EB, bein' in Tejas an' all, you may already know the story, but if not, you might be interested to read up on James Bowie (a despicable character really, but oddly likeable, as well) and his relations to the Spanish-speaking population of San Antonio de Bejar. Also read about Juan Seguine, and the Tejas war of independence. Fascinatin' stuff . . .
Again, my thanks for this thread.
It has been a long time ago, but I have read about Bowie and I share your opinion of him.
spending a few days gathering info on the Colorado San Luis Valley and the land grant robbery that continues to this day. will post what I can put together. (if the mexicans would just shut up and go away WE can have the water)
Of marginal interest is that Bowie apparently picked up a fair fluency in Spanish rather early in his life, long before he fled to Tejas and married Ursula Veramendi. After some desultory slave smuggling in cahoots with Jean and Pierre Lafitte, he hit upon the scheme of forging land grants alleged to have been issued at the behest of Galvez, who had been the Spanish governor of Louisiana before its sale to the United States (and for whom Galveston--Galvez Town--was named). However, only marginally literate when it came to writing English, as it was, his documents in Spanish aroused the suspicion of Federal land agents who didn't necessarily write Spanish at all, but who were familiar with the real mccoy. When a federal judge voided all of his claims in Arkansas, he decided to get out of Dodge, which is how he eventually ended up in San Antonio, and meet the lovely Ursula.
Mexicans in Nebraska
By Dr. Ralph F. Grajeda
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The history of the Mexican people in the United States is unique among the various peoples who have immigrated to this country. In a sense it can be said that the first Mexicans did not come to this country, but that this country came to them. The United States, through its war with Mexico, extended its boundaries in 1848 to include a territory almost the size of present-day Mexico, in which lived approximately 100,000 Spanish-speaking people-most of them in the five southwestern states: Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, California, and Colorado.
The majority of Mexican Americans living today in the Midwest, however, are descendants of parents and grandparents who were part of two massive migration waves occurring since 1900: the first from 1900 to 1920, and the second from 1920 to 1930. One scholar estimates that between 1900 and 1920, the number of Mexicans immigrating to the United States equaled one tenth of the total population of Mexico.1
Victoria de Ortiz came to Nebraska with her family around 1915, having been driven from their home by political turmoil. This photograph, showing her with her year-old son, Carlos, was featured in an article about her in the Lincoln Star, dated September 26, 1920. [Nebraska State Historical Society RG3357PH]
Very few Mexicans lived in the Central Plains states prior to 1900. According to an early study of Mexican immigration to the United States, there were only seventy-one Mexicans living in Kansas in 1900, and twenty-seven in Nebraska. By 1910 the Mexican immigrant population had increased enormously to 9,429 in Kansas, and 3,611 in Nebraska.2
This growth in population can be understood in light of far-reaching and complementary changes occurring in both Mexico and the United States. In one country these changes "pushed" people out; in the other the changes "pulled" them in.
The powerful event in Mexico that pushed people to the north was, of course, the Mexican Revolution, which during the period of 1910 to 1920 caused an extraordinary amount of suffering, upheaval, and confusion. Causes of revolution are always multiple and complex. As these causes are distilled to the daily life conditions of common people, however, they reduce themselves to simple and pronounced suffering.
The Mexican Revolution began in 1910, but its root causes had existed in the country for decades. The Porfirio Diaz dictatorship in Mexico (a period that lasted thirty-one years, twenty-seven of them consecutive) brought about peace, prosperity, and opportunity, but only for a select few-and that at the expense of the peasants, the workers, and the poor. At the end of the Diaz regime in 1910, probably less than three percent of the total rural population owned any land at all. There were 834 hacendados (land owners) and approximately nine million landless peasants living under a miserable debt peonage. Of the 834 hacendados, fifteen owned more than 100,000 acres each; the hacienda of San Blas in the state of Coahuila, for example, contained almost a million acres. Despite higher prices of basic necessities, the income of the peon in 1910 was about the same as a hundred years earlier.
That revolution is often described as a peasant civil uprising, in protest of the existing economic and social conditions pressing, for the most part, on the working classes, the poor, the campesinos. With the actual beginning of the armed conflict, living conditions for many became intolerable. Many became participants in the conflict. Many-lacking for work, for food, for medical services-responded as people always have under desperate living conditions: they fled their place of birth in search of those most basic needs without which life cannot be sustained, let alone be designated as human.
