Neighborhood landscape in El Paso, a major northern hub of the Chihuahuan Desert. (Courtesy of https://nextdoor.com/)

By Dan Bodine

Forget for the moment about these cute little libraries sprinkled about neighborhoods in El Paso. One time in my early life checkin’ into and out of the big ones were in the top 10 things in my life. Not now though. But put some Hardy Boys Mysteries in there and today’s kids may be flocking to ’em, too! It’s another story, though.

But notice the desert rock and all the cacti in there. Stare at how much Flapjack cacti, in particular, dominate the landscaping in this El Paso yard, so stylish now in desert landscaping. And these are multipurposes plants, too! (Yeah, also, FYI, Flapjack‘s the wrong name for ’em, but hold on; I’m on a political veer here, also.) 

Xeriscaping, first, is a hot landscaping trend now — e.g., using these once-despised cacti and other “hard scrabble” plants common to Chihuahan Desert/Southwest USA soils — all to artfully landscape yards around these same regions’ homes, is so sweet, it’d make a kitten kiss your dog.. I mean, I’ve seen some spiffy ones!

And moreso, a culinary delight they are, too, many feel, not just being a nod to the pioneer era’s naturalism. And in many countries, such as Mexico, i.e., they’re part of healthy daily eating also. ( Note: Green links, remember, lead readers to much more topical info.)

But all plants like these that have been used commercially in other countries for years are in America’s same comeback era. Which is really thickening the landscaping card deck. Especially my misnamed Flapjacks! The U.S.A. is finally catching up with the world’s gang, it appears.

Thus, cutting waste in water costs, food costs, and also (I won’t discuss it much here either, but better throw in energy costs, too) are all part of what this little discussed Cactus Landscape Movement comes down to — e.g., a new inherent, evolving stage of our core underlying religious belief, Manifest Destiny — in  all matters possible, even landscape plants.

And it shouldn’t come as an historical shocker either. Today we’re  persistently evolving into a new breed of Americans, let’s admit — e.g., heirs of millions of mostly freedom seeking dreamers from other countries who’d converged upon these lands over 250 years ago — and organized a goverment designed to protect individual rights.

And “No Kings!” is still the line in the sand, although current politics certainly is testing its strength.

In my 80s, yes, I’m an old geezer now. That’s someone who may be moored somewhere else, but carries images from yesteryears in their head to reflect upon scenes of the present, too.

“We makin’ Progress, Jethro?!”

“Doin’ fine mostly, Ol’ Bo! Doin’ fine!” My alter ego reports. Talk to it regularly, yes. Has good intuition most times.

But even Jethro doesn’t know the name misused occasionally for “Flapjack” cacti, especially now in the tumultous reign of wannabe King, President Donald J. Trump.

Trump’s cold action to downsize government, all the time while separately enriching himself with much more personal financial rewards, is threatening the “No Kings” line. That’s the criticism. Strangely prickly times we’re in, yes.

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Prickly Pear cacti, the bane of Southwest USA ranchers, have found new life as landscape for homes in the cities.. Photo courtesy

Prickly Pear Cactus, being seen in a new landscaping light now in southwestern USA cities. (Coutesy Photo https://www.britannica.com/plant/prickly-pear#/media/)

It’s “Prickly Pear” cactus (shown above and at top also; link here shows how to prepare it for food), that is a large share of this culture rage now, e.g., what I kept mistaking as the Flapjack. There are 73 varieties in its Opuntia group. Here’s a link to purchase some of the winter hardy ones, in case anyone’s interested.

A real Flapjack cactus, btw, is seen below  — Still a good commercial export commodity due to its inherrent red clothing dye characteristic.

 

Will the real “Slapjack cactus” take a bow? [courtesy link here]

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But all that aside, the first thing that jumped out at me when I saw the El Paso scene (above at top, again), indeed, was a cactus scene from a Texas Spring Saturday, in either ’60 or ’61. It was the evilest thing on a certain rancher’s mind.

It was when Cleburne Drugstore owner Arland Easch hired the late  Wayne Bigham [proud son of Cleburne later with GM Motors], and I to clear his small ranch pastures — a few miles west of Cleburne on U. S. Hwy. 67, of these “damn” Prickly Pear cacti — e.g. dig ’em up, one plant colony at a time, and stack ’em in piles, which he could later burn.

