CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
After a while, when I was recovered from my accident and getting back into the groove at work, Barbara and I reunited. This meant another change, of course. She decided that, for financial reasons, we needed to move to Sonora, a small, historic town about three hours northeast of Monterey. Her mother lived there and managed a small, historic hotel.
A big part of me wanted to stay in the Monterey area. After all, the only people I knew in America lived there. My job was there. I would have to start all over again. Moving represented change, upheaval, potential chaos. Still, I had to admit Barbara was right. Monterey was an expensive place to live, and it had become very difficult for me to afford it on a grocery bagger’s pay. So I agreed and moved with her to Sonora.
Barbara’s mom, Peggy, was a modest, exuberant woman in her sixties with long, gray hair. Women who have moved on to living their own lives, with their adult children gone away, often blossom in remarkable ways; they seem to enjoy life to a degree that surprises even themselves. Peggy enjoyed her alcohol and cigarettes, a good conversation, and country music. She introduced me to the songs of the Bellamy Brothers, Merle Haggard, the Gatlin Brothers, Lefty Frizzell, and many other older country classics. I still remember the night when she told me the story behind Frizzell’s song “The Long Black Veil,” which touched me deeply.
My mom and I had enjoyed listening to country music occasionally back home, but I became a lot more familiar with it during my time in Sonora. Peggy also taught me about the pleasures of cheap, good red wine, line dancing, and pigs’ feet.
I had pigs’ feet for the first time when I lived with Peggy. Although I was very adventurous when it came to trying different foods, I had never imagined that people would eat such a thing. Having been raised around many Muslims and some Jewish neighbors, none of whom ate pork at all, it wasn’t a big part of my diet as a child. I don’t think I will ever get that taste out of my memory. I remember her slow cooking the pigs’ feet for many hours. The recipe had a vinegary taste to it, which I loved, and it was one of the most delicious foods I have ever tasted to this day.
Peggy had a little brown Chihuahua she adored named Taco. She had moved to Sonora from Carmel, where her mother had been an acquaintance of Clint Eastwood. I believe Eastwood had purchased some land from Peggy’s mother. Peggy had a picture on one of her shelves of her mother and Clint together at a dinner. Peggy’s mom, Barbara’s grandmother, appeared very elegant to me, like a member of the royal family in that photo. I loved listening to the stories Peggy told about Eastwood while staring at that photo, sipping wine, and listening to some of the greatest country songs ever written.
Although Peggy was skeptical of me at first — who was this young immigrant man, married to her daughter? — she seemed to enjoy my company, once she got to know and trust me. I certainly enjoyed hers; she took great pleasure in life and was a lot of fun to be around. I found that there was a lot I could learn from her, a smart woman who had made her own way in the world. She often talked about the threats posed by the wildfires and the droughts Sonora, as well as the broader state of California, faced, which I had a difficult time wrapping my young immigrant’s mind around.
Peggy took me to some local bars downtown, where she taught me some country line dancing steps. She had a black and gray Mazda MR2 sports car, which she even let me drive a couple of times. We also went to the annual Sonora fair, which seemed like a huge event to me, with row upon row of food vendors and games, as well as rodeos, carnival rides, and agricultural and livestock exhibitions.
We formed a good friendship during the span of about a year, while she was giving Barbara and me a place to stay in her modest home, which was built in the 1950s. She played a big role in my young immigrant days, sheltering Barbara and me in her home and giving me general advice. Her putting her trust in me meant the world to me at the time, and I don’t think I would be where I am today without her help.
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