GREEDHEADS TO THE RESCUE
It seems that back on July 3, 1999, an outfit called the "Freedom Brigade" of the Borderland Boaters Association decided to test whether the National Park Service had jurisdiction over the waters within the boundaries of Voyaguers National Park in Minnesota.
It seems that the NPS, spoilsport that it is, had banned jet skis and other noxious motorized watercraft from Voyaguers in an effort to give the park patron some idea of what it was like to travel by canoe in silence, long before we invented the internal combustion engine and decibels.
Greedheads, as represented by the "Freedom Brigade", decided to have a "roar in" by sending a flotilla of jet skis and powerboats through the protected area on July 3, the day before Independence Day.
The Greedhead's idea was that the NPS would arrest the violators, giving the Greedheads plenty of press and TV coverage on the Fourth of July. Hopefully, there would be video footage of a tearful middle class lady recreational boater, handcuffed by a "jackbooted" grim faced federal authority figure and so on.
Didn't go down that way, buckaroos. The NPS very cleverly laid back, didn't interfere, but carefully recorded all the violations and all the violator's boat registration numbers on video tape. The violators were then simply mailed a mandatory summons to appear in court at a later date. (Sorry, guys, no publicity)
The courts upheld the NPS move: The perps are $100 shorter, and most importantly, NPS jurisdiction over park waters has been upheld. However, obnoxious as their protest was, the Greedheads were well within their moral rights as Americans to challenge what they perceived as restrictions of their rights. The courts saw things differently, but that's the American way.
In the waning days of Clinton administration, some 700 retired FBI agents marched in front of the White House to demonstrate their disapproval of a proposed pardon for Lakotah Indian activist, Leonard Peletier. Mr. Peltier was convicted of participation in the murder of two FBI agents on the Pine Ridge Reservation. The FBI agents got their wish and Mr. Peletier was not pardoned. (Some cynics feel it was not so much the ex-FBI presence that decided the issue, but rather the probability that Mr. Peltier's friends were not able to come up with a sufficiently large enough bribe for the Clintons!)
Whatever the case or cause, Americans have traditionally had the right to petition the Government for the redress of grievances, real and imagined. With this in mind, we at Thunderbear have wondered exactly how to deal with the new administration's take on public land issues.
Now, friends, we have continuing hope that our fellow Republican, President George Bush Jr, will turn out to be a Bullmoose Republican rather than one of the Greedhead variety.
However, the President's appointment of a Greedhead as Secretary of the Interior is cause for some alarm.
Although the American people seem to rank preservation of the environment as far more important than money grubbing, the appointment of a Greedhead hardliner, Gail Norton as Secretary seems to disregard this wish. (We realize that due to the U.S. political system, the president's landslide victory of less than 400 votes means he has no legal requirement to pay attention to the will of nature lovers, we do believe "Dubya" has a moral requirement to do so).
The question is, how do we help the President see the light?
Fortunately, the Minnesota Greedheads have shown the way: Constructive confrontation! That is, informational picket lines around the Department of Interior and Agriculture every working day for the next four years!
Why?
Because this administration's Interior agencies and Agriculture's Forest Service can be counted upon to implement environmental atrocities on a weekly basis for the next four years (Unless "Dubya" sees the light!) In short, the pickets, the issues, and even the picket signs would change on a weekly basis.
But where would we get the pickets? You ask, nervously.
Well now buckaroos, for a government employee to take an active position on an issue, even one as bi-partisan as the environment, would be a violation of the Hatch Act and could result in "Disciplinary Action" (Always loved that term "Disciplinary Action"! It conjures up something out of a Patrick O'Brien novel, with the poor government employee being keelhauled or flogged through the fleet!)
Anyways, you are off the hook. You may not picket or otherwise obstruct the operation of your agency regarding policy if you are actively employed by the Federal Government.
What if you are retired? (Remember those 700 retired FBI agents?)
Well yes, when you retired, you regained all your civil rights. (Hallelujah, Marse Abe! You done make us free!) You may now picket the Department of Interior Building.
However, there is a logistical problem. Most NPS retirees do not live in the Washington DC area, choosing to retire in the West and Southwest. Your esteemed editor being the sole exception, as, at great personal sacrifice, I have elected to remain in the DC area to keep an eye on Congress and other environmental miscreants. (The reason that the Association of retired FBI Agents is able to conjure up 700 marchers on short notice is that many ex FBI take second career jobs with "Beltway Bandit" consulting firms in the DC area and hence live in the neighborhood.)
