Issue 14              MARCH 2012

Dear Friends and Family, Old and New, Near and Far:

It’s been an eventful few months since I wrote last, full of both joy and sorrow.  Joy at reconnecting with friends on the West Coast, and the rich pleasure of family dinners and excursions in Hawaii over Christmas.  Then my brother and I were notified that our mom was declining rapidly, and we both changed our plans and went to visit her in Indiana.  She passed away on January 31, at the age of 96.  Like many people in The Greatest Generation, her work was unsung, so I share with you this tribute to her life.

ELNORA FRESHLEY HIATT  1915-2012

Born on the banks of the Ohio, she helped on her dad’s farm, read prodigiously, and graduated early from high school.  After working in an Owensboro, KY, factory for 18 cents an hour, she saved $90, and went north to Indianapolis for college, receiving a 2-year teaching certificate.  In 1936 at the age of 21, she ventured from the green farmlands of Indiana to the sparse landscape of New Mexico, where she taught Hispanic and Native American children in the mission school in Velarde.  Later, back in Indiana, she continued her schooling, obtaining her Master’s Degree while teaching 2nd grade, and raising the 4 of us in the days before perma-press. She designed the house we moved into when I was in high school, and it is from her that I gained a sense of architectural space.

She sat each of us on the counter when we were about 2, and allowed us to dump in the flour when she was making cinnamon rolls, teaching us to savor and prepare good food.  We are now spoiled for having grown up eating fresh red raspberries, succulent tomatoes, and of course, her famous pies. Besides preserving the bounty of Dad’s garden, she also saved scraps of fabric, turning them into beautiful quilts. Though she did not consider herself an artist, it is because of her that I truly learned to see.  If I absorb the apricot and mauve of a sunset, recognize a plant by the shape of its leaf, or note the sculptural form of a face, it is because of her.

Her knowledge, her memory and her curiosity were prodigious.  At the age of 5, seeing a foldout of the Great Wall of China in National Geographic, she vowed to go there, and eventually she did. From both parents, I learned to welcome, not fear, strangers, especially if they came from a distant land or spoke with a melodic tongue. I read once that “There are only 2 things a parent can give a child: One is Roots; the other, Wings.” Mom and Dad gave me the roots, and taught me how to create my own wings.  It is because of them that I have the curiosity and strength to explore the world the way I do.

The photo above is from her 96th birthday party last summer in Indiana.

While I was in Indiana saying what I knew was my farewell to Mom, the hard drive of my computer failed. After being replaced, it became mysteriously corrupted, so I had to consult the Apple store in San Francisco, where I paused briefly en route to Mexico. The only option was to erase ALL date and photos so I could travel with a working (now virgin) computer. I was unnerved at having to make such a hasty decision. “OK,” I thought, “my contacts and interviews are backed up on my iPod.”  A mere 30 minutes later, I discovered that vandals had smashed the window of my rental car, stealing my travel bag containing clothes, the iPod, a new camera and my jewelry. I was still in shock when I arrived with a mass of other sun-seeking tourists at the airport in Puerto Vallarta.

I was greeted by my dear friends from my women’s writers group, who enveloped me like mother hens around a wounded chick. They fed me and took me in, while I continued my apartment search. Miraculously, Luis Meldoza (www.pvgeeks.com) helped restore the programs on my computer while Erica, Terra and Mary Ann restored me.

I recount this not as a tale of woe, but as a paean to friendship. Through the loss of my belongings and the transition of my mother, these cherished amigas have nurtured and sustained me. I am indeed blessed to be on the planet with such generous and talented people, and to have all of you in my worldwide network of friends. Like the Little Prince, I can look up in the sky and know that the same stars are twinkling down on you.

Take care of your special selves, follow your dreams, and express your love fully to those around you.

Abrazos y besos,

Elena