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Picture This – Cuervo

28 Jun

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Have you ever heard of a ghost town with its own interstate exit? Cuervo, New Mexico has one, which makes it unique among ghost towns in the American West. While some abandoned villages are conveniently located, most of them sit in the middle of nowhere. To see them, you really have to make an effort. Cuervo is different because you can see it from Interstate 40.

That’s how I saw it the first time I taught the New Mexico field trip class that my university offers. We had pulled out of Tucumcari and were heading into Albuquerque. As we flew by, I noticed a bunch of abandoned buildings on the left. This was in the days before smart phones, so I had to wait until we got to the hotel to find out what I saw. I also took a mental note that we needed to stop in Cuervo the next year.

We have stopped at Cuervo ever since. Well, there were a few years when we dipped down into Clovis, New Mexico, but most of the time we have spent a few minutes in Cuervo.

While there, I tell the students about the economics of the West and how ghost towns have come to dot the landscape. We talk about the “boom and bust” nature of the West and how towns developed around resources rather than around places where towns would sensibly exist.

There is really nothing like teaching history where that history took place. It’s as close to a spiritual feeling as I have ever experienced. I have been lucky to do it on the New Mexico trip and other places, as well. I have talked about the Scopes Monkey Trial in the courtroom where it began. I have talked about the Battle of Little Bighorn on Last Stand Hill.

Those were big events. Cuervo is just a little town that didn’t make it. It’s not a story of heroes or villains. It is a story of ordinary people who tried to make it in a tough land and discovered that they couldn’t. When I am in Cuervo, I wonder about them. I wonder when they realized that things were going bad. I wonder what business was the first to close and which resident was the first to abandon a house. It has to be tough to leave a building that no one else wants.

If you are ever driving down Interstate 40 in New Mexico then pull over in Cuervo. There is a story there.

Meeting Max Evans

9 Jun

Recently, I returned from our annual field trip to New Mexico, and, as always, it brought some great experiences and memories. We operate on a strict schedule, but something unexpected always happens. One year, we met the tribal judge of the Nambe Pueblo at IHOP, and she invited us to visit her courtroom. Another year, we stumbled into a Mother’s Day celebration at the San Ildephonso Pueblo and were invited to stick around.

A couple of trips ago, I bought a statue of Billy the Kid at the Shidoni Gallery. It turned out to be the last one, which meant the artist had to approve the sale. The next year, we were exploring Ghost Ranch and started talking some people. As it turns out, one of them was the artist who made my sculpture, and he was very interested to meet the person who had bought the last one.

This year, we arrived in Santa Fe on Friday and headed to the plaza to take advantage of free admission to the museums. The New Mexico History Museum is one of the best I have seen, and we wanted the students to go through it before we went on our daily tours. Usually, they walk around, and I hang around to answer questions. However, I wanted to do some of my own exploring. Upstairs, they had a special exhibit on cowboys, both real and imagined.

In the lobby, I saw an elderly couple, and the man was dressed to the hilt as a cowboy. I figured they were there for the exhibit and really thought that when I heard the woman say she was wondering if they would see anyone they knew.

A student and I went into the exhibit, and it was great. There were artifacts and photographs that offered a sense of what true cowboys did. As the exhibit continued, it ventured into the realm of the cowboy myth with tales of wild west shows, rodeos, dime novels and movies.

I looked at all of these things, but I also watched the elderly couple being escorted through the exhibit by a museum employee. That’s when I began to think that maybe this man was depicted in the exhibit or had donated some of the artifacts.

Toward the end of the display, there were movie posters and clips from some classic westerns. My eye was immediately drawn to Chisum, and I told the student that she had to watch that clip. Before she could pick up the headphones to listen, the museum employee spoke to us.

“I would like to introduce you to someone.”

He motioned to the elderly man in the cowboy hat.

“This is Max Evans. He wrote that.”

As the man said this, he pointed to the movie poster of The Hi-Lo Country. We were standing in the presence of a great western writer. Honestly, Mr. Evans didn’t seem interested in talking to us, as he began to mosey away. That’s alright because I was still happy to meet him.