Very simple, neighbors! We employ the prime resource management tool of our brother agency, the U.S. Forest Service, that is, the Multiple Use Concept.
Multiple Use?
Yes. Just as the Forest Service would agree that forests are wasted by just letting people look at them, we believe that the energy and enthusiasm of America's high school students is being wasted by just letting them gawk at the sights of Our Nation's Capitol.
You see, every year, hundreds of American high schools all over the nation send the junior or senior class on a week long field trip to DC to view the monuments and See How Their Government Works. The teenagers are frequently bored out of their gourds.
Under our Student Multiple Use Plan, we will provide them with the fun of attacking the government and THEN seeing how Government works!
This is how it would work. Most high schools have some sort of ecology or environmental club or organization. That club would coordinate through the internet with the Sierra Club or Wilderness Society to see what particular environmental atrocity was being planned the week of the proposed Senior Class visit.
For example, the Sierra Club or Wilderness Society might recommend a picket line at the Forest Service headquarters, protesting, say, the deforestation of the Tongass National Forest or gas and oil drilling in Bridger National Forest outside of Yellowstone, or a picket line around Interior might be recommended to protest a titanium mine that would seriously impair the Fish & Wildlife Service's Okeefenokee Refuge in Georgia, or sweetheart grazing deals offered by the Bureau of Land Management (This Administration will be able to offer a very large menu of protest issues for the environmentally concerned youth of today!)
The students would then select the environmental topic that particularly interests them and proceed to research it carefully, not overlooking the arguments of the Greedheads, until they reach a position that they can defend and support. Then they would carefully research the regulations on demonstrations and picketing in Washington and agree to obey them. They would make up the appropriate picket signs and also costumes for charades to be performed outside of Interior and USFS headquarters (Both Cheney and Norton lend themselves to satire.)
The picketing and demonstrations would be conducted on a rotating basis, with say, a high school from Pittsburgh, Pa taking over from a high school from California. With only, say, three hours per day devoted to picketing and attempts to present a petition to Secretary Norton, the kids will still have time to do the traditional things like seeing the Air & Space Museum, The White House, The Capitol, and so on.
"But can we control this?" You ask nervously "What if they get out of hand?"
We can control very little in this life, nor should we. Americans have been "Getting out of hand" since 1776. It is part of our national culture. The civil rights and anti war demonstrations of the '60's and 70's were part and parcel of our national ethos.
"But isn't there some danger?"
Probably not. It is unlikely that Secretary Norton will authorize a tear gas volley or a baton charge against school kids with the nation's media looking on. (Still, you never can tell!)
"But is this fair to Greedheads?" You inquire.
Good point, neighbor. A Bullmoose Republican tries to be fair to both sides. As this is a democracy, the right to demonstrate is available to all Americans. (Remember the Minnesota Greedheads). I imagine that Senator Murkowski (R-Alaska) could manage to fly a plane load of kids down from Anchorage High School to counter demonstrate in support of Secretary Norton and Congressman Hansen (R-Utah) could arrange a bus load of students from Brigham City High to demonstrate in favor of strip mining.
"But as a park superintendent, I have business at Interior. I promised my mother on her death bed that I would never cross a picket line. What am I to do?" You whine.
No worry, mate. The National Park Service is scheduled to move from the Interior Building and take up residence with the World Bank (As Dave Barry would say, "I am not making this up". It is really happening!) So, unless the NPS or the World Bank really screw up environmentally (always a possibility) there probably would not be a picket line around the NPS.
So what should you do? Well, obviously nothing if you don't approve of this plan. On the other hand, if you believe it does have some merit, you might just float it past the school superintendent at the next Rotary Meeting.
It should be an interesting four years in Washington, neighbors
MARIPOSA METAPHOR
According to the Lonely Planet Guide to Mexico "Somewhere from 35 million to hundreds of millions of Monarch butterflies come here every year to breed, arriving around the end of October or the beginning of November and departing again in the beginning or middle of April for their long migration back to the USA and southern Canada. When they are present there are so many butterflies in the sanctuary that they cover the trees , turning them a flaming orange: It's a spectacular sight."
