Mike's Two Cents Worth

I pursued genealogy thirty years ago when it was a laborious process of visiting libraries and writing letters.  These days the internet and sites like ancestry.com have changed all that and lately I’ve been discovering my roots at light speed – taking advantage of the work done by distant cousins whose “family trees” are instantly available to incorporate into my own.  I have found literally hundreds of branches and made a few interesting discoveries concerning my heritage.

My most recent revelation fascinates me the most.  I have lived all these years ignorant of the amazing fact that the subject of a Walt Disney animated film was my great (x11) grandmother.

John Rolfe was a colonist, and successful tobacco farmer whose English wife had died.  Pocahontus had been captured and was being held for ransom at Henricus where John lived.   According to this account in Wikipedia He was a pious man who agonized over the potential moral repercussions of marrying a heathen.

As I contemplated this event from 400 years ago I soon realized how significant John Rolfe’s decision was to me.  Had he decided against marrying this “heathen” I would not be here today!  What I would have brushed away as an interesting bit of historical trivia just a few days ago is now a pivotal event in bringing me into existence.  It set my mind to contemplating just how many other insignificant events in history have transpired, any one of which, if altered, would have eliminated the possibility of ME.

I’m not the only one who would not be here now had old John’s piety outweighed his lustful desire.  I am removed from Pocahontus by 12 generations in one line (Menefee) and by 11 through another (Moorman).  Taking the nearest I find that by doubling the number of grandparents for each generation I have 1,048 great (x11) grandmothers.  Each of them must have an even larger number of grandsons and granddaughters.  So eliminating young Thomas (the son of John and Pocahontus) would have quite a ripple effect.  Multiplied by the fact that the elimination of his grandchildren would have created a further “domino” ripple effect spreading out and eliminating potentially millions of progeny.

If we go back a thousand years the number of grandparents each of us have number in the billions – which proves there has been considerable inbreeding in the creation of the human race.   The number of people who are directly related to say, Charlemagne, may be in the thousands, but indirectly there would have to be billions, if not every human in the civilized world.

That being the case there simply are no insignificant persons in history.  The elimination of a single life would have changed our world.  Unless you don’t consider not being here at all a significant change.  Oh there would still be billions of people here… they just wouldn’t be us!!  I find that philosophically fascinating.

It now becomes abundantly clear, and perhaps inanely obvious, that we are all here, and who we are, because of trillions upon trillions of dangerously close calls, chance encounters, and random events.

A sword tip just misses a vital organ; the doctor arrives too late because of a broken wheel on his carriage; someone decides at the last minute to attend a dance; or a baby is born after a woman is sexually assaulted by a victorious soldier.  All of these singular, and oftentimes trivial, moments in history don’t just have the potential to ripple forward in time, with effects growing geometrically with each generation… they do!  Given enough time they have affected the very existence of every one living today.

The deep philosophical implications of this idea are fundamental.  Without supernatural intervention on the most basic level, would we not be just the product of chance – of random events?  If God is not a super-freak of control, dictating the outcome of every minute event (both positive and negative – including pregnancy producing rapes), then we are all just here by accident.

I’m back in Mexico and my buddy Manuel invited me to spend the day with him in the chile fields.  He buys and sells chiles and part of his job is to arrange and pay for the field workers “cortaderos” who pick the chiles and the “tortones” (trucks) that haul them to the drying plant where they become “chiles secos” (dried chiles) and then sent on to the wholesalers.

Dried chiles sell for 80 pesos per kilo.  The pickers get 5 pesos for each basket they pick and can pick 50 to 60 baskets in a day on average.

The pickers are mostly Indians from the south of Mexico – migrant workers who live here temporarily during the harvesting season which lasts for more than six months.  While the parents are working in the fields the children take care of one another and entertain themselves like poor children do.  I am impressed by the maturity of the little mamacitas, girls barely older than their younger charges strapped to their backs with nothing more than a soft blanket.

