                      La Paz market

MACKENZIE

Mackenzie with her auburn hair that has never been cut,

Mackenzie Mutton Bustin Champion 2012

Is it true about redheads or only made up?

Oft times she can be willful and strong,
But who’s to say whether it’s right or wrong.

One thing we know for sure that is right,
Her mommy and daddy love her with all their might.

And, of her Grandpa Charley, what can be said?
Of all his granddaughters, she’s his favorite redhead.

Love,

Grandpa Charley
February 2, 2011

.

KIKI

Kiki being Kiki 2011

Is she Kiki Sylvanowicz or really Snow White?

Whichever you choose, you are probably right.

One thing for certain, it is generally agreed,

To everyone who knows her she is a princess indeed.

Dark hair, fair skin and a laugh that is contagious,

As a complete package, she is really outrageous.

But considering truthfully in all reality,

Best of all this is Kiki’s personality.

Love,

Grandpa Charley

1/29/2011

ANNABELLE

My granddaughter Annabelle, so pretty and smart,

Annabelle’s School Picture 2011

Always willing to cooperate, right from the start.

She enjoys school, parties and friends,

Each day for her is an adventure that never ends.

But most of all, she likes helping her mother and father,

‘cause being a good girl for her is really no bother.

And with her little sister Kiki she is always kind,

‘cause friends come and go, but better than family, she will never find.

Love,

Grandpa Charley

1/29/2011

Family War Hero

George H. Mallon

The annual Bolder Boulder 10K race will be run through town on Memorial Day, May 28, 2012. This year, as I have done a number of times in the past, I will be participating. In addition to your numbered bib, which you wear pinned to the front of your shirt, you are given the option of placing another treated sheet of paper on your back with the information about some person “I’m running in honor of………” This year I will be honoring my great-uncle, George H. Mallon. He was the brother of my Grandmother Isabela and distinguished himself in France in World War I. Below see his story which I believe was clipped out of a magazine.

2012 Bolder Boulder 10K Memorial Day