Venezuela – Page 15 – The Pull Of The Land

El Pao Society and Class Struggle

March 11, 2021March 11, 2021 Richard Barnes

“It began to dawn upon me uneasily that perhaps the right way to judge a movement was by the persons who made it up rather than by its rationalistic perfection and by the promises it held out. Perhaps, after all, the proof of social schemes was meant to be a posteriori rather than a priori. it would be a poor trade to give up a non-rational world in which you liked everybody, for a rational one in which you liked nobody.” — Richard Weaver, “Up From Liberalism” (1958)

“We must address broader issues, social boredom, wants, the mind, the heart — nothing to do with politics, or very little so.” — Russell Kirk

“The State exists simply to promote and to protect the ordinary happiness of human beings in this life. A husband and wife chatting over a fire, a couple of friends having a game of darts in a pub, a man reading a book in his own room or digging in his own garden — that is what the State is there for. And unless they are helping to increase and prolong and protect such moments, all the laws, parliaments, armies, courts, police, economics, etc., are simply a waste of time.” — C. S. Lewis

“And Judah and Israel dwelt safely, every man under his vine and under his fig tree, from Dan even to Beersheba, all the days of Solomon.” — I Kings 4:25

Earlier this year, I was asked whether social gears ground with difficulty living in El Pao, considering the differences between the Anglo and Spanish Americans not only in culture but, in some cases, also in class. The question forced me to pause and think back on my childhood in El Pao.

Upon reflection, and not meaning to be a Pollyanna about this, I must say that, in El Pao, I lived among the type of people I would ally myself with in the quest for the good life, that life of finding and pursuing your calling with all your might knowing that you will have the support, the criticism, and the encouragement you need to realize that life.

For those readers who grew up in small town America, I believe your experiences were most likely very similar to mine and to those of my childhood friends, especially early childhood.

Long before the television show, Cheers, gave us the refrain, “Where Everybody Knows Your Name”, I knew this to be the case, not in a bar, but in El Pao. We could name every person, not only in our school, but in every house. We could not get away with dialing the telephone and hanging up unless we did this only once or at most twice. Beyond that, you were very likely to be caught. Doors were left unlocked, your teachers knew not only your parents but every sibling and cousin, and upon your return from a long vacation or from an even longer absence for school, everyone knew all about where you were and how you had been doing.

No one expressed concerns when you and your buddies, rifle in hand, explored the surrounding jungles, unless you stumbled upon the secret dynamite depository, which we did on one occasion. However, once the national guard ascertained who we were, they let us go with a mild admonition, but not before they requested us to demonstrate our shooting skills (which duly impressed them, I might add).

Our friends included Venezuelans, Americans, Chileans, Cubans, English, German, Spanish, and Russian. From all “classes.” This was in addition to relatives, friends, and acquaintances outside the camp, who lived in San Félix, Puerto Ordaz, and Ciudad Bolivar, along the Orinoco, Puerto de la Cruz on the northern coast, Caracas, and more.

I do not recall hearing the social gears grind, let alone bumping into them, until well into my adolescence.

Those gears ground so smoothly for all those years because we, in a very real sense, lived in a classless society.

I do not mean there were no distinctions, for that will simply never be. We had distinctions, whether fathers, mothers, and children, or priests, pastors, and laity, or teachers and students, or bosses and subordinates, or general managers and miners, or heads of households and gardeners. Distinctions abounded all around us. We respected them; we gave honor to whom honor was due. But, paradoxically, we didn’t notice, let alone dwell upon them. And skin color did not even come into our thinking.

Recently, many years later, I’ve come into contact with childhood friends who, invariably, tell me that El Pao was a paradise to them. I can relate.

Why was all that collaborative, dare I say, loving, spirit buried under class and race warfare? Like Steve McQueen asks at the end of The Sand Pebbles, “What happened? What the [expletive] happened?”

