O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree ...

... however brown your branches.

Some of you had asked for a follow up on our Christmas tree buying experience and how well the tree faired during the holidays. Well, for about the first two weeks, it actually looked pretty good. That took it through about December 14.

But almost overnight, like Santa sliding down a dirty chimney, the poor thing turned brown (even with daily feedings of agua).

Keep in mind, we had the 6 foot noble on our patio. It was a good thing. Had it been in the house, it was so dry by December 20th, we would have had to take it down. By December 25th, the branches were sagging so severely, two ornaments slid off and crashed onto the floor.

And on December 26th, our first experiment with a Mexican Christmas tree came to an end. It didn't live to see the New Year (truth be told, it didn't live to see Christmas Eve). Anyway, we hauled the brown carcass out of here, loaded it onto the elevator, to the main floor, where condominium workers hauled it away. We still think of it almost daily, though. That's because we're still finding brown needles, not just in our unit, but all the way through the lobby and garage where apparently, it was picked up by the garbage trucks for an unceremonious dumping at the Puerto Vallarta landfill.

Mexican Christmas Tree Shopping

Something just didn't feel right. Granted, Tuesday morning started like most others here. The sun rose on a cloudless day ... 73 degrees at 7:00 AM. We dressed the way we do every other day ... shorts, t-shirts, sandals. We had our morning coffee as we watched a Princess Lines cruise ship slowly slide into port. But today would be different, because in this tropical slice of the world, where the high is predicted to be 85, we are going Christmas tree shopping … a tradition that until this year usually took place in the chilled fog of the valley or the Bay, or the rains or snows of the Sierra.

It was the week before Thanksgiving when we were surprised by seeing Douglas pine and noble trees popping up at supermarkets, Wal-mart, Costco, and Home Depot here in Puerto Vallarta. While there are several poinsettia lots here, loaded with thousands of the holiday plants, the concept of Christmas tree lots hasn't arrived here yet. And as for tree farms, they're hours away. It seems pines don’t grow so well in the tropical jungle.

Poinsettia lots, but no tree lots

And so the search for the perfect tree began. It’s Mexico style Christmas tree hunting. It is different.

First of all, at every place you visit that sells trees, only one of each kind of tree is on display. For example, Costco had two types … tall nine foot nobles for US$69 , and smaller seven foot nobles for US$53. So the two trees were on display. The one you actually end up buying is wrapped up in twine, and you have no idea what it actually looks like until you take it home and unwrap it there. They figure it’s really not much different than buying a box of raisin bran. You wouldn’t open the box at the store to see how many raisins are in it. You have to wait until you actually buy it, then you find out.

Anyway, the trees at Costco were too big, so we went next to the grocery store, Soriana, which also had trees, inside the store in front of the check out counters. Though the price was right (about US$20), not one of the trees was even unwrapped. And when you touched the tightly bounded branches, the needles fell like snow. We passed.

We next stopped at Sam’s Club where we found large nobles that had just been reduced in price to US$26 … and for good reason. I’ve thrown out trees in January that were fresher than the ones Sam’s Club was selling. If you wanted a green tree from Sam’s, we would have had to have bought a can of green spray paint to cover the brown brittle needles. I thought the poor thing must have looked good last Christmas, but even that I wasn’t sure of.

Finally, before heading back to Costco and buying a tree that was much too large, we went to Home Depot. There, standing right outside the Home Depot entrance, stood three promising specimens. From the parking lot we saw the medium size noble, a tall noble, and a Douglas fir. As we approached, we got the first scent. They smelled like Christmas trees. And when the touched the branches on the medium size noble, the needles were like velvet (well, not really, but compared to Sam’s Club and Soriana, they were soft enough). They had a small tent set up outside the store, so we walked in. And there, stacked on their sides, were mounds of fresh cut trees.

