Borderline Docs

5 11 2023

Just try to understand, I’ve given all I can. ‘Cause you got the best of me….Madonna, Borderline.

It was at the Mexican border where I began to fully grasp self-awareness.

My previous adventures always carried a sense of fantasy and escapism. In my mind, I had fancied myself this intrepid journalist, a swashbuckling Indiana Jones-like character, who traveled to far off lands to experience sensitory pleasure, diverse cultures and new customs.

This trip was different. I was playing with the grown-ups now.

So here we were, Daniel and I, motoring down to the border to meet with the mayor of Calexico and learn the truth behind one of the most hot button issues in America today. I felt confident, bolstered by enduring a pandemic inside that miserable warehouse, the political turmoil of the 2020 election and my recent service with the TSA.

It also helped to have Daniel by my side. His moxy was in full force.

“You’re going to walk from the medical center to city hall with the mayor,” he instructed.

It was a beautiful late autumn day in Imperial Valley. Full sun with a light breeze in the crisp air. I wore a short sleeved blue Panama Jack styled shirt and tan jeans. Daniel was in a suit. He had already established a relationship with the mayor through his work with the chamber.

“Just be yourself and you’ll be fine,” Daniel told me.

We met the mayor at a health clinic where a long line of people, primarily Mexicans, waited to be seen by a doctor, free of charge. The mayor was a tall man, handsome, in shape and likely around my age.

“Welcome to Calexico,” he said, smiling while extending his hand. I returned a firm grip and maintained eye contact, renewing a diplomatic ritual robbed by the pandemic.

“Let’s meet the doctor,” he said. We went inside the clinic and the mayor greeted everyone, making small talk and gushing over the babies. The overwelming majority were women and children. Come to find out, the men rarely seek out medical attention for fear of losing work time. This reminded me of a comment a TSA colleague had uttered on checkpoint: “You can’t get COVID if you don’t get tested.”

I felt guilty as we butted to the front of the line and into the doctor’s office. “Have a seat gentleman,” he said. The doctor was a bald, portly older white fellow who seemed to be in need of sleep. He explained to us that most of the patients were living in abject poverty and needed basic antibiotics to combat their various ailments. More resources were needed, the doctor said, and the mayor pledged to deliver.

After reassuring the doc, the mayor and I did the walk from the clinic to city hall as Daniel had directed. Along the way, several SUVs with dark tinted windows slowly rode by us. The mayor asked me about the Pacific Northwest and attitudes towards drugs. He said he had friends in southwest Washington state who were concerned the cartels were gaining a foothold in the region. Fentanyl, he warned, was having a devasting effect in Los Angeles and Phoenix.

We had lunch at a little mom and pop restaurant planted near the border crossing. Over enchiladas and chile rellenos, the mayor informed us of the power dynamics on the city council. Daniel proded him to seek a promotion and run for Congress, a proposal that drew a hearty chuckle. He was flattered, but not stupid. I got a sense, he had it good here and wanted to keep it that way. Everywhere we went, people nodded their respect.

Daniel picked up the bill and we walked the mayor out to his vehicle, a modest mid-sized SUV that was dusty and had seen some miles. “John, I want you to have something,” he said, opening the back door and digging into a brief case to pull out an evergreen colored folder with a thick set of papers inside. “Some reading for your return trip.”

I opened the folder and there on the first page was a government timestamp that read: Declassified, December 2, 1993.

Puzzled, I looked up only to see the mayor wink and drive away.


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Categories : California, Medicine, Security

A Dog Gone Mistake

28 08 2023

First, let me begin this post by affirming my love for dogs. I have owned dogs and they have been a fixture in my family for generations.

My all-time favorite was a little black lab mix named Mabel. She was such a sweet girl.

So sweet, in fact, that she provided comfort to some thieves that broke into my brother’s apartment when he was in college. As the story goes, they loaded up the television and electronics, while Mabel gleefully stood by during the heist.

Not long after that, Mabel came to live with me. I took her to Texas where she would show off her adorable pointer pose at the park whenever a squirrel or bird was nearby.

I have so many Mabel stories. She was the best.

My parents eventually adopted her after I moved back to Florida and she enhanced the quality of their lives for many years. After all, that is what a good pet is supposed to do.