Well, the man whose most famous publication, The Communist Manifesto, that strident, profane booklet, which, in my opinion, everyone should read, alongside the Bible (that way you know what both sides are thinking) is part of what happened. The Manifesto states, “The Communists … openly declare that their ends can be attained only by the forcible overthrow of all existing social conditions.” Marx made it very clear that progress can only come by means of violence. For that to happen, the home and church must be destroyed. So, it calls the home a brothel, wives and mothers, whores, religion, an opiate, and more. UNESCO registered that insufferable screed to its “Memory of the World Programme”. Why am I not surprised?

The idea of class struggle was not new or original with Marx; what was unique was his re-writing of all of human history with class warfare at the center. The concepts in the Manifesto, published in February 1848, were reinforced with the publication, in 1859, of Darwin’s On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life.

One would think that, with all the contemporary concern with racism, we would hear much more about Darwin’s contribution on “Favoured Races”. One would think so in vain.

As Engels said in his eulogy to Marx in 1883: “Just as Darwin discovered the law of evolution in organic nature, so Marx discovered the law of evolution in human history.” And each made organic nature and human history something ugly.

If you would like to see a contrast between pre and post-Darwinian/Marxist thinking, set aside some evenings to watch the BBC’s The Blue Planet. It is a strikingly beautiful production marred by its constant, almost unbearable allusions to death and sex time and time again. I watched every episode, but as each episode screened, something about it increasingly darkened the beauty that it supposedly intended to convey.

In contrast we have Gilbert White’s publication, The Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne, published in 1789 and never out of print. This parish parson, Gilbert White, spent his entire life in Selborne parish serving his flock and observing and drawing the different plants and animals and natural history of his region. It is an achingly and evocatively beautiful record reflecting the harmony of creation and how everything in nature “fits” perfectly, a reflection of nature’s God.

Both the BBC and White observed the same creation, the same nature. But one saw only blood and sex in the struggle for food and species preservation; the other saw harmony and beauty, reflecting the glory of the Creator.

I would say that my early childhood in El Pao was more akin to White’s Selborne, whereas my later adolescence, for a shorter period of time, saw more of Marx’s Manifesto, although not exclusively. I believe that anyone with a sense of beauty and love and harmony would prefer the former. And, notice, there was no politics in the former. Or very little so.

“Everything was politics. Too much politics. That’s no way to live.” — Mr. Tuohy, my parents’ friend, who later became my friend also, speaking to me about Chile after Allende’s ascent.

“The trouble with Socialism is that it takes too many evenings” — Sounds like Yogi Berra, but is attributed to Oscar Wilde

The popular show, *Cheers*, where everybody knows your name. Everybody in El Pao knew your name, with or without the bar.

*The Natural History of Selborne*, Folio Society edition

Which is it?

February 10, 2021February 10, 2021 Richard Barnes

The Indian worker is poor, but he is free. His condition is preferable to that of the peasant in great parts of northern Europe …. — Alexander von Humboldt, circa 1800

… y el pobre en su choza, libertad pidió [And the poor man in his hovel, for freedom implored.]. — Venezuelan National Anthem, 1810

Well, which is it?

This blog has often referred to Humboldt (see Monster Aguirre and The Invention of Nature for but two allusions; the search bar will direct you to more). Humboldt was no royalist; he did not even pause for an irony alert to ponder that “modern”, progressive France denied him permits to travel for scientific inquiry, whereas obscurantist Spain did.

Nevertheless, he recognized that the poor in pre-revolutionary Spanish America were free and many were prosperous. He wrote that a Mexican peasant under the Spaniards earned five (5) times more than a peasant in India under the English. He further discovered that Nueva España (Mexico) provided twice more to Spain’s treasury than India, with 5-times the population, did to England’s. During his visit to Spanish America, Venezuelans consumed 189 pounds of meat per capita, compared to 163 pounds by Parisians. Mexicans consumed 363 pounds of bread per capita compared to 377 by Parisians. Miners earned 25 to 30 francs per week compared to 4 to 5 francs by Saxons.

