The Second and Only Part

The state of Bahia is bigger than Texas. The cobbled streets near our house were steep. There was an elevator, Lacerda, built from the cidade alta to the cidade baixa (upper and lower city). It was like a construction project in progress jutting boldly--streamlined, modern, a rival to Rio's more famous protective Cristo with outstretched arms. I doubt that I rode the elevator or sailed on the bay. I was content to nest and sing in our beautiful house. I was given the name Christine by my father who had seen Greta Garbo in a talkie playing Queen Christina of Sweden. My godmother didn't like it. She had a silver baby cup inscribed for me, "Irene" and wouldn't change it. How did I get a godmother when my parents were agnostics? Leo Wrench, married to Big Bob Wrench, was a friend and influential. Leo didn't like the name Della (my mother's name) so Della was changed arbitrarily to Judy, which stuck for forty years. My parents were also good friends with the British consul, a Catholic. Within a month of my birth, I was christened Christine. The certificate is elaborately embellished. The christening dress could fit a small animal. It's curious that the agnostics branded me with a destiny--follower of Christ. The Hindus say the awaiting soul chooses its parents. I can see it. I can see me also choosing that house in that place. The house was stone and, strangely for a South American house, had a large fireplace. It was a lesson in contrasts. There is a picture of me in front of the wintery fireplace dressed in summery batiste with my favorite object, a flyswatter. No blanket or doll for me. Judy said the bathrooms were like Grand Central station. I laid claim to the garden and my mosquito netted nook where I could hear the birds. I was carried about by the cook and her assistants, Alma and Zsa Zsa. My world consisted of music, rice, my necklace, and my flyswatter. My brother's existence was opposite to mine as he was going to a German school where he tackled his work dervishly and was first in his class by the end of the year.He spoke German and English. I spoke Portuguese in a waterfall sort of way. He was busy and accomplished. Our encounters were friendly but we were already on differing paths. I preferred to sing all day and sew. Except for the times I almost died (of a fishbone stuck in my throat, a tropical fever going too high) my days were pleasant. My observational skills were honed by visiting dignitaries. My mother thought it significant that Walt Disney was one of them. The Magic Kingdom coming to me.  .

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Writing about the past I find brings too many chapters to mind. I like, instead, the daily outing adventures accounts. For instance, here is a message from 2007 in San Francisco:

As I was coming down the stairs, I heard a powerful voice singing, "Bringing in the Sheaves." A huge black man was singing and I was awestruck by the beauty. The noon crowd of San Franciscans and tourists was rushing by, hardly noticing. On a whim, I asked him if he knew, "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms." He was startled by this person barely reaching his elbow in height but said, "Sure!" I said I wanted to sing along. The acoustics were phenomenal and our voices were perfectly matched. Next we sang, "Blessed Assurance," "I Love to Tell the Story," and "Showers of Blessings." At that point, however, he stopped to offer a prayer. He was all teary-eyed thanking Jesus for the "little lady helping me out today." Well, that made my knees wobble so I told him I could only sing one more song. "We finished with "Beulah Land." I don't think I have ever sung so well. No one gave us change; on the other hand, no one pointed out the political incorrectness. I was grateful for free speech and assembly! When I walked on to put my Fast Pass in the machine a few feet further, the regular ticket taker stared at me as though I were the 10th wonder of the world. For those of you of different faiths or no faith at all, read this as an account of a moment (for me, unforgettable) of community & happiness in "The City by the Bay." 

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So. You have a little flavor here of what my life has been. The rest can be gleaned by piecing together the messages and quotes. Thus has begun and ended the memoir of long ago days and foreign fields.