Confession Time

Woo, I wrote a really strong blog and Lori the wife said to delete it so I did. It was sorta about all this local discrimination against Mexicans and I'll leave it at that. I guess I am truly blessed to have somebody look over my shoulder and make sure I don't piss off the whole Island, or worse yet half the entire Valley. In four easy moves the offending blog article was vaporized. I confess, and feel like a better person for it. A story untold is better than my dorky words, anyway. Back onto the extreme art of body surfing and "combat" fishing when there ain't no body-surfing waves. Hold on Lori Marie, I'm a-coming home!

P.S., the locals won't let me fish AND surf at the same time just yet, but we're working on it ... apparently me and the weather just ain't "right" yet. ;)

Home Run

I guess I shouldn’t have written about how bad air travel can be, since everything went wrong between here and Maine and back, including missing luggage, weather delays, and mysterious plane refueling going on in unscheduled airports. Poor “In-Continental Airlines” really proved that the US should take over all the airlines, maybe excepting Southwest. Oh, and a great family reunion by the way – it was over 4 years.

But I finally made it back and at nearly midnight the Island and the Rio Valley looked beautiful on the landing approach. To the east, SPI looked like a fragile crescent that included the causeway. To the west, the twinkling lights of Valley seemed to stretch to the horizon like LA. I looked out the small airplane window and pondered where my house was, maybe halfway down the lighted part of the Island. I smiled, and knew I was almost there, twenty hours en route and one more to go.

Then I thought about all the little fights about casinos and big mega-resorts and high-rise condos and concluded that it was of little consequence, a flash in the pan. If you think that with falling retail tax sales and having less visitors, that developers can afford to pave the Island with a perverted blend of Disneyworld and casinos, you must be on crack or seriously hurt upside the head.

Just this evening we were up at Parrot Eyes (by boat, the preferred method!) and we noticed that the place was almost empty. “This place should be rocking” was our unanimous vote. Where was everybody? Sure, the beach was moderately packed and Blackbeard’s was getting almost full, but the rest of the Island was dead like October, maybe not as bad as November. Wow, that’s bad.

Heck I don’t even see people coming down the road looking for real estate anymore. There used to be quite a parade, and after five o’clock I’d drink beer and salute everyone of ‘em. I was thinking “I got a piece of the sand spit” and being all smarmy and stuff, but I knew that life in South Padre Island is tenuous enough, what with all the hurricanes and fickle economy and comical weirdness.

I smiled and drove the last 22 miles down Route 48 through all the construction barriers, and then grinned as I crossed the causeway the right direction as a chill went up my spine. Home, baby.

Down Maine Way

I’ll be heading up to Maine on Monday for a family reunion. Funny, some SOBs are headed that direction, too, and two fellows at the Island Mart said they were on the way as well. I’ve been looking for winter stuff in the garage, still packed from last year, and looking for some good foul weather gear – I think they had two days of sun in the last couple months. But hey, the weather dudes say sunny and 80, so maybe I’ll just bring some stuff from … do I really have to root around in the garage, really? Fifty degrees might kill me in my “Nantucket Nut Cooler” shorts.

Lori is staying here and I don’t blame her, as I have four connecting flights each way and the prognosis doesn’t look good if one plane sneezes or farts, or if it rains in Nebraska. I sure used to love to fly. Those were the days. Last four times I flew they figured me for a terrorist and made me to the “goose dance” with my arms straight out before I could even get in the terminal. Then when getting on the plane … OK, assume the position again. I keep saying “my name ain’t Ted Kennedy” but they just don’t listen.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to have a great time seeing the folks – last reunion was 2002. I’ll be happy. But honest, folks, if you drive you’re styling first class and if you fly commercial you’re in the cattle drive. Maybe hogs. The steward yells “SOOOOOEY” to get your attention to the safety stuff. Everyone disregards that crap because if it’s a “Let’s Roll” situation we’re dead as shit already. Just give me a cold beer, mama, and don’t bother asking for money or that fake “Anyone got change for a 20?” routine. Jeez, flying really sucks these days unless you got a crop duster or a Beachcraft or something.

So after getting all worked up about how shitty flying is and was my Mom (we call her Mother) will ask “How are you doing?” I always say fine, my favorite F-word, and then we talk about the real stuff.

p.s. Sorry folks, it doesn’t look like I’ll get to Hampton Beach NH or Block Island RI this year. Natch to Essex and Clinton, CT.

