"ON THE ROAD WITH JUDY!"

                       "300 ORPHANS, A PRIEST

                           AN EYELASH CURLER

                                      & ME!!"

          

                                          by Judy Jones

                           mybeautifulmusic@gmail.com

 

Tossing my eyelash curler into my

backpack along with some watercolors,

 paintbrushes, swim suit and goggles,

I'm on the road oncemore! (You never

know when you might find a lap pool)

 

Thank goodness I won't have to put up

a tent after hiking 20 miles like I did

while writing articles for The Coronado 

Journal when I was on The Great Peace

 March for Nuclear Disarmament.

 

In blizzards, rain, hail and heatwaves,

up went the tent. Amazing since my

biggest adventure so far had been

curling my lashes and going to

shopping malls! My motto became,

 "forget peace, just help this woman

get this tent up so she can sleep!"

 

Even with the 150-300 orphans,

Father Antonio Norman at Santa

Maria Orphanage always has an

extra bed. After flying to Mexico

City, jumping on the metro and

taking two buses, 10 hours later I

was on his doorstep and ever so

 grateful for his spare bed!

 

After several massive heart attacks, 

he is still taking care 150-300

children, housing over 30 homeless

elders, starting a soup kitchen that

feeding 1000 villagers, weekly, plus

being in the process of founding

an aids home for orphans under eight

years of age.

Father Norman didn't know I was

coming, hadn't seen me for

over 11 years and gave me a huge warm

hug anyway.  I knew the struggles to get

there hadn't been in vain!

 

Feeling selfish because I would be

getting much more than I would ever

give on this trip, I wanted to express

myself thru painting.

 

After telling Father my hearts desires,

he got me some canvas and a model,

all within one hour of my arriving.

"Walking the Talk" is his motto.

Santa Maria is located in a beautiful

area of Mexico surrounded

by hills and sparsely populated.

The children are often dumped

on Fathers doorstep and the first thing

he does is toss them in the shower,

much to their dismay.

Mexico has over twenty

million homeless children.

children without a bed!

 

As I snuggled into my nice warm

bed that night, I thought about

all the little ones sleeping on the

streets. With people like this special

priest, soon there will be no homeless

children!

 

Laughter and singing ring thru

Santa Maria's hallways. Great

suffering brings great joy and

that these kids have!

What they don't have are adults

to hug, touch and nurture them.

 

Many have no names upon arriving.

Some children hop freight trains

to Santa Maria to escape violent

families.

 

How many frightened

children have found refuge in

Fathers arms will never be known.

Tomorrow I will attend mass with

all the children, tonite I will  paint.

 

(SCROLL DOWN TO READ CHP. 2 "HUGS, HUGS & MORE HUGS!")

          "HUGS, HUGS, & MORE HUGS!"

              
"MOTHER TERESA OF CALCUTTA INDIA"

           Oil on Masonite

             Judy Jones

 

 

Curling my lashes, (will this vanity

 ever stop??) I glance out the window

 as the thirty homeless elders living

in Father Norman's house move slowly

 towards the dining room.

 

 Their intense joy overwhelms me! 

 Many are blind, wheelchair bound

while some have walkers, yet they

 stop along the way greeting each

 other with hugs, handshakes and

huge grins. I'm the 'old' one here,

 complaining if my Starbucks

 coffee is cold!

 

 Santa Marias chapel is mystically

austere. I am seated in the middle

on the front row with the other

 volunteers. The boys are on one

side, the girls on the other.

 

 Father Norman takes each child

into his arms, gazing tenderly into

their faces. For five seconds, that

 child has a parent like all the

children on earth.

 

 After mass the small children run

 up to us for hugs and kisses. Its

 the teenage boys pretending they

 don't need touching that tear me

 apart. The 'Silent Tears' in their

 eyes tell the truth. Their hearts

 turned inside out would be black and blue.

 

 I bump into Clyde while leaving

the chapel. "Uniquely Blended" is

 the way I can describe Clyde! He

is a diamond in the rough with the

 biggest heart on earth. He teaches

 english to the children.

 

 Clyde has traveled around the

world volunteering in orphanages

for years. He might be cooking one

 minute and the missing parent the

 next, handing a child a birthday gift.

 (Many chldren have never had parents

like we did for our birthdays).

 

If you go to Santa Maria, ask Clyde

 to tell you about his head injuries

 he got during the war. (Get a cup

 of coffee and a comfortable chair

first. His stories are hilarious,

heart breaking and long!)

