2418 W. Colorado Ave.
Colorado Springs, CO  80904
800-731-3908
www.michaelgarman.com
The Michael Garman Museum & Gallery Newsletter
September 25th, 2014
Issue No. 29
In This Issue
Fallen Firefighters Memorial
Featured Selection: Upcoming Events at The Michael Garman Museum & Gallery
Adventures of a Vagabond Sculptor: The Sweetest Girls in the World, El Salvador
Greetings!
 
The next edition of Adventures of a Vagabond Sculptor is here. In 2014, we are telling some of Michael Garman's lesser-known stories from his travels through South America.  This month we follow Michael Garman as he embarks on a two-year vagabond journey through Central and South America. 
 
We would  also like to honor the families and firefighters remembered in this year's Fallen Firefighters Memorial.
 
This year, the IAFF honored 168 firefighters who gave their lives in the line of duty at the Annual Fallen Firefighters Memorial in Colorado Springs.  
It was our honor to meet with the families and Firefighter brothers of the fallen this year and help them honor these incredible American Heroes.  
Click HERE to learn more about the upcoming re-design of the Fallen Firefighters Memorial in 2015 that will enable the IAFF to honor 3,469 additional firefighters who had fallen in the line of duty from 1918 to 1975.
Upcoming Events at 
The Michael Garman Museum & Gallery:

 

 October 3rd, 5:00-8:00pm

October 1-31
Open to students ages 4-18.
Call for more details.
The Sweetest Girls in the World 
El Salvador:  1959

Traveling through Central America in 1959 was, I assume, a bit of a different experience than it would be today.  Each time I crossed into a new region, I'd get an Esso map - Honduras, Nicaragua, El Salvador - and I'd trace out my adventure.  It didn't take long to learn the pros and cons of any particular place.  


High mountain towns were rather isolated, friendly as could be, but terribly poor.  You'd think that kind of poverty would make folks stingy, but inevitably I'd strike up a conversation with someone and the next thing I knew, he'd invite me to his home and treat me like I was family.  Barefoot kids running this way and that, a scolding wife in the kitchen who'd point me to a chair and immediately start feeding me.  So if I ever got to where I was feeling particularly lonesome, I knew I'd be well cared for inland.  

Down in the lowlands, on the other hand, especially along the coast, people were downright snotty, sometimes frightening.  If I fed them my line, "I'm just a poor wandering Irishman visiting this beautiful country of yours..." more often than not they'd grumble at me and tell me to shove off, but then they'd throw a few coins my way and I turned to go.  So it turned into an interesting game to play, to figure it all out.

When I got to San Salvador, I was a bit overwhelmed by the crowded, bustling city.  Down one narrow alley I saw a shabby building with a "Hotel" sign out front, windows shaded.  Pink adobe paint was peeling off the exterior walls in numerous curly rinds. 

I squatted in a shady spot across the narrow street and watched the comings and goings for a while.  Laundry zagged back and forth high above the alleyway.  Feminine silhouettes passed behind a partially open door.  A square-shaped matron sat out front.  I watched her fold her arms over her bulbous chest and shake her head when various men approached.  Finally, around noon, as the shade vanished, I walked up to her, thinking maybe I could talk her into a room. 

I asked, "How much to stay here a couple of nights?  �Cu�nto cuesta?"  The price she gave me was much too high, but I was hot, hungry, and maybe a bit lonesome to boot, so I hung around and we struck up a conversation.  I rummaged through my rucksack to show her some of the pictures I'd taken on my travels.  I think she was a bit curious about me.  As a skinny, red-headed, freckled gringo, I appeared a very curious individual.

After a few minutes, she grinned a brown-toothed smile and said, "Well, alright.  Bueno, supongo que estar�a bien.  I could let you have one of those back rooms over there for free.  Puedes quedarte all� gratis."

  

The next thing I knew, several of the friendliest girls I'd ever met were escorting me to me room.  Of course I didn't realize it at the time, but it turned out they were prostitutes.  These lovely girls, they took my clothes, washed my socks and my shirts, hung them out, and made me a plate of food.  It was the sweetest thing in the world.