Pilgrims, Refugees, and Taxpayers (with corrections made necessary because of the "phantom editor" who changes and/or drops letters and words from our original text during the nighttime hours)

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    We are caught up by obligations and guilt about having left undone those things we ought to have done, and we also have to go to midnight mass to-night, over in McAllen.   Years ago it was a matter of great pomp and circumstance, all nature of music, processions, recessions, traditions, and so forth.  We always had to squeeze 500 people into a sanctuary that was built to hold 250, and the people enjoyed it immensely, it seems.

     I served as an acolyte for 10 years, the last three as an "elder acolyte", so therefore the last three of those Midnight Masses…having worked my way up from candle tender and flag bearer, to crucifer and priest's server.  It was a fun show…even the non-high celebration services.   But Midnight Mass was something special.

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     We come to the point of exasperation about the commentators commentating with such profound banality about Joseph and Mary and her impending delivery.   It is especially juicy coming from the Roman Catholic clerical class, especially including the Bishop of the Diocese of Brownsville.  It is all but certain that every Roman Catholic Church in the Nation is making the same sad pitch and slinging guilt-trips out with haughty abandon to the commoners.

    The notion that somehow there is any equivalency between Joseph and Mary going to Bethlehem (House of Bread) to be registered and to pay their taxes to the Romans and the clamouring masses coming up from Central America is especially repugnant.   To begin, the oft-repeated observation that Joseph and Mary were poor people does not stack up with sociological probabilities at the time.

     It is known that Joseph of Arimathea was the namesake of Mary's husband and was quite possibly (or probably) his uncle.  There is lore that Jesus accompanied his Earthly father to the British Isles, along with Joseph of Arimathea who was deep into the tin mining and smelting industry that was centre'd in that area.  We should remember that Joseph of Arimathea was wealthy enough, certainly, to provide a rich man's grave to Jesus of Nazareth when that event occurred and so required.   There are some who think he might have been among the 10 richest men in the world at that time.

     That the couple had to stay in a stable for their first nights in Bethlehem, and deliver their baby there, had more to do with the crowds that would have been there, not so much the size or weight of Joseph's purse.  Please remember that both Joseph and Mary were members of the House of David, and the Jews were directed by Roman authority to return to the City that pertained to the ancient assignment of the twelve tribes.    Bethlehem, of course, to  this day is known as "The City of David".

     There were probably two or three score thousands of people coming into Bethlehem, pretty much at the same time, and accommodations would have had to have been in scarce supply.  The probability is that the couple managed to obtain some space in a stable that was partially open and also somewhat cave-like, providing them, thankfully, at least a roof over their heads.   These erosive "carve outs" in the low hills had been done by leaching and wind erosion and are fairly common in the area, and were frequently used for stabling.

     The image of the Three Wise Men from the Orient is not well served when they are presented as attendees in the stable of the Nativity.   As an aside, the image of them trodding through the deserts alone on camels is a fond notion, perhaps, but it is very, very far from likely.  Such personalities would have had massive train, with security, foods and spices, a money cache, and probably 300 or so servants and technical people.   After all, it must be considered that they gained an audience with Herod with little trouble.   Even the Roman authority, apparently, had a "hands off" demeanour towards them.

   According to Matthew 2:11, 12 - it is stated…"And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

     "And being warned of God in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed into their own country another way."
     It should be noted that the word "house" indicates that Jesus was "long gone" from the stable by the time the Wise Men came and went from His presence.

     Furthermore, another dream interceded in the plans of men as the story unfolds in Matthew 2:13 - 15  -  "And when they were departed, behold, the Angel of the Lord appeareth unto Joseph in a dream, saying "Arise, and take the young child and his mother, and flee into Egypt, and be thou there until I bring thee word:  for Herod will seek the young child to destroy him.

    "When he arose, he took the young child and his mother by night, and departed into Egypt: and was there until the death of Herod:  that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying Out of Egypt I have called my son."   

     These things indicate that Joseph and Mary and Jesus were well enough off, certainly, to find a decent abode to begin a nurturing style of life for the new addition.   Did Joseph of Arimathea put in a good word for his nephew?  Did he have some spare rental properties around for a rest-and-recovery period for the new mother? Did he finance the flight to Egypt?   

    And, revisiting the beginning of all this trouble, we need to rememember that Luke 2:1-4 - it is clearly stated in the King James Unabridged, "…And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.   (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was Governor of Syria). and all went to be taxed, every one into his own own city.   And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the City of Nazareth, into Judea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem;  because he was of the house and lineage of David:"

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      These scriptures from the King James, Unabridged make beautiful, Shakespearean-like

Flavius Josephus
37 a.d.  -  100 a.d.
 He was one of those rare birds who
was both a Jew and a Roman.  He was
also a brilliant philosopher and historian
 as well as a military leader of the grade of
general.  He wrote the definitive history of
the Holy Land,  early on, having been born
shortly after the Death of Jesus.  His Jewish
name was Joseph ben Matityhu, and he was
essentially of the Sadducee Jewish class, an
aristocrat…very accomplished.

reading, and at times the words also tend to step on toes of analysts and students of things like time-lines, etc.   True enough, King Herod the Great died four years before Jesus of Nazareth was born…according to the experts and scientific minds.  But for all I know, Jesus of Nazareth might have been born five years before He, Himself was born, and perhaps the Historian Josephus got it all wrong…??