Esquivel Obregón, a Mexican, wrote that a wage earner in his country could buy 38 hectoliters (a hectoliter is 100 liters) of corn and 2,300 kilograms of flour in 1800, but only 24 and 525, respectively, in 1908, after “independence.” These are not isolated figures, but they do signal the catastrophic decline of Spanish America’s standard of living and reflect the desolation caused by the “chimera of liberty”.

But no need to rely on a Humboldt or an Obregón. What did Simón Bolívar himself write in 1829, a year before he died?

“From one end to the other, the New World is an abyss of abomination; there is no good faith in [Spanish] America; treaties are mere paper; constitutions, books; elections, combat; liberty, anarchy; life, a torment. We’ve never been so disgraced as we are now. Before, we enjoyed good things; illusion is fed by chimera … we are tormented by bitter realities.”

So one must wrestle with the fact that “the poor man in his hovel” most certainly was not imploring for freedom. He was free and prosperous.

Much, much more was going on at the time, but the overarching canopy was the French Revolution and its atheistic concepts which sought to disparage all that went before, including one’s own history. A 19th century Colombian diplomat wrote perceptively,

“In the codices [Spain was notorious for documenting everything. These codices are treasure troves for those willing and able to research largely unread tomes waiting to be rediscovered] known by me, the history of the Conquest and of the vice-royalty was recorded…. Three centuries of a patriarchal empire whose glories were echoed in palaces, pulpits, taverns, Indian colloquiums, and in royal audiences…. Then the violent winds blew and our ship ran aground on the Oedipus reefs where the desire to assassinate the fathers, to destroy the moorings of common ethics and religion which bound diverse cultures and civilizations to one tongue, one culture, and one loyalty to common principles, exalted the passions and drove men to madness.”

That diplomat went on to say, “…the degree of destruction and depopulation experienced in these lands compares with my vehement desire that someone, one day will love the Truth enough to divulge what I have observed and written.”

Readers of this blog know that I love Venezuela, the land of my birth. It is a land of heartbreaking beauty and one that has absorbed many rivers of blood since the early 19th century and is even now suffering greatly. The way back to sanity, prosperity, liberty, and peace begins with the Truth.

Readers should also see significant parallels to current events in the United States. George Washington, in his Farewell Address, addressed similar matters as were addressed by that Colombian diplomat, including the need for a common religion and common culture to bind together diverse peoples. The current, unbridled rush to deny anything good in our founding, and especially to denigrate our common religion, is very similar to the temper which became prevalent in Spanish American elite circles in the early 1800’s.

In both, Truth is the first casualty and all else follows, beginning with ordered liberty.

To restore and preserve our ordered liberty, we must recover and speak the Truth. Pilate tarried not for an answer when he asked, “What is truth?”, but turned away from Truth Personified, Who stood before him.

Unlike Pilate who inquired and did not await for a reply, we must do differently.

And the Truth will set us free.

17th century Spanish American art from Peru

War to the Death

January 27, 2021January 27, 2021 Richard Barnes

I had promised to write about Simón Bolívar off and on, because “it is simply impossible to consider Venezuela … without grappling with Bolívar ….”

Bolívar possessed attributes that are worthy of admiration and imitation. But we must recognize that he also encompassed much that is not so worthy. Horribly so.

One fact we must deal with is his utter, dispassionate cruelty documented in contemporary journals and letters, including some in Bolívar’s own hand.

This post addresses Bolívar’s War to the Death Decree (Decreto de Guerra a Muerte) [Decreto]. This decree and the resulting bloodbath has to be addressed by Bolívar’s many admiring biographers and Venezuelan textbooks because it is simply too well known to be ignored. As I grew up in Venezuela I accepted at face value that the Decreto was issued in reaction to a “war to the death” on the part of the Spaniards.

That explanation was easy to accept given the Lascasian view of Spain so prevalent, even to this day, in South and North America (Bolivar). In addition, the unbelievably horrible depredations of “royalist” José Tomás Bove are well documented (Bove) and certainly help explain how a furious Bolívar might react with his own sanguinary actions.

