At the Forefront of Casa Warren’s Legacy

Ivy’s siblings were Timothy, Cheryl, Kirby, and Esther. Mrs. Ivy’s first memory is drinking from an oat meal glass on the kitchen table that usually contained peppers, mutton peppers and onions. The glass had only had vinegar, and the young Ivy, maybe three years old, drunk the vinegar form the glass.

She did her ABCs to sixth grade using Royal Readers English textbooks. “As small children, we had to do both Spanish [public] school and English school,” remembers Mrs. Ivy. At eight, she begun taking music lessons from her aunt, married to Paul Ebanks.

The 15th of September was a very important date in Roatan’s calendar. School children from all over Roatan would gather in the island’s capital to march and celebrate Honduras’ Independence Day. “Our teacher taught us: ‘Honduras es mi patria,’” remembers Mrs. Ivy. At seven o’clock in the morning the children would await a boat send by the municipality.

In order to go to a store or attend church service Mrs. Ivy walked from West End to Coxen Hole. “That was a little, narrow road, that you buckled your ankles if you didn’t watch it,” remembers Mrs. Ivy, The foot and horse path that runs between West End across the hills to Flowers Bay. “We had ticks, uuuuu, loads of ticks,” remembers Mrs. Ivy. The walk to Coxen Hole would take two hours and some rode horses to save time, but Mrs. Ivy was afraid of horses.

The last day of the week was a special time for the entire family. “We went to West Bay almost every Sunday afternoon. We ate a lot of coco plums and grapes, they were wild. Jim Díaz, Foster Díaz’s grandfather, used to live in a little house in West Bay.” These were bucolic days for Roatan and for many children that grew up on the island. “There were a lot of crabs. They were clean,” remembers Mrs. Ivy. “We would pick them by the sack, take them home and boil them. We still love the crabs.”

In 1952 the Warren family moved from West End to La Ceiba so children could receive more formal education. The family was there for four years to take advantage the city’s schools and colleges.

In 1950s there was only one municipality on the island, and Coxen Hole was its capital. It was a busy town and it had thriving general store. Mr. Warren had an opportunity to buy a building that became Casa Warren, Warren’s Supermarket and now is Eldon’s Supermarket in Coxen Hole.

Warren Hotel with its seven rooms was the first hotel in the Bay Islands.

In January of 1955 the Warren family traveled on “Colonel Cruz” boat leaving La Ceiba banana company dock at midnight at arriving at the Coxen Hole municipal dock at 6am. “It was always a pretty rough ride.”

Mrs. Ivy’s father purchased a two story wooden building that also had a few rooms to rent and a space that could be used for a store. In fact Casa Warren Hotel with its seven rooms was the first hotel in the Bay Islands. “Judges and governors were the staying there, renting the month, and “lot’s of gringos,” said Mrs. Ivy. John C. Henley III from Alabama and his sister Edmunia Henley were guests and early investors on Roatan leasing land from locals.

At first it was Mrs. Ivy’s mother who runs the business as her father stayed behind in La Ceiba. “She run the kitchen, dining room area while the children run the store area,” says Mrs. Ivy. At 16 Mrs. Ivy was already working at the family store. Her parents lived upstairs and the children worked in the store downstairs. Her sister Janet helped out as well. The business depended on help from everyone. “My dad was off for two years and then he run the business with us,” says Mrs. Ivy.

There were just a few places on the island that one could call proper stores. “We had a store, McNabs had a store and Mr. Oswald had a store,” says Mrs. Ivy. While Roatan in 1950s and 60s had three large stores there were also many scattered through the island “Truchitas,” small stores selling sugar and a few high demand items.

Back then Roatan was a peaceful, quiet place, but the law always looked for some bad apples. “They would put you in jail for just about anything, especially stealing,” remembers Mrs. Ivy. There was not much crime on Roatan in 1950s. Most people left their doors open and there were few things a thief could steel. “In those days there was no much stealing going on. Not like today,” says Mrs. Ivy. “If you go onto someone’s plantation and steal their coconuts, they would walk you down the street with it on your back – shame you.”

Many people in jail ended up there because they would make their own moonshine. “People would make chicha; brew it down with corn. They would make strong alcohol,” said Mrs. Ivy. “They would take the cashew and make wine, they made berry wine, they make rice wine.”

Mrs. Ivy married at 18 to Walter Cooper. His father, Dr. Loyd Cooper, was the only dentist on Roatan for many years and young Walter helped his father at the clinic. The couple had two children and stayed married for 45 years. “You need to take care of yourself, eat right, lead a good clean life,” says Mrs. Ivy. As a Christian you learn how to do that.”

In 1970s her father decided to expand the store. The old wooden, two story building has outlived its usefulness and it was time for an upgrade. “I’m gonn’a make a supermarket,’ said my dad,” remembers Mrs. Ivy. “My dad was very visionary.” That is when Casa Warren went from being a wooden building to a cement building.

Casa Warren had a prime location in Roatan’s hub town. It was just a few meters west of the municipal dock and down the hill from Governor’s hill where the telegram office, a jail and a clock tower were. “Every 15 minutes it would sound off,” remembers the municipal clock Mrs. Ivy. “If you didn’t sleep well that keep you awake.” When sometime in 1980s Mr. Sam Welcome, the clock keeper died, no one took over the task of maintaining the clock. The clock Municipal clock stopped and people depended on their own time.