The major attracting force that "pulled" the Mexican immigrant to the north was the economic development in the southwestern part of the United States at this same time, and its corresponding need for cheap labor. The latter part of the nineteenth century saw the dramatic growth of agricultural enterprises and railroad construction in the Southwest. Demands of New England cotton mills, New York garment manufacturers, and the export market stimulated cotton growing in Texas in this period. The Reclamation Act of 1902 and the construction in 1904 of the St. Louis, Brownsville, and Mexican Railways encouraged ranchers in the lower Rio Grande Valley to create huge irrigation projects to grow table vegetable crops that could be shipped to large metropolitan areas on the new railroads' refrigerator cars.3
Also, in 1897 the U.S. Congress imposed a 75 percent tax on the importation of foreign sugar, thus encouraging the development of the U.S. sugar beet industry. Hence, by 1906, sugar beet acreage in the U.S. had more than tripled from the 135,000 acres planted in 1900. By 1920 that acreage had increased to 872,000, with the Great Plains region (which includes the North Platte Valley in Wyoming and western Nebraska) producing 64 percent of the total crop grown in the U.S. From 1923 to 1932 Nebraska ranked second in the U.S., behind Colorado, in annual sugar beet acreage (74,000 acres), and first in the nation in yield per acre (12.7 tons).4 The increased need for beet laborers, which these developments required, were met by the regular and methodical recruiting of Mexican agricultural workers. Additionally, many Mexicans, on their own initiative, entered the U.S. during this period, legally and otherwise.
The first of the Mexican railroad section-hands responded to railroad recruiters and crossed the border at El Paso in 1900. Living in boxcars, they began to establish small boxcar and tent communities that since have become the community barrios throughout the Southwest and the Midwest. By 1906 several carloads of workers a week were moving into southern California, establishing colonias, and then reloading for movement to locations in Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, Idaho, Oregon, Kansas, and Nebraska. In 1908, 16,000 Mexicans were recruited in El Paso alone for railroad work. By 1910, 2,000 every month were crossing the border for railroad work.5
Mexicans in Nebraska
By Dr. Ralph F. Grajeda
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The history of the Mexican people in the United States is unique among the various peoples who have immigrated to this country. In a sense it can be said that the first Mexicans did not come to this country, but that this country came to them. The United States, through its war with Mexico, extended its boundaries in 1848 to include a territory almost the size of present-day Mexico, in which lived approximately 100,000 Spanish-speaking people-most of them in the five southwestern states: Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, California, and Colorado.
The majority of Mexican Americans living today in the Midwest, however, are descendants of parents and grandparents who were part of two massive migration waves occurring since 1900: the first from 1900 to 1920, and the second from 1920 to 1930. One scholar estimates that between 1900 and 1920, the number of Mexicans immigrating to the United States equaled one tenth of the total population of Mexico.1
Victoria de Ortiz came to Nebraska with her family around 1915, having been driven from their home by political turmoil. This photograph, showing her with her year-old son, Carlos, was featured in an article about her in the Lincoln Star, dated September 26, 1920. [Nebraska State Historical Society RG3357PH]
Very few Mexicans lived in the Central Plains states prior to 1900. According to an early study of Mexican immigration to the United States, there were only seventy-one Mexicans living in Kansas in 1900, and twenty-seven in Nebraska. By 1910 the Mexican immigrant population had increased enormously to 9,429 in Kansas, and 3,611 in Nebraska.2
This growth in population can be understood in light of far-reaching and complementary changes occurring in both Mexico and the United States. In one country these changes "pushed" people out; in the other the changes "pulled" them in.
The powerful event in Mexico that pushed people to the north was, of course, the Mexican Revolution, which during the period of 1910 to 1920 caused an extraordinary amount of suffering, upheaval, and confusion. Causes of revolution are always multiple and complex. As these causes are distilled to the daily life conditions of common people, however, they reduce themselves to simple and pronounced suffering.
The Mexican Revolution began in 1910, but its root causes had existed in the country for decades. The Porfirio Diaz dictatorship in Mexico (a period that lasted thirty-one years, twenty-seven of them consecutive) brought about peace, prosperity, and opportunity, but only for a select few-and that at the expense of the peasants, the workers, and the poor. At the end of the Diaz regime in 1910, probably less than three percent of the total rural population owned any land at all. There were 834 hacendados (land owners) and approximately nine million landless peasants living under a miserable debt peonage. Of the 834 hacendados, fifteen owned more than 100,000 acres each; the hacienda of San Blas in the state of Coahuila, for example, contained almost a million acres. Despite higher prices of basic necessities, the income of the peon in 1910 was about the same as a hundred years earlier.
