Spanish views from a small town

The weather is changing. It's no longer as hot, but it's thunderstormy weather, so the sun feels like it's going to grab your throat and choke you. Absolutely not the kind of weather it's nice to go out and about wearing a mask. Yet, yesterday afternoon, my daughter and I did so. We set off on a ride of close to an hour, to Cee. My husband asked me to take a rod to a certain tackle shop to have it fixed. Since I now have so much free time, I had no problem.  My daughter and I didn't wear the mask in the car as we drove, windows down, along country roads and through small towns and villages. We hadn't gone along those roads in over a year, I think. Thunderclouds were growing inland, and the sky was hazy, but the wind blowing into the car made driving agreeable. Once we got to Cee, though, I put on the mask as soon as I got out of the car. I felt like I was breathing in hot vapor. While we didn't cross paths with anyone on the sidewalk, I pulled it down ...

When I visited Astorga and León last month I had the great good luck of being directed to one of the spots I could find more information on my grandfather. Yesterday , the photocopies of his prison record arrived by mail. How strange to see that old-fa shioned hand writing that wrote down all the in cidences bold ly stated; his arrival, the re ason for his incarceration, his sentence, statements he was made to swear to. I had thought all of it would be typewritten. But no , in those days, desp ite the amount of pris oners rou nded up by the Frente Nacional in their rebel lion against the established go vernment, the prison books were still books and still handwritten. On the 27th of July, 1937, h e was sentenced to twenty years by the military tribu nal set up in Santiago de Compostela soon after the outbreak of the Civil War. The official crime was "rebelión militar," "military rebe llion." It is completely ironi c th at a milit ary tribu nal set up b...

My wanderings continued yesterday after a very restful night with absolutely no outside noise, except crickets if I had wanted to open my window on a cool night. So cool, I was thankful for the two blankets on my bed. But after breakfast I had to leave the delightful pension and continue my trip.  The day before, when I arrived, I asked if the old prison at Astorga still existed, but was told it was long gone. I mentioned I had had a thought about checking to see if there were any information left in Astorga about Civil War prisoners, and the hostess said she would talk with someone she knew who might help me. Yesterday morning, an appointment was set up with him in Astorga.  I met with the gentleman and he gave me the names of various national archives where I would be likely to find the old documents about my grandfather's incarceration. One thing that Franco copied from the Germans was the love of official documents. One of the archives was the Archivo Provincial de Leó...