| | | “...physically lugging it...”
Reminds me of a couple of stories.
First:
My dad taking a briefcase-full of Mexican Centenarios to a bank to pay off a construction loan for our new swanky house. By foot. In the middle of a not-yet-entirely-civilized Mexican city.
Well, the weight of the coins started to destroy the briefcase. So he had to hug it to keep the coins from spilling all over the street.
Eye-witnesses must've really thought he was nuts, penguin-walking around a Mexican city while hugging a briefcase, which was actually full of beautiful gold coins.
Good grief, if the briefcase had given way...
Second:
My great-grandfather, like yours, was quite a character. Through hook and crook, he became an arms dealer during the Mexican Revolution of 1910. He resided in the Big Bend of Texas, smack dab on the border. As close as you can be. He’d sell weapons and ammo to anyone, revolutionary or federal, who could pay in gold or cattle. A minor historical figure, but I feel that I know him because I’ve done somewhat of a study of him.
He loved gold. My grandfather, who was a green youth at the time, told wonderful stories about his father assigning to him the job of going into wild-ass Mexico in the early 1900s to collect gold (not cows) in payment of arms and ammo.
I’m not sure how true the stories were, but they fired up my imagination. And I don't care, true or not, they’re real to me.
Gold, the common thread.
Oh, and cows.
And a wonderful musical interlude to end the day. With translation.
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