     Perhaps a bunch of people got it all wrong, or maybe just partially wrong…but one thing is for dead certain.   There is absolutely nothing of any similarity between the onslaught of illegal aliens pouring into the Republic of Texas and the United States and the perils faced by Joseph and Mary, their Baby and thousands of others during those times at and around the Nativity.

     To begin with, Joseph and Mary went to Bethlehem to pay taxes and register their names in the Roman census.  The people pouring up from Central America and elsewhere are being driven and herded by political operatives to invade an area of sovereignty with the expressed intent to take taxes in the form of public assistance in massive amounts.

    The people who went, "each unto his own city" were in almost all cases compliant subjects of the Roman government, whether they liked it or not.   They had to hang around for a good while, away from their crops, trades, animals, etc. to take care of all that "government stuff" and then return to their abodes and pick up where they had left off, and try to make things run again.

     In dealing with the authorities, please be certain that the Jews, save for a very, very few were scorned by the Romans and considered to be only slightly better than cattle.  Treatment of the Jews and other similar people in the area was capricious and brutal. and insurrection of any kind was met almost always with horrid imprisonments or crucifixion or worse.
     It was slight solace, perhaps, to realise that the Romans were possibly a bit less brutal than the satrap King of the Jews, Herod the Great.  The Romans gave considerable latitude to the leaders of the Jewish Sanhedrin (governing body) and the recognised leaders like the King,   in terms of ruling over issues that pertained primarily to Jews of the various sects…such as the Essenes, "Baptists", Sicarii, Sadducees / Karaites, and Zealots for instance.

    Reading the works of Flavius Josephus and others who wrote during and just after the Crucifixion underscore these points quite clearly.  So the notion that there is some kind of equivalency between the Holy Family and the "caravans" is silly at best and outlandish to the point of purposeful mendacity.  It is demonstrable that the "caravan" matter was a faux movement designed to shame the American people and those desirous of having a strong international boundary, north and south.

     It is somewhat rewarding to note that our diagnosis has been dead on during this entire episodeof guilt-gifting by the marxists and "human rights" organisations.  It has become apparent, for instance, that the "caravan"people have been essentially abandoned by the original "organisers". Those "leaders" of the movement who pointed the way north for the "oppressed", and shepherded"just nice young mothers pushing strollers with babies" into danger did not give a bucket of warm spit for or about the "migrants".   Their objective was, is, and shall forever be the destruction of America and Texas by any and every means possible.

     Returning to the Holy Family, when the time was accomplished that the angel advised the return to Nazareth, the Family went back…they did not uselessly languish on the dole in Egypt and implement a system of living off of public assistance while hating their hosts.  They did not strive to implement a system of chain migration, and I sincerely doubt that they demanded printed matter be provided in Hebrew.     

      Imagine please, that we are looking at Venezuela, Nicaragua, and Cuba involved in free-fall economic disaster, complete with blatant strong-arm oppression of their people.   Daniel Ortega has just recently ordered the off-again, on-again harassment game against the last remaining independent television station in Nicaragua, along with the on-again, off-again jailing of the "President's enemies".

     Brazil is in the position of pouring regular Army units into the frontier area with Venezuela because the people fleeing Venezuela are causing mayhem in Brazil now.  Venezuelans have also befouled the situation in Colombia, adjacent to the West of Venezuela, having now inundated with impoverished and destitute people fleeing the Wonderland created by Chavez and Maduro.

Miguel Diaz Canel
Dictator - President of Cuba

     New crackdowns by Miguel Diaz Canel, the first non-Castro surnamed President of Cuba in fifty-five years has recently reinstated strict social and "revolutionary" standards, maintaining the dictatorial posture of the central Cuban government.   The arts and entertainment sector has been particularly sanctioned as of late, and certain of the Castro period's minuscule "reforms" have been foregone, returning things to the old Castro-ite standards.

     We are playing a game with cads and vermin.  When the Obsolete American Press can show a picture of a detained child, in chains, locked in a kennel box in a situation dating back to 2014, and somehow blame those of us who vote Republican for said event…and then pat themselves on the back for that great stroke of "standing up for the oppressed", we must recognise that we are dealing with people who consider mendacity to be a reasonable weapon when truth is inconvenient.

     It is the same with all of them, Rigoberta Menchu' tim,  the nice, Mayan Indian woman who has worked so hard for the poor and for women's issues….?   And it turns out that her "story" about her village being shot up by "government" soldiers, and it turned out to be all but a total fabrication…it was perhaps the inspiration that Pocahontas Warren needed to remember that she, too had suffered from being a Indian…and just think about that most profound statement by any member of the Obama Choir of Sycophants, like good ole' Dr. Gruber, the brilliant economist. when Jonathan Gruber tried to explain and justify the absurd Obamacare programme;  ...he suggested that many lawmakers and voters didn't know what was in the law or how its financing worked, and that this helped it win approval. 
     "Lack of transparency is a huge political advantage,” Gruber said. "And basically, call it the stupidity of the American voter or whatever, but basically that was really, really critical for the thing to pass."

