I have been working long hours the past few days hanging out with a group from Gannon University.
Groups are a huge blessing to me because they remind me how much I love the ministry that I work for and how much I believe in the things that we do.
Also: God is amazing. Lately I have been thinking a lot about the Gospel of Mark (thanks InterVarsity!) and the ways that miracles work. One of the things that has really struck me is the way that Jesus' miracles are so personal. I think that's great.
Other goings on around here:
Cold War Kids (www.myspace.com/coldwarkids) are really making this Lent thing difficult. Not to mention new The Arcade Fire. Oh geez.
The police chief of Agua Prieta was murdered outside of city hall two days ago. He was shot to death getting into his bullet-proof Jeep. The conventional wisdom is that he was in bed with the drug smugglers, but nobody should die like that.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
That's Unfortunate
In honor of the new Super Wal-Mart and Sam's Club Discount Warehouse being put up in Longmont:
Yeah, the picture is real.
I also just learned that Wal-Mart is the largest retailer in Mexico. The takeover continues.
Yeah, the picture is real.
I also just learned that Wal-Mart is the largest retailer in Mexico. The takeover continues.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Easily One of the Best Baby Pictures I Have Ever Seen
www.dotherightthing.com* posted a link to a really interesting Business Week article with Chipotle founder and CEO Steve Ells.It's a fascinating article for anyone who has found themselves frequenting Chipotle seven or eight times a week. Come to think of it, that would include many people who frequent this blog.
I'm really impressed with Ells and the business decisions that he is making.
Link to the article right here.
* www.dotherightthing.com is a really cool website that has user-generated updates on the business practices of companies. Their motto is "People Changing Business." I highly recommend checking it out.
p.s.- Chipotle definitely deserves its own blog tag.
Meet Your Neighbors: Agua Prieta Edition
Oscar Ruiz, along with his wife and niece, were attempting to migrate from the Mexican state of Puebla to the United States in order to look for work.
When they arrived in Agua Prieta, however, they were taken by their taxi driver to what they thought was a hotel. Inside the building they were detained against their will for what they think was between two and three weeks. After ten days they lost count.
While they were being detained they were robbed, fed very little, and never allowed to bathe or go outside. At the end of their stay they were taken to the desert, dropped off, and told which way to walk. Three days later they were picked up by Border Patrol.
On Monday I had the opportunity to meet Oscar and his family when they came in to the Migrant Resource Center after being deported. I couldn't help but be fascinated by the diverse reactions that they showed to experiencing so much trauma. Oscar's niece seemed very relieved to be safe and back in Mexico, but, or perhaps because of this, she would occasionally burst into tears. Oscar's wife had rolled her ankle in the desert and was clearly in pain, but never spoke a single word to anyone the entire time I was with her. Oscar himself seemed to be the most composed, but he was terrified of the taxi drivers and, understandably, wanted to avoid them at all costs.
Fortunately the Mexican consulate in Douglas has funds which are designated to help migrants, and we were able to buy them bus tickets back home to Puebla. Unfortunately the people who robbed them and held them captive are still here in Agua Prieta.
I love the migrants, but I hope I've never romanticized what they go through.
When they arrived in Agua Prieta, however, they were taken by their taxi driver to what they thought was a hotel. Inside the building they were detained against their will for what they think was between two and three weeks. After ten days they lost count.
While they were being detained they were robbed, fed very little, and never allowed to bathe or go outside. At the end of their stay they were taken to the desert, dropped off, and told which way to walk. Three days later they were picked up by Border Patrol.
On Monday I had the opportunity to meet Oscar and his family when they came in to the Migrant Resource Center after being deported. I couldn't help but be fascinated by the diverse reactions that they showed to experiencing so much trauma. Oscar's niece seemed very relieved to be safe and back in Mexico, but, or perhaps because of this, she would occasionally burst into tears. Oscar's wife had rolled her ankle in the desert and was clearly in pain, but never spoke a single word to anyone the entire time I was with her. Oscar himself seemed to be the most composed, but he was terrified of the taxi drivers and, understandably, wanted to avoid them at all costs.
Fortunately the Mexican consulate in Douglas has funds which are designated to help migrants, and we were able to buy them bus tickets back home to Puebla. Unfortunately the people who robbed them and held them captive are still here in Agua Prieta.
I love the migrants, but I hope I've never romanticized what they go through.
Oh Snap
David Kuo is going to be interviewing John Edwards for beliefnet and is asking for questions to be submitted over at his blog.
Apparently I am not the only who thinks he has some explaining to do about the resort he is calling his new family home.
I hope Kuo asks the question. I hope Edwards answers it. This has the potential to narrow my support down to one.
Apparently I am not the only who thinks he has some explaining to do about the resort he is calling his new family home.
I hope Kuo asks the question. I hope Edwards answers it. This has the potential to narrow my support down to one.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Is it a sin to covet an ash cross on someone's head?
Today is Ash Wednesday. I am sad to say that I will not make it to a service today. I really wanted my ashes.
Despite this tragic setback I did manage to celebrate the beginning of Lent with my very dear friend Julia who came to visit me today. We hung out in Agua Prieta and ate some delicious tacos, then headed up to Bisbee for a little ice cream cone action. It was great to see her, and makes me miss all of my Po-mo-na/Claremont College folks.
My second celebration of Lent starts today as well. I had been thinking long and hard about how I should celebrate Lent this year, and later what I should give up. In years past I have given up tv (no Simpsons was really difficult), meat (not as hard as I would have thought), and "sweets" (I like sweets). This year I decided to really test myself and give up music. Not listening to it, that would kill me. I have decided to give up buying it. I know that this is a good thing to give up because I REALLY don't want to do it. I mean, I don't even have the entire Iron and Wine collection. Can that really wait forty more days?! As a way to pursue love, because I don't really think that Lent should be about self-deprivation, but rather about faithful reflection and celebration, I am going to give away the money that I would have spent on music to something worthwhile. Don't ask me what, I haven't quite decided. I'll keep you posted though.
Despite this tragic setback I did manage to celebrate the beginning of Lent with my very dear friend Julia who came to visit me today. We hung out in Agua Prieta and ate some delicious tacos, then headed up to Bisbee for a little ice cream cone action. It was great to see her, and makes me miss all of my Po-mo-na/Claremont College folks.
My second celebration of Lent starts today as well. I had been thinking long and hard about how I should celebrate Lent this year, and later what I should give up. In years past I have given up tv (no Simpsons was really difficult), meat (not as hard as I would have thought), and "sweets" (I like sweets). This year I decided to really test myself and give up music. Not listening to it, that would kill me. I have decided to give up buying it. I know that this is a good thing to give up because I REALLY don't want to do it. I mean, I don't even have the entire Iron and Wine collection. Can that really wait forty more days?! As a way to pursue love, because I don't really think that Lent should be about self-deprivation, but rather about faithful reflection and celebration, I am going to give away the money that I would have spent on music to something worthwhile. Don't ask me what, I haven't quite decided. I'll keep you posted though.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Slate: Stalking Is the New Flirting.
From Slate: A photo series of flirting called "How You Doin'?" Sounds like it could be kind of fun, right?
Check it out here: http://todayspictures.slate.com/howyoudo/
Anything strike you as odd?
I can't be the only one who finds it odd that MOST of those pictures aren't even of flirting. That leaves me thinking that a) someone did a pretty poor job choosing the pictures, b) someone did a pretty poor job labeling the piece, or c) someone's idea of flirting is a room full of men staring at a model, or two men on the street gawking at the legs of a woman who doesn't even know that she's being watched.
See: This picture
It's really creepy to me that so many of these pictures aren't flirting at all, but rather men caught in the act of staring at women who are wearing somewhat revealing clothing.
Is that what passes for flirting at Slate? In America?
Check it out here: http://todayspictures.slate.com/howyoudo/
Anything strike you as odd?
I can't be the only one who finds it odd that MOST of those pictures aren't even of flirting. That leaves me thinking that a) someone did a pretty poor job choosing the pictures, b) someone did a pretty poor job labeling the piece, or c) someone's idea of flirting is a room full of men staring at a model, or two men on the street gawking at the legs of a woman who doesn't even know that she's being watched.
See: This picture
It's really creepy to me that so many of these pictures aren't flirting at all, but rather men caught in the act of staring at women who are wearing somewhat revealing clothing.
Is that what passes for flirting at Slate? In America?
I Must Read This Book.
Oh yes, this looks really good.Salon has just posted a short excerpt from a new memoir called Take This Bread: A Radical Conversion, by author Sara Miles.
It is, from the description given, a memoir about Miles' unexpected conversion to Christianity, her view of the church as she came stumbled in from the outside, and the unexpected paths she found herself walking as she adjusted to a life of faith.
It sounds like a really great book, a camp onion of sorts to the great faith tapestries woven by fellow Bay area resident Anne Lamott.
It's not surprising to me that my favorite works of faith, whether they be music, literature, art, social action...whatever really, are often made by people who are, or who think of themselves as being, outsiders.
Derek Webb, C.S. Lewis, Dustin Kensrue, Oscar Romero, Anne Lamott, and Martin Luther King all come to mind immediately, although the list could just keep going, couldn't it.
It's refreshing to get a look at Jesus (and at his bride) from someone who loves him, but is unfamiliar with the strange ways of his people. At the same time, it is also refreshing that a treatment of Christianity done by a metropolitan progressive could be so nuanced and based out of love.
I'm excited to get my hands on this. Anyone else?
