a polk in the eye

I always regret finishing a book.  Especially, a biography.

It it is well-written, you feel as if you have just spent a couple of days with a very interesting person -- who you will never see again.  You know the tales of his life.  Not particularly why he lived his life, but how he lived his life.

You also know that if you run into him in the context of another work, it will not be quite the same person you just met. 

I suppose that is how life works, as well.  The person you get to know on a two-week cruise is probably not the same personality you will meet at an opening night party.

That is how I feel having just completed Robert Merry's A Country of Vast Designs: James K. Polk, the Mexican War, and the Conquest of the American Continent.

James Polk has never been one of my favorite presidents.  I suppose part of the reason is I have long accepted the Whig-Republican take on his presidency.  That he misled the American people into a war with defenseless Mexico for the purpose of gaining new territory to protect slavery from the boundaries of the Missouri Compromise.

In my household he was almost as vile as his mentor, Andrew Jackson.

As a student of history, I knew the cartoonish caricature was not quite accurate.  Certainly, there was more to the man than that.

Now that I have finished Merry's biography, I know there is more.

Polk is one of those odd presidents.  Most people would have trouble placing him in any historical context.

Part of that is due to the fact that he was a bit eclipsed by Jackson, the man he admired more than any other.  But he brought part of it on himself.  When he ran for president in 1844, he received the Democrat nomination as a "dark horse" (in fact, the term was first used for his candidacy).  Even though he had been a governor of Tennessee and speaker of the house of representatives, he did not have the type of reputation of the giants of the era.  Clay.  Webster.  Calhoun.

He also restricted himself to one term.  But what a term it was.

He came to office with only four goals in mind:

• Annex Texas
• Acquire the full Oregon Territory
• Reform tariffs
• Establish an independent treasury free of any banks

And he accomplished all of them.  To a degree. 

He had to settle on a compromise with Britain on the boundary of the Oregon Territory.  But, when the treaty was signed, for the first time, American soil extended from the Atlantic to the Pacific.  And the United States was positioned to become a Pacific, as well as an Atlantic, power.

It was the first goal, though, that has sullied Polk's name.  And it is why Mexicans, who know their history, despise him.

Texas won its effective independence from Mexico as a separate republic in 1836.  Texas had sought admission to the United States as a slave state.  Polk's predecessor, Tyler, had negotiated terms of admission that Polk and Congress eventually approved.

But along with Texas came a border dispute.  Mexico had never legally recognized Texas independence.  And if it was independent, Texas's border was the Nueces River, not the Rio Bravo.

When the United States annexed Texas, Mexico broke off diplomatic relations with the United States and fortified the Rio Bravo.  President Polk sent an army under Zachary Taylor (who would succeed Polk in the presidency) to defend against any Mexican incursion.

What happened next is in dispute.  But it appears that Taylor's presence in the disputed zone prompted the Mexicans to defend their pride by sending troops across the river.  Blood was spilled.  And President Polk had his war.

Did Polk want war?  Probably.  He saw it as a way to settle the Texas border.  But he also saw an opportunity to win the swath of land between Texas and the Pacific.  Giving the United States the basic contours we know today.

Did he want to extend slavery to the new territories?  The record would support a verdict that he could not see slavery having any application in the new territories.  But he also ducked the moral question when some members of Congress attempted to block slavery in any lands conquered from Mexico.

And it was a gamble -- a war that the United States could have lost easily.  In most battles the Americans were outnumbered against battle-hardened Mexican troops and officers.  After all, Mexicans had been fighting one another (including the citizens of its Texas province) for some time.

The Mexican-American War is a fascinating topic.  And it appears to be almost as controversial as it was in the 1840s.  Interestingly, when the Whigs came to power, they did nothing to reverse the gains.  Expansionism was popular.

Merry writes a good story of complex personalities. 

A president with a limited agenda and no military training who succeeded in expanding the nation by one-third.  The president's diplomat who was fired, but still negotiated a treaty ending the war.  A Mexican general and former president who euchred the American president into believing the general would bring peace to Mexico, but ended up leading the Mexican forces against the invaders.  An American secretary of state, whose presidential ambitions, nearly derailed peace with Britain and made matters worse with Mexico.

And hanging in the background, the moral blotch of slavery.  During Polk's presidency, the regional rifts became so bad that both political parties would soon fracture, one would disappear, a new one would be created, and civil war would break out.

But that path would be trod by other presidents.  Polk turned the presidency over to the "Whig general" Taylor in 1849 and went home to die three months later.

Having read this biography, I understand Polk better.  He was as flawed as any politician.  Any person, for that matter.

But Merry may have said it best in conclusion, especially for a man like Polk, who lived by Jacksonian principles: "[I]n the end he succeeded and fulfilled the vision and dream of his constituency.  In a democratic system that is the ultimate measure of political success."

