The American-Mexican

INTERESTINGLY, TO ME at least, I have now spent more than a third of my adult life living in Mexico, and since I’ve additionally been a Mexican citizen for most of that time, since 2005, I can refer to myself as an American-Mexican.

Just as accurately, I could call myself a Mexican-American, but that implies that I’m a Latino citizen of the United States. Many Mexican-Americans hold only one citizenship, the one above the border where they were born.

They are Gringos in brownface, often with attitude.

I, on the other hand, am the real deal.

usa-mexico-flagsWell, maybe not because I feel about as Mexican as I feel French or Chinese, which is to say not even a little bit. This will never change due to two things. One, assimilation is very difficult. Two, I’m not an assimilating kind of fellow.

But it’s been an interesting ride, so to speak, and I cannot visualize it ever changing, that I would move back above the border. I have so few ties up there. No driver’s license, no bank account, no address, few relatives, pretty much nothing.

(I suspect the lack of a U.S. bank account means I will not get that cash handout the Blond Bomber is gifting you people. If someone wants to pass by 1200 Pennsylvania Avenue to pick up my share, that would be sweet. Then send it via PayPal.)

Just because I do not assimilate does not mean I cannot learn. I understand fairly well how Mexicans think as a whole. I didn’t when I arrived. Cultures are very different, and few are as different as the Gringo mindset and the Mexican mindset.

When I married into a Mexican family 18 years ago, a door opened very abruptly. While I often got the Octavio Paz (See right-hand column) response before I was a relative, I instantly got the honest response after the marriage. It was like black & white.

Even today, I marvel when I hear one of the kin say something to someone outside the family and then turn right around and say the polar opposite to another relative, me included. It’s like living in two realities.

No, really, if you can stop by the White House for my money, take 10% for your time.

The first yank

My trusty machine, red like the house.

THE RAINY SEASON arrived this week with a splash!

Three days ago I was enjoying a nice café Americano negro at a sidewalk table downtown when the skies opened with a vengeance.

In short order, the street vanished, and a lake took its place. Passing cars pushed waves onto the sidewalk, so I retreated closer to the wall with my chair and table.

The temperatures have dropped. The dust is washed into the gutters, down the drain pipes and into the lake.

And now my grass is greening. Soon it will need mowing and edging. Yesterday I pulled the mower from under a table on the Garden Patio and wiped it off with paper towels.

I poured fresh gas into the tank. I primed the carb (three times), and I yanked on the rope. Roar! The first yank!

Craftsman makes good stuff.

That leaves the weedeater, which I bought just last year, a Stihl, which is also a good item, but all weedeaters are a bitch to crank. The Stihl is just a little less so. But it has a rather complicated process you must observe to start it.

And being along in years, my arm is not what it once was. If the Stihl does not crank  quickly, I’m out of the game. I have not tried to start it yet. I am procrastinating.

Stihl weedeater, better than most.

While I let Abel the Deadpan Yardman mow the grass with the Craftsman, I am hesitant to put the Stihl in his mitts. The last time I let a local use a weedeater, it ended up in tatters.

Mexicans tend not to take care of things owned by other people. It’s a cultural trait and not one of their better ones. But I may be forced to hand it over to him.

Happy cacti.

After shooting the mower and Stihl, I photographed these cacti. I’m a cactus man. I planted them in Houston, but they never did squat.

Here, however, they’re right at home. I planted these cacti when they were small. The ones at the far end are  now taller than I am.

So summer and its accompanying rains are here. We love it when that happens after the stuffy, dry, dusty spring. But by soggy September we’ll be praying for an end to it.

Trashing Donald

donald
The remains.

IN THE WAKE of Donald Trump’s triumphant march to the White House, I wanted some memorabilia of the historic event — to remember that I was a player.

I went to eBay and bought a commemorative cup for 17 bucks, and had it shipped to Mexico for an additional 10. I intended to set the cup on my desk to hold pens and pencils. And I’d have Trump’s proud face before me while sitting here.

A combed-over desk companion.

The cup was surrounded with bubble wrap and boxed for its trip south. When I picked it up downtown here at the Estafeta office, it made an unsettling clinking sound.

When I opened the box and unwrapped the cup from its protective insulation, it was well-smashed.

There is no explanation aside from this: When the box was opened at the border at Mexican Customs, which is the custom, the agent broke it, probably with a hammer.

Then he rewrapped it and put it back into the box.

Don’t that beat all? Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Waffles & snowflakes

waffles

WE’RE A HEALTH-conscious couple, and we watch what we eat. It’s partly why we are so slim and beautiful.

Although we love waffles, we rarely eat them because they are not healthy. However, special occasions call for celebration, and we decided Wednesday morning to breakfast on waffles, a Trump fiesta with Canadian maple syrup.

However, just as my child bride was about to turn on the blender and waffle iron, the electricity went out, and it stayed out for an hour due to work in the street.

So we ate the usual cereal, but with a grin. At least I was grinning. My lovely companion still is uncertain about Trump, being Mexican and listening to Mexican news sources, which are just as left-wing as CNN and MSNBC.

There is no Mexican version of Fox or Breitbart.

However, she’s as conservative as I am, and she knows that I always know best, so she’s coming around, slowly.

Mexico has focused entirely on Trump’s border wall and his sometimes ill-phrased statements about Mexicans.

They know nothing about other U.S. issues like tax cuts, veterans’ matters,  federal debt, entitlements, BLM, Islamic terrorism, Mohammedan “refugees,” safe spaces,  PC lunacy, Common Core, joblessness and so on.

Alas, to Mexicans, it’s all about them and their God-given right to sneak across the border whenever they feel like it.

Our waffle extravaganza was delayed one day, but not canceled. We waffled our hearts out yesterday instead.

Like election night, it was very tasty.

* * * *

01_snowflake_1Left-wing snowflakes are in a state of hysteria and meltdown. Here are some hilarious examples:

  1. A guy named Jerry Kang, who is UCLA’s vice chancellor for “equity, diversity and inclusion,” held an event last night to process the shocking election results.
  2. At Cornell University, a “cry-in” was held on the Quad. “I’m quite terrified, honestly,” one snowflake opined.
  3. Thousands of poor losers blocked the entrance to Trump Tower in Chicago. They said they are against fascism, racism and war. Where this stuff is breaking out in the wake of the election is not clear.
  4. Snowflake high school students and teachers, about 1,500 of them,  staged a walkout Wednesday in California to protest Trump’s fair-and-square election victory. They’re just not gonna take it, you hear?
  5. In New York, thousands of leftists took to the streets howling obscenities about Trump’s victory, “rape culture,” racism and all that silly razzmatazz.

I remember the day following the shocking (to conservatives) re-election in 2012 of Weepy Barry.

We were gobsmacked!

But did we stage cry-ins? Did we block entrances to buildings? Did Republican ghetto-dwellers riot in the streets, as happened in Oakland after the Trump victory?

Of course not. We just hoped for a better day.

And here it is!