Eight-night search for room at the inn,
Dec 15, 2006

The spirit of Christmas takes to the streets with the festive tradition of the posada. The nightly re-enactments of the pilgrimage of Mary and Joseph from Nazareth to Bethlehem take place from December 16 through December 24 at churches and family homes in most colonias.

The posada is favorite family tradition that involves singing, sharing and playfulness. Groups wait outside the posada hosts’ homes, asking for lodging. They are refused several times before being welcomed inside for hot fruit punch or atole, tamales and sugar cane. Children are treated to a fruit- and candy-filled piñata.

In San Miguel, the public posadas are organized by the Education and Cultural Department, headed by Verónica Agundis. “The first posada will be on Saturday, December 16, and it will leave from the Parroquia at 7pm,” said Agundis. The queen and princesses of the Fiestas Patrias will also participate in the pilgrimage, which will take a route through Correo, Murillo, Núñez, Calzada de la Presa and Acamapixtle, returning along Homobono, Puente de Umarán, Colegio and Mesones, ending at La Salud church. “Along the way, we will sing a song asking for lodging (supposedly sung by Saint Joseph), and residents may give aguinaldos (small packets of candy), if they wish, to the pilgrims,” said Agundis.

The second posada is on Sunday, December 17, and it also begins at 7pm. It will depart from La Salud and go down Hernández Macías, Calzada de la Luz and Loreto, ending on Insurgentes at the Santa Ana church. Every night thereafter through December 23, a posada will depart from a different chuch at 7pm. “We do not do the last posada on December 24 because nobody comes,” explained Agundis.

Posadas program

Public Posadas, 7pm

Saturday, December 16. First Posada: Leaves from La Parroquia and passes along Correo, Murillo, Núñez, Calzada de la Presa, Acamapixtle, Homobono, Puente de Umarán Colegio and Mesones, ending at Templo de la Salud.



Sunday, December 17. Second Posada: Leaves Templo de la Salud and passes along Mesones, Hernández Macías, Calzada de la Luz, Loreto and Insurgentes, ending at Santa Ana church.



Monday, December 18. Third Posada: Leaves Santa Ana church, passing down Insurgentes, Hidalgo, Canal, Zacateros, Ancha de San Antonio, Orizaba, 28 de Abril and Tinajitas, ending at the Parroquia San Antonio.



Tuesday, December 19. Fourth Posada: Leaves from the Parroquia San Antonio and passes along Ancha de San Antonio, Codo, Tenerías, Terraplén, Díaz de Sollano, Correo and Corregidora, ending at San Francisco church.



Wednesday, December 20. Fifth Posada: Leaves San Francisco church and passes down Corregidora, Recreo, Hospicio, Cuadrante, Hernández Macías, Canal, Beneficencia and San Rafael, ending at San Juan de Dios church.



Thursday, December 21. Sixth Posada: Leaves San Juan de Dios church, passing down San Antonio Abad, Canal, puente de Guanajuato, Avenida Guadalupe and Insurgentes, ending at the Oratorio.



Friday, December 22. Seventh Posada: Leaves the Oratorio and passes along Pepe Llanos, Juárez, San Francisco, Relox, Calzada de la Luz and Calzada de la Aurora, ending at La Herradura de la Aurora.



Saturday; December 23. Eighth Posada: Leaves from La Aurora and passes along Heroico Colegio Militar, Francisco González Bocanegra, Volanteros, Quebrada, Umarán and Zacateros, ending at Templo de las Monjas.

Christmas garage sale & sweater drive at the Biblioteca Pública

Don’t forget the Biblioteca’s Christmas sale, including art, appliances, jewelry, decorations, and other treasures on Saturday, December 16, from 10am to 1pm in the library patio.

Also remember the season’s cold weather hits the rural families harder than most. A donation of a sweater, jacket or blanket can make this Christmas warmer for a sanmigulense. To make a donation look for Irineo, head of the Biblioteca security, at the main entrance.

And for some traditional fun join us at the Biblioteca Pública Posada, Monday, December 18, 5pm, Insurgentes 25.

