Immigrant

I am now an immigrant, along with Amy. We have “Residente Permanente” visas from Mexico. It all happened rather suddenly but a huge change is happening to us. 

During travels over the past 15 years occasionally a thought would come that I might move from the USA—to Italy, to Thailand, or Ecuador. Amy and I have been married three years and after a trip to Oaxaca I casually looked online at properties down there and found one that grabbed me from head to foot with a price tag that, compared to similar properties here in Santa Fe, was an absolute steal. (See: Mexican Home)
That was over a year ago. Now we own the home and property—outright. It is our dream home and 3 times as much space as we currently have. We can live there for about 1/4 the monthly cost we are currently spending, in a culturally rich region with pleasant climate and easy access back to the USA. Our realtor, John, (see Real Estate Oaxaca) said it is the nicest home he has sold. (Does he say that to all his clients?) His partner said it has "soul".
Further, I have found most of my income is coming from sales of my work online. Amy and I now have better studios, a wonderful home and can continue being creative—expanding into new venues as well. All the while sharing our work online worldwide. 

In order to qualify to move all our belongings into Mexico (one time) without hassles and taxes, and also get free medical and dental care, as well as easy access in and out of the country, we needed a special visa. To begin, we found the nearest Mexican consulate. It is located in Albuquerque, New Mexico, an hour drive south of Santa Fe. They informed us of the requirements to start the process:
• Fill the Application
• Copy of passport (NOT EXPIRED) and COPIES of all the pages that have any visas or stamps.
• 1 passport size photo
• Past 12 months of bank statements (checking’s/savings)
• Social security administration letter with monthly income if applicable
• Pension income letter if applicable
• Proof of purchased property in Mexico, Escrituras, if applicable
• Letter from the bank, stating NAME, ACCOUNT NUMBER/S, LENGTH OF THE TIME YOU HAVE BEEN BANKING WITH THEM (MUST BE IN A BANK LETTERHEAD & SIGNED BY A BANK OFFICIAL).
• Typed letter stating reason for wanting to obtain a temporary or permanent visa (MUST BE SIGNED BY YOU & 1 PAGE MINIMUM)

•Marriage certificate if applicable (ORIGINAL)            

  
Once our application was approved, our passports were given a special stamp. We were told that we had 30 days (from our first entry into Mexico) to obtain our official “green” cards. On January 31 we flew to Oaxaca and six days later returned to Santa Fe—new homeowners and with our residente permanente cards.

To end this story, let me say that lately, every evening, Amy and I have been watching a program called Finding Your Roots on the PBS website Thirteen; “Presented and written by Professor Henry Louis Gates Jr., this series journeys deep into the ancestry of a group of remarkable individuals and provides new understanding of personal identity and American history.”  I have gained an invaluable perspective on the varied diaspora of immigrants that have come to the “new land” of America since before it's beginning as an independent nation. The people that were not slaves, prisoners or indentured servants, came looking for a new start at a better life. They came to escape dire conditions in their homelands and would face any hardship to pursue a dream of renewal and fruition. Often they arrived with nothing, strangers in a strange land, and it is a miracle to see present day descendants of these people discovering their ancestors for the first time on the program.

Me and John

Now, I know firsthand what it is to be a “stranger in a strange land” and feel kinship with all the immigrants of every era. Without our realtor John who is an American fluent in Spanish and lived and worked in Mexico for 36 years, along with his Mexican partner Luis, Amy and I would have been completely lost. We both agree that the hurdles of bureaucracy in Mexico for us—with limited Spanish language capability,  and all the appointments, waiting, and lacking necessary knowledge to attain our goals would have left us feeling helpless. At one point I admitted that without John, I would have given up in exhaustion and walked away from the deposit I made on the house. 

The day before returning to Santa Fe we had breakfast with a young man who has a moving business. We found him honest, eager and straightforward. He is recommended by John, and soon will be coming to Santa Fe to get our goods to take to our new home in Oaxaca.