A few minutes later, we found out that they were screening The Hi-Lo Country that night, and he was going to answer questions about his work. We went to the theater, and I took a very dark picture.

Max Evans is in the white hat.

Max Evans is in the white hat.

I wish we could have stayed around for the screening, but, as I said, we operate on a strict schedule. I have never seen The Hi-Lo Country, but I will now.

The World is Not a Beach

3 Jun

Last night, I went to the Phoenix Ball and had a good time. We drank. We ate. We danced. We saw a local doctor lick the ice sculpture. Yes, even when people are formally dressed they still act like fools. The students who serve as valets got a big kick out of that scene. One of them said that it was the best night of his entire time in college. That’s saying something.

There were some good people sitting at our table. We were all very talkative. One couple was a fellow coworker and his wife. Another couple was the son of a former coworker and his wife. A third couple was a former student and her husband. Then, there was a local business owner and his wife. As far as I know, neither one of them was a former coworker or student.

We talked about a lot of stuff, and, at one point, traveling came up. They all talked about their favorite places to visit, and it was all beaches.

Florida beaches.Florida Beach

Alabama beaches.Alabama Beach

South Carolina beaches. South Carolina Beach

As they described each one, I wanted to point out that they kept saying the same things over and over.

“Oh, the sand is wonderful.”

“There’s this great seafood place that no one knows about.”

“The condo is right on the beach.”

In essence, these people go to different beaches all of the time, but they are always seeing the same thing. I have to say that I felt bad for them. If they go to a Florida beach all of the time, then they will never see the geysers of Yellowstone.Old Faithful

If they go to a South Carolina beach all of the time, then they will never see Monticello or Mount Vernon.Mount Vernon

If they go to an Alabama beach all of the time, then they will never look down upon the Grand Canyon.Grand Canyon

I have written before that my family hardly ever went to the beach for vacation. We got in a car and drove across the country. Through those vacations, I grew up seeing the United States and all of its beauty. Yes, beaches are nice, but there’s a lot more to the world than a beach.

I may be a travel snob, but I believe that people are doing themselves a disservice if they always go to a beach. There’s more to life than watching wave after wave after wave and following that up with a shrimp cocktail and hush puppies. There is an entire world of more interesting stuff.

Family Time in New Mexico

30 May

When my nephew travels, he takes thousands of pictures. He takes pictures of everything imaginable, but he doesn’t take any pictures of himself. This drives my parents crazy because they think family vacations should have pictures of family. I understand this, but he doesn’t. Why does he want pictures of people that he sees all the time? He wants scenery and cool stuff.

He went on the trip to New Mexico with me, and I promised them that I would get plenty of pictures of us both. He didn’t want to waste his camera space, so we used mine. These are some of the results.

The first picture was taken at the Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial. It is a somber place, and I felt funny taking a touristy picture there.BB-New Mexico 069

Next, we stopped at the big cross in Groom, Texas and sat in on a famous meal.BB-New Mexico 078

After spending the night in Tucumcari, New Mexico, we took a walk around the ghost town of Cuervo, New Mexico. That’s not Jose lurking in the shadows. It’s Trader Dave.BB-New Mexico 085

Later, we went to the shores of the Rio Grande at Coronado State Park.BB-New Mexico 087

We didn’t cross the river. Instead, we climbed to Nambe Falls and found a big rock to sit on.BB-New Mexico 092

Then, we went to the church at Chimayo where there are stories of dirt that heals all wounds.BB-New Mexico 096

The next day was rough for my nephew. He was sick and had to stay behind as we went to Chaco Canyon. However, he bounced back and was able to visit Acoma. We took one picture in front of a kiva.BB-New Mexico 122

We took another picture with Enchanted Mesa behind us. According to the sign, I couldn’t throw my nephew over the edge.BB-New Mexico 123

After Acoma, we drove west to El Morro and had our photo taken on top of that. I kept thinking that the box canyon below would be a great place for a hideout.BB-New Mexico 128