     This, in fact, is how the left sees us.  They pray for the day when the United States looks like Haiti and when the entirety of the nation's people  is wearing grey Mao outfits and looking like North Korean peasants…93 pounds, eating grass, waiting to die.  The leftist leaders are certain, like Mrs. Pelosi and Mr. Schumer, that they will be safe behind their walls and security-coded entry gates with private, armed security personnel totally available…how does one say it?   Oh, right!! "24 / 7".   

     We leave this topic about comparatives and honesty.   Almost every statement made during this "caravana" thing has been false or purposefully misleading if it proceeded from the pen, mouth, or computer of the Obsolete Media workers and personalities.   The correct information was available and could have been used to better effect, but it was not, save for some reporting being done by newsletters, radio, and a few blogs.  FOXNews had some minimal positive impact, but never really understood what was going on "down there".

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     We are going to chuck it in for the night.  Children are coming down to-morrow, so I guess it will be necessary to take a bath.   Please understand that we are not going to walk away from this "migrant" , "immigrant", and caravan thing.  The phenomena is nothing like what would be a correct definition of any of those three words or concept.   It is truly an assault on the Republic, and we have correctly identified several of the major players involved in this deceptive game.

More later,

EL GRINGO VIEJO

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A peculiar Christmas present of sorts…very late in arriving

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     This is a relatively simple story.  It is something with which I lived but did not realise until very, very recently.  Many folks and followers of this somewhat helter-skelter account of my life and my understandings, interpretations, and experiences know that we are apt to paint in broad strokes at one moment and then suddenly revert to fine brush detail, figuratively speaking.  Only my mother was a painter…my oldest brother was a pen and ink artist extraordinaire.  I am a dilettante of a sort.

     Most of the OROGs (Order of Readers of the Old Gringo) who follow this screed are aware that my father was born in Gwinner, Sargent County, North Dakota because he had to be close to his mother at a time such as that.   That blessed event occurred 117 years ago.  The family then consisted of a successful wheat farmer aged 50, his new wife aged 40, and a boy-baby less than a year old.

     The wife had a father who was associated with the Washburn - Christian Mills in Minneapolis, Minnesota who was an industrialist tinkerer, somewhat under the auspices of that concern.  He was an experimenter, a kind of industrial spy and negotiator, and a student of modernity, progress, and improvement.   He had travelled to Europe, studying their techniques of farming and their industrial implements and their elaboration as well as maintenance.  He also studied the processes of processing, refining, distilling, preserving, and transporting farm products, both perishable and storable.

     This nouveaux Renaissance Man was, like his great-grandson, something of a cross between  a spontaneous, impulsive actor and a deliberating, calculating thinker.   Not quite manic-depressive to be sure, but one who could lead his fellows into exasperation, I am sure.  His next to last folly and success was the purchase of a relatively large hacienda (plantation) in a rural place in Vera Cruz State in easternmost Mexico.  He, along with his daughter (my grandmother) cared for this plantation in the tropical forests in the highlands west of Tuxpan, about 40 miles from the Gulf of Mexico.

     All went well save for one thing.  From 1893 through 1900 inclusive, there were three devastating freezes and snow episodes, something unheard of, nor written about, from the time of the arrival of the white man on said soil.  The Totonac Indians and the Huastec Indians of the area had no word in their language for snow, for instance.  The climate quite normally always gave each year eleven months of steamy days, cool nights with mountain breezes, and two heavy rainy periods, the Spring and the Autumn.  Like clockwork and calendar pages.

     

     After the third round of freezes and snows, my great-grandfather had to leave the effort he had begun in the 1880s (somewhere in this mass of papers in my command post, I have abstract and Mexican title, with the date and dimensions).  The orchards and plantings of mangos, avocados, citrus, and the like were all destroyed.  Money was set aside by the Christian family to pay for several years more to the people such as those very noble servants, workers, and tradesmen who had attended the plantation for the better part of 15 years…according to my father.

     This father of mine, who was less than one year old, 117 years ago, spoke only infrequently about his grandfather…or even his father…or his mother.   He had no distaste for them, and in fact, seemed to revere them as people a little beyond human.  He, as a late and only progeny, was terribly, terribly spoiled.  For instance, at the age of 10 he had a 60 pound pet male racoon that he had raised from a pup…and who slept in his room in the fancy house on the edge of Ed Couch, Texas.  His toys, were we to have them to-day, would bring a Duke's ransom.

     The family had moved down to the very frontier of Texas, adjacent to the Rio Grande and the northeastern-most part of Mexico during the mid-19teens.  There they established a farm with row cropping and citrus orchards and irrigation.   All of this was done in concert with the presence of Peter Bonesteel Christian who had moved into that area some ten or twelve years before.  He had, by hook and telegraph, managed to coax his daughter and son-in-law to come down to the violent, crazy, hell-hole, combat zone of Hidalgo County, Texas during those years of social and military upheaval of the Mexican Revolution,  to grow 300 pound cantaloupe and 10 - pound oranges while baling 15 bales / acre of Egypt-grade cotton.   To be sure, Peter Bonesteel Christian could spin a good tale even in his dotage…and frequently the tales were accurate.