Link to the excerpt: http://www.salon.com/mwt/feature/2007/02/17/take_this_bread/index.html
(sorry, links are still inconsistent for me at best. Can't figure this one out)
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Iran Is In for Spring
Here it is, part two in my continuing series on the 2008 presedential cantidates.
John Edwards (Democratic Party)
John Edwards, former Senator from North Carolina, first entered my political radar during my sophomore year at Pomona College. At that time the race for the Democratic nomination was still wide open, with Howard Dean's internet campaign just starting to receive a lot of mainstream press, and no candidates really receiving an overwhelming amount of favorable attention from the Democratic leadership.
I was introduced to Edwards by a friend at Pomona who had been asked to help run his campaign in California. From very early on he was an extremely attractive candidate (and not just because he looks like a Land's End model). Unlike John Kerry, Edwards had decided not to seek reelection to the Senate, choosing instead to pursue the presidency without distraction or a backup plan. Edwards was also at the forefront of positive Democratic thinking in the 2004 election. Rather than attacking Bush, a technique favored by Vermont's Governor Dean, or wooing traditional Democratic strongholds like labor, the technique favored by Rep. Dick Gephardt, Edwards sought to push the Democratic party back into a conversation about its ideals and its platform. And he, long before it was the cool thing for Democrats to do, spoke about the role that faith played in his life and in his policies.
Policies that were, and still are, tremendously attractive. He was advocating for universal health care, alleviating poverty, and balancing the budget, and he wanted to do them all at the same time. I know, I wish he'd won too.
Because of his connection to my friend, Edwards ended up coming to Pomona that year and giving a speech in the student center. It was an inspiring talk about poverty in America, and it cemented my support for him in the 2004 election. My faith in Edwards (along with my disdain for Cheney/Bush) was a major reason I was still excited to support Kerry after the convention, even though he himself was, in almost everyone's view, a less than ideal candidate.
And Edwards has continued to impress me. After his loss in the 2004 election he began to travel around the world in an attempt to repair the U.S.' broken image. He also started, and has continued to direct, a public policy think tank focusing on domestic poverty.
Finally, John's devotion to his wife, and his role as a public, pro-feminist husband, has been a breath of fresh air in this political climate. During Elizabeth Edward's very public battle with breast cancer he was a seemingly constant presence. Here's a segment of the official CNN transcript from an interview that John and Elizabeth did on the "Larry King Live" show where Larry asks John if he is worried that his wife might be less attractive because of her cancer treatment:
Edwards gives a great, and really supportive, response to what is a characteristically sleazy question from Larry King.
There was also their joint interview on MSNBC's "Hardball With Chris Matthews" where Matthews came after Elizabeth Edwards and accused them of having an equal marriage. The horror! Here's that segment:
Both John and Elizabeth looked stunned. Equal marriage: 1 MSNBC: 0
So Edwards and I have a lot of good history. As a result, it may surprise you to learn that I'm sort of undecided about supporting him right now. Why? Well, in spite of all that Edwards has to offer (and I still think it is a lot), I believe that there is a fundamental disconnect between the words coming out of his mouth and the money going in and out of his pocket. In my view Edwards is, as they say, a limousine liberal. He's a former trial lawyer that has done very, very well for himself. And he's enjoying that in some very lavish ways.
Newsweek just printed a picture of the new Edwards family compound in North Carolina (yes, compound), which includes a 28,000 (give or take) square foot home. Not including guest house. And that unsettles me. That doesn't speak very well of his understanding of poverty. That doesn't speak very well of his understanding of environmental concerns. To me, all that says is that John Edwards, as he so often talked about in 2004, believes in the existence of two Americas. And he believes in the one where the fantastically wealthy live surreal lives.
That just so happens to be an America that most people will never live in. So why vote for it? I'm certainly not naive. I know that to run for president you need to have more than a few dead ones earning 15% in the market. But that house is just excessive, and, dare I say, hypocritical. I don't like that at all.
John Edwards (Democratic Party)
John Edwards, former Senator from North Carolina, first entered my political radar during my sophomore year at Pomona College. At that time the race for the Democratic nomination was still wide open, with Howard Dean's internet campaign just starting to receive a lot of mainstream press, and no candidates really receiving an overwhelming amount of favorable attention from the Democratic leadership.I was introduced to Edwards by a friend at Pomona who had been asked to help run his campaign in California. From very early on he was an extremely attractive candidate (and not just because he looks like a Land's End model). Unlike John Kerry, Edwards had decided not to seek reelection to the Senate, choosing instead to pursue the presidency without distraction or a backup plan. Edwards was also at the forefront of positive Democratic thinking in the 2004 election. Rather than attacking Bush, a technique favored by Vermont's Governor Dean, or wooing traditional Democratic strongholds like labor, the technique favored by Rep. Dick Gephardt, Edwards sought to push the Democratic party back into a conversation about its ideals and its platform. And he, long before it was the cool thing for Democrats to do, spoke about the role that faith played in his life and in his policies.
Policies that were, and still are, tremendously attractive. He was advocating for universal health care, alleviating poverty, and balancing the budget, and he wanted to do them all at the same time. I know, I wish he'd won too.
Because of his connection to my friend, Edwards ended up coming to Pomona that year and giving a speech in the student center. It was an inspiring talk about poverty in America, and it cemented my support for him in the 2004 election. My faith in Edwards (along with my disdain for Cheney/Bush) was a major reason I was still excited to support Kerry after the convention, even though he himself was, in almost everyone's view, a less than ideal candidate.
And Edwards has continued to impress me. After his loss in the 2004 election he began to travel around the world in an attempt to repair the U.S.' broken image. He also started, and has continued to direct, a public policy think tank focusing on domestic poverty.
Finally, John's devotion to his wife, and his role as a public, pro-feminist husband, has been a breath of fresh air in this political climate. During Elizabeth Edward's very public battle with breast cancer he was a seemingly constant presence. Here's a segment of the official CNN transcript from an interview that John and Elizabeth did on the "Larry King Live" show where Larry asks John if he is worried that his wife might be less attractive because of her cancer treatment:
KING: Senator, has there been any thoughts, and this happens in any case when the male hears the news from the mate, aesthetically how will Elizabeth look?
How will she respond?
Do you have those feelings?
J. EDWARDS: No. No.
KING: No?
J. EDWARDS: Honest to goodness, Larry, the only thing I have thought about is making sure that we have 40 more years together. And Elizabeth and I have been married 27 years. We are physically connected to each other. And we've been through a lot with our children and with our family and our lives. And our lives are completely intertwined. And all that I have thought about is making sure we get her well and that she is there for me and for my kids.
Edwards gives a great, and really supportive, response to what is a characteristically sleazy question from Larry King.
There was also their joint interview on MSNBC's "Hardball With Chris Matthews" where Matthews came after Elizabeth Edwards and accused them of having an equal marriage. The horror! Here's that segment:
E. EDWARDS: There are not that many politicians who are actually very good at jokes. John spoke one time and I said I wouldn‘t even go because it was—he was supposed to be funny and I didn‘t think he could carry it off.
CROWD: (LAUGHTER)
MATTHEWS: I love it. You‘re great. Behind every great man, there‘s a woman trying to kill him.
CROWD: (LAUGHTER)
E. EDWARDS: He has great characteristics.
MATTHEWS: What is it? Does she do this? Does she bust your balls like this when you come home? When you get (INAUDIBLE), does she do that?
CROWD: (APPLAUSE)
E. EDWARDS: My children are watching this.
CROWD: (LAUGHTER)
MATTHEWS: What‘s this with the equal marriages? Why do people marry their equals? It used to be different? What happened to the Stepford wives, the good old days? What happened?
Both John and Elizabeth looked stunned. Equal marriage: 1 MSNBC: 0
So Edwards and I have a lot of good history. As a result, it may surprise you to learn that I'm sort of undecided about supporting him right now. Why? Well, in spite of all that Edwards has to offer (and I still think it is a lot), I believe that there is a fundamental disconnect between the words coming out of his mouth and the money going in and out of his pocket. In my view Edwards is, as they say, a limousine liberal. He's a former trial lawyer that has done very, very well for himself. And he's enjoying that in some very lavish ways.
Newsweek just printed a picture of the new Edwards family compound in North Carolina (yes, compound), which includes a 28,000 (give or take) square foot home. Not including guest house. And that unsettles me. That doesn't speak very well of his understanding of poverty. That doesn't speak very well of his understanding of environmental concerns. To me, all that says is that John Edwards, as he so often talked about in 2004, believes in the existence of two Americas. And he believes in the one where the fantastically wealthy live surreal lives.
That just so happens to be an America that most people will never live in. So why vote for it? I'm certainly not naive. I know that to run for president you need to have more than a few dead ones earning 15% in the market. But that house is just excessive, and, dare I say, hypocritical. I don't like that at all.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Album Review: Dustin Kensrue- Please Come Home
I just finished writing a ten paragraph review for this album, and somehow in the process of publishing it almost the entire thing got erased.
Instead of rewriting it, which I know I could never do, here's a video of him performing "Pistol," one of my favorite songs from the album, on Jay Leno.
By the way, I gave the album a 9.1/10 and said that it would undoubtedly make my top ten of 2007 list.
Instead of rewriting it, which I know I could never do, here's a video of him performing "Pistol," one of my favorite songs from the album, on Jay Leno.
By the way, I gave the album a 9.1/10 and said that it would undoubtedly make my top ten of 2007 list.
2008 it is (impeachment is probably too much to hope for)
Once again Bryce has come up with a great idea. Once again I am going to steal it. Before you read another word, head over to his blog to see his thoughts about some of the big names in the 2008 race.