Condo Mambo, Part One

I love condos, even the ones without a view of the ocean. They have a perspective you just can’t get elsewhere. I’ve stayed in a bunch over the last 15 years, and not one was bad, even a second floor bomber. But since I moved here I see things differently, maybe more confused than ever. I can’t see why condos are inherently bad, other than most are butt-ugly on the outside; I also can’t figure out if they do a darn for the local economy. Heck, all these new ones might turn out to be bad for the local economy, for all I know.

When locals hear that hallowed names like Tequila Frogs, Louie’s, Jim’s Pier, Fisherman’s Wharf, and Parrot Eyes (we call it “paradise”) will be condo-ized, one must pause for reflection. You can see why a lot of true locals – at least those not connected with the commercial land flippin’ industry – really hate high-rise condos. Rumors are that five major high-rises over 6 stories are in the works, and another five are being drawn up: there goes the neighborhood.

But change happens and these condo folks are just making a living, sometimes at great risk. There’s a story that Bridgepoint, the most famous condo on the Island, was almost a disaster because the fellow built just in time for the Texas Recession and Stock Market Crash of 1985. At first he lost his proverbial ass. If I may add, many of the pre-sold customers backed out, the peso cratered, and it was not a memorable time because I lost $30,000 in inherited stock in ten minutes – like 90 percent of all of it. But look at Bridgepoint today – getting a facelift and units selling in the high six and low seven figures. Not bad if you stayed in the game.

The question about whether condos do any good for the Island still bothers me, though. There may be more dwelling units but the population and sales taxes have been almost flat for at least ten years. What’s going on here? How can the Island be a top 10 US beach destination and still have flat activity?

I will attempt to explore the issue in future blogs. If this was a really hot market like parts of Florida (Naples) and North Carolina (Myrtle Beach), retail and food establishments should be booming because of all the condos and fancy townhomes.

Something just ain’t right.

Happy Birthday Lori!

It's that time of year again. First Lori's birthday. That's today. Tomorrow is me and then it's our anniversary.

If nothing else, and besides being the best Mom in the world for the kids, she's my best friend. That's a rare combination to find. Lori, you rock!

Thanks to Sandy Feets and Fred Mallet for your notes. This year instead of a birthday card I just printed them off.

You know those big smiles that start deep inside and spread out real slow ...?

That's the Spirit!

I think I committed a faux pas when I wrote an email saying that a local political group called SPIRIT might have stepped over the line by sponsoring an Austin company that brings in international guest workers under the H-2B program. So I got blasted because SPIRIT says it’s not political (ha!) and because this was a worthy subject: ‘They were not only well educated and fluent in English, but they were also fascinating to talk with about their home country and individual background. They could be an asset to the tourism we are trying to build.’ Good Lord, it was like I was criticizing ole Walt Disney himself!

So let’s talk about the “they” here. These would be 66,000 temporary seasonal workers in non-agricultural jobs, an annual quota implemented in 1990 to help out the resort industry. Of course, Disneyland and the Colorado ski resorts snapped them up first, with the remainder going to coastal resorts in the Northeast, like Block Island, Nantucket, and Martha’s Vineyard. These are nice, friendly, educated, articulate kids that talk with better diction than most Americans.

So I don’t mind those businesses that want to take advantage of the program, if you can even get your foot in the door, but the message I got was rather shocking: the local workforce just isn’t any good. Some and we suspect a majority are illegal. Most don’t speak rudimentary English. They drive stinky old junker cars, if they even own one. If they start drinking beer, call the cops right away. Fortunately, most leave the Island at dusk so they are not such a bother except on Friday nights when there is a fireworks show.

Do you see where I’m going? Maybe the retired folks that make up much of SPIRIT haven’t caught on that the local businesses hire such workers because they’ll work for less than a minimum wage and no benefits. It is strictly an economic decision. If they wanted to pay twelve dollars an hour for housekeepers they’d do that … if they were completely nuts. Workers in the H-2B program usually get something in the middle, like $8.50 per hour.

We know SPIRIT did not intend to jump into the proverbial tiger cage of foreign labor, or make a political statement about it, but jump they did and I don’t think they understood that even sharing information can be considered a political thing. Forgive me for trying to warn you off that dirt track.

Political Outrage

Anybody hear about the latest brouhaha in D.C.? Apparently, a known swindler, Rep. William Jefferson, D-La with shady connections in Africa, had his office raided by the FBI. I say he is known swindler because his chief of staff was just carted off to jail for bribery. This Jefferson man’s up to his eyeballs in Tiki-Pooh.

Yet the nabobs in the House of Representative went ballistic along with the Senate, saying there was a “separation of powers” and the FBI needed to give all the files and moolah back to Jefferson, based on the US Constitution.