See: Steven Boone artwork

A Shooting Star

 

The mid wife looked up at me from where my newborn child lay and asked, “Do you want to cut the cord?” It was a special moment in the living room of our little house. The doctor stood nearby and my tired but happy wife lay on her back with the baby on her stomach.

Doctor, at birth of Naomi

Morning light streamed in the bank of windows nearby. I took the scissors offered me and cut the cord—separating mother and child. About a foot of cord stayed attached to my daughter’s navel. I hardly could take my eyes off her, marveling at her perfection. The day: January 11, 1980. 

Newborn

Tomorrow would be her 41st birthday. Naomi died when she was but nineteen.

There are countless mysteries in life, and most of them will not be unravelled. I will have many questions when I cross over to the other side to reunite with Naomi and my ancestors. Then, as I stand in the light of truth and divine love, understanding will be given.

Colored pencil drawing Naomi made hours after learning of her cancer

One mystery that haunts me is the dream I had when Naomi was 12. I woke up with a feeling of extreme sadness and dread and then wrote the details down. It was a marvelous dream in all respect—full of awesome symbols of power and beauty—yet in the end the death of a child occurred. I could not understand its importance and even went to a psychologist to unravel the meaning. I made a painting using its images. Then, when Naomi was diagnosed with terminal cancer at age 17, I thought about the dream again. 

I will carry this mystery with me until the end of my days.

In the dream, which occurs at dusk, after witnessing an amazing flock of birds fly by, I ask for a sign and it is given immediately—a shooting star racing through the evening atmosphere, fiery, fast and bright—just above barren winter tree tops. More events unfold, before the sudden surprise ending that left me gasping when I awoke.

And so too, Naomi’s life was short and bright, for especially in the two years of her struggle at the end, she incandescently shed light as her life burned up. 

I am filled with a wonderful sense of happiness. It is an indescribable sense of utmost freedom and joy. When I am in touch with it I just think, Oh, God, thank you for this beautiful body and life. I have learned how to use THANK YOU throughout everything.
  —Naomi, age 18

The book I wrote about Naomi is available in print and digital edition: A Heart Traced In Sand

Santa Italiano

He called on New Year day around dinner time but my phone was turned off. When I saw I had a message from him, at 10:30 PM, I was surprised and happy. “Gosh, it has been a long time,” I thought. Amazing he is still alive—he must be about 89 years old.

Ralph Caprio, a second generation Italian American, always worked with my father and was a steady presence from the start of my life in Chicago. My father, Richard W. Boone (March 29, 1927 – February 26, 2014), always rose to leadership positions throughout his life, and chose to have Ralph beside him. When our family moved, so did Ralph. 

Handsome and spry, Ralph stayed a bachelor—always with girlfriends. He had style, and effused ebullience.  

All the Boone family loved Ralph. He loved us for the family he never had. In fact, Ralph was our Santa Claus. My parents had five children in eight years. Early on, we were very poor. Living in a tenement on Chicago’s south side, at Christmas, there were meager gifts beneath the tree. Then, on a cold Christmas morning, Ralph would arrive at our door, arms laden with the best presents for us kids. A knock sounded and when the door opened all of us little ones would shout with glee, “Ralph!”

I only had to debate a moment to decide to call him back. I knew it was almost midnight in Chicago on New Year day. I know Ralph has the ability to live on four hours sleep daily, and prefers living that way.

I called back and after a few rings a youthful, familiar voice rang out, “Hey Steve, happy New Year!” He mostly wanted to know how I am. He mentioned that my mother and father would be proud of me and then said, “I love you” before hanging up. 

Amy had been nearby when she heard Ralph answer, and remarked, “Wow, he sounds so youthful and bright!”

Yes, he has always been like that.

Pequeño Paso

 “The more you want, the more you lack.” Five decades after hearing the sentence in my freshman college philosophy class, the words have stayed with me. 

