MURDER MYSTERY
One does not usually encounter flying bears in bookstores.
This is not entirely true. One does occasionally find them in San Francisco bookstores, most often City Lights Books, but their appearance in East Coast book stores is very rare and was certainly a first sighting in my favorite Barnes & Noble on Montgomery Street in Bethesda, Maryland.
I was browsing quite happily in the Nature/Environment section when he suddenly appeared. A bit over ten feet tall and well over a thousand pounds, Thunderbear could not be ignored.
"Good morning" I said politely.
The Great Bear did not respond, but gestured instead to my pocket. I nodded sheepishly and took out my cell phone. Thunderbear was of course invisible to everyone but myself and the sight of someone babbling about God, Death, Resurrection, and the After life to an unseen visitor, tends to unnerve the average bookstore owner and they tend to call the police, with unfortunate results.
However, if one uses a cell phone as a prop, one can carry on the most outrageous one-sided conversation and no one will consider anything strange.
"You are well!?" The conversational opener seemed as much a command as an inquiry.
"I am well. " I replied.
"Then help me with my measurements!" The Bear ordered, producing a tape measure from his backpack.
Obediently, I held the ring end while Thunderbear unreeled the tape measure.
"14 feet, seven inches for Nature & environment! I had hoped it would be more!" Thunderbear mused sadly as he jotted the figures in his notebook. "Better than "Poetry", but not nearly as good as "Military History". Do you know that "Nature & Environment" is only a third of "Romance" and less than a fourth of "Mysteries"?
The Great Bear was in charge of environment and maintenance for Planet Earth, so I could see it was disturbing to him that people took less interest in his field than they did in bodice ripping regency romances or shoot 'em up thrillers. I tried to console him with the idea that global warming and the unrelated, but still interesting, possible flip of the geomagnetic poles, would cause increased interest in the environment on the part of the public.
That is not the point!" The Bear said solemnly " I am to become a writer of transcendent magnitude whose works will transfix the reader, burning each sentence, paragraph and idea into the reader, causing him to beg for more, more, more! Whose work will be made into a major motion picture and television series and be translated into all the world's languages!"
The Bear imparted this harangue in such a conversational tone that I was quite puzzled until I realized that had absorbed the publishers blurbs from the backs of paperback novels and actually believed this to be a description of a successful writer.
"But what will you write ?" I inquired.
"Murder mysteries!" The Bear said with finality. "There are 53 feet six inches, seven shelves high! That's where the market is!
I had to admire Thunderbear's engineering systems approach to literature.
"But why do you want to write?" I asked (After all, what cosmic difference could it make: we were on a dust mote of a planet in a frontier galaxy in a remote quadrant of a far-flung universe: What possible difference could one more book make, even one written by a flying bear?
The Great Bear rolled his paws with claws up in that gesture of fiscal frustration common to bureaucrats throughout the Universe: "We need the money!" he said simply.
The "We" that Thunderbear referred to was none other than God Almighty and the Heavenly Host.
"You need the money?" I asked, incredulously, "You are pure spirits! How could you possibly needed money?
"We have expenses. " The Bear said impatiently.
"How bad is it? I asked, with visions of God declaring Chapter 11bankruptcy.
"Very bad! I am afraid there will have to be a Universe wide Service Level Adjustment. "
"Service Level Adjustment!" I exclaimed "Does that mean the Sun will be extinguished or the moon will fall into earth? The end of all life as we know it?
"No, of course not!" Thunderbear said disparagingly, " The basic infrastructure of the universe is in good shape. " It is just that we are going to have to, um, modify somewhat the extent of the heavenly rewards we had offered you in return for being Good. In short, what we call a "Service Level Adjustment".
"Then there will be no Afterlife?" I said bitterly, having reached an age where such an event was an ever-increasing possibility, "That's not fair!
"You will get what you were promised as your eternal reward!" Thunderbear said stoutly "It will be future promisees that will be subject to a Service Level Adjustment.
"How so?" I asked suspiciously.
The Great Bear spread his paws apologetically. "Look, we had no idea there would be so many of you or that so many of you would be so damn good! I admit we sort of went overboard on what we promised you as your Eternal Reward. We were a bit too expansive and now we have to make an, ah, adjustment in the goods and services ou will get!
"Such as?" I inquired.
"Well, consider the Moslems. You may have noticed there's quite a lot of them. This means quite a lot of rewards. Each Moslem was promised an inexhaustible fruit garden, plus a river of ice-cold crystal clear water, another river of yogurt, and a river of wine in addition to the 72 virgins. Can you imagine the refrigeration costs ! We lucked out in that the Koran didn't specify which color of wine, so we could get away with red, which doesn't have to be chilled. "
"So how is the Moslem eternal reward being "adjusted" I asked skeptically.
"In a fair and environmentally sound manner!" Thunderbear said with bureaucratic enthusiasm. "Each Moslem will be given an eternal refrigerator, inexhaustibly stocked with bottled water, yogurt, AND a choice of Red or white wine. This will result in less waste and more energy saving!"
"And the 72 virgins?" I asked, mischievously.
"Actually, the 72 "Virgins" are not real people" The Bear said "They are computer generated tangible holograms, but it is an expensive program, so we plan to reduce the number of "virgins" down to four per customer.
" So Service Level Adjustment comes to Islam" I said ironically.
"Everybody must sacrifice a little ! " Irony being lost on flying bears
"Mormons are even more expensive than Moslems! " Thunderbear exclaimed.
"How so?" I asked.
"According our agreement with the founders of that faith, we are obliged provide each deceased moral Mormon with his very own planet over which he will preside in a god like manner. It seemed like an O. K. bargain at the time, as we have billions of spare planets rolling around the Universe, but we had no idea there would be so many Mormons! Do you have any idea how much it costs to get a planet up to speed, complete with life support systems and an evolutionary track so a Mormon bishop can take over? The cost boggles the mind !
By now I could see that Heaven had its problems. The very success of God's Side was generating financial and management problems.
"This is why I am to become an author" The Bear said solemnly "God needs the money!" I will write books and you humans will buy them!"
I was struck by the stark simplicity of the Bear's business plan. However I was obliged to tell the Great Bear that this had been the game plan of every author since the Book of Genesis with only indifferent success for the average author. I patiently explained that first you must have something that will interest one's potential readership.
Knowing that the Bear's background and training was in hydrology and that Thunderbear had prepared the Celestial Environmental Impact Statements for not only Noah's flood, but also Moses 'Parting of the Red Sea and Christ's Walk on the Water at the Sea of Galilee. "I think your readership would be interested in how the Lord pulled those stunts off.
"They were not "stunts" The Bear said angrily. "They were paranormal events. Besides, I doubt if it would sell! Romance & Murder outsell Science four to one!"
As I could not imagine the Great Bear writing a Romance novel, it was clear that he was going down the murder mystery trail.
I was not to be disappointed.
The Bear rose to his full height of ten feet plus and spread his wings out some 28 feet through the bookstore, stretching from "Investing with Martha Stewart" to "The Wisdom of George Bush". It was a peacock like gesture that always prefaced his most solemn pronouncements.
As if announcing the Second Coming, Thunderbear said " I am writing an environmental murder mystery based on a true incident!" A novel that will expose corporate greed, and also make a potful of money for God"
"An environmental murder mystery! Well now! That should be interesting to the public!" I said encouragingly.
