Diez Anos con Concha by D. Ohmans, 2009 THIS LOVE STORY begins with Marina, but when she had Alexis, ends with Concha. The object of my love from 1998 to present has been Marina's sister Concepcion: Concha, of Ascencion, Chihuahua, Mexico. Concha was born in that automotive year, 1955, to Glasa Jimenez and Roberto Guerrero. She is the eldest of four sisters and a brother, who died of dissipation and dissolution at around 40. She had to raise him and Marina and the other two, Rosa and Marta (who has remained in Mexico to this day) by herself after the demise of her mother and her dad's disappearance when she was 13 and 14. As a girl, Concha was sent out onto the prairie with a slingshot to try to bag a fine rabbit for dinner that night. Ascencion itself was a mere crossroads. As a young woman, Concha--and Marina with zoot suitor Javier, and 12 million others too--piled her bundle of clothing on her head and waded across the Rio Bravo. In 1986, Reagan signed his one-time amnesty for those who had been in the U.S. at least four years, and Concha, yet not Marina and Rosa, became an American. Young Concepcion waded across the Rio Bravo with a bundle on her head. She went straight to L. A. In the early Seventies the sewing shops which today are in China were in New York City and California. Over the years, Concha became adept at "production" of garments such as children's coveralls. By this time she had worked many years in "production" in Los Angeles and Albuquerque, married Ramon and had sons Ricardo and Adrian. Concha may have had the word, Tony scribbled on her hand, but not Ramon. Her second great love with Fernando was happier, including the generation of Alma, Omar, Osvaldo and Sarah. But handsome, ignorant Fernando left her for another woman. I first discovered little Sarita, and her cousin Adriana at my rental triplex on Hooker St. in Denver. The two gorgeous little Mexican girls stood joking and smiling with me as I repaired the decor on the porch. Who is your mother. My mother is Marina, said Adriana. Mine is visiting with Alma in the middle unit, said Sarah in Spanish. I had already been enthralled changing light bulbs with Marina at the small hand she extended toward my own. Once, I lying on her kitchen floor with my head under the sink, she introduced me to her older sister Concha. Who is older, you or Marina, I asked. What difference does it make who is older, said Concepcion Rios. On Alma's 21st birthday her husband, Lupe, invited me to the backyard party. I danced with Alma and then with her mother. Concha said I should learn how to dance, I said she should teach me, and we parted with her telephone number scribbled on my hand. She had a buxom feel to her waist (much later in Marina's basement I danced with Concha's cousin, Mina, who was sweating). I summoned up my courage and called her. We went to dinner at Govinda's on 14th and Cherry, and then watched an IMAX at the Museum of Nature and Science. Sarah may have come too, and under these conditions the expenditure on dates could become appreciable. Another favorite restaurant was the Kathmandu in Nederland, a hippie establishment serving chai and a vegetarian buffet. On the way there may have been the turning of the aspens along the Peak to Peak Highway. Or we may have simply gotten some of Denver's Mexican food at the Noa Noa or the Taqueria. Concha refused to be kissed. For the entire ten years I have pursued her, she denied me her soft lips all but once, when I surprised her with the American custom of "making out" on an overlook. Toward the end of my 13 years with Judy, my relationship with Concha was mediated by the concept, "Axis of Evil," that being the nexus of items of exploitation endured by the undocumented. As that experiment with Concha progressed, I was standing in a bank line with the entire proceeds of my sale of a two-bedroom house on a quarter acre straight up the mountain in historic Silver Plume with a check for $175K in my pocket. I was going to finally liquidate all mortgages, but I thought of Concha: she had purchased her own condo on her own under Clinton, but had been exploited by CitiFinancial--of Citigroup with its Obama's Robert Rubin--who sold it to her at nine percent, but then ten, 11 and 12, and then 12 for the next 26 years. I said no, purchased the now worthless condominium for half my fortune. After all, one reasoned after Solovyov, is not love a better interest rate. Solovyov had said the ego displaces its primary emphasis onto another instead of oneself, and the pleasure of liberating the condominium from Citi was a once in a lifetime experience. 