Now that you're back, let me say that I really like the idea of expressing my thoughts about the candidates this early in the race. I am even more excited about the prospect of looking back in two years (or six, or ten) and reflecting on what my impressions were when the race was just starting. Unlike Bryce, I am going to devote one full post to each candidate in order to really flesh out my thoughts. This is going to be a massive project, so it will probably take me a while, but I am determined to see it to fruition.
All horses to the starting gate.
John McCain (The Grand Ole Party)
If I had to pick a time when I first became disenchanted with the modern political machine (and by that I mean the combination of a cynical government and a compliant press), I would undoubtedly choose the 2000 Presidential primary in South Carolina. I was a big fan of John McCain back then. After the years of pettiness that ended the once promising Clinton era, McCain seemed like a breath of fresh air. While I was undoubtedly pulling for Gore, I was still excited about the prospect of a general election race against McCain because I saw it as a no lose situation for the American people.
Bush, clearly the favorite son of the GOP establishment (no pun intended), had been unexpectedly trounced by McCain in New Hampshire, and was losing ground nationally as well. Until South Carolina. In South Carolina, McCain had the decency to oppose the use of the Confederate flag as a part of the official state flag. He had the decency to call out George W. for visiting Bob Jones University, a school that, at the time, did not allow interracial dating. The more time that McCain spent in South Carolina, the more I liked him.
He was doing so well in South Carolina, and the chosen son so poorly, that the decision was made by the Bush team and the GOP that McCain needed to be taken out of the race. And he was. Somehow Bush, aided by the GOP talking heads, was able to accuse McCain, a Vietnam veteran and prisoner of war who had been tortured, of being soft on defense. This is a man who, while still living and still in government, had a naval vessel named after him. Yes, there really is a USS John McCain. Unbelievably, this ridiculous claim stuck. Bush went on to win, decisively, in South Carolina, and was given the GOP nomination at the convention a few months later. We all know how that story turns out.
I can't tell you how devastated I was by what happened in South Carolina. Even as a student of history, the ridiculous claims of the Bush camp, and their shameless coverage by the press, struck me as particularly heinous. At the time I remember thinking "but all of this is just so patently false." In retrospect, those were the good old days. But why bring up all of this history anyway? Isn't this about McCain '08? Well, I bring it up because I think it is important to show just how much of my esteem John McCain has lost.
McCain used to be a man that voters could depend on to speak truth to power, even in the midst of it. Those days are long, long gone. It's sad that so many pundits now use his "Straight Shooter" nickname, and reputation, ironically. Sad, but not uncalled for. Where does one even start? How about his relative silence on immigration while serving as the Senator of a state where it long ago passed into the realm of crisis? Of course there is his very public courting of key figures in the religious right, including Jerry Falwell, a man he once called "an agent of intolerance." Worst of all, perhaps, is McCain's compromise with the Bush administration on torture. Other than campaign finance reform and Senate ethics reform, both of which were badly botched, I cannot name a single thing that McCain has done in the last six years that I like. Come to think of it, I don't have much more of anything to say about this candidate at all. The hope I once found in John McCain has been replaced by little more than regrets about what could have been.
But none of this really matters because, sadly, I am no longer John McCain's target voter. He is clearly looking to rally what Andrew Sullivan calls the "Christianist" base, while hoping that his maverick reputation will still resonate with the independents and libertarians that have supported him for so long. My call: no one is buying it. McCain's base has already largely abandoned him, disgusted by the behavior that I have just listed. And the GOP base? Forget about it. They trust McCain less than they trust Lieberman, and he still caucuses with the Democrats. This is a party that prizes loyalty above all else. Remember Reagan's "Eleventh Commandment," never speak ill of a fellow Republican? Not even his continued support of Bush's surge (cough, escalation) will wash the bad taste out of their mouths.
The only real things that McCain's got going for him at this point are name recognition and his reputation as a war hero. Even if the voters in the general election would pull for him, they will probably never get the chance to decide. Unless the GOP gets REALLY desperate, he will never make it past the primaries. McCain's only hope is that everyone else in the race looks worse than he does. Fortunately for him, his major competitors at this point are Giuliani and Romney. Actually, McCain '08 is starting to look pretty plausible after all.
Now that you're back, let me say that I really like the idea of expressing my thoughts about the candidates this early in the race. I am even more excited about the prospect of looking back in two years (or six, or ten) and reflecting on what my impressions were when the race was just starting. Unlike Bryce, I am going to devote one full post to each candidate in order to really flesh out my thoughts. This is going to be a massive project, so it will probably take me a while, but I am determined to see it to fruition.
All horses to the starting gate.
John McCain (The Grand Ole Party)
If I had to pick a time when I first became disenchanted with the modern political machine (and by that I mean the combination of a cynical government and a compliant press), I would undoubtedly choose the 2000 Presidential primary in South Carolina. I was a big fan of John McCain back then. After the years of pettiness that ended the once promising Clinton era, McCain seemed like a breath of fresh air. While I was undoubtedly pulling for Gore, I was still excited about the prospect of a general election race against McCain because I saw it as a no lose situation for the American people.
Bush, clearly the favorite son of the GOP establishment (no pun intended), had been unexpectedly trounced by McCain in New Hampshire, and was losing ground nationally as well. Until South Carolina. In South Carolina, McCain had the decency to oppose the use of the Confederate flag as a part of the official state flag. He had the decency to call out George W. for visiting Bob Jones University, a school that, at the time, did not allow interracial dating. The more time that McCain spent in South Carolina, the more I liked him.
He was doing so well in South Carolina, and the chosen son so poorly, that the decision was made by the Bush team and the GOP that McCain needed to be taken out of the race. And he was. Somehow Bush, aided by the GOP talking heads, was able to accuse McCain, a Vietnam veteran and prisoner of war who had been tortured, of being soft on defense. This is a man who, while still living and still in government, had a naval vessel named after him. Yes, there really is a USS John McCain. Unbelievably, this ridiculous claim stuck. Bush went on to win, decisively, in South Carolina, and was given the GOP nomination at the convention a few months later. We all know how that story turns out.
I can't tell you how devastated I was by what happened in South Carolina. Even as a student of history, the ridiculous claims of the Bush camp, and their shameless coverage by the press, struck me as particularly heinous. At the time I remember thinking "but all of this is just so patently false." In retrospect, those were the good old days. But why bring up all of this history anyway? Isn't this about McCain '08? Well, I bring it up because I think it is important to show just how much of my esteem John McCain has lost.
McCain used to be a man that voters could depend on to speak truth to power, even in the midst of it. Those days are long, long gone. It's sad that so many pundits now use his "Straight Shooter" nickname, and reputation, ironically. Sad, but not uncalled for. Where does one even start? How about his relative silence on immigration while serving as the Senator of a state where it long ago passed into the realm of crisis? Of course there is his very public courting of key figures in the religious right, including Jerry Falwell, a man he once called "an agent of intolerance." Worst of all, perhaps, is McCain's compromise with the Bush administration on torture. Other than campaign finance reform and Senate ethics reform, both of which were badly botched, I cannot name a single thing that McCain has done in the last six years that I like. Come to think of it, I don't have much more of anything to say about this candidate at all. The hope I once found in John McCain has been replaced by little more than regrets about what could have been.
But none of this really matters because, sadly, I am no longer John McCain's target voter. He is clearly looking to rally what Andrew Sullivan calls the "Christianist" base, while hoping that his maverick reputation will still resonate with the independents and libertarians that have supported him for so long. My call: no one is buying it. McCain's base has already largely abandoned him, disgusted by the behavior that I have just listed. And the GOP base? Forget about it. They trust McCain less than they trust Lieberman, and he still caucuses with the Democrats. This is a party that prizes loyalty above all else. Remember Reagan's "Eleventh Commandment," never speak ill of a fellow Republican? Not even his continued support of Bush's surge (cough, escalation) will wash the bad taste out of their mouths.
The only real things that McCain's got going for him at this point are name recognition and his reputation as a war hero. Even if the voters in the general election would pull for him, they will probably never get the chance to decide. Unless the GOP gets REALLY desperate, he will never make it past the primaries. McCain's only hope is that everyone else in the race looks worse than he does. Fortunately for him, his major competitors at this point are Giuliani and Romney. Actually, McCain '08 is starting to look pretty plausible after all.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
"Some of those that work forces, are the same that burn crosses..."
Three pieces of border news and a comment on the Border Patrol.
With an already bad situation in Iraq steadily deteriorating, I can't imagine the border gets all that much news coverage elsewhere. That's just a guess. To gauge this, I want to know if anyone who reads this blog heard that a Border Patrol agent shot to death a 22 year old Mexican migrant from the state of Puebla about three weeks ago.
It happened about 8 miles from where I am sitting, out near where we leave the water in the desert. Like all Border Patrol shootings, the details surrounding the "incident" have not been released.
In other border deaths news, another body was found in the desert last week by the family of a missing migrant. When he didn't show up or call, the family called the Border Patrol to advise them that he was missing. Eventually the family came from Florida and California to search for him. I'm glad that they found him, but sad that he had already died from "exposure."
And finally, in honor of Rage Against the Machine reuniting, here's a sad story of a racist wearing a badge. Two very close friends from Agua Prieta were visiting another very close friend in Tucson this weekend. On their way back to the border they decided to visit a state park and hike around the lake. As they were leaving the park they were stopped by Border Patrol and asked for their papers. They supplied their tourist visas (which they have had for a number of years) and were told by the agent that these papers were for "shopping at Wal-Mart and then going back to Mexico." He then called them a derogatory term for Mexican migrants, told them that he wasn't stupid, and accused them of being smugglers and "helping (expletive) migrants." I'm told that they were lucky as the agent could have seized their Visas without a guarantee that they would be returned.