"I think so!" The Bear said proudly. Do you know anything about Rudolph Diesel. "
Easy question, easy answer: "A bit. " I responded "Turn of the 20th century German engineer-inventor. Developed the Diesel engine. "
"Do you know anything about his death?"
"A bit mysterious, as I recall. "
"You are correct". On the evening of September 29, 1913, Rudolph Diesel boarded the night mail ship "Dresden " at the Belgian port of Antwerp to cross the English Channel on a routine business trip to England. When the ship docked at Harwich the next morning, Diesel had vanished. A week later his body was discovered floating in the Channel,
"Cause of death?" I asked, noncomittally
"Drowning/Exposure. The Channel is very cold. " Replied the Bear
"Well, there you have it!" I said "No foul play! A simple accident. The Channel can be quite rough. Diesel was probably a bit seasick. Went topside to lose his dinner. A rogue wave hit the ship as he was leaning over the rail and he went over the side. It was dark and the engine noise covered his cries for help. No mystery there. "
"The meteorological reports state that the Channel was unusually calm that evening, " countered Thunderbear.
"Then I'm afraid that we must consider the possibility of suicide" I responded, "Perhaps a business reversal, an incurable illness, an unfortunate or inappropriate love affair Any number of reasons. A considerate, thoughtful person might do away with himself in such a manner that would allow friends and relatives to console them selves that it was an accident. So where's your mystery?"
"Herr Diesel's business was going quite well; he was in excellent health for a human of 55; He was quite happily married and possessed strong religious scruples against suicide. Moreover, the owner and chief Engineer of the "Dresden" had dinner with him and reported him to be in excellent spirits. I believe he was thrown from the deck of the "Dresden".
"You believe! Why don't you know!! I said scornfully, "Diesel's up in Heaven, isn't he? Can't you just ask him if he fell, jumped, or was pushed, and if so, why!"
The Great Bear stroked his muzzle disdainfully. "You can't be serious! One of the rewards of heaven is freedom from being asked questions about your life or motives! (According to the Bear, this was one reason most journalists and lawyers go to Hell. ) Besides, I must remind you that this is a remote planet in a frontier galaxy far, far from Heaven, communication is difficult. "
"What we must do is use the facts that we have at hand. This is how mysteries are solved is it not? " I could only agree.
"Now then" The Bear said briskly, "If we agree that Rudolph Diesel was murdered, then we must determine a motive. Once we have determined a motive, that motive should direct us to the killer. Is that not the formula?"
I had to agree that that was the formula for most murder mysteries.
"Consider the time of Diesel's death. Does anything strike you about September 29, 1913? Do you think it might have some relation to August, 1914?"
"August, 1914; the beginning of the First World War!" I exclaimed!
"Precisely. War clouds had been forming well before 1913. The intelligence agencies of the various powers, Great Britain, France, The Austro-Hungarian Empire, Germany, Russia would have been seeking information--or considering the elimination of a potential enemy scientist. Tell me, what is the first thing that enters your mind?"
"Nicole Kidman in a low cut gown" I said absently
The Great Bear nearly tripped over his wings "I beg your pardon! He exclaimed.
"Or perhaps Gwennth Paltrow" I continued dreamily "Depends who has the best décolletage; we can get them to audition. "
"What on God's Earth are you talking about!" Thunderbear fairly roared.
"Look, if you are going to sell your novel to Hollywood or television you are going to have to have some love interest. Nicole Kidman could play a patriotic French countess sent by the Deuxieme Bureau sent to seduce Professor Diesel and get him to defect to France. "
"But the Deuxieme Bureau was not involved!" The Bear said with finality.
"No matter! Kidman can play a patriotic German countess trying to lure him back! He was on his way to England wasn't he?"
"On routine business. Besides the German Imperial Secret Service was not involved in Diesel's fall. " Thunderbear said with conviction.
"But if not Germany and France, then who?"
"Consider motive" The Bear said patiently "Tell me, of the potential belligerents, England France, Germany, Russia, the Ottoman Empire and Austria-Hungary, which is the only one that had to import basic food stocks? " "That would be England" I replied,
"Correct" said the Bear "Now then, what do you think would be the wisest military application of a relatively compact and relatively efficient power source such as the Diesel engine?"
"Submarines? " I responded.
"Very good! " Thunderbear said, with the condescension of a headmaster easing a particularly dull pupil along the path of Reason. (I could see that we would have to have Gweneth Paltrow as the countess as she could do an English accent better than Nicole Kidman!)
"Now then!" continued the Bear, "We have the motive, which should now direct us to the killer! Who was England's First Lord of the Admiralty in 1913, the one man responsible for Britain's naval and food security, in short, the very survival of England?"
"That would be Winston Churchill!" I exclaimed.
The Great Bear grinned broadly
"Good Lord! Are you implying that Sir Winston Churchill ordered the assassination of one of the leading scientists of the day, Herr Professor Rudolph Diesel?
Thunderbear dissolved in a paroxysm of ursine laughter and clapped me on the back with a force that nearly drove my vertebrae into my sternum.
"No! Of course not! The Bear said through tears of laughter "Churchill and MI-5 are also innocent. Churchill could be quite ruthless in both world wars, but he did draw the line at murder, generally speaking, and certainly in the case of civilians
"But why are you laughing? " I asked irritably, not liking being made fun of.
"Because the Red Haddock worked!
"Red Haddock?" I asked, puzzled.
"It's a device we mystery writers use! We lay a trail of false clues to lead you to the wrong suspect! Makes the mystery more interesting. "
"I believe it's called a "red herring" not a "red haddock" I said grimly.
"Whatever!" The Bear said gaily "I thought I'd try the plot out on you ! It worked!
"Just a moment ", I said, "If Diesel didn't have an accident or, commit suicide and was not murdered by one of the secret services of six major powers, then who or what killed him?
The Great Bear gave me a conspiratorial wink "Who do you think?"
I had to admit I had not the foggiest.
"Who runs things on this planet?" He asked.
"Um, the President? " I replied, patriotically.
Thunderbear shot me that look of pity usually reserved for the sadder cases of mental retardation "I mean the people who REALLY run this planet!"
Before I could answer, The Bear continued "You need some background. Rudolph Diesel was pretty remarkable for a human. He was a social philosopher as well as an engineer. He felt that the inefficient steam engine concentrated wealth and power in the hands of a relatively few people because you had to be rich to own and operate a steam engine. Because it was inefficient, the steam engine had to be comparatively huge, required a great deal of steel to manufacture, was difficult to mass produce, required constant maintenance, was extremely dangerous, and required a huge amount of fossil fuel in the form of coal, which was always supplied by yet another rich man.
Diesel scoffed at the ideas of his fellow German, Karl Marx, who believed that if the proletariat had control of the steam engines then all would be well. Diesel realized that it would simply lead to another set of bosses and that the tyranny would essentially be the same, just different names.
Diesel believed that if he could develop a comparatively small, efficient engine that could be mass produced and would run on vegetable oil rather than fossil fuel oil, then the artisan or farmer would quite literally own the means of production and transport. Vegetable oil fuel would mean that the artisan or farmer would be totally independent of such oligargic companies such as Standard Oil or Royal Dutch Shell. Diesel believed, incorrectly as it turned out, that the world would very shortly run out of fossil petroleum and that the planet's energy sources had to be renewable. At the 1900 World's Fair, he demonstrated Diesel engines running on peanut oil.
"Diesel was a remarkable visionary", I admitted.
"But some did not share his vision" The Bear observed. "I think you can guess who".
