A Friend on the Border
Yesterday I spoke with an old friend whose family has deep roots in Mexico. He still has businesses there. [A few years ago I posted a story of how one of his relatives was almost shot by Pancho Villa; a status which many would have envied.]
He lives in Nogales, Arizona which is cheek-by-jowl to Nogales, Sonora. He told me that when he was a child he would often run back and forth across the border ten or fifteen times a day.
Times were simpler back then.
Yesterday he mentioned that so many Mexicans do their Christmas shopping on the American side that people taking cars across the border sometimes have a three-hour wait.
Since his business requires frequent visits to Nogales, Sonora, he solves the traffic problem by simply walking across the border and taking taxis.
I've been encouraging him to finish a book on border culture and the sort of blur that has been a large part of his life.
I'm sure you've met people like him; individuals who are walking novels.
Let us make a vow to pester them or at least get them near a tape recorder.