I am aware that this post is pretty harsh on the Border Patrol. In many ways I regret that. I appreciate the work that the Border Patrol does in fighting drug smuggling, something I have no love for. I also appreciate the lives that they have saved by finding lost, sick, or injured migrants in the desert. The fact is that I have a number of friends down here who are agents, one very good friend in fact. I think they are good men. I wish more agents were like them.
With an already bad situation in Iraq steadily deteriorating, I can't imagine the border gets all that much news coverage elsewhere. That's just a guess. To gauge this, I want to know if anyone who reads this blog heard that a Border Patrol agent shot to death a 22 year old Mexican migrant from the state of Puebla about three weeks ago.
It happened about 8 miles from where I am sitting, out near where we leave the water in the desert. Like all Border Patrol shootings, the details surrounding the "incident" have not been released.
In other border deaths news, another body was found in the desert last week by the family of a missing migrant. When he didn't show up or call, the family called the Border Patrol to advise them that he was missing. Eventually the family came from Florida and California to search for him. I'm glad that they found him, but sad that he had already died from "exposure."
And finally, in honor of Rage Against the Machine reuniting, here's a sad story of a racist wearing a badge. Two very close friends from Agua Prieta were visiting another very close friend in Tucson this weekend. On their way back to the border they decided to visit a state park and hike around the lake. As they were leaving the park they were stopped by Border Patrol and asked for their papers. They supplied their tourist visas (which they have had for a number of years) and were told by the agent that these papers were for "shopping at Wal-Mart and then going back to Mexico." He then called them a derogatory term for Mexican migrants, told them that he wasn't stupid, and accused them of being smugglers and "helping (expletive) migrants." I'm told that they were lucky as the agent could have seized their Visas without a guarantee that they would be returned.
I am aware that this post is pretty harsh on the Border Patrol. In many ways I regret that. I appreciate the work that the Border Patrol does in fighting drug smuggling, something I have no love for. I also appreciate the lives that they have saved by finding lost, sick, or injured migrants in the desert. The fact is that I have a number of friends down here who are agents, one very good friend in fact. I think they are good men. I wish more agents were like them.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
That's A Nice Reminder
So I've been going a little bit crazy lately. I feel like my work is all out of sorts and I have been spending A LOT of annoying time on the phone with tech support companies.
I still feel that way, but stopping to play this game helped my perspective quite a bit.
Sim Sweatshop. Check it out. www.simsweatshop.com (link's aren't working for me again. My main problem with blooger.)
I still feel that way, but stopping to play this game helped my perspective quite a bit.
Sim Sweatshop. Check it out. www.simsweatshop.com (link's aren't working for me again. My main problem with blooger.)
Friday, February 02, 2007
Friday Puppy Blogging Part Two
So, as some of you now know, Meghan and I have been in the business of puppy ranching these last few weeks.
It started when Kyle and Erik came down to visit me here in AP.
One morning we were walking down our street on the way to get breakfast, when Meghan noticed a little puppy running around an abandoned lot two doors down. We went over to check it out and were greeted by four more tiny puppies living under some trash.
Erik told Kyle that he should take one back with him, which is why the infamous illegal immigrant puppy Sonora is now living happily in Ft. Collins.
Sonora in Kyle's pocket
The weather took a turn for the worse after Kyle and Erik left with Sonora, and Meghan and I were worried that the other four puppies might die. Sadly, the smallest one did die, and so we decided to bring the rest of them into our apartment and look for permanent homes.
And here are the little buggers. They only have nicknames because we didn't want to become too attached.
This is the little girl. She's secretly my favorite.
This is "Sola." She is easily one of the strangest looking dogs that I have ever seen. One eye is bigger than the other, and it also has a black ring around it. She sort of looks like a cross between a goat, a cow, and a polar bear.
And that's the little bear. He used to be a lover, now he's more of a biter.
Adorable.
We have found homes for two of them, and they will be leaving us tomorrow. I'll miss the cuddling. I won't miss the poop.
It started when Kyle and Erik came down to visit me here in AP.
One morning we were walking down our street on the way to get breakfast, when Meghan noticed a little puppy running around an abandoned lot two doors down. We went over to check it out and were greeted by four more tiny puppies living under some trash.
Erik told Kyle that he should take one back with him, which is why the infamous illegal immigrant puppy Sonora is now living happily in Ft. Collins.
Sonora in Kyle's pocket
The weather took a turn for the worse after Kyle and Erik left with Sonora, and Meghan and I were worried that the other four puppies might die. Sadly, the smallest one did die, and so we decided to bring the rest of them into our apartment and look for permanent homes.
And here are the little buggers. They only have nicknames because we didn't want to become too attached.
This is the little girl. She's secretly my favorite.
This is "Sola." She is easily one of the strangest looking dogs that I have ever seen. One eye is bigger than the other, and it also has a black ring around it. She sort of looks like a cross between a goat, a cow, and a polar bear.
And that's the little bear. He used to be a lover, now he's more of a biter.
Adorable.
We have found homes for two of them, and they will be leaving us tomorrow. I'll miss the cuddling. I won't miss the poop.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Meet Your Neighbors: Trains Now Scare Me Edition
Here's another edition of Meet Your Neighbors for all you cool kids living out in Los Angeles.
It is my great privilege to introduce you to a find young man named Junior. That's his nickname, so I'm pretty comfortable sharing it with you all.
I have been privileged to encounter some pretty exceptional people working down here, but Junior might get my vote for the most incredible person that I have met in the last six months. Why? Oh let me count the ways. For a start, Junior is from Honduras. If you've read the article from my last post, you'll have some idea why I am so impressed with migrants from anywhere south of Mexico. Junior is also traveling alone, quite a feat for anyone, but more so for someone not from Mexico. Not only is he traveling alone, unlike most migrants he has no one waiting for him in Los Angeles (family, friends, etc.), just the desire to look for work and send money back to his mother and siblings. This means that he has no support system at all. No one to send him money if/when he runs out or gets robbed (when I met him he had $19 and change. I gave him everything in my wallet, which was sadly only ten more). Junior also managed to first avoid, and later fool, both Mexican and U.S. immigration officials into thinking that he was not in fact from Honduras. Not an easy task. Finally, Junior rode the train all the way from Guatemala to Phoenix (where he was caught and deported). Again, an incredibly difficult, scary, and dangerous thing to do, especially alone.
All that, and he's really just an incredibly nice kid.
To be fair, in the immigration "game"* that takes place here on the border, there is no doubt that Central Americans are the underdogs. Everyone is gunning for them. Mexican migration wants to deport them. American migration wants to find them and ship them home as well. They take special pride in weeding them out and being able to differentiate them from Mexicans. Central Americans are also more likely to be assaulted, left for dead in the desert, cheated out of their money, and beaten up. The migration machine is mostly run by Mexicans, who I am sad to say often abuse one another. This is multiplied exponentially for someone coming from outside of Mexico.
It was tough watching Junior walk out the door. I like the kid, I wish he was sticking around. I also know that he was/is getting back on a train to cross into the U.S. I really don't want to read about him in the paper after he loses a leg, or possibly his life. And I know the meat grinder that is Los Angeles, and the exploitation that awaits him there.
*I say game not becuase I think that immigration as it now exists if fun, but because so many of the people that I know down here think of it that way. If a migrant gets caught by Border Patrol, they get returned to their country of origin, and get to try again. It makes the whole thing feel like a massive game of capture the flag. The problem is, if you lose you can die. And people lose a lot.
It is my great privilege to introduce you to a find young man named Junior. That's his nickname, so I'm pretty comfortable sharing it with you all.
I have been privileged to encounter some pretty exceptional people working down here, but Junior might get my vote for the most incredible person that I have met in the last six months. Why? Oh let me count the ways. For a start, Junior is from Honduras. If you've read the article from my last post, you'll have some idea why I am so impressed with migrants from anywhere south of Mexico. Junior is also traveling alone, quite a feat for anyone, but more so for someone not from Mexico. Not only is he traveling alone, unlike most migrants he has no one waiting for him in Los Angeles (family, friends, etc.), just the desire to look for work and send money back to his mother and siblings. This means that he has no support system at all. No one to send him money if/when he runs out or gets robbed (when I met him he had $19 and change. I gave him everything in my wallet, which was sadly only ten more). Junior also managed to first avoid, and later fool, both Mexican and U.S. immigration officials into thinking that he was not in fact from Honduras. Not an easy task. Finally, Junior rode the train all the way from Guatemala to Phoenix (where he was caught and deported). Again, an incredibly difficult, scary, and dangerous thing to do, especially alone.
All that, and he's really just an incredibly nice kid.
To be fair, in the immigration "game"* that takes place here on the border, there is no doubt that Central Americans are the underdogs. Everyone is gunning for them. Mexican migration wants to deport them. American migration wants to find them and ship them home as well. They take special pride in weeding them out and being able to differentiate them from Mexicans. Central Americans are also more likely to be assaulted, left for dead in the desert, cheated out of their money, and beaten up. The migration machine is mostly run by Mexicans, who I am sad to say often abuse one another. This is multiplied exponentially for someone coming from outside of Mexico.
It was tough watching Junior walk out the door. I like the kid, I wish he was sticking around. I also know that he was/is getting back on a train to cross into the U.S. I really don't want to read about him in the paper after he loses a leg, or possibly his life. And I know the meat grinder that is Los Angeles, and the exploitation that awaits him there.
