The plan was to stay at Kingman, after the day at the Grand Canyon, and drive a short next day to Bakersfield, where Basque food awaited us. So I didn't mind as much that the breakfast the hotel offered was pretty slim pickings.
We'll gas up and check the tires at Needles, says Gary, before we take off across the desert. The first exit had a big Shell sign, so we pulled off, and ... you know that feeling in the horror movies when the what-turns out to be the horrible axe killer, sweetly and innocently asks the car's occupants - "so, where'r from?" And, to make it creepier, it was the same station and the same guy as 2 years ago when we had a similar encounter. That time, Gary let him look at the tires, and he promptly said they needed air. Then, he has a conversation about the treads, and how we ought to replace them before they blow up on us the desert ... Gets you thinking, about 30 miles east of Needles, when you see a bunch of pieces of tires by the side of the road. Turns out he had indeed, put too much pressure in them - on purpose?
So this time, it was "the sequel". "Don't make eye contact" "don't give out any personal information" and above all - Don't let him touch the tires! The guy tried, but while Gary could hardly keep a straight face, he wasn't going to let the guy touch the tires! Turns out his initials are "LD", so we named it Lucifer Devil... we laughed a long time, after we were safely back on the freeway.
Lunch in Ludlow at the Dairy Queen, " the best place to meet" according to the sign on the side of their truck. apparently, also the only place to meet. It was doing a land office business at 12:30 when we pulled up. It was hard to make a healthy choice - especially now, with the calories printed beside each menu offering.
Unfortunately, the combination of the road food and the heat and the change in altitude/pressure, made us sufficiently queasy that we never made it to any of the Basque places. something to look forward to the next time we're in Bakersfield - god forbid.
The rest of the ride home was beautiful across 58 and down 101 - green, green, water, lush earth, green - did I say green? - . we do live in a special place.
the end.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
the rest of the story
Santa Fe was wonderful; great town, great museums, restaurants, people watching, etc etc. Between my sister and her family, and some friends of a friend, who are becoming our friends, I had too much to do in too short a time. Here's the de rigeur photo of the Indians s
elling their jewelry along the portal of the Palace of the Governors in the Plaza, and a picture of artwork by Tony Abeyta, my newest fav painter. This one struck me because although it is titled something like 'high country road', it looks to me from a distance to be a modern version of the Navajo pattern blankets (real ones, VERY expensive). I like modern art (see earlier posts). He's Navajo, and quite successful. 
Check his work out here:
http://blueraingallery.com/artists/tony_abeyta/
Can you guess what the phallic thing is?
Ancient pre-Colombian pottery; or a corroded water pipe on the outside drain for one of the newer-built hotels? The "newest" building at the place we stayed is 210 years old. Santa Fe was settled by Indians, then Spaniards, Mexicans etc - from about 1504 according to some histories.
One day we spent at a very expensive spa, unless you're local, then it was cheap. One day they drove me all around the high mountain country north of town, where they had lived some 40 years ago, avoiding the manhunt for the killer on the loose from Truchas. Here's a photo of a rural Spanish cemetery on Upper Llanos Road (for those of you who know where that is, you know it's way out there beyond paved roads), and one of us in Taos; the pools at the spa, and Deb all blissed out after a day in hot mineral waters. ( I couldn't get them to move into text-appropriate slots., sorry.)
All too soon, we headed West and home, and began our "long trek" of bad food, bad people, bad hotel accommodations. And no, I didn't take pictures. The only good part was a day at the Grand Canyon.
California deserves its own paragraph of "badness", and also, surrealism, but that's another story.
elling their jewelry along the portal of the Palace of the Governors in the Plaza, and a picture of artwork by Tony Abeyta, my newest fav painter. This one struck me because although it is titled something like 'high country road', it looks to me from a distance to be a modern version of the Navajo pattern blankets (real ones, VERY expensive). I like modern art (see earlier posts). He's Navajo, and quite successful. 
Check his work out here:http://blueraingallery.com/artists/tony_abeyta/
Can you guess what the phallic thing is?
Ancient pre-Colombian pottery; or a corroded water pipe on the outside drain for one of the newer-built hotels? The "newest" building at the place we stayed is 210 years old. Santa Fe was settled by Indians, then Spaniards, Mexicans etc - from about 1504 according to some histories.
One day we spent at a very expensive spa, unless you're local, then it was cheap. One day they drove me all around the high mountain country north of town, where they had lived some 40 years ago, avoiding the manhunt for the killer on the loose from Truchas. Here's a photo of a rural Spanish cemetery on Upper Llanos Road (for those of you who know where that is, you know it's way out there beyond paved roads), and one of us in Taos; the pools at the spa, and Deb all blissed out after a day in hot mineral waters. ( I couldn't get them to move into text-appropriate slots., sorry.)
