An easy walk today, down the Boulevard Miguel de la Madrid to Calle Juarez and breakfast at Lulu’s. I have never been disappointed at Lulu’s for comida saludable; it is the best place for vegetable and fruit drinks, full meals, or antojitos. This morning’s trip to Lulu’s came with the bonus of being asked to hold a baby while the mother dealt with the behavior issues of an older child.
My next stop was across the street to Puerto Café for a cappuccino, then on to visit my friend Roberto at his appliance repair shop.
I love that Mexico is a country that still repairs things. Cities buy old American school buses at auctions for almost nothing and will keep them running indefinitely. My appliance repair friend has a complete workshop in a room behind his display area. He can rewind motors, build electrical phase inverters, and restore old refrigerators. His cousin sorts through waste transfer stations in the US.
He wrestles cast-off appliances for electronic parts and then brings down recycled circuit panels from the ‘Imperio del Consumo.’ Roberto doesn’t always get the exact parts he needs, but can often rebuild or modify to get his projects working. I think the guy’s a genius.
Roberto was not in his workshop today; he was back in the living quarters with his wife, and they were discussing a recent article in the Catholic News Agency about a Monk named Fred, or Brother Fred.
This good man, Fred, apparently has a talent for procuring large sums of money for whatever the need, maybe a new hospital wing in some small town, a new school, and cell phone antennas and cable TV in a remote hamlet. Some people say he can ‘bring in money like Mother Theresa.’ Fred is well-known in the Catholic world and well thought of, almost legendary.
From what I believe to have learned from this conversation is that Brother Fred was visiting the Monesterio de la Soledad near San Miguel. His permanent residence is Saint Michael’s Abby, part of the Monastery of La Soledad in Xalapa, Veracruz. He told one of the resident Monks that he was going into town to ‘pick up a few supplies, and quedar con alguien para almorzar,‘ or meet someone for lunch.
That was almost two weeks ago now, and no one has seen or heard from Brother Fred, nothing at the airports, no passport activity near border towns, and no word or message to his home monastery. He seems to have disappeared, and many of the hundreds who love him fear the worst.
I’m going to learn more about Brother Fred, but now I need to continue my walk and try to remember to pick up a sack of food for my dog. And my prescription for any day is high top shoes and just get truckin.’ The people of Manzanillo are waiting for your visit and earnest conversation.
***
This is an update on the status of my search for Brother Fred, the missing Monk: Google is useless as a source for any information about Fred, but the Catholic church has been great on history, at least up to a point. Church news agencies have archives dating back to the times when Monks spent days copying journals in ink on hide. I’ve been able to retrieve translated articles from French, Spanish, and even a reprint of a story that appeared in a Croatian newspaper. For some translation, I have, with great caution, relied on the dreaded Google.
Brother Fred started life as an American named Frederick Alan Knowlton the Third. I found some information dating back to the 20’s in reference to a Michigan lumber baron named Frederick Knowlton.
The Chicago Defender published a story in 1970. Between college years, Fred did what was popular at the time for college students: he bought an airplane ticket and a Eurail Pass and took off for France.
It was also the time when most of the world was getting pretty fed up with the US’s invasion of Vietnam and subsequent war crimes. It was not a good idea to travel overseas and be identified as an American, so I imagine Fred would have sewn a Canadian flag to his backpack.
I came across a story published by a newspaper in the pre-1991 era of Croatia, the Socialist Republic of Yugoslavia. Google had a very rough time with the translation (it was probably for the desperate want of vowels), but the essence was that of a celebration staged by the local Diocese on the Island of Hvar. It was a tribute and great feast in thanks for the tireless work and efforts of their French friend and Brother, Fred from St. Mary monastery of the poor in Clares, France.
It seems that the young Mr. Knowlton, while trekking about the countryside in France, stumbled upon a monastic retreat and prayer group from the nearby town of Clares. He was invited into the fold, offered a site for pitching his small tent, and never left. I’m not sure yet if he ever returned to the United States, but he entered into studies in France as a novitiate and lay brother and embraced studies of the rule of Benedict monastic literature and history. Fred became a monk.
That’s all I have for now, and I need to get back to working on Seven Layers. I’ll give Fred a little more attention next week. Mejores deseos para usted.