Admittedly, there may’ve been other options to rid himself of those harmful-to-cattle cacti, but the deal-of-this-day was uprooting and piling the damn things up. So Wayne and I got on it!

And, indeed, yes, I’d always misnamed these Prickly Pear plants as “Flapjack cactuses“,  even though the Prickly Pears are a longtime food stapler around the world, now popular in desert landscaping, remember.

Got the name from my late Dad; he was reared up in the Panhandle, on farms around Quanah. Their leaf paddles, indeed, resemble the shape somewhat of a normal pancake.

But we started early, and ended way late that evening. Leaving behind one large pile after another of Prickly Pear cacti.

You guys ain’t got anything better to do?

 Even routed an angry, sleeping Rattle Snake once out of its hole, I remember well.

It had scared us both! Wayne and I were juniors in high school then, I think. We ran and hid from the rattler in the ranch’s pickup we were using until the snake finally slithered away.

Then we got back to work, finished every one of the pastures, and went our way back home.

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Mr. Easch had a dining counter and a row of stools in his drugstore, where Wayne and I walked from school during the week to eat lunch often. Our school didn’t have a cafeteria then.

When I walked up the stairs into the pharmacy room on that next Monday for our pay, Mr. Easch wasn’t too happy.

Wayne and I that previous Saturday had left a gate open to a front pasture, it seems.

That night, one of his prized Black Angus heifers had gotten out onto Hwy. 67 in pitch darkness, and was struck and killed by an auto.

A DPS trooper awakened Mr. Easch in the middle of the night to inform him of the accident, and the vehicle’s damages.

And asked him to come outside to the highway to possibly negotiate civil damages.

He paid what amounted to an auto damage repair claim, a civil settlement, of $800 (early ’60s, remember) to the owner of the car — e.g., gave it to the person along the side of U. S. Hwy. 67, is what I remember him telling me that Monday.

And he did pay us our wages then, too, that Monday. Mr. Easch was one of Cleburne’s most outstanding citizens. But somewhat disgruntled, too, this time, yes.

And, it was also the last opportunity Wayne or I got to work for Mr. Easch at his prized cattle ranch. Enough said.

But boyhood memories from many years ago, they are.

So, how does all this all tie in to “Divine Providence”, surely some readers are asking?

And getting us out of a fascist-leaning mess, too, that wannabe King Trump appears wanting to do now with state election gerrymandering, i.e.

All I can say is, it appears this Cactus Revolution would layer us with environmentally good stuff for both our planet and ourselves, too; while possibly getting rid of politicians who seem unable at times to tell the difference between the Golden Gate and the Pearly Gate.

We’re at one of those historic, “pendulum correction, swing-back” times in American history, is my bedrock thinking.

Cheap falsehoods, the old image of traveling salesmen being dispersed to the countrysides and the likes (dredges of unfortunate babies and other punctures in our humanities left behind, i.e.), all are in Society’s Crosshairs now — e.g., to be properly acknowledged and dropped dutifully deep into history files! Responsibility is being racheted up a notch!

Despite feigning to be a good Christian, i.e., Trump has been described as ” transactional, focusing more on reinforcing his image as a strong leader than on genuine spiritual beliefs.”

Through his emergency, short-time executive actions, i.e., he’s cut almost 300,000 Congressionally approved workers.

And since the buying power of jobs’ incomes holds up economies of local, state and federal district governments, much criticism has been stirred, yes! Rightfully so!

And none of them may be stirring up as much blue hate (from Democrats) as declaring emergencies in big blue cities, and taking them over on a short-term basis by federalizing National Guard Corps — e.g., just to send them to the largest cities to hold down questionable crime rates.

But it’s as if President Trump took office this year after last year’s elections with a huge, inflated ego, similar, say, to what a religious layperson would describe as an anointment by God.

The election campaign results, as he appears to have interpreted them, indeed, had made him a dragonslayer of sorts — e.g., against real or imagined enemies of the state (perceived from rhetoric thrown back and forth in the campaign, yes)

And it ties in to his retribution rheteric so much, too. For instance, “The Retribution Phase of Trump’s Presidency Has Begun,” shouted the headlines in a recent The New Yorker magazine article.

