Small and Large Points - Please Forgive the Pontification

__________________________

     We have delayed much of what will follow, simply because we have had quite a bit of urgent and moderately demanding medical matters combined with weather events and necessities of our little mud hut in the middle of NoWhere, Mexico.   We try our best to resist the urge to pontificate and howl at the moon about things such as Natural Law,  Truth, and Normalcy.   BUT, these things used to be a staple of the American fabric and now are becoming rarer and rarer commodities in the panoply of our peculiar Brave New Culture
.

     To-day, perversity and avarice are thought to be normalcy, and normalcy is thought to be perverse.   There is now a majority in my opinion who have no catechism, but who think that people who do not believe homosexuals can marry and "have children" are evil and bad and backwards, and "racists",  and immoral.   I and various of mine over the years, have never raised a hand against a homosexual of either or any sexual orientation.

     But we are considered to be the "perverts and deviates".    So…gradually all of this leads onto the matter of immigration.  The media people…at all levels…refer to the people arriving from Central America a "migrants".   In no wise can these people qualify as migrants.
   Stop and think for a moment.  Back when Americans could still speak some for of English commonly understood by 95 per cent of the populace, migration was something done by birds…flying from Canada to Mexico as well as Central and South America for the Winter, and back to their matrimonial strutting and chirping in Canada and elsewhere in the northern areas of North America for the late Spring and Summer.

     Perhaps the "Snowbirds" and other Yankees who come down for the Winter months and go back to Gomer Heights, Iowa and  Saint Anthony, Minnesota can be considered "migrants" because they go and come.for instance, to the invasion of Texas by globs of stumbling, stupid, dull, demanding, arrogant, presumptuous glubs…globs of glubs…who have rushed the Frontier of Texas.

     That is a concentrated and condensed form of the nature of migrancy.  Go and come, come and go, in a repetitive and substantially predictable way.    The Italians, and Irish, and millions other who arrived here with a letter promissory, a letter of recommendation from a parish priest and/or a grandmother, and a piece of paper from an American consulate somewhere in the World were not "migrants"…they were emigres as they left and immigrants when they arrived at New York Harbour on the Hudson.   An emigre' is a person who is leaving his homeland or his / her place in his culture.   An immigrant is a person who is intending to stay at that place where he / she has arrived.

Now, allow us to seal the deal.

    "THERE ARE NO ILLEGAL PEOPLE!!!! THERE ARE NO ILLEGAL PEOPLE!!!"

The chant of the nouveaux Roman Catholic - pseudo Jesuit strike force.  The Jesuit New Wave people and those who "know" that there is a "new catechism" for those who have suffered judgementalism and hatred and essentially being treated in a meanie-poo way…they know that there is a new Catechism.
     
      "Do unto yourself so that all others can be blamed", or

     "Bring blame upon the Gentiles because they have, and we do not, or

     "All who have, must give that portion and starve, so that we can continue as we wish!   Those who cleave one man to one woman are fools, or
   
   "We demand our free space and that we be  adored.  We demand to have free food, free housing, free schools, free medical services, although we lack any interest in legal procreation or parental responsibility! We demand it and we demand it now!!!"

____________________________

     But yes, Virginia, there are illegal people.  As is a home, so is a nation.   We are allowed to determine who will enter our homes and we are allowed to determine who must be dismissed. When this admonition is applied to a national scale and disregarded as a form of self-protection, then the culture and the its various societies are in very severe jeopardy, if not ruin. 

    EL GRINGO VIEJO has certain very high markers about his attitudes concerning normalcy.  Almost above all else is citizenship.   Subservience to the orders of the Almighty must take precedence over all else.  But to be true to the land in which one lives…any honest Jew or Christian…it is a "no brainer".  Especially it is a  "no brainer" when one considers that our "Laws of Caesar" were false and the law of Moses given by Yahweh turned out to be much more powerful.

     For instance,  the Romans granted all order of increased privileges to the invading class during the third century A.D.   Many of the slaves began to strut about as though they were people with special privilege.   The Roman hierarchy did everything possible to buy off their indolence and violent, un-controlled and indisciplined scuz-bucket hangers-on.
 Many of the foreign personalities, slave and free, acted as though they were Roman citizens.   They were entertained with lions eating Christians in the Colosseum, and gladiators beating each others' brains out along with spewing the guts of men who had, up until yesterday, were friends, one of the other.

     We comment upon this matter as one who was born and has lived on the Frontier of the Mexican and Texian border for lo, these many years (72).  To-day, among the CentroAmericanos,    we see slobs, dullards, Mara Salvatrucha - 13 and similar males,  ages 10 - 35 who have only one  intention upon arriving in Gringolandia.   Steal, brutalise, rape, take, destroy, use all nature and manner of alcohol and drugs, and sexually assault, disfigure, and destroy…destroy…destroy…and then laugh like hyenas and begin the next opportunity to rape, disfigure, destroy, so that the people will fear them and quiver while huddled in a dark corner of their hovel.   This is not a hollow joke.

     These Central Americans were not like the Mexicans with whom we dealt in the days of yore.   The native and recently arrived during the disorders of the Mexican Revolution and the Cristeros Wars (1910 -  1926) still had the people with considerable basic Christian understanding about how to deal with the realities of life.  Those and the Spanish Colonials from the 1750s, who chose not to leave when the Gringos went by during the Mexican - American War, provided a very clear understanding of what loyalty and reasonable resistance meant,  as well as compliance.

     My mother and father…and my maternal grandparents…always pointed out that the Latins who were "de planta" (who were already there on the Texas Frontier with Mexico),  provided the true and perfect example of a  cultural matrix for Catholic, Protestant, and Jew alike.
      The people who are coming up from Honduras, El Salvador, and to a lesser extent Guatemala during these times, are in their 75 per cent, frauds.   Please do not doubt this.  If you doubt it, you are jeopardising your children and yourself.
    
      They are not migrants!…as are the birds who fly to the north in the summer and to the south in winter.   Those are the migrants.
     These people trundling up to be arrested by the Border Patrol, THEY ARE INVADERS, looking to barge in and steal, take, and consume whatever largesse the various local and State governments wish to give and then melt into the darkness of various locales where they will join that mass of the unknown, like Obama's Uncle Onyango and Auntie Zietuni in Massachusetts, living off of the largesse of the productive classes (only 40,000,000,000 dollars and growing).  Such a formula can only last so long…then, finally, everything will collapse as it did during the Roman Epoch.

