It's déjà vu as I travel these lonesome New Mexico roads as I had so many times while heading New Mexico State University's Agricultural Economics Department. Sherry is the rare woman who enjoys a trip across the Great Plains. But this wasn't a pleasure trip, so she remained home tending to our spoiled curs, Buddy and Tia. Son Johnny accompanied me in this attempt to retrieve stuff (junk?) from storage. My attempt last summer was foiled by a broken arm.
Storing that stuff was to be for two years, the length of my initial contract with Sultan Qaboos University. Two years turned to four. Then "retirement" back to Monroe made it six, and time to retrieve that stuff.
We get to Tucumcari, fabled stop on historic Route 66, and hometown of Dolores Leibold, Monroe Clinic's Spanish-English interpreter. You can still get a sparkling clean motel room there for thirty dollars. I'm Swiss - why pay fifty if you can get by for thirty? There are better things to do with that extra twenty quid.
Tucumcari - county seat of Quay County. I should stop by the courthouse and visit with Jeff, NMSU's agricultural extension agent. And I should stop at NMSU's Northern New Mexico Agricultural Science Center and visit with Rex, the director. But we're under time constraint. So maybe next time. There are too many "next times" in our lives.
We arrive in Las Cruces the next day. It has grown too much, too fast, no longer a sleepy southwestern college town. To my relief, my adobe in adjoining romantic old Mesilla still sits on a quiet street. I touch base with my tenants and am reminded how cozy an adobe can be on a chilly New Mexico evening.
We didn't have much time for socializing but managed to meet some old friends and listen to a Mexican trio at a favorite haunt. While there, we ran into an old political friend, Mary Jane Garcia, doing well as Majority Whip of the New Mexico State Senate.
Stuff finally loaded - I hate moving - and returning across the snow covered Oklahoma panhandle - Johnny driving the U-Haul and I in my pickup, I listen to a CD by Toni Blum Seitz, accompanied by David Austin. Since returning to Wisconsin I have dusted off my accordion. Martha Bernet encouraged me, so how could I refuse? But I don't sound like David Austin. As a kid I was privileged to take lessons from Rudy Burkhalter and Yvonne Metz. I should have studied harder.
I occasionally get together with my good friend and neighbor, Gary Hendrickson, who patiently accompanies me with his banjo and gives me helpful tips. Our recent two-man gig at Monroe Manor was successful, mainly because Gary carried me. For this I am grateful. As the miles roll by, I play my accordion in my head and pretend that I sound like David Austin.
Into western Kansas I tune into High Plains Public Radio. The news is terrible - stock markets nervous as a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. This economy is shakier than the sooths would have us believe. When the Fed has to promulgate a rule that lenders verify the ability of borrowers to repay, something is seriously awry.
And what about those CEOs with multi-million dollar annual salaries, who took big risks with sub-prime loans, lost millions for their institutions, and sent financial markets spiraling downward? Radio talk show gasbags tell us that CEOs deserve multi-million dollar salaries and exemption from progressive tax rates because they're smarter than the rest of us. One wonders.
Then there is trouble in Kenya - violence in Nairobi and Eldoret. This strikes a personal note. In the mid-'80s when I was a visiting professor at the University of Nairobi I was invited to give a series of guest lectures at Moi University in Eldoret. To drive from Nairobi to Eldoret, I had to cross the equator. I stopped at the wayside and walked back and forth across the equator about six times. As nothing mysterious, mystical or spiritual happened, I climbed back into my vehicle and headed for Eldoret.
I have fond memories of Eldoret. The people were friendly, food at the hotel was excellent, and the students attentive. I'm saddened that it is now the site of such trauma.
Rolling into Iowa the day before the caucuses, there is optimism in the air - hope that regardless of party there will soon be more visionary leadership at the top. Other states are griping - Iowa is said to be "too rural, too old, and too white" to be representative, and shouldn't be first.
I, for one, think it's great that Iowa is first. OK, I'm biased. Rural/small-town Midwesterners are people with whom I grew up, know and trust. Far better to have these folks rigorously screen candidates on a face-to-face basis than to select them via 30-second television ads and media hype.
And besides, these Iowans, said to be "too rural, too old, too white" ignored the pundits and picked an African American and a previously little-known governor from a small state as their choices for nominees. So let's give them high marks for their painstaking independence. And if Californians, New Yorkers and Floridians don't like Iowa's choices, they're free to pick their own, using conventional media hype and 30-second TV ads.
No fast-talking politician can look across a kitchen table and bamboozle a group of hard-working, intelligent farm wives. I can't think of a better screening committee. OK, so I'm in the minority on this, but I still think Iowa has a superior system.
Back in Monroe, unloading stuff - I'm not a collector, but how did I accumulate all this junk - er, stuff? I'm not atypical. Maybe that's why storage business is booming while everything else seems to be heading south.
But who can predict the economy? Dr. John Frantz recently reminded me of an old Galbraith quote, "Economic forecasting makes astrology look respectable." And Yogi Berra opined that it's tough to predict, especially when it's in the future.
There are things that could be done to make this economy work better for Middle America, but that's for another day.