Folks, the separation of powers applies to the US Congress and not individual congressmen and congress women. Where is the outrage that these folks, highly paid PUBLIC SERVANTS, should each be above our laws?

That’s right, they’re PUBLIC SERVANTS not some members of a secret club that can deal in hush money, kickbacks, and all kinds of influence peddling. With public approval of Congress in the range of 30% and the Presidency not doing much better, you’d think they’d do a little better.

I’m not going to make any accusations, but the same attitude and impression seems to be going on with the Cameron County Commission voting into a sweetheart deal with Doyle Wells to commercialize our local crowned jewel, Isla Blanca Park.

I say kick all the bums out! On Memorial Day, 2006, it is time to reflect on those that lost their lives to defend our country, and what we’re defending it for … and it ain’t the greedy politicians on the take.

Fake SOBs Spotted on Island

It has come to attention that some yahoos are calling themselves "locals" and even "Sons of the Beach." An example is shown above, him of course hiding behind his Whopper. I mean, I've lived here almost a year but I don't claim to the either or both, other than having fun meeting the real locals and SOBs. But honest, folks like in the picture there, that is WAY too much (thanks to Jules at her 'Bruni Digest' blog for the fake SOB picture). Is this some kind of ploy to convince the gals we need more "renting" in the E District? I shudder at the thought ...

Tiki Queens

A good time was had by all at the Tiki 'Lighting of the Torch' shebang at Palm Street. Thanks to the kayakers, conga drummers, Malcom the old Tiki King, singers (yes, those Sirens rock!), and of course all the folks, who seemed to number about 60-80 at times. Oh, and we even had a pro Polynesian dancer named Caroline, I think was her name. Here's a picture of two of the Sirens warming up before the show - Nancy and my Tiki Lori.

Did I mention that fireworks went off at 9:15, as if orchestrated just for us?

This year's Queen of the Sargassum is JoAnn Evans. Next year Nancy wants to do a 'Turtle Ball' but by most accounts, folks wanted to continue April Arbor Day and May Tiki Day festivals we inspired. As yes, light the Tiki torches maybe Friday and a formal ball on Saturday ... hopefully it will be OK to tango!

Bad Fences, Bad Neighbors

Well this one ought to get your all stirred up – how about building hundreds of miles of fences on the border to keep out the Mexicans? Today the US Senate approved a measure to authorize 370 miles of fencing and the House has already approved 700 miles. Naturally, nobody knows where the money – appropriations – is going to come from. It is sure to cost billions by any estimates, not including patrolling and maintaining the suckers.

I already know why folks want such a fence, since it makes the (you fill in the blank here) feel good. “Good fences are good neighbors.”

OK, but at what cost? Sure, border apprehensions in the Tijuana District went from 100,000 a year to a few thousand today, but the coyotes and folks are just moving their routes to Arizona … and coming in bigger numbers and having more deaths in the desert. So, do I get this right, we will build a few hundred miles of fence to make MORE people cross the border and cause more people to die?

May I also remind the humble reader that 700 miles of fencing, as dictated under the House plan, would stretch from Atlanta to Chicago. Wow, that’s a big ole DMZ (demilitarized zone, but extremely militarized). See, plans are for three fences, each behind each other. One is a favorite for the frontline is to use old aircraft landing pads made of steel, which is no longer any good, to make vertical panels. This is so the drug dealers and coyotes can’t crash their vehicles through the fence. The picture shows the welded landing panels at the Pacific side south of San Diego. You can just imagine it at the Gulf where the Rio Grande comes out – you know, the border.

Then, there’s a 12-15 foot fence made of barbed wire, called “Sandia wire” for the inventors at Sandia Labs. Nice touch. The final coup-de-grace is a regular cyclone fence with curved compound wire on top. The entire triple fence system is over 150 feet wide, allowing border patrols and the military to conduct their operations, patrols, and raids. Of course, the fence system is just bristling with motion, light, heat, pressure, and other remote sensing devices, which requires a lot of teckies and geeks. Heck that’s a lot of resources we’re talking here, when you talk about mountains, deserts, streams, cables, computers, and so forth.

My point is not that anything is good or bad – sorry for sounding sarcastic – but that it costs a lot to construct, operate, and then figure out if it did any good for the investment. As a businessman I face these questions every day. For example, over the last week I was going to purchase some data software for $11,000 … that would make me exactly $11,000 in cash, thereby with absolutely no profit. I apologize in advance if I feel that way about this subject too.

