Apparently we’ve had some weather in Mexico Beach.
Our house is standing, but it is battered and bruised. I like to think Chez Martinez whispered to Hurricane Michael, do your worst and then laughed in his face when he rolled out of town like a bully punched in the mouth.
Chez Martinez is a cultured badass.
At times it has been overwhelming. At times it has been inspiring. I always wondered what the Red Cross does with all the $10 texts and now I know. They feed us. They provide household necessities to us. They say yes anytime we ask for help of any kind. And they do it with a smile.
I have also been thinking a lot about a song.
I live in the deep south and, while this city has actually voted pretty progressively, we are still Trump country. But none of that has mattered. Hippies (yes, we have a few), blacks, whites, gays, Trumpsters… all of us have asked only one thing of each other: how can I help? Hell, I went from being the only Mexican in Mexico Beach to being the only Mexican who doesn’t speak Spanish. Nobody has asked if they are here legally, nobody has told them to speak English, everybody has simply said thank you and offered them food, water and, an extended hand.
This is the America I have always known. This is the America that has always been great. This is precisely why America will always be great.
In the midst of all of this kindness and parking of political bullshit I keep hearing Frank sing to me…
Take a breath
Try these for size
I don’t know
I’ve changed my mind
There is something good in us all. I wish more than anything it didn’t take a tragedy like a natural bomb to bring it out in us.
I love you, awesome nerds.
