by Richard L. Thornton, Architect & City Planner
Estados Unidos Mexicanos ~ 1970-1974
One Summer In Mexico – Part 24
Interweaving my personal and social activities in Mexico, while simultaneously studying over a hundred ancient cities may “seem off the wall” to some or many readers, but it was really as much a part of my education as the architectural studies. Unfortunately, the interpersonal lessons taught me didn’t sink in to long after I had chosen the wrong woman to live with and then failed to immediately get out of a toxic relationship.
In some previous articles, I had to walk a tight rope between the standards set for educational websites for the general public and events that actually happened in Mexico. First of all, you have to understand that most Creeks just don’t have the sexual hang-ups that Middle Eastern religions have burdened the world with. We had traditionally seen no connection between sexuality and our solid faith in the Master of Life. Sexuality is part of life and a gift from the Master of Life . . . not a means to control people or keep women enslaved as it was back in those sepia-tinted days long ago in Mexico.
What does govern relations between lovers is the Golden Rule – “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Among Creek men, we are expected to show the woman at our side the same respect as we do our mothers, sisters and female cousins. BUT . . . when is the last time that you read of a Creek Keeper (religious leader) being charged with molesting a child? Never!
If you have read my book, Itsapa . . . the Itza Mayas in North America, you will recall that in 2004, some Georgia Bureau of Investigation cops used your tax money to hire a high-priced call girl from Savannah to impersonate an Art Professor at Georgia Southern University. I am not sure what was in their sick little minds . . . maybe they wanted to prove that I was immoral or something? Obviously, the United States needs to make mental health exams and polygraph tests a requirement of wearing a badge and carrying a gun.
At any rate, she showed up at my house in Jasper, GA in a rented sports car and was gorgeous – mixed Latina, Native American and French from Caribbean Basin. It was easy for me to pretend that she was Alicia. That night in my bedroom, she announced that she was a prostitute, but all costs were being covered. She pulled out a health certificate. I just thought, “America, what a country. Don’t kick a gift horse in the mouth.” Sorry, there was no guilt at all.
I treated her as a human being and a friend. It blew her mind. She couldn’t understand why they hired her, since I was not wealthy, not married or living with a female criminal. They usually hired her to get intel on mega-wealthy drug dealers or crooked state contractors. I periodically gave gentle PDA just like I would have Alicia. Normally, she didn’t allow men to kiss her, but she soon started asking to kiss me. We did things like visit water falls, hiking mountain trails and eating at inexpensive country style restaurants. She started crying when I took her canoeing on Carters Lake in the Cohutta Mountain Wilderness. She said no man had ever taken her canoeing before.
She eventually told me that she had a Masters in Art History from a French university (hence the reason that she fooled me into thinking that she was professor) . . . had been in the Miss Universe pageant and had been briefly married to a very wealthy man. She left him because he treated like a slave. Her professional work generally involved accompanying married men on yachts and private jets to overseas vacations.
With me, she was the most honest woman that I had met in that decade . . . other than she would never tell me her real name. I had nothing to hide. Very quickly, the honesty was turning into genuine affection – the first step to love. She had decided by Sunday afternoon to spend another week with me (free). However, on Monday morning, she changed her mind and headed down the road to Savannah. I never heard from her again. Nevertheless, that total honesty could have become a permanent love, if she had not desired the acquisition of wealth more than love.
A major shift in the pace of my travels
The last week in July 1970 marked a major shift in my study activities. That is when I began leaving on explorations, lasting several days, thus spending most of my nights in hotel rooms, not the Soto House. Be prepared, we will be visiting sites around Mesoamerica, fast and furious. I also made contact with three pro-Democracy Maya insurgent groups that evolved into the Zapatistas. However, last week I was asked to not discuss that, even though my 20-year period of non-disclosure has expired. The reason is that some of Naval Intelligence assets are still down there.
You will not be hearing about Alicia nearly as much, but that is because our relationship had elevated to one of total honesty and true love. It was so natural, comfortable . . . well, beautiful. At the negotiations for the Treaty of Indios Verdes, we both had been totally honest in expressing our emotional and physical needs. She admitted that becoming pregnant at age 19 – almost 20 – would be disastrous for her educational and personal development. She no longer felt threatened by my ex-girlfriends and wanted me to get her out of Mexico, ASAP.
The lesson learned from Mexico, which I foolishly ignored five years later, was that if you start a relationship . . . even the first date . . . based on lies, you are dooming yourself to misery and maybe even personal catastrophe. Forty-eight hours after our wedding in August 1974, while sitting on the front lawn of the Soto house, I learned that (1) my new wife didn’t love me at all, and (2) Alicia was back in Mexico, single, totally independent of her family and loved me more than ever.
I did nothing, thinking that things would get better in my marriage. The deceptions never stopped. I now have a nylon mesh in my abdomen and 110 stitched holes in my colon, to pay for that stupid exercise in self-righteousness.