I know that gringos are con- stitutionally prohibited from getting involved in Mexican politics (in my opinion, an excellent arrangement considering what foreign meddling can do), and this article is in no way intended as a political endorsement! My aim is to amuse, maybe even offend, but definitely not to influence (besides, if you’re reading this, you probably are not a registered voter down here anyhow). Think of it as just an expression of appreciation, a toast, if you will. Here’s to the best mayor I’ve ever seen in action, anywhere: Mazatlán’s Alejandro Higuera. I just want to personally say to him and his crew at City Hall, whether they notice or not, “Thanks for all the good work, especially bringing a steady stream of public water to my rural home. Also, the nearby sports complex, pedestrian overpass, roadwork, etc.” He changed our lives for the better, and will be missed, wherever his destiny takes him (he stepped down in June to run for Congress in October). Sure, some in the tourist biz may call him an aguafiestas (wet blanket or party pooper) for making the spring break kids keep their clothes on (in public, at least), and for being strict about underage drinking and after hours violations, and maybe he has been tight-fisted with liquor permits, and enraged the environmentalists and preservationists by building a power station in a fetid swamp and encouraging Mazatlán’s construction and real estate boom, but he has always had the best interests of the greater community in mind, especially the humbler colonias, and his sincerity is obvious. When he leaves office this year, he will be leaving behind an impressive list of important public works, none more magnificent than the faucet in front of our house. I don’t care what anybody says,

the guy is alright! I’ve seen him in person twice. The first occasion was our son’s kindergarten graduation, and the Mayor (aka El Alcalde, or El Presidente Municipal) came out to dedicate the new roof over the playground and meet the young graduates. The children all liked him without even knowing he was someone important (you can’t fool kids with impressive titles). The second encounter was when he and his heir apparent Salvador Reynosa of the water company came out to our long-neglected neighborhood to inaugurate the new pump and pipe system that reaches where no water had ever reached before. The big celebration was held right in the dusty littered crossroads in front of our spread, with a television crew on hand, also a motley crowd of grateful neighbors accustomed to toting buckets of water uphill every day (the Pacifico girls, who usually decorate local political stages, were, tragically, not in attendance). After a brief introduction, the Mayor took the microphone. At that very instant, our frisky little mutt Escampy and the neighbor’s shepherd Rocky came horseplaying along, nipping and barking at each other, and actually rolled up against the Mayor’s legs and shoes as he was clearing his voice to speak. Instead of kicking them, as a less adroit politician might have naturally done, he got off a couple of pretty witty wisecracks: “Look! And they call the dog man’s best friend! They’re fighting like a couple of congressmen! Which one is the PRI-ista? Which one is the PRD-ista?” (Note pun: “perredista”- perro means dog). On his last day of office, the Mayor told reporters that he might be back for a third term someday. That would be just fine with me, and here’s hoping the next Mayor follows in the Higuera tradition! (But don’t let me influence your non-vote.)