"You mean--"
"Yes, a small delegation of oilmen, some European, some American, booked passage on the "Dresden" that fatal night. Their mission was to make Professor Diesel an an offer he couldn't refuse. The problem was that he did refuse, and in desperation, they decided to take other measures. Diesel was a strong and brave man and gave a good account of himself, but they were too many for him. "
"You have proof of these accusations?" I gasped.
"Proof? Why would I need proof? It's only a mystery novel!" The Bear said mockingly. "But to answer your question, yes, I do have proof, people in those days tended to keep diaries, and there are some incriminating letters and memoranda as well as the "Dresden "passenger manifest for that evening. It's all in the package. !
"Package"? I asked.
"Yup! My manuscript package!" Thunderbear said, deftly extracting a large manila wrapped package from his backpack and placed it in my hands. The package was still warm to the touch due to Transubstantiation, the process of turning a celestial thought into an earthly solid.
"And I am to do what with this?" I said, half realizing the answer.
"You are to get the manuscript into the hands of the best mystery publisher in the country as soon as possible! Until that moment, you must guard the manuscript with your life and stay alert! The Oil men are everywhere. "
With that, the Great Bear vanished and I was left alone in the Nature/Environment section wondering whether Nicole Kidman or Gwennth Paltrow would make the best Texas Oil gal.
Well, not entirely alone. As I turned to go, I nearly bumped into an elderly gentleman in a Western suit complete with Stetson and cowboy boots.
"Pardon me, son, but could you direct me to any book that gets the goods on that four flushin' scoundrel, George Bush, and that horny toad side kick of hisn, Dick Cheney! Ah can't stand what they're doin' to the environment! "
Glad to help another True Believer, I set the package down and began pulling my favorite anti -pillaging books off the shelf. I had barely gotten to the Edward Abbey shelf when I turned and noticed that the Texan was gone.
So was Thunderbear's manuscript.
THE OTHER SHOE
The National Park Service managed to drop a shoe that resonated not only through the halls of Congress but also through the national media.
We are referring the now famous proposed "Service Level Adjustment"
The crash of this falling brogan was amplified by the usual stupidity of at least one regional office which forbade the use of the verb "cut" and insisted on the use of the term "Service Level Adjustment" if any "civilians" had the temerity to question NPS judgement.
The insistence on the Orwellian Newspeak jargon of "Service Level Adjustment" not only displays the condescending contempt of WASO and region for the intelligence of the American public, but also an arrogant belief that "subordinates" will be so intimidated that they would not immediately leak such shenanigans to Congress and the Media.
The leakers were not to be disappointed. Both Congress and the Media responded with enthusiasm.
Fran Mainella was instructed by Congress to check her petty cash box or under the cushions of the office sofa for any spare change that might be used to avoid closing parks or curtailing services in the National Parks.
After hunting about a bit, Fran did find a little discretionary money; $94 million in annual travel funds.
Now neighbors, to Washington sophisticates like Fran and myself, $94 million is turkey feed, a budgetary rounding error, spilled pennies hardly worth picking up: hardly the value of free subsidized parking for Washington's numerous Very Important People. You can readily see how the $94 million might have slipped Fran's mind.
Still, to Joe and Mary Sixpak of Woonsockett, South Dakota, $ 94 million IS a lot of dollars! It is, after all, the family income of around 200 generations of Sixpaks.
Equally important in the eyes of Joe and Mary, the money is NOT being spent on saving Bambi or Bobby Buffalo, but rather on that rarest of Sixpak pleasures; travel!
You see, Joe and Mary are not jaded like you and I. Unlike us, they do not regard a cross-country airplane flight as a bothersome chore. The Sixpaks fly only for the most compelling of reasons, usually funerals or weddings.
It does no good to tell Joe and Mary that most NPS travel is to such sybaritic pleasure domes as Boise, Idaho. You see, Dan Rather and my fellow South Dakotan Tom Brokaw have already told Joe and Mary of NPS staff merrily jetting off to those far away places with the strange sounding names that Joe and Mary will not visit in this lifetime.
In addition, Dan and Tom have told them that there will be certain "Service Level Adjustments" (Wry smile and toss of the eyebrows on Tom's part!) Both Dan and Tom helpfully translate this NPS opacity for Joe and Mary: Among other things, Joe and Mary better not ask too many questions as there will not be many rangers to answer them. In addition, Mary and little Jennifer will have to learn to "hold it" as fewer of the park "comfort stations" may be open this season. (Joe and Joe Jr. can go in the woods, like the bears!)
In short, Joe and Mary Sixpak are ticked! They e-mail their Congressman. The Congressman is only too happy to respond, as "Defending The Honest American Taxpayer Against Stupid Bureaucrats" is part of the Congressional self-image.
The print media also got into the act, with one journalist suggesting that Mainella and her staff could raise funds by donning clown costumes and performing for the public " As this seems to be what they do best. "
Another journalist suggested that instead of putting up at a $125 a night Holiday Inn, the NPS traveler could go camp in the park. " (While the idea of course is impractical, your editor admits that the thought of a WASO or Regional Princeling being issued a one person tent, sleeping bag, gas stove and duffel bag of freeze dried food at the beginning of the fiscal year, is most intriguing!)
In time of course, the journalistic and congressional storm blew over. Promises were extracted from Ms Mainella: Foreign travel was forbidden and domestic travel severely curtailed, with each trip requiring strenuous justification. Things slowly began to return to normal at WASO.
But hark! What of the other shoe! What if it should fall?
The other shoe? What on earth are we talking about!
A small but potentially lethal public relations problem, neighbors.
You see, I was talking to a friend called Fred in the Department of Agriculture. Fred's job is to keep the nation's poultry supply healthy, clucking, and numerous. What with 9/11 and the Asian bird flu epidemic, this has kept Fred hopping, as in on and off airplanes. I commiserated with Fred as this constant flying is hard on family life. Fred allowed as how it was, but there was a silver lining. Fred was really ramping up frequent flyer mileage and he and the spouse would be able to take a free flight to Hawaii! I told Fred that I thought the DOA got the mileage. Nope, Fred got it.
Now I thought this windfall to be a bit unusual and was curious about how the NPS handled such matters. I e-mailed an esteemed NPS colleague and he in turn checked with a person even higher up the NPS food chain. That person replied that yes, indeed, the traveler was allowed to keep the frequent flyer mileage for his or her own use "As to do otherwise would be too complicated. "
Well, gee!
I immediately thought of Joe and Mary Sixpak back in Woonsockett, South Dakota. What if they believed that NPS types not only fly off to India on a fact finding tour to settle once and for all that vexing question of whether the Taj Mahal is best viewed by moonlight or at sunrise AND in addition, they got to keep all those frequent flyer miles for the very own. Would Joe and Mary be unhappy? Would Joe and Mary accept the excuse "We don't want to steal the mileage, but we are too stupid to do otherwise?"
On the other hand, neighbors, perhaps your editor has been massively misinformed. Perhaps we can tell Joe and Mary that this is some sort of urban legend, like spider eggs in candy bars; that no agency would allow such an obvious opportunity for graft, malfeasance, and favoritism! Of Course!
But on the other hand, if there is a smidgen of truth, then it might be a good idea to get some 14 year old computer geek to design a soft ware package that would transfer the frequent flyer mileage to an agency account rather than to the travelers.
It might be a good idea to do this before the other shoe drops and Joe and Mary (And Dan and Tom) find out.
DEPRIVED DELAWARE
Recently, there has been a brief flurry in the Delaware congressional delegation over the fact the Delaware is the only state that does not have at least one unit of the much-esteemed U. S. National Park System.
