A perspective

Ted. On November 4, 1952, Dwight Eisenhower was elected president of the United States. Three days later, I was born. Coincidence? Not really. My point is that I have been alive during the administration of 14 presidents; 7 Democrats and 7 Republicans. The political pendulum tends to swing back and forth in my country on a regular basis and politicians are consistently punished at the polls when they wander too far afield. 

This past, Saturday, November 7 was my 74th birthday and I am doing a bit of reflecting. The US midterm elections, held a week ago have proven, once again, that, creaky as it sometimes appears to be, the US ship of state continues to sail on regardless of how stormy the seas may be. I love how Jon Meachem, Pulitzer Prize winning author and historian recently put it, “…the Democratic victories are evidence that the battered heart of American democracy is still beating.” 

I began my birthday by attending a monthly breakfast meeting of my church’s men’s group. There were 16 of us and we reflected a range of ages, sexual preference and political persuasion. The talk was not of the election on Tuesday. Instead of politics, we spoke of the health of our church and our friends - all very good at the moment. We discussed our families, travel and a even a little bit of college football.

Later in the day, Judy and I took a six mile hike at a nearby park and enjoyed forest bathing amidst glorious weather and fall colors. 

We finished the evening with our daughter, her husband and their two sons who prepared a delightful meal for me. The love was palpable. 

Grandson Caedmon with his Dad, Daniel

Do I worry about what the future will be like for my four grandsons? Not really. Sure, they are growing up in a world filled with rapidly changing technologies, economic uncertainties and worldwide political instability. But they are being raised right, and they know that they are loved. I do not doubt for one minute that they will thrive, come what may. And 74 years from now... this will still be a beautiful world.

Kinda home

Ted. After spending close to a week getting to know Silver City, it was time to finish up the 7,000 mile journey we had begun in Denver back on August 26. We travel more slowly nowadays so it was a day and a half before we passed Raton, New Mexico heading north on I-25 and were greeted by that famous sign.

Yes, Georgia has been home for Judy and me since 1984 but Colorado is still kinda home. My father’s employer transferred him to an office in Denver back in 1971 so the family relocated with him. I was in college in Indiana at the time so did not establish deep roots there. However, after finishing up my degree, and then traveling for a couple of years, I move out to Colorado permanently in 1976. It wasn’t too long after that that I met Judy, who had relocated to Denver to attend grad school. 

We were married in Denver, both our kids were born there and we owned two houses there before my work moved us all to Arizona, and then Georgia. My folks never left and their ashes are interned there. My sisters, Kathy and Cindy and their husbands are still there as is one of Kathy’s daughters and her family. 

Our Colorado great-nieces

Judy and I have maintained friendships with some special people we got to know in the 70’s and it always feels like a bit of a reunion to meetup with everyone, even if it’s just for a bagel and coffee. We aren’t close to all that many people so we think it's worth the effort to keep in touch with those folks we do know - even if we don’t always remember to take photos. So, with no really good stories to share, I’ll just report that we got lots of good hugs over a few days before we hopped on a plane to fly back to Atlanta - our other kinda home.

Silver City

Ted. Before leaving New Mexico, we wanted to spend some time in an area we had not explored before. Our friend, Jeff had suggested we consider Silver City. Nestled in the Mogollon Mountains in the southwestern corner of the state, the town of about 10,000 began as a tent city following a silver strike in 1870. Today, it is home to a small university and a lively artists colony. Surrounded by the Gila National Forest, with tons of hiking trails, it sounded perfect. 

After settling in to our Airbnb we visited the local historical museum, always a good place to get oriented. 

Silver City Museum

Here we heard a cautionary tale about poor planning as we learned about the original layout of the town. Little thought was given to the annual floods that coincided with the “monsoon season, the traditional late summertime period of frequent cloudbursts when 80% of the annual rainfall in the southwest occurs. Main Street was built along a dry wash so construction was probably easy with no trees or rocks to clear. Unfortunately it wasn't so dry when the monsoons hit. 

After an especially disastrous flood in 1895, the town fathers abandoned efforts to rebuild Main Street, wisely yielding to Mother Nature who had turned the old wash into a 55 foot deep trench. All of the businesses that hadn’t been washed away by the floods literally turned their backs on Main Street and relocated their main entrances to the back of their buildings which faced Bullard Street. So today, one visits all of the old buildings - now mostly cafes and galleries - along Bullard Street. Behind the rows of buildings lies a sunken garden. No, Silver City no longer has a Main Street; instead, they have "The Big Ditch!" City leaders have always known the wisdom of good branding! 

"The Big Ditch" today

We also learned a bit about the Mogollon Culture, a modern name given to the folks who lived in the region roughly 1,000 years ago. We decided to pursue this at the Western New Mexico University Museum which contains the world’s largest collection of Mogollon Mimbres pottery. When we saw the bowls we were stunned - not a word I usually associate with pottery. There were no pottery figurines or other shapes - just bowls. They were usually 6" to 12" in diameter.  Some had three colors and a few were oval but most were black on white and round. They were only decorated on the interior and all showed evidence of having used for simply eating food. The wild geometric patterns and crazy interpretations of humans and animals made Judy exclaim, “You think peyote played a role in this?” As if that weren’t enough, some bowls had been found covering the heads of human skeletons. Each of these particular bowls has a hole intentionally punched in it. One theory is that the hole would allow the departed person’s spirit to leave. We have seen a lot of pottery all over the world but nothing like this!