Now, they do things differently here. There is no attendant at the Christmas tree “lot.” So you have to go inside the store, wait in line, tell them what you want. Then someone else comes and gets you, takes to out to the tent, you point out to them what pile of trees you want yours to come from, they take you back in the store, write up a receipt, then you stand in line again to pay (449 pesos, about US$34). Then you go back outside to the tent and wait for the official tree cutter to arrive. About ten minutes later, a kid who looked like he skipped grade school for the day shows up wearing an orange Home Depot apron explaining he would be our tree cutter. He lifts the tree onto a table made from saw horses, and with an electric chain saw, he cuts about an inch of the base. Next he attaches the stand. That’s the challenging part. Nobody probably ever showed him, and I wasn’t paying much attention, but he nailed stand into the trunk of the tree upside down. Proudly, he lifted the tree off the table, placed it on the ground, and it nearly fell over. This was a problem.

He couldn’t remove the stand himself, so he called the Home Depot Christmas tree manager, who eventually showed up with another employee. Like the Three Stooges, they pulled, prodded and pried for about 5 minutes until they finally got the backwards stand off. The manager then put on the new stand and water bucket (held into place with a nail), and then placed it on the ground … a little crooked, but OK. We had our tree, even though we still had little clue what it looked like.

Tree shopping in shorts & sandals.

When we got home, we cut away the twine to get our first view of our first Mexican Christmas tree. As the limbs unfurled, the smell of fresh pine permeated our home. It was actually fresh and green and looked every bit as good as any tree we had ever purchased in the US. I thought the Mexican people had really discovered the secret to growing a great tree. Then, as the tightly bound top branches finally opened, I discovered their success. There was the yellow plastic tag with the name of the grower … from Salem, Oregon.

A truly historic moment

It was exactly 10:00 PM here last night in Puerto Vallarta when the polls closed in CA, OR, and WA. At that moment, CNN, beamed into homes and restaurants and bars by satellite, announced Barrack Obama had garnered enough electoral votes to become President elect of the United States. The cheers here were literally loud and long. It is the way much of the world is looking at the transition about to take place in what had been the most respected country in the world.

Several articles this morning, including those in the New York Times and USA Today, reflect the worldwide hope that the President-elect will be able to begin the long process of mending the image of the United States ... an image that has been tarnished in recent years.

In USA Today, French President Nicolas Sarkozy said Obama's election "has raised enormous hope in France, in Europe and beyond. France and Europe will find a new energy to work with America to achieve peace and world prosperity," Sarkozy said.

As the win brings hope for many, the election of Obama has only intensified bitterness and hatred among a few. CBS Radio this morning ran an interview with a McCain supporter in Phoenix saying Obama does not deserve to be President and should not be in the White House. "He is not my Commander in Chief and he never will be," she said. And Daniel Carver, a leader in the KKK, told Howard Stern this morning that Obama's election will likely lead to a great resurrection of the Klan to deal with the rising power of blacks.

While each election is historic, the importance often not realized until long after the elected President leaves office, the circumstances surrounding the election of Barrack Obama make this election truly unique right now, not just in the United States.

No matter how you voted, no matter your opinion of the outcome of the Presidential election, I think most would agree that today is a time for reflection on where this country has been, where we are now, and where we are heading.

Four years from now, or eight years from now, when Obama is set to leave office, the best we can hope for is being able to say we are better off, and the image of the US is better off than we are today at this truly historic moment in time.

How things have change ... or have they?

How has your life changed since June 17th?

On the down side, if you're like me, you've probably lost a good chunk of your 401K or IRA. But, on the up side, perhaps you had a week or two off for summer vacation you spent with your family ... maybe traveled to the mountains or the beach. Certainly, you are a bit older, and perhaps a bit wiser. But it's likely that as you look back at it, probably things are pretty much the same now as they were four months ago.

Which is understandable, even though on June 17, 2008, the first same-sex marriages took place in California. Since then, according to The Sacramento Bee, an estimated 11,000 same sex couples have legally wed.

Now, you might remember, after the Supreme Court ruled in May that same-sex weddings were legal in California, opponents predictably cried fouled. They expressed concerns that churches opposed to gay marriage would lose their tax exempt status, that second and third graders would be taught that it's perfectly OK for two boys to get married, and they argued that it would erode the sanctity of traditional marriage between a man and a woman. These are pretty much the same arguments being used now in the $27-million dollar "Yes on 8" campaign, funded almost exclusively by out of state religious organizations (the Mormon Church and Knights of Columbus are the leading contributors).