Pick up a copy.  You may even like the Polk you meet.

   

roof in the road

I thought I had missed a disaster here in town.  A wind storm or an earthquake.

It appeared that one of my favorite restaurants (the Red Lobster -- not the abysmally mediocre north of the border franchise -- but the local trademark-infringing Mom and Pop operation in Villa Obregon) had suffered some form of mishap.  What had once been the palapa on the top of the building was now in the street.

Or, rather, the palm fronds that once formed the roof of the papa on the top of the building (not of the house that Jack built) was now in the street.

That is one of the odd things about renovation.  Whether it is done by nature or by owners, the result looks the same.  Like a disaster.  And that may be one reason so many people are afraid of change.  It simply looks disorderly.
 

But if I had looked closer, I would have seen the pile of freshly harvested and split palm fronds piled in their Niles Crane anal retentive orderliness next to the avalanche of soon-to-be-discrarded dried fronds.

I love the smell of freshly-split palm fronds.  It reminds me of a cross between mown grass and crushed Sitka Spruce needles.  Almost as if a bit of the Pacific Northwest had been re-packaged in a tropical bundle.

One of the nice things about palapas is that there is little waiting for "out with the old and in with the new."  By that afternoon, the project was done.

What had been so fresh and green on the ground had already started to fade into Tiki Lounge brown.  A day later, there is no green.  The palapa looks as if it has stood there in its eternal shade of tan.

By the way, the name of the restaurant really is just the Red Lobster.  Despite what the sign says.  It is not "to the Red Lobster."

When the owner had the sign made, he wanted the title in English -- to lure in language-handicapped northerners.  Like myself.  But his sign maker spoke only Spanish. 

So, the owner gave him a copy of a menu with the phrase "Welcome to the Red Lobster."  How only a portion of the phrase was transferred, we will never know. 

It is just another of those mysteries of Mexico.

 

pri and pri again

Bill Clinton may have been the Comeback Kid in the United States, but the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) may have a better claim to the title.

PRI was essentially the sole ruling power from 1929 to 2000.  It took a bit of creative vote-counting to keep the party where it wanted to be.  But in 2000 the voters said enough was enough.  PRI lost the presidency and its hold on both legislative houses, the deputies and senate.  It lost the presidency again in 2006.

But the comeback started in the legislative elections in 2009 when PRI won the largest bloc of seats in the chamber of deputies.

And it now owns the presidency.  As everyone expected, the voters chose Enrique Peña Nieto as the next president.  But not by much.  He bested his leftist opponent, Andrés Manuel López Obrador, by six percentage points -- 38% to 32%.

In most countries six percentage points would be a landslide.  But the result was close enough and the tallies were irregular enough that about half of the presidential ballots will be recounted before the official results are announced on Sunday.

Not that it will make much difference to López Obrador.  He lost the presidency in a squeaker in 2006.  For almost a year, he and his followers indulged in demonstrations that tied up Mexico City.  He still calls himself the rightful president -- like some Bourbon pretender.

And it looks as if Mexico may face something similar when Peña Nieto is inaugurated on 1 December.  López Obrador claims the campaign was replete with overspending, vote-buying, and favorable treatment of Peña Nieto by Mexico's television industry.  Issues he discussed during the campaign, but that were ignored by a plurality of the voters.

On Sunday, the election commission will undoubtedly tell us what we already know.  PRI owns the presidency.

But PRI's exile in the wilderness has been good for Mexican democracy.  Mexican voters have become far more sophisticated in their ticket-splitting.

The best place to see that is in the legislative election results.  Take a look at the chart at the top of this post.

In the chamber of deputies, PRI and its allies lost seats.  A sizable number.  López Obrador's party -- the Party of the Democratic Revolution (PRD) -- will become the largest opposition group.  And, in the senate, PRI picked up enough seats to be the largest party, but not enough for a majority.

That mans there will be a lot of coalition voting in both houses to pass any legislation.

And Peña Nieto has a list of reforms that will need coalition support:

• labor laws to ease hiring and firing
• a broadened value-added tax
• allowing private investment in Pemex, the national oil and gas monopoly

All three were on the reform agenda of the last president.  And the members of his National Action Party (PAN) will be the obvious allies in passing legislation.

Now, that sounds very optimistic.  A reformed Mexico with a growing economy.

But there will be plenty of obstacles in the path.  López Obrador's petulance.  PRI dinosaurs who prefer power over reform.  PAN purists reluctant  to forgive and forget.

And that is merely to say that Mexican politics may have its own unique character at times, but politics is politics the world over.

So, congratulations to the winners.  Let the games begin.

 

cuatro de julio

There are times I really enjoy living in Melaque.