     For several years, the Newton family did well, prospering and suffering a major setback when their first home burned to the ground in 1918, only a couple of years after its construction.  Thankfully, much was salvaged because much of their "stuff"  was still stored in the train warehouse in Weslaco, 8 miles to the South.  The house was rebuilt, and life began and ended during a pleasant 10 year sojourn, terminated by a fairly sudden set of reversals.
    First was the Crash of 1929, when thousands of banks throughout the nation, large and small, collapsed.   My grandfather had been taking rental payments from people using the North Dakota property to plant wheat.  Then suddenly they stopped paying…my grandfather had trouble scraping up anything due to crop prices collapsing and his "trust account" having been evaporated.  As it turned out, corrupt personalities in North Dakota played a trick, common to thieves, of having the property declared in arrears for tax reasons, and then having a "quick call" Sheriff's auction.
    In this procedure, some dolt is selected from the community, and that dolt will be given a relatively large sum of money to bid on the auction.  Then, by previous arrangement, the dolt will win the auction and the title transferred to him.  After a respectable period (30 days or so), the dolt will sell the property for some token price, and then the shysters will make off with their property and "legal title".

The 1925 Hidalgo County Courthouse
Edinburg, Texas
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     From 2,000 miles away, in 1929 or so, my grandfather already in declining health, could not fend for himself truly…and they simply lost everything.  My grandmother was also in ill health, and her condition was declining.  It was a tale that was repeated throughout much of the United States, starting in 1928 and proceeding through 1936 or so.  Things did not improve much, oddly enough, until World War II began.

     My father noticed this reversal of family prosperity during his last year in high school in   Edinburg, Texas…and this is where the story begins to end…although there are many stories in the future that will fill in the before this and many other tales are told.
    In those years, a student ended his high school at the 11th grade.  My father, as I, finished the six grades of primary in five years, and he graduated from secondary a little early, and began studies at the new Pan American Junior College, in Edinburg, Texas…the County Seat of Hidalgo County by that time.
     One of the last small luxuries the family had was that my father could drive and they still had a fairly new motorcar.  Since Ed Couch was about 15 miles (a considerable distance in those years) from Edinburg, this allowed my father to pick up a few hours of collegiate study at the new school, not far from where he had attended high school (2 blocks).
      So, early in 1929, with a high school diploma and a few college hours under his belt, he decided to "save

A Locomotive of the Period - served from
1909 until 1936
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his family" and he took the Southern Pacific daily to San Antonio and reported to the induction centre next to Fort Sam Houston and volunteered to serve in the Army. 
     This was a prize for the recruiter because in those years very few candidates had a high school diploma and a bit of college.  His scores were good and he was fit according to the military saw-bones.  An ominous question ended the analysis of the applicant's qualification to join the service, and that was, "Are you allergic to horses or farm animals?"
  He answered "No." and thought nothing more of it.  He then had to hang around in a San Antonio for three or four days, for swearing in, date of induction instructions, and some paperwork.  He had the opportunity in the "Big City" to stop in at an "Abraham Lincoln Brigade" organising rally…and so he received a good dose of what a real, live Bolshevik / Communist recruiting operation looked like.  Little did he know that he would be having more active involvement in a more direct way with such people in a few months.
     After the processing work, he was given a War Department voucher and taken back to the nearby train station, and he returned to Edinburg's train station.  He returned to his home, informed his parents that he was in the Army now, and would be returning in 30 days to formalise everything and receive training.

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Above, as stated, is the first passenger train to make it from
Brownsville to Rio Grande City.  My father rode it once, late
in his service, in the "Command Car" with the General and
his staff.  My father was the lowest ranking officer on board
that car…but at least he was there!!
The engine depicted in the next image up was more like what
took him to San Antonio to join the Army as well as the one
that he took "with the General".  

   It should suffice to say that my father did well enough in the service.  The only problem was that it was in the mounted cavalry.  And, to add insult to injury, he was returned to his home area, because he was a sharp kid, and because he could speak, read, and write Spanish.  He was assigned to the Headquarters Squadron of the 1st Cavalry Division (Mounted), 12th Regiment.  His position was something akin to what is now known as OCS (Officers' Training School), which back then was very much akin to OJT (On the Job Training) in civilian life. 

     He served from sometime during mid - 1929 through the mid - 1934, essentially doing frontier patrol on the Rio Grande, mainly between San Ygancio, Texas, and Fort Ringgold - Rio Grande City, and Fort Brown - Brownsville.  He had various encounters, similar to to-day's ups and downs, but those are stories for another time.

     What becomes important is that he marries around the time of his enlistment finishing up.  He has lost his grandfather, father, and mother, and is preparing to go out into the real world, out of uniform, and into the Depression, into civilian life, with nothing to serve him but his wits and his life experience.  He had some understanding of agricultural processes and agri-mechanics and so forth, and he had a wad of money from his time in the Army, because he had spent little or nothing while serving.  He is 23 years old.

     He did a little "field supervision" for large growers who knew him and his family and his wife's family at first, and then noticed that almost all the draft animals were gone and mechanisation was now almost universal.  He begins to…how is it said?…network with the various farm and ranch personalities, all of whom learn fairly quickly that my father is deft and adept in dealing with what is perhaps the most valuable element standing on all these properties, and that is the semi-legal, and legal Mexican citizen who is looking for work in Texas.