However, a cursory review of the timelines and some additional study of easily-available documents — Bove’s actions took place after the Decreto and Bove was loyal to no one but his marauding, killer hordes; so much so that the Spaniards had moved to depose him — clearly show that Bolívar could not have used Bove as justification. Indeed, Bove’s name appears nowhere in the Decreto. How could it? He was practically an unknown at the time it was promulgated.

To understand the genesis of the Decreto, one need only consider the genesis of the South American wars for independence: The French Revolution (Bastille).

The Caribbean had already seen a “War To the Death”. It took place in Haiti, a nation which today shares an island with the Dominican Republic and which has never fully recovered from its own decree.

Bolívar’s Decreto was an adoption of the Haitian revolutionary model which had declared a “war to the death” on the French. To be clear: this was a decree calling on all inhabitants to “exterminate” every single French or European man, woman, and child on the island.

Jean-Jacques Dessalines, as bloodthirsty a man as has ever lived, succeeded in ridding Haiti of the French. He and his troops entered villages, encouraging the people to go to their churches to ensure their and their children’s safety. He and his men would then proceed to bayonet, decapitate, eviscerate, and otherwise torture the French, careful to leave the women and children for last for rape and abuse. In his presence, his troops burned at least one priest alive because the cleric dared to denounce Dessalines’s actions as Satanic.

Whenever you read or hear hagiographies of Jean-Jacque Rousseau , always remember: by their fruit ye shall know them. One fruit is his namesake, Jean-Jacques Dessalines, who, in 1806, was brutally murdered and dismembered.

In 1804, Dessalines proclaimed himself Jacques I, Emperor of Haiti. He died a mere two years later, but not before he received the great Venezuelan, Francisco de Miranda. In that audience, Dessalines urged Miranda to do as he had done: proclaim a war of extermination on the Spaniards and Europeans. Miranda, to his eternal credit, declined to do so.

However, less than a decade later, Bolívar did take the advice and in 1812 the Decreto was drafted although formally proclaimed in June, 1813. Nevertheless, ever the man of action, Bolívar had previously ordered his men to kill without quarter and to incarcerate those who were not in uniform. In his letter to the congress in Nueva Granada, he wrote that he had traversed lands, cities, and towns, “where all Europeans and Canarios without exception were executed.”

And how were they executed?

The gory events in Caracas and La Guaira, where his loyal commander, Juan Bautista Arismendi, murdered 886 prisoners who had languished in execrable conditions for a year, provides an answer. They were pulled out of jail and summarily shot. He then ordered between 500 and 1,000 sick and disabled from hospitals and, to save powder, had them beaten to death with clubs and boards. The coup de grâce was by means of large rocks crushing the heads of the dying. He then ordered ladies to be dressed in white and dance among the bloody bodies as they awaited the rapine of Arismendi’s men.

Bolívar wrote about this to the Congress in Nueva Granada.

In a letter written a month before his death in December, 1830, Bolívar wrote:

“1. America is ungovernable, 2. he who serves a revolution, plows the sea, 3. the only thing one can do in America is emigrate, 4. this land will fall into the hands of an unbridled multitude who will then fall under petty tyrants of all colors and races 5. from which the Europeans will not deign to rescue us. 6. If it were possible for an area of the world to return to primitive chaos, this would be America.”

Despite his care about his physical appearance, Bolívar was one of the least self-aware men in history, never acknowledging his own role in thrusting great portions of South America into chaos.

A Venezuelan historian writes:

“Bolívar’s vocation was equivocal, his character mercurial. He proclaimed liberty and imposed tyranny. He praised civility and waged terror. He exalted fraternity and encouraged fratricide. He revered Spanish-American unity, but his wars destroyed the institutions that would have preserved it … Of that grand civilization that had successfully functioned for centuries, only the memory remained in a continent of men in conflict with men in the name of ghostly principles.”

One reason it is necessary to know one’s history is because that helps to understand how one got to the present and what path to trace towards the future. Venezuelans are no different than Americans in that they too seek peace and unity — not uniformity, but unity. In the United States that unity is achievable by a return to our traditions, which are not difficult to discern. Sources such as Bradford’s Journal, the Mayflower Compact, the Christian bases of our colonial governments, Washington’s Farewell Address, and more speak to us today.