*I say game not becuase I think that immigration as it now exists if fun, but because so many of the people that I know down here think of it that way. If a migrant gets caught by Border Patrol, they get returned to their country of origin, and get to try again. It makes the whole thing feel like a massive game of capture the flag. The problem is, if you lose you can die. And people lose a lot.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
A Must Read on the Border
From the New York Times comes an essential read for anyone who wants to understand the border, and just how far it now extends.
Tapachula, where this report was researched, is the city just down the mountain from Salvador Urbina. It's where I spent my day at the market and bought my firewords. El Buen Pastor (Jesus the Good Pastor) is the house where Luis, the Guatemalan man that went with us to Chiapas, stayed at after he lost his legs under the train.
Follow up post coming from me with some thoughts on the article and the issues it raises.
TAPACHULA, Mexico
Adriana Zehbrauskas for The New York Times
Donar Antonio RamÃrez Espinas lost both his legs during his attempt to cross into the United States. “You make the decision to look for a better life,” he said, “without knowing that you could end up like this.”
They had been in Mexico for only a few hours and already federal police officers had forced them to strip and had taken almost all their cash, they said. They had some 1,500 miles to go to reach the United States border, with no food or water and $9 each.
They intended to walk along the Chiapas coast for the first 250 miles through a dozen towns where migrants are regularly robbed or raped. Then they planned to clamber aboard a freight train with hundreds of other immigrants for the trip north, a dangerous journey that has left hundreds before them maimed after they fell under the wheels.
“It’s dangerous, yes, one risks one’s life,” said one of the men, Noé Hernández. “One risks it if you have a family member in the States to help you. It’s not just for fun we go through Mexico.”
A month ago, Mexico’s new president, Felipe Calderón, announced measures to slow the flow of illegal immigrants across Mexico’s southern border and reduce crime in this lush but impoverished region. He stepped up the presence of soldiers and federal police here, told of plans for a guest worker program and promised joint state and federal operations to catch illegal immigrants.
But much remains to be done to stop or deter the migrants, and for now the measures have had little effect. Social workers and volunteers who aid the migrants say they keep coming.
Every three days, 300 to 500 Central Americans swarm the freight train in Arriaga, strapping themselves with ropes or belts to the tops of cars or riding between the wagons, they say.
The migrants still wade across the Suchiate River between Guatemala and Mexico with little hindrance. Corruption is rampant. Soldiers and police officers on the Mexican side extort money from the migrants but seldom turn them around, aid workers and migrants said.
“It’s an open border,” said Francisco Aceves Verdugo, a supervisor in the government agency, Grupos Beta, that gives food, water and medicine to illegal migrants. “We are confronting a monster so big in the form of corruption that we aren’t doing anything.”
The federal authorities do catch and deport illegal immigrants from Central America on their trek north — about 170,000 last year, according to Leticia RodrÃguez, a spokeswoman for the National Migration Institute.
On the evening of Jan. 19, as part of Mr. Calderón’s new get-tough policy, about 400 federal police officers stopped the freight train just after it left Arriaga and arrested more than 100 immigrants who had climbed aboard.
Still, aid workers say a majority gets through. The biggest deterrent, migrants say, is not federal authorities but armed thugs who waylay them along the railroad tracks or on paths through the countryside used to avoid the immigration posts along the main highway.
This month, Misael MejÃa, 27, from Comayagua, Honduras, was awaiting the train in Arriaga with nine other young men from his town. They had walked for 11 days after wading across the Suchiate to get to the railhead in Arriaga.
None of them had a dime after being ambushed a week before by three men in ski masks in daylight near Huehuetán. Two of the men carried machetes, the third a machine gun.
“They told us to lay down and take off our clothes,” Mr. MejÃa said. “I lost my watch, about 500 Honduran lempiras, and 40 Mexican pesos,” about $31.
Mr. MejÃa said he would press on. He has a brother in Arizona who has promised to pick him up if he can run the gantlet through the United States border patrol. He left a $200-a-month job as a driver behind, along with his wife. His brother makes $700 a week as a carpenter.
“I felt hopeless in Honduras,” he said. “Because I could never afford a house, not even a car. There is nothing I could have.”
Down the street from the tracks, at the Hearth of Mercy shelter, where illegal immigrants can get a free hot meal and medicine, Juan Antonio Cruz, 16, hunched over a bowl of rice and told how he had left El Salvador after members of the Mara Salvatrucha street gang had threatened to kill him. “They wanted me to join them,” he said.
It was his second attempt to reach Arizona, he said. The first time he had endured eight freezing nights and sweltering days aboard the train by strapping his belt to bar atop a tanker car. The border patrol caught him as he crossed into Nogales, Ariz., and sent him back home to Usulután, where the gang members threatened him again.
“When I think about the train, I feel fear and panic, for the thieves who attack you, and also for falling off,” he said softly.
For some, that is how the dream ends, with a fall under the train’s heavy, whirring wheels.
At the Shelter of Jesus the Good Pastor in Tapachula, Donar Antonio RamÃrez Espinas rubbed the bandaged stumps of his legs, sheared off above the knee, as he recalled the night of March 26, 2004, when he dozed off while riding between cars, lost his grip and fell onto the tracks.
“I fell face down, and at first I didn’t think anything had happened,” he said. “When I turned over, I saw, I realized, that my feet didn’t really exist.”
Back in Honduras, he had been working menial jobs in a parking lot and at a medical warehouse, making about $120 a month. Then he and a few buddies decided to try their luck in the States.
“You make the decision to look for a better life, not to continue with the life your father led, and for this you risk your life, without knowing that you could end up like this,” he said. “An amputee.”
After the accident, he spent two years at the shelter in Tapachula, wrestling with depression and thoughts of suicide. When those black days finally passed, he returned home for five months, only to find his parents, his former wife and even his three children had trouble accepting his disability. “My 9-year-old said, ‘Papa, why did you come back like this?’ ” he remembered. “I didn’t dare answer him.”
Mr. RamÃrez has returned to the shelter here, where he hopes to learn a trade — fashioning prosthetic legs and arms for other victims of the train. Others at the shelter told similar stories. Some doubted they would be able to make a living in their home countries, where even getting a wheelchair is hard.
But some of those with lesser injuries insisted their accident was just a temporary setback. Minor Estuardo Cortez, 33, from Guatemala, lost his left foot under a train wheel while climbing aboard in Oaxaca State. At the shelter, he has healed and learned to walk with a prosthetic foot. He intends to continue his journey. If he reaches Houston, he says, he has relatives who can get him a construction job.
“If something happens to me, I don’t scare easy,” he said. “I’ll do it again to see who wins, the train or me. Only thing is I can’t run, so I’ll have to wait until it’s stopped to get on.”
Tapachula, where this report was researched, is the city just down the mountain from Salvador Urbina. It's where I spent my day at the market and bought my firewords. El Buen Pastor (Jesus the Good Pastor) is the house where Luis, the Guatemalan man that went with us to Chiapas, stayed at after he lost his legs under the train.
Follow up post coming from me with some thoughts on the article and the issues it raises.
TAPACHULA, Mexico
Adriana Zehbrauskas for The New York Times
Donar Antonio RamÃrez Espinas lost both his legs during his attempt to cross into the United States. “You make the decision to look for a better life,” he said, “without knowing that you could end up like this.”
They had been in Mexico for only a few hours and already federal police officers had forced them to strip and had taken almost all their cash, they said. They had some 1,500 miles to go to reach the United States border, with no food or water and $9 each.
They intended to walk along the Chiapas coast for the first 250 miles through a dozen towns where migrants are regularly robbed or raped. Then they planned to clamber aboard a freight train with hundreds of other immigrants for the trip north, a dangerous journey that has left hundreds before them maimed after they fell under the wheels.
“It’s dangerous, yes, one risks one’s life,” said one of the men, Noé Hernández. “One risks it if you have a family member in the States to help you. It’s not just for fun we go through Mexico.”
A month ago, Mexico’s new president, Felipe Calderón, announced measures to slow the flow of illegal immigrants across Mexico’s southern border and reduce crime in this lush but impoverished region. He stepped up the presence of soldiers and federal police here, told of plans for a guest worker program and promised joint state and federal operations to catch illegal immigrants.
But much remains to be done to stop or deter the migrants, and for now the measures have had little effect. Social workers and volunteers who aid the migrants say they keep coming.
Every three days, 300 to 500 Central Americans swarm the freight train in Arriaga, strapping themselves with ropes or belts to the tops of cars or riding between the wagons, they say.
The migrants still wade across the Suchiate River between Guatemala and Mexico with little hindrance. Corruption is rampant. Soldiers and police officers on the Mexican side extort money from the migrants but seldom turn them around, aid workers and migrants said.
“It’s an open border,” said Francisco Aceves Verdugo, a supervisor in the government agency, Grupos Beta, that gives food, water and medicine to illegal migrants. “We are confronting a monster so big in the form of corruption that we aren’t doing anything.”
The federal authorities do catch and deport illegal immigrants from Central America on their trek north — about 170,000 last year, according to Leticia RodrÃguez, a spokeswoman for the National Migration Institute.
On the evening of Jan. 19, as part of Mr. Calderón’s new get-tough policy, about 400 federal police officers stopped the freight train just after it left Arriaga and arrested more than 100 immigrants who had climbed aboard.
Still, aid workers say a majority gets through. The biggest deterrent, migrants say, is not federal authorities but armed thugs who waylay them along the railroad tracks or on paths through the countryside used to avoid the immigration posts along the main highway.
This month, Misael MejÃa, 27, from Comayagua, Honduras, was awaiting the train in Arriaga with nine other young men from his town. They had walked for 11 days after wading across the Suchiate to get to the railhead in Arriaga.