We hiked up the Tent Rocks trail and had another picture made. I’m not sure what the man in the background is doing. He has on a Skipper shirt and a Gilligan hat. That’s all I know.BB-New Mexico 133

The next one did not involve a climb. It involved making our way to the church ruins at Pecos National Monument.BB-New Mexico 141

Finally, we drove to the overlook at White Rock.BB-New Mexico 147

That’s it. That is family time in New Mexico

Picture This – The Shadow Horse Gang

28 May
A rare photo of the Shadow Horse Gang. From left: Trader Dave, The Kid, Doc Pete and Shadow Horse

A rare photo of the Shadow Horse Gang. From left: Trader Dave, The Kid, Doc Pete and Shadow Horse

For several years, a band of outlaws has roamed the northern New Mexico territory. Their range has been from as far east as Tucumcari to as far west as El Morro. They have been south to Socorro and north to Ghost Ranch. These are hard men who hideout most of the year and do most of their riding in the spring. Undoubtedly, they are destined to find their way into the annals of New Mexico’s history.

Shadow Horse – The leader of the gang. Some say he came from Louisiana, and others say he used to be a preacher. None of that is certain, but everyone knows that he is part Indian. He is most comfortable on the trails of the back country and moves like the wind over terrain that would kill most men. Tent Rocks is his favorite haunt. His native blood offers the gang safe entry into the surrounding pueblos and reservations. Without Shadow Horse, the gang would have never gained its notoriety.

Doc Pete – Born near the goldfields of California, he has roamed from Canada to the former Confederacy and made a name for himself as a medicine man. The gang survives in the wild lands of New Mexico because of his knowledge of his surroundings. Once, he survived a near disastrous trek at Bandelier. He knows the plants that will kill and the plants that will heal. An expert on the trails, Doc Pete could disappear into the wilderness and never return.

The Kid – As a wily old veteran, his name seems to be a mistake, but he is the youngest member of the gang. His career began in Tennessee at a young age, but, unlike the other famous Kid of outlawry, he had the luck and skill to stay alive. He is comfortable in the back country and serves as lookout when the gang is holed up in Chaco Canyon. Despite that, the Kid is happiest sitting at a Faro table with a saloon girl sitting on his lap.

Trader Dave – Raised in the industrial region of northern Indiana, he followed the Santa Fe Trail into New Mexico. At times, he can be spotted around Pecos buying and selling goods with the local inhabitants. Dollars. Pesos. It doesn’t matter what currency. He can make a deal for any and all goods. Still effective on the trail with many years behind him, Trader Dave is at his best with frijoles and tortillas on a plate and whiskey in a glass.

Musical Journey

14 May

In a few days, we will be leaving on our annual field trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico. I will return with stories from the Wild West, but, until then, I will be out-of-pocket for a while.

The trip to Santa Fe is an adventurous one. Four teachers and ten students jump into a couple of vans and journey from one end of the continent to the other. It’s a long way, but the directions are easy. My town sits on Interstate 40. That means we stay on one road through Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas and part of New Mexico. Like Bugs Bunny, we take a right at Albuquerque.

Or maybe it was left.

Or maybe it was left.

The stretch of Interstate 40 between Nashville and Memphis has been dubbed the “Music Highway”, but the entire road to pretty musical. It seems that a lot of the places we pass have songs written about them.

Nashville has a bunch of songs written about it, but one of my favorites is “Nashville Cats” by The Lovin’ Spoonful.

Not long after Nashville, we go through Jackson. Now, I don’t know if June and Johnny Cash were singing about the Jackson in Tennessee or the Jackson in Mississippi. However, this is my blog, so it’s going to be Tennessee.

Next, we go through Memphis, a city of Blues and Rock n’ Roll. Like Nashville, there are a lot of songs about Memphis, but one of the best was by Johnny Rivers.

I guess Little Rock has some songs about it, but we don’t really go through that town. This means that Oklahoma is the next musical place we hit. Obviously, there is a musical about this state, but Three Dog Night recorded my favorite Oklahoma song. It’s a weird tune that talks about Spain and the Beatles.