And so it is with all my expectations of living in our home in Mexico. They are desires that simply frustrate me. Amy and I are resigned to make progress, “pequeño paso a pequeño paso” —by little steps.

The Mexican government is not processing visa applications because of covid. 

At least our application will be near the top of the pile of requests. We have made our downpayment and the realtor awaits us in Oaxaca to finish the deal. The house is well cared for. We have plenty of time to pack, and make arrangements for moving. 

We took a sojourn last week, driving south in our wonderful state of New Mexico—visiting places I wanted to return to after many years. Amy had never been to Bosque Del Apache National Wildlife Refuge, or further south to White Sands National Monument. 

Since the city of Las Cruces is close to White Sands, we went and stayed there with dear art collectors of Amy’s—and took time to wander the campus of New Mexico State University where I spent my first two years of college—some fifty years ago when 18 years old. That’s when I took the philosophy course.

On the way back north, we stopped in a town called Truth Or Consequences, then returned to the Bosque where we witnessed at dawn the mass ascension of migrating snow geese from their nighttime roost on water into surrounding fields to forage.

At one point, while taking deep, wonderful breaths at White Sands, I thought, “how can I leave all this beauty?”

Like the snow geese . . . I will go. 

And return again someday.

Pages of a Passport

 “Home is where your passport is.” – Anonymous

From the time Amy sent her passport off to Philadelphia to be updated with her new name, we have thought about it like two lost children. What can we do without it? Neither north nor south, east or west can we venture beyond the borders of America. My gypsy soul felt convoluted. We are buying a home in Mexico. I have made the downpayment and thought that by now, we would perhaps be living in Oaxaca.

Before moving with our belongings, we must apply for and receive a permanent visa from the Mexican consulate nearby in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The documents required must be consistent, and Amy took a new surname when we married—she is now Amy Córdova y Boone. Her bank statements which are required reflect her new name, but other documents do not.

Passports can take up to three months to process, so we paid extra to have it within six weeks. After the first month, we anxiously searched the mailbox for delivery. 

Meanwhile we packed half our belongings into boxes, selling and giving away more. After another two weeks, last Friday the priority packet arrived with Amy’s passport.

The first stamp for her will be Mexico. 

From the 2nd page of US passports: 

"The secretary of State of the United States of America hereby requests all of whom it may concern to permit the citizen/national of the United States named herein to pass without delay or hindrance and in case of need to give all lawful aid and protection."

You can’t have a narrow mind and a thick passport. – Anonymous

Of all the books in the world, the best stories are found between the pages of a passport. – Anonymous

It's Time

 

“No I am not roaming aimlessly

through the alleys and bazaar

I am a lover searching for his beloved”   —Rumi

For years I have been satisfied with enough money in the bank to travel extensively and not worry about a “home”.  After my oldest daughter died at age nineteen my marriage dissolved. My ex-wife bought my share of our home. Debt free, I realized I had lost my sense of having roots. The world called me to explore. Grabbing my art supplies and camera, I took off wandering.

Sometimes, when returning to live in my hometown of Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA, I would go to a beautiful home and think, how wonderful to own property. Then I would search my soul to see if I had desire for such ownership. It wasn’t there.

I have been to the Taj Mahal, the Vatican halls, in mountaintop palaces. And I have been rapturously at peace and content sitting on earthen floors in houses of baked mud in Egypt. I have felt at home on the back of camels in Morocco or on elephants in Thailand. 

Then, impressed by somebody’s home and thinking, “do I want this?” the answer came back no; I have more. The grandness of the earth and its glory is my home.

I rented . . . and could come and go.

When a homeowner, I had always cultivated gardens. Afterward, I noticed an apathy about doing anything “rooted.” Might I be depressed? I wondered. Perhaps the loss of my beloved Naomi had torn me. When she left this earth, some part of me went with her.

I have been with Amy now three years.We married two years ago. For the past two years I have made a summer garden. The feeling of wanting to stop and settle, to be content with small things has come back. 

