Lupita, Dario & Death by The River.

How places, people, family and memories change only to fade away before our eyes.

Crosses for Lupita and Dario set by their families near the place where they lost their lives. Photograph by Iván Melicoff Abril©

In 1962 this was a dirt road and a funny story about my father being stranded here for days eating only cinnamon cookies became part of our family history.

My father used to drive an 8-ton truck for his father’s business, selling flour, salt, grains, and other goods across the state. On that occasion, the Sonora River had overflowed onto surrounding creeks. He was unable to cross at this point, between the city of Hermosillo and his town, Cananea. After previously spending one day waiting for the water to lower in the Tahuichopa crossing, he then had to stay two more days here, eating only what was available from the shipment he was carrying: cinnamon cookies.

This is the spot in the Sonora River where my father was stranded for three days in 1962. It was all a dirt road back then. Photograph by Iván Melicoff Abril©

Sixty years later, I traveled with him to Sonora to revisit his long gone journeys. We made the same route only this time out, the road was paved. The drive from Hermosillo to Cananea is about three and a half hours long. Back when this anecdote happened, it took about half a day or more, depending on the weather. The second time around, it took us a good nine hours to make it. We were enjoying the view, stopping here and there as my father remembered more things about the terrain and the times.

A random odd fact I learned on this trip: a weird recluse nicknamed Bear Feet used to live near this crossing; not bear paws, bear feet. It was because he had six toes in each foot, which makes no sense since bears have 5 toes. Except for pandas, but I doubt there was any interest in pandas in rural Mexico in the 60s… He had nothing more than a small cornfield to sustain himself.

My father telling me about a strange recluse nicknamed Bear Feet who lived like a hermit in a cornfield nearby. Photograph by Iván Melicoff Abril©

We also found these crosses in remembrance of a young couple who many years later died here. It’s normal to find crosses along the roads in Mexico. They’re regularly placed there after a car accident. These seemed to be there for another reason. We talked about it for a while and concluded that the couple probably drowned. It made more sense. It was then that it struck me.

My father reads the loving eulogies written on Lupita and Dario’s crosses. Photograph by Iván Melicoff Abril©

The idea of how territory changes not only in geography but also in meaning hit me hard and became this new series, “Erosion”, about how our individual space and understanding of the world changes through time only to fade away right before our eyes.

The reason we were in Sonora in the first place was to celebrate my grandmother’s 100th birthday. Just two days prior, there had been a big gathering where she laughed, joked, sang, and clapped to absolute delight. I hadn’t seen her in years; I hadn’t seen anyone in years. And now I was here, standing in the middle of the road with my 80-year-old father, reading eulogy inscriptions on the crosses of a young couple that died in their 20s.

I understood life was eroding before my eyes.

I had been wanting to make this trip for at least 10 years. Why did it take so long? How is it that life moves so fast? Or is it that I move so slow? Even worse, would I’ve made this trip if my grandmother hadn’t turned 100?

I went on this road trip thinking I’d bring back some “gems from the past”, memories as magical postcards of life from a distant era. Instead, I found myself firmly grounded in a present that I’d been utterly oblivious to. It was as if ghosts had put up blatant picket signs so I could finally see. Here! You moron! Here! This is where your time goes! It goes in the ground never to be seen again!

Dario’s cross has her name and Lupita’s has his name.

Dario Armando

Your passing hurts us deeply, but we know that wherever you are, you love each other. We lovingly remember you, sweeties.

From your mother-in-law and little brothers-in-law.

Guadalupe Yadira

Your matrimony was always exemplary and loved each other so much that not even death could part you. And we’ll always love you. Mommy and brothers.

Please excuse my translation, these inscriptions read more loving in their original language, Spanish :

Dario Armando

Nos Duele mucho su partida, pero sabemos que dónde quiera que estén se siguen amando, con cariño recordamos a los amorcitos. Recuerdo de tu suegra y cuñaditos.

Guadalupe Yadira

Fueron siempre un matrimonio ejemplar y se amaron tanto que ni la muerte los pudo separar. Y siempre los amaremos, tu mami y hermanos.

I used to fondly remember the Cinnamon Cookies anecdote, now I love it for the “epiphany” from this past trip. I’m grateful I could see and walk in the actual crossing where it all took place so long ago. Not even my father thought he’d ever set foot there again, but sixty years, a 2-hour flight and a 4-hour drive later, we made it. And there to greet our fun anecdote were Dario and Lupita.

I’m glad we won’t ever regret missing out on driving up there.

My father walking towards the river, remembering how high the water was back in 1962 when he got stranded. Photograph by Iván Melicoff Abril©

From my family series “Erosion”, reflecting on how places, people, family and memories change only to fade away before our eyes. Cananea, Sonora. Mexico.

(1) Crosses by the side of the road near the river crossing where Lupita & Dario died.
(2) Sonora River crossing where my father was stranded in 1962.
(3) My father points in the direction where an odd recluse — a man they called Bear Feet- lived off his small cornfield.
(4) My father reads the eulogy written on the crosses by the road.
(5)My father remembering the how high the water levels were the day he got stranded.