- John Waelti is a native of Monroe Township. He is former Professor of Applied Economics, University of Minnesota; and Professor Emeritus, New Mexico State University. He was also Visiting Professor, University of Nairobi; and Head, Department of Agricultural Economics, Sultan Qaboos University, Sultanate of Oman. He can be reached at jjwaeli@tds.net.
Storing that stuff was to be for two years, the length of my initial contract with Sultan Qaboos University. Two years turned to four. Then "retirement" back to Monroe made it six, and time to retrieve that stuff.
We get to Tucumcari, fabled stop on historic Route 66, and hometown of Dolores Leibold, Monroe Clinic's Spanish-English interpreter. You can still get a sparkling clean motel room there for thirty dollars. I'm Swiss - why pay fifty if you can get by for thirty? There are better things to do with that extra twenty quid.
Tucumcari - county seat of Quay County. I should stop by the courthouse and visit with Jeff, NMSU's agricultural extension agent. And I should stop at NMSU's Northern New Mexico Agricultural Science Center and visit with Rex, the director. But we're under time constraint. So maybe next time. There are too many "next times" in our lives.
We arrive in Las Cruces the next day. It has grown too much, too fast, no longer a sleepy southwestern college town. To my relief, my adobe in adjoining romantic old Mesilla still sits on a quiet street. I touch base with my tenants and am reminded how cozy an adobe can be on a chilly New Mexico evening.
We didn't have much time for socializing but managed to meet some old friends and listen to a Mexican trio at a favorite haunt. While there, we ran into an old political friend, Mary Jane Garcia, doing well as Majority Whip of the New Mexico State Senate.
Stuff finally loaded - I hate moving - and returning across the snow covered Oklahoma panhandle - Johnny driving the U-Haul and I in my pickup, I listen to a CD by Toni Blum Seitz, accompanied by David Austin. Since returning to Wisconsin I have dusted off my accordion. Martha Bernet encouraged me, so how could I refuse? But I don't sound like David Austin. As a kid I was privileged to take lessons from Rudy Burkhalter and Yvonne Metz. I should have studied harder.
I occasionally get together with my good friend and neighbor, Gary Hendrickson, who patiently accompanies me with his banjo and gives me helpful tips. Our recent two-man gig at Monroe Manor was successful, mainly because Gary carried me. For this I am grateful. As the miles roll by, I play my accordion in my head and pretend that I sound like David Austin.
Into western Kansas I tune into High Plains Public Radio. The news is terrible - stock markets nervous as a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. This economy is shakier than the sooths would have us believe. When the Fed has to promulgate a rule that lenders verify the ability of borrowers to repay, something is seriously awry.
And what about those CEOs with multi-million dollar annual salaries, who took big risks with sub-prime loans, lost millions for their institutions, and sent financial markets spiraling downward? Radio talk show gasbags tell us that CEOs deserve multi-million dollar salaries and exemption from progressive tax rates because they're smarter than the rest of us. One wonders.
Then there is trouble in Kenya - violence in Nairobi and Eldoret. This strikes a personal note. In the mid-'80s when I was a visiting professor at the University of Nairobi I was invited to give a series of guest lectures at Moi University in Eldoret. To drive from Nairobi to Eldoret, I had to cross the equator. I stopped at the wayside and walked back and forth across the equator about six times. As nothing mysterious, mystical or spiritual happened, I climbed back into my vehicle and headed for Eldoret.
I have fond memories of Eldoret. The people were friendly, food at the hotel was excellent, and the students attentive. I'm saddened that it is now the site of such trauma.
Rolling into Iowa the day before the caucuses, there is optimism in the air - hope that regardless of party there will soon be more visionary leadership at the top. Other states are griping - Iowa is said to be "too rural, too old, and too white" to be representative, and shouldn't be first.
I, for one, think it's great that Iowa is first. OK, I'm biased. Rural/small-town Midwesterners are people with whom I grew up, know and trust. Far better to have these folks rigorously screen candidates on a face-to-face basis than to select them via 30-second television ads and media hype.
And besides, these Iowans, said to be "too rural, too old, too white" ignored the pundits and picked an African American and a previously little-known governor from a small state as their choices for nominees. So let's give them high marks for their painstaking independence. And if Californians, New Yorkers and Floridians don't like Iowa's choices, they're free to pick their own, using conventional media hype and 30-second TV ads.
No fast-talking politician can look across a kitchen table and bamboozle a group of hard-working, intelligent farm wives. I can't think of a better screening committee. OK, so I'm in the minority on this, but I still think Iowa has a superior system.
Back in Monroe, unloading stuff - I'm not a collector, but how did I accumulate all this junk - er, stuff? I'm not atypical. Maybe that's why storage business is booming while everything else seems to be heading south.
But who can predict the economy? Dr. John Frantz recently reminded me of an old Galbraith quote, "Economic forecasting makes astrology look respectable." And Yogi Berra opined that it's tough to predict, especially when it's in the future.
There are things that could be done to make this economy work better for Middle America, but that's for another day.
- John Waelti is a native of Monroe Township. He is former Professor of Applied Economics, University of Minnesota; and Professor Emeritus, New Mexico State University. He was also Visiting Professor, University of Nairobi; and Head, Department of Agricultural Economics, Sultan Qaboos University, Sultanate of Oman. He can be reached at jjwaeli@tds.net.