Now, neighbors, when it comes to movable wildlife, I tend to be a bit cynical. I am never able to hit it just right. I am always going to some Fish & Wildlife Refuge only to be told that "a cold front" (or something) had just come through and the (fill in the blank) had all taken off!" The refuge manager always says "But ya shoulda been here! Must have been 600,000 of them! Never saw anything like it in my whole career!"
Even stationary flora lets me down. The resource manager at a desert park is always telling me "Yup, it looked to be the biggest desert wildflower bloom of the decade, maybe the century. Rains fell just right, temperatures just right too, then we had that cold snap. Too bad you came all this way for nothing."
Therefore, I took the idea of seeing millions of Monarch butterflies flitting about, with a large grain of salt.
The Mexican tour company was honest, but not reassuring. "Last week when we went out, we saw very few of the mariposa, perhaps it was too cold, the week before, we saw millions. Perhaps we will be lucky this weekend. Quien sabe? Señor."
As a 50% chance of seeing a monarch butterfly swarm in the state of Michoaocan is 100% better than in the state of Maryland, Joan and I coughed up the 1800 pesos for a trip to the Sanctuario De Mariposa el Rosario.
The story of the Monarch butterfly migration and the Mexican butterfly sanctuaries is one of the more heartwarming and bittersweet "success" stories in conservation biology. It is bittersweet because "success" in conservation is never final: The good guys have to keep winning every battle; the bad guys only have to win once.
It had long been suspected by "Science" that not all the Monarch butterflies died when the first frost occurred. It was believed by many entomologists that a substantial portion of the Monarchs not only didn't die, but they went somewhere else to survive the harsh American winter.
The question was, where?
Now, neighbors, scientists hate to be accused of anthromorphism, that is, attributing one's own motives and desires to another species. However, if you were a Harvard entomologist, spending a freezing January outside of Boston, you could be forgiven for imaging that the Monarch butterflies MUST be migrating to the tropical jungle states of the Yucatan peninsula or to the equally hot and humid state of Chiapas. So that's where they looked. Didn't find any.
Naturally, they couldn't inquire of the butterflies, but one would think they might have asked the Mexicans. It seems that the contrary Monarchs not only eschewed a tropical holiday, but preferred to socialize and vacation at an altitude of 10,000 feet in the Sierra Madre de Oriental of the state of Michoacan.
Now it is true that the Monarch wintering areas were pretty far back in the boonies, but not THAT far. Mexico City is about 130 miles away, and the old silver mining town of Anganguao (pop. 6,000) is around 6 miles away over an admittedly very rough road. The citizens of Anganguao noticed that their town was blanketed by butterflies twice a year and the local legends said that they were the souls of dead Aztec warriors come home to pay a visit, but apparently no one asked the Anganguanians.
Anyways, the "lost" wintering sites of the Monarchs was "discovered" by University of Florida researchers who traced the migration from southern Canada to Michoacan in 1974 and several articles appeared in NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC and SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN. (Actually, a Canadian Zoologist, Dr. Fred Urquart happened upon the Monarchs in their winter home in 1938. This was sort of a clue, when you think about it. However, as Canadians are more diffident then we pushy Americans, it is unlikely that Fred got full credit. Incidentally, I am told that the Canadian Monarch can be differentiated from the American by the mating call: a distinct "A" at the end of each call, with a question like pause at the end.)
Anyways, we started out from Anganguano early in the morning in a recycled American school bus, whose stateside passengers were now probably old enough to have grandchildren of their own. The village children will sell you a tissue face mask. It is a good idea to buy one as there is dust between the boulders that constitute the road to the Mariposa Reserve. It is only 6 miles, but they are 6 grueling miles that will eat a big hole in an hour.
After parking the bus, you walk another half kilometer to the entrance to the reserve. This is not because the road is too steep, but rather so the butterflies can pay their way.
Stretching before you up the mountain for half a kilometer is the El Rosario Sanctuary equivalent of West Yellowstone, Pigeon Forge, or Gatlinburg. Except that unlike those three "villages, this one is done with considerable charm and good taste. First of all, no cars are allowed, and the folks selling things are local Indians, selling handicrafts that in many, (but not all cases) they made themselves. The vendors' stalls are also homemade which adds to the charm. Naturally, most of the handicrafts dealt with Monarch butterflies in wild and varied format. Like most of the customers, we did not burden ourselves with purchases, but made mental notes for shopping stops on the return trip through Monarchs R Us.