This week I sent money to a bank account in Germany. It is the downpayment on a home in Oaxaca, Mexico. The German woman who built it lost her partner and decided to move back to her native country. Now, Amy and I are moving from our native country to live in that magical Mexican house we found and love. We will own it outright.

It’s time.

“The world is one country and mankind its citizens”  —Baha’u’llah

Silver Lining

 

I may be frustrated by the pace of our move, but there is a silver lining—we can be more deliberate in our decisions. I haven’t even decided yet how to get our belongings 1700 miles from Santa Fe, New Mexico to Oaxaca, Mexico. The border is closed. We have to have a permanent visa first and it is taking far longer than expected, partly because Amy decided to get a new passport with the name she took after we married.  

Antique for sale

What moving company does this sort of trip? I haven’t gone into the details yet since we have extra time I had not planned on.

The house is furnished, so we could go there and wait for normal times 

to return. Meanwhile rent more storage space.

We have been giving away and selling belongings that had meaning in our lives. I gave to my daughter, who lives an hour away, two large sculpted marble vases I bought in Vietnam, and my beloved 40 year old jade plant. We sold a wonderful, hand carved totem figure Amy bought years ago. As I was driving it to the buyer, it was laying on its back in my van and I felt sacred energy in it and thought, why aren’t we taking this with us? 

Amy was going to sell a masterpiece wood carving made by a Hopi artist. I put my foot down and said, no, that comes with us. But, yes, we are selling eight finely engraved holiday dinner plates (she is keeping three of her favorites.)

It goes like this every day. Fortunately we are getting much done before frigid weather strikes.

Mask from Venice, (has sentimental value to me).

But we know it is coming and we will have to move then.

What Stays, What Goes

Purge. This is what comes to mind frequently these days as Amy and I go through possessions, deciding what stays with us and what goes. Fortunately, we both are veterans of purges from before our marriage a couple years ago. Between the two of us, we have more than we want to take to live in Mexico. So we pack only the most meaningful books, and give away or sell those we may have attachment to but don’t quite reach the highest level of “essential”. This is the same with everything . . . there is some emotional wrenching—like when I just gave away a 40 year old jade plant. It had been with me since before I had children. In fact, it felt like I was giving my child away.

At one point, I gave up expecting certainty about the timeframe for moving. We haven’t bought the home yet, and I expected to have done so by now. But it looks as though this week it will happen. It is not like we are buying a house in our neighborhood. It is in another country. Many things could go wrong. So we have been working carefully with our American realtor who is also a Mexican citizen. His partner is a Mexican lawyer. The owner is a German senior citizen, living in Germany.

We must obtain a permanent residence visa from the Mexican consulate. A lot of paperwork there. Complicating matters is that Amy’s passport has her maiden name, but she changed it after our marriage. So she decided to apply for another passport with her new name.  

Then there is issue of moving our possessions. The border is closed.

I give it all to God. 

Spirit comes to me and gives encouragement. That is enough.

Let Go and Trust

I feel as though I am a sailor and the wind is filling the sails of my vessel, taking Amy and I toward a future we do not totally understand, but is our destiny. In many ways I acknowledge divine assistance, and let go and trust—giving thanks. 

Collector from Scottsdale, Arizona

Since Amy and I decided to move to Mexico, we have announced the closing of The Boone Gallery and begun preparing to leave the USA. Many details are as yet to be concluded, but we are assuming in our near future we will be living in our house in Oaxaca.

People from all over the country have been stepping forward to buy my paintings, especially as I have been offering a one-time discount of about 30%. Collectors have been buying oil paintings before they even dry. One couple from Georgia have bought six and now own nine Boones. Another couple from Texas have bought four, and others from Colorado and Arizona have bought two each. A couple from Albuquerque bought two—and so on.

