Dorita became my first teacher. She assured me that it was ok to go back to mom and be hugged even though she had beat me up. During this time in Guatemala, dad supported us by repairing typewriters. He used gasoline as a cleaning fluid which, upon completing a job, he would pour between the cobble stones in the street and set light to. Dorita told me that the flames burned but the smoke was just warm and not dangerous. The smoke would go up to the sky and become clouds which were responsible for the winds that dried boys laundry while the sun gently dried dresses. She also taught me that when people got married, they go to the "baby" trees where eggs turned into babies. If a couple wanted a boy, the would carefully remove the baby with a piece of stem still attached. Often the smell of gasoline triggers a memory.