Gold

The gold plumerias are back to doing pretty good, after being sorely abused last year when moving down here to South Padre Island. So are the other babies. They've been fertilized some but need some cow chit and three inches of mulch - and maybe some real rain instead of Mr. Sam the Hose Man here.

The yellows and golds come first, with the pinks and whites to follow, and the reds are always last. Strange how it seems to work that way everywhere around here ...

I'm down to 13 plumerias after leaving Austin, from a total of 21. Yes, a wee bit excessive, eh? But they are a fun hobby, and can handle the worst weather except for a hard freeze. Oh, and they smell pretty darned good, too! Nannette has me saving flowers for a Lei for the Tiki Ceremony this weekend.

Tiki Time Again

TAWHIRI is the name of the Tiki God of wind and storms and rain. I was hoping for some Tawhiri action today because of huge thunderheads that built up in the 100-degree heat but dissipated once they got within 20 miles of my house. According to the weather gurus, we’re between 3 and 13 percent of where we should be as to rainfall - out here on the Island I’d say at the lower end of the scale. I think we get more dampness from dew than rain! What’s up with this?

Maybe it is because Disneyland invented a fake rain goddess called HINA KALUNA for their “Tiki Room.” According to the Tiki experts, no such goddess exists. Darn those corporate mythologists, Charlie Brown.

It is getting so bad we even wished for tropical storms. Hurricane Emily came in last July and we got nothing over a quarter inch of rain – on the “wet side” of the storm. How can this be?

Anyway, we’ll be having a Tiki “Lighting of the Torch” party on May 20 so come on down if you want … more details to come. And if Tawhiri comes on down as well, we’ll be inside at Palm Street Pier.

Mrs. Whip

I was reading the Southern Brewing News and came across an article about a place in my old home town, the Whip In. And yes, there was a lady we called Mrs. Whip, although no, we’re not talking some kind of fem-dom perversion here because they had the best micro-brew and hard-to-find beer anywhere. Strange wine collection like from the Middle East, not to mention they also had some of the best groceries from India, Pakistan, Thailand, and so forth – in a freakin’ convenience store! If you think I’m still kidding check them out at The Whip In

It is located down in South Austin by Oltorf Street, right off Interstate 35. The easiest is heading south, where one would take the Woodward exit. Anyway, the shop has come a long way over the last 20 years and is a true Austin institution.

If you’re in the area on May 7th, there’ll be a big hoedown at the Continental Club, which is of course the funkiest place to see real music in Austin. That’s where folks like Joe Ely and Los Lonely Boys hang out.

And don’t worry folks, just a touch of nostalgia … OK, I miss Mrs. Whip and her cheerful smile, too. And most of all her secret whip.

Lots of Feral Cats

Yes, we have outside cats and feral cats. It’s against the ordinances, like you have to keep them inside or on a leash. How ridiculous, we’re allergic as hell to cats and come on, a leash? But we always adopt one or two and get them all neutered and fixed up by the vet.

It was getting a little out of hand … I suppose cats have been hanging out here since 1970. So I called the Town and got one of those traps. The scruffy yellow cats needed a visit to the vet real bad – and hopefully a new home.

Now we had adopted a neutered male named Al, and he’s real dumb. Dumb as dirt. We caught him every night. There he’d be in the morning, licking his paws and asking to come out for a pat and a pee. F-ing Al is what we call him now.

The local Town guy who does the traps said that if you feed the cats, they’re yours. I tried to argue but that’s silly – do those possum belong to me too? How about the feral dogs and coy dogs? Jeez, all we do is make the cats fat so they won’t eat all the birds.

Come inside, Miss Pit Bull might have something to say! But on our walks, the cats dutifully follow us up and down the road like a parade. Al and the dogs sniff each other’s dookie and it is quite a sight, as we steer them to the “safe havens” of empty lots so some whacko redneck won’t call the cops for shitting in public. It is quite a challenge, all this.

Thursday 5/4 - Here's F'ing Al, who of course schnubbed me for a face picture. Instead he did a face plant in the chow. Cats!

Have Any Lies To Tell Today?

The Bay Area Task Force is using eminent domain to claim private property so they can build boat ramps. The survey of boat ramps is illegal trespassing. The entire committee is a waste of time and the $60,000 in the budget should be sent back to the Town.

No, I am not making this up. It was a coordinated attack by certain individuals who wanted to spread disinformation about our committee, of which I am a member. I will not say specifically who was involved, other than the person is a prominent member of the Laguna Madre Business Association (LMBA). Heck, they even bought and brought an attorney to help scare the dickens out of us!