All too soon, we headed West and home, and began our "long trek" of bad food, bad people, bad hotel accommodations. And no, I didn't take pictures. The only good part was a day at the Grand Canyon.
California deserves its own paragraph of "badness", and also, surrealism, but that's another story.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Cultural events part 3
The day before we left Roswell, we did get to the Anderson contemporary arts museum, which is just as glorious as I remember. As usual, it was entirely empty of visitors, giving us a lot of space in which to contemplate the pieces. We took far too many pictures, but here are a few.
However, contrast a huge building full of art and no visitors, with the scene last night in Santa Fe. It was the opening reception for a new photography exhibit, designed to examine the effects of climate change and human predation on the environment. I didn't get any pictures, because the place was packed!! I mean packed - like in New York at the opening of a Picasso show, or the like. "Everyone" was there - of course, I didn't know anyone, but they all knew each other. Lots of air kisses, hearty back slaps, cries of "ooh" and "aah" over the photos, which were pretty great, I have to say, but one couldn't get close enough to really look at them.
And, just before that, down the street at the Institute of American Indian Art, I went to a lecture on Indian law, given by Walter Echo Hawk, well known, wrote a book, etc etc. See more about him at: http://attorneys.crowedunlevy.com/AttorneysDetail.aspx?id=98
I mean, the difference between Roswell and Santa Fe is a lot more than 265 miles!!
However, contrast a huge building full of art and no visitors, with the scene last night in Santa Fe. It was the opening reception for a new photography exhibit, designed to examine the effects of climate change and human predation on the environment. I didn't get any pictures, because the place was packed!! I mean packed - like in New York at the opening of a Picasso show, or the like. "Everyone" was there - of course, I didn't know anyone, but they all knew each other. Lots of air kisses, hearty back slaps, cries of "ooh" and "aah" over the photos, which were pretty great, I have to say, but one couldn't get close enough to really look at them.
And, just before that, down the street at the Institute of American Indian Art, I went to a lecture on Indian law, given by Walter Echo Hawk, well known, wrote a book, etc etc. See more about him at: http://attorneys.crowedunlevy.com/AttorneysDetail.aspx?id=98
I mean, the difference between Roswell and Santa Fe is a lot more than 265 miles!!
Friday, April 8, 2011
Leaving town
As we left this morning, we tried to take a picture of "Roswell in my rear view mirror." See what you think.
Town just stops, where no one has yet put up a fence and laid a concrete slab. And the only music is, you guessed it, country. Like, "I may not know what love is, but I know what it ain't" after the singer sees his "girlfriend" kissing his ex- best (male) friend; or, "I'm sitting here fancy-free, I love her still; but she wouldn't be good for me, if I kept her against her will." and, of course, Taylor Swift's country music award song, "Why you gotta be so mean":
You have pointed out my flaws again
As if I don’t already see them
I walk with my head down
Trying to block you out ’cause I’ll never impress you
I just wanna feel okay again
Town just stops, where no one has yet put up a fence and laid a concrete slab. And the only music is, you guessed it, country. Like, "I may not know what love is, but I know what it ain't" after the singer sees his "girlfriend" kissing his ex- best (male) friend; or, "I'm sitting here fancy-free, I love her still; but she wouldn't be good for me, if I kept her against her will." and, of course, Taylor Swift's country music award song, "Why you gotta be so mean":
You have pointed out my flaws again
As if I don’t already see them
I walk with my head down
Trying to block you out ’cause I’ll never impress you
I just wanna feel okay again
I bet you got pushed around
Somebody made you cold
But the cycle ends right now
Cause you can’t lead me down that road
And you don’t know, what you don’t know…
Someday I’ll be living in a big ol’ city
And all you’re ever going to be is mean
Someday I’ll be big enough so you can’t hit me
And all you’re ever going to be is mean
Why you gotta be so mean?
Or, the proto-lyrics Gary suggested when trying to express how much he appreciated my help during his visit with his mother: "I've got buckets of 'darlin' for you, darlin'", "darlin" being the generic term of endearment among redneck cowboys.
The wind blows on the plains. It really blows. Steady about 35-40 mph, gust up past 50. Nothing between the Lincoln National Forest at Ruidoso (where 10,000+ acres just burned in a wildfire), and West Texas. It's treeless, flat, ugly, and deserted. Even the rabbits and antelopes seem to have left the area. Gary says he remembers as a child traveling this route, playing "games" where people counted the rabbits they saw on the road. We saw one.
And, now we're in Santa Fe. Here's some preliminary pictures.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
sandstorm
Remember Gary's comment about how his birthday weather forecast was brown? Turned out to be not so much brown, as gray. But there were 60 mile an hour winds, blowing the dirt/sand/ground cover all around, in one's eyes as I tried to walk the dog, in the crevices of the car windows, so that the interior is all dusty, everywhere. These pictures look sort of like fog, but believe me, there was NO moisture in the air; that's all dust particles.
