by Dr. David Fialk, Editor / Publisher
Art by Robert C. Murray II

Even my potbelly is small. I am an ectomorph, which is to say, very thin. My bones are slight, and, no matter how much weight I lift, my muscles are little. People don't notice this about me, because I have an enormous head.

I used this head/body incongruity, to fool a carnival barker, a man who was guessing people's weight at a county fair. I stepped right up and paid my quarter, presenting myself silently in front of the carnie and his attentive crowd of onlookers. After a few seconds of inspection, he gave his guess. When I stepped up on the scale, and he saw that he was 20lbs off, oblivious to his audience and the children therein, he exclaimed, "Shit!" He was disappointed in himself, thinking that maybe it was time for him to go back to running the ring-toss. Having out-carnied the carnie, my daughter picked out her prize and we strolled on.

My surface area to mass ratio renders me more susceptible to heat, which, here in Mexico, leaves my long pants hanging lonely in my closet. Except for some mornings and evenings during the winter, I'm in shorts. Showing up in shorts to synagogue or to a business meeting is a faux pas on either side of the border. But when you're traveling by bicycle, as I do, there's no other way to roll, at least not mid-day.

If I do have to go out and pedal around while the sun is high, I wet my tee-shirt first. They call it evaporative cooling. I call it my own personal air conditioning unit. They know me at the car wash at the bottom of calle 28 de Abril, as I regularly stop there to wet my shirt before climbing the last hill home.

Then, just to show you how delicate I am, if I wear a dark shirt out in the sun, because it absorbs more sun, I suffer. Mostly I go around in a simple white undershirt. Except that now, with my increased stature in the community, I've had to up my game. I do have more stylish white tee-shirts with designs. But I'm in the market for other, more presentable light-colored tops.

With this in mind, after a noon-time meeting, in one of my stylish white tees, pedaling along the Calzada de la Estación, I stopped at the second store, right next to the big empty lot. (I don't mind telling you about it, because you probably are not my size, and probably aren't in the market for light-colored tee-shirts, anyway.)

A short while later, with three purchases (I couldn't resist the red button-down; it's my power color) I continued on my way to another meeting with a man, Robert Charles Murray II, who lives up the hill a bit from the statue of the Saint Michael Slaying the Dragon.

It's said that you can't be too rich, too thin or too smart. We can ask the children of Hollywood stars about being too rich. I myself, explaining why gringos are as we are, say to my Mexican acquaintances, "After a little tequila you dance better, but too much makes you sloppy. You can also have too much food or [dropping my voice to a whisper] sex. So too, too much money hardens your heart."

You don't have to invoke anorexia to show that there are problems with being too thin. I eat like a horse and can witness to those. And the man I was riding uphill to visit can provide us all with lessons about being too smart.

Robert C. Murray II is a genius. In fact, he's a super genius. He's also a super artist, having won various national prizes, including Mexico's for watercolor. (See the article.) His paintings, regularly utilizing over 50 pigments and 250,000 brush strokes each, are hyper-realistic, capturing all the nuance of a lichen-covered stone, light passing through the leaves of a poplar forest, a sun-drenched cluster of grapes, the whorl of a rose...

But for all his smarts, or because of them, Robert has a hard time socializing (which is a problem when you're trying to sell your paintings). The same hyper-sensibility that makes his art so wonderful, is a handicap when it comes to making people comfortable. Speaking with him is like a ride at the county fair; it's a thrilling experience, but you're a bit relieved when it's over.

The quick turns, the forward and backs, the loopty-loops, the house of mirrors of his prodigious intelligence become too much for the casual visitor, and we suspect, even for him. Ah, but when his vision becomes focused, as it does in his watercolors (or works in wood) the effects are amazing. It is our loss that we are not as patient as his watercolor paper.

That day was my third visit with Robert. His brilliancy keeps jumping the tracks, but I keep buying tickets to get back on the ride. After two hours, emerging from his lair (art studio, woodshop and apartment), saying my goodbyes astride my bicycle out front, the world was differently illuminated, or rather, my vision of it had changed. The bricks and cobbles reflected and absorbed light in new ways. The sunshine in the leaves was more alive. Rolling down the hill, I felt both relieved and blessed.

See Robert's website

**************

Dr. David presents Lokkal, the social network, the prettiest, most-efficient way to see San Miguel online. Our Wall shows it all. Join and add your point of view.

Discover Lokkal:
Watch the two-minute video below.
Then, just below that, scroll down SMA's Community Wall.
Mission

Visit SMA's Social Network

Contact / Contactar