photos: Nancy Mazur
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by Dr. David Fialkoff, Editor / Publisher

Time is funny. Physicists do not understand why we never see time running backwards. Past, present and future seem to be multi-simultaneous, all happening at once, at the same... time.

Nostalgic with the best of them, I've often tried to picture San Miguel 40 or 80 years ago. During Covid, riding my bicycle up Hernandez Macias (between Pila Seca and Umarán) with no traffic; no cars rolling down the street, no people on the sidewalk, I traveled back in time. At least, I had a vision. I got a glimpse of how it used to be: really quiet. That yesteryear was a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.

Every April in San Miguel, as high season ends the same regression happens in a small way. During the last week of March, there is a mass exodus of people who have been renting. Then, over the month of April, people who have another home somewhere else go there. And, also, lots of residents go off on vacation.

San Miguel in May and June, hot and dry, always puts me in mind of a Bob Dylan line, "Anyone with any sense had already left town" (Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts).

A couple of Saturdays ago, at the last Fábrica la Aurora Art Walk (which was slow) I heard Jorge of Alquimia Galería speaking with the owner of Café Ventana about how the depopulation of our city this end-of-season has been more dramatic than in years past. Things are very slow.

As a calendar maker, I'm in a different line of business. I don't count people. I count events. Before the pandemic, during the high season (January, February, March), my Friday newsletter, listing events for next ten days (f-s-su-m-t-w-th-f-s-su), regularly included 70 or 80 events, and at the height of the height even approached 90.

This high season, now publishing for 14 days, the newsletter stayed between 45 and 60 event listings, once topping out at 63. And, by my measure, April has fallen off a cliff. However, I'm enjoying the break.

When introduced to me as the publisher of Lokkal/San Miguel Sunday, the former writer for the New York Times sent me over the moon when he remarked "You've got good content." Somewhat like Picasso telling you that he likes your drawing, I don't think that I even managed a "thank you" before he asked, "How do you do it?" Without thinking or missing a beat, I replied, "I'm working myself to death." "I believe it," he knowingly commiserated.

I may not be working myself to death, but, back in February I did make myself good and sick. I was away from home. Dog-sitting, somewhat imbalanced, operating the machine outside of specification I caught a cold.

I should have driven home and got the homeopathic remedies I needed, but my colds usually pass quickly. I should have started juicing oranges sooner, but I didn't and it got bad. At that point, I came pretty close to actually haven worked myself to death. Here's what happened.

My post nasal drip was a horrendous, ample stream flowing down my throat. One evening, that mucous bonded with a bite of dinner I stopped in mid-swallow shutting off my airway.

When I aspire some saliva I know enough to invert my torso to let gravity help me cough it out. This I did that evening, not touching my toes, not performing a headstand, but inclining, going down on my elbows and knees.

But I couldn't cough. For what seemed like a long time, but was probably only 5-7 seconds, I couldn't breath. Then, I could get a little air in, maybe 5% of normal, but I couldn't exhale. Drooling onto the floor, I noted that I wasn't blacking out. Soon 5% became 10% and I was able to breathe out, and cough. Then 10% became 20% and although it took a while to fully clear my airway, my close call was over.

There, breathless, kneeling on the terracota tiles, I had a chance to think about dying. There are a lot of reasons (the major ones not at all selfish) that I would like to keep living. But if it were just a question of lying down on the kitchen floor while everything went black...

Call me morbid, but regularly, at day's end, comfortably tucked into bed, reaching over to turn out the light, I think, "If dying is like this, I'm not worried."

By my measure, considering the number of events, this high season was busier than any since the pandemic. Even with the government taxing events like never before (including quinceaneras, Sweet Fifteen parties), from a calendar maker's point of view, San Miguel is slowly coming back.

Meanwhile, I'm still working hard, already making good use of the already low season. There are some very talented people joining Team Lokkal, all of whom need to be brought up to speed. And we have some great things in development. I don't like counting unhatched chickens, but stay tuned. We'll give them something to talk about.

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Dr. David Fialkoff presents Lokkal, our local social network, the community online and off, Atención robustly reborn for the digital age. If you can, please do contribute content, or your hard-earned cash, to support Lokkal, SMA's Voice. Use the orange, Paypal donate button below. Thank you.

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