None of them had a dime after being ambushed a week before by three men in ski masks in daylight near Huehuetán. Two of the men carried machetes, the third a machine gun.
“They told us to lay down and take off our clothes,” Mr. MejÃa said. “I lost my watch, about 500 Honduran lempiras, and 40 Mexican pesos,” about $31.
Mr. MejÃa said he would press on. He has a brother in Arizona who has promised to pick him up if he can run the gantlet through the United States border patrol. He left a $200-a-month job as a driver behind, along with his wife. His brother makes $700 a week as a carpenter.
“I felt hopeless in Honduras,” he said. “Because I could never afford a house, not even a car. There is nothing I could have.”
Down the street from the tracks, at the Hearth of Mercy shelter, where illegal immigrants can get a free hot meal and medicine, Juan Antonio Cruz, 16, hunched over a bowl of rice and told how he had left El Salvador after members of the Mara Salvatrucha street gang had threatened to kill him. “They wanted me to join them,” he said.
It was his second attempt to reach Arizona, he said. The first time he had endured eight freezing nights and sweltering days aboard the train by strapping his belt to bar atop a tanker car. The border patrol caught him as he crossed into Nogales, Ariz., and sent him back home to Usulután, where the gang members threatened him again.
“When I think about the train, I feel fear and panic, for the thieves who attack you, and also for falling off,” he said softly.
For some, that is how the dream ends, with a fall under the train’s heavy, whirring wheels.
At the Shelter of Jesus the Good Pastor in Tapachula, Donar Antonio RamÃrez Espinas rubbed the bandaged stumps of his legs, sheared off above the knee, as he recalled the night of March 26, 2004, when he dozed off while riding between cars, lost his grip and fell onto the tracks.
“I fell face down, and at first I didn’t think anything had happened,” he said. “When I turned over, I saw, I realized, that my feet didn’t really exist.”
Back in Honduras, he had been working menial jobs in a parking lot and at a medical warehouse, making about $120 a month. Then he and a few buddies decided to try their luck in the States.
“You make the decision to look for a better life, not to continue with the life your father led, and for this you risk your life, without knowing that you could end up like this,” he said. “An amputee.”
After the accident, he spent two years at the shelter in Tapachula, wrestling with depression and thoughts of suicide. When those black days finally passed, he returned home for five months, only to find his parents, his former wife and even his three children had trouble accepting his disability. “My 9-year-old said, ‘Papa, why did you come back like this?’ ” he remembered. “I didn’t dare answer him.”
Mr. RamÃrez has returned to the shelter here, where he hopes to learn a trade — fashioning prosthetic legs and arms for other victims of the train. Others at the shelter told similar stories. Some doubted they would be able to make a living in their home countries, where even getting a wheelchair is hard.
But some of those with lesser injuries insisted their accident was just a temporary setback. Minor Estuardo Cortez, 33, from Guatemala, lost his left foot under a train wheel while climbing aboard in Oaxaca State. At the shelter, he has healed and learned to walk with a prosthetic foot. He intends to continue his journey. If he reaches Houston, he says, he has relatives who can get him a construction job.
“If something happens to me, I don’t scare easy,” he said. “I’ll do it again to see who wins, the train or me. Only thing is I can’t run, so I’ll have to wait until it’s stopped to get on.”
Thursday, January 25, 2007
My Boxer Briefs Are Sweatfree
Last week I was really out of underwear.
I got to the point where I had worn through a few old pairs, left a good set in Chiapas, and needed to make the investment that every man I know tries desperately to put off, new underwear.
I had made it my goal to, if at all possible, meet this need without resorting to buying something that could have been made in a sweatshop. I'm equally unimpressed with companies that manufacture goods at rock-bottom wages, but not in what is technically a sweatshop, and then jack up the price on us. In this instance, however, I was simply looking to avoid anything possibly made in a sweatshop.
In a town like Douglas, AZ (as in most places in America), looking for a product not potentially made in a sweatshop was pretty much impossible, which sent me straight to the internet. Unsure of where to begin, I started my search for fair-trade underwear with a little trip to google.
My query of "sweatshop free boxer briefs" yielded "about" 19,900 results, the very first of which was the promising looking Justice Clothing.
Following that link brought me to http://www.justiceclothing.com/thereis/justice/lw20300.html (sorry, links aren't working for me again), which, sure enough, was a site where I could order a union made (in Pottstown, PA no less!) three pack of white, grey, or black boxer briefs, in my choice of size, and have them shipped right to my door.
That was pretty dang easy. And, sadly enough, quite costly. My three brand new boxer briefs cost me $21.00 plus $5.05 more for shipping and handling. "Ouch," I thought.
But then I checked it out.
Lowest of the low cost (so we are told) walmart.com had a four pack of boxer briefs for $15.34 plus $3.94 for shipping and handling.
Target was even worse, charging 9.99 for EACH boxer brief (less for Euro-trunks, but that's not something I'm prepared to wear), and offering me free shipping if I bought three. Thanks for the free shipping on my $30.00 of cotton!
Ok, let's do the math here.
Target's boxer briefs were obviously $9.99 each (provided you buy three, which is what I wanted).
Wal-Mart, including shipping and handling, came out to $4.82 per boxer brief for a pack of four.
My three boxer briefs from Justice Clothing/Lifewear (complete with a seriously so much better horizontal fly) cost me $8.68 cents each. If I had ordered more packs the price would have dropped even further.
So here's what we've got:
Target: $10.00, nice store aesthetics and clever advertisements, clear supporter of sweatshop labor, and marginal to bad employee pay.
Wal-Mart: $4.82, terrible shopping experience, proven price gouging, terrible employee pay and benefits, clear supporter of sweatshop labor.
Justice Clothing: $8.68, easy to use site, good pay and benefits for their employees, committed to fighting sweatshop labor.
To me the choice is very clear.
Even better than avoiding sweatshop labor was finding a company that I feel good about supporting. Justice Clothing, if you take a look, has a whole range of products at pretty affordable prices, especially when you consider that they are actually compensating their employees for their labor. How novel of them.
This whole exercise makes me that much more committed to using my money as a force for positive change, instead of just using it, as I say, "to do no harm." What I mean is that rather than trying to avoid making purchasing and lifestyle choices at places where I think that other people are paying a high cost for the price I receive, I intend to seek out purchases that help people to empower themselves. My experience with boxer briefs shows just how easy, simple, and cost-competitive that can be.
Next time you need something (anything), try looking for it on google first. Put in your ideal product (an environmentally friendly stove cleaner, for example) and see what happens. I think you'll be surprised. Even if it costs you a little bit more money, I think it's worth it. Try it, and let me know what you find.
*As another aside, most retail companies provide pictures of their products, on real people, when you shop online (see link to Justice Clothing). Needless to say, it proved to be somewhat awkward trying to buy boxer briefs at the office.*
I got to the point where I had worn through a few old pairs, left a good set in Chiapas, and needed to make the investment that every man I know tries desperately to put off, new underwear.
I had made it my goal to, if at all possible, meet this need without resorting to buying something that could have been made in a sweatshop. I'm equally unimpressed with companies that manufacture goods at rock-bottom wages, but not in what is technically a sweatshop, and then jack up the price on us. In this instance, however, I was simply looking to avoid anything possibly made in a sweatshop.
In a town like Douglas, AZ (as in most places in America), looking for a product not potentially made in a sweatshop was pretty much impossible, which sent me straight to the internet. Unsure of where to begin, I started my search for fair-trade underwear with a little trip to google.
My query of "sweatshop free boxer briefs" yielded "about" 19,900 results, the very first of which was the promising looking Justice Clothing.
Following that link brought me to http://www.justiceclothing.com/thereis/justice/lw20300.html (sorry, links aren't working for me again), which, sure enough, was a site where I could order a union made (in Pottstown, PA no less!) three pack of white, grey, or black boxer briefs, in my choice of size, and have them shipped right to my door.
That was pretty dang easy. And, sadly enough, quite costly. My three brand new boxer briefs cost me $21.00 plus $5.05 more for shipping and handling. "Ouch," I thought.
But then I checked it out.
Lowest of the low cost (so we are told) walmart.com had a four pack of boxer briefs for $15.34 plus $3.94 for shipping and handling.
Target was even worse, charging 9.99 for EACH boxer brief (less for Euro-trunks, but that's not something I'm prepared to wear), and offering me free shipping if I bought three. Thanks for the free shipping on my $30.00 of cotton!
Ok, let's do the math here.
Target's boxer briefs were obviously $9.99 each (provided you buy three, which is what I wanted).
Wal-Mart, including shipping and handling, came out to $4.82 per boxer brief for a pack of four.
My three boxer briefs from Justice Clothing/Lifewear (complete with a seriously so much better horizontal fly) cost me $8.68 cents each. If I had ordered more packs the price would have dropped even further.
So here's what we've got:
Target: $10.00, nice store aesthetics and clever advertisements, clear supporter of sweatshop labor, and marginal to bad employee pay.
Wal-Mart: $4.82, terrible shopping experience, proven price gouging, terrible employee pay and benefits, clear supporter of sweatshop labor.
Justice Clothing: $8.68, easy to use site, good pay and benefits for their employees, committed to fighting sweatshop labor.
To me the choice is very clear.
Even better than avoiding sweatshop labor was finding a company that I feel good about supporting. Justice Clothing, if you take a look, has a whole range of products at pretty affordable prices, especially when you consider that they are actually compensating their employees for their labor. How novel of them.