As we walked through the line of shops, a single Monarch fluttered across my line of vision. Big, orange and robust, it is the only butterfly most Americans can identify. It always brings back memories of warm summer days in the midwest. Would there be more butterflies? I didn't really think so, but strangely, one seemed to be enough.
We paid our admission fee at the park entrance and started up the steep, 2 kilometer circular trail. Enterprising Indians rented hiking staffs to the pilgrims, a worthwhile investment of 4 pesos as the trail is rough and, at 10,000 feet it is nice to lean against something from time to time.
Suddenly, magically, there were more butterflies. Dozens this time. No, scores! Hundreds! Gently, incrementally, then exponentially, the Monarch numbers began to increase as we climbed. They did not seem to mind us; we were in awe of them.
The park patrons oohed and ahhed at the sight of the living orange flowers circling about them.
About 5,000 people a day hike through the butterfly preserve during the three month season. As far as I could judge, about 90% of them were Mexicans. This was good. I have always thought that foreign eco-tourists were a rather fragile reed upon which to hang the preservation of an eco system. It is nice that a German tourist can hear a wolf in Yellowstone, but only a concerned (nay, enraged!) American electorate can keep the Rocky Mountain Congressional Delegation from removing the wolves from Yellowstone. It is vitally important that a nation sees things like wolves and butterflies as part of the national patrimony.
We noticed the trees of course. They were Oyamel firs, good looking conifers 80 to 120 feet high. They were perhaps the most important part of the Monarch survival equation. It gets cold at night at 10,000 feet in the winter, even in Mexico. The butterflies clump together for warmth on the tree branches, sometimes nearly a foot thick. The equation is quite simple: No roosting trees, no butterflies.
The park patrons whispered excitedly, pointing at various trees with exceptionally heavy layers of Monarchs. We were waiting for a butterfly "drop".
By late morning, most of the butterflies are in flight. They did not block out the blue sky, but they certainly enhanced it. It is one of the largest swarms of insects I have ever seen. Only some mosquito swarms in Central Alaska could compare with the numbers (I must admit the Mariposa experience to be decidedly the more enjoyable)
Will the Monarchs endure? Interesting question, neighbors.
Some greedheads would like to log the trees. But isn't the forest preserved as an essential part of the Mariposa Sanctuary? Ah, yes! but if we reverse the equation of "No trees, no Monarchs, to "No Monarchs, why trees?" could we not abolish the sanctuary (as it was no longer needed) and then log the trees? Simple, No?
With this in mind, shortly after we visited the Monarchs, it is alleged that interested parties entered some of the Monarch reserves at night and sprayed the sleeping butterflies with insecticide, killing millions of them. No butterflies, no need for a preserve.
However, the move seems to have backfired. The alleged butterfly massacre made frontpage news in Mexican newspapers as in the few years the preserve has been in place, the Monarchs have become quite a Mexican symbol and the Mexican federal authorities have launched an investigation at high enough level to be beyond being bribed.
The environmental ethic is growing by leaps and bounds in Mexico and one cannot fail to be impressed by the courage of the men and women on the cutting edge of conservation. Environmentalism in Mexico is literally a matter of life and death as well as principle. The Mexican bad guys have a saying, "plato o plumbo?" meaning do you want silver in your pocket to look the other way, or lead in your head if you fail to do so?.
I was up on the slopes of Popocatepetl Volcano one day with an American scientist. He was remarking on illegal logging in the Popocatepetl-Ixtacclhualtl National Park. It seems that several people witnessed the timber theft and reported it at high enough level that it could not be ignored. Unfortunately, they were the only witnesses, so the loggers had them murdered before they could testify.
In spite of this, brave men and women keep coming forward in the defense of the environment and their community. In Mexico's wildest and woolliest state of Guerrero, "Somebody" sold logging rights to an old growth forest to an American company, without informing the owners, the local campesinos, who had managed their forests on a sustainable basis since pre Columbian times.