Lev Davidovich
 Bronshtein
(aka - Leon Trotsky)
1879 - 1940
________________

    They are slugs who want the Gringos to pay back what they have stolen, according to the Jesuits of the Order of the Liberation Theology.   The Jesuits who began to change their orientation to the celestial and Heavenly shortly after the foundation of the order by Saint Ignatius of Loyola.   He would not recognise his intellectual progeny to-day, however…as soldiers in the Army of the Pope.   That Army steadily moved from "defending the Indians and the Poor" and the fusing of Christianity to Buddhism until finally  it arrived to the Ultimate Goal…that being "Liberation Theology"…the cure to all ills.   Liberation Theology, for those who are not clear about it, is Latin for "Mandatory Socialism"(sideways humour).
    
     That very radical theology, (which became vogue during these recent times at the international boundary between the United States and the world) teaches it was not Jesus of Nazareth who brought salvation to the faithful, but Karl Marx and the other Great Thinkers like Frederich Engles.   The Jesuits have the waft of fragrances left by the presence of  Lev Davidovich Bronshtein (AKA:  Leonid Trotsky).   He was a nice Jewish boy from the Ukraine who ran afoul of the Romanoff Dynasty (Russian Royals for 400 years) as a young man.
      He became a resister and suffered banishment to a prison camp in the Siberian outback.   He escaped (all Jews are shrewd, sharp, and smarter than other white people, right?) and joined the socialist movement.   The Romanoffs were felled and assassinated in the most cowardly way…women and children guilty of having been born to title, slaughtered…and then the "liberators" established the communist guiding hand over Mother Russia and various of the political dependencies who still quake when they see a Russian license plate driving through their town.

Add captionDiego and Frida at one of their calmer moments.
__________________________________

     Trotsky rose rapidly in the Russian labyrinth of corruption, wheeling, dealing, avarice, and slaughter.   As Secretary of War, Trotsky presided over forgetting to set free White Army veterans who had been detained during their loss to the Red Army.  Somehow or another almost all of themwere executed (slaughtered) without cause.

     Trotsky also made the mistake of confronting Joseph Stalin (The Man of Steel) in a political issue, and then decided to go to Mexico where there was a thriving socialist movement underway, and Stalin's shadow could have little effect.  Or not/Frida's last moments above ground, which was the Palace of Fine Arts.   The Mexican central government denied that she was a communist…declaring that she was a friend of Leon Trotsky, and nothing more.

___________________

    Suffice it to say that Frida Kahlo de Rivera was a mediocre, at best, artist.   She did only 160  works or so, and eight per cent of those were "self-portraits". 

     It was said that the only time she was happy was when she had visitors from New York City, where  she lived briefly with Diego, and could take her "Anglo-American sisters in crime" to the Garibaldi Plaza…a low-level, decent red-light district in the middle of downtown-most Mexico City. (Frida was born an Hungaro - Austrian - Mexican Indian eastern European type,  to a Germano-Hungarian father and a three-quarters white and one quarter Tlaxcalan or Zapotec mother) arrive in Mexico at the age of 6.  She was, perhaps, like many Southerners in Dixie, a person with Indian blood. 
     There, in the loose rules of Garibaldi,  they would convivial until all hours…sometimes returning to the reality of reality at dawn.  They would cackle and scratch, drinking the best of the house reserves of aged (100 years) which would cost 3 pesos at that time (one dollar and fifty cents American in those times) tequila and Cuban rum  (some from Izucar de Matamoros, Puebla, Mexico, and the rest from Cuba) and continuous hors d'oeuvres prepared by Parisienne-level chefs.
     It was a party, see-to-be-seen place in those days, and Frida loved being a member of the "seen" part.  Her New York girl-friends were troubled by her commie orientation, but she dismissed that, with a "Eat, Drink, and Be Merry" flippancy that "…nobody really believes in any  of that "stuff."
   She had been exposed to the New York social scene back when Diego had been called to Rockefeller Centre to do some murals.   Most, because of their commie orientation were later erased, by the Rockefellers, but some were reproduced in the Palace of Government in Mexico City.   There the facts….and the not-so-facts….as the extreme leftists wished to display their sentiments are available to admire by foreigners who very frequently do not understand the undertones.
       We would be more than glad to explain each of the depictions but that would take the entirety of a day…which I frequently did…with my tourism clients.   Incredibly, in Mexico City…one day - one site…yes, it is more than possible…even necessary. (Actually, the full explanation of all the panels could easily take two semesters of advanced geopolitical and socio-cultural explanations).

_______________________

ADVISORY:

     Do not go to Mexico City unless you do the 10 basic stops.   Do not go unless you have at least ten days to squander.

   The Basilica of the Virgin of Guadalupe, the Metropolitan Cathedral, the Pyramids of Teotihuecan, the silly Xochimilco "Floating Gardens"…silly but very, very necessary…side trip to Taxco / Cuernavaca…the National Folklore Ballet at the Palace of Fine Arts…the Palace of Chapultepec and a million other things.

   The people of all classes and racial mixtures are quick, arrogant, busy, and very, very generous and civilised.  Speak English slowly and it is amazing how they understand you perfectly…Speak Spanish poorly and they will laud and magnify your name, correct you, and continue with the conversation.  All of this with a straight, dry face.


      While the stuff in blue above was meant to set all at ease, it was true that extreme elements circled all about Mexico at that time.   But no matter what, in the life and times of La Señora Frida she never paid part nor parcel of the evening and early morning bills when her "American Sisters" came down….not bar bills...nor the taxis….nothing…!! 

__________________

Perhaps we can remember the words of El Gringo Viejo from a long, long time ago.  To wit:

    Would it be at all possible, now that there seems to be a few cracks in the wall, to have the Border Patrol, or BFI, or somebody go and pick up Auntie Zietuni and Uncle Omar Onyango to be removed to the detention and await their deportation.....tomorrow?

    Their possessions should be removed because they have lived, supported to a level they could never have comprehended in their homeland, by invading the systems of public welfare and assistance that is provided to slugs, dregs, and bums who want somebody to buy their lottery tickets, food, medical,  shelter, electricity, and manicures and hair extenders for them.

     Auntie Zietuni and Uncle Omar are illegal aliens and orders of deportation have been issued twice for each of them.  Highly paid attorneys from powerful and well connected firms have managed to obtain delays and/or appeals....while these two....who are actually furious that welfare and other public support has been insufficient for their liking....continue to rack up payments that are well on their way to 2,000,000 USD since their combined arrival in this horrid country that does not give enough to the immigrants who are the onliest ones who make this country great (supposedly).

    Please do your own research on this.   Zietuni Obama and Omar Onyango Obama.  Google them up....it is much worse than your humble servant states it here.