12 or 13 other prime experiences later, I was 62 and 50K in debt. However, I somehow own my house (it was cheap to purchase and repair). At 63 one gets Social Security, and that goes to pay down the debt. As such, it obtains a double interest rate that may not be a factor in Social Security's calculations. At the time it seemed like a good idea to refinance Concha's "loan," rolling in her Dodge Stratus loan for good measure. Naturally, the home equity loan had to be in both our names. Concepcion always wanted to replace the dented Stratus, and thought five grand would do it. Instead, I sent her monthly bus tickets for the RTD. By this time, she had tried to live with me twice. Her loan was in our names, but the condo title in hers alone, and so the new used Ford Escort dealer was happy to give her one in 2004 on the strength of her signature. Again, the logic that my home equity loan was so much better than her car loan--cheaper for the two of us to repay--prevailed. That and nothing more brought my financial woes to a climax. On the other hand, I did get my name on the title to apartment 53 of the La Mirada condominium complex, which proves to be a mixed blessing when Solovyov's beloved object cannot, and should not, pay rent. Fortunately, the muddy shoulders of Pueblo's Fountain Creek render Denver inconsequential. We assume that (s)he who pays the property tax rules, and of course that is me. If Concha were to appear on my doorstep wanting to get married I would go straight to the Courthouse with our thirty dollars. But Concha let her daughter's opinion of Pueblo versus Denver's high schools overrule her own, and stayed in Denver while I made friends here. When she informed me she wanted to remain in the condo through Sarah's "college years," and not just high school, my illusions had been denied. Concha and I spent some time in my trailer in Golden, and I bought her a nearby one for $9K during which year she made $27K at Coors Tek. Arriving in Pueblo in 2003, I got my first job with the Census Bureau, which brought me back to Lakewood, next door to Golden, for "training." Also I always wanted to see the leaves change on the Peak to Peak highway between Nederland and Estes Park with her. So a dozen eggs were placed in one basket. But only a dozen. Concha benefited from the Reagan amnesty. She alone among the four surviving sisters is an American by citizenship. Yet even beautiful Marina and her husband were able to purchase a rancho-style home in a stable part of Denver, and their brother-in-law Armando to have a union job. Lately, Concha received a vocational certificate from Denver's Emily Griffith Opportunity School in floor care, funded by Robert Duvall's Duvall Family Foundation. Marina's husband was deported in 2008 and joins his father and Concha's sister Marta in northern Mexico. One of her sons followed. Javier's misfortune was an accident for my long relationship too, because I immediately threw my heart to Marina. The same was to occur with their cousin Mina. I paid $1,250 in Javier's fines. I imagined that I could fill the role of the missing Javier in her life, at least until he were to return. I invited her to move to live in Pueblo with me, and bring little Alexis (to such depths man can be drawn). Yet happy enough to be around her children and their kids, Marina demurely declined. When my poems to Marina surfaced on the World Wide Web, Concha was furious, until she heard that I paid both sides of our 2009 property taxes. The story would not be complete without the drama of the diamond ring. In my case, I bought a 1/4 carat one at Montgomery Wards, now defunct. At times Concha would actually wear it, and once or twice the diamond itself was returned through a car window. I was happy to see my ring on her finger. At one point, Concha wanted nothing to do with my "tonteria." Yet often I beg her to "spend eternity" with me. My guest room has been liberated. On the other hand, in the last analysis, Concha is the more beautiful. In late 2008 I painted Concha's condo floor apricot, and struggled with her about my haste. In the spring, she paid a thousand dollars for her son-in- law Roberto to put on linoleum. In mid-2009 I paid her for it, and she signed the receipt, "Concepcion Rios Ohmans." That was enough for me. On August 22, 2009, the day my nephew Hays marries Raahi from India, I declare myself married to Concepcion by common law of Colorado for all eternity. This provides a reality-based foundation for a Platonic love affair with a long- married Mexican woman in Pueblo, within the strictures of my eternal marriage and the Tenth Commandment. Notes Jorge A. Bustamante, "Cruzar la Linea: la migracion de Mexico a los Estados Unidos", Fondo de Cultura Economica, Mexico City, 1997. -- JDO