The implication that our second smallest state is deficient in anything of national significance in cultural or natural history has a negative impact on Delaware's morale.
Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and the National Park Service responded to the Delaware Congressional delegation with little flurries of its own.
One flurry or faction might be called the Aspirin or "thinning of the blood " faction. The Aspirin faction led by former NPS Director Jim Ridenhour does not want the NPS roster of sites to be "thinned" by substandard sites that are of only state or local significance (or in some unfortunate instances of no known significance. ) There must be no compromise! If poor little Delaware has nothing of value to add to the national patrimony, then so be it! It shall not, or at least should not, be added to the roster of National Park Units!
However, there is another, more pragmatic NPS faction which might be called "The Sow's Ear " faction. The somewhat cynical philosophy of this faction is that with enough money, any historical or natural history "sow's ear" can be turned into a silk purse. That is, there is no historical or natural history site so prosaic, or so pedestrian and commonplace, that intensive research cannot turn up at least ONE feature that makes the site somehow unique.
It must be admitted that Delaware does pose an interesting challenge to park planners.
You see, Delaware composes the "Del" part of the Delmarva Peninsula, an appendix of land that hangs down from the intestines of New Jersey. The Peninsula is shared by Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia and forms the eastern side of Chesapeake Bay.
The Delmarva Peninsula is basically a long gravel pile left over from the last Ice Age. Now there is nothing wrong with this, but gravel piles do not lend themselves to spectacular landscapes. In short, there is nothing in Delaware, that thunders, towers, erupts, or awestrikes. The highest peak in Delaware is 450-foot Mount Ebright (which unfortunately has a trailer park on its summit). The highest Delaware waterfall is unknown to your editor, but it is unlikely that people honeymoon there or go over it in a barrel.
The largest rare and endangered mammal in Delaware is the Delmarva Squirrel, which has inconsiderately removed most of its population to the Virginia portion of the peninsula, plus it is difficult to build a national park around a squirrel.
Moreover, little Delaware has been exposed to 300 years of intensive "development" which means that just about everything natural has been plowed up, sawed up, or built up, at least once. Such is the case of the Great Cypress Swamp "The northernmost bald cypress swamp" in Sussex county, where the very valuable virgin bald cypress was logged off long ago and the area subjected to periodic fires. Also, the Sussex county movers and shakers seem to have a case of NIMBY and don't want their favorite huntin' ground turned into a park.
As far as natural areas go, that's just about it, with the possible exception of Cape Henlopen State Park, a well used strip of beach and dunes at the entrance of Delaware Bay. Cape Henlopen has some interesting World War II anti-submarine towers, but the State Park people are doing a good enough job (probably have more money than the NPS) so there is no particular reason to turn it into a so-so National seashore.
That leaves us with history, of which, fortunately Delaware has a lot, having gotten in on the ground floor of the American saga.
There is the 350-year-old town of New Castle (which some historians say has more neat buildings than Williamsburg) and which of course, would cost a hefty chunk of the NPS annual budget to maintain. However, the logical favorite seems to a memorial to Delaware's quiet hero, Caesar Rodney. Rodney was one of the minor figures of the Revolutionary period. "Rodney's ride" is celebrated on the reverse of the Delaware quarter. The quarter was probably most Americans ' introduction to Caesar Rodney, though his ride was certainly more important than that of Paul Revere.
Rodney was one of three Delaware delegates to the Continental Congress meeting in Philadelphia in the summer of 1776. Rodney was temporarily absent from the Congress and was staying at Dover when word reached him that his presence was urgently needed at Philadelphia. A final vote on independence was being taken and it was by no means a done deal. Several colonies were wavering, notably New York and Delaware. One of the Delaware delegates present at Philadelphia was for Independence, the other was loyal to the crown. As Rodney was known to favor independence his presence and vote were necessary to break the tie.
The problem was that the vote would be taken July 2, It was now the evening of July 1, and Philadelphia was 80 miles away. Rodney would have to ride all night.
He did. Staggering into what is now Independence Hall to cast his historic vote on July 2.
If the NPS decided to do an annual historical reenactment of Rodney Ride, it would be an impossibly heroic and poignant event. The historical reenactor would have to be suffering from asthma and dying of cancer as was the case with Rodney. Moreover, he would have to gallop down a pitch black country lane through a raging thunderstorm, a human lightning rod for hour after hour. Caesar Rodney was not a man you meet every day.
Caesar Rodney began his ride from "The Green" a historic square in Dover laid out by William Penn and completed in 1717. One building that was extant in 1776 or the entire square could be acquired by the NPS. A "Rodney's Ride" historic trail and bridal path could be constructed between Dover and Independence Hall which is rather famously in the hands of the NPS. So that should take care of Delaware.
Or does it? Are we sure we didn't overlook anything else of national significance in Delaware?
Now neighbors, sometimes folks are just too close to the book to read the print! That seems to be the case with the Delaware Congressional Delegation and all the Delaware Universities and historical societies.
That's the only reason one can think of for not considering the 800 pound gorilla of Delaware (and American) history, The Du Pont De Nemours Family & Corporation as a potential national historic site.
We have been practicing "Better Living (and dying) Through Chemistry" with these folks for more than 150 years. They don't call Delaware "The Duchy of Du Pont" for nothing. For better or for worse, the Du Ponts have shaped much of modern America. Where would we be without Dupont explosives, cellophane, nylon, Teflon and so on! More importantly, while they didn't invent the corporation, they crafted and fine-tuned it carefully into the marvelous beast it is in our times. Indeed, to this day, Delaware is the most favored state to file papers for incorporation.
So where would we place Du Pont National Historic Site?
The most spectacular Du Pont estate is Longwood Gardens, former home of Pierre Du Pont, with its spectacular fountains, gardens, baronial mansion and art collection. Unfortunately, it is in Pennsylvania, which sort of defeats the purpose of this exercise.
The second most important site is another country estate called "Winterthur, " not far from Wilmington, Delaware (fortunately Delaware is compact enough that nothing is very far from Wilmington) In addition to magnificent gardens, "Winterthur " boasts a remarkable collection of early American antiques as well as the usual baronial mansion.
However, the best choice is the Hagley Museum & Library, also near Wilmington. It is located on the Brandywine creek and consists of a magnificently restored 19th century factory village specializing in the production of black powder with the powder mills still operable. Hagley also presents the Du Pont family's beautiful first mansion and associated gardens and a discussion of the family history and many charities and accomplishments, The Hagley library is a research facility dealing with the growth of the American corporation and it alone is worthy of inclusion in the NPS collection.
It must be pointed out that the Hagley Museum & Library is not a"Steamtown USA". It is an experienced Living History site that will not require 50 million in additional funds to get up to speed. It is basically a "turn key " operation. We need only to nail the NPS arrowhead plaque to the front gate and send in the lads and lassies in gray and green.
Would it be possible to get the Du Pont Family Trust to cede the Hagley Museum & Library to the NPS? Well, I don't know, neighbors. Certain things are sensitive.
The Du Pont Family, like your family and my family, have certain members and matters that they would prefer not to discuss, at least in public (An example might be the 1934 General Smedley Butler affair). The NPS could honor the Dupont family privacy by agreeing to do the Statement for Interpretation and Scope of Collection s before the site was ceded to the NPS so that the Family could participate and approve these documents. In addition, family members would continue to sit on the Museum board to monitor NPS interpretation in the future. With these provisos in effect, I think that the Delaware Congressional Delegation could approach the Du Pont Family with the suggestion of honoring Delaware and one of America's first families with a national historic site.
