It’s always been one of my favorite words in the English language. Such a simple, solid, down to earth, and unadorned two-syllable word: Sturdy. 

When I was younger especially, I often thought if anyone ever asked me to describe myself in one word, I would have answered loudly and proudly, “STURDY.” That would have been my highest self-praise. Looks have never mattered much to me — outward appearances being too superficial and ultimately fleeting. But sturdiness, the inner kind in particular, can endure. At eighty now, shrunken and thin, I’m not as physically sturdy as I used to be. But my inner sturdiness, I like to think, still lurks inside.

Personal sturdiness to me has meant taking life’s blows and not being K.O.’d by them; not giving up or giving in, not jumping off a bridge (when things were particularly unbearable) and not allowing myself to live under one. To be sturdy, I think, requires a great deal of stubbornness, and (being a Taurus) I’ve been blessed with a lot of that.

(Stock photo)

That stubbornness – and refusal to live under a bridge as an older, single, self-supporting retired American woman who would otherwise not be able to afford to live in the U.S. on her Social Security income plus meagre savings – led me to retire to Mexico ten years ago. I count this bold move as one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

In the ten years I’ve been writing this WOW blog from San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, I’ve often written about the ways I’ve come to deeply love this country and its people and how grateful I feel to be a permanent resident here. But looking back over my 548 blogposts so far, I see I haven’t used the word “sturdy” to describe Mexico as much as I could or should have. I’d like to fix that.

As someone who strives to follow world news, drawn from a number of responsible, reliable sources every day, I can say that from this distance the U.S.A. appears to be on very shaky ground – let’s call it shifting sand — led by a mercurial man who blows with the wind like an untethered helium balloon. The insecurity and uncertainty most Americans are feeling right now is justified, and it’s reverberating throughout the world. The most powerful man on earth, drunk on this power, is flailing around, wielding a wrecking ball, like an out-of-control alkie. And as someone who grew up with a flailing alcoholic father, I know what that kind of insecurity feels like.

In contrast, though, despite the bad press Mexico sometimes gets north of the border, I can attest to the fact that Mexico and its people are admirably, enviably, and, it appears, inherently, sturdy. There’s something solid and enduring about this country that makes me feel, as I walk miles every day in this old city in Mexico’s central mountains, that I’m walking on truly solid ground.

Mexico is old and wise – and now led by a smart and sober woman, President Claudia Sheinbaum, PhD (the fourth most powerful woman in the world, according to Forbes), which to me proves the country’s wisdom. Just read a few good books on Mexico’s history (I especially recommend FIRE AND BLOOD, by American historian T. R. Fehrenbach), and you’ll be amazed by all that the region has been through over its more than three millennia-long history, from Mesoamerica to today. Wars, invasions, conquests, revolutions, economic crises…  And yet it’s survived them all and is now thriving. As indigenous peoples quietly say about their survival: “They tried to bury us; they didn’t know we were seeds.”

“A writer,” 19^th century American novelist Henry James once wrote (and writing programs have not stopped repeating), “is someone on whom nothing is lost.” Writers take note. Writers observe. Writers pay attention.

Since early childhood I’ve been a quiet people-observer, especially when hanging out at classmates’ homes, studying their family dynamics. Did their mothers cook as well as mine did? (No.) Were their fathers as scary as mine  was? (No.) And ever since then I’ve tried to observe others in order to get a better perspective on the reality around me.

Here in San Miguel too, then, on my daily walks in this sunny springlike weather over these past ten years, I’ve been observant — because I am a writer and this is my watchful nature. And what I’ve observed and experienced, above the sensuality of its colors, sounds, fragrances and tastes — is the solidity, the sturdiness, of this place and its people. Here are just a few examples:

I see building construction going on almost everywhere I look – private homes, condo complexes, luxe hotels – to accommodate the ever-expected influx of visitors and expats drawn to this highly attractive destination. The sturdy Mexican men working at these sites are unsung heroes to me, artists in their own right, who deserve applause.

They work together indefatigably from eight to about six every weekday like well oiled machines. I listen to them, their hammering, drilling, welding, talking, laughing, whistling, singing (never arguing or shouting) as if it were music. 

These are good, hardworking, family men who take pride in their work. I am in awe of them. Look at what they can do, I think: With their strong backs and hands they build sturdy homes – havens – in this world for people to live happily in — even outsiders like me.

And, I’ve observed, the fabric of Mexican families is particularly strong and enduring. The littlest ones are held close, not pushed in strollers. Older children walk beside their loving adults, always holding hands, carrying on attentive conversations, which I love to overhear. Couples – of all ages, including same-sex couples – walk hand in hand and even smile at each other and kiss. Family bonds appear to be unbreakable. For Mexicans, family, with all its flaws, comes first.

My apartment here overlooks a children’s park, where young families gather. The children squeal delightedly and run around tirelessly. If a child falls, I’ve observed, she doesn’t cry. Her mom, watching from the sidelines, doesn’t rush to her aid. Instead, the little girl giggles, gets up, and runs to catch up with her siblings and amigas. Sturdy Mexicans learn resilience early. Just another hallmark of a culture that survives and thrives.