The reality is, since the first "Adam & Steve" and "Sarah & Eve" said "I do," none of those threats has materialized. No church has been threatened, second and third grade boys are not being encouraged to walk hand in hand toward the alter, and no heterosexual marriage has been devalued or dissolved (at least not as a result of 11,000 same sex couples tying the knot).

Which gets us to where we are now.

I really had no intention of writing this blog until last week when I talked to someone who is extremely close to me, someone who I have known all my life, who told me he is voting "Yes" on Proposition 8. I was disappointed that someone who knows me and knows my partner, Kurt, as well as he does would want to go so far as to change the California constitution to deny equal rights to us. It is clear to me that in the eyes of this person, I am not equal. And to me that is very sad and troubling on a personal level.

Those of you who have known me (and Kurt) over the years know that we are law abiding upstanding caring people, good neighbors, close to our families, conscientious co-workers, good friends, and contributors to the community. Those who know us very well know that we share an exceptional relationship. As one of my former co-workers at News10 told me, "You guys have a better relationship than most of the married couples I know."

We also respect others including those with divergent views. As a reporter for more than 30 years, I regularly sought out those with opposing views. And I truly respect the freedoms that this great country provides its citizens in voicing those views ... as long as they don't hurt others or infringe upon the rights of others.

And when it comes down to it, that's pretty much what Proposition 8 does. It takes away the rights of a group of Americans. It legalizes discrimination in the constitution of California.

My friends, (now I sound like John McCain), I certainly respect your right to voice your opinion, to vote your conscience, not just on Proposition 8 but on all the issues facing us. But when it comes time for you to cast your vote on Proposition 8, think of Kurt & me and think of the type of people we are ... what we have meant to you over the years ... how we have contributed. And if you agree that we deserve to have the same rights that most other Americans have, I would request that you vote "No" on Proposition 8.

As always, I welcome your responses.

Bringing The Bee to its knees

You could usually hear it before you would see it. The bright orange blob lumbering around the corner every afternoon about 3:00. Lurching down Valley View Avenue, it looked like some kind of a big box atop four big black tires. The driver barely slowed as he heaved two bulging stacks of freshly printed paper, each held together with a thick wire, onto the driveway of the house across the street. Its deed done here, the truck sped off to its next drop, the faded lettering on the back of the truck, "San Jose Mercury/San Jose Evening News," nearly invisible through the dirt and grime.

It wasn't at News10 in Sacramento. Nor was it at KHSL-TV in Chico, or KPCO in Quincy, or KCSB-FM in Santa Barbara or The Daily Comet at James Lick High School in San Jose where I first delivered the news. It was those summer afternoons as a kid, helping fellow-kid and neighbor Robbie Habernicht (whose route it was) deliver the The San Jose Evening News on our Schwinns.

Under the thin wire that banded each stack of papers which were still warm from coming off the presses, was a cover sheet. It contained routing information, making sure the driver dumped the right stack at the right spot. But clip the wire, remove that sheet, and there it was. One day it would scream "BLAST LEVELS JC PENNEY-3 DIE." Another day, "HOLLYWOOD STAR MANSFIELD DECAPITATED." Another, "BRINK OF SOVIET WAR," or "MAN ON THE MOON." We were the few privy to get a glimpse of the day's news hours before it would be unfurled on driveways and doorsteps. Only on the rarest of occasions did we actually sit and read an article (I think the Jayne Mansfield was one of those). Our job was to hurriedly secure each single paper with a rubber band, jam them into burlap sacks, then fling those sacks over the back of our bikes and be on our way to bring the news to our neighborhood . This was important stuff. And there was an important method in that delivery.

People who tipped would get their papers placed on the front porch. Those who didn't tip, but were nice enough anyway, had their papers thrown onto the driveway. Then there were the others ... those who never seemed to have money to pay you when you went around each month collecting; those (usually grumpy old men) who would yell at you and raise their canes as you cruised down their street on your Sting-Ray; those who would say "I don't know why you're delivering me this crap, it's the same damn thing everyday," then tell you they could pay you with a bag of walnuts (these are the same people who gave you a penny when you came trick or treating). For those people, their paper came "special delivery."

