"Don't Get Off the Bus!"

The other day I received a phone call from my dear friend and 'art mentor', Miguel Rosario. We have several lengthy calls each year since he, like I, don't scroll phones or text. I love him dearly, along with his wife, Nelida, who has enbraced me like a sister and included me in their family.

The first time I met Miguel was outside supermarket El Muelle in la Parguera several years after arriving in Puerto Rico.  A newly minted Artesana, I'd set up a table with my artwork during a swealtering summer parking lot party, sponsored by the liquor companies.  We became friends and later partners in an art gallery, I won't repeat the story, but you can read an earlier story: Cayo Caribe.

Tourism, the lifeblood of Artists, dried up following 9/11; after which I usually went home from shows with 95% of the pieces I brought.  During one depressing weekend fest Miguel, a painter and Santos carver, said, "Come with me."  What, leave my table unattended?  "Don't worry about it," since artists always covered one another; plus there weren't exactly throngs.  "Come with me."

As we walked through the streets of Old San Juan I kept asking, "Where are we going?"  Miguel refused to say more than, "You'll see," while imparting words of wisdom like, "If something doesn't sell, RAISE the price!"   Huh?  "People will stop and look harder to understand why the price is high."  But I was starving.  Week after week was the same, taking its toll on my psyche, but I kept showing up.

We finally stopped at an old church.  I assumed he was going to show me some artwork inside, but we walked into a full Mass.  I went to plenty of Masses as a kid (marriages and funerals), a few as an adult, and always got tired of Stand Up, Kneel, Sit Down, Kneel, over and over; plus I can't stand the incense.  This was no different, except it was in Spanish.  I kept mouthing, "Can we go now?"  No, he'd shake his head.  So I sat on the hard bench and decided to make the best of it.

Miguel wasn't trying to convert me, but he did want me to be easier on myself and have a little Faith.  Stop and smell the roses, as it were. Sounds nice now, but at the time I didn't appreciate the lesson.  Anyway, since Miguel's first recommendation he's been my mentor, always offering suggestions, encouragement and advice.  "Paint the cat's eyes like a football, then curve the edges for the eyeball."  I can paint but I can't draw worth a darn, which is why my figures and murals take at least four times as long as most other artists. 

So during our phone call, when Miguel asked whether I was still writing and painting, I had to admit, "Very little."  I choked up describing the grief I still experienced over BC's passing, causing me to feel almost paralyzed.

"Don't do that, you'll depress yourself.  Don't get off the bus!"

What the hell does that mean?  I can't repeat his words verbatim but I'll try:

"We all are on a bus, heading towards our (destination/future/goals).  The bus may stop every once and awhile, BUT DON'T GET OFF - Stay on the bus.

Miguel had just finished describing the stroke he lad last month, what do I have to complain about?  Like the rest of us, his body isn't what it used to be but he truly enjoys life, I envy him that. They're still living without water or electricity following Hurricane Fiona in September, but he doesn't complain.

Without realizing it I took his words to heart and am almost finished with the ornaments which have been hanging like hams in my RV since October.  I also finished three Black Lab rocks to go with the earlier one, thank goodness.  They've been sitting on my stovetop for weeks, too.  (I'm not going into the rock-painting business; only for fun.)

Some of my spunk has returned, and most thankfully I can think of BC more and more without weeping.  I even had a couple dreams in which she was a part, not memories but new situations where she behaves like usual.  The sadness is ending.  Content may not be as good as Happy but it's better than Lifeless.

So, my friends, if the past couple years have taken a toll on you to the point where you start giving up and wondering, "What difference does it make?"...put aside those thoughts and let Miguel's advice offer some hope.  You're not alone.  (Photo right:  R. Delameter)