In 1984 Mrs. Ivy’s father died and the Casa Warren was left to Mrs. Ivy’s mother and children. “My dad was very strict. I had a good dad. He took care of us,” remembers her father with fondness Mrs. Ivy. “One thing our dad taught us is to share with one another. He taught us to take care of one another. We worked through differences, we worked through tough times.”

In 2010 Casa Warren was rented to Eldon Hyde, owner of Eldon’s Supermarket. In her 80s Mrs. Ivy lives on ground floor in a large cement home adjacent to old Casa Warren. She has the radio from morning until the early afternoon. Every Sunday she goes to the First Baptist Church where she plays the organ, or the piano. “That was my life: the store and the church,” says Mrs. Ivy. Now her life is mostly centered around the church and her family. Her two grandchildren live with her and look after her. “I had a good life,” she says.

Plastic Bags will Not Save Us

When the previous Roatan Municipal administration banned plastic bags and transparent plastic containers, I was not happy. Not because I dislike nature, am particularly lazy, or even poor. This municipal exercise in virtue signaling seemed pointless beyond allowing Roatan’s local government to signal that they too have joined this global psychosis.
The cost of not being provided free plastic bags by grocers is passed on to the consumer. I’ve done the calculations and every year it costs me $90 to keep up with this “no plastic bags” virtue signaling. I lose about $20 by having to buy bags at 10 Lps. a piece. When there are no bags available, I have to pay someone to pack my food items into a cardboard box and carry it to my car. Sometimes that carton breaks apart, spilling and ruining its content. The estimated cost of these lost items? $30 a year.

It costs me $90 to keep up with this “no plastic bags” virtue signaling.

We don’t only lose money in the name of carrying out this virtue signal, we lose time. I spend extra time waiting for the supermarket store packer to locate a box and tie it down with black plastic string. The entire process can extend each visit to the supermarket by an extra 1-2 minutes. These minutes add up. I go to Eldon’s every other day on average, which is about 182 times a year. Multiply that by, say, 1.5 minutes, and you have 273 minutes or 4.5 hours a year.
For having groceries packed, I have to pay a grocery clerk to carry the boxes to the car, which that was not always the case. When I got a few bags, I would carry them myself.
I miss the convenience of the always abundant, available, and strong plastic bags for my groceries. Those of us who wanted to bring their own bags were welcome to do so. I feel almost melancholic about them. They had several different sizes and featured white and orange stripes.

The “So Very Much Caring” Banks

Another virtue signaling exercise has been performed for nearly three years by Honduran Banks. Since mid- 2020, when the COVID lockdowns began, these banks begun pushing the illusion that wearing masks is essential for conducting business and that they care about public health. Banks forced everybody to participate in this psychotic masquerade and outlasted even government institutions in its enforcement.
Honduran banks have been enforcing a “no hats” rule in banks for two decades. The logic behind “no hats” in Honduran banks is somewhat sound, as hats can obscure the face and could aid in staying stealthy during a robbery. However, if you follow simple logic, requiring wearing a face mask negates the need to remove hats. Apparently, for the banks — supposedly logical economic institutions — logic has very quickly reached its limit.

From Church of Hope to Church of Fear

The virtue signaling in Catholic churches in Honduras and on the island has also reached a crescendo. During the COVID operation, the Honduran Catholic Church authorities somehow convinced their faithful that taking Eucharist in their hands and then placing it in their mouths is somehow safer, and that we are less likely to fall ill and die from the Eucharist this way.
This “virtuous” act is revolutionary. Allow me to explain. One of basic Catholic tenants of faith is the dogma of Transubstantiation. Since the Council of Trent in 1551, according to Catholic Church teachings, “the change of the whole substance of bread into the substance of the Body of Christ and of the whole substance of wine into the substance of the Blood of Christ” is central to the faith.
This transubstantiation takes place through Eucharistic prayer and the actions of the Holy Spirit. Therefore, the treating of the consecrated host is of utmost importance for a Catholic. The consecrated host is venerated and guarded and all costs. For millennia, it could only be touched by the consecrated, purified hands of a priest and was delivered only onto the tongue.
In 2020, when Church authorities in Honduras and Roatan virtue signaled that they are concerned about those accepting the consecrated Body of Christ, local churches began enforcing that the Body of Christ be taken onto often unwashed, unsanitary hands before placing the host into one’s month. That Honduran bishops introduced this idea — that the Body of Christ could kill you — is peak satanic manipulation of the frightened masses.
The Catholic Church, which for 2,000 years reminded us about the transcendental value of faith and the importance of the afterlife, has suddenly and incredibly convinced us that, in reality, this physical life is most important. Just like that, the Church has gone from being a shepherd of souls to administrators of fear in a religion of scientism.
We are constantly pressured by media, authorities, and friends to despise classical virtues and to glorify and celebrate vices. We are taught to despise moderation, temperance, chastity, beauty, and life. We are pressured to glorify pride, gluttony, sodomy, ugliness and death. We may live in transvaluated times, but I, for one, refuse to adopt those values as my own.

We are taught to despise moderation, temperance, chastity, beauty, and life.