That revolution is often described as a peasant civil uprising, in protest of the existing economic and social conditions pressing, for the most part, on the working classes, the poor, the campesinos. With the actual beginning of the armed conflict, living conditions for many became intolerable. Many became participants in the conflict. Many-lacking for work, for food, for medical services-responded as people always have under desperate living conditions: they fled their place of birth in search of those most basic needs without which life cannot be sustained, let alone be designated as human.
The major attracting force that "pulled" the Mexican immigrant to the north was the economic development in the southwestern part of the United States at this same time, and its corresponding need for cheap labor. The latter part of the nineteenth century saw the dramatic growth of agricultural enterprises and railroad construction in the Southwest. Demands of New England cotton mills, New York garment manufacturers, and the export market stimulated cotton growing in Texas in this period. The Reclamation Act of 1902 and the construction in 1904 of the St. Louis, Brownsville, and Mexican Railways encouraged ranchers in the lower Rio Grande Valley to create huge irrigation projects to grow table vegetable crops that could be shipped to large metropolitan areas on the new railroads' refrigerator cars.3
Also, in 1897 the U.S. Congress imposed a 75 percent tax on the importation of foreign sugar, thus encouraging the development of the U.S. sugar beet industry. Hence, by 1906, sugar beet acreage in the U.S. had more than tripled from the 135,000 acres planted in 1900. By 1920 that acreage had increased to 872,000, with the Great Plains region (which includes the North Platte Valley in Wyoming and western Nebraska) producing 64 percent of the total crop grown in the U.S. From 1923 to 1932 Nebraska ranked second in the U.S., behind Colorado, in annual sugar beet acreage (74,000 acres), and first in the nation in yield per acre (12.7 tons).4 The increased need for beet laborers, which these developments required, were met by the regular and methodical recruiting of Mexican agricultural workers. Additionally, many Mexicans, on their own initiative, entered the U.S. during this period, legally and otherwise.
The first of the Mexican railroad section-hands responded to railroad recruiters and crossed the border at El Paso in 1900. Living in boxcars, they began to establish small boxcar and tent communities that since have become the community barrios throughout the Southwest and the Midwest. By 1906 several carloads of workers a week were moving into southern California, establishing colonias, and then reloading for movement to locations in Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, Idaho, Oregon, Kansas, and Nebraska. In 1908, 16,000 Mexicans were recruited in El Paso alone for railroad work. By 1910, 2,000 every month were crossing the border for railroad work.5
continued
http://www.nebraskahistory.org/lib-arch/whadoin/mexampub/mexicans.htm
MEXICANS are among the newest residents in Canada. They began to arrive in this country in the 1950s in very small numbers. Over the years, the number of immigrants has steadily increased, particularly from the 1970s on, and they now represent an interesting cross section of the Mexican population: urban and rural dwellers of various social and economic backgrounds. Significant Mexican immigration began with the coming of a cadre of professionals, managers, technicians, and students studying at Canadian universities, largely city folk from Mexico City, Puebla, Guadalajara, San Luis Potosi, and Acapulco. Like the many highly qualified immigrants from other countries, they left their homeland, often with families in tow, to obtain better income,job satisfaction, and career mobility.
The migration or immigration of Mexican Mennonites occurred in a different and remarkable way. Between 1920 and 1940, a number of Canadian Mennonites left their self-contained world of agriculture here and moved to northern Mexico. During this period, a certain amount of return migration also took place. Drought and economic hardship were some of the prime reasons for many Mexican-born descendants of the original migrants to move back to Canada between the mid-1980s and the early 1990s.
According to the 1996 census, there were at that time 23,295 people of Mexican descent in Canada. The highest proportions can be found in Ontario (8,210) and British Columbia (5,560), followed by Quebec (5,195), and Alberta (2,455). The main destinations were this country's major urban centres and metropolitan areas.
http://collections.ic.gc.ca/heirloom_series/volume7/countries/mexico.html
Go Edgar! Just starting to browse here....
In Kensington Market on Spadina in T.O., there are both Mexican stores and Argentine stores, at which one can purchase the bric-a-brac, clothing, music and specialty foods which will remind one of home in Mexico or Argentina.