Besides troops to patrol deep blue cities, there’s the team of investigators sent to former staff member-turned-critic John Bolton’s home, looking for … dirt, of course, retribution dirt.

But consider, too, effects from a continuing an almost concomitant series of federal investigations against him. Some of them already are court decisions stalled on appeal when he became President, linking to both stalled and dismissed cases. 

Those “cases link him to thirty-four felony convictions, including charges of fraud, election subversion, and obstruction,” The Atlantic Magazine stated earlier this year.

On a “Revenge Tour,” it is — e.g., determined to clean up the mess — e.g., assuming, indeed, it’s not just in his mind. All these blue cities he’s sent troops into are in a period where crime rates are lower now then they’ve been in years.

XXX The Old Man of the Desert XXX ( Image courtesy Pixtobay )

Bless his heart, “Clean it up! “is an older mantra than the Biblical Methuselah. But things become so trite over time, even an apparent drunken blind man will eventually find a door in the darkness if he keeps stumbling long enough, i.e., my late Dad use to tell me.

A World War II hero to me, common housepainter who could quote almost anything in the Bible despite having only a 6th grade education, as well as an upstanding citizen, too. And he became a longtime GOP member after I left high school.

In the wake of Sunbelt Growth and strong, conservative opposition to the liberal’s Hippie/Beatnik generaion, Dad was sucked into the Republican Party by a long string of magnetic, cultural events, I think. At the top of the party now though is a well-educated, golden-haired shyster. It’s gone full circle!

And the fact that Trump’s never held a state office, effectively prior to his first term as President in the 4-branch government we operate under — e.g., fed, state, local  and media — I think he’s realized now that that whole conglomerate system won’t work properly, until all those minions below him regularly clamoring for new tubs of elbow greese, finally get their fair share of it.

If not, then in my old-fashioned view, yes, he’s wastefully and questionably immorally, too, attempting rat killing knowingly with a short stick.

All while explosively putting thousands of families into more misery by weakening their Democratically elected representatives’ ability to curb power-hogging — thru “Gerrymandering,” and their weakened Congressional bill-passing process.

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Well, obviously I’m taking the long route to get around to discussing this nation’s founding ethic, and its Judeo-Christian background. Which, eventually, one-way-or-another, has been a major cause in any historic “pendulum swing” in our government over the years.

It’s the simple principle that “Divine Providence” underlies our Constitution. Here’s an assurance that’s posted on the right-wing organization American Heritage Association’s website about it:  

During the American Revolution, when the American founders wrote the Declaration of Independence to form the new nation of the United States of Ameica, they included principles in the document that characterized America’s founding philosophy.

One of those principles was the idea of God as “Divine Providence.”  The Founders concluded the Declaration by stating, “For the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the Protection of, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor [emphasis mine].” (e.g., the American Heritage’s writer.)

Their description shows that they acknowledged and upheld a Judeo-Christian, Bible-based view of God — e. g., as actively involved in the lives of human beings.

Such were the views of many early Americans, which greatly impacted their thoughts and actions at the time of the founding.

So with the Cactus Revolt and other environmental issues acting as wind behind our backs, probably my best closing note for all of this is a simple question:

Can we as generational inheritors, pass the state of our country onto the next generation of inheritors, with Democracy at least in the same condition as it was, when it was passed to us? 

The aftermath of the 2026 Elections may be the best answer. Thanks for reading The Whole Nine Yards of this, dear readers!

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NOTE: Apologies to my readers for such a long time in not posting. At almost 82 now, I’ve lost a lot of my energy, yes. Can’t push myself thru periods of tiredness, i.e., as I once did. So, thank you for sticking with me.

I have been writing a little, though. And starting in a few months I hope to self-publish 2-3 more, much longer, non-fiction manuscripts I’ve been working on about more personal events in my life — including, i.e., the one time in my life I was ever credited with saving a person from getting killed. In a bar, no less! The stories will be available at a low-cost price through this site, yes. Hang on with me, please.  — D.B.