There was the "grand slam." Instead of gently tossing the paper, you'd do the best Sandy Koufax you could muster and zing the paper onto the driveway, preferable exposed aggregate. The result would be a badly deformed paper that would be difficult to open without ripping. Added points were given when the paper, after impacting the pavement, actually skidded a few yards, etching away the print.

There was also the "wet willie." In the days before automatic water systems, it was always a treat to see that old man Johnson had turned on his front lawn sprinklers to give his picture perfect yard that fresh evening look. With proper timing of our delivery, it also meant that instead of reading how the San Jose Bees were fairing, old man Johnson would be scooping up a soggy pile of pulp that just an hour earlier had been his newspaper.

There were some carriers who would throw the paper with such force into a screen door that it would dent it (hmmm, somehow my grandparent's delivery boy seemed to enjoy that bit of revenge). And there were those who loved to toss it onto the roof. We avoided both of those scenarios because fixing the door could get expensive and if some old man fell off a roof getting his paper he might get hurt. At that young age, we did have a conscience. Puny, but it was a conscience.

I am retelling this blissful childhood experience because of something I read today in The Sacramento Bee. The capital city's only major daily newspaper is offering buyouts to 55% of its full time staff, including many in the editorial department (that means reporters, editors, photographers). Two months ago, 86 Bee employees were given pink slips. By all accounts, after this next cost cutting move, the Bee will be decimated. Its news coverage, already suffering from previous layoffs, will deteriorate further. Colleagues I have talked with wonder whether or not at this point The Bee can survive.

Perhaps as disturbing as the prospect is that Sacramento could become a newspaperless town is the online reaction from readers, many of who are simply gushing at the demise of The Bee. State workers angered over the Bee's recent posting of state workers' salaries are among the most celebratory.

"Good riddance," writes robertcameron. "None of you will be missed. Welcome to (sic) unemployment line."

"This paper is such a rag," says Bordeau. "Good Bye and Good Riddance."

Another said it didn't matter to him. He nevers reads the Bee and gets all his news from FOX News (perhaps lost is the irony that he apparently did read the story on Sacbee.com and took the time to write about it).

Folks, there is nothing, absolutely nothing surrounding the serious problems at The Sacramento Bee that should bring joy to anyone.

Over the past three decades, I have worked alongside and with some of The Bee's journalists, and in fact for several years back in the 1970s was a Bee "Correspondent," writing stories from the hinterlands of California. Walt Wiley and Bill Carr in the early days. More recently, people like Sam Stanton, Mareva Brown, Ken Chavez, David Barton, Mark Glover, Andy Furillo, Rick Kushman, Cynthia Hubert, Art Campos, Bryan Patrick, Randy Pench, Jennifer Garza, Sam McManus, and many others. These are hard working journalists who yes, may step on some toes, may expose things that others don't want exposed, and may at times not share my or your viewpoint. But they have done their job and have done it well. And for 150 years, The Bee has served Sacramento and northern California with quality reporting, stimulating opinions, and a commitment to the truth.

When there was talk a while back that the Kings may leave Sacramento, the outcry was loud and widespread. How could they? Sacramento would be considered a hick town. The Capital City would lose its stature. I guess that shows the sorry state of society. There is such an uproar over a sports team leaving town, yet when the city's only major watchdog and source of information is threatened, there is barely a whimper. Sacramento should be up in arms.

For those of you taking pride in putting a stake through the heart of the region's largest daily newspaper, don't come crying down the road when your city council passes some inane ordinance and you didn't know about it. Don't whine when no one shows up to report on the efforts your church is making to improve the community. Don't yell foul when you can't find the box scores to last night's Kings game. Without The Bee, government becomes more powerful, the people become weaker (and don't try to say "Oh, but the government is the people." It simply doesn't work that way).

The days of old man Johnson grumbling about a newspaper that's all wet because the hoodlums that deliver it threw it into his sprinklers are long gone. But some semblance of the newspaper industry can hopefully survive. And to the fine residents of Sacramento who are about to throw a block party if and when The Bee folds ... don't expect FOX News to be there to cover it.