     While these folks were a long way from home, they adapted to conditions well, learned quickly, and thought that a workday was from sun-up until sun-down, or "whatever it took". My father and mother also delivered mail, mailers, and newspapers, they also began thinking about a future involving their own agricultural business.   The year 1936 came and the stork was in flight, arriving in early May at the Edinburg Hospital…which was fortunate there because it was a fairly regular SRS (Stork Resting Station) for some reason.  In this case, he brought my eldest brother Milton Birchard, Jr.

     My father began including a wider and wider network in his activity, both social and professional.  He happened to make an impression finally on a gaggle of men who were involved in a contest with various other investors, growers, and processors.  He began to be given social responsibility such as forming up and guiding the local Boy Scouts of America Troop in Edinburg, and helping, while being paid, with the Pan American Tennis Team, which had developed quite a nationwide impression almost overnight.
     My mother felt as though my father was burning the candle at all six ends, and puffed up a bit about it…but in the main she knew something positive was in the future and continued to help on all fronts.   Although shy, my mother was also very active in church matters, along with various service clubs.  She employed a maid who became essentially the Directora General of the domestic situation…although my mother excelled in cooking, sewing, painting, and gardening.  She and Guadalupe Gonzales Gonzales never had a cross word in 30 years of interaction.  Guadalupe (Lupe) worked four days on and three days off the entire time.

     In any regard, one day a man came from on high and asked my father if had ever thought about going into the citrus business in a serious way.  My father had been doing some grove care work and supervision, and although it was hard work, it was rewarding, to his way of thinking.  This man decided to "domesticate" my father and offered him a set of alternatives, and suggested that it would be a good idea to talk it over with the wife and his crew of Mexicans (which my father said later that he had never seen those men as "his" crew).  He saw them as "associates" and friends, and to him it seemed that they were all "Keepers" (excellent workers)".

    So,  my father went and talked to my mother.  She said she was tired of him going out to take rich kids on hikes with their cute little uniforms when there were bigger fish to fry (…or something to that effect).  So my father went back to this possible benefactor and said that he would like to take plan "A".

This is a picture of the type of tractor for which my father
 jumped off the cliff.  It is a 1935 model B John Deere, of
 which four were purchased, all used, reconditioned, and
 guaranteed by the seller.

     Plan "A" meant accepting a loan for the purchase of a tract of land north of McAllen, Texas of some 20 acres, with the mineral rights and legal work.  That act would cost a little more than 5,000 dollars (remember, that was in 1939).  It would also require about 5,000 dollars for the purchase of four late model, used John Deere tractors.   They were jewels., and each served until the end of the time that we were in  the business.
     There were many other things to be bought, like a house and pickups and trailers, and equipment, and attachments for the tractors, lodging for the Mexican workers, and on and on.  In all, the financing would come up to around 55,000 dollars which was a preposterously huge sum.
     The experience with my grandfather caused pause, so to speak, with both my father and my mother…as well as my other grandfather and  grandmother, who were adamant about the ills of doing business with Yankee bankers.  They pointed out what had happened to "everyone in the South after the War" and they knew what had happened when my other grandfather could not pay off a bank note with a  minuscule remainder (2 payments of 60), and was foreclosed of all his property in Ed Couch, due to a Bully Banker with deep political connections.
  But my father was willing to take charge and, as stated above, jump off the cliff, assuming massive debt but knowing inside that he had the mettle to rise to the peak of the mountain.  Supposedly my mother said one time to her mother, "Mom, if he can ride a warhorse at full gallop and hit a target with a Krag and Jorgensen carbine at 50 yards, he might can do anything." That, of course, was in reference to his service in the Mounted Cavalry just a few short years before.

    To make a very long tale just a short as possible, and to save a whole lot of stuff for a later time, we shall move on to the climax.  During the earlier times just after the beginning of this article we pointed out that my grandparents had moved down to the Lower Rio Grande Valley and bought property for a farming operation.  It was a considerable purchase, perhaps 320 acres. All the while, a just slightly before, another individual came down to the Lower Rio Grande Valley and bought a bit of land…about 130 acres…near the newly founded town of Mission, Texas…about 35 miles from the town of Ed Couch, which is east of Mission.

It would probably dismay Ted Cruz to
 see how similar at the same age, he
 and William Jennings Bryan appear,
 at roughly the same age.
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    This other arrival was also active in the citrus and nut production business and was disposed to begin a retirement regimen where snow and cold would not hold sway for large portions of any given year.   This was, of course, the Great Commoner, William Jennings Bryan, the populist Democrat speaker, politician, and philosophical guide to the saner part of the Progressive movement. 
     In three runs for the Presidency of the United States, William carried almost every Southern State each time…and in the case of Texas, oddly enough, he carried it all three times.

     In any regard, in 1909 he established a home just north of Mission by about two miles and began to become active in the burgeoning agricultural industry. The main movers and shakers were mainly into the infrastructure, such as the business of putting irrigation systems into place, levelling farmland, developing regimens of planting this, that, and the other crops.   These fellows were actually glad to have Bryan in the area because even people who did not vote for him liked him anyway, and he was a good draw to attract land buyer and investors.
    So, William Jennings actually intended to finally settle down and make money passively, while engaging in political debates by editorials and exchanges of letters.  But, alas for him, such was not to be.  A man nowhere near his moral or intellectual equal, Woodrow Wilson, called upon Bryan to serve as his Secretary of State, and Bryan somewhat reluctantly, but with aplomb and resolution picked up and moved, selling his really nice, new home and rendering up his orchards and groves of fruits and nuts to the market.   It is said that he always regretted the act of leaving the "Magic Lower Rio Grande Valley".