We stop in Oklahoma City, but I can’t think of a good Oklahoma City song. However, Carrie Underwood has a song about her hometown of Checotah.

From Oklahoma, we venture into the panhandle of Texas. There’s not much in the panhandle of Texas but the city of Amarillo. George Strait has a great song about Amarillo.

That’s about it for Texas, but there is one more song. When we get close to Albuquerque, I always think about a song that is about a guy driving on Interstate 40. However, he is traveling the opposite direction. Instead of going west, he is going east through all of the towns that we have passed. He is leaving a bad woman, and “by the time I make Albuquerque she’ll be workin’“.

So, that’s the musical journey I will be making this week.

Those Are Not Cheese Sticks

17 Apr

Several years ago, some friends and I traveled to Chicago to watch our favorite team, the University of Tennessee, play football. They were playing Notre Dame, and it seems that weird things always happen with those two teams get together. This weekend was no different.

Two of my friends, Mayor and Rick, flew up earlier in the day, and I flew up later with Larry. The plan was for us to meet at the hotel. Larry and I landed; made our way to the hotel; and found out that Mayor and Rick had gone out on the town. We decided to go out and grab some food.

The hotel sat a block from Michigan Avenue, so we walked over to see what we could find. We walked pass a steak place, but that wasn’t really what we wanted. Some other places looked interesting but didn’t appeal to us. Finally, Larry looked across the street and saw an Italian restaurant. It looked a little fancy for the way we were dressed, but Italian sounded like a good choice.

The place was definitely fancy, and it was packed. It was hard to walk through the place, but we squeezed our way to the bar. I can’t remember how long we waited, but I remember that we had a long conversation with an older couple from Nebraska. I also remember that the lady was covered in diamonds.

By the time we got to the table, Larry and I were both starving. The waiter, who had an accent that I can’t type in, came over for our drink order. Before he could get away, Larry said that we wanted an appetizer, and the following exchange took place.

“Hey, bring us some of these cheese sticks.”

“Sir, those are not cheese sticks. They are mozzarella slices.”

“I don’t care what they are. Just bring us some.”

It wasn’t long before we got the mozzarella slices.Mozzarella

Then, we ordered our meals. I can’t remember what I got, but I distinctly remember that Larry got lasagna. I also remember that he only ate about half of it. I thought that was weird because I had never seen Larry leave anything on a plate.

“What’s wrong? Is it not any good?”

“It’s ok. I just don’t want anymore.”

That was pretty much it, and we made our way back to the room. By this time, Mayor and Rick had returned. They told us what they had been doing, and we told them about the snobby waiter, but we didn’t talk for long because we needed to get up early to make it to the game. Mayor and Rick slept on beds while Larry and I slept on rollouts. This means that we were packed in there.

At some point, I heard Larry get up and step over my bed. None of us stirred, but we woke up pretty quickly. Larry went to the bathroom, and strange noises started coming out of there. He was moaning and groaning. He was grunting. We didn’t know what was happening, but we knew it must have been bad. It sounded like he was dying. This went on and on and on.

We started to get worried, and Mayor said that somebody needed to check on him. The problem was that none of us wanted to go in there. We didn’t know what we were going to see. All along, Larry kept making sounds that made me think of The Exorcist.Exorcist

At some point, one of us mentioned that we should take him to the hospital.

We were worried. Larry was dying. This was a serious situation. Then, it happened. Through the grunts and the groans Larry yelled, “THE SON OF A BITCH POISONED ME!”

That was the end of the seriousness. Although Larry was still struggling, the rest of us could not stop laughing. At some point, Larry made it out of the bathroom. He survived but his clothes didn’t. I’m not sure what happened to them, but the hotel probably had to call in a hazardous waste crew.

The next day, Larry went to the game, but he was pale as a ghost. Tennessee won on Saturday, but the waiter won on Friday night.

Play It Pretty for Atlanta

16 Apr

This weekend, I did something that I never envisioned doing. I went to market, the industry name for a women’s clothing convention. My fiance, owner of Beauty Boutique, needed to attend because that’s what boutique owners do. I needed to go because, well, I just wanted to. Life is full of experiences, and this would probably be an interesting one.

