Daddy did a lot of work for Pemex,  Mexico’s National Oil Company. His travels in Mexico were extensive and included a per diem allowance sufficient to pay for Mother’s company. On this occasion,, they had been traveling for weeks deep into Mexico, and Mother had begun to complain about being surrounded by non English speakers. She had been in Mexico for at least three weeks had yet to stay in any place where anyone else spoke English. Daddy says she started every morning with a complaint about having nobody to talk to. And every morning he repeated that she should have known that you can’t spend a month in central Mexico and expect to find a lot of other Americans.

Things moved along like this for a couple of more days until they reached the state of Oaxaca.  On about their third day, they got their usual argument out of the way, and prepared to check out. Mother was the first one dressed and had gone down to the lobby for coffee and to wait for Daddy. When he stepped off the elevator, Mom immediately went to his side and, pulling him over, whispered, “Harlan, I think I’m beginning to understand Spanish.” She indicated a group of Mexican tourists standing around the check-in desk.  With a proud smile and dancing eyes she said, “I’ve been listening to them, and I understand what they’re saying.” He listened a minute before saying, “Damn, Doris, you ought to understand them; they’re speaking English.”