One of the campesinos, Rudolpho Montiel, organized a human chain blockade of the roads the logging trucks would use. To their credit, the American company smelled real bad publicity and canceled the contract. Understandably, "somebody" was irritated. As an example to others, Montiel and a compadre were arrested and charged with the possession of drugs and weapons.
Unfortunately, Mexican courts will accept a confession as proof of guilt even if it is extracted by torture. "Somebody's" friends were able to provide the torture and Montiel and friend were sentenced to six years in prison.
However, this did not turn out to be the example that the "Somebodys" wanted. Montiel has become the poster boy for environmental justice in the developing world. He was awarded the Sierra Club's prestigious Chico Mendez award (named after the Brazilian environmentalist murdered for his efforts in saving the Amazon rain forest.) The prize was personally delivered to Montiel at the Guerrero State Prison by Ethel Kennedy, wife of the late Senator Robert F. Kennedy. If that wasn't enough grief for the greedheads, Amnesty International has adopted Rudolfo Montiel and compadre as "prisoner of conscience". With the change in administration, it is likely that Montiel will be released soon.
The World Bank (The National Park Service's new roommate in DC) has often been criticized for its alleged lack of interest in environmental justice in the developing world. In its most recent WORLD DEVELOPMENT REPORT (Bankers modestly assume some of the powers of God) The World Bank stated "Without adequate environmental protection, human development is undermined: Without human development, environmental protection will fail."
I reckon that the two Daves (Foreman and Brower) would take issue with the last part of that statement, but, hey! even a grudging nod to the environment on the part of the World Bank is a step forward!
So what has this to do with the Monarch butterfly? Plenty, neighbors. The campesinos of Michoacan and the butterflies have been neighbors for a millennia or more. You can visit petroglyphs of Monarchs on the local rocks. This is not uninhabited wilderness, so in this case, the World Bank is correct: "Without human development, environmental protection will fail."
With this in mind, David Packard of the famed computer firm has donated $5 million to preserve the Monarch butterflies. The money is not to build a fence around the Preserve, but rather to establish jobs and enterprises for the local folks so they will feel no need to log the forest.
Packard is a good example of the Bullmoose Republican as opposed the Greedhead Republican. He made his money with brains and ideas as opposed to the brainless looting of natural "resources" that characterizes the dinosaur industries of yesteryear. His industry is resource friendly in that, including his competitors, the natural resources consumed weigh less than one of our smaller aircraft carriers.
Packard is correct in championing the non-consumptive use of an eco-system. This is not airey-fairy, pie-in-the-sky environmentalism, but rather good, sound capitalism. 130 years ago, dirt poor, hard-scrabble farms covered 80% of New England, with 20% in hardwood forests that had not yet been cut. Today, the figures are reversed, with 80% in hardwood forests. What happened was the stony, worn out farms were abandoned and reverted to hardwood forest. Now any saw log forester will tell you that there is no money in hardwoods, too slow growing. What you need, friend, is fast growing, genetically engineered conifers growing in rows for ease of harvest and quick rotation!
Wrong, neighbor!
Each fall, hundreds of thousands of urban folks, called "leaf peepers" visit New England to witness the changing of the fall colors each year. They leave 700 million dollars behind each year. "Each year" is the key point. The 700 million comes in every year, and not just the year the trees are "harvested" (There is some selective logging allowed, plus, of course, maple syruping, which are additional lagniappes for the locals). No urban dweller in his/her right mind would drive across the state line to see a drab green smudge of an industrial forest composed of dog-hair conifers growing in rows. I reckon that Michaocan without mariposas would be like New England without Fall color.
So are the forests and the mariposas safe? No, not while there are Greedheads about (Eternal vigilance is the price of nonextinction, buckaroos!) but they do have a fighting chance.
I have asked the National Park Service's Champion Bug Lady, Carol Di Salvo, to look into the possibility of an International Migratory Butterfly Treaty, ( very much like the International Migratory Waterfowl Treaty) that would bind Canada, the US. and Mexico together to preserve this remarkable insect. (True, Carol, you may have to testify before Congress ("Young lady, you mean to say you want Congress to protect some damn bug!" but I think it would be worth the aggravation.)
On the way back down alley way of shops, I purchased a tee shirt (shame on me!) but I couldn't pass it up. It was a Monarch butterfly linking the flags of Canada, the United States, and Mexico; a perfect metaphor for treating out continent as an entity. Viva la mariposa!
