Michael had a bad motorcycle accident in which it was a miracle he survived. The kick stand of a friend's bike came down at 60 mph on the curvy road north of Oracle, Arizona, and he went airborne and corkscrewed himself into a bank. Crushed a bunch of vertebrates. Long rehab but he could still walk with a cane.
Now, 23 years later, he's in a wheelchair due to a slow growing cyst that is squeezing his spinal cord. He meditates to deal with the chronic pain, instead of using drugs. He's a quiet gentle man with a very dry sense of humor and a deep spiritual side. He's the best listener I know. He's one of my best friends.
We have just eaten dinner at El Minuto, a small Mexican restaurant near the Convention Center in Tucson. As we leave, we go outside to visit El Tiradito, an old shrine, supposedly the only holy shrine in America dedicated to a sinner.
The shrine sits in a vacant lot next to El Minuto, consisting of the ruined remains of a house with only the back brick wall still standing. On this night, as on any night, many candles burn, and tokens, photographs and gifts are laid on and around the back wall. So many candles have burned there over the decades that the old wax has made a large black pad of the ground.
There are many stories regarding how the shrine came to be, but Itend to believe the story a Yaqui Indian I used to work with, told me. Then again, he did have a habit of teaching me Spanish cuss words and then telling me they were polite greetings.
The story goes that in the 1800's, a young man fell in love with his wife's mother. His father in law found out about the affair and killed him at this house. Since he was a sinner in the eyes of the church, for being in love (and probably having sex) with his mother-in-law, he couldn't be buried on consecrated ground at the nearby Roman Catholic Church's cemetery. Legend has it that he was buried under the front porch of this house. The house is mostly gone now as is the porch, but he is supposedly still here, presumably completely covered in melted wax by now. Many women of the community took pity on the young man's soul, and came and prayed for his soul. It's said it was quite a vigil and went on for years and years. (Sometime I wonder if the prayers of those women were simply 'Please God, don't have my own son-in-law fall in love with me.')
Then over time, men and women would come and pray at this site, not for the murdered lover, but for people that had become lost to them. Maybe they didn't know where a loved one physically was, or they were lost to addictions and in darkness of some kind, or just lost because they were lost. No matter. They came and they prayed.
Now, so many years later, people come and pray and bring candles and small photographs and bright flowers and little tokens to the shrine. It is said that if you bring a tall votive candle and pray for something or someone, your prayer will come true if the candle burns all the way down. A gift that I and others do, is go to El Tiradito when we are in the area and relight the blown out candles. For me, it's not because I'm a great guy. It's just that if I have a candle burning, I would want someone to relight my candle for me.
Michael and I were taking in El Tiradito, the wax, the candles, the blackened back wall, the little objects,when I brought up my upcoming plans to go back to art school and my doubts about doing it. I was working at the time as a substance abuse counselor at a prison, and to go to photography school would require that I give up my three day weekend (poor baby) and go to school on Saturday. I was concerned that I wouldn't be able to do both well, for the prison took a lot out of me, but then again, I really wanted to learn how to print black and white film onto black and white paper. (Up to that point I was shooting only color transparencies). I was hemming and hawing when Michael suddenly said, "It will change your life."
"Pardon me?" I said.
"It will change your life" Michael said again. The same five words.
"It will change my life going and learning how to print?"
"Yep."
"Wow, you usually aren't that demonstrative, Michael."
"I know, but it will change your life."
I laughed.
Michael and I have laughed often about that night. It was 8 years ago. Prior to that night, an image of mine of El Tiradito had won a Blue Ribbon at the Pima County Fair, and I had been in a show or two. That's about it since college in 1979. Now, I have a great art representative; I had a one man show in the Spring, and I just got back from Atlanta, where they flew me out to do an art installation of alfalfa, Christmas lights, music and images for a conference on mythology. Taking that black and white photo printing class at Pima Community College in 1997 has, well, changed my life.