     Bryan, in my opinion, served Wilson well, but Wilson did not serve Bryan well…and clashes with the really spooky "Colonel House", Wilson's closest advisor had a steady negative effect on on Bryan.  You all know I am telling the truth, because Bryan was certainly not my philosophical or political cup of tea, to say the least.  But he was, like your humble servant, a person with considerable Confederate appeal, and unlike Wilson, was also a believer in the future of the Negro as a fully integrated, accomplished member of the American civilisation.  Wilson was a bigoted nut-case liberal Progressive who still had notions of shipping all Negroes back to Africa…or worse.

This is apparently a wedding,  taking place in April of  1919 in the home and obviously on the
 grounds of the Bryan House  a short time after Owen Councils and his family had purchased it.
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    In any regard, now you will know the rest of the story.   For several years our family lived just off Bryan Road by one lot, a principal street in near-downtown Mission, Texas.  My male child spent a year or two at the elementary school named for Bryan, which is of course on Bryan Road about 8 blocks from where my son lived…(along with his sister, mother, and El Gringo Viejo). 

A relatively recent photograph of the Bryan House
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     So, for all these years of my life I did not know until yesterday that the man who bought the Bryan house when Bryan was called to serve President Wilson was the very same Owen Councils, the banker who backed my father in the establishment of the business of his life.

    So, the song, "Shall the Circle, Be Unbroken" keeps going around in circles.   You all should also know, my father paid off everything ahead of schedule in spite of terrible climate problems in the late 1940s and early 1950s (droughts and freezes). He began a career in teaching at the secondary level.  He also taught at the school where he took his first college hours, but by that time it had become a "university".   He also completed a curriculum that led to a kind of doctorate in administration of facilities for the mentally disabled.
    He ended his professional career as the Superintendent of the Texas State School for the Mentally Retarded.   He brought many low-keyed reforms to that facility, which remains the largest of many such facilities in the Republic of Texas.  The staff literally wept both when he retired and when the died in 1983.

Now you know what a long-winded Texian can do when it's too cold to bait a hook.  More later, and we certainly appreciate your time and attention.
EL GRINGO VIEJO

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Back from the Quinta Tesoro de la Sierra Madre - cold and damp and strangely pleasant

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     We went down to our place very close to the Tropic of Cancer so as to relieve our caretaker and manager who had been "under house arrest" for three weeks.  He never really complains about the longish stays, and there is plenty to do around the adobe house, the grounds, and the surrounding area.  It is said with a bit of humility on the part of your humble servant that our"Man Everyday" has considerable status in the greater area because of his position as the "Encargado (Man in Charge)".  He is remarkably talented in the blue-collar skills as well as being, although slightly presumptuous, a polished social engineer.  He is very courtly and polished in manners and compliance, as well as just arrogant enough to draw the line when he finds any untoward conduct or activity at our place or the neighbours' places.

     This particular stay proved to be a bit challenging due to the cold (temperatures ranging between 38F to 58F for the 9 - day duration).  When mixed with the almost continuous foggy, drizzly, and solid cloud deck even our thick adobe walls could not keep out the dank, chilly invasion into the interior of our abode.   True enough, I was too cheap to burn a lot of fire-wood or run a medium-sized electric heater or turn on a kitchen burner under a kettle of water continuously as a warming measure.   But now, think of the money that was saved.   Now, if I can only get out of this Sasquatch suit.

     Suffice to say, I did dress in three or four layers deep of winter-type garb, turning my image into something like a 490-pound Sasquatch…especially when I had my (mainly bald) head covered  by both a wool pull-on hood and the hood of my Sasquatch coat.  It is somewhat humiliating, to be sure, to note that the workers at the Hacienda de La Vega worked every day with a light windbreaker or even in short sleeves, without complaint or even mention during this whole episode.   

This outpouring of real-live, native, wild garlic
 vine blooming a few feet from the South end
 of our long, west-facing corridor.
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    During a brief period of a bit of filtering light from "above", El Gringo Viejo happened to make a fairly nice capture of the tropical "garlic vine" putting on its show.

    The plant gains its name among the locals due to the pronounced scent one can detect by handling the leaves of the plant.  The flowers themselves do not seem to attract bees or butterflies to any level beyond the occasional, almost accidental encounter, or so it seems to me.  The flowers also have a hint of garlic on them…nice for the living room.

     Black-tailed squirrels seem to enjoy the scent, or perhaps they use some ingredient in the plant that keeps the squirrels' blood pressures in check.   Small birds and, of course, the ubiquitous swarms of hummingbirds revel in any display.

This is my photo, which I consider to be excellent, mainly
because any photo that has any focus at all is a success
for me.
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    We managed to take three or four pictures that came out perhaps half-way decently.  It was not really all that humiliating for my boss-lady to show me pictures that my daughter took up in Extreme Central Texas that were better by a wide margin.  Those two women…actually all the people in the world, apparently, can take and trade out photographs in seconds…any of which can humiliate anything this writer can produce.   All of the pictures on this page, however, are made under auspices of this writer (except for the one below the Monarch). 