One sunny morning we headed out on the nearby Dragonfly Trail in search of the eponymous 1,000 year old petroglyph. “Be sure to look on the back side of the rock.” suggested a volunteer at the city museum. 

We strolled under bright blue skies through multicolored fields covered in wildflowers, thanks to the recent rains. 

The path wound around for a while and then descended to Twin Sisters Creek which tumbles down from a pair of nearby peaks known as, "Anyone, anyone?"...the Twin Sisters!

 Eventually eagle eyed Judy spotted the Dragonfly. 

A Native American symbol for water and healing, this petroglyph demonstrates that the location was important to the local population centuries ago.

Walking around behind the Dragonfly, we realized the rock formed the back wall of a little niche well above the stream below. It was protected from cold winds as well as predators, four legged and two legged. 

Look at the dark rock surrounded by orange lichen

On closer inspection we located the images. 

Can you see the figures?

One is pretty obviously a pregnant woman and another of a woman squatting to give birth. 

Local tradition says that the Apache tribes who wander these hills long after the Mogollon Culture people had disappeared, made regular use of this place. It was an ancient birthing room; probably one of the coolest things we had seen in all of our travels around this incredible state!

The cottonwood tree

Ted. As we drive across the plains and deserts of the American West, my eye often catches a line of green and yellow in the distance. Here, one can always mark a stream by the line of cottonwood trees following its banks. 

I love the cottonwoods for their gnarled bark. Brittle, they are often broken, trunks sometimes lying along the ground where they tumbled but didn't die. 

They are survivors, living through droughts and floods for hundreds of years. Naturally, a poet put it best.

"Cottonwood Tree 

A lone cottonwood tree stands on the rolling Colorado plain. 

A rippling stream flows nearby, its existence to sustain. 

Its lofty branches reach for the pristine Colorado sky. 

Tho' badly scarred, the ravages of time it continues to defy. 

I tarry 'neath its welcoming shade to muse about its past. 

For a century or more it has witnessed the passage of time so vast. 

Why did this sturdy sentry survive when others fell away, 

Yet, shedding a blizzard of cottony snow each ensuing May? 

I wonder if it was a landmark beacon for hardy pioneers, 

As they traveled e'er westward seeking new frontiers. 

Perhaps a patrol of cavalry paused 'neath its welcome shadow, 

To take respite from their weary trek across the sere plateau. 

Scars remain where buffalo scratched their hides upon its bole. 

I suspect that it was a sanctuary for graceful antelope on patrol. 

I could imagine a majestic eagle perched atop its aerie, 

Reposing from its search for prey across the endless prairie. 

Rustling leaves startled me from my nostalgic reverie. 

Were phantoms of the past gathering about this very special tree?

I felt as tho' God considered this solitary tree renowned.

I respectfully withdrew, sensing I'd intruded upon sacred ground!"

- Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)

Albuquerque

Judy. Seems like every few years, we hop back to Albuquerque. The first time, of course, was during Covid, when we had to fly home on a moment’s notice, leaving our friend Jeff all the food we had just bought. Almost four years ago, we returned to stay with him, and planned a big morning at the Balloon Fiesta, which got rained out. 

Determined to further enjoy the city with Jeff, we stopped by one more time. 

After an hour on a washboard road out of Chaco, followed by two and a half on a major highway, we pulled into his driveway, exhausted and overwhelmed. Fortunately, he had a lovely meal waiting, and sent us off to bed, since we had to get up at 4 AM to get to the Fiesta. 

No rainouts this time! As the sun rose, so did a large truck balloon, flying the American flag, while the national anthem played over the loudspeaker. In minutes, balloon after balloon filled and lifted into the sky in what Jeff called a “magic moment.” That moment continued for the next hour, and the energy in the field was overflowing. People cheered every time a basket rose. The excitement and fun was everything we hoped for. 

Flag liftoff

Ready for liftoff

Finally saw the Fiesta!

My favorite balloon! 

After well-deserved naps and a tour of his desert garden, Jeff took us to Casa de Benavides, a well-known New Mexican restaurant. The outdoor ambiance was lovely, and the food out of this world. 

The next morning, we made a picnic lunch and drove to a living museum (quite close to our friends Carol and Keir’s home) called El Rancho de Las Golondrinas, where we learned about three periods of New Mexico history, the Spanish period, the Mexican period (do NOT confuse the two), and the territorial period. It was a beautiful day, and we enjoyed our lunch by a millpond. 

Our guide in the chapel of the Spanish period

Kitchen in the Mexican period

Territorial period is quite different from the others

Jeff knows the coolest places!

The following day we had another long drive ahead of us, down to Silver City, by way of Hatch, NM, where we stocked up on more Hatch chili pepper. Leaving our friend was tough, but since we already made tentative plans to meet up again, it was easier than expected. 

Till next time, Jeff and Albuquerque!