GRINGOS, MEXICANS, AND ELECTIONS
The United States, God's protector of Freedom and Democracy on Earth, and Model for All Mankind, managed to have one of the shadiest elections in its history.
Mexico, on the other hand, that citadel of corruption and stuffed ballot boxes, managed to have the most honest and civil election in its history, tossing out one of the world's longest running one party dictatorships. (Only the former Soviet Union's Communist party had a longer winning streak than Mexico's Party of Revolutionary Institutions--and not by much.)
Naturally, Mexicans of all persuasions are proud, pleased--and tickled pink to see the USA screw up mightily. (Though they are much too courteous to say so, politely offering to send election monitors north of the Rio if requested, and so on)
After 71 years of absolute PRI control of the office of the President, the national legislature, all but one of the 31 state governorships, and 95% of the municipal governments, the people of Mexico elected Vincente Fox of the National Action Party, (PAN). After decades of PRI control, in which PRI presidents would name their successors and then retire as billionaires after their six year term, the Mexican people came to a certain "understanding" of government. In short, nothing much fazed them, including the American elections.
They "Understood", when out of a population of 285 million, the Republican Party, USA could locate only the son of a former president and former chief of the Secret police as it's candidate. (Though that would have been a stretch even by PRI standards)
They "understood", when the key determining state just happened to be ruled by the brother of the Republican candidate.
They "understood" the amazing complexity of the ballot and ballot boxes, the difficulty of opening, recording, losing, and above all, adding up the votes. The Mexican people came to realize under PRI, that vote counting constitutes a separate, arcane branch of mathematics, like calculus or Boolean Algebra.
They "understood" how it was important that the vote count be supervised and provided with a deadline by the charming appointee of the candidate's brother!
They "understood" how important it was for the Supreme Court to put a stop to this unseemly mess by voting for the candidate whose father put them in power.
The Mexicans were a bit puzzled by the Electoral College, however, and I had to explain to them how Al Gore could get 400,000 more popular votes than George Bush and still not get elected. ( Until now, The PRI always made sure it won by such huge, vast, unchallengeable majorities that the issue could never come up, but there is no question under the Mexican constitution that whoever gets the most popular votes, wins the election -- hence, against all odds, Señor President, Vincinte Fox)
Now, neighbors, after a few of these polite questions at dinner parties, I was sorely tempted to crib a line from that famous old movie "Treasure of the Sierra Madre", and snarl "REASONS! WE GRINGOS DON'T NEED NO STEENKING REASONS! IT'S OUR CONSTITUTION, THAT'S WHY!"
However, every honest question deserves an answer, so I delved back into my 8th grade civics. It seems that the Founding Fathers didn't much trust the people (Revolutionaries are among the most conservative of men--after they have had their revolution) "The people are a great beast" said Alexander Hamilton And, of course, he was right! Any sane man would vote for free beer and wine and Sunday everyday of the week. So, aside from the soothing syrup of the Bill of Rights, the constitution was mainly concerned that the Better Sort of Folks and their property would be safe from you and I. To this end, the rabble were not allowed to vote for U.S. Senators until the 20th century (That task being handled for us by those fonts of liberalism, the rural dominated state legislatures)
Naturally, in a tight presidential election, it is best that the Better Sort decide the winner. Viola! The Electoral College! It has an academic ring to it, and is a much more dignified way of saying your vote doesn't quite count.
The Mexicans politely pretended to understand, and we went on to the next question.
"But why was the election so close?"
"Because there wasn't an apparent dime's worth of difference between the two parties and the two candidates. We're talking about people making decisions based on the candidates neckties and hairstyles!" I replied.
Mexico, on the other hand, has three viable political parties with fairly definite locations on the political spectrum. On the right is PAN, (Party of National Action) which favors business, and Mexico's rising Middle Class and which now has the presidency, but not the legislature. That is held by the CenterLeft_Center Right PRI (Party of Revolutionary Institutions) which, until last year, had run Mexico since 1929. The party on the left is the scrappy PRD (Party of the Democratic Revolution) which doesn't cotton much to the U.S., or organized religion and likes economic planning along the lines of some of the woollier Scandinavian or Israeli socialists. The PRD has a number of seats in the legislature and is chiefly valuable for asking embarrassing questions of the government.