Indeed, between Caesar Rodney and the Du Ponts, Delaware need not hunger for a unit of the National Park System much longer!
DEACCESSIONING A TURKEY
Recently, there was a mob scene in the Texas Panhandle town of Fritch. It hadn't rained in that part of Texas since Noah was a lad, and Texans tend to get testy when it doesn't rain. They have to blame somebody and since they can't curse God 'cause they're too religious, they have to attack the Feds.
Now the only Federal presence (root of all evil, according to Texans) in the Panhandle happens to be the somewhat woebegone Lake Meredith National Recreation Area.
Not that there is anything wrong with Lake Meredith National Recreation Area. In good times it's a pleasant enough medium sized high plains reservoir, nothing special, but a nice enough place to run a power boat. There's a prehistoric flint quarry if you're into that sort of thing. All in all, it is a rather innocuous site. The only problem is the word "National". You see, few Sierra Club members plan to have their ashes scattered over the sacred waters of Lake Meredith. Boy Scout troops in Minnesota do not raise funds for a trip of a lifetime to Lake Meredith. People who buy 60-foot Bertram yachts at the New York Boat show do not load them on flatbeds and take them to Lake Meredith as the ultimate destination. Lake Meredith is a very local site serving the water recreational needs of the Texas Panhandle.
So the question arises, why, exactly, is this area a unit of the National Park System?
Now, neighbors, this embarrassing question need not have arisen had the Texans been good sports and kept their collective mouth shut. However, asking Texans to look, listen, and think before talking is asking a bit much of the Texas psyche.
You see, as the lake level drops as it usually does dramatically in most reservoirs, it is necessary to extend the boat launching ramps farther and farther to reach what is the new shore of the reservoir. As most lakes tend to get deeper and deeper the farther out you go, this means the gradient gets steeper and the chances that the weekend sailors will have an accident backing their boats down the ramp increase geometrically. So does the possibility of Tort Claims against the government for "negligence".
Now neighbors, Tort Claims against the Federal government have been called "The Middle Class Lottery" Uncle Sam has notoriously deep pockets, so much so that some lawyers will accept a Tort claim against Uncle on a contingency basis. A successful claim could theoretically bankrupt the NPS.
So, in self-defense, park superintendents are famously safety conscious. In the case of Lake Meredith, this meant closing access ramps one by one as the experienced park maintenance man voted them unsafe.
This led to the boisterous town meeting in Fretch in which the Concerned Citizens became angry at what the "govmint" was doin' to "their" park. Various spokesperson got up to state that Lake Meredith NRA would be far, far better off if Lake Meredith was a Texas State Park or even a local county park! "Hear, Hear! Huzzah "!
Now friends, breathes there a superintendent with soul so dead that he/she has not yearned to leap up and shout "BINGO! YOU BOOBS HAVE JUST WON YOURSELVES A COUNTY PARK!" while tossing the keys to the park gates and visitor center into the howling mob of indignant locals and adding that by sun up a fleet of moving vans and low boys would arrive to transport all detachable and portable government property and staff to an NPS unit that bore some semblance of being of national significance.
Satisfying as this scenario might be, it will not happen. Someday it will rain in the Texas Panhandle and Lake Meredith will refill and local surliness will return to normal carping criticism, and the NPS will still be stuck with this turkey.
While the NPS does have quite a few of the nation's "Crown Jewels" it also has quite a few of the nation's "Paste Pearls", areas that should never have become units of the National Park System. Lake Meredith NRA is one of them ; there are others.
How do Lake Merediths happen? Doesn't the NPS know any better?
Well yes, of course it does. The Park Service has rather exacting criteria for areas that are deemed to be of national significance. In fact, Harpers Ferry has produced a very nice multi-colored brochure that can be requested by Concerned Citizens that believe that the picturesque pile of rocks (PPR) outside their town might be of "National Significance". The brochure lays out the terms of scientific interest, uniqueness, lack of representation in the NPS inventory and so on. At no point does the brochure suggest that "National Significance" would be providing a touristic cash cow to a decaying rural or urban area.
Indeed, NPS criteria for new parklands sort of resembles those old Civics Class explanations of "How a bill becomes a law" that satirists like Dave Barry love to lampoon.
In a perfect preservation world, the village proprietors of a picturesque pile of rocks (PPR) would be gently told by the NPS that their PPR "While lovely and of great local and even state significance " has no national significance from either a scientific or historical standpoint.
However, in real life, the Villagers arm themselves with a report from a friendly geologist that their PPR is "unique", (Indeed it is, as PPR's are like geological snowflakes, no two are exactly alike"). They also get a report from a friendly archeologist that the petroglyphs present "Are found nowhere else" (Again, this is literally correct, unless you believe in wandering petroglyphs). The villagers then go to their Congressmen. If the villagers are in luck, their Congressmen head important committees and can demand "assistance" with a local interest bill as a price of allowing Congress to do other business. ! Voila! The Villagers PPR is now PPR National Monument and a cash cow for the hopeful Villagers, who start carping against the NPS and the hapless PPR superintendent if revenue expectations are not met.
Now do we have a real life turkey example other than Lake Meredith NRA?
Well, yes. Consider that Alabama turkey, Little River Canyon Preserve.
Recently (4/19/04) Jerry Rogers, a crusty trusty former regional director, wrote an interesting letter to the membership of the Coalition of Retired NPS Employees, on just how Little River Canyon National Preserve (LIRI) came into existence.
Rogers letter deserves to be quoted.
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"The National Park Service's professional studies and evaluations of Little River Canyon back in 1992 had concluded that the canyon did not meet criteria for inclusion in the National Park System. NPS people did not have a general consensus that national preserves were desirable (Hunting is usually allowed in a national preserve--Ed) and the administration opposed proposals to create many new units, calling the trend "thinning the blood".
After due application of normal planning and legislative review processes, the NPS recommended, the Department of Interior supported and the Office of Manpower and Budget cleared a position opposing the creation of Little River Canyon National Preserve. And sent it back down to guide the testimony of the National Park Service's designated witness. For whatever reason--unavailability of the Director, Deputy Director, or other Associate Director whose responsibilites might have been more directly related to the resources of Little River Canyon--I was designated as the administration's witness to present and defend the cleared testimony in hearings before the Senate Subcommittee. After being briefed about the bill, the Canyon and why the place did not meet "Criteria for Parklands" I dutifully went to the hearing room in the Dirksen Building. One or two of the subcommittee members had already taken their places. And I was finishing the normal chitchat with people in the audience and about to take my seat when a Department of Interior Counsel staff person rushed into the room and handed me a paper, saying "Here is your new position" Even though the subcommittee staff already had copies of the previous official testimony in opposition, the new statement supported the legislation to create the preserve! This was the only time I ever simply submitted a statement for the record without summarizing it and making no attempt to answer any of the questions from Senators who tried their best to appear incredulous although they knew without being told that Trent Lott had made contact with the right person in the Administration with an offer that could not be refused. . " |
Now then, neighbors! Mr. Rogers has given you a pretty good idea of what was going on in his neighborhood and why he was unable, through no fault of his own, to do anything about it.
It would be nice to stop these turkeys in their tracks, but failing that, is there any way to deaccession them? Now your editor realizes that deaccessioning is a double-edged sword. There are many folks in Utah which would dearly like to see some of Bill Clintons national monuments, particularly the majestic and magnificent Escalante-Grand Staircase National Monument deaccessioned, even though it is obviously of national park caliber.
