After Claire’s Wedding, Here I Am in Mexico!

 Dear Joanie,

     I left Birmingham at 4 o’clock Sunday morning, March the 12th. Coco took me to the airport, and I got on a plane, first to Houston, and then to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. But that was not the end of my trip. When I landed in Puerto Vallarta, a car took me to the Puerto Magico, where I waited for a little boat to take me to Xinalani, which is where I’ve been for almost a week and where, now, I’m getting ready to return to Boulder.

     This is the view from my room:

I have had almost a full week of dancing NIA and practicing yoga, and reuniting with friends, some of whom I haven’t see since the COVID-19 shutdown. 

     My days have gone like this: I wake up at 7am, and head down to the restaurant, where I get coffee and head right back to my room. That trip alone involves 8 flights of stairs, a “flight” consisting of  about 16 steps. No elevators here at Xinalani, where the landscape is either beach or jungle on the side of a cliff. I spend a lot of time going up and down stairs. I drink my morning coffee in bed, as I wake up to the sound of the surf, looking out on the view in the picture. 

     Then I put on my dancing/yoga tights, climb even higher on this cliff, to the “Jungle Studio,” for dance. That lasts about an hour and a half—just in time for breakfast at 10am. The jungle studio is open air for three walls. The restaurant is also open air. It gets hot here, but we feel the ocean breezes all day long. 

     Right now, I’m watching a little boat approach the shore to let off passengers. Just as I did, those passengers will need to take off their shoes and roll up their jeans and slip over the side of the boat to wade ashore. Strong young men pull the boat closer to shore, but it’s wading nonetheless. Those same strong young men collect the luggage, hoisting it over their shoulders, and guide the guests through the sand, up about three flights of stairs, to check in. 

     But back to my day. I get some yogurt, fruit, and granola; toast some bread; and get the good, strong coffee and sit down with the other dancers, about 25 of us, mostly from the states, but some also from abroad. They are an amazing group of women, all great lovers of dance, many of whom are teachers. I am by far the oldest in the group (at age 83), but there is a woman here in her 70s. Then, the rest are in their 60s and below. 

    On days like today, lunch is at 2:30. We meet again at 5:30 for dance or yoga, and then dinner, which tonight will be on the beach, is at 7:30pm. Fridays are special at Xinalani, with dinner on the beach, featuring the best of Mexican food, including tortillas made on the spot. Tonight there will also be salsa dancing in the bar. I’ll probably skip that.

    Tomorrow, I wade back to the boat, that will take me and others back to Puerto Vallarta, where most of us will head home. All the time I’ve been gone, Shelby has been boarded at Cottonwood Kennels and Your Great-Aunt Julie has been staying with Dougie. I hear everyday that they are “fine.” But now I’m getting really homesick to see them.

    You belong to a family of beach people, Joanie, and at your young age, you’ve spent time on beaches as well. Since I was a little girl, I have spent much, much time on the Gulf Of Mexico, and, as an adult, I’ve been to beaches in California, Oregon, Washington, Florida, all along the East Coast, as well as in England, Scotland, Ireland, and Italy. And France. Also Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, and, lastly, Viet Nam. The ocean and the beach calm our souls,  I think I may write a separate chapter on beaches, Joanie.

     But for now, it’s almost 2:30, and that means lunch. So I’m going four flights of stairs down to get a fresh green salad with, I hope, mangos.

Love,

GG Katie

Claire Gets Married, and I Get to See You, Your Mom and Dad, Coco, and Claire’s Family.

Dear Joanie,

    What a grand reunion we had in Birmingham, Alabama, celebrating the wedding of my sister Karol’s granddaughter Claire Leonard and Ryan Meeks, a joyous family occasion. I loved seeing you, your dad, your mom (who is expecting your baby brother in only a few months now), Coco, your grandmother, and the whole Gammill family.  We had parties and luncheons and the wedding itself . You and Coco and I walked on a blustery spring day in Birmingham to a restaurant where we wanted to have breakfast, but, alas, it didn't open till 11am, so we walked back to the Elyton Hotel and found the restaurant there. I believe you had waffles. Your mom and dad joined us. 

    I think Birmingham is a beautiful city. It is lush with greenery and the botanic gardens spread out over acres and acres are inviting. If I lived in Birmingham, I'd go there every day. Birmingham was also the center of the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s. (Yes, this is GG Katie writing, and it is SO important to me that you know about our country's history, especially the time period when I was growing up and also when I was a young mother.  )I remember Birmingham and the Civil Rights movement really, really well.  And so does Birmingham. On a Friday afternoon while everyone was at rehearsal or shopping or resting, I took a walk around the city and was met with placard after placard commemorating individuals and events during that period. Please, Joanie, when you are older, make sure you know about Birmingham. I'm so uncertain what you will be taught in school. 

    As for the wedding. You were the flower girl, and you looked beautiful in your pink dress with a satin waistline and in  your white Mary Jane shoes, and your pretty brown hair pulled back with a silken bow. 

        

Joanie, the Flower Girl

To be frank, you were a reluctant flower girl from the beginning, but I thought you pulled it off beautifully. You wanted your dad to walk down the aisle with you as you spread rose petals from the little white basket you carried. That was a perfectly legitimate request, and he was happy to do it. You made quite the pair, you handsome and debonair father holding your hand as you walked together down the aisle while about 300 people turned their heads to watch you. 

    You were just fine until you saw your mother. And then you ran to her and jumped in her lap and your world was all secure. Everyone smiled and all was well. There will be a video of that moment somewhere.

    That brings me to another wedding, when your Great Grandpa Dougie and I got married, June 22, 1991 in St. Aidan's Episcopal Church, in Boulder, Colorado, where we live now. Coco and your mother were part of that wedding, along with your Great Aunt Julie. Your mother, our Brettable, was quite excited to be part of the wedding party, and all was well, even walking down the aisle together. I'm not really certain what happened because all was well as the whole family stood at the altar to hear the opening vows, but when we all sat down to hear the readings, I glanced over at your mother, age 5 years old, and her face was all crumpled up and tears were running down her cheeks. We spent some time comforting her. She recovered well and managed to have a good time, as you can see in this picture of her and Coco.

Brett O'brien, 5, with Catherine (Coco)

You will want to note her crumpled up dress in her hands, and her torn tights with her knee sticking out. A really cute picture that I love, but not quite so elegant as the one of you, you'll agree.

Love,

GG Katie