Such as opening to the first page of The Oregonian and finding this headline:

"Hump-day holiday a dud for travelers"

I am right with you.  Headlines are supposed to attract our attention and provide a hook summary of the news content.  I had no idea what to expect.

But it worked.  I read the article.  Now, I wish I hadn't.

The article was about the great dilemma faced by American workers and the "leisure activities" industry.  And what is the genesis of this angst?

For the first time in five years -- the Fourth of July falls on Wednesday.  My goodness!  Can you believe it?  No wonder the world is falling apart.

Workers are torn whether to give up a full week of precious vacation time or to simply stay at home for the stand-alone holiday.  One of the few holidays that is still tethered to a specific day.  The fact that "Fourth" shows up in the title is a hint.

Hotels are reporting a lack of bookings.  Campgrounds have open spots.  Airlines have open seats.  What is a nation to do?

Of course,it is easy for me to make mock.  The Fourth of July is not a big holiday in Mexico (except in some of the American reservations that dot the country).  Americans may have stolen Cinco de Mayo from Mexico (a holiday almost unknown here), but the Mexicans have very little interest in celebrating American independence from the Hanoverian tyrant.

But there is something else in the story that simply would not happen here.  The land of my birth seems to be turning into neurotic central.  Getting upset about a holiday on a Wednesday in Mexico would not be a problem.  If it happened here, workers would simply take the day off and stay at home enjoying festivities with their family. 

And then, they may or not show up for work on Thursday or Friday.  Amazingly, the world would keep rotating around the sun. 

Americans seem to think every day off has to be a major event.  As if they were starring in a Bertie Wooster novel.

So, I will celebrate the Fourth of July just as I celebrated the Third.  On my patio.  In the breeze.  Reading about President Polk winning a war that expanded the United States by one-third.  And left my neighbors not very interested in how many fireworks I am not going to shoot off today.

passing the first stone

I have written several times about Mexican health care.  From the minor inconvenience of de-worming to major surgery on my fractured right ankle.

Health care easily tops the list on my choice of Mexico as a retirement spot.

For about a week now, I have been restrained by a minor medical issue.  On Tuesday, I was sitting on my couch in the living room.  I started to stand up and felt a pain in my lower left back.  Now, I know "as if stuck by an ice pick" sounds like a terrible cliché.  At the time, if felt like a terrible reality.

I caught my breath and eventually stood up.  The pain was very localized on my lower left side between the hip and the rib cage.

Several friends have described the exact symptoms to me.  So, I immediately concluded I had a kidney stone.  Either that or I was giving birth to an alien.

By the next morning the pain had generally subsided.  But I decided to see a doctor.  After talking with me and examining my back, she concluded it was not a kidney stone.  But she wanted to be certain.

She asked me to drive to the lab about twenty minutes away.  And said she would have the results on her computer by the time I returned.

A quick drive and an even quicker urine sample had me ready to leave.  But not before I paid my bill.  And I pause here for you folks north of the border to savor this number.  The full charge for the lab test was $6.70 (US).  Total.

When I returned to the doctor's office, she had the results.  No blood.  No kidney stone.  Because my blood pressure was well within range, she diagnosed a sprain.

Mexican doctors are really big on vitamin B injections.  And she was more than happy to give me one right in the left hip.

To fight the sprain, she sold me a ten-day supply of prescription anti-inflammatories, and I picked up a packet of Advil (having discovered the bottle I brought south with me had expired in 2005).  All of that, plus the office visit and a bottle of water that helped me pass my urine test with flying colors, set me back only $80 (US).  Most of that was for the drugs.

I am not really concerned about why medical expenses have become so expensive in The States.  The situation is complex.  But most of it comes down to various factors that have interfered with free market mechanisms between the doctor and patient.

Those forces are in full effect here in Mexico.  And, as a result, not only are the services very effective, they are also affordable.

And that is a primary reason I am sitting on a patio in Melaque writing this instead of sitting in a hot tub in Salem.

laying down the rules

We all get them.  Those multiple-addressee email from the guy you met on the flight from Athens five years ago -- and, in a moment of weakness, gave him your email address.

They almost always arrive in batches.  Ten or fifteen at a time.  Filled with jokes of indifferent taste and wit.  Or, often, merely, a link to an article with a cryptic "this says everything" or something equally noncommittal on the part of the sender.

I have several good friends who send me the "link" emails.  Because I know them well, I usually understand exactly why the link came my way.

For some reason, I am starting to receive similar messages in my blog "comments" section.  Four of them showed up today and yesterday.  Two to the same link with almost exactly the same cryptic note.

I have not published any of the four.  And this is why. 

The comment section is for people who want to have a conversation about their reactions to the topic of a post.  This is a First Amendment free speech spot.