So, we stayed inside. Here's Gary after a few drinks on his birthday:
Since we had intended to go off to the mountains and fish, it seemed appropriate to give him a t-shirt and matching cap that says: "size does matter." But, as it turns out, between the brush fires, and the road work, and the fact that "winter is over and summer is not yet here," most places were closed in April, so we're gong to Santa Fe instead.
Cultural events in roswell, part two
There are actually several quality art museums in Roswell, as odd as that may seem, and I had a chance to visit the Roswell City Museum as a respite from the sandstorms, literal and psychological, swirling around me. I couldn't take any pictures, but here's the link to their website: http://roswellmuseum.org/
Besides the permanent collection of New Mexico artists, they have an artist-in-residence program. This spring, it is an installation artist from Maine, but I didn't think much of her inflatable red parachute-like structure. I liked the exhibit called "Flora" which took pictures of flowers from their permanent collection and displayed them together. Lots of different styles, from classical still lifes, to modern papier mache structures.
Their claim to fame is the Peter Hurd collection; he's a local boy made good. Went from a career in the military (local military institute - see earlier posts - and West Point) to being an artist. Studied with the elder Wyeth and married his daughter, Henrietta, also an artist. When they returned in style to Roswell, they attracted a minor following, sort of like Taos, and those people all contributed to the museum.
Hopefully we will get to the modern art museum before we leave - it is really a marvelous collection. It too has an artist-in-residence, but it is 10 to 15 people every year, each of whom lives on the grounds with their families, dogs and assorted hangers-on, and each artist has to donate a piece created during the residency to the museum. some get very famous, most are not, but the art is good. check it out:
http://www.roswellamoca.org/
Besides the permanent collection of New Mexico artists, they have an artist-in-residence program. This spring, it is an installation artist from Maine, but I didn't think much of her inflatable red parachute-like structure. I liked the exhibit called "Flora" which took pictures of flowers from their permanent collection and displayed them together. Lots of different styles, from classical still lifes, to modern papier mache structures.
Their claim to fame is the Peter Hurd collection; he's a local boy made good. Went from a career in the military (local military institute - see earlier posts - and West Point) to being an artist. Studied with the elder Wyeth and married his daughter, Henrietta, also an artist. When they returned in style to Roswell, they attracted a minor following, sort of like Taos, and those people all contributed to the museum.
Hopefully we will get to the modern art museum before we leave - it is really a marvelous collection. It too has an artist-in-residence, but it is 10 to 15 people every year, each of whom lives on the grounds with their families, dogs and assorted hangers-on, and each artist has to donate a piece created during the residency to the museum. some get very famous, most are not, but the art is good. check it out:
http://www.roswellamoca.org/
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Gathering papers
Part of the cost of Gertie's assisted living, when it becomes time for that, could be covered by the VA, as her husband was a WWII veteran. However, as we all know, the bureaucracy requires "papers," before they will approve a pension; simple things like a marriage certificate, death certificate, service discharge papers. I have a word of caution for anyone with still living, sentient parents, collect this stuff now! Or at least ask them pertinent questions about the date and place of the above events so you can collect copies from the relevant state or county records archive.
So, Gertie, where and when did you and Ray get married? "Oh, I don't really remember, we just decided one day to do it. Could have been..." and she rattles off 5 or 6 places between here and Lubbock Texas, all in different counties, each with its own clerk and marriage registrar and fee for searching the records - unless we want to drive all over SE New Mexico and stop in at each county courthouse. " It was summer, and I wasn't pregnant with Gary." Not much to go on, so I have been on the phone all over. No luck so far locating the correct county.
OK, how about when he died? "Let's see, he was 48, and I was a little younger, so... " but it turns out she was off by 10 years. I did locate his grave, which has only the year of death, not the exact date, and the cemetery (called: can you believe it? South Park)
has only the date of actual burial. Next call - to Santa Fe Department of Vital Records to see if that's enough info to get a death certificate.
Haven't begun to tackle the DOD for his discharge papers.
So, Gertie, where and when did you and Ray get married? "Oh, I don't really remember, we just decided one day to do it. Could have been..." and she rattles off 5 or 6 places between here and Lubbock Texas, all in different counties, each with its own clerk and marriage registrar and fee for searching the records - unless we want to drive all over SE New Mexico and stop in at each county courthouse. " It was summer, and I wasn't pregnant with Gary." Not much to go on, so I have been on the phone all over. No luck so far locating the correct county.
OK, how about when he died? "Let's see, he was 48, and I was a little younger, so... " but it turns out she was off by 10 years. I did locate his grave, which has only the year of death, not the exact date, and the cemetery (called: can you believe it? South Park)
has only the date of actual burial. Next call - to Santa Fe Department of Vital Records to see if that's enough info to get a death certificate.Haven't begun to tackle the DOD for his discharge papers.
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