Music   

"My computer has been down and I can’t e-mail anyone so I’m calling you from at home in Beer-Sheva,” said Rachael.  “We’ll be arriving in Seattle on July 29^th and will stay with you and Rod until the first of August.  I’ll send you my itinerary later--not sure how or when, but I’ll get it there.  Oh, and by the way, we’re both allergic to dairy and soy, and we don’t eat much meat, but we’re big on vegetables.   Bye!”  And I sat there, completely stunned. 

We became acquainted with Rachael when her father Robert Davidow was alive and a member of the Elders list.  One day I received a message from him telling me that his daughter Rachael was living in the Seattle area and he needed help.  Could I, he asked, assist his daughter in getting on the local Freenet so that she could e-mail him instead of costing him a fortune in long distance charges every month?  I could and did, in the process of which we met Rachael in person and became friends. 

During our first meeting she told us she was pregnant by an American who refused to believe that he was the father and that she was planning on returning to her parents’ home in Israel to have the baby.  We suggested that if she wanted to pursue the matter she could have DNA testing done, but she told us that if he didn’t want to acknowledge the child as his she wanted nothing more to do with him.  So we gave her moral support and when she returned to Israel we stayed in touch by e-mail.  Not long afterwards we received word from her brother that her father had died of a heart attack; tragically, just a few weeks before her baby was born.  The baby was a little girl, and they named her Rahbie in memory of her father. 

Rahbi

Through the years we have stayed in touch by e-mail, and now and then   Rachael sent us pictures to show Rahbie’s progress.  They showed a chubby, intelligent baby, and then a lively  toddler and budding extrovert; always interesting and always curious.  This spring I received an e-mail saying that her brother Ari was getting married in Boston in July and that she, her mother (with whom they live) and Rahbie would be flying over for the wedding.  After the wedding, she said, she wanted to do some traveling in the States by train, and in the process visit friends and relatives here and there.  This was followed a bit later by another e-mail which said her mother had fallen and broken an ankle(!), but she was hoping it wouldn’t affect the trip.  Then, silence, until the sudden phone call in early June.

I was happy they could still make the trip, and happy that she would be in our area, but we had had no details of her trip nor of where,  when or with whom she would be visiting.  I was in a quandary.  Did she have other friends in Seattle she would be doing things with?  If so, did any of her friends have children who could entertain Rahbie?  If not, would Rahbie be interested in being around a couple of grandparent types with no other children in evidence?  No matter; they were coming, and we would cope.

We finally received an e-mail on July 17^th with Rachael’s final itinerary, and we began to make plans.  Monday the 29^th arrived; she called us about 1:00 PM just after their plane landed. Shuttle Express delivered them to our door about an hour later.  As they climbed down from the van, Rod heard Rachael say to the driver, “I don’t know anything about tipping here, what should I tip you?”  And the driver, laughing, answered, “No tip necessary, it was my pleasure having you as passengers!”  Rod said he could see all the remaining passengers smiling and waving at both of them. He told me later that Rachael said Rahbie had entertained everyone all the way from the airport (about 20 miles through heavy traffic) by singing and chattering the whole time.  That gave us a pretty good clue about what to expect from our visitors. 

From downstairs I hear laughing and talking and I come tearing up to find everyone arriving in the kitchen. Rachael, still dark-eyed and beautiful, and peering out from behind her mother’s embroidered orange slacks, a small, blond Jewish princess.  Rachael introduces us and then says, “Rahbie’s quite shy around strangers”.  I ask them if they are hungry and receive a very positive answer, because “we couldn’t eat the food on the plane and they didn’t have anything Rahbie liked, so we’re starving!”  And after a snack and a chance to stretch her legs, Rahbie apparently decides we aren’t so strange after all, because shortly she produces her Barbie and Ken dolls along with their clothes, and then proceeds to round up several of our stuffed animal collection to add to the mix, chattering all the while.

We discuss dinner; I say I need to shop for it because I’m wasn’t sure what they could eat.   Rachael promptly took over.  “We will have schnitzel”, she announces.

I say, “I’ve never made schnitzel.  I thought you didn’t eat much meat?”

To which she replies, “It is chicken schnitzel!  It is delicious!  You will see.  I will make it and you will love it!”

So we go shopping, and Rachael and Rahbie dictate what we should have melons and kiwis and apples and peaches and tomatoes and carrots and lettuce and corn (on the cob) and of course the chicken; “cut very thin to make a proper schnitzel”, said Rachael.  “And I will slice it to make it thinner; pounding it ruins the texture”.  I am beginning to get an inkling of what the next three days will be like, especially when Rahbie wails, “But I want a mango!”  Unfortunately they are out of mangos, the hour is growing late, Rachael and Rahbie are tired and getting hungry again.  Rahbie settles for a box of Popsicles. 