Now, back to our story. I’m in El Centro, California visiting my good friend Daniel on a business trip. Daniel had graciously offered to quarter me at his house and as we pulled into the driveway you could hear the sound of barking coming from inside the house.

“I’m going to unlock the door and get the dogs, John, so you just run past them and into the house,” Daniel instructed.

For the life of me, I don’t know why I didn’t immediately refuse to do this.

It was a big mistake.

Daniel opened the door and instead of running to him, they chased after me. The golden retriever clawed me in the leg and the tiny mutt leaped and took a painful bite into the back of my upper thigh.

Ouch!

Daniel quickly scooped up the mutt before any more damage was done as I raced up the stairs and into the bathroom. There, behind a closed door, I nursed my wounds.

It was a traumatizing incident. My leg hurt for days and it would be a month before the bite mark disappeared. Daniel apologized profusely and assured me the dogs had all of their shots and there was no chance of catching rabies.

The little mutt was named GG, after a former congresswoman from North Florida, who I had helped elect before heading west to work in the national parks. Was this the universe’s way of getting back at me for leaving, I wondered.

After everything calmed down, I finally met Kai, Daniel’s husband. That night we toured the food bank with business leaders from the Imperial Valley.

A soft-spoken, tall and muscular young man, Kai emigrated to the States from Taiwan. He met Daniel in South Florida through a dating app and they quickly fell in love and were married in a very public ceremony inside the Florida Capitol. It was quite the statement, given the political climate at the time.

Kai liked living in California and hoped they would eventually find their way to Los Angeles or San Francisco. I quickly got the feeling, Imperial Valley was not the place they would be settling down longterm. For my safety, Kai kept GG locked away in their bedroom for the remainder of my stay.

At the food bank, Daniel worked the crowd with ease. He introduced me to the Commander of the Naval air facility, which serves as the winter home of the famous Blue Angels flight demonstration squadron. The Commander and I had a intelligent conversation about military readiness and the beauty of the Florida panhandle. I kept the dog bite story to myself.

The following morning, I would limp down to the border to finally set eyes on what had become a much ballyhooed issue. Daniel had lined us up a meeting with the mayor of Calexico.

“Get some rest, John,” Daniel advised as we left the chamber soiree. “Tomorrow is a big day.”


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Categories : Business, California

Business on the Border

31 07 2023

It had been quite a while since I had last seen Daniel. Four years to be exact. In our haste to leave Florida, we did not have a going-away party. Maybe that’s because, deep down, we knew we see each other again.

This was a new and improved Daniel I would come to find. Still that same confident bravado, bursting with energy, only now operating far from home. He had been hired by a chamber of commerce in southern California’s Imperial Valley — perched on the U.S.-Mexico border.

“Come on down and I’ll show you the border,” he said over the phone, making his best sales pitch. “It’s nothing like you’ve seen on TV.”

There was something else new about Daniel. He was married now — to a man — completing his journey from a closeted political aide. Daniel was excited to introduce me to his husband, Kai and I was looking forward to meeting the guy that was able to reel him in.

Flush with cash from my warehouse endeavors, I booked a flight to Los Angeles and then hopped aboard a small turboproped plane. There were nine seats inside the cabin. I was a tad nervous, particularly when the pilot appeared to be a recent college graduate. But she did a fantastic job, restoring my faith in future generations that had been so badly damaged by bratty Portland anarchists.

Our flight was smooth and the scenary was amazing. From the container ships lined up off the Long Beach port, we flew southeast into the desert, over the mountains and into Imperial Valley. El Centro, with its lush green farms, appeared like an oasis from the air. As I would learn, those farms provide a great amount of fruits and vegetables to so many households near and far during the winter.

Once on the ground, I was greeted by one of Daniel’s assistants from the chamber, who gave me a short tour around town. It was autumn and the locals were celebrating cooler temperatures.

“So Daniel tells me your a journalist,” the driver said.

“Among other things,” I coyly replied.

“Well, there are plenty of stories here,” she said in a slightly sarcastic tone.