     To the reader's left, one can see an interesting phenomena.   This is a Monarch queen, on a very cool day, fluttering around for literally hours.  Sometimes she had friends and family around, sometimes she was alone.  Several times there were a score or so dancing around the several scores of Butterfly Weed, bringing to mind the scenes around Angangeo (aha gahn GAY oh), Michoacan, in central Mexico during the depths of Winter, one of several places where billions, literally, of Monarchs pass their time waiting for the northward return in late January through  mid-March.   They would latch on to one another, forming long, long beards made entirely of slumbering Monarch Butterflies.

An example of Monarch "beards" near Angangeo, at
around 8,500 feet above sea level, and only about 80
miles west of Mexico City
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     The Quinta lies on one of the fly-ways.  Another fly-way runs along the Gulf Coast.  The trek is multi-generational, usually requiring that a "family" will have to make their trips (one-way) over a  four to five per-year generational odyssey.
   When we put the adobe Quinta in place, those first years were replete with massive flights of Monarchs and Sulphurs.  Then  we  had a gradual decline,  until finally, around 2006 - 2009 one could not count on seeing a Monarch during the entire day.  Sulphurs arrived in great numbers as usual but not the Monarchs.
  Your writer conducted several excursions back in the 1980s to the preserves in the Angangeo area.   It was not an easy excursion, but the people seemed to really enjoy it.  One of the problems with it was the fact that in order to reach the centre point of the congregation of Monarchs…(and only Monarchs), the people had to walk at high elevation for about 2.5 miles each way.  We would brief them about medical issues and about being certain that they were capable of such exertion.  Luckily we did not have a significant medical incident in any of the excursions.

     During the period from 1995 through 2010 there was, increasingly,  considerable "timber poaching" by illegal "forest workers" in areas that abounded in oaks, firs, spruce, and other noble trees that are both huge and old.  That, as well as several super-cold episodes, had a deleterious effect upon the Monarchs.  As usual, the "climate experts" and the other "environmental experts" assembled to repeat the truth, combined with comments about the newest murders of The Environment being committed by George Bush and the fascist Republicans and Rich people…and Evangelical Religious Nuts.   Most of the experts announced that the Monarch was finished, and that global warming and the impending Ice Age would combine to kill off any remaining stragglers.  And the Polar Bears, too.
     The Tree Huggers Association were about half-right and about half-wrong.  Continue reading.

     However, on the way to the dance, a strange sociological thing happened.  Mexico's rural folk seemed to start being a little more committed to eleminating litter and such, and the timber poachers and buyers began to convert to becoming lower-case members of the burgeoning cartel rackets.   That meant many of those involved in the poaching would be abundantly killing each other, leaving fewer timber poachers every year, especially since around 2006 or so.   Currently, it is my understanding, that there has been significant improvement of forestry techniques.
     Some real-live do-gooders with foundation money and other tax-based resources have had considerable positive effect.  Also, the preservation of a common weed, called "milk weed" in the South and Texas has proven to be effective due to the work of local agencies and community folks along the "Monarch Highways."

     We mention here that our "neighbour", the owner of the Hacienda de La Vega, worked directly in these matters when he was in charge of four States in the Mexican Union.  He was essentially what we would title Undersecretary of the Department of Agriculture and Rural Development. That particular division, among other things, was tasked with the mission of re-planting, soil and air analysis, formation of ready and competent platoons and companies of men to attack forest fires in the rural areas, and many other improvements.
    He also co-ordinated and even flew with American helicopter pilots (many, if not all, of these guys served in Viet Nam and the first Iraq War).  Those Americans were part of a private contracting company that provided helicopter fire control throughout the North American Continent, (and yes, they were crazy).  The Mexicans loved their performance and skill…our neighbour regarded them as though they were magic, like Angels.  The platoons and companies of common Mexican rural workers and the work of the "Pilots Locos" (Crazy Pilots) reduced acreage loss by forest fire by 90% during our neighbour's tenure.

Cluster of multiple Butterfly Weeds.
It is best to not kill the caterpillars that
 might be encountered on these plants,
 because the plants are actually a
 maternity ward for Monarchs.
  The plants actually like to be eaten,
 and they almost always come back
sometimes even stronger.
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     But I digress.  There are other portraits of a semi-recluse's gardens and grounds.   We urge, for instance, when planting Butterfly Weeds that it is good to cluster them,  not too closely, perhaps 18 to 24 inches from one to the other.   Plant as many as possible, because the more the offering, the more butterflies and hummingbirds one will have. 
     One can take note to the left, Butterfly Weeds, blooming fearlessly in the dead of Winter (almost).   After investing a bit of a count, it was determined that at various points of the upper property we have about 300 of these plants.

     Just behind the "castillo (castle)" is hiding what is revealed in the image just below, a red Shrimp Plant, catching a bit of sun like its neighbours.  This is also a grand attractor of hummingbird, and to a lesser degree the butterflies.