As we wait in the checkout line, Rahbie amuses herself by straightening all the candy bars in their display boxes, occasionally dumping them on the floor to get them back in properly.  A rather prim and proper senior citizen behind me in line nudges me and points; I disclaim ownership and she says, “Well!  I wouldn’t buy any candy from that display!”  I murmur that is wrapped, after all, and when Rachael notices her and objects, Rahbie says, “But it was messy!”

I have to marvel at this little girl as the days pass.  She had an eleven-hour flight from Israel to a completely strange new environment, had been on a dizzy round of wedding festivities for a week, and then gets back on a plane with her mother for another six-hour flight from Boston to Seattle with no food except crackers and still comes up smiling.  And except for an occasional understandable lapse, she continues smiling and happy their entire visit.

After dinner (yes, the chicken schnitzel, although somewhat unusual, is good), we take Rahbie to the nearby playground to let her stretch her legs before bedtime.  She stretches them to the limit, trying for the biggest rings, the highest slide, the hardest bars, and calling to Rachael for help when she can’t quite reach them.  By the time we walk back home, let them bathe and bring out the storybooks and more stuffed animals, both mother and daughter are more than ready for bed. 

Tuesday arrives, cloudy early on but clearing later (somewhat like our experiences).  We give Rahbie a choice of the Zoo or the Aquarium and she chooses the Aquarium, along with a ferry ride afterwards.  But first her mother has multiple errands to take care of, and when those are done I have to stop at the camera store for a battery because the weekend before my camera  decided to get peevish.  That done, I change batteries in the car outside the camera store, check it out….and it still doesn’t work.  Total panic.  I dash back inside and request help, and upon careful and experienced investigation it is determined that my much-loved Chinon Genesis has now become the Chinon Exodus. 

I am devastated.  My one chance in who-knows-how-long for some pictures of these two and the blasted camera chooses now to die on me.  It is too much.  When I can think logically again I remember that I said when this one died would be the time for me to get a digital.  Not the best of times to be making snap decisions and not exactly under ideal conditions; however, I am lucky; the salesman knows his stuff, he is not pushy, and he gives me exact information on each model so that I can make up my own mind.  I keep wishing I’d paid more attention to all the stats my son-in-law kept shoving at me……..too late for that.  I finally decide; he sets up the entire camera for me, gives me instructions on how to use it and I am back in business.  In the meantime, Rachael and Rahbie arrive back in the store to see what’s up, and Rahbie demands a camera of her own.  Rachael obliges.  However, she happens to be sitting on the counter next to me when my camera is being set up and she decides she needs one that shows “a little picture”, too.  Explanations by Rachael don’t help; she has been very good all morning while  being dragged around for grownups’ nonsense and she still isn’t at the Aquarium!  She vents her feelings quite strongly, and we pay instant attention. 

Fortunately we are not far from the Food Court at the mall, so we hastily transport our unhappy child to a new locale, stuff her little tummy, and all is well again.  We finally arrive at the Aquarium; I drop them off in the middle of a sea of tourists and park the car, feeding the meter with plenty of quarters.  When I get back to the Aquarium, they are still outside, and Rachael announces that it is getting much too late for a proper tour (which is true), and she thinks we should just take the ferry ride.  So we pile back into the car (someone is happy with prepaid parking!) and drive farther down the waterfront and park in a proper parking lot (less expensive in the long run!)..  We race to catch the current ferry, which just happens to be going to Bainbridge Island, and Rahbie is happy.  Dinner, of course, is late again, but my quick-time spaghetti proves to be a big hit, and our guests drop into bed early with the sleep of exhaustion.  So do I.

Wednesday Rachael and I decide this is Rahbie’s day.  She was a good sport about everything yesterday so we give her several choices, and this time she chooses the Butterfly World at the Science Center.  Good choice for everyone, since one admission gets you into the entire Center, where she wanders fascinated the entire morning.  And a bonus for me on Wednesdays seniors get in free!  Lunch is at Center House on the grounds,

which means only a short walk past the Space Needle to the Food Court, except for a small detour past the Whale’s Tail Waterfall where she and several other  children soak themselves down playing under the 

fins, and another stop at the face painting booth while she decides what design she’ll sport the rest of the day.  After lunch she decides she just has to see the Children’s Museum on the lower level.  She plays with cogs and wheels, explores global villages, dresses up in exotic clothes, “uncovers mummies” in sand boxes, crawls through enormous (fake) tree trunks, and has a generally wonderful time, and when we finally drag her out about 4:30 she is still going strong.

Uncovering Mummies	Fun Games

After a stop at the AAA for Rachael’s maps we crawl home through the usual commuter mess, and by mutual agreement decide to eat out.  We take them to our favorite Thai restaurant and both of them scarf it down as if it were their regular fare, even though Rachael says it is a first for them.  After Rachael tucks her tired daughter into bed she visits with us until she is falling asleep in her chair, but still doesn’t want to stop; “because,” she says, “I have no idea when I’ll get back here and want to take advantage of it.”