Granted, often a great deal of local pride is involved, but that can often be assuaged by combining it with a larger entity as when substandard little Platt National Park became part of Chickasaw National Recreation Area (which, barring mass demonstrations, could be eased into a very nice Oklahoma state park. )
America's second national park, Michigan's Mackinac Island (1875) became Michigan's first state park in 1895. South Dakota 's Fossil Cycad National Monument bit the dust long ago, as did North Dakota's Sully's Hill National Park. The Oklahoma City Memorial was essentially overtaken by events (9/11) and was deaccessioned. I will have to ask Clay Cunningham whatever became of Shoshone Caverns National Monument outside his home town of Cody, Wyoming.
So it is possible to get rid of a turkey. Perhaps "turkey" is a bit unkind. These parks were often the work of dedicated local amateur preservationists who sincerely believed that their local piece of America was unique, incredibly precious, and certainly of national significance. They spent much of their own time and money and endured ridicule and criticism to accomplish their goal: That their goal was essentially of local or state significance should not detract from their dedication.
Obviously, preventing a poor park is more desirable that getting rid of one.
How does one do that? Probably transparency. It is true that someone like Trent Lott is pretty hard to stop, but if the environmental reporters of the over vaunted NEW YORK TIMES or WASHINGTON POST had been on the ball, they would have obtained leaked copies of the conflicting LIRI testimony and had a field day (and maybe a Pulitzer prize)
In the meantime, you can amuse yourselves by compiling lists of NPS units you think could stand deaccessioning and we can start some hot arguments among the readership.
REPUBLICANS FOR KERRY
Readers were heartened to learn that Dave Mihalic, "The Hero of the Smokies", will be seeking the Lieutenant governorship of Montana on the Republican ticket. You will remember Mihalic as an outstanding and principled Bullmoose Republican who sacrificed his NPS career and resigned as superintendent of Great Smoky National Park rather than be a part of a scheme to put an environmentally disastrous road through a sensitive portion of Great Smoky National Park.
Now the vast, overwhelming number of NPS superintendents and managers are Republican. (There are some liberals in the managerial ranks of the NPS, but the numbers are so small as to be statistically insignificant. )
Why does this seem to be the case as there are somewhat more Democrats than Republicans and the National Park System is America's only socialist experiment? The answer is both historical and sociological. The National Parks concept was hammered out by such Republican luminaries as Lincoln, Grant, Muir, Theodore Roosevelt, Mather, and Albright. The park units themselves tend to be located in hardscrabble areas where the locals are conservative and suspicious of unfamiliar ideas. Therefore it is comforting to the local establishment that the park superintendent is at least as conservative as they are.
Secondly, NPS managers tend to come from farms, ranches, small towns and suburbs, which tend to be more conservative than liberal.
Thirdly, the NPS is one of the police arms of the Federal government and most NPS managers tend to rise through the "protective" (police ) division of the NPS and police cadres are"liberal "only in the world of television drama.
Last, but certainly not least, NPS management is based on the top -down military/model, which tends to encourage a more conservative approach rather than the Academic/Scholastic model of management.
So then, we see why NPS managers tend to be Republican.
Fortunately, for the sake of the parks, the vast majority of NPS managers were (and are) Bullmoose Republicans. That is, they follow the environmental tradition of Theodore Roosevelt and his followers. (There have been some exceptions that followed the Bush/Cheney Greedhead Republican tradition, but they are, fortunately, few in number.
From an environmental standpoint, the election of 2004 will be like no other in our nation's history. It will be the conservation equivalent of Gettysburg. Forget about Weapons of Mass Destruction, The Amazing Deficit on Steroids, and the sweet heart deals for cronies and the rest of the trivia. Four more years of Bush will devastate the public land environment as we know it! This is not hyperbole! Forest Fires will be prevented by preventing forests. Public lands will be so degraded by "Resource" extraction that it will be prohibitively expensive to rehabilitate them at public expense and the only "logical" solution will be to sell them as damaged goods at fire sale prices to the "right" private individuals or corporations.
One of the worst results will be a grid of "access" roads as dense as the mesh of a screen door throughout our public lands to "facilitate " timber removal, fire suppression and oil land gas extraction. These roads will remain long after the last merchantable tree is cut or the last cubic meter of gas is pumped. The ORV and snow machine associations will demand that the roads be kept open for "recreation", ensuring year round moaning intrusion and wildlife harassment into every corner of our public lands.
The right to hunt, fish, or even walk on Forest Service or Bureau of Land Management will be severely restricted due to the imposition of regressive user fees and new regulations stating when and where you may be go on public land. Farfetched? Not really! The "model" is already in place in the form of Valles Grande National Preserve in New Mexico. If this experiment "works", it will be extended to every one of the nation's national forests. The Valles Grande National Preserve concept is based on the Texas private land use idea in which the private land owner has absolute right to forbid trespass and can enforce this right in Texas with beatings and shootings (as several botanists have painfully discovered)
Neither Republicans Gifford Pinchot nor Theordore Roosevelt had this scenario in mind for the future of our national forests.
True, most units of National Park System will remain more or less intact, but not as "Islands of Hope" but rather as beleaguered fortresses under constant siege. The ecosystems that had buffered their largely artificial boundaries will have been shattered. Heavy demands for more consumptive recreational use of park lands will be made by both friend and foe of the parks; each demanding this one little exception to regulations until there is nothing left to regulate.
This is not what Republican Steve Mather envisioned for the national parks.
Richard Nixon may not have been "the" environmental President, but he was certainly "an" environmental president, establishing the Environmental Protection Agency and standing like a beacon of conservation compared to the present set of Greedheads. Russell Train, a life long Republican who forged environmental policy under both Nixon and Ford stated that "Not only does President Bush ignore the ethical responsibilities in matters of environmental stewardship, he fails to understand the complex relationship between economics and environmental concerns and the long time consequences of setting policies so strong in favor of the energy industry. "
So what can you do as a devout bullmoose Republican?
Well, you can join "Republicans for Kerry". Who are they?
According to their blurb: "We're a group of Republicans that have been supportive of and active in the Republican Party for most of our adult life. We believe in the Republican Party values of fiscal responsibility, individual freedom, environmental protection, energy conservation and honesty: In the Republicans value of strong defense for the purpose of protecting this country and world peace.
This is the party of Lincoln and should stand for freedom and civil liberty for all.
Every one of us has struggled through a painful realization that in order to save our country and the Republican Party, we have to oppose this President who has acted so contrary to our values.
We have come to respect John Kerry for his character and for his belief in and pursuit of many of our moderate Republican positions. We believe he is the right man for this moment. "
Well now, neighbors, in addition to doing the right thing in November, you are going have to get your friends and neighbors (and even recalcitrant spouses) into REPUBLICANS FOR KERRY right now. It will be a close election, with 4 or 5, 000 votes deciding each of several key states, so we need grass roots organizing right now!
To join REPUBLICANS FOR KERRY, check out http://groups.yahoo.com/group/republicansforkerry04
The environment will thank you.
THE SAFETY MESSAGE
Ah! You have finally found what you were so desperately looking for: The Safety Message! After unwillingly plodding through all the anti-administration dross, you have finally uncovered the reason you sent your government computer on its mission to seek out THUNDERBEAR; the bi-monthly safety message!