In the case of Venezuela, her traditions, although a bit more difficult to discern, can be re-discovered with the removal of several generations of accumulated underbrush, including the hagiography bathing Simón Bolívar. One can begin with Bolívar’s own lament about “centuries of civilization” having been destroyed by his wars. What was that civilization? Can its foundations be rediscovered and improved?

I think they can.

Jean-Jacques Dessalines, Emperor of Haiti (1758-1806). Enraged by a priest who classified his slaughterhouse actions as “Satanic”, he ordered his men to burn the priest alive as he watched.

Engraving (1806) illustrating Dessalines holding the severed head of a French woman. He was murdered that same year.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778). He loved children. Except his own — he left 4 or 5 in foundling homes because he refused to care for them. Yet he insisted on telling the rest of us how to live. And his philosophy is very much with us today. By their fruit ye shall know them.

Francisco de Miranda (1750-1816). Before Bolivar, he sought independence from Spain, but not for the same revolutionary reasons. Miranda lived in the United States and met George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, Samuel Adams, and Thomas Jefferson, among others. A soldier, statesman, scholar. He was betrayed by Bolivar, handed to the Spanish, and died in exile in Spain, aged 66. The portrait is by Martin Tovar y Tovar, a famous Venezuelan painter.

Sketch of Simón Bolívar made from life by José María Espinoza in 1830, his final year.

Barred for Life

January 12, 2021January 12, 2021 Richard Barnes

This blog has alluded to President Marcos Pérez Jiménez on several occasions, such as here and here (the blog search bar will direct you to more). Hearing and reading about calls by the usual suspects to bar President Trump from running again for office, reminds me of Venezuelan politicians’ visceral detestation of President Jiménez.

First, to get a taste of how Jiménez is treated by the elite media, let us very briefly contrast the standard accounts of Pérez Jiménez with those of Fidel Castro. The following quotes are the initial paragraph for Jiménez and Castro, respectively, as presented in Brittanica:

“Marcos Pérez Jiménez, (born April 25, 1914, Michelena, Venezuela — died September 20, 2001, Madrid, Spain), professional soldier and president (1952-58) of Venezuela whose regime was marked by extravagance, corruption, police oppression, and mounting unemployment.”

“Fidel Castro, in full Fidel Alejandro Castro Ruz, (born August 13, 1926, near Birán, Cuba–died November 25, 2016, Cuba), political leader of Cuba(1959–2008) who transformed his country into the first communist state in the Western Hemisphere. Castro became a symbol of communist revolution in Latin America. He held the title of premier until 1976 and then began a long tenure as president of the Council of State and the Council of Ministers. He handed over provisional power in July 2006 because of health problems and formally relinquished the presidency in February 2008.”

Is it just me, or does the second entry have a whiff of heroism to it as contrasted with the first?

Well, Brittanica reflects the standard treatment, which paints Jiménez as a corrupt ne’er-do-well, while Castro is portrayed as something of an epic figure, as opposed to the brutal Communist dictator who “succeeded” in transforming Cuba from a country with a “higher standard of living in 1958 than half of Europe, a larger middle class than Switzerland, a more highly unionized work force than the U.S., more doctors and dentists per capita than Great Britain, more cars and televisions per capita than Canada or Germany….(Fontova).”

(I began distrusting the media during the Nixon years, even though I was not a Nixon fan. But it was the Reagan years that finally convinced me we could not believe the regular media. One of our founders, upon being asked what the 1787 Constitutional Convention had wrought, replied, “A republic, if you can keep it.” A republic requires, among other things, hard work and study. That study requires gathering information and knowledge as one would dig for treasure. Being spoon fed by The New York Times won’t cut it.)