This whole exercise makes me that much more committed to using my money as a force for positive change, instead of just using it, as I say, "to do no harm." What I mean is that rather than trying to avoid making purchasing and lifestyle choices at places where I think that other people are paying a high cost for the price I receive, I intend to seek out purchases that help people to empower themselves. My experience with boxer briefs shows just how easy, simple, and cost-competitive that can be.
Next time you need something (anything), try looking for it on google first. Put in your ideal product (an environmentally friendly stove cleaner, for example) and see what happens. I think you'll be surprised. Even if it costs you a little bit more money, I think it's worth it. Try it, and let me know what you find.
*As another aside, most retail companies provide pictures of their products, on real people, when you shop online (see link to Justice Clothing). Needless to say, it proved to be somewhat awkward trying to buy boxer briefs at the office.*
Oh No He Didn't
I used to like conspiracy theories and government secrets and all sorts of stuff like that, but I left it all behind in the eighth grade when I decided it didn't matter all that much who killed John F. Kennedy.
I've even managed to dislike the Bush administration profoundly (and from the primaries of the 2000 election) without paying any attention to all the talk of secret government plots against the American people, etc.
I think I was too hasty...( sometimes the image of the video takes a minute to load)
This, I believe, would be the straw that breaks my back.
He's not even saying this in private. This is in the Senate. On TV.
This is the man watching out for your legal rights.
Wow.
I've even managed to dislike the Bush administration profoundly (and from the primaries of the 2000 election) without paying any attention to all the talk of secret government plots against the American people, etc.
I think I was too hasty...( sometimes the image of the video takes a minute to load)
This, I believe, would be the straw that breaks my back.
He's not even saying this in private. This is in the Senate. On TV.
This is the man watching out for your legal rights.
Wow.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
So I guess they won't be joining us for the vigil...
"Volunteer Aaron Boeke, 22, of Colorado places crosses Tuesday in Douglas for immigrants who died crossing the border in or near Cochise County."
It turns out that I was in the newspaper recently, the distinguished Tucson Citizen.
As far as I can tell there was never any story, just a picture and a caption. The really priceless part for me were the seven comments made after the picture, included for your enjoyment:
1. TODAY IN THE NEWS:
Some White-guilt feel-good places two crosses by the port of entry to scare away Mexican shoppers.
2. Hey, great idea. Let's glorify ILLEGAL border crossers and let's make them martyrs. Message to ILLEGALS; it's now honorable to ILLEGALLY cross into the US. Morons.
3. Is there a story to go with the pictures? If so, I cannot bringit up, but I can pretty much guess what it would say anyway!
4. So no story and only pics… hum… I was waiting for the story but, hey, I thought this was a NEWSPAPER, I could be wrong… Star, take it down if your writers can’t think of a story to go with it.
I do want anyone thinking of crossing illegally into the US to know that I know how those illegals could have lived, and how to guarantee their not dieing in the desert… are you ready?? ... They could have chosen to stay in their own country and not try to invade ours... or they could have gotten a Visa or applied for citizenship, they could have come legally. I am sorry to sound heartless but I have no sympathy for someone stupid enough to try and take this deadly and illegal shortcut after years and years of deaths in the desert.
5. Knowing, the biased star, the story would go something like this:
MEMORIAL TO MIGRANT WORKERS
Today, activists planted white crosses as a reminder of how the heartless border enforcement policy of the United States and the Border Patrol are driving totally honest migrant workers to their unwitting death. The Border Patrol could not be reached for comment.
However, Gloria Allred Lopez-Miranda with "Mi Casa es Su Casa Humanos" told the Star: "This is another example of the United States government punishing honest hard-working criminals who only want a better way of life. It's such a racist and underhanded policy."
When asked for her reaction to the recent I.C.E. raids at meat packing plants across the country, Lopez-Miranda stated "I think the government is framing migrant workers. I can't believe that someone coming across the border for work would steal someone's identity to obtain employment. I want to file a lawsuit against the government on behalf of those migrant workers. They have a right to sneak into this country for employement and not pay taxes!"
The Dept of Homeland Security and Border Patrol could not be reached for comment.
6. These people ought to be directing their protests at Mexico, not the US. It’s the corruption, lack of opportunity, and social problems in Mexico that drive these people to cross the border.
7. Mr Boeke needs to go back to Colorado maybe someone up there will explain to him that these people died committing a crime, they are not to be glorified for it.
If they had not committed the crime of illegal crossing an international border across a desert they might still be alive.
They were stupid and suffered their fate, their demise because of it.
I guess that I should find these comments sad, but at this point I find them sort of funny. What we were actually doing was dedicating a bench commemorating eight migrants who died after they were swept away and trapped by a storm drain just a few feet north of the border. The crosses that I am laying down carry the names of migrants who have died here in Cochise County. We use them in a vigil that we hold every Tuesday evening. I plan on talking about that at some point, but I am still undecided about what I want to say.
The things is, these comments make the whole thing seem like it wasn't a real problem, like it wasn't complex and ugly and funny and tragic, and all those things that can make life so difficult to deal with. I used to find that sad, but I guess now I just like to laugh about it.
Also, that picture makes me look like I have to poop.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
I'm On Permanent Mexiroam
Here it is, the Chiapas post that at least two of you have been clamoring for. The rest of you don't have to read it if you don't want to.
I still haven't figured out a way to talk (succinctly or not) about a trip that lasted almost three weeks and encompassed two-thirds of the great country of Mexico, so my apologies if this is a little disjointed or confusing. This is going to be a massive post because of the pictures.
Here are some basics for the trip:
Who- Myself, Meghan (my housemate, co-intern, and partner all things Mexico), Tommy (my boss at the Just Trade Center, a weird sort of blend between hippie, Catholic, corporate manager, and romantic), Barbara (Tommy's girlfriend and an unbelievable coffee saleswoman), Arthur (Tommy's twentysomething son and a great guy), Daniel (co-founder of Just Coffee and one of the nicest guys I've ever met), Vicki (Daniel's wife and the woman in charge of packaging for Just Coffee), Danielito (Daniel and Vicki's son, easily one of the coolest two year-olds I have ever met), Luis (A Guatemalan immigrant who lost both of his legs in a train accident trying to get to the U.S. border), and Surullo (Vicki's dog and constant companion).
What- A three(ish) week trip down the west coast of Mexico to visit the town of Salvador Urbina in the state of Chiapas (the location of the Just Coffee cooperative), and then back up through the center of Mexico with a stop in Veracruz to visit one of the two new cooperatives. We borrowed a 1980's Ford 15 passanger van with 225,00 miles on it from our friends at the Catholic Church and loaded another 4,000 miles onto it between the time we left the border and the time we got back.
When- We left on December 27th I think, and got back last week at some point.
Where- I suppose I sort of covered that point already. Here's a map to help out.
The red lines follow the rough route of our trip.
Why- Part of my motivation for going was just to visit so much of Mexico that I had never seen before. Part of it was just to take a break and relax. Most of it, however, was my desire to meet the Just Coffee growers and see the states where migrants were coming from. I also didn't really want to come home for Christmas because this year is a bit of a test run for how I would like living abroad for an extended period of time.
Now for the pictures (click to enlarge):
The beach just north of Mazatlan where we stopped for a swim after our first night of driving. Gorgeous.
A blurry, but adequate, picture of the ditch that I accidentally backed the van into, and the rescuers that helped us get it out. To be fair, it was pitch black and we were in a residential neighborhood. Ditches weren't really on the radar. And no, I didn't take the picture. I'm behind the van pushing just like everybody else. I haven't really had great luck with vans in Mexico.
Sadly I did not break the pinata. I will say that pinatas, fireworks, and hugs for ALL of the fifty people at the party is a great tradition for celebrating the new year. Feliz ano nuevo indeed.
My home away from home. This is Daniel's mom's house (Mama Yoly). There were already six people living in the house (from three different generations) when the eight of us moved in. I'm quite happy to say that Mama Yoly and company spoiled us rotten. Great food. Great conversation. Great people. Tons of fun. The stuff on the cement outside is coffee being dried in the sun.
The women of Mama Yoly's house. And it was DEFINITELY a house of women (only one man lived there permanently, and he was moving out). Mama Yoly is in the back right of the picture, her daughter-in-law Rosy is next to her, her daughter Elda next to that, Elda's daughter Tahlia on the back left, Barbara and Meghan are clearly the gringas, and Daniella is between them. I actually don't know who that baby is, there were many of them around. All of these women except for Daniella were living in the house.
Tahlia (back left, 19) and Daniella (front, 22) were my homegirls in Salvador Urbina. Tahlia's mom Elda owned this little store in the town square, and it was awesome to just hang out with them, drink delicious Fanta, and talk about life.
Danielito is my boy all the time. Seriously, can YOU think of a toddler you would want to spend 120 hours in a van with?
Elda. What can I say about Elda? Well, for one thing, this is a picture of her punching me. I guess that tells you something about our relationship. Tommy and Arturo call her "La Mala," which literally means "The Bad One." We skirmished. We teased. We laughed. She misses me, I know it.
Rosy and her boys (her own description of this picture) That tall drink of water on the left is Arthur. The other one, you may or may not be able to tell, is me.
This is the view of Salvador Urbina from the front of Mama Yoly's patio. The pueblo is on two sides of a valley and centers around the road that runs up the mountain through the center of town. The Cifuentes family is pretty legendary in Salvador Urbina. For one thing, Daniel's grandfather helped fight for the land that the town now sits on. For another, there are at least 150 people in the family, and most of them live in Salvador Urbina. Daniel has 12 brothers and sisters, and Mama Yoly has more than 50 grandchildren. Finally, Daniel and his brothers Eri and Isaac were pretty much the driving force behind Just Coffee.