It did not work as they intended, as the chairman fought valiantly back, being a lawyer himself. “Go to the Board of Aldermen if you don’t like it” was his response, “we don’t make anything other than suggestions and recommendations.” The LMBA fought this too, saying we should talk with the Town Lawyer. Again, we stated that we were a citizen’s committee and we had put a lot of time and effort into this project, and the Town Lawyer would see it later on when it reached his desk.

The only thing that was effective about the LMBA strategy was that it totally screwed up a potentially good meeting, taking almost an hour and a half of a two-hour meeting. If that is progress I’ll be darned. No, we’re not going to launch a big campaign against the LMBA because of their obvious intent to subvert a citizens planning group. But since this is my blog, I get to tell it like I see it.

Arbor Saturday - Be There?

Just a reminder we'll be at the Water Tower Park starting at 9:00 on Saturday!

How About Them O's?

The Mystery of Oleander Street was finally solved by our good neighbors, Steve and Betsy. I had said “Hey keep an eye on that car parked down there on your empty, wild lot. He could be a sancho or something worse.”

It turns out the guy is an internationally known bird photographer. He felt a little sheepish about camping on Steve’s land so he gave him a huge glossy book about raptors of the US, a truly awesome tome.

Now here’s where it gets interesting. Not only had this guy set up a bird blind, like a tent, but he also had put out grapefruit, water, and all kinds of bird goodies. We met Tom the pro birder (his tripod was worth more than all our cameras combined) and he was all excited about “the fallout.”

That’s when a spring norther comes through and the migrating birds literally hit the Island from exhaustion. I walked the dog about 2:00 and there must have been 150 birds around the bushes, in the space of about three puny Island-sized lots. There are only three primo spots on the Island, and apparently our street is one of the tops! Sheepshead and the Convention Center are the other favorites.

I wish I my cams were working, as I pointed and turned dials and the batteries all went dead. Lordy, why me and why now? But I took Lori down there after work for a gander and we saw a few Baltimore Orioles before dusk. Beautiful bird. It made her day so I got happy again.

Kiteboarders, a Commentary

The kiteboards are becoming quite a problem on the Island now, as almost any local will say – even the local kiteboarders. I got real mad one day because a passel of them swooped down on my wife and I, buzzed us real close, and one wiped out right next to us. Not good when you have nothing but a bathing suit on, just trying to enjoy some primo body surfing.

I even contacted a few kiteboard shops and the Island, since they train and rent gear, but they said that the issue was the out-of-town yahoos. All the locals know to stay like 100 feet away from people, never jump over them, stay off the beach beak, etc. The shop folks sounded not a little exasperated. Basically, there is nothing they can do on the Gulf side … I heard from one authority that you can call the Coast Guard if somebody gets hurt … wonderful.

None of the local surfers and wind surfers I talked with wanted to be named … let’s just say they’ve been here forever and in some cases almost had to open a can of Whoop-Ass because they got run over. All said it was a problem and ….

Folks, if the situation continues to get out of hand, I’m going to petition the Town for an ordinance prohibiting launching or landing any kiteboards on SPI beaches, and will seek a MOU with Cameron Parks on Isla Blanca Park there, too. None of us want this to happen. Regulating fun is not our goal … but safety IS our concern.

Arbor Day Celebration

Come on down for a double-whammy on Saturday, April 29th. The state-sponsored beach cleanup starts at 8:00 and one of the gathering locations is the Water Tower Park (look for the huge blue water tower mid-town).

Later in the morning we'll be setting up for an informal Arbor Day celebration with a plant swap, some local urban forestry gurus, maybe a famous author, and more ... things are still coming together. Native plants will be a main focus, and some landscape companies are being invited. This should last until the early afternoon.

Did I mention there are restrooms, water, and maybe some freebies? Heck, sometimes the County will even throw a weenie roast! So come on down, clean a little beach, and buy a native Texas plant ... see you there.

Yellow Sophora

My, I’ve become quite the budding little naturalist lately! This little fella here grows in the empty field next door and is quite beautiful – the picture does not capture all its charm. A story: the mowers came with a huge “brush hog” tractor one day and yours truly was standing in defense of the poor critter … the mower ended up three feet away and we were saved by the boss heffe, who told the operator he had the wrong field (shrug).

Anyway, if they develop the land next door those two plants, also known as the Necklace Pod Sophora, is mine. Plant ID seemed reasonable after consulting the Native Plant Project and the Aggie native plant database. Here's some links:

Texas Native PlantDatabase
Native Plant Project

According to these folks, the shrub should grow up to 6 or twelve feet tall. National Arbor Day is Friday April 28; support your native plant resources.