Then her phone rang. It was Daniel and immediately their conversation turned into crisis control. This was, after all, Daniel’s purpose here. He was tasked with bringing three chamber of commerces together to operate as one entity. Not an easy assignment, by any stretch and especially difficult for the new CEO from Florida.

“He wants to speak to you,” she said handing me the phone. Daniel’s attitude instantly cheered up. I like to think I have that effect on people. “Welcome to Imperial Valley!!!,” he shouted.

“Thanks,” I said, “Is everything alright?”

“Oh yes, it’s just the mayor and I are having a little disagreement, that’s all,” he said.

Oh boy, I thought, here we go again. Daniel was famous for assisting and butting heads with politicians and it seemed that was still the case in California. When we arrived at the chamber, Daniel gave me a big hug and it was like old times again as he bounced off the walls with enthusiasm. He took me into his office and in between phone calls and directions to staff, he showed me some of his favorite momentos and awards from various stints of service.

“This is me with Speaker Pelosi,” he beamed, showing me a photograph of him alongside the Queen of San Francisco.

Tired from a long day of traveling, I asked Daniel if I could get some rest and unpack so he took me to his house, where I would be staying in their guest bedroom. It was a nice sized house, two stories with a garage and big backyard in a modest neighborhood at the end of a cul-de-sac.

Staying here saved me money, but there was a catch that I didn’t fully calculate — There would be dogs.


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Categories : Business, California, Confidence

Ready To Run

30 03 2017

Pat, Sen. Clemens and Daniel

Spring break in Tallahassee makes Florida’s Capital City seem like a ghost town.

The kids are gone, but the adults are in session. I rode up with Daniel looking for a story. Daniel knows quite a few stories.

“How do you know Daniel’s lying,” a fellow journalist asked. “His lips are moving,” they answered.

We picked up Pat in West Palm Beach. I was intrigued instantly. Of the three of us, Pat was the most recent winner. She now sits on the soil and water conservation board. Originally from New York by way of Virginia, Pat, a seasoned political operative, was disgusted with the election of Donald Trump.

We rode in a SUV Daniel called “Aggie.” It was a used car, probably about 15 years old, but it ran smooth and got us up to Tallahassee and back without breaking down.

Daniel and I split driving duties. Pat sat up front, chain-smoked and cursed Republicans. We solved the dreaded bathroom bill before entering Tallahassee city limits. At a truck stop off I-10, folks breezed into the gas station men’s room without wait, while the line for the women’s room was backed up and flowing into the adjoining McDonald’s.

“That’s how it is in the clubs too,” Daniel remarked.

So much for equality. When it comes to time spent in the powder room, on an average, ladies take longer, we observed.

Daniel had worked security at a Fort Lauderdale nightclub. It was one of his many jobs. It seemed as if he was perpetually running for some public office. He is always eager and full of energy. We had been planning this trip for a while. Daniel comes to Tallahassee ever year in some capacity or form. He started his career at Florida’s Capitol as an aide serving in offices of many South Florida lawmakers.

“This is the young man we’ve been mentoring,” said the legislative assistant as she introduced Daniel to the representatives from Lauderhill.

Daniel holds his own well in conversations, but tends to get over confidant at times. At the Democratic Women’s Club of Florida’s annual “Tally Days” conference, he was a principle organizer. He presented tips – via powerpoint – on how to effectively lobby lawmakers.

“Always be nice to staff and aides,” Daniel urged a room full of energized women at Tallahassee’s Sheraton Four Points Hotel.

While Daniel grabbed the microphone at nearly every opportunity, Pat stayed in the background. She dressed immaculately. Her hair, dress and makeup flawless. She was representing Palm Beach County after all. No small task.

Pat is a senior no doubt, but I would never ask her age. In group meetings with lawmakers, Pat demonstrated a keen understanding of the issues concerning our environment.

But more importantly, Pat is tough. She is battle tested. She’s a winner.

I also found her at times a bit angry.

She did not like the way Hillary Clinton went down and there was a sense Pat was fighting to avenge Hillary’s dignity.

Pat’s most intriguing text to me during our visit to Tallahassee was this:

Consider very carefully what is gossip, what is self serving and what’s in it for them.

Sage advice, indeed.


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Categories : Florida, Politics, Water