Jiménez enhanced Venezuela’s independence by promoting oil and ore concessions and improving or expanding the transportation and transit infrastructure. In brief, he catapulted Venezuela onto the mid-twentieth century. Caracas was modernized with skyscrapers, major public housing projects, and other initiatives, including the symbolic Humboldt Hotel overlooking the city. During his tenure, Venezuela built South America’s finest highway system, most of which is still in use into the 21st century, including spectacular freeways cutting through and winding around giant mountain ranges.

Venezuela was transformed into the most modern nation of South America: “modern” defined as excellent infrastructure, breathtaking skylines, and a rapidly growing middle class. In addition, during Jiménez’s tenure, about one million Europeans immigrated to Venezuela, from all countries, but principally Spain and Portugal. Many Americans came to work in Venezuela, primarily, but not exclusively, in the oil and ore industries. Recall that in the case of Cuba, tens of thousands emigrated. Other than disgruntled professors and assorted sympathizers, no one voluntarily immigrated to Cuba.

By the way, according to Brittanica (see above), the Jiménez “regime” was characterized by “mounting unemployment.” However, a million Europeans do not emigrate to a country with “mounting unemployment.” The truth is that employment was so plentiful that Jiménez opened the doors to immigration in order to fulfill the labor demand, which greatly exceeded supply.

(I must be charitable and diplomatic; therefore, I refuse to say that Brittanica and other elite editors are liars. I’ll just say that their assertions have little, if any basis in the facts of the matter.)

A plebiscite was held in December, 1957, which Jiménez won handily, but which opponents insisted was a rigged exercise. Full scale riots, with focal centers in the Universidad de Caracas, ensued, culminating in a military coup. Jiménez went into self-imposed exile in Miami Beach, in 1958, having received asylum from the United States. However, the Kennedy administration, extradited him back to Venezuela, vainly believing the United States federal government, for the first time in its history, could afford to break its promise of asylum in exchange for the applause of Venezuelan politicians. This was an asymmetrical swap: honor out; applause in. We succeeded with the former, weightier matter; failed with the latter, transitory one.

Jiménez was eventually convicted of theft and sentenced to 4 years, which had already been exceeded by the time of the sentencing, so he was released and emigrated to Spain from where he ran for the Senate in absentia and won by overwhelming margins. However, alarmed politicians succeeded in overturning his election. In 1973 his supporters nominated him for the presidency. Stunned by his popularity, the political parties amended the constitution, in effect retroactively prohibiting him from running for president again.

He died in Spain in 2001, having never returned to Venezuela.

Whether you love him, hate him, or are indifferent to him, Marcos Pérez Jiménez was one of the most remarkable men in Venezuela’s history. This capsule summary of his tenure reminds us that the vindictive nature of politicians is not limited to Venezuelans who barred their political opponent from running for president. We now have American politicians seeking to do the same against President Trump.

The Venezuelan politicians succeeded. We shall see whether the American variety succeeds as well.

*Time Magazine* (February 28, 1955) could not ignore the phenomenal results of Jimenez’s administration.

Despite horrendous results whereby Cuba descended from unprecedented prosperity to island basket case and torture chamber, Fidel Castro is treated with reverence by our elite media.

Caracas-La Guaira expressway under construction in the 50s.

Tunnel construction Caracas-La Guira Expressway, circa 1952.

Unvisited Tombs

December 31, 2020December 31, 2020 Richard Barnes

“The growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.” — George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans)

George Eliot lived and worked during the Victorian Era, hence, despite her atheism, her works were imbued with a Christian ethos. Unlike today’s fellow atheists, she did not overexert herself to hide her Christian presuppositions, given that these were considered to be discoverable by mere human reason and tradition, not needing supernatural revelation.

Since the early 20th century, vast evidence of the solitary, nasty, brutish, and short nature of atheistic life has been accumulated, including 100,000,000 extra-judicial deaths in atheistic, Communist lands (if your stomach is strong, see The Black Book of Communism for details). Given that reality and much more, contra Eliot, skeptics have been more careful to deny or obfuscate anything that might point to Christian presuppositions in their efforts to demonstrate moral virtues without Christianity. It’s not an easy task.