___________

    We should point out that Auntie Zietuni died some time back, after running up a medical services bill for the people of Massachusetts (and the United States) of over 2,000,000 (am.cur.) just for herself.   Her "free" public housing…a two bedroom, two bath arrangement many people in the upper middle class cannot afford…was her landing pad.   She complained about that, and white people, and  everything else.  She blamed slavery and white people at every turn, like a clone of Maxine Waters.
    Money was collected from somewhere to fly her carcass back to Kenya, but for some reason,  there were no crowds throwing roses and flowers as her ambulance passed by the empty streets.  It was probably the same legal firm that helped Uncle Onyango beat his DWI charges and his lack of legal status as an immigrant.
     We are being played by a cabal of marxist groups and their number one ally, the Obsolete Press of the United States…in league with the leftist news outlets throughout the Western World…composed of normal looking people who hate normal people and society and culture.   These are the types who can stop everything at a Broadway theatre and give lecture to the Vice-President of the United States (elect) about what a horrid person he is along with his boss the President - elect.

     The hubris is astounding…stunning…and were it directed to the feet of (Sir Edmund)Hillary Rodham or Billy Jeff Blythe, or Heaven forbid, an icon so lofty as Sheila Jackson Lee… or Father O'bamaham, there would be riots and cracked store windows from sea to shining sea.

     Folks…this entire border menace is a sham.  "Unescorted minor children (redundancy?). Mommies lugging three or four differently shaped and coloured children? Teenagers with tattoos of various organised criminal organisations (MS13 and  Callejon 18 principally) slink and shuffle with the "gang-style" walk and then show up as nice kids just looking for opportunity.   IT IS ALL A SHAM.

     It is absolutely, totally, and utterly required that all and any of these people be immediately deported once found…after this ridiculous dispersal from McAllen et.al. …and it is further ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY that it be made known that none of the babies plopped out on American or Texian soil be recognised as citizens of the United States of America or Texas.   ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY.

     Further it is absolutely necessary that the crossing of the frontier by these illegal aliens (not migrants) has cancelled their legal return ad infinitum .  AND, that any person who can be linked by blood or in-law relation to the third degree to a person who attempted to enter the United States or Texas as an illegal alien,  is prohibited from gaining consideration as a tourist, legal alien, investor in American business, or as a candidate for American / Texian citizenship.

     If 96% of the Mexicans and Canadians who work, visit, vacation, and shop in Gringoland can comply with these cumbersome rules and regulations,  we can reasonably DEMAND the same from the Centroamericanos.

_______________________________

One of scores of incredibly well-executed depictions that 
pertain to the Spanish Conquest of Meso-America.   All a
 gift, indirectly,  of the Rockefeller Family and the hand of
 Diego Rivera…who was a wart on the face of Mexico,  a
 dedicated commie, until he confessed at the end that he was
a Christian (without prodding from ecclesiasticals) and
 that his first love was Mexico. 
Allow me to say that these works were/are remarkable, but
his early works were inspired by a Higher Power, in my
opinion.  He was a true artistic genius. Renoir and Picasso
could not do as well.
__________________________________ 

THIS IS THE DEAL:

     We would like to be recognised as among those persons who can differentiate from a door-knob and a B-52 bomber.

    Both your humble servant and his homologue…El Consuegro…have spent innumerable hours in Mexico without regret.  There have been some "asuntos contrarios" but 99.999% of our hours have been without incident or concern.   We even have patriotic feeling towards Mexico, due to the good to excellent treatment (and food and beer) that we have had to suffer over lo..these many years.
     His wife (a sainted and incredibly talented person) travelled briefly with us in Mexico not long ago and never had anything but positive comments.
     
    My wife is a 450 - year Valencian - Malaga Spanish colonial descendant from and of what would become northcentralmost Mexico.  Her people were in Texas and stayed in Texas during all of the 'inconveniences" of 1846 - 1848.   They are still here…serving as Department of Public Safety officers (Texas State Police), war veterans of WWII, Korea, Viet Nam, and points beyond as well as professionals and highly capacitated persons..   All the males were honourably discharged and garnered chestfuls of medals, (And yes, the women did do all the real work). 
    We are not "Meskin haters" in any sense.   And those who suggest that any of the above has anything to do with anti - this race or anti - that ethnicity is full of buffalo grass.  It is a matter of the Law…and a matter of qualification and eligibility.  Please do not run and hide behind some convenient but false explanation for the above.   Think about your own home…when you wake up and find six people in the kitchen waiting to be fed…because they came…..

     What would you think at that hour of the morning?

EL GRINGO VIEJO

_________________________________________

Tales of the Family…The Paternal Grandfather of Milton, Norman, and David

_________________________

     The Newton line entered into Boston Harbour in 1643 or 1644.  There were two or three brothers.   They were people with some…not massive amounts…but some significant resources.   One was a Congregationalist Preacher, and the other two were businessmen who were lured by the openings of property, businesses, banking, and such.  They were involved in the foundation of the city of Newton, Massachusetts.
     Some of the Newtons became commercialists and investors…land speculators…and the like.  One was a minister of the cloth, although we have record that he was a Congregationalist and an Anglican officiant.   The Old North Church, the one with the lanterns indicating "…one if by land and two if by sea…" had a Newton-surnamed ancestor as an officiant.
     All of the OROGs and other readers of this terribly interesting blog must be impressed that a city was named for the Newtons…especially since it was only seven or eight miles from Boston, where there was already a great burg being elaborated.   BUT! Please be aware that the name of the community now known as Newton was originally Cambridge…and the Newton name was entered in 1766 as the official monicker of the community, 122 years after the arrival of the my Newtons.

     Various elements of those Newtons who came into Massachusetts stayed and helped make  great a Colony to the favour of his Majesty back in London.  Others struck forth to Maine, Vermont, and New Hampshire…as those places were surveyed and dispersed into the very English common law system of titled property…decent treatment by the Crown…in spite of the disorders at and around the time of King Charles 1.    Would that everything had been perfect at that time and later.  Would not that have been…loverly?

________________________________

     The War Between the States was the costliest war effort fought by the United States of America, both in terms of lucre and in terms of the number of dead and wounded.   The separation between the two nations…the North and the South…along with the peculiar out-men…Texas, and the Cherokee and Chickasaw allies of the Confederacy…has never really been resolved.

     To-day perhaps it is easier to just not be bothered by it.  Most American students cannot tell a questioner whether the First World War followed or preceded the Second World War…nor do they know which World was involved.   They are certain that the enemies in those wars were Australia and Bogata…or somebody.  It is hard for them to remember all the names of Father Obamaham's fifty-seven (57) States in the American Union.

