Peace, Love, and Tamales
I read Philip's "Just Playing" blog before bed. His most recent entry discusses tonight's Nighline dead soldier roll call. Faceless soldiers in black marched through my dreams. I couldn't see any facial features, and all I remember is straining, heart racing, trying to see their eyes as they filed past. This seems a good as place as any to start my story.
Avon Ladies don't have assigned districts these days. You can sell to anyone you like, regardless of where she (and the stray he) lives. I live in San Diego's North County, close to the Marine's Camp Pendleton, so some of my new customers are Marine wives. You can often tell these women by their home - lots of flags, photos of hubby in uniform, and proximity to the base.
Avon has several brochures active during each two-week campaign. The regular book contains all the signature Avon beauty and makeup items, jewelry, and seasonal gift items. The Wellness catalogue illustrates homeopathic remedies, chakra aligning sets (I kid you not!), reflexology equipment and the like. Finally, the Inspirational Treasures brochure, a thin book in soft colors, has pages filled with Christian figurines, bibles, and tiny gold-plated crosses.
A few of my Marine wife customers ordered travel bibles to send to their men overseas, all of whom march with the troops in Iraq. They also order Bug Guard insect repellent and lip balm for care packages.
I thought of these ladies before bed last night. Last week Nancy, a ready to pop pregnant wife with luxurious long chestnut hair, asked me what I thought about the war in Iraq. Her man is a Sargeant, and his photo displays a handsome young man with piercing green eyes and a lop-sided smile.
"I'm a buddhist." My voice seemed too loud for the room. "I believe all beings deserve peace and tolerance. And lipstick." I added that last part to break the tension. Nancy laughed, and as she smiled her unborn baby turned, a graceful wave across her belly.
I took Carroll's suggestion (see comments from a couple days ago), and visited a local playground with my sample bag and brochures. I chose Pio Pico Park, a long and narrow city park that parallels the freeway. I think it's the oldest park in town - it's certainly the grassiest - and children, moms, seniors, and workers rest and play and congregate any given day. The lawn is circled by tall Torrey Pines, and the city tacked up a "Watch for Falling Cones! Warning" sign last year after some lady sued when a pinecone bopped her on the nogan. Sometimes the ice cream truck drives past, playing Pop Goes the Weasel.
I arrived just before lunch. I figured that was a great time to meet people. Sure enough, there were at least eleven moms watching countless pre-school-aged kids slide and climb and run. This is So Cal, and most of the moms are Latina in my section of town. I approached with the latest Avon book held out.
"Would you be interested in an Avon brochure and some free samples?"
A short round women in jeans and a sweatshirt took the book and smiled.
"Ya entiendo," she answered, which means "I don't understand" in Spanish. I've been teaching myself the language but my range is so limited.
"No hablo mucho español," I shrugged my shoulders. That means "I don't speak much Spanish."
I handed over a sample lipstick, a tiny bottle of lilac bubble bath, and a little square sample of Anew facial cream. She nodded and smiled at me and took the samples. I wished I brought some of the Spanish brochures with me.
I made the rounds at Pio Pico, handing out books and snippets of beauty but everyone was Latina and oh so polite and I felt as if I were an Avon mime.
Emptied of brochures and exhausted of samples, I laid in the grass and hoped the ice cream truck would make an appearance.
"Hey Lady!" A little boy ran up to me. The tamale boy. He spends every lunch hour driving around my town with his dad, delivering tamales his mom makes in her kitchen - beef, chicken, or pork. They make special sweet pineapple and cinammon tamales for me and savory potato and bean, because they know I am a vegetarian.
"I have special tamales for you! I'm glad we see you here, you were not at home."
I handed over twenty bucks for two dozen tamales. I look at the plastic bag, all filled with steam and wonderful smells and looked at all the moms and children enjoying the park. Why not? I thought. I handed out a tamale to everyone, keeping one pineapple and one potato for myself. Two of the moms hugged me and laughed.
Avon shmavon. Some days you just need more hugs and tamales.
9:36:22 AM 
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