Barely bigger than the siblings they care for, these Indian girls babysit while their parents harvest chiles in the fields near Mazatlan Mexico.

I’ve got more photos but I’m on the boat and my connection is so slow I’ll have to wait for another time.

February 12, 2010

I haven’t ranted for more than a week now because I’ve been busy.  I’m dusting off some old skills and having a good time doing it.  I’m designing and making handbags.  Yes, one of the many hats I’ve worn over the years was that of handbag designer/manufacturer.

It’s now March 17th and Kili and I have a website and a line of handbags.  You can see them here Vagabond Handbags.

When I was 26 I was losing my ass in the motorcycle helmet wholesale business.  The manufacturer was my very own father.  He was one of the first two manufacturers to mold helmets from polycarbonate plastic, which meant his helmets were stronger and cheaper than fiberglass.  He had ignored the motorcycle dealers in favor of selling to the large sporting goods wholesalers.  I saw the potential, built a network of wholesalers, was making good money, became my father’s second largest customer in my first year, with a half million in volume.  Soon my customers discovered my source… my dad… and one by one they began buying helmets from him.  For the same price he was charging me.  How stupid was that?

I was on my ass financially and looking for some way out.  I woke up one morning with the idea of making leather belts.  It was more than an idea, it was a certain knowledge that that was what I was going to do and that it would save me financially.  Everyone thought I’d lost my mind.

Handbag from a used sail trimmed in leather

The year was 1972 and the hippy thing was hot, with bell bottom jeans and latigo leather belts and bags were huge.  I’ll shorten the story… though there’s a lot to it.  I made some sample belts, having never made a belt before in my life.  Went to a trade show, established a crew of sales reps, added handbags to the mix and within one year had a $100,000 dollar month.  It was frantic.

The heavy leather look died and I transitioned into soft leather bags, and cloth bags.  One of my hottest lines was bags made from old blue jeans, lined with bandana.  How hot?  I was buying jeans from a rag dealer in Denver in 2,000 lb bales… one bale a week.  My last collection was quilted burlap trimmed in soft leather.  The returns were killing me.  Burlap is not a tough material and won’t take the abuse women give a bag.

I had three great years and then the economy went very bad during the oil embargo of ‘75.  I had bought an old line manufacturer in Newburgh New York and was commuting between Colorado Springs (where I had moved my factory from Olathe Kansas), and spread myself too thin, and grown too fast… etc.  I was for a time one of the largest and hottest brands in the market. Applescraps was the name.

So the other day my daughter suggested I make handbags from used sails.  It made sense to her since I am a sailor and once made handbags.  It appealed to me because my creative itch has needed scratching and… speaking of scratch… I could use a little more of it.

My girlfriend lives in California – near L.A. – and although she would love to move to Mexico and join me on my boat she can’t just yet.  So since she can’t come to Mexico I’m spending two-thirds of my time in California.  I brought my portable sewing machine so I could begin making handbags, and on the way up from Mazatlan I stopped in Guymas to visit friends with a boat in the “marina seca” (dry marina) and while I was there I bought a used sail from the owner of the marina.  He’s got lots of used sailing gear.  It seems from time to time a gringo abandons his boat and never returns.  So with sail and sewing machine in hand I arrived at Kili’s place and set up shop about the end of January.

The first thing I did was sell my sewing machine and buy a more powerful one.  I got lucky and found a used Mitsubishi commercial walking foot machine with table, motor and a great articulating light, all within an hour of Kili’s house.  The portable brought enough to cover the cost of its replacement.  Within a week I was sewing on a machine very similar to the Juki of my younger days.  Like riding a bicycle, it all comes back to you like it was yesterday.

Now I’m in the design process and I’ve come up with one I like.  It can be a frustrating process but the reward is worth it.  And, though I never have, nor do I intend to carry one, I enjoy making things that are functional.