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. He got a lot of mileage out of that simple gesture; I could see that Margrethe was pleased. But they don't teach that grace in Kansas. My loss.
Mazatlбn is on a peninsula; the Coast Guard station is on the south shore not far from the lighthouse (tallest in the world -impressive!); the American consulate is about a mile away across town at the north shore, straight down Avenida Miguel Alemбn its entire length - a pleasant walk, graced about halfway by a lovely fountain.
But Margrethe and I were barefooted.
Sergeant Dominguez did not suggest a taxi - and I could not.
At first being barefooted did not seem important. There were other bare feet on that boulevard and by no means all of them on children. (Nor did I have the only bare chest.) As a youngster I had regarded bare feet as a luxury, a privilege. I went barefooted all summer and put on shoes most reluctantly when school opened.
After the first block I was wondering why, as a kid, I had always looked forward to going barefooted. Shortly thereafter I asked Margrethe to ask Sergeant Roberto, please, to slow down and let me pick my way for maximum shade; this pesky sidewalk is frying my feet!
(Margrethe had not complained and did not - and I was a bit vexed with her that she had not. I benefited constantly from Margrethe's angelic fortitude---and found it hard to live up to.)
From there on I gave my full attention to pampering my poor, abused, tender pink feet
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