     My grandfather Norman N. Newton (we never learned what the initial 'N' stood for, but it showed up in the 1860 census when he was an infant), was born in 1860.  Even this date is disputed but we feel it is certain because of the family tale that was told that Norman could remember his two much older half-brothers as Christmas Dinner in 1862.   This leads immediately to the possibility that he was told about it and developed a memory of it, but…he was a powerfully intelligent person.  It would be reasonable to assume that his precocity allowed him to be more than able to delve into the recesses of his mind during later years and fully recall this Christmas event.
     Please remember another thing.  For twenty years after that horrid War, there were always men in view who were missing members (legs, arms, etc.).  Always.
     They began to thin out after the turn of the Century until finally the last Veteran died…a Confederate soldier from Texas…in 1953, if I recall correctly.   He made the cover of the LIFE Magazine.

     In the case of Norman N. Newton, however, he did not have relatives who were wounded or whole veterans to entertain him about their bravery and exploits against the dreaded Stonewall Jackson or the valiant and brilliant Bobbie Lee.  No…because his two oldest brother were killed in action…one on 3 May 1863 at New Salem Church, Virginia when Longstreet lurched out with three divisions of infantry and considerable cavalry and artillery…destination - Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.
      The other was killed without knowledge of what had occurred to his brother before him…on or about the 15th of August 1863.  He was part of a mounted infantry unit sent to harass Lee's rear guard during his retreat into Virginia following the events at Gettysburg.  My Great-uncle and many Yankee valiants learned that Lee's Army of Northern Virginia was wounded, but fully capable of wreaking massive casualties upon the Blue-clad invaders…which they did.

    This caused…over the months…the steady demise of my great-grandfather "Banty" Newton.  He died in 1867 of atrophy of will to live.   He hated Lincoln and always felt that the South and North would have lived apart more amicably had they separated.  Each side would have needed the other more and each side had its strengths.  But Lincoln was determined to have his war…and Hubbard "Banty" Newton was doomed to lose his sons.   His losses, both psychologically and then metabolically, mounted up after a couple of emotional shocks.
  We plough back to the year 1862…which brings up something about the intelligence and precocity of Norman N. Newton.  Grandpa Norman declared to his son (my father) that he remembered clearly the Christmas dinner that included his older brothers, all dressed out in their fancy Union Blues…there was a large and bountiful table. This would have been at the age of two months less than three.  The two older brothers, both members of the Pennsylvania 96th Volunteer Infantry, entering the service at the beginning of the War Between the States…assured everyone that the War would be over before Summer and Lee would be in irons.
     It should be pointed out that the two boys were actually not brothers.  They were actually first cousins.  My grandfather probably never did learn that the younger of the two brothers who were born in the latter period of the decade of the 1830s lost his parents in a carriage accident of some sort.   "Banty" took him in as a father.  We have searched for the particulars concerning my great-grand uncle and his wife…("Banty's" brother, but to no avail at this point).  But, no one in the Newton family ever spoke of Charles's brother as being a true cousin…he was always a brother.

The oldest water-powered mill in the northeastern part
of Pennsylvania.  This almost certainly had Newton
 hands upon the labour and design.
___________________________

     After two hundred years of milling around in the cold country, draining trees for their sap to make syrup, the bloodline moved into the still hostile and dangerous "French and Indian" country.   The Newton label had been associated with the building of water-wheel powered grist mills and covered bridges.   These people were known as "wood mechanics" and were in perpetual demand for anything that moved that required precision metal and wood work.  These activities are associated with the years of 1730 through 1900.

    Hubbard (Banty) Newton was the last professional "wood mechanics" of a line that had practice the skill, trade, and business from their time around Nottingham and in the county of East Anglia as Englishmen.  They continued the trade upon arrival in the New World in 1643.   We always declared that they did not come over on the Mayflower because it had been overbooked.
  

This is a fairly typical covered bridge in that area of
the Northeastern part of America.  This particular
one is in Pennsylvania near my Grandfather's place
of birth.  Of some interest might be that psychic
 researchers and ghosts hunters swear that almost
 all covered bridges seem to be haunted.
  You can be the judge when you travel
 to those precincts next time.

__________________________________

  We have one cousin…brother of my grandfather Newton, who was adopted out to a wealthy family in New York…along the Hudson.   The man was a surgeon who moved his family from Orange near the Hudson River,  and his newly minted son (adoptive), to the family estate in Clinton, Connecticut in the 1870s.
     This person, Leonard Sewell Newton, struck out on on his own and at the age of 19 became the chief officer Buffalo Station  of the Erie and Lackawanna Railroad…that ran between New York and Canada.   He had been provided a tutorial class of teachers for about five years, lecturing in everything from Shakespearean Theatre to the analysis of malarial re-transmission.  He would be my great-uncle.  He, like his brother, died in the early 1930s…neither really knew where the other one lived or even if that brother was living or dead.  In that he was adopted legally, his surname was Boyce.  His adoptive family were sainted people.

     My grandfather was likewise blessed.  First, his birthright included, like his older brother  Leonard Sewell,  massive raw intelligence.  My great-Grandfather died in 1867.  That death, at the age of 57 years, was caused by the person my great-Grandfather despised over every other human in the World…Abraham Lincoln.   My great-Grandfather would say frequently that it would be better to let the South go its way…because, "…it might be that being apart would keep us together more than a false and forced Union."

A more or less current picture of Montrose, Pennsylvania.
  It is perfectly idyllic.  Oddly, the town has lost about 40%
 of its population during the past 20 years.
   Seems a shame.

____________________________________

     His losses, both psychologically and then metabolically, mounted up after a couple of emotional shocks.  We plough back to the year 1862…which brings up something about the intelligence and precocity of Norman N. Newton.  Grandpa Norman declared to his son (my father) that he remembered clearly the Christmas dinner that included his older brothers, all dressed out in their fancy Union Blues…there was a large and bountiful table. This would have been at the age of two months less than three.  The two older brothers, both members of the Pennsylvania 96th Volunteer Infantry, entering the service at the beginning of the War Between the States…assured everyone that the War would be over before Summer and Lee would be in irons.

     My father's given (Christian) names…Milton Birchard…came from that family in Montrose that adopted  him and raised him up from the age of six to his time of departure.   It was Norman N. Newton's greatest complement to any man.
      Norman, as an eleven year old child, alone and committed,  left the comfortable confines of the Birchard family to seek out his brothers he understood to be in  Michigan and/or Wisconsin.  They were working in the lumbering and forestry business.    My grandfather named his first and only "Milton Birchard" because that was the man…a person of considerable wealth…who took my grandfather in.   And he was the man who taught him to read…especially material just a bit beyond his normal capacity.

My father with his pet racoon,
a 60 pound male who liked anything shiny
such as silverware and coins, which were,
 in those times, substantially silver. (1920 -
Ed Couch, Texas)

___________________________

       He instructed the boy in the ways of the world and in the need to study and become a valuable personality.   He admired Mr. Milton Birchard…who was a true heavyweight mover and shaker…and social and political personality in northeastern Pennsylvania.
  