Sareda Milosz, a life fully lived

Longtime San Miguel resident Sareda Milosz passed away after many years battling cancer on Friday, December 8, at her brother Richie’s home in Nevada. Sareda came to San Miguel in the 1970s and immediately began participating fully in the community, from supporting orphans and animals to engaging in theater projects and writing. On two occasions she was the editor of Atención San Miguel. In memory of Sareda, Atención reprints the following article that appeared in the June 2, 2006 issue. 

Readers are invited to send their remembrances of Sareda to Atención for publication in the December 22 issue. All emails must be received by Monday, December 18, at edit@atencionsanmiguel.org 

Sareda’s toughing it out 
By Lou Christine

Sareda Milosz is dying. It’s no secret. Sareda knows it. I know it. Her family and friends are coming to grips with it. She’s aware of this impending article. She’s well into the late rounds in an uphill battle, but she’s hanging in there.

The effects from procedures and therapies, along with the illness itself, have taken their toll. Sareda’s weak and emaciated. Sareda has no choice but to go the distance while coming to terms with the inevitable. Despite the dreary prognosis she holds fast to a glint of “hope springs eternal.”

The malignant melanoma was diagnosed back in 1998. Surgery, chemo, radiation and every other “-ation” connected to medical science haven’t been able to turn the tide. She’s been treated on both sides of the border, often commuting back and forth from here to Nevada for treatment and to be near family. 

She’s now here in San Miguel, and it’s for good. There will be no more probing, no more procedures or the dread of going back under the knife. Sareda says, “Thank goodness that part is over.”

Pragmatically, she sees this moment as a pocket of time and space, to reflect and savor what she can. Long ago she sold the car. If her strength is up, and it’s not too hot, Sareda enjoys a stroll through Centro. 

These days, those pleasant interludes are fewer and fewer. “Seventy-five percent of the time I feel lousy … I’m often nauseous. The pain’s mostly in my abdomen. It’s the toughest part. It’s more frequent …, ” she says while catching her breath between painful rounds. During the most challenging moments she prefers to go it alone, riding it out and holding on until the next breather.

Admired for her upfront honesty, Sareda has overtly addressed her plight: “When I was first diagnosed I never felt more alive. I was willing to fight. The first few years weren’t so bad.” Still, she has no regrets. She’s proud how she’s chosen her own life path, like when she threw caution to the wind, passed on financial security and embarked into the unknown. Perhaps such reflection tempers the many medicines’ bilious aftertaste. She’s satisfied with the ride, what she’s seen and with the essence of her existence. Those aspects within the bouquet of life leave a better taste in her mouth.

She brays some, too. Why not? Her aspirations to write lie dormant. Says she’s lost desire. “If I were healthy I’d love to be involved in local media.… Even this—I’d even write about my fix, since it’s something you don’t hear much about. I’d write what it’s like dealing with cancer, but unfortunately I haven’t the strength.”

A portrait of Sareda during healthier times is one of an independent, friendly lady with energy, enthusiasm, talent and moxie. She’s known for having quick wit and possessing a delicious, warped sense of humor. She has always rooted for the underdog and stood up for the little guy. She’s as tough as a tow truck driver if challenged and as tender as a pediatrician when called for. She’s always been hands-on and a welcomed collaborator among her peers. 

Sareda Milosz was part of the flamboyant wave of colorful nomads who trail-blazed into San Miguel during the late ’70s and early ’80s. Sareda escaped the trappings of the rat race north of the border and serendipitously discovered Mexico. 

Right away she embraced Mexico’s language and culture and involved herself in journalism and theater. She became a tireless volunteer. Born Sareda Goux Ludwig on June 19, 1946, in San Francisco, California, her father was Jewish, from Russian extraction, and her mother was Swedish-American. 

She and her younger brother, Richie, were extremely close, and they shared a love of the theater and a joint scatological sense of humor that continues to this day. 

The family was basically not religiously observant but otherwise was extremely strict. They lived in upscale Woodside, a suburb on the Bay Area’s peninsula. Strict family discipline erased any sense of privilege. No potato chips or candies or sodas—these were addictions. The family had a swimming pool that was mostly off-limits to her and Richie.