Can I turn the TV off now?

It has not been a good year for the United States. The deep financial crisis on so many levels continues to impact a large chunk of Americans, rich, poor and especially those in between. The scar known as Iraq also continues, claiming young lives and poisoning the thoughts of the world toward the US. As the John McCain ad says, "Washington is broken, John McCain knows it. We're worse off now than we were four years ago." Whew!

But during the past eight days (eight days and eight gold medals) the slumping economy, the mess in the Middle East has been softened by Beijing ... and Michael Phelps.

Today, we took a boat to the small beach town of Las Animas south of Puerto Vallarta. Off season, we were about the only non-natives there. But before long, a large tourist boat packed with Mexicans arrived, the moms and dads and kids bouncing off for a day at the beach.

In the line of folding chairs facing the slapping surf, a man chose the seat next to me. Speaking nearly perfect English, he said he was vacationing with his family from Guadalajara. A chemist for an international pharmaceutical firm, he was educated in Mexico City and Chicago. He loved being in the U.S., he said, adding he felt sorry about what is happening there now. He mentioned the economy, and how it is impacting not just the US but Mexico and the world. And he raised the thorny issue of Iraq, asking (as we have heard so many times) how Americans could let something like that happen. "It just does not seem like something that is what people in your country do," were his exact words. Then came the uniting question.

"Did you watch Michael Phelps? Oh my God (a favorite saying here) he is amazing. What pride you must have." Yep, really amazing ... historic ... uniting ... yes, proud (like I had a hand ... or a stroke ... with his performance).

But think about it. For a moment, there has been no economy, there has been no Iraq, there has been only Michael Phelps. Like a fresh summer breeze blowing out stagnant noxious air. Michael Phelps.

Well, our lunch came so I went off to eat (fresh fish quesadillas ... yum), and he went off to be with his family, graciously saying how much he enjoyed talking again with an American (even if it was an American who now lives in Mexico).

Fast forward to tonight, watching Phelps being interviewed by Bob Costas, reliving not merely a surreal experience but an historic one. It's tough not getting teary eyed. It's like you want him to live next door, invite him over for a beer (OK, maybe not a beer since he had a DUI four years ago but you get the idea). He seems like a normal guy, except for all those gold things hanging around his neck.

Anyway, I know, there is another full week of Olympics ... amazing feats of competition among the brightest athletes in the world. But maybe it is best if we all turn off our TVs now and relish the Phelps phenomenon. After all, it can't get any better ... and pretty soon we'll be back to the news of foreclosures, bankruptcies, lay offs, and oh yes, that thing in Iraq.

Canada takes the gold! USA wins the silver! Mexico is eliminated.

OK, so there hasn't been any real 2008 Olympic event (yet) where that has been the outcome. But when it comes to TV coverage of the Olympics, if I was the sole judge sitting in the review box, I'd have to give the edge to ... the CBC. However, NBC comes in a close second. And TV Azteca doesn't even rate.

Yeah, I know ... I live in Mexico ... you're saying "Has he had one too many margaritas? Does he really think he's watching the Olympics on US and Canadian channels?" Well, yes, it's magic (in Mexico we call it satellite). "OK," you're saying, "So he sees Olympic coverage from three different countries. Big deal. But why would he become a turncoat to the good ol' USA's NBC and give the thumbs up to the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Company)?"

Here's the deal. Starting Friday morning at 6:00 AM (Central time), while you're watching "The Today Show" or "KCRA Reports at 4:00 AM" or "Hello Toledo" or whatever your NBC station has on, the CBC is carrying live, in HD the Opening Ceremonies from Beijing. By the time NBC showed it, 12 1/2 hours later (15 1/2 hours later on the west coast), it was already Saturday and the games were underway ... games which were being shown live on the CBC Friday night (while NBC was showing the aging opening ceremonies).

Since we are in the central time zone, NBC does provide us with live coverage of a select few events ... we’ve seen Michael Phelps take home the gold live, tonight we’ll see US women's volleyball duo win (I hope). But more often than not, while watching a tape delayed women's gymnastics competition on NBC, on CBC and their separate sports channel, swimming and soccer are unfolding live.

