GARGOZO MANUSCRIPT

Where the hell did they go?  Since the beginning of summer they've visited our kitchen sink every morning and now, a solid week with not a single ant.  Some mornings it was just a couple of scouts checking to see what scraps awaited them in the bottom of the sink.  Other times there'd be a full battalion streaking back and forth between the bottom of the kitchen window and something tasty left on a plate. I am surprised I didn't catch on sooner as finding the ants in the sink was built into the morning regimen: 1.  Make coffee with the Italian creamer that we managed to do with out for the first 47 years  of marriage but is now mandatory. 2.  Do I have the energy to make eggs? 3.  We are out of eggs, so toast it is. 4.  Are we out of bread? 5.  Or how about those little dutch rolls with the raisins that cost an arm and a leg?  6.  Go to sink to wash cups for coffee. 7.  What is that? 8.  Go to bedroom, put ...

Part I On arrival, our small bus was immediately mobbed by a hundred smiling, waving, shouting, laughing kids.  They were aged 5 to 9 and formed small groups to greet, surround, hug and escort each of us coming off the bus into the building, all the while continuing to laugh, smile and shout.  It was eerily similar to the scene in  Close Encounters of the Third Kind , where Richard Dreyfuss is ushered up the ramp and into the spaceship by a covey of waist-high aliens. I had made my way to a little village called San Martin Chiquito via a 5 hour drive from Guatemala City.  There are countless similar remote villages throughout Guatemala, all lacking infrastructure, decent housing, healthcare, employment, education and water that is safe to drink.  Many of the rural poor are descendants of ancient civilizations such as the Mayans, and communicate exclusively in one of the 23 dialects spoken in the country.   Once you move outside the capital or tou...

Last night I went to a fundraiser in Pasadena put on by a non-profit meals on wheels organization. Yes, you read that correctly.  What the hell would a borderline primate such as myself be doing at this type of affair?  For me, social situations have always been limited to 2 or 3 times a decade when Michael drags me along with him to an event held in the desert or an industrial park, where a horde of unconventional characters exhibit bizarre substance-induced behavior.  I quite enjoy these outings since I am completely inconspicuous in the wake of the outrageous goings on. Even if I do make a fool of myself there's little chance that anyone, including myself will be able to recall much of what went on the following day. Last night's fundraiser brought together roughly 80-90 elder care physicians and administrators into a compact interior courtyard where wine, cheese and soft live music was provided.  A classic combination of factors that would ordina...

Photo by Amy Darling Part II Normally when I am asked to go to a play my immediate response is, “Couldn’t hear you, what was that again?”  This allows me to conjure up as many excuses as possible while the question is repeated and at the end of which I can say, “Thursday night...aw shit, that’s the night I’m having my feet removed.” Michael assured me that this play was different, so I went, and he was right.  In fact, the word “play” in the traditional sense doesn’t apply.   Rather than force a label on it, I’ll just say, “ya kinda had to be there.” Despite the show being sold out the cast nearly outnumbered the audience.  The show takes its structure from a runaway train accompanied by vignettes where permanent cast members take turns losing their grip on reality.  Sandwiched between these displays are some walk-on acts that range from disassembling a Big Mac atop a rotating umbrella, to revealing the origin of the universe.  The walk...