     It should be pointed out that Milton Birchard had a bit of French and English old-country in his veins.  Some of his family was involved in the creation of a fellow who would become a President of the United States of America.  Some of the folks who left America during the times of difficulty for the people of the overly-English orientation went to Canada.  Of course, in Canada, especially Quebec, there was and is a sizeable French component.
   Boys and girls meet, and things happen.  So, our best understanding is that Rutherford Hayes was probably birthed in Canada or of Canadian subjects (at that time) of the Crown…that perhaps he was drawn from the blood of the Birchard (pronounced:  Buhr -  SHARD) family, which was highly placed in the Dominion  (Commonwealth of Canada).  When the Hayes family established itself in Ohio, Rutherford became active in the American political scene.

     But, unlike folks who had the name of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, or Ronald Wilson Reagan, it was the notion of the budding politician that he use the proper monicker of Rutherford B. Hayes.  Some thought that it might be a way to dismiss the importance of Rutherford's English and "Frenchy" connection.  However, all must be aware, the President of the United States was once named Rutherford Birchard Hayes.

_________________________

On the road to North Dakota:

     Norman N. Newton  did not find his brothers in Wisconsin nor Michigan.   He worked as a roustabout there for an episode, but by the time he was turning at his majority, he decided to be a "lawman".   My father thought that he worked for Wyatt Earp in Tombstone, but such was not the case.
   The fact was and is that there is intertwining of the Earp Family and the Newton line.   My father had it confused, and that is because in the mores of the time, if an adult said "this", a child dared not to suggest that he should have said "that".
     My father suggested that Norman N. Newton worked for "Federal Marshall Wyatt Earp" in Tombstone. Arizona.   Later in life, my father declared that he wasn't really clear on that episode of my grandfather's life.   My best impression is that Norman N. Newton (first cousins to Newton Earp) despised Wyatt Earp from some trickling of current lore at that time (1880s - 1910) that trickled into family conversations from a distance.
       It turns out that a generation before, Wyatt and his brothers, and a blood relative of the people who lost their lives in the accident that killed them and left their male child abandoned by fate were connected by fate.   The baby in swaddling, Newton Earp, went with one of the Earps and Charles (or Max) Newton went with Hubbard (Banty) Newton to Pennsylvania.
      It turns out that the child that Hubbard (Banty) Newton took in after the carriage accident was  the brother of Charles Newton's blood first cousin who died in the carriage accident.   And that convolution is actually the way it was.   Unfortunately, Hubbard (Banty) Newton  had two wives who were sisters…the first one died after childbirth…after birthing Charles. The second one, sister to the first, also died of blood-loss after childbirth, but not before birthing, Isaac Newton.
   Then a very young girl, a noted preacher's daughter, married Hubbard Newton, to help with his peculiar Patchwork - Quilt of family…and from that time and occasion, she produced two babies.  One was Sewell Leonard Newton and the other Norman N. Newton.   Both boys came to look very much like their father and both prospered with the evangelical Mom and the prosperity of the moment.   The War Between the States dispelled that order and tranquillity.  
  

This is Newton Earp, cousin to the
 Earp brothers.  He also served as a
 lawman with them, but finished life
 as a farmer and contractor in the
 Midwest and in California. He lost
his wife in 1898 and he died in
1928…about the same time as
the death of Wyatt Earp.
Some have said that this image is
 a "dead ringer" of Wyatt Earp
but that Newton Earp was the
 better man.
  That is for the public to judge
because we just report the news.
My father seemed steeped in a
dislike of Wyatt Earp and would
not permit the TV-show in the
house, nor would he discuss the
 matter with people researching 
the complexities of this matter.
I have come to agree with my 
father. 
____________________

     Interestingly…Hubbard, as pointed out above, had married this Spring Chicken who bore him a couple of children  (Sewell Leonard Newton and Norman N. Newton) perhaps because she was of a religious family,   We learned our research that this Protestant was actually derived from an aristocratic line of the Bolles.  She was aligned biologically with the most Catholic of all the non-Roman Catholic orthodox.  For instance, to this day, the official Church of the Reign and the Kingdom of England and all places Brittanic is the Anglican Church, presided over by an Archbishop of Canterbury.  To this day, even the Protestant Episcopal Church of the United States is protestant because it says it is not subject to the Rule of the Crown (essentially the religious authority over all things Anglican).  It is an interesting paradox, anomaly, and incongruity, still unresolved.   We are not Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, or Greek Orthodox, or any of those convenient  "jidey-holes".   But we are, are an Orthodox Church…not Protestant.
  So the Newtons AND the Bolles people in the mix in America were nephews and nieces of Archbishops of Canterbury and Sir Walter Raleigh.  The Newtons had their business people and a few Counts and many fewer Dukes that any Englishman might have in their background…but we never had such as the Bolles.   As an aside, Priscilla's father-in-law and all that family have stunning ancestors full of Chancellors, Bishops, Archbishops,  Dukes, Court of the Realm, Counts, etc.   The Newton Blue-bloods come from the Christians, the original arrivals in Boston (1642) as counts of the second birth, etc., and the Christians who began to dominate the liquor, beer, and brandy production in those days from their jidey-hole in the Isle of Man…between England and Ireland 

   Priscilla's and Christian's family has a way-out-there amount of blue blood.   One of those produced was Norman N. Newton and the other was his younger sister who was last delivered.   She had married a German - American fellow, and later wound up living out in North Dakota with her brother and that other man who might have be her legal husband…that is something that is still percolating in the witches' cauldron.

     Diana's family is also blessed/cursed because most of her people came over to NoWhere Mexico because they were not first-borne - the rule of primogeniture.   Unless a person was willing to kill all those in the front of the line…it was best to take his / her blue blood and invest it in Northern Mexico and produce things like babies, sheep/wool, and crops…which my boss's Hebrew - Iberian people did…IN SPADES.   But that is another story…coming soon…at a theatre near you.

     We return somewhat quickly to this matter of Norman N. Newton.  He never suggested that he had a wife or help mate.  He learned the Lakota language, after leaving service with the Earps, thinking that he could build upon his uncles's good will.  He learned an ear-full from his uncle about the Earps, and decided he would strike north to a point in the Centre of Frigid Hell.   He made a claim to two sections (2 square miles) in a place adjacent to the territorially permitted districts of the LaKota Nation.   He knew that the southern group of these people had been dealt with dispatch, but the dealings with the northern LaKota nation in the Dakota Territory had been more genteel and predictable.
     1,280 acres was not anything comment-worthy in American terms, especially when it was considered that only one crop could be raised per year in the Dakota territory…and that would be wheat, and that grain was of a mediocre quality.   But Norman N. Newton dug his dugout home, with mud walls and with a mud roof and a certain calm due to the "ceramic closure" of the construction.  Without such a home, temperatures of 30 degrees Fahrenheit-below-zero would solve all of the problems of any homesteader…permanently.

