The Gang at Lario’s

“This must be heaven . . . .”
“No. It’s Iowa.”
W.P. Kinsella, Shoeless Joe


Believe it or not, my wife and I had good reasons for going to Iowa this summer.

First of all, her extended family lives in Cedar Falls. Secondly, she was scheduled to attend an Advanced Placement workshop at the University of Iowa.

And last, but certainly not least, most of the Gang at Lario’s live in Iowa.

There was nothing glamorous about Lario’s—a rustic restaurant in the small town of San Marcos, Nicaragua, that served adequate food and cheap pitchers of beer. But the group that met there on most nights was very special, indeed. The Gang consisted of several professors who taught at the local college and their families. And over the course of two years we became an extended family. More remarkably, to my eyes at least, we formed an inspiring literary group led by Nina Forsythe and Rhonda Patzia, both talented writers and, as I later discovered, excellent editors. They, as well as my wife, have blessed me twice: serving as readers for my novels, including the recently completed manuscript, Meet Me Under the Ceiba. (Rhonda’s a world-class photographer as well—her work is featured on the cover of the July 2005 issue of The SUN; and she graced me by taking the author’s shot for Bernardo and the Virgin. Nina has been busy as well, publishing her poetry in various journals throughout the States.)

When the time came for us to move on with our lives, during the summer of 2002, we left Nicaragua, sad over the Gang’s breakup. Amazingly, three families from this cluster ended up in Iowa: the husbands obtaining teaching jobs in Cedar Rapids, Sioux City, and Pella. I believe this “coincidence” was divinely designed. Just ask yourself, what are the odds of a group of close friends independently ending up in Iowa, and all the way from Central America at that? Somehow I feel that the patron saint of friendships, whomever that may be, was asking us to remain a tight-knit community.

We stayed in touch, thanks to the internet, and we started to plan a reunion for the summer of 2005. At last, during the second half of July, the Gang at Lario’s congregated in the quaint Dutch community of Pella, where Mike, Rhonda’s husband, teaches philosophy at Central College. In spite of not having seen one another for three years, our coming together felt as if we had just stepped out of Lario’s a few hours earlier. We had fun reminiscing, of course—and that included mutilating the piñata of a clown disguised as the Grand Inquisitor (but that may be the subject of a later posting)—but mostly we talked about the future, absolutely sure that this would not be our last reunion.

Words will always fail me when asked by outsiders to explain why the Gang at Lario’s has meant so much to me. But I tell them to take a glimpse at the dedication of Bernardo and the Virgin, and then they begin to understand.