Some of the ears are bursting.
A white juice works inside.
Cornsilk creeps in the end and dangles in the wind.
Always–I never knew it any other way–
The wind and the corn talk things over together.
And the rain and the corn and the sun and the corn
Talk things over together.
Carl Sandburg, Laughing Corn
The Holy Cross of the Valle of Corn was celebrated for much of the week with public dances, a parade, music, and private events. One could hear fireworks for most of this weekend; one morning, beginning between 5:30 and 6:00, the fireworks continued for about an hour.
The cross in the church in the Valle del Maíz is stone, reflecting pre-Christian traditions. The Valle del Maíz is a barrio in San Miguel that lies on the hill between Allende/Guadiana (where I live) and the road that leads to Querétaro. The area has been inhabited since before the founding of San Miguel as a village; Otomi, Chichimeca and blacks lived there and many living there today are descendants of previous inhabitants.
In the parade that started in the Valle and that found its way around the Jardin, one group was dressed in indigenous and Spanish military clothing and danced in mock-battle; I suppose their dance represents the conquering of the native peoples by the Spanish as well as the bringing of Christ and a promise of ever-lasting life.
The High School Reunion
Last week one of the television true-crime shows told the story of the murder of two wealthy brothers connected to my home town – one was murdered in Hong Kong and the other in Greenwich sometime earlier in this century. I also reconnected with a niece and a nephew recently, one of whom still lives in the area. So, almost until the very end there were reminders and enticements to go. A former classmate wrote and asked if I was sad to not attend and I wasn’t. During the past week I did listen to music from that era, however.