Jen and I visited a small shop in Ajijic yesterday, a women’s cooperative in which women from the local area knit and sew and crochet various articles of clothes and décor, from blouses and dresses to change purses, some very nice work indeed.
The young woman clerk on duty was there with her infant son of nine months, she told us. Her name was Candy, she allowed, and his was Benjamin.
Aha! I proclaimed. Like Benjamin Franklin?
Like Benjamin Button! she countered. (Ben-ha-MEEN Boo-TONE.)
Candy with her cute-as-a-button Ben
And her little Benjie was indeed cute as a button in his mother’s arms. And wrapped in the mantle of the silver screen, as I’m sure Candy had seen the recent film based on a Scott Fitzgerald story, not read the story itself. (I’ve seen neither.)
What a gauze our Hollywood spins! What a worldwide wonder fabric!
And we hope that Benjie, our little boo-TONE, will not grow younger and younger over the years –heavens no! – like the character in the Fitzgerald story – but will grow older and prosper and, who knows, some day achieve an education that Candy may never have had – and be able to decide on his own whether he wants merely to see the movie or will read the book. (Will reading survive to his maturity?)
These coop feminists, I inquired after taking the Madonna and child photo, are they crazy? Oh, no, Candy protested. Are they dangerous? Why do you ask, sir?
A stitch in time can save nine, indeed – and the lives of many a young and pretty boy.