 

 Leaving the chapel, Father

 Norman looks tired. He gives

100% to these children every

 second.  What a nice way to die,

 huh.   Loving too much!

 

 "Judy", he says, "I would have

been a saint if I had stayed in the

 monestary praying."  "Recently,"

 Father continues, "the local village

 newspaper wrote an article trying

to keep me from starting the aids

 home for children under eight

years of age who are orphaned.

They said it would be dangerous

 for the community. (germs, etc.)"

"The opposition I contend with rules

 out sainthood for me!  Dealing with

the darkest sides of life forces us to

look deeply into our own souls.

It puts us on our knees!"

 

 Father Norman Antonio is the

most unconditionally loving

 person I have ever met.Just

ask any of the thousands of

 children he has sheltered

 from the storms.

 

(SCROLL DOWN TO READ CHP. 3 "MEXICO CITY, HOME AND ME!")

                                               

   "MEXICO CITY, HOME & ME!"

               by  Judy Jones

                 

Whoa!  Night, a woman alone

 with a heavy backpack taking the subway

in Mexico City, could be dangerous.  My

 thoughts as the bus pulls in the station

from Santa Maria Orphanage.

 

I made it!  Startled, the front desk

 clerk at the hostel I made reservations

at stutters "Eh, Er this is a 'youth' hostel'.

"Yes, I am a tad older than 'youth' but

 I'm leaving at five in the morning to

 catch a plane and I can take a few

hours with noisy college kids, so

don't worry about me!"

 

"We only have one bed, its a top

 bunk in a dorm with eight guys",

 he answers still trying to

 discourgage me.

"For eight dollars a night,

 I'll sleep on the roof.  I'll take it."

 

The room is a disaster..exactly how

it should be with eight college guys. 

 Climbing up to the top bunk, suddenly

I stop in midair..no-way, I'm afraid of

heights.  "Take mine" beckons a sweet

voice from below.  "Oh thanks!" I reply

scurrying down.

 

Curling up for a much needed nap

 before going to eat, accents from

around the world filter in my ears. 

 Peering out thru the iron bars at

 the foot of my lower bunk I see

 long moving legs!  The bars remind

me of a prison movie.

 

There is exhilarating energy in this

 youth hostel..passing on information,

 making dates for the evening.  Lots

 of laughter.  Makes up for all the dirt. 

 Smoke, I smell smoke!  (not so exhilarating) 

 I didn't know they allowed smoking. 

 Well, it is only eight bucks I remind myself.

 

Mexico City is bustling at nine at night. 

Its a great city.  I take a cab to the Zona

Rosa tourist area to find a restaurant. 

The cab drivers have been wonderful

and inexpensive.  All the propaganada

that keep us afraid (like I read about

Mexico City cab drivers) is a killer to

 life.  I would rather die living than live dead.

 

After I eat I search for an internet cafe. 

Many to choose from!  Going in one I flee

quickly..smoking..everyone is smoking. 

I find one two doors down.  For twenty

pecos an hour I am connected to the

whole planet earth.  I'm one of the few

artists that welcomes the rapid

technological evolution our planet

is going thru.

 

Popping in a cozy looking bookstore

on my way to finding a cab, the armed

guard at the door saddens me.  Would

he really shoot someone for stealing

a book?  The huge gun he is wearing

says 'yes'.  I decide not to stay and

head for the hostel.

 

Its 4:30am and the cab the front desk

clerk was supposed to order for me

last night hasn't arrived.  Panic stricken

I finally see one from the window, run

outside and jump in.  The driver nodded

yes to taking me to the airport.

Five minutes later he pulls up in front

of a hotel in the Zona Rosa district.

I hadn't brought a Spanish dictionary

so I draw a picture of a plane for him. 

Nodding he drives to another hotel! 

(I had considered myself an artist)

 

I flap my arms, no recognition from

the driver.  Rolling down my window

I shout to a passerby who explains

to the driver who immediately whisks

me to the airport just in time

to catch my plane.

 

Watching the ground turn into tiny

dots as the plane takes off, I realize

I am only half alive until I become

all I was ever meant to be,

 "ON THE ROAD WITH JUDY!"

        

                          

               The Bones of the Homeless
                                                 by Judy Jones

                                     

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                                       by Judy Jones

                        

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ON THE ROAD WITH JUDY!

         
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