For this issue's safety message, we must go back to the early days of the National Park Service, back into the 1920's back to the time of the first Director of the National Park Service, Steven Tyng Mather.
Mather had been a successful businessman (Borax mining) and a Progressive (Bullmoose) Republican cut from the Theodore Roosevelt cloth. Having made all the money he felt he would need (A rare bit of self-control in anyone, Democrat or particularly, Republican), Mather cast about for a useful outlet for his talents. He found it in the nascent, but drifting National Park System, which could use some direction.
Although Mather was a Republican, President Wilson was bipartisan enough to recognize a kindred spirit, and appointed Mather as First Director of the new National Park Service. The rest is history. Steven Mather became quite literally an iconic bureaucrat, enshrined in bronze in every national park, a symbol of successful leadership.
It was not that he knew much about parks; he actually knew very little about the complex relationship of plants and animals. What Mather knew a great deal about was managing people in a formal and informal way. He was great fun to be around and a natural storyteller. Much of the National Park business was not conducted in the Department of Interior offices but in the various Gentleman's clubs such as the Cosmos Club of Washington, where Mather would gently cajole congressmen, lobbyists, and businessmen on park matters.
One such evening, with overstuffed leather chairs grouped about the fireplace, Mather was telling some favorite stories and subtly probing his influential friends about a proposed new park. He raised a finger in emphasis, but suddenly stopped speaking in mid sentence.
His listeners believed Mather was being discreet: that he had stopped to consider his words carefully, as it was a sensitive matter.
But Steven Mather was not being discreet. He was having the stroke that would end his career and later, his life. Like most stroke victims, Mather did not die immediately, but lingered on for a year, disabled, passing away in 1930.
Fortunately, since that tragic evening 75 years ago, there has been great progress in the treatment of strokes, but speed of treatment is of the essence
According to the American Stroke Association "A stroke, also known as a Cerebral Vascular Accident (CVA) is a life threatening event in which part of the brain does not get enough oxygen. It may be caused by either by a blood clot in a cerebral artery (Cerebral Ischenia) or by bleeding into or around the brain (Cerebral hemorrhage)
The symptoms are any or all of the following:
- Sudden numbness or weakness of the face, arm or leg, especially on one side of the body
- Sudden confusion
- Sudden trouble in speaking or understanding
- Sudden trouble walking, dizziness, loss of balance or coordination
- Sudden severe headache with no known causes.
If you see someone experiencing Mather-like symptoms (i. e. stopping in mid sentence) collapsing or stumbling for no apparent reason, there are three simple tests that cover most of the motor areas of the brain:
- Ask the person to smile
- Ask the person to raise both arms
- Ask the person a simple question (Editors note: It should be a simple objective question if you ask a subjective question such as "Give me one valid reason why George Bush should be reelected, " you may get silence and thus a false positive.)
Should the subject fail any or all of these tests, (Or if you have any doubts what so ever) call 911 and state that you suspect a stroke and, (this is important) state the approximate time of the first symptoms. According to the National Stroke Association, the Good Guys have a three hour "golden time" in which to get a clot-busting drug into the victim.
If that can be done in time, the prognosis is good that much of the damage done by a stroke can be mitigated and the results will not be as debilitating as they were in Stephen Mather's time.
MEXICO CONTINUED
(We continue the gentle adventures of your kindly editor and spouse, Dr. Joan Rubin, in sunny Mexico. You will recall from issue #256 that PJ and Joan have arrived in Mexico City and are taking the bus to Puebla where Joan will be a visiting professor at a local university. Mexico City's famous pollution is nowhere to be seen, the sky is a magical blue and most of Mexico's snow capped volcanoes are in view, a rare and wondrous sight)
The Aztecs Nahuatl language could be as flowery, opaque and subtle as any European language--or it could be disarmingly direct. When it came to naming three of the four great volcanoes, the Aztecs decided to call a spade a spade. "Popocatepetl " translates rather tamely translates as "The smoking mountain" (Which it does ). The tongue pretzel "Iztaccthuatl" translates as "The sleeping woman" (Which it greatly resembles. feet, knees, bust, and head). Mexico' s highest peak, Orizaba, translates as""Star Mountain" as the snowfields and glaciers on its slopes resemble a star.
However, the smallest of the four great volcanoes, La Malinche, is something else again. Malinche is an actual historical personage; Malinche or Dona Marina, as the Spanish called her, was the guide, interpreter, and lover of the Conquistador, Hernan de Cortes. sort of Sacajawea on steroids. Unlike Sacajawea, who remains a charming footnote in American history, Malinche is still a big factor in Mexican history and the way Mexicans view the world, particularly the United States. Many Mexicans, particularly Mexican left wing intellectuals regard Malinche, an Aztec noblewoman, , as the greatest traitor in Mexican history for "betraying "the Aztec Empire to the Spanish. Indeed, a noun "Malinchisimo" is used to describe the habit of rejecting Mexican ways and admiring " foreign" (that is, Yankee) ways. It is not a compliment.
So then, why are this rather substantial volcano and its surrounding national park, named after Mexico's worst traitor? It is not like there was a shortage of geographical place names. Prior to the coming of the Spaniards, the Aztecs called the volcano "Matlalcueyatl" which translates roughly as "The Mountain with the green skirts", a pretty good description of the pine forest that covers its lower slopes.
Our bus was now entering Puebla, an interesting Spanish colonial city. Puebla is home to the world's largest Volkswagen plant, Talavera pottery (much prettier than Volkswagens) and of course, Cinco De Mayo, the commemoration of the Battle of Pueblo in which the Mexicans beat the French (but lost the war) Oddly enough, while Cinco De Mayo is an understandably big deal in Puebla and almost as big a deal in the USA, Cinco De Mayo sort of sucks the hind tit as holidays go in the rest of Mexico, coming in way behind Independence Day ( Sept 16). This is because the rest of the Mexicans regard the Poblanos as rather conservative snobs. However, dislike of Poblanos is as nothing compared to the rest of Mexico's dislike for residents of Mexico City, who are referred to as "Chilangros, " Compared with "Chilangro", the term "Gringo" is one of fond, avuncular endearment. The Chilangro evokes about the same image in the rest of Mexico as does the term "New Yorker" to the rest of the United States, only more so: Hard driving, self centered, aggressive; all the noble mega city. traits.
At around two million, Pueblo is a human sized big city, a sort of Boston to Mexico City's New Yorkery. It is also a very low slung city, with most downtown buildings around three or four stories. This gives Pueblo the illusion of being an enormous small town with its rifle straight avenues stretching away to the surrounding hills. The building fronts in the city center are often veneered with Pueblo's trademark talavera tiles. The differing colors and patterns of the tiles lend individuality to each building, breaking up the suffocating sameness of an urban area.
The bus pulled into one of the smaller depots in Puebla and we picked up a cab for the suburb of Cholula, home of the University of the Americas and our home for the next three months. The cab fare for the 20 minute ride was 50 persos or about $5. 00. Mexico is not expensive, but it is not India-cheap either. You will not be lighting your cigars with Mexican currency if you retire in Mexico.
Cholula is the oldest continuously inhabited city in North America
How old is Cholula?
Many towns in the Eastern U. S. breathlessly proclaim that Burgville was established 1704 or even 1664. Cholula has one of those kinds of signs.
Cholula was founded in 629 AD. Unlike Burgville, this was not when some louse ridden fur trapper built a one room log cabin on the site. 629 AD refers to when Cholula was formally incorporated, listed in records, government buildings were erected and so on. There had been previous settlements on the site, but 629 AD was when things officially got under way. When the Spanish arrived in 1529, Cholula had a population of 100, 000.