     These homes were named "Sod Houses" by the several hundreds of "settlers" in that windswept plain.  They were not built for comfort…they were built for survival!   Searching out buffalo and cattle dung for firewood during the winter was a normalcy.   Helping Indians when they had a family emergency because the Indians almost always helped when the Caucasian type needed intercession…was something a person had to learn or forget about building a great estate.

 The inside and outside of a common sod house and a
 home of people with above average wealth, in the
 period around 1890.

__________________________________

Above, one sees the nature of the interior of a "sod house".   It is a clean but very austere dwelling.  The tough stuff was left to the men…the stuff that counted  in terms of "home" instead of "house"…was left to the females…guided by a woman who probably wondered, "What in the Hell have I gotten myself into?".

The above is an example of ''harrowing" which those
 who known everything about global warming/freezing
 have never had the pleasure to understand.  This team
 draw rake-like trailers that group up the wheat stems
 and seeds,that had been"scythed".
  Usually these deployments were done on farms that
 were 160 or more acres.  It was wheat, wheat, wheat
 or nothing until they began to do barley and other
 seed crops.   This is around 1902.
  My grandfather would have been the one charging
 for each of these horsed, at the rate of one Yankee
 dollar per day, each horse.The tiller-man made
 1.25 per day.
____________________________

     Hollywood has not quite left the Michel Landon tale about  "Little House on the Prairie" in the best, true light.   The original settlers were veterans of the "Sod House".   They were neither ashamed nor proud.  Survival requires different resolve and definitions. My grandfather Norman N. Newton made his "empire" work, and at the beginning it was from his "Sod Palace".  He was well-read…had four different collections of recently published encyclopaedias and various books about current events.  He also had the "Little Leather Library", a collection of 50 English master authors' classics.   He went somewhat predictably, if not frequently, to people who wanted advice concerning seeds, or this or that, to give them advice about bugs, temperatures, and new seed strains.

    He would consult with those "experts" and then call his neighbour(s) to put the analysis to the test.   We say he would call, because he and others put together a fairly sophisticated telephone system in the southeastern part of rural North Dakota…in 1896.   Little did he know that he would have to wait for an even better long-distance communications system…a woman…when he married in 1910.

     His wife (my grandmother) Esther Lee Christian, married after living in Mexico and losing a suitor in 1895 to bandits in the transit of the train from Vera Cruz to Mexico City.   She did well as someone kookie-bongo enough to live in North Dakota.  She had had combat experience in Minneapolis - St. Paul during her younger days…(like when she was born, in 1870…like a lot of babies).

     She spent much time working with the Indians of the area…on and off the reservations.  She had a medical degree, but certain laws prevented her from an actual license to practice her GP training.  Among the aboriginals, however, they did not care if the witch-doctor medicine man or the White Lady helped them…frequently the two collaborated…or as the Democrats of to-day might say…entered into "collusion".   Her "no-charge" largesse was rewarded when the Indian women (Lakotas) noticed that her chimney had no smoke as they passed and they knew that the "White Lady" was about 20 months pregnant (okay…she was a little short of term)…and women somehow know how those things work.   They ploughed through the snow with their own pregnancies, babies, children, dogs, horses…all winding up in the Newton Parlour and delivering that which the Stork had delivered through the window.
     My grandfather Norman was in Minneapolis finishing orders for the coming planting season and just happened to be in the process of returning to Gwinner via the reliable Burlington Northern.  Norman Newton had a large reserve of Appaloosa and Morgan horses according to my father…evenly divided between the two groups that he used for his own substantial acreage, but also for let…to other farmers who  frequently spent their money on what the older Mexicans down here call "chucherrias", a term for  "senseless whims that simply cost money…a waste".

________________________________

We do not wish to bore everyone with our dull details about something called "The Past".  It is recognised that my pitiable contribution to the advance of humanity is negligible.  But, at times, there are other generations who arrive upon this planet…whither from on High, or from some more alien place…who might appreciate knowing about "….back when".

El Gringo Viejo

____________________________________            

Homage to My Consuegro

_____________________________

     As the OROGs know, my fellow father-in-law and I share the fact that we both spent much of our professional time during this life in Mexico.  We did not go down to have a good time and play on the beach, so much, as we actually did our work there and performed our studies, services, contemplations, business, planning, and execution.

     In my case it was a matter of routing, hotel reservations by the hundreds, fifty and sixty day weeks, and my wife's holding down the fort in my absence, as well as doing all of the accounting and administration back in McAllen, Texas.   We carried, and accompanied, many thousands of clients…on excursions of from three to fifteen days…my wife carried two tiny children, frequently huge amounts of Mexican and American cash, and a baby bag, driving a five-speed manual sports car (fancy, top-end,  Toyota Celica coupe), sometimes five or ten Canadian passports, sometimes Original Naturalisation Parchment Documents of people who had obtained American citizenship (back when such documents were akin to the Two Tablets), along with scores and hundreds of standard applications for the relatively perfunctory Mexican Tourist Visa…so as to have the Mexican Tourist Visas ready for the next group.

    That required going over to Reynosa, sometimes at night, and picking up the Visas also a night or on a Saturday, and dumping off another 200 or so new applications for Visas.  In the meantime, I would be "working" at very low voltage…but 20 hours per day…or more.  The Boss was putting in about the same length of time because she also had a full-time job in the real world…and for most of that time we owned and maintained in excellent condition a moderately large coin-laundromat.

    She also had to be one of three or four people in McAllen back in 1989 who had to co-ordinate Rush Limbaugh's Rush to Excellence (while dragging along my mother - As an aside, my mother was not aware at that stage of life that she was Rush's first cousin…twice removed).   We paid one-fourth the freight to bring him down, but I was on the road at that time.   He jammed the Civic Centre with over 3, 000 people.

     To consider the nature of our Excursions, please understand that Mexico is a nation fully three times the size of the Republic of Texas.  Also, in those days, travel was…let us say…interesting.  While many of the highways were "good to excellent" others were "adequate…or almost adequate". Thankfully, by that time, there were at least numerous adequate restaurants with clean restrooms and decent to excellent forage for the tourists.