From the April issue of Smithsonian:
Recalling real story behind the fall of the Alamo
Each year some three million visitors, eager to glimpse a fabled American landmark, converge on a tree-shaded section of downtown San Antonio. In this leafy urban neigh-borhood, many of them, whether from Berlin or Tokyo or Dime Box, Texas, appear lost.
The sightseers glance from their guidebooks to a towering Hyatt Hotel, to the historic 1859 Menger Hotel, to the Crockett Hotel -- now that, they may tell themselves, sounds promising -- all hard by a drugstore, a post office, parking lots and a dingy cafe serving $5.49 chicken-fried steaks. None of this quite squares with their ideas of the place -- largely formed by movie images of John Wayne, eternally valiant in the role of Davy Crockett, defending a sprawling fortress on a vast Texas prairie in 1836.
Then tourists round a corner to find themselves facing a weathered limestone church, barely 63 feet wide and 33 feet tall at its hallowed hump, that strikes many as some sort of junior-size replica rather than a heart-grabbing monument. "The first impression of so many who come here is, 'This is it?'" says historian Stephen L. Hardin. "Of course, they're looking only at the church, not the entire Alamo," he says of the old Spanish mission that became an unlikely fortress. (The word alamo means "cottonwood" in Spanish. The mission, established in 1718 and erected on this site in 1724 near the San Antonio River, was bordered by stands of poplars.) "It does seem dwarfed by surrounding hotels. I overhear people all the time saying, 'It's so small.'"
Small it may be, but the "shrine to Texas freedom" looms large in the annals of courage. With the release Friday of the new movie "The Alamo," filmgoers far too young to remember the 1960 epic, an outsize drama showcasing Wayne as the bold frontiersman Crockett -- or actor Fess Parker's portrayal of a coonskin-capped Crockett on the 1954-55 Disney television series of that name -- may discover anew the dramatic power of a uniquely American saga.
In this case, the heroic triumvirate of Alamo defenders -- William B. Travis, James Bowie and David (as he called himself) Crockett -- are portrayed, respectively, by Patrick Wilson, Jason Patric and Billy Bob Thornton.
By no means a remake of Wayne's histrionic chronicle -- "there was hardly a line of historically accurate dialogue in it," says North Carolina State University historian James E. Crisp -- the $90 million film from Texas-born director John Lee Hancock is a graphic and largely factual rendition of the legendary battle between insurgent Texas settlers and the Mexican army.
For many Americans, the actual confrontation remains a symbol of the courage of ordinary men placed in extraordinary circumstances. Others see it as emblematic of America's territorial ambitions in an era of Manifest Destiny.
Andres Tijerina, a historian at Austin Community College, recalls the day in 1958 at Edison Junior High in San Angelo, Texas, when his history teacher finished her lesson on the Alamo by glaring at him, a kid who, like countless American youngsters, was hooked on the Fess Parker TV series and longed for a coonskin cap. "You're a Mexican," she said to Tijerina, even though he was a third-generation U.S. citizen. "How do you explain what they did to Davy Crockett?"
"That was the last time," says Tijerina, "that I ever wished for a coonskin cap."
"The Alamo became a hammer for bashing Mexican-Americans in Texas," says Crisp, a Yale-educated Texan. "It was portrayed as a race war" between Mexicans on one side and American settlers thirsting for freedom on the other.
But on that battlefield, Crisp pointed out, there were free blacks, slaves, Indians from central Mexico who spoke no Spanish, Tejanos [Mexicans who sided with the Americans], Europeans, including an Italian general. It was almost a laboratory in multiculturalism. It was not a race war."
All kids growing up in 1950s Texas were raised on textbooks that omitted or obscured the fact that the Alamo counted among its defenders Spanish-speaking, Mexican-born Tejanos who fought bravely. "They are the people who often get erased from the story of Texas independence," says Crisp, who appeared in a PBS documentary "Remember the Alamo," on the role of Tejanos in the Texas revolution (which will be broadcast Tuesday at 10 p.m. on WTTW-Channel 11). "They had their own reasons to fight for Texas independence. This Anglo-Mexican cooperation was purged from the Alamo myth."
Telling this tale is an awesome responsibility," director Hancock, 47, said in his trailer during the final days of filming last summer. Hancock notes that his intention was to convey depth and humanity upon Mexican soldiers, while portraying Travis, Bowie and Crockett less as freedom's icons than as mortal, fallible men trying to do their best in a difficult situation.