Cholula (which means "Place of those who fled") boasts the world 's largest pyramid (Yup, bigger in volume than the Cheops pyramid in Egypt, though not as high) AND what is probably the most photographed church in Mexico, The Santuario de Nuestro de Los Remedios.
The cream white and butter yellow church sits gloriously on top of the pyramid with one of the world's most majestic backdrops. Depending on your camera angle, you can center church and pyramid against smoking Popocatepetl or craggy, snow clad Iztaccihuatl. It is one of the most spectacular combinations of human and natural geography in North America, and photographers treat it as such.
In thanksgiving for his eventual victory, Cortez vowed to build a church for every day of the year. Either less devout heads intervened, or more likely, a flattened purse, and the Spaniards declared it close enough for ecclesiastical work at around 32 churches (though I admit I haven't counted). Aside from the churches, the pyramid, and the spacious zocalo (town square), Cholula is a pretty ordinary looking Mexican town of middling size, (around 35, 000. ) The streets are busier than I remembered and they have installed a number of traffic lights to keep up with that modern plague.
Should you retire in Cholula? Well, that depends. Can you, for example, get a decent meal in Cholula without getting poisoned ?
Odd that you should ask, neighbors. That was exactly the question posed by Hernan Cortez when he first visited Cholula 485 years ago. It had been a long march up from Vera Cruz and he and his men were hungry. Now that should have been no trouble as Cholula was a rich ceremonial and administrative center with a population of 100, 000 with markets full of exotic foods that Cortez and his company were rapidly getting used to: chocolate, maize, amaranth, avocados, nopals, a cornucopia of other New World crops. Cortez would not even have to shop in the market: the Cholulan equivalent of the Rotary and Chamber of Commerce were putting on a big feast for the Spanish.
The only problem was the Tlaxcalans. They were the Indian allies of Cortez who hated the Cholulans and all other Aztecs. They believed that they could use the whitemen to get rid of their hated Indian enemies and then dispose of the white men at a later date. It was a fatal strategy that doomed virtually every North American Indian group over the next 350 years.
The Tlaxcalans told Cortez that the Cholulans planned to poison them at the banquet and when they were violently ill, their hosts would fall upon them with hidden club s and finish he job. Cortez asked his girl friend and translator, Malinche, if this was the case. Malinche, who had no particular love for her Aztec relatives who had sold her into slavery told Cortez, that now that you mention it, there WAS something sinister going on behind the scenes. Cortez ordered a little gingerly food tasting. The wily Tlaxcalans understood the power of suggestion. Spanish food was (and is) some of the dullest on earth. Cholulan food is some of the spiciest. Hmm! sure could be poison, couldn't it?
That was about all the Spanish needed. The Santiago battle cry was raised (St. James and at them!) Toledo steel came out of scabbards, crossbows thunked, matchlocks boomed, and the Tlaxcalans charged.
The surprised Cholula Rotarians were mowed down. Perhaps a thousand or more Cholulans died.
The Cholula Massacre was the first major slaughter of unresisting Native Americans on main land North America. It would not be the last on the continent until Colonel James Forsyth ordered his Hotchkiss machine guns to cease fire on that frosty afternoon in South Dakota 381 years later.
Bernal Diaz, the Chronicler of the Cortez expedition does not comment on whether Cortez ever found a safe place to eat in Cholula.
Fortunately, today there is no lack of restaurants in Cholula, most understandaby serving the Mexican food that Cortez found so strange. As to your question of whether you can eat in Cholula or any other town in Mexico without being poisoned, the answer is that with a bit of common sense--and a bit of luck, you should have no problem eating in Mexico.
It's still a good idea to forego salads or other raw unpeeled vegetables in Mexico unless you personally prepare them. As salads are a big deal with many Gringos, you can get around this two ways: You can buy triple washed salad mixes sealed in plastic bags just like in the US which are available in most big Mexican supermarkets, or you can do as I do. Buy the vegetables in the local market and soak them in an iodine bath (8drops to a liter) for a minimum of ten minutes and rinse them with bottled water. It goes without saying that one drinks bottled water or beer in Mexico, never the tap water.
Restaurant selection is simply a matter of using the common sense that has allowed you to reach retirement age. If the restaurant looks clean, it probably is. Lots of customers is a good sign as it means both satisfied, non-sick customers and a rapid turn over in perishable foods such as chicken or seafood. You should, of course, wash your hands before eating. In addition to your own hygiene, this gives you a chance to check the wash up facilities. If there isn't soap and paper towels for you, then there aren't any for the folks that prepare your food. If this is the case, walk on out and find another place to eat.
Do not buy food from a sidewalk vendor. They are picturesque and cheap, but you will probably get sick. If you are Mexican, don't buy from a sidewalk vendor. Joan's Mexican students were forever getting sick from this kind of food. You do not become immune to Salmonella because of nationality or exposure. Amusingly (or not so amusingly, according to Joan) one can be fooled when the context changes. Once, when we were hiking at 12, 000 feet on the slopes of Iztaccihuatl volcano, we came upon an Indian woman with a charcoal brazier making and selling blue corn quesadillas by the side of the trail. The setting was indescribably romantic and Joan voted them the most memorable she ever had. She also voted the resulting case of Montezuma's Revenge to be the most memorable she had ever had.
Strangely enough, although Mexican markets bulge with all manner of familiar and exotic vegetables and fruits, they rarely are part of the restaurant menu. To get your vegetables you are often must do a side order of soup or boiled vegetables.
Mexican beer is world-renowned. Mexican wine far less so, but it is getting better. As the Mexican middle class grows, so does the wine industry. Although I have Mexican friends who drink Tequila straight, I find it best diluted in the form of Margaritas. Pulque is the historic national drink of Mexico. The pyramid museum at Cholula has a famous 1, 000 year old mural, "The Pulque Drinkers" depicting the lads doing some serious consuming.
Pulque is a home-brew made from the heart of the Maguey. It is a fizzy, milky substance that is usually sold in recycled one liter plastic pop bottles. It does not keep well and must be either refrigerated or consumed immediately (which is generally the case. ) Pulque is the drink of the least upwardly mobile males (and intellectuals who want to be as one with the proletariat. ) I do not recommend drinking it unless you are familiar with the producer as it is often made under unhygienic conditions ( The belief that dog dung is used to speed fermentation is probably an urban legend spread by the beer companies. ) The stuff has a unique sweet, slimy taste.
While most Americans enjoy Mexican food unless they have a chili or cheese allergy, there is one problem with Mexican food in Mexico: That's all there is.
Unlike the U. S. A. , where you can stop off at an Italian place if you get tired of Thai food or send out for some Hunan Chinese, Mexican food is what you get in Mexico. (Seems oddly reasonable when you think about it!)
This bothers some expatriates. Joan has a somewhat cynical belief that the various Mexican dishes differ more in how the tortilla is folded or molded rather than any real difference in taste. I have threatened to open a Thai restaurant in Puebla. It would be the first one in a city of two million. My conservative Mexican friends are not rushing to invest.
So, if you like Mexican food, or if you are a pretty good cook in any language, then living in Mexico, you should enjoy a second career and life in Mexico.
In issue # 258, we will discuss how much it will cost you to live a middle class life in Mexico, comparable to the one you left behind, the cost and quality of health care (You've noticed you're not 21? ) and the best places to live and what you might like to do.