But we are all interested in what readers have to say.  Not what some editorial writer in Baltimore has to say or what two spinsters in Omaha rattle on about.

Readers should feel free to incorporate the thoughts of others with their own.  We all do that.  Some people, like Joe Biden, seem to forget that the thoughts came from someone else.  But readers need to put their own arguments out there on the firing line for people to discuss without hiding behind the shield of a third person's opinion.

Of course, there are rules of etiquette to follow here.  We discuss issues, not personalities -- despite my cheap shot at Joe Biden.  Issues are open to all forms of polite discourse.  Attacking personalities with emotion-laden labels is simply an admission of running out of reason.

There is another reason to minimize links in comments.  They are perfect Trojan horses for bad cookies.  To mix my electronic metaphors.

Let me pile on one more reason.  I have worked on enough "letter to the editor" committees in political campaigns to know the source of many of these "link" posts.  This blog has little interest in becoming just another message board for campaign-directed propaganda.  We like to generate our own political propaganda.

So, here is the deal.  Political posts will undoubtedly appear on mexpatriate between now and the American elections in November.  Feel free to support your respective candidates and issues with your own rational arguments and Marquess of Queensberry rules.

Because I undoubtedly will do the same. 

ballots and bottles

Unless the Mexican people have been pulling an incredible hoax on the pollsters, Mexico's next president will be Enrique Peña Nieto.  The man who has had a commanding lead in the polls since he officially started running last September.

I wrote briefly of the race three weeks ago in am I lying -- or have my lips stopped moving?,  and nothing much has changed.  It appears that the party Mexicans learned to loathe (PRI) will be returning to executive power.  Whether or not the party will have a working majority in the Chamber of Deputies or the Senate will be decided by the voters on Sunday.

I have my sentimental favorites.  But Article 33 of the Mexican constitution clearly states: "Foreigners may not in any way participate in the political affairs of the country."  Under the same article, the president has the authority to deport any foreigner -- without recourse to legal action.

Because I like living here, you will hear no endorsements from me.  But that does not prevent me from sharing some of the politicking that has taken place over the past two months -- the official campaigning period for the offices of president, congress, governor, and regional offices.

Some campaign techniques are very familiar to Americans.  Such as, billboards.  Where pretty women once lured customers into buying cellular telephone hours, somewhat less congenial faces flog political confidence.

What was far too familiar to my American ears were the televised presidential debates.  They were as boring as Sunday morning discussion shows.

There is a reason for that.  Much discussed by Mexican political commentators.  The major political parties are not driven by ideology.  Certainly, their candidates are not.  Elections are about personality.

And that is why splashing names over everything is so important.  Or yelling through sound truck speakers all day long. 

When I first moved here, I was surprised to discover the number of political advertisements painted on walls.  Some on the fronts of house.

I assumed the wall owners were committed supporters.  A Mexican friend disabused me of that notion.  Some are supporters.  But most people allow the signs because they receive a nice payment for the advertisement space.

I have no idea if PRD purchased this space.  But the combined message has always struck me as a bit jarring.  The happy face and AMLO, the PRD's candidate, just do not seem to be a perfect match.

And the unintended flaky impression is only slightly less jarring than PRD's choice of Bardahl yellow -- the international color of liberal parties.  If anything, PRD is the anithesis of economic liberalism.

Mexicans are just as quick to plaster advertisements of their favorite candidates on their cars.  This PAN supporter displays one of the few advertisements I have seen in favor of the PAN's candidate for president: Josefina Vázquez Mota.  Probably doomed to finish in third place on Sunday.

And a small sticker it is.

This car sticker initially threw me.

"I go with Jesus."  At first, I thought some religious group was doing a riff on the election.  Until I followed this bus through town.

Jesus is the PAN's candidate for president of our "county."

But his banners are certainly not as classy as those for Peña Nieto.  They almost look like posters for a movie premier.  A look appropriate for a matinee-handsome candidate and his television star wife. 

You may recall he was the candidate, while campaigning at a book fair, who could not think of three books that had influenced him.  My elite friends made fun of him because of the incident.  Most Mexicans had no trouble empathizing with him.

One aspect of Mexican political posters confused me when I first saw them.  Most of the party symbols had an "X" drawn them.  I thought it was the graffiti work of opponents.

It turns out the "X" means just the opposite.  A large number of Mexicans are illiterate.  The "X" is a pictograph to mark the treasure.

And treasure there is.  Rumors abound in town that pesos are to be had by taking a cell phone to the ballot box to document a correct vote.

I know nothing of that.  But I do know alcohol is not on sale today or tomorrow.  One of those rather hollow symbolic moves to add a note of sobriety to the great democratic drama.

It has been fun watching this election from my almost-nonpartisan vantage point.  The more interesting show is yet to come with the change of power in December.

There may be a lot of talking to Jesus.