In high school, Sareda developed the two lifelong loves: journalism and theater. She acted and edited the school paper, attended U.C. Berkeley and earned a B.A. in journalism. Always a prolific and diverse writer, she even contributed to Catholic periodicals.

After graduating, in the tumultuous sixties, she married Tony, the bad-boy son of a Polish émigré poet. Later on, in 1980, her father-in-law, Czeslaw Milosz, was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature.

Tony and Sareda lived an alternative lifestyle where heavy partying was part of the makeup. After seven years it finally sunk in that the party was over; they amicably divorced yet are on friendly terms.

Surprising in one so talented and educated, Sareda opted to work at the US Post Office. During the time, having to eat and pay bills out-paced flower power. Busted-out hippies found employment within San Francisco’s postal system. Sareda found the job perfect. Despite the divorce her party mode was still intact, providing her a lifestyle of burning the candle at both ends. She socialized into the wee hours, then shook it off and showed up at 5am to sort and deliver mail. 

Sareda speaks fondly about her postal career. She discovered something invigorating and social. The job was mostly outdoors and offered good exercise. The money was considered good, and she was building up a pension. She saved money and bought and sold several houses, which enabled her eventually to move to Mexico while in her mid-30s. 

In the late ’70s Sareda took an unexpected vacation in Puerto Vallarta. The trip left an immediate impact, wiping away any previous perceptions about Mexico. For Sareda, Mexico’s atmosphere and mannerisms meshed with her own lust for life. It was an eye-opener. Sareda marveled that someone could actually go into a farmacia and buy just one band aid, or one aspirin or just one cigarette. The simplicity of everyday Mexican life she found refreshing, much more so than the super-sizing taking place back in her society. Returning to Oakland, she sold her house, tidied up affairs, and moved to Puerto Vallarta. 

Immediately she tackled Spanish, not just the formal version but the offbeat puns, and slang, mostly lipped on esquinas, during street talk. Although modest about her bilingual talents, during healthier times many tapped her for translation.

Later on, Sareda visited San Miguel and instantly fell in love with this old town. Puerto Vallarta was great, but San Miguel presented an additional appeal: a sense of community, a trait lacking in transient beach towns such as PV. 

Sareda immersed herself in Playreaders and the Player’s Workshop and contributed articles and proofread for Atención. Countless hours were spent working at Don Bosco’s and Betsy Schell’s orphanages. A true sucker for street animals, she’s unable to ignore a sickly or deserted dog or cat. She’d whisk them home, fatten them up, and then find them caring homes. Even today, despite her illness, Sareda has her four dogs and two cats.

Sareda has had two runs at the editorship at Atención. Past contributors attest that she’s been a terrific editor. She employed her special knack while remaining on the same page as authors; with a keen sense, she supported the writers, figuring out their slant and what they were trying to convey even though their angle may not have been apparent in original drafts. Sareda worked her magic by inserting more appropriate word choices, tinkered some with phrasing and, most of all, did so without the authors losing their original voice. 

Sareda quit Atención the first time. She did so in a huff, culminating a dispute with the Biblioteca’s board. She had gone to bat, or should we say gone to war, by peppering the Biblioteca’s board with the logic that a long-time employee deserved a proper raise. Her replacement didn’t work out. She was asked back. Nevertheless, her earlier stance substantiated an eagerness to perpetuate justice and reward loyalty. Her second stint showed a Sareda less likely to bite her tongue. Familiar disagreements persisted. She was terminated after little more than a year.

Her beef with the board had little effect on the surface and didn’t dampen her spirits when it came to community service. She served as the local president of PEN, a worldwide organization supporting writers who have been censored or imprisoned. Good causes, human rights and activities involving the healthy state of children and animals remained high on Sareda’s dance card. Her face and voice added flavor to local theater. Directors counted on her uncanny talent to mimic. She delighted audiences by imitating accents in an over-exaggerated manner, or by going kinetic, comically copy-catting a character’s supposed body language. 

Sareda also re-entered the world of local publishing and founded El Independiente, a biweekly San Miguel bilingual newspaper focusing on cultural events. Issues concerning both the Mexican and expatriate community were front and center. The paper enjoyed a strong local readership, but financially a biweekly wasn’t feasible. She and her team didn’t want to take on the heavier workload to produce a weekly. The paper self-terminated after two years, in 2000.

