I have always been both in love with and allergic to dogs. In fact, for most of my life, after stupidly petting every dog I met, I’d have to rush to a faucet, my hands held haz-mat-fashion in front of me, or pay the price of hives and scratchy, blood-shot eyes.

In an interview with the Reporter in 2010, Diana Kennedy, regarded as one of the foremost authorities on Mexican cuisine who has died at the age of 99, summed up concisely her attraction to preserving the traditional methods and foods of her adopted homeland:

Revered Guadalajara-born photojournalist José Hernández-Claire, perhaps better classified as a “street” or “instantaneous” photographer, died less than a year ago at age 72. (See “Acclaimed Guadalajara photojournalist passes,” Guadalajara Reporter, September 23, 2021.)

Last night there was a tropical summer storm out our way. It must have been about three o’clock in the morning because we were all sound asleep when the first crash of thunder bounced us out of our beds and sent us racing to close the open windows.  We knew what was coming.

I remember where I was on July 4, 1976. It was the Bicentennial and I was in Glens Falls, New York, otherwise known as “Hometown  U.S.A.”

Just as some economists warn of a global slowdown lurking dangerously on the horizon, one of Guadalajara’s largest employers and most forward-thinking companies is making plans to expand its workforce by one-third.