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... Like many of my Quadalajara friends, I considered the possibility of moving back to the States. The Clubhouse robbery had taken a toll on me, but other factors also came into play. I had settled into this sorry excuse for a house because of the scarcity of accessible houses for rent. The influx of people to the city, the emergence of a "middle class" in Mexico, the rise of the cost-of-living, and several other factors made me weigh the pros and cons of continuing to live in Quadalajara. Excluding the cost of attendant care, living in the "good ol' U.S. of A." would be comparable to living in Quadalajara--but with many advantages. It would be neat to have central heat and air-conditioninng, to be able to take a shower without first having a helper fire up the hot water boiler, to eat American food in America, and to transition back to the mainstream of American society. ...
...As I looked back over my years spent living in this quad paradise, I couldn't help but reflect on just how I'd matured from the scared kid who'd spent the first three and a half years of his post-inury life in hospitals, rehab, and as a virtual shut-in, to president of one of the Paralyzed Veterans of America's thirty-three chapters. ...
... Zigzagging diagonally through New Mexico, we drove through the town of Roswell, made famous by the 1947 UFO incident. Or was it a hoax? Either way, we didn't see any little green men, so we pushed on to Tucson and the home of Charlie Gilliam. Charlie, and his attendant Timateo, made Juan and I feel at home in the hillside hacienda, which doubled as a sanctuary for quail and other small birds and desert creatures. ...
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