Back in the USA, the Democrats and the Republicans have been acting like the northern branch of the PRI, with the same tweedle-de-dee and tweedle-de-dumber set of candidates, differentiated only by scandal or guilt by association
Yes, neighbors, like Mexico, the U.S. needs three distinct parties. Vote Bullmoose next time!
GLOBALIZATION
The ATM of the local BANOMEX politely provides me with 1500 pesos in the colorful currency of Mexico and,( this is the spooky part,) tells me how many pesos I have left in my bank account back in Wheaton, Maryland.
It's sort of like Juan Valdez rode his mule into my Wheaton, Maryland bank and politely asked the bank manager, Mrs Olgilvy, to change my account from dollars into pesos as "Señor PJ needs some pesos pronto, por favor."
This is incredibly handy and equally eerie.
It means, when you think about it, that the Bank of Mexico, or the Bank of Outer Mongolia for that matter, has a pretty good handle on your finances, should they become curious. It will come to pass that there will be very few secrets in the Global Village of the very near future. (Will the Bank of Outer Mongolia gossip about your bank balance with the Bank of Norway? "Why did he make that big withdrawal?" "Is he seeing another woman on the side?" "Or are they just trying to keep up appearances?" "Can they really afford that car?" and so on.)
So far, this is all to the good. Back in the 18th century, if you chose to visit one of the warmer countries, you had to have a leather pouch of gold sovereigns on your belt, along with a brace of pistols and a rapier, plus two similarly accoutered flunkies traveling fore and aft of your presence, This was to insure that you would spend the sovereigns at your leisure rather than that of the local brigands.
Things improved somewhat in the 19th century when the redoubtable Thomas Cook & Sons invented the travelers cheque. This made theft (and the occasional murder) more difficult for the average bandit and also made the recovery of the value innocently lost travelers checks at least theoretically possible. (One must lean heavily on the word "theoretical" as some travelers cheque firms do not process lost cheque claims with anything approaching cyberspeed.)
Sadly, the travelers check could be subjected to all sorts of "discounting", "service charges" or the clerk's dislike of figuring out the exchange rate. (arithmetic not always in your favor, neighbor!) or flat out refusal to negotiate the cheque.
But with all their defects (including providing the company or bank free interest or "float" on your money until you cashed the travelers cheques) it beat walking around with an inch thick roll of $100 bills on a dark night in Nairobi.
Now. time and progress marches on, and the day of the Travelers cheque is numbered. Sooner or later, they will fade away into travel history, like the stage coach and the transatlantic liners Ah, but even with the ease of electronic money transfer, I must admit I still keep some Travelers cheques squirrel away. After all, it IS an incredible leap of faith to believe you can always get money out of a wall, and besides, what if one became demagnetized?
LIVING IN MEXICO ON A SHOESTRING
Now neighbors, as retirement and death comes to us all (preferably in that order and with decent spacing.) The question arises as where one should reside between the former and the latter.
Now with NPS personnel that can mean a location near their last and final assignment; that is, their "destination park".
The "destination park" is located in the geo-social climate that best suits the retiree's (and spouse's) personality and interests. If the retiree has not irritated the NPS too much and has a hiring friend in the "destination park", he/she should not have too much trouble in securing the "destination park".
This of course, has many benefits. The present and future superintendents of the "destination park" will have the benefit of the retirees free and unlimited advice on how to run the park for the next 20 years. Naturally, the present and future superintendents regard this boon with the same enthusiasm as they would the news that their in-laws plan a permanent stay in their spare bedroom. So, after a few rebuffs, the retiree decides that the present crop of superintendents are not as intelligent or as gracious as him or herself, and that it's time to find a new retirement venue.
Generally speaking, retirees seem to prefer warm and cheap to cold and expensive. (New England is definitely out as an NPS retirement valhalla.) Tucson seems to the preferred location for NPS retirees with around a hundred retired NPS and spouses living within 70 miles of that southern Arizona city (according to an informal survey compiled by retiree Stu Croll.)