Sareda went on to write for magazines and moonlighted as San Miguel’s correspondent for El Universal. 

Until recently, Sareda remained committed to theater as both an actor and proficient producer. She remains on the board of directors of the Players Workshop.

Her yeoman’s work at orphanages hasn’t gone unnoticed. She visited frequently, socialized with kids and staff, contributed clothes and food (often that favorite, pizza) and kicked in any extra money that came her way. 

All those times and events are behind her now. How much time Sareda has left is anybody’s guess. She’s slugging it out. She no longer possesses a knock-out punch to beat this thing. Those she’s helped and those who love Sareda would cherish the chance to jump into the ring with her and help her fight the fight, but that’s out of the question; she’s in this alone. Other than the Almighty, no referee will mercifully step in to stop this bout. She’s prepared. Everything’s in order. The 24-Hour Society has her last wishes. She still smiles, still laughs and can talk up a storm when she has the strength. She loves life and loves people and her animals. There are no more time-outs, and she can’t be saved by the bell—yet Sareda fights on.

(Author’s note: My desire to write this article about Sareda last summer was to highlight her life while she was still with us. My primary concern was that Sareda would appreciate my effort. After the article was published, Sareda’s approving phone call to me not only warmed my heart but was also a stamp of approval from one of my favorite editors. Like those who knew her, I will miss her. Throughout her ordeal Sareda remained courageous, honest, fair, extraordinarily talented, tougher than tough, funny as all get out, kind, compassionate and smart as the dickens. Did I mention she had guts?)


Lou Christine is a local writer and long-time contributor to Atención. Special thanks to Sareda’s good friend, Melanie Nance, for contributing to this article.

San Miguel mourns the loss of Nancy Underwood

Memorial service for Nancy Underwood Saturday, December 16, 11am St. Paul’s Church, Cardo 6

Nancy Underwood died November 26 from complications of skin cancer and salmonella. Nancy was the wife of the former rector of St. Paul’s, Dean Underwood. She had a beautiful alto voice and sang in St. Paul’s choir for over 20 years. Nancy and Dean, often along with their daughter, Robin Diaz, led popular and enriching tours on behalf of St. Paul’s.

Nancy’s innate way of sharing her love, of positive determination and spirited energy will be missed in San Miguel, La Manzanilla and her native California.

Her memorial service will include the Holy Eucharist, accompanied by St. Paul’s choir. All are invited to a reception afterward in the parish hall.

Border Crossings seeks sponsors for Reyes Magos party

This is an invitation to everyone in the community who would like to “adopt,” or sponsor, a boy or girl for their “Christmas party,” Fiesta de Reyes Magos (Three Kings Party) that will take place at noon on Saturday, January 6, on the patios of the Mexiquito orphanage (on the left as you leave town on the Salida a Dolores Hidalgo).

For many years, Border Crossings has held a very special celebration on this day for all the children of Casa Hogar Mexiquito, Don Bosco and Santa Julia orphanages. The management and staff of Border Crossings would like to take this opportunity to invite you to participate with us this year. 

Border Crossings hosts the party with food, refreshments, entertainment, piñatas and the Three Kings themselves, who deliver the donated gifts to the children. Come and join the party and watch the children’s faces fill with joy as they realize that they have been remembered.

If you find you do not wish to sponsor a particular child, you may leave your donations toward the fiesta in the special donations box at Border Crossings, located at Mesones 57A.

Thank you for helping bring smiles of delight to the children!

Border Crossings Management & Staff

The penguin in the park

How can he be so strong and yet so sweet? Is it possible to encounter him without smiling, or even laughing out loud? Far from his native habitat, he gives new meaning to the southeastern corner of Parque Juárez.

“El Penguino,” the creation of artist Gerry Gill, is the most recent sculpture installed in the park. Gill’s generous donation is the eleventh sculpture to be installed in the new Parque Juárez sculpture garden.

The scattered sculptures are a welcome accent to the newly renovated, 100-year-old French-style park.