And it came to pass:

    Little girls and boys grow up and displace other realities.  My daughter and my Consuegro's son ran across each other at Southwest Texas State University (now Texas State University) and the rest is now history.  Before long they were littering the landscape with children everywhere.
   They have two daughters…both beauties and both really…and strangely…massively complex and intelligent.   Not because they are mine…they pertain to four strains of very complex and accomplished blood and genetic lines.

NOW TO THE POINT:

    My fellow father-in-law developed a talent and capability that was rare.  Perhaps some of it came from his service in the United States Navy, perhaps some of it came from a "Grand Tour" of Mexico with his Mom,  back when he was a young lad.  To go to the root, suffice it to say that my Consuegro arrived at the point of being an expert in the dangerous business of "pressure while storing oil, natural gas, and / or gasoline".  

     These matters also pertain to pipelines, about which he also is a qualified commentator, but the big deal was the huge storage tanques the Mexican company Petroleos Mexicanos (PEMEX) built and maintained during the years of almost insane expansions in terms of oil, gas, and above all, storage.

     One can readily assume that all Mexicans are dull, stupid, and incapable.  That is a comfortable intellectual hiding place, but it is also the first cousin to fool's gold.   In a way, our  friend Mr. Trump suffers a bit from that disorder.  He would be surprised to learn that Mexican engineers are, in their 75 per cent, excellent…many are brilliant and consult in Europe and the United States, and elsewhere.
      Our neighbour at the Hacienda de La Vega has an engineering degree awarded by the Instituto Tecnologico y de Estudios Superiores de Monterrey (ITESM)…aka - Monterrey Tech. This is the Hallmark University in Latin America…absolutely the finest, and most difficult.  It includes  about 15 per cent of its students from foreign countries and is the pride of Mexico among the normal intellectual class.

     One can look at the foreground in the photograph to the left, in the middle of Monterrey, Nuevo Leon.   The scene is primarily the campus of the ITESM, although not in its entirety.    The great geo-emblem of Monterrey…the Cerro de La Silla (Saddle Back Mountain), lies in the background.   The ITESM has satellite campus facilities in various cities throughout Mexico. 
     It is not an easy school to enter, but once in, one becomes an ambassador for the institution throughout the Planet.   Our neighbour and his son are both graduates…both are brilliant…both are extremely "upper-case" although, like me, ruralists.   Many Americans attend the Nuevo Leon State School of Medicine, as well as the homologue, the Medical University of the Autonomous University of Guadalajara.   There are several other medical schools that are recommendable as well.

      The reason I bring up this matter about the ITESM is not to impress folks with my knowledge of Mexican cultural details.   It is place here to cast light on my Consuegro (fellow father-in-law).   We passively solicited information about some of his previous activities.  He had been forthcoming about some of his work in Mexico…usually in difficult places, difficult engineering problems, off in the boon-docks where replacement parts and master welders, etc. were in short supply.
     But then, one time some time back, he let loose with a bunch of stuff that flabbergasted this listener / writer of this screed.   The fact is that he was called in, somewhat frequently, to evaluate and to "recommend" (read - "order") repairs, replacements, and procedures to improve oil and gasoline products for the massive company known as PEMEX (Petroleos Mexicanos, SA de CV).

     Mexican engineers of the highest category were given contracts to hire nationals and foreigners at the drop of a hat for any serious structural or mechanical problem affecting storage, processing, or transmission of PEMEX products.  PEMEX products ranged and range from mediocre to extremely high quality.   PEMEX was and is the fourth leading operator in such products and is in the same category in terms of innovation and adaptation…(environmental, for instance, was solved in its 70 per cent by chemists and engineers from Mexico. in terms of the grand improvement of the air quality in Mexico City).

      I pre-ambulate all of this so that the reader will know and understand that any Joe Gringo does not walk into the main office of PEMEX and say, "Gee, fellows…let me show you how to make gasoline out of water."  For various reasons, all good, my Consuegro became famous for being able to detect problems and how to solve them.  True enough, much was under the auspices of the private Mexican engineering firms that are respected World Wide who required…nay, at times, demanded…the presence of my Consuegro before storage tanques and other accoutrements of PEMEX properties would be repaired or replaced.

     My Consuegro was so integral in much of this "oil and gas stuff" that a motion of his hand or a paragraph at a meeting of Grand Poobahs (who were real Poobahs) would cause action in favour of his recommendation.   My hearing…and at times provoking deeper response…andhis tales keyed too securely into his stories about "travelling in Mexico" and "working on some projects" down there.   Before many months of our association I was all but humiliated that this "Navy Guy" had had more impact on Mexico than I, this "Army Guy" with generational contact with Mexico (we are roughly the same age).

      My Consuergro would, at times, open up quite a bit…then go for another cup of coffee or a beer (he and I only drink Mexican beer…another interesting fact)…and not mention another word about this or that adventure.   He was "put-up" in homes of the highest, highest, elements of Mexican aristocracy…both industrial and social.  He adapted to the roughest conditions while trying to do the best for his family and for Mexico…thence the United States.   He went into areas of Mexico where the indigenous did not speak Spanish…and still made himself understood.

     El Gringo Viejo puts these words into his "defence" because they come from his pen.   A bit of definition is entered below so as to lubricate the readers' understanding of this thing about "Legally working in Mexico"…many are called…few are chosen…my Consuegro and I were two of those who were chosen…

     Some necessary orientation points:

(1)   Minatitlan - major transportation and control point for the huge refinery at Coatzacoalcos that represented 50% of the Mexican oil industry.

(2)  Sub-comandante Marcos - a Sandinista inspired communist activist who decided, after finishing medical school, to establish armed military resistance in the hopelessly poor State of Chiapas.

(3)     Black Police -  "All Mexican Cops are corrupt"…except when you had these fellows during the time of the insurrection of "sub-Comandante Marcos"…the "Black Police".  They had a very good record of escorting people in an area of Chiapas that was made unstable by United Nations, Mrs. Mitterrand, George Soros, and other marxist money fountains, backing "sub-Comandante Marcos".

_____________________________

   (WARNING: EVERYTHING IN BLUE PRINT IS MY CONSUEGRO'S.  the interruptions are my commentary in red print.  This advisory is placed here because some people think that I inflate or fabricate facts…they almost always wind up saying, "Well, now I understand that you are telling the truth, but I thought you were joking before.  My Consuegro does not have to invent adventures and heroics.)

Here begins the content  of my Consuegro:
    

My limited experience with the Mexican Navy, Army,  and Marines. Yes! and all in a 5 day period!

     In 1994, I traveled by car from Minatitlan to Juchitan de Zaragoza, to Salina Cruz To Oaxaca and returned.   This was the period of time that Rebels, led by Sub-comandante Marcos.  