Yet Hancock recoils at the suggestion that his movie might be viewed as an exercise in political correctness. "If I had deliberately set out to tell only 'the Mexican side,' it would have ended up on the editing room floor," he said. "Gen. Santa Anna may be the most fascinating guy in the movie, and I can't deny an attempt to convey that a very large Anglo constituency [at the Alamo] was interested in keeping slavery, but ultimately, I looked for those things that would tell the very best story. The facts of the Alamo are far more interesting than the mythology."
In the year leading up to the battle of the Alamo, a number of small but significant skirmishes between settlers and Mexicans had taken place, one of the most important of which was the Texians' virtually bloodless capture, on Dec. 9, 1835, of the Alamo itself, then a crumbling three-acre mission.
By early February 1836, Travis, Bowie and Crockett, three volunteer soldiers, had come to San Antonio to join the struggle for independence. Of the three men, Crockett was the most charismatic. "He was probably America's first celebrity," said Hardin of the three-term Tennessee congressman and frontier hero, a renowned marksman and tracker who had served under Jackson in the Creek War of 1813-14, a campaign against Alabama's Indian tribes. "He came into the Alamo, and these hardened men surely stopped and said, ?'My God, there's a living legend.' He was the one you'd want to invite over for dinner ?- sort of a cross between Will Rogers and Daniel Boone."
Documentary accounts of the final battle, on March 6, are based largely on journals of Mexican officers and the stories of a few noncombatant survivors who had sheltered inside the Alamo. At about 5:30 a.m., some 1,100 of Santa Anna's men moved quietly under patchy bright moonlight to surround the garrison. Some of the general's young soldiers were so excited they could not maintain silence. Viva Santa Anna! they shouted. Viva la Republica! Their cries alerted the Alamo's defenders. "Come on, boys," Travis shouted as he sprinted to the walls, "the Mexicans are upon us, and we'll give them hell!"
The Texians (as the rebels called themselves) filled their cannons with every available piece of metal -- hinges, chains, nails, bits of horseshoes -- and sprayed deadly shot over their tightly bunched attackers, who carried axes, crowbars, ladders and muskets fixed with bayonets. Their nine-pound cannonballs inflicted heavy casualties, splattering flesh and jagged bones over soldiers who were not themselves hit. The carnage caused some Mexicans to attempt retreat, but officers forced them back into battle at swordpoint.
The wounded shrieked in agony, some begging to be put out of their misery. "The shouting of those being attacked," wrote Lt. Col. Jose Enrique de la Pena, "pierced our ears with desperate, terrible cries of alarm in a language we did not understand. Different groups of soldiers were firing in all directions, on their comrades and on their officers, so that one was as likely to die by a friendly hand as byan enemy's."
At the Alamo's 12-foot north wall, the Mexicans felled Travis with a musket ball to the forehead. Then Santa Anna sent in more troops, bringing the assault forces to nearly 1,800. Within about half an hour, the Texians retreated toward the barracks and chapel, hemmed in hopelessly for one last, bloody stand.
"Great God, Sue, the Mexicans are inside our walls!" screamed Capt. Almaron Dickinson to his wife, Susanna. "All is lost! If they spare you, save my child." Susanna and her infant daughter, Angelina, took shelter in the church's sacristy, along with several Tejano women and children, all of whom, in addition to several unidentified Texian slaves, Santa Anna would spare.
In the Alamo's final minutes, the fighting turned to hand-to-hand combat with knives, swords and bayonets. Some Texians tied white cloths to bayonets and thrust them through the broken walls, screaming their wish to surrender in whatever Spanish they could command. Historian Alan Huffines believes as many as 50 defenders, not accounted for in the oft-cited number of 189 killed, fled the Alamo over the low east wall, only to be slaughtered by Mexican lancers positioned outside the fortress. (Stricken by what is now thought to be typhoid pneumonia, delirious and probably near death, Bowie was slain in his bed.)
Finally, using cannons they had captured from the defenders, the Mexicans blasted open the entrance to the chapel and butchered the last defenders, except, many historians believe, for Crockett and perhaps a half dozen of his men, who may have been taken alive. In this scenario, Gen. Manuel Fernandez Castrillon wanted to spare the men. But according to de la Pena's account, when Santa Anna finally entered the Alamo, he ordered their immediate execution. In the end, said Davis, "We don't know where or how Crockett died, and we never will."