I wonder at all the activity—and think a combination of factors is at work: The pandemic is making people feel homebound. Perhaps in a moribund environment the chance to enliven their homes is welcoming. A fleeting discount for first quality original oil paintings from an established artist is attractive. October is always a top month for art sales. Who knows if I will be painting the scenes in Mexico?

Collector from Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Whatever the reasons, it is totally satisfying to be shipping out my paintings. Especially as there is no business on the street coming into the gallery— and everything has to come down from the walls in a couple weeks.

Collector from Dallas, Texas

Meanwhile, Amy has been diligently packing our valuables for the long trip south.

To see available work and make an offer, go to: Steven Boone

A Last Kiss Goodbye?

These autumn days, wonderful colors, textures and temperatures beckon to be explored and enjoyed. For decades I have gone up into the mountains above Santa Fe to see the aspen trees during their ten days or so of shimmering golden vesture. This year I felt a tinge of bittersweetness as I drove upward with my art supplies and camera early in the morning on the winding ski road. Soon, Amy and I will be living in Oaxaca, Mexico. Might this be a last kiss goodbye to the place I have called home for over 40 years?

I carried my camera and hiked along a popular trail. Already folks were out enjoying nature. I passed a couple tents and came to a mountain stream, then chose to follow it up the slope. Now I was alone. The trees stood tall all around and the ferns were bursting with color. A small trail meandered nearby, but I chose to stay by the stream, stopping often to photograph the fallen leaves, mossy rocks and the gay stream with the play of light and shadow. My foot slipped into rushing water but I was so absorbed with dazzling nature I only laughed and kept climbing. 

Occasionally I fell out of breath—the elevation is over 10,000 feet. But magnetized by beauty and the pure mountain experience, I felt jubilant. A few times, I spotted a landmark up ahead and said, ”that is where I will stop and turn around.” But the forest beckoned me onward. After awhile, I thought of my paints and canvas and went back. On the way, I found a site I thought would be pleasing for a painting composition.

Gathering my art supplies, I set up and began painting. After twenty minutes, while intently working, I felt something run up my back pant leg. Surprised, I turned to see a chipmunk scurry off. This little creature was a sign from spirit and I spoke to him. After a couple minutes it happened again, and when I looked, two chipmunks stood watching me. They stayed around and when a young man and his father hiked past, the boy stopped and pointed out that a chipmunk stood nearby. I said, “Yes, I know.” 

The painting finished, I felt satisfied and drove the winding road back into town.

After posting the result online, the little aspen painting sold immediately—while still wet with paint.

A Mexican Home

It all seems a dream. About six months ago, I saw a Mexican home listed for sale online. It is on the outskirts of Oaxaca, Mexico. The pictures showed a house Amy and I loved. Furthermore, the price is about 1/4th the cost of a similar home in Santa Fe. We both feel the situation in America is getting too weird, and for the same amount of money, we could live much more lavishly somewhere else. 

Now we are in Oaxaca for a week. Our first visit was to see THE HOUSE. It is as described on the website. Three bedrooms, two studios, two bathrooms, chefs kitchen, plenty of nooks, crannies and storage, extensive grounds with exotic plants and drip irrigation . . . we feel it is for us. The house was built by a socially conscious German couple, who hired the same architect that designed for Lila Downs, a world famous Mexican-American singer who has a home in Oaxaca. When the owner's partner died, she returned to Germany and left the house with a caretaker. 

Amy and I both agree that love surrounds this place and is evident in the fabric of its life. The German woman worked passionately to help rural cooperatives get on their feet. An indigenous caretaker is in the house, and is from an agricultural collective a few hours away that grows coffee, vanilla beans and spices. 

The property is perfect for two artists. We need to make big adjustments to leave our home country but in the end it's worth it. The village is called San Pedro Ixtalahuaca—about 1/2 hour drive from Oaxaca. 

Nothing around but a church, school, and a few tiny shops. 

The house and land is ringing our bell. Now to decide.

(Note: Since writing this post, amy and I have bought the home and are preparing to move there.)