But this year’s end post is something of a salute to Eliot’s quote above, which is easily reconcilable to Biblical teaching.

When year’s end approaches, I often find myself thinking about Juan el bartender.

Juan the bartender?

Juan was Portuguese. He came to Venezuela to earn money which he would send to his family in Portugal. He eventually made his way to the interior of the country where he was hired by Bethlehem Steel to serve as the El Pao Club bartender. Near every year’s end, Juan would treat some of the boys by giving each a ride on his motorcycle. He would take his rider to the labor camp (otro campo) for a short spin around the area, saluting friends and other kids, and then he’d return them to the El Pao Club.

It was years later before I came to realize that what seemed a mere kick to me, required Juan to sacrifice part of his lunch hour in order to give a few boys something to remember for many years later, in my case for many decades later. That was very kind of him and tells me much about his character.

He eventually sent enough money to Portugal that he resigned and returned to Portugal, hopefully to rejoin his family and to live a productive life there. I am sure he also gave joy to children in his little corner of the earth.

I also think of Mr. Serrao. Every New Year’s Day, he would drive his and as many other camp children who could squeeze into his station wagon, around El Pao and then to the labor camp, honking his horn, and encouraging the kids to scream, blow their own little party horns, hang their torsos out the windows, and clap their hands as they yelled, “Feliz Año Nuevo!” as loudly as screeching parrots. The folks in the labor camp always expected this and would join in the festivities by clapping, laughing, and yelling back, “Felíz Año Nuevo!”

As with Juan el bartender, it was years later before I came to appreciate Mr. Serrao’s New Year’s practice. This took precious time from him, including having to awaken early on New Year’s Day, when I am sure he would have preferred sleeping in. At least a bit.

And to have a multitude of kids jam pack themselves into his vehicle was no walk in the park. But he was cheery and happy along with us and seemed to genuinely enjoy being a highlight of the year for us.

Mr. Serrao and his family lived next door to us for a number of years; his sons were very good childhood friends. He requested and obtained a transfer back to Bethlehem and that was the end of the Serrao New Year’s festivities. But they live on in my memory.

Juan Villanueva was the pastor of the small protestant church which met in the labor camp. Each year, he would celebrate a New Year’s Eve service designed to last until the chiming of the bells announcing the new year. I would lie if I told you I looked forward to this annual service. I did not. However, I would also lie if I told you I did not enjoy it, once there. I did. And, looking back, I deeply appreciate those services.

Here again, we have a man who took precious time to prepare for and celebrate a service designed to encourage us to remember that our days are in the hands of Him Who created us and all things about and around us, including the very days of our lives. It was both joyful and sobering to be so reminded, year in and year out.

Juan Villanueva left El Pao and pastored a church near the Orinoco River. I last visited with him in San Félix, in the early part of this century. It was a most happy meeting. He passed away this year. The world is a better place because of him.

One New Year’s morning, amid the hustle in our kitchen, my father laughed and told us about a report he had just heard on his short wave radio which was tuned to Voice of America. The broadcaster said something along these lines: “Many people went to sleep last night thinking of great resolutions they would embark upon today; many others went to sleep apprehensive about today; many other people lay in bed last night wondering and worrying about what the new year might bring; and a vast number of people went to bed last night as if it were just another night in their lives with nothing special about it at all.”

Thanks to people like Juán el bartender, and Mr. Serrao, and Juán Villanueva, and millions of others unknown but to God, with tombs unremarked and unvisited, “things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been….”

As we stand at the door of a new year, why not determine to be blessings to those with whom we interact, whether family, friends, and even strangers?

With Thomas Gray we can say of those who are unknown, unheralded, and unvisited:

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

….

Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
If Mem'ry o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where thro' the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

….

Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect,
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Thomas Gray, Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard

Although the above stanzas seem sober (because they are), they also serve to bring joy. Our lives serve eternal purposes, regardless of whether or not they are remembered by proud men. God remembers. And that is all that really matters.

I wish you and yours a very happy 2021!