Thursday morning while I am drying my hair, Rahbie pops into our bathroom, as she has every morning they’ve been here, to chatter and ask questions, and this morning Rachael arrives ten minutes after her.  She says, “Do you know how comfortable my daughter feels in this house?  She’s down here every morning, and today she came down before she even came in to tell me good morning!”  So much for my worry about entertaining her.

We have to race to get the two of them to the rental car agency before noon she is driving to Pendleton, Oregon (a 300-mile drive over mountains) and needs to get moving.  However, we  discovered early on that Rachael’s conception of  time is rather different from ours, so we nearly always leave later and get back later than planned.  This time she insists on pictures in our garden and various other last-minute details, but we finally get them off after a near-nervous breakdown by Rachael; she is so worried about how everything in the car works she has both the agency clerk and me giving her instructions.  Quick hugs all around--the lady has a hug like a bear--and they are gone.  The house feels strangely large and empty when we get home.  Isn’t it amazing how one little girl and her mother can bring life and color to a place, and their departure can tug so much at your heartstrings!

Laurie

 Music

Most Taosenos start the Christmas season by putting up their decorations at the beginning of December.  Then -- each evening, as you drive through this small rural Northern New Mexican town-- you can watch the Christmas transformation take place as this community moves into a hope-filled season 

A common decoration --appearing most everywhere-- are the "farolitos"  (or little lanterns) which are homemade from small church candles carefully placed inside brown paper shopping bags. Each bag has a bottom layer of sand and the top has been rolled down so that it cannot collapse over the flame.  The making and maintenance of many farolitos is the job of the little ones guided by "El Abuelo" (the grandfather). 

These bags are then dispersed about 4 ft apart along drive and walk ways and atop roof edges.  The businesses round the "Taos Plaza" (town square) do an exceptional job here and the only lights you see are the farolitos and the hanging electric Christmas lights.  It is a colorful picture as you approach the center of the Plaza from any direction.

These simple Christmas decorations are enhanced by our adobe architecture which has been described as one cube stacked on top of another with each building separated by rounded organic walls -- all made out of mud and straw bricks (called "adobes").  If you have seen pictures of typical mid-eastern mud villages then you can begin to "see" Taos with your minds-eye.

Scattered around our Taos valley are a number of small Catholic chapels called "Capillas" (say "Ka-pee-ahs" by pronouncing the double-L, ("..ll..") as a long-e) These little Hispanic churches  were built early on to provide a place for religious worship. Then .. was a time when it was difficult to walk or ride a horse to get into Taos -- while fighting off sudden changes in the weather or sudden Indian raids.   These Capillas also represent a common Hispanic heritage belonging to a cluster of isolated families joined together to form a community of mutual support.  Each felt the loss of their family, their homeland, and friends --a continent and ocean away in a distant place called, Spain.  Today we simply get into our car and drive a few minutes to go to any one of these small chapels for mass.  

Each Capilla is still lovingly cared for by the descendants of those families that dug the first ditches to water the fields, raised cows to feed their hungry mouths and had babies to do it all over again. The only difference, now, is that, those once large tracks of land (Spanish Land Grants) surrounding the Capilla have been subdivided into small home-lets and the priest that once lived with them .. now only comes once a month to say  mass, hear confessions, and baptize their newly minted babies in their little Capilla.

But we are talking about Christmas time and the Capilla also serves as a prayerful "way station" along a route taken by weary walkers who participate in a serious pageant called "Los Posadas" which celebrates the 12 days before Christmas.  During these events "Los Pastores" (people dressed as Shepherds and rural folk) form a nightly procession lead by a young women carrying the "Nacimiento" (a small figure representing the baby Jesus --hidden under cloth since Santo Nino has yet been born).

Los Pastores are going to see the birth of this great child they have all heard about. The path is dark and cold but along the foot-route, families have built little fires to mark the way.  These fires are called "luminarias" and they are built in the form of a cube -- that is, an opened box-like stack of pinon logs, each about 2 feet high and wide with one log laid atop another.  These fires will burn brightly and quickly and they will be fed by youngsters while their Elders stand by discussing the best way to  build and maintain a "proper" fire -- as taught too them by their Pa-Pa Grande.

The route of these travelers is designed to be long but to pass the time, these pilgrims pray, sing songs and perhaps tell stories as they walk from house to house "looking" for a place to rest and sleep .. 

But all is not well .. at each door they are shouted away by the "Patron" of the house (and giggling children) , "No .. No .. We have no place for you, here .. go away!" as they slam the door -- each rejection more loud and more elaborate than the last.

 (btw .. did I mention the giggling kids?)