Santa Anna ordered the bodies of all the Texians heaped onto grisly pyres, inside and outside the Alamo, and set afire. "The bodies," wrote de la Pena, "with their blackened and bloody faces disfigured by desperate death, their hair and uniforms burning at once, presented a dreadful and truly hellish sight."
Although the idea that the Alamo defenders refused even to contemplate surrender is an article of faith for many people, Crisp said "it is just a myth that they pledged to die no matter what. That's the myth that is pervasive in the Fess Parker and John Wayne versions. But these were brave guys, not stupid [ones]."
In the aftermath of the battle, Texians exaggerated Mexican casualties while Santa Anna underreported them. Historian Thomas Ricks Lindley, author of Alamo Traces, used numerous Mexican sources to conclude that Mexican fatalities were about 145 on March 6, and that 442 Mexicans were wounded during the entire siege. Other research suggests as many as 250 wounded Mexican soldiers eventually died in San Antonio.
As Santa Anna walked among the wounded, many undoubtedly writhing in pain, he is said to have remarked: "These are the chickens. Much blood has been shed, but the battle is over. It was but a small affair."
Santa Anna's butchery achieved the effect he had sought. Army Capt. John Sharpe described the reaction in the town of Gonzales, which had sent troops to the Alamo, when news of the massacre arrived: "Not a sound was heard, save the wild shrieks of the women, and the heart-rending screams of fatherless children." Many Texas families soon pulled up stakes and fled eastward.
Forty-six days after the fall of the Alamo, however, Santa Anna met his match. The general, flush with a second major victory at the nearby Fort Goliad, where he slaughtered Col. James W. Fannin and his some 350 men but lost many of his most experienced fighters, marched east with about 700 troops (later reinforced to 1,200) toward present-day Houston. He camped on high ground at San Jacinto.
But Sam Houston and a force of about 900 men had gotten there first. By April 21, Santa Anna's troops were exhausted and hungry from their march. "They had probably gone two days without sleep," Hardin said. "Many just collapsed in a heap."
At about 3:30 p.m., the Texians hurtled through the brush, bellowing, "Remember the Alamo! Remember Goliad!," killing unarmed Mexicans as they screamed, Mi no Alamo! Mi no Goliad! A Mexican drummer boy, pleading for his life, was shot point-blank in the head. "There were atrocities committed every bit as odious as at the Alamo," Hardin said.
Houston's official report says the San Jacinto battle lasted a mere 18 minutes and claimed 630 Mexican lives, with 730 taken prisoner. The Texians lost nine men. Santa Anna escaped, disguised as a common soldier, but was captured the next day. The Texians had no idea who he was until some Mexican prisoners addressed him as "El Presidente."
In a remarkable face-to-face encounter, Sam Houston, who intuited that the dictator was more valuable to the fledgling republic alive than dead, negotiated with him for an entire afternoon. Santa Anna saved his skin by agreeing to sign a treaty guaranteeing Texas' independence from Mexico. He was held in custody -- documentation is scanty about the length of his incarceration -- and within two years allowed to return to Mexico. He would manage to ascend to the presidency three more times.
In the end, notes director Hancock, dispelling some of the mythology that has grown up around the Alamo does not demean the men who endured the siege and final assault. "By owning up to these men's pasts, they become more human and their bravery and sacrifice all the more com-pelling," he said. "I've always been attracted to flawed heroes."
I thought that this post needed to be bumped up, and I'll do so every day. Its importance isn't restricted to a few days in the news.
(Did you read 'The Tortilla Curtain in the end, Edgar?)
I have been so disrupted by events that I haven't even searched a copy. I still intend to make good. My work schedule, which keeps me as active as any 18 year old boy, exhausts me. Then I have deadlines for my short stories, plus fighting off ill effects of some large tumors on my legs - It's almost impossible for at least a few more months. I appreciate your interest in the thread. I have always been close to Mexicans in one way or another, having lived in the same poor neighborhoods as a child and working with many in new housing construction. At age 20 I came close to marrying a Mexican (only close, because she couldn't accept my religious views). I have a grandson who is half Mexican, and he's the light of my life. I began this thread, partly because, despite all that close association, I am still ignorant in many ways.
Talking online on one of the messengers? Or talking about an online copy of the book?
I don't have an online copy of the book, but I could type it up.
I think Amazon.com will have one. I appreciate the offer.
. I hope that the worst is over, Edgar, and that, if you had treatment, it was effective. Like many people, I look up to you very much, and A2K wouldn't be the same without your contributions.