Shockingly, we got a late start, but, once we hit the road, it was smooth sailing. Actually, there was one rough patch. When we crossed Monteagle Mountain, I serenaded her with the theme from Smokey and the Bandit. She laughed hysterically and wrote about it on Facebook. Did I mention that I hate Facebook?

My sentiments exactly.

My sentiments exactly.

We arrived in Atlanta, and, after some fancy driving on my part, we made it to the hotel. She immediately wanted to head to market to check in and browse before they closed for the day. I had no idea what to expect, but I felt like that I had walked into the cantina on Tatooine at closing time.

The girls all get prettier at closing time.

The girls all get prettier at closing time.

There was some strange-looking creatures hanging around, and they all looked worn out. That’s not totally correct because there were some fair looking creatures there, too. However, they looked just as tired.

We went back to the hotel and started wondering about dinner. We didn’t want to venture too far out, so I looked up the hotel restaurants. That’s when my eyes bugged out. The lower level of our hotel housed Trader Vic’s. I only knew two things about Trader Vic’s. It is a hangout for werewolves who like pina coladas, and I had to go there.

I didn’t see any werewolves. However, I felt like I had walked into a 1950s postcard from Hawaii. I don’t even have the words to explain this surreal experience. Imagine getting swallowed up in a song by The Ventures and being served an umbrella drink. That’s Trader Vic’s.

How can you go wrong with a menu with this cover?

How can you go wrong with a menu with this cover?

The next day, we got up bright and early for market, and it was a completely different experience. The cantina crowd was ready to go and buyers from stores throughout the nation were cramming the aisles between the booths. They had everything that a woman could possibly wear, and there was a thousand varieties of each item. Heck, there were ten stories filled with stuff. As a crowd watcher instead of a buyer, I started to figure out the difference between the serious buyers and the sightseers. I could also pick out the guys who were doing the exact same thing that I was.

However, that was just the appetizer for what I really wanted to see, the runway fashion show. I couldn’t wait to see a bunch of models strut their stuff on the catwalk. I wasn’t disappointed because they looked like I imagined. But, there was a problem. There was a woman in front of me wearing cat ears, and she was blocking my view. I promise that there is nothing worse than sitting behind a woman wearing cat ears at a fashion show.

After the show, we needed to eat. There wasn’t much around, so we ended up at The Hard Rock Cafe. The cheeseburger and 80s videos were great, but there was another form of entertainment. Atlanta’s version of The Amazing Race was going on. Some teams were taking it serious, and other teams were coming into the bar to get drunk. After this much activity, I needed a nap.

I slept most of the afternoon and woke up hungry. I didn’t want Trader Vic’s or a cheeseburger.  I wanted something good. Not knowing anything about Atlanta dining, we searched for Atlanta’s best restaurants and found Rathbun’s. I have written about Nashville’s booming food scene and know that we have some great restaurants. Rathbun’s would fit right in. The duck breast was awesome but not as good as the appetizer. If you ever go to Rathbun’s, then you have to get the Pan Fried Kefalotiri Cheese. It’s the most awesome thing ever.

Yesterday, we packed up to head home but not before going to Lenox Square Mall. I have heard of people going to Atlanta just to shop, and now I know why. It’s a cool mall. Wait, I went to Atlanta just to shop didn’t I? Weird. Anyway, we drove back to Tennessee and crossed Monteagle Mountain once again. This time I just hummed.

Picture This – Keel Drug

5 Apr

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A few years ago, I found my way to Ballinger, Texas, a little town south of San Angelo. It sits a far piece off the interstate, and nothing of great historical importance happened there. It is simply a little town like thousands of little towns across the country. However, it was a place that I needed to go, and the need was to walk into Keel Drug Store.

This is the story of Keel Drug; the family who used to own it; and the reason I needed to walk through its doors.