The trip going we "hooked up with "the Black Police" Every one was afraid of them but they were traveling to reinforce the station in Oaxaca. We had no problems--- it was an extremely fast trip, top speed all the way.    There would be no more escorts until the return.

     My first stop was Salina Cruz. This was and is Mexico's largest export oil terminal.  I was there to inspect some of the oil storage tanques.  Most were in the 300 foot diameter size (a Texan should probably not say anything about this, but 300 feet…only in Mexico…and they did it "better  than Belgium"as it was said).  At that time, these were huge in comparison to US tanks. Everyone asked if we ran into any problems with Marcos. We said no, but we gave no details.

      Later we were given a tour of the Naval Base.  This base protects the in-coming and out-going oil tankers. We were invited to Lunch in the Officers Mess.  I was taken to see the fuel storage area.

The base was on high alert because of Marcos. I doubt if there was any real concern but it was good training.  (Such an invitation is very, very, very rare.  Normally, people are denied access, and cannot take pictures of any kind.)

     While in Oaxaca we were directed to the Military's locations, they said that if we wanted to go to Acayucan we could join a caravan going through Marcos territory. It was a military convoy taking troops and support vehicles back to Minatitlan.

    We were part of the convoy, but only five vehicles were in line with numerous military vehicles.   We went with them, and it was slower but very secure…just another of the various adventures we had in the refineries, tank-farms, and transmission stations.

This is a relatively old picture of the Coatsocoalcos
refinery…quite near the control city of Minatitlan.

     We place this disclaimer to the above remarks and postulations.  The movement of "capitalists swine" and "foreign invaders" in that core area of Chiapas State in Mexico (adjacent to Guatemala), supposedly under the control of "sub-comandante Marcos", an errant, deranged cultural - political maniac whose family is/was extreme upper-middle class in Tampico, with some blue blood mixed into the mix, was an area that could not be depended upon, in terms of social calm.  The various Indian groups…be they Mixtec, Zapotecs, and the more numerous Maya- Lacandona and their smaller groupings…could not be depended upon even by Marcos to remain subdued during times of "peace talks".

     These Indian sub-divisions would fight their allies if it seemed correct by a moon stage or a shaman's directive.  I would like to say this is an exaggeration, but it is not.

___________________________

    One thing is certain…whether a person wishes to admit it or not…in those days it was a dangerous journey, if for no other reason being that there was no way to predict what some shaman would wake up after a night of snops, or how "sub-Comandante Marcos" (world's greatest lackey for the Ortega brothers of Nicaragua) after a night with his favourite girls and a load of cannabis…would want to begin a new offensive against the Gringo Oppressors.

My "first place" for the most despised
person in the Universe. Hated Negroes
and Mexicans and Americans and yet
is revered by the "professorial class"
throughout Academia.

     By the time my Consuegro was there, Ernest (Che) Guevara had long since gone to slumber in the arms of the agents of Satan.  It is estimated  that he slaughtered  over 1,000 Indians during his incursion into the northern part of South America.  For this he is revered on almost every major college campus, (especially in the northeast and California and the West Coast). A stupid and compliant press is always helpful when it is necessary to advance and promulgate pointless rewards and praise…especially from a likes of a murderous thug such as Ernesto.

     My Consuegro laboured to provide fuel, natural gas, and employment at excellent wages and benefits provided for, as one should know, by the income provided by the Company, PEMEX.
  The work was hard, but rewarding…and the employment and benefits package offered to him was happily something that my Consuegro could look forward to.

     He made a good living at it….for himself, his family, and for everyone with whom he had contact.   He is a pleasure for me to have known and to have associated.  It is a bit of a comedown for me…but not much…when the Hacendado of the Hacienda de La Vega comes over to the Quinta at my return and he does not ask about my trials and tribulations…first, he always asks about my Consuegro, John.

_________________________________

We shall be publishing various and sundry articles that relate to the "migrants" and to the political situation in Texas, the United States, and Mexico (and yes, even Canada).   Pray for our people in South Texas, in South Carolina, in Central Texas, and in the Republic of Texas in general.

El Gringo Viejo

______________________________________

When real men are in charge of their gardens...

This first entry comes from Gunterius Hildebrant, (a nom de plume)…who decided to frame up three stealthy invaders.  The trio sought and found refuge, apparently, in the semi-disciplined reaches of a man's type of garden.
    Mother Cat is probably out trying to steal whatever half-hamburger was left out when the eater ran in to answer the telephone.
     The task for Gunterius is to find dummies who can fall for the cute kittens and get rid of them before they turn into ugly old tomcats.   It should also be pointed out that Gunterius is actually from one of the old, highly respected "original" families of McAllen.  He is an accomplished person, and interestestingly is a first-cousin once removed of the legendary Irene Garza, my eldest brother's classmate and buddy, who was murdered by a priest back in April of 1960 in McAllen.   It is something that still stuns and emotionally stresses all of the "old timers" of the County of Hidalgo, and especially McAllen.   She, and her extended family were highly, highly regarded…respected…modest and intelligent and competent people.

    Here is our Majordomo's efforts…the man we call Sargento Mayor Alvaro…because he truly is the man in charge of the operation of the physical plant of the Quinta Tesoro de la Sierra Madre.  At times he has to serve as the hotelier as well, when El Gringo Viejo cannot be on site to attend to the clients.

    These plants to the left have many names, you…the OROG  (Order of the Readers of the Old Gringo) and any visitor can look up the name, here misnomered as crisantimo.   This is the one plant that comes in first place among the ladies of our village.   Second place is the Hoya vine that publishes really impressive hot-pink multi-petalled, waxed basket like flowers.

    Because of the nature and diversity of our very irregular gardens, we have two to five people or clusters come by every week asking for cuttings or for advice concerning "plagas (plagues)", and diets for their plants, and other advice.

    These red-balls of attraction for hummingbirds and other smaller birds and bees are not as delicate as one might think.  They can last for up to three months, although six to eight weeks is considered normal.  They come from bulbs, so one must put up with occupying major pots (one to three gallon) that essentially lies dormant for nine months of the year.

    To the left here, one can see a certain similarity between the semi-disciplined paradise for kittens that Gunterius has produced and the bramble corner part of our upper precincts of the Quinta.  This is my particular effort that attempts to provide different types of cover for a diverse universe of winged visitors.

     We try to maintain some thick clusters of safety for the many, many birds of literally 100s of species who frequent our precincts.   This occurs on a daily as well a seasonal basis, depending upon the species, of course.

      We also, as frequently stated, have huge migrations of Monarch and Sulphur Butterflies who come by…both in their going down and their coming forth in their travels between Mexico and Canada.   They seem to appreciate our orderly disorder as well. 

Thanks for your attention,
El Gringo Viejo

___________________________