This is the "laundry machine" at Mama Yoly's house. It is also the large basin of water that you draw from in order to bathe yourself or flush the toilet. Compared to showers I almost prefer baths out of buckets now, but that's just me. I'd say the highlight of doing anything down there was the view, but the fish that lived in the water tank was pretty cool too.
The market in Tapachula. Fireworks? Check. Hammocks? Check. Used clothing? Check. Fresh pineapple? Check. I love street markets.
Sunrise on our way up the volcano Tacana. We left at 8 p.m. the night before, hiked until about 1 or 2, and crashed until dawn. It was freezing cold and I stayed up most of the night keeping a fire going in a little shack that they had built for people climbing the volcano. The brutal thing about Tacana was that there were hardly any switchbacks at all, just a straight path up the mountain.
Tacana's summit. The marker that I am standing by is the international border between Guatemala and Mexico that divides the mountain in half. The volcano behind me is in Guatemala. Needless to say, customs doesn't have a checkpoint up there.
Ruins from the city of Tahin in Veracruz. One of the most beautiful places I have ever been.
The gringo crew enjoying coffee, pan dulce, and good company in Veracruz. Throughout our trip the people of Mexico were undecided whether Tommy looked more like Santa Clause or more like Fidel Castro. Votes?
This is the armadillo that we started eating almost immediately after the last picture was taken. Pretty tasty actually. Especially with hand made corn tortillas, possibly one of the best tasting things on earth.
The "Socios" (members of the coffee cooperative) in Veracruz. Really great folks.
The coffee "fields" in Veracruz. Organic. Shade grown. Just. It's a beautiful thing. Kind of reminded me of my grandfather's avocado grove from when I was a kid.
Cleaning the coffee by hand so that it would be pure enough to decaffeinate. We really need to figure out a better way to do this. It's all about the quality though. Who loves you? That's right, Just Coffee loves you.
A coffee farmer on his way to sell the harvest. He still had another 45 minutes to go and those bags weigh 100 lbs. Think about that the next time you're at Starbucks.
One of the ten or so Cathedrals that we visited in the colonial city of San Luis Potosi. Thanks for the European training Mom and Dad. I can visit Cathedrals like a champ. On a side note, I think that when Protestants get bored they found new denominations, and when Catholics get bored they build more churches. It's a working theory.
That's it for me I think. I might post more thoughts later. I might post more pictures. We'll see.
I will say that it was easily one of the best trips I've ever taken, and that I'm also incredibly glad to be back "home" on the border, particularly as I've taken up puppy ranching. But that's for another post.
I still haven't figured out a way to talk (succinctly or not) about a trip that lasted almost three weeks and encompassed two-thirds of the great country of Mexico, so my apologies if this is a little disjointed or confusing. This is going to be a massive post because of the pictures.
Here are some basics for the trip:
Who- Myself, Meghan (my housemate, co-intern, and partner all things Mexico), Tommy (my boss at the Just Trade Center, a weird sort of blend between hippie, Catholic, corporate manager, and romantic), Barbara (Tommy's girlfriend and an unbelievable coffee saleswoman), Arthur (Tommy's twentysomething son and a great guy), Daniel (co-founder of Just Coffee and one of the nicest guys I've ever met), Vicki (Daniel's wife and the woman in charge of packaging for Just Coffee), Danielito (Daniel and Vicki's son, easily one of the coolest two year-olds I have ever met), Luis (A Guatemalan immigrant who lost both of his legs in a train accident trying to get to the U.S. border), and Surullo (Vicki's dog and constant companion).
What- A three(ish) week trip down the west coast of Mexico to visit the town of Salvador Urbina in the state of Chiapas (the location of the Just Coffee cooperative), and then back up through the center of Mexico with a stop in Veracruz to visit one of the two new cooperatives. We borrowed a 1980's Ford 15 passanger van with 225,00 miles on it from our friends at the Catholic Church and loaded another 4,000 miles onto it between the time we left the border and the time we got back.
When- We left on December 27th I think, and got back last week at some point.
Where- I suppose I sort of covered that point already. Here's a map to help out.
The red lines follow the rough route of our trip.
Why- Part of my motivation for going was just to visit so much of Mexico that I had never seen before. Part of it was just to take a break and relax. Most of it, however, was my desire to meet the Just Coffee growers and see the states where migrants were coming from. I also didn't really want to come home for Christmas because this year is a bit of a test run for how I would like living abroad for an extended period of time.
Now for the pictures (click to enlarge):
The beach just north of Mazatlan where we stopped for a swim after our first night of driving. Gorgeous.
A blurry, but adequate, picture of the ditch that I accidentally backed the van into, and the rescuers that helped us get it out. To be fair, it was pitch black and we were in a residential neighborhood. Ditches weren't really on the radar. And no, I didn't take the picture. I'm behind the van pushing just like everybody else. I haven't really had great luck with vans in Mexico.
Sadly I did not break the pinata. I will say that pinatas, fireworks, and hugs for ALL of the fifty people at the party is a great tradition for celebrating the new year. Feliz ano nuevo indeed.
My home away from home. This is Daniel's mom's house (Mama Yoly). There were already six people living in the house (from three different generations) when the eight of us moved in. I'm quite happy to say that Mama Yoly and company spoiled us rotten. Great food. Great conversation. Great people. Tons of fun. The stuff on the cement outside is coffee being dried in the sun.
The women of Mama Yoly's house. And it was DEFINITELY a house of women (only one man lived there permanently, and he was moving out). Mama Yoly is in the back right of the picture, her daughter-in-law Rosy is next to her, her daughter Elda next to that, Elda's daughter Tahlia on the back left, Barbara and Meghan are clearly the gringas, and Daniella is between them. I actually don't know who that baby is, there were many of them around. All of these women except for Daniella were living in the house.
Tahlia (back left, 19) and Daniella (front, 22) were my homegirls in Salvador Urbina. Tahlia's mom Elda owned this little store in the town square, and it was awesome to just hang out with them, drink delicious Fanta, and talk about life.
Danielito is my boy all the time. Seriously, can YOU think of a toddler you would want to spend 120 hours in a van with?
Elda. What can I say about Elda? Well, for one thing, this is a picture of her punching me. I guess that tells you something about our relationship. Tommy and Arturo call her "La Mala," which literally means "The Bad One." We skirmished. We teased. We laughed. She misses me, I know it.
Rosy and her boys (her own description of this picture) That tall drink of water on the left is Arthur. The other one, you may or may not be able to tell, is me.
This is the view of Salvador Urbina from the front of Mama Yoly's patio. The pueblo is on two sides of a valley and centers around the road that runs up the mountain through the center of town. The Cifuentes family is pretty legendary in Salvador Urbina. For one thing, Daniel's grandfather helped fight for the land that the town now sits on. For another, there are at least 150 people in the family, and most of them live in Salvador Urbina. Daniel has 12 brothers and sisters, and Mama Yoly has more than 50 grandchildren. Finally, Daniel and his brothers Eri and Isaac were pretty much the driving force behind Just Coffee.
This is the "laundry machine" at Mama Yoly's house. It is also the large basin of water that you draw from in order to bathe yourself or flush the toilet. Compared to showers I almost prefer baths out of buckets now, but that's just me. I'd say the highlight of doing anything down there was the view, but the fish that lived in the water tank was pretty cool too.
The market in Tapachula. Fireworks? Check. Hammocks? Check. Used clothing? Check. Fresh pineapple? Check. I love street markets.
Sunrise on our way up the volcano Tacana. We left at 8 p.m. the night before, hiked until about 1 or 2, and crashed until dawn. It was freezing cold and I stayed up most of the night keeping a fire going in a little shack that they had built for people climbing the volcano. The brutal thing about Tacana was that there were hardly any switchbacks at all, just a straight path up the mountain.
Tacana's summit. The marker that I am standing by is the international border between Guatemala and Mexico that divides the mountain in half. The volcano behind me is in Guatemala. Needless to say, customs doesn't have a checkpoint up there.
Ruins from the city of Tahin in Veracruz. One of the most beautiful places I have ever been.
The gringo crew enjoying coffee, pan dulce, and good company in Veracruz. Throughout our trip the people of Mexico were undecided whether Tommy looked more like Santa Clause or more like Fidel Castro. Votes?
This is the armadillo that we started eating almost immediately after the last picture was taken. Pretty tasty actually. Especially with hand made corn tortillas, possibly one of the best tasting things on earth.
The "Socios" (members of the coffee cooperative) in Veracruz. Really great folks.
The coffee "fields" in Veracruz. Organic. Shade grown. Just. It's a beautiful thing. Kind of reminded me of my grandfather's avocado grove from when I was a kid.
Cleaning the coffee by hand so that it would be pure enough to decaffeinate. We really need to figure out a better way to do this. It's all about the quality though. Who loves you? That's right, Just Coffee loves you.
A coffee farmer on his way to sell the harvest. He still had another 45 minutes to go and those bags weigh 100 lbs. Think about that the next time you're at Starbucks.
One of the ten or so Cathedrals that we visited in the colonial city of San Luis Potosi. Thanks for the European training Mom and Dad. I can visit Cathedrals like a champ. On a side note, I think that when Protestants get bored they found new denominations, and when Catholics get bored they build more churches. It's a working theory.
That's it for me I think. I might post more thoughts later. I might post more pictures. We'll see.
I will say that it was easily one of the best trips I've ever taken, and that I'm also incredibly glad to be back "home" on the border, particularly as I've taken up puppy ranching. But that's for another post.
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