Technically, both are excellent with crystal clear HD signals. And the announcers on NBC are as qualified (or as obnoxious) as those on the CBC. I want to watch NBC, but I keep going back to CBC to see what's going on now.

It's even worse for those on the west coast. I talked with my brother last night in Nevada City, CA who was frustrated that the tape delayed broadcast he was watching was three hours older than the tape delayed broadcast I was watching earlier.

Enough criticism ... remember, I awarded CBC and NBC gold and silver ... you can't get much better than that. Especially when you compare it to TV Azteca. That's the Mexican network carrying the Olympics. We get it here on Channel 7. There is really no schedule when you can find out what's on. Almost everything is tape delayed. And the video quality is, well, think of Jim McKay in Munich in 1972. It's so bad, the Mexican workers in our complex like to come in here during their break and watch the CBC or NBC in HD. They don’t understand a word the announcers are saying, but they often mutter “Imagen bonita.” Translated: “That’s one pretty picture.”

If you'd like to check out my brother's editorial in the Nevada Union on this very serious subject, click HERE.

Spectacular Summer Storms

"Slow and go on the Mexican 200 between Bucarias and Nuevo Vallarta. Along the Malecon this morning, the annual summer influx of tourists from Guadalajara is keeping speeds down . And remember, keep it at 40 kilometers per hour on both ends of the Puerto Vallarta bypass tunnel. The PV police are using radar again and they will nab you even if you're going one kilometer over the limit." If they had it, which I don't believe they do, that is likely what traffic and weather together every ten minutes would sound like on a Puerto Vallarta radio station. And it would likely conclude with the forecast ... the same forecast, day after day after day. "Mostly sunny this morning with increasing clouds by mid-afternoon. A severe thunderstorm watch is in effect from 6:00 to 10:00 tonight with the possibility of heavy rains, flash floods, and dangerous cloud to ground lightning. High today 92, overnight low 78."

It is 9:00 AM. The sunlight has just started to splash the high rise resorts across the bay. Being on the far western edge of the Central time zone and closer to the equator, it isn't until after 8:00 AM that the sun finally creeps over the mountains to the east of town to start the day. It is a beautiful crystal clear morning, clean air, with unlimited visibility. Within nine hours, that will all change dramatically. And as we are learning, with few variations, each day here during the summer is pretty much like the one before it and the one after it.

A fourth generation Californian, I am used to repetition when it comes to summer weather. Unless you're in the desert (where it's over a hundred every day), along the coast and the valleys you get the morning low clouds and fog, clearing by midday, highs from the upper 60s at the beaches to the low 90s inland. Rarely each summer, and sometime never, did we ever have the type of storms that pound this tropical city each and every day. It is fascinating.

The first rumblings are usually heard in the distance as the storms form in the tropical forest mountain range that separates this Pacific coast city from the inland valleys. It's usually around 6:00PM. If we happen to be indoors and watching TV, the next indication of the pending deluge is that the picture goes out. The heavy rain, even before it hits the ground, blocks the signal from the satellite to the dish on our roof. That tells us that within one to two minutes, the clouds will open, the skies will turn white with streaks of light, and a storm, the likes of which would flood any town in California will make its daily visit to Puerto Vallarta.

Last night's storm was one of the best yet. Following a perfect day outside, we had come indoors, showered, and sat down to watch "60 Minutes." It wasn't particularly cloudy at that point, but at about 6:20, the TV picture began breaking up. Moments later, light brighter than a flash from a camera sliced across our den, and no more than a second after that, a deafening blast that sounded like a shotgun being discharged a few feet away split the air with a rumble that shook the windows, the furniture, and the building itself. For the next hour, we were treated to the most amazing lightning storm I've ever seen.

We saw one bolt strike a high rise hotel across the bay. But the most spectacular were three large bolts in quick succession which struck the bay just off the beach. A patch of water which took the direct hit turned fiery red upon impact.

With buckets of rain falling, we could look down onto city streets that were converted into rivers. Mud flows from the mountains choked small streams that flow into the bay, leaving a mosaic of brown haze as the currents carry the storm runoff in various directions throughout the bay. Even as I went to bed at 11:30, the sky was still ablaze with distant flashes.