A relatively huge, one-plant only clump of a Shrimp
Plant, guarding the entrance of the Quinta

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We have had people drive by who are very local and asked permission to take pictures of the Shrimp Plant.  I offered them some stems that Alvaro and I will root in brackish water (more soluble minerals) which we offer to people.   It is necessary to wrap the lower stems with a paper towel that has been dampened for the trip home (usually 3 to 10 minutes), especially if the stem has already rooted.
     The receiver of such a gift should place the stems in water for three days, while preparing a bedding or potting place.  A good mix of some balance potting soil, or black river silt with about a 25% sand-silt to 75% black soil  mixture.  The Shrimp Plants are fairly aggressive and sometimes have to be cut back because they sometimes suddenly lurch out and eat the whole house.
    Almost.

      We shall go ahead and shorten this ramble, leaving Prieto (Dark One) and his war wounds and his visions of Doggy Bone Treats and Gravy Train and a chance to sleep inside one more night to stay out of the cold, dancing through his head.
     He has been a good dog, but it is a bit sad when he looks around for previous visitors who are less frequent during the past three or four years.   He knows they will come back and we have had more inquiries as of late, but for now he is glad to have a really nice place to call home…and heck, he has a crystal, spring-water swimming pool (the Rio Corona) just a two-minute slow walk from his front gate.
     He has a "back way" as well, but he goes through there when he wants to taunt the squirrels or, as dogs are prone to do, poke around, sniffing, and being disgusting like dogs are.   But that's what makes them "Man's Best Friend" I guess.
     We have been asked about Prieto's recent declaration about running for the Senate for one of Tamaulipas's three Federal Senators' position in the coming by-elections, but we actually learnt that he may be disqualified because he has too much clandestine American money invested in his campaign fund. He also has been accused of lying about his Cherokee Ancestry.   It's a small world.  

    Enough of the "intimate views" of transitional Seasons in the area of the Haciendas de La Vega and Santa Engracia, and the Quinta Tesoro de la Sierra Madre.  Remember our address…Somewhere in Rural Mexico, at the base of the high mountains, where once every two or three years it can be pretty darned cold.
  To-morrow we have an active day of it…after Mass…we get to go the the "Going Away Party" of our present Priest.  He is actually going into retirement…fishing and hanging around, and so forth.   He is still relatively young and serviceable, so he will probably be sought out as a "visiting Priest".   He has been a hard worker and an excellent officiant.

As always, we appreciate everyone's time and attention, OROG and visitor alike. 
EL GRINGO VIEJO

Addenda:  A note from two of our best and most loyal friends and clients (always appreciated by El Gringo Viejo.)

Thank you for the updates from your beautiful place in Santa Engrasia and our friend, Alvaro and the wounded, mighty Prieto. Speaking of the monarchs, when I was a youngster living in the mountains of NC, my Dad had a strong pair of binoculars.  As the comet Kohoutek was all in the news, binoculars were the things of fashion in 1973.  Well, one afternoon as I was glancing at close-ups of all things imaginable, I happened to glance straight up into the sky. To my utter amazement, I saw a butterfly unseen to the naked eye.  Then I saw another, then another.  It turned out that it was a virtual butterfly highway up there.  The only way you could see them was with the aid of the binoculars.  We, evidently, were on one of the many routes they take south.  Love to all in your home and may your Advent be an adventure towards His perfect light.

With great affection,

M and A
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Credo Vivente ….a living creed...

___________________________

CREDO VIVENTE

Addressed to -  El Gringo Viejo

privatouring@gmail.com

found at times in his Native Texas and at other

times on his and his wife's finca in rural Mexico

________________________________________

I KNOW WHAT I AM:

Consuegro,

 After much reflection, a great deal of probing, and a substantial number of drops of finer quality tequila over the years, I have, at long last come to the answer.

But first I must make a couple of things clear.

I do not hate, any race, colour, or creed. 

     Over the past 80 years, I have known and worked and lived with Asians,(all) including Chinese, Jews, Mexicans  of every imaginable  bloodline,  Hispanics (from all over Latin America), even Cuba,   Blacks from the US and Africa and Arabs from all over the Middle East.   I have found comfort in over twenty nations and enjoyed the education such opportunity afforded me.

   I have always found ways to "Get along" or "Fit In" when needed.

I AM A NATIONALIST!!

    We are country of laws but, it seems we do not enforce a great number of them;  and we pass a lot of laws that don't need to be passed.

I am sick and tired of the "political correctness " that has taken over our country.  Firemen are NOT Fire Persons!! 

The top Sniper during WW II was a lady who happened to be a female.   She was called  "a Sniper"!!

If I say "nationalist" some people seem to think that I'm a racist;  I am not!!

I  believe our country is ours and NO ONE ELSE SHOULD TELL US WHAT DO!!

I DO NOT BELIEVE IN ONE WORLD Government, ONE WORLD Culture, or ONE WORLD Language, or ONE WORLD religion being forced upon the masses.

Ok, consuegro, I'm done.

Not edited  

J

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      This message above was forwarded to me by an exasperated relative.   The oddity is that he almost never…in all the years we have known one another…spoken in harsh and/or exasperated terms.   Very, very, very rarely.

    He asked me to do a bit of editing…perhaps he is going to frame his Credo Vivente under glass and place it on the wall.  He should, because in few words, he has described himself very, very well.

Posted with the permission of said relative.

El Gringo Viejo