The advantages of the Tucson area are many. It is not as cold in the winter as New Jersey and is conveniently located near some very spectacular NPS and Forest Service areas. In addition, the Tucson area is "close to Mexico". This is not quite the benefit it once was. At one time, in the not too distant past, the Mexican American frontier was a frontier in the best sense of the word, with clean air and water (what there was), plenty of wide open spaces and a small but friendly population on both sides of the line. Nowadays, the Meso-American border is a frontier in the bang-bang, shoot 'em up, don't-trust-nobody-but-your mama, sense of the word åôThe drug wars, heavy illegal immigration, and pollution from low rent, low salary catch penny industries have made the Border a much less pleasant place than it used to be. The American writer William Langewiesche in his book "Cutting for Sign", says of the border "The Border is dangerous, the Border is crass. It is not the place to visit on your next vacation". Which is kind of sad when you think about it as about one fifth of the entire Mexican American border is U.S. National Parklands.
So, is it a good idea to be "close to Mexico?" Well, no. It is far, far better to be IN Mexico rather than close to it. By "in" Mexico, I mean deep in Mexico. In addition to the human border problems the frontier states of Chihuahua, Sonora, Cohuila, Nuevo Leon and so on, have the same basic climate as the American Southwest, which means that it's hotter than the Devil's anvil in the summer and colder than Dick Cheney's smile in the winter.
So in order to get flowers and "The land of eternal spring" in January, you need to get yourself up on the Mexican plateau, somewhere south of Zacatecas and not in Mexico City. Will you be happy? Well, I don't rightly know. That's sort of up to you. Abraham Lincoln once remarked that "Most people are about as happy as they want to be" and I suspect that old Abe was correct on that one.
"How much do I need to retire in Mexico"?
That depends. Mexico is a relatively inexpensive country but not THAT inexpensive. In other words, chances are that you will not be rolling in a coach and four up to the gates of your hacienda (Unless you have been playing fast and loose with the park entrance station receipts)
"But won't I get sick and die?"
Yes, eventually. An American passport is no guarantee of eternal life (though we have asked the Great Bear for some sort of waiver for Yanks). However, Mexico is not particularly dangerous to your health (Mexico City excepted) You will probably live as long as your allotted life span in the U.S.
There has been a spectacular improvement in both the Mexican infrastructure and health education. Most Mexicans are now fully on board as to the germ theory. Everyone is encouraged to wash their hands and everyone seems to do it. Bottled water is now available everywhere and it is no longer considered an effete gringo affectation. (At one time, there was a curious belief, even among gringos, that somehow one "got used" to polluted water--not true.)
All this hand washing, health education and bottled water has made for a much healthier population, which means that there are fewer disease carriers out there, meaning that YOUR odds of staying healthy have increased exponentially.
Generally speaking, the old rule of "If you can boil it, cook it, or peel it, you can eat it" still holds true. (Although I have heard that even that Mount Everest of probable dysentery, the fresh, uncooked green salad, has fallen to improved Mexican food handling practices, I have chosen not to bet on it at least in restaurants). The average Mexican market has all the ingredients for spectacular salads and if you take the time to wash the ingredients in the iodine bath sold in most Mexican supermarkets, you should have no trouble.
"But I don't speak Spanish!"
Ah, but you can learn! After all, you did learn English! English is one of the world's most difficult languages. The grammar is not always rational, the spelling bizarre, and there are 40 sounds required to form English words compared to 25 for Spanish. The current president of the United States has studied English for nearly 5 decades, but still has only a limited grasp of the language as anyone who has listened to him stagger through a speech or press conference cannot fail to note.
It is true that after a certain age (which you and I have long since passed) it becomes virtually impossible to pick up a language by osmosis the way children do and it will be necessary for you to take a formal course. You should not find it too difficult, Remember you are learning a language that shares 50% of its vocabulary with English, it is not Basque or Navajo.
In the interim, during the learning process, you will be a constant source of amusement to the locals on what might have been an otherwise dull day for them as you attempt to be understood. It would be a pity to deny them this simple pleasure. Mexicans, unlike the French, take great pleasure in your efforts to speak Spanish. They will encourage you and cheer you on, even if you sound and act like you had a cut rate frontal lobotomy.
Next month we will talk some on the cost of living; that is what the staple groceries cost in the market (the staples, not the weird things). What it costs to rent a house or apartment; the cost and kinds of transportation and stuff like that
So, compadres, Hasta Luego until next month!