And this morning, no sign of what was happening here just 12 hours ago. But it's almost a forgone conclusion that this evening, there will be a repeat, though it's unlikely it will be as massive as last night's.

I didn't take pictures of last night's lightning storm ... it was too fun just watching it. But I have edited some video of another storm from a couple of weeks back. If you'd like to see the video, click HERE.

What's going on in the "The Old Country?"

After blogging on the News10 site for quite a while, I decided to branch out and develope my own blog site (partly because News10 changed its format and it's really tough to maneuver around). Here, I'll have more freedoms, unbound by the limitations on the News10 site (not that there was really anything there that was censored ... but this just feels cleaner and less restrained).

During the past few weeks, I made kind of a subconscious effort to not do anything real creative ... ie, just retreat from what I had been doing for the past 40 years. Veg, zone-out, chill, you got the idea. Reading (reading a lot), exercising (daily), movie watching, TV viewing, entertaining, small road trips ... yeah, that's been my life for the past few weeks. Ah, but today, I woke up feeling like writing ... and writing based on some conversations, observations, gleaned from South of the Border during my last month of semi-detachment

It wasn't total detachment because each night I watch ABC World News Tonight (I record it and play it back in the evening when I want to) and to a varying degree other news programs (and online publications). Immune, at least directly, from the goings on in the good old USA, I still find myself increasingly dismayed by the barrage of troubling economic news that is racking the country. Out of control inflation, recessionary-like lay offs, failing companies, record home foreclosures, bank failures, an airline industry in turmoil, falling stocks. Again, from afar, it doesn't sound or look good.

But the real revelations on how bad it is come from those I talk with who are, at this time, "living the nightmare." One of our neighbors who lives here fulltime just returned from a trip back to the US (Florida and Nevada). It was the ex-pay's first trip back to the US in a number of months. When he returned, he told us how depressing life in the old-country had become since his last visit. Prices for food and gas, he said, had sky-rocketed. For Sale and Foreclosure signs in Las Vegas had popped up faster than prickly pears on desert cactus. He said it just didn't feel good.

I also hear it in the voice from my mom, with whom I talk regularly. She's has experienced a lot in her life ... a young girl during the depression, in college during WWII, and countless other threats facing the greatest country in the world thoughout the 20th century. She tells me, without a doubt, this is the worst she has ever seen it ... so much so that she has been forced to put off some necessary purchases, cancel travel plans, and cut back on the standard of living to which she has become accustomed.

One other observation comes from one of my closest friends, a former Sacramentan who at age 74 is now retired, living in Palm Springs. Like so many others, he has much of his retirement in stocks and mutual funds. For many of us, weathering the market turmoil means waiting it out, essentially waiting for the market to bounce back. But for those who now rely on their investments for day to day living, a dramatic loss in their retirement funds means making tough decisions where even some necessities (including food purchases and heating/air conditioning) are being sacrificed.

Is all that bad? Not at all. Another friend who is a well-known designer/developer has been in China and Dubai during the past month working on multi-billion dollar complexes for the richest people of the world. Someone's got plenty of money ... it's just not the average folks that I communicate with regularly.

While distanced from the foibles unfolding in the US, we in Mexico are not immune. The value of the dollar has declined to its lowest level in all the years I've been coming here (from close to 12 pesos per dollar two years ago to below 10 pesos per dollar today). Food prices are rising, gasoline prices are rising (it cost $44 US to fill my car two days ago, a month ago it was $39 US ... though still significantly lower that the $65 it would cost in California). This is still a third world country where poverty is severe, corruption not uncommon, and amenities, while improving, are still lacking. Property values and tourism, on the other hand, continue to remain stable.

From what I see, hear, and read, the US is in for continued tough times until probably well past the election. While in the past it has weathered other economic storms, at least in our lifetime, this one appears to be as ominous as we have ever encountered. I am glad to be somewhat separated from it, but at the same time fear the my friends, family, and my own future should I ever decide to return to the place that I once called home for more than five decades.

And that's the view from afar