Gene Keel was raised at the Masonic Home Orphanage in Fort Worth, Texas during the Great Depression. As the name implies, it was filled with kids who had little chance to succeed in the world, and Little Gene Keel was one of them. However, good things happened for him at the school. Although girls and boys were kept apart, he met his future wife at the home. He also found a chance with the football coach, Rusty Russell.

The story of the football team is a fascinating one and has been chronicled by Jim Dent in Twelve Mighty Orphans: The Inspiring True Story of the Mighty Mights Who Ruled Texas Football. A team that could not afford a football to practice with defeated almost everyone that they played, from small schools not much different from them to the big schools in the cities. Little Gene Keel was the quarterback for those teams and parlayed that experience into the store pictured above.

Attending Rice University on a football scholarship, Gene got married; became a pharmacist; and opened a drug store in Ballinger. He became well-known in Ballinger for providing medicine to those who couldn’t afford it and for serving the best treats in town at his soda fountain.

Gene Keel grew up in the Depression and lived in Ballinger, Texas. I grew up in the 1980s and live in the middle of Tennessee. What’s my connection?

Gene’s son, Johnny Keel was raised in the aisles of Keel Drug and on the links of the local country club. He grew up with his dad’s personality and flair but not with his football abilities. Johnny’s talents were with the golf club, and they took him to the golf team at the University of Texas.

Johnny stayed in Austin; opened a chain of health clubs; and became well-known throughout the city. Of course, owning a health club involves more than just running the day-to-day operations. At times, you have to attend conventions to keep up with the latest innovations. It was at one of these conventions that Johnny met my aunt, the owner of a local health club.

Johnny married my aunt, and, after some time living in Austin, they returned to middle Tennessee. Johnny became as well-known here as he was in Texas. He became involved in the community, and almost everyone came to like him for his enthusiastic outlook on life. He was fun-loving and wanted everyone else to have fun along with him.

I can’t remember all of the times that he and I sat at a Blackjack table together. Johnny always sat on first base, and I always sat on third base. He also tried to pass on his love of golf to me. We played many times, but I never grasped the game. Despite my lack of ability, we always had a great time.

Johnny’s outlook on life was brighter than anyone else I have ever known, and that outlook was needed when he was diagnosed with cancer. I will not go through the details, but he and my aunt fought the disease together. They tried everything to beat cancer and convinced everyone that they were going to succeed. They succeeded for ten years until Johnny could fight no more.

That’s why I went to Keel Drug in Ballinger, Texas. Johnny talked about his hometown so much that I wanted to see it for myself. Perhaps, it would help me to understand the strength and positive outlook that came from him everyday. Perhaps, there was something in Ballinger that made him help others who had cancer while he needed help himself. However, none of that was in Ballinger. It was in Johnny, and, he got it from Gene.

Johnny was still alive when I went to Ballinger, and my plan was to call him from the store. However, I couldn’t get a cell signal in the little town and had to call him when I got near a tower.

Johnny is gone, but his memory remains with everyone who knew him. His work to help others also remains with Go Johnny Go, a 5K fundraiser that my aunt started after his death. If you would like to donate or learn more about Johnny, then go to www.gojohnnygorun.com.

Picture This – The Shidoni Gallery

25 Jan

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Santa Fe is full of artisans and art galleries. This has made the city a destination for art lovers all over the world. A walk around the plaza is a walk from one impressive gallery to another. Paintings. Sculptures, Jewelry. Pottery. Everything can be found in downtown Santa Fe.

However, my favorite, the Shidoni Gallery, sits on the outskirts of Santa Fe. Anyone who likes metallic art has to turn onto the dirt drive of the gallery and explore the grounds. They will see art and art in the making.

The display room is filled with smaller pieces and serves as an entrance to the pouring room. That’s where everyone can watch liquid metal being poured into molds. Eventually, this metal will cool and turn into something cooler, like the giant skull in the photograph.

The skull sits in the sculpture garden that covers the complex. People can walk through the garden and examine the sculptures up close. They vary from the realistic to the abstract and everything in between. Although there is activity all around, it’s as if you have stepped into another world – a world where nature and art collides to create an unusual combination of beauty.