How did it get to be July? How is it that the summer is blazing past me while I am starting to carry that palid glow of too much time under florescent lights? When did I get old and Fourth of July stopped being about fireworks and hot dogs and swim suits while I ran around in the sprinklers or went swimming at the local pool?
When did it all get so difficult?
Happy Thoughful Fourth to everyone. Stay safe and have fun!
Last night I had a chance to attend a concert at a fave local venue. The show was Kenny Chesney and he played the outdoor Shoreline Amphitheater locally.
Kenny’s appearance, being a good country boy and all, meant I pulled on my fave pair of Fat Babies and hit the show to sing along with the crowd and Mr. Chesney. (you know him, he’s the guy that married Renee Zellweger for like, a minute….)
Being a good New Mexico girl, I’m a pretty good fan of country music. I’m always utterly surprised at how many fans there are out here in the Bay Area. Now, the friend I went with bummed a cigarette off a guy who had come over from Modesto. Ah, Modesto, good farm country, that makes sense. But there are a lot of “city folk” who love them some country music as much as anyone from the outskirts. And that always makes me a little happy. (and yes, I know today’s country acts are hardly country anymore…more like rock ‘n roll in a straw hat with a Bell Ranch crease)
I saw young kids that I *know* have been raised here in the Bay Area, raised among the people and the concrete and the hustle and bustle and they were singing along word for word to “Back Where I Come From”, Chesney’s ode to small town livin’.
I smiled. Because I knew these kids, though they loved the song, and sang with gusto, in a lot of ways, couldn’t possibly understand.
And it made me thankful, again, for the multi-millionth time about where *I* come from.
Oh, the simple pleasure of knowing a place where a grain elevator and a gas station/Snappy Mart are the only the only things in town (like here or here or here. Kids are homeschooled, folks live in wide open spaces where they run cattle or horses or corn or cotton or whatever comes from the land.
Or knowing how fun it is to dance a two-step on a hardwood floor with a boy you like. Or even a boy you don’t like but is a good dancer.
Or cramming the cab of a pickup with as many friends as will fit and riding to the river to have a little fun while the swirling water rushes by.
And knowing what it means to “live simple”.
Oh Fair New Mexico, how I miss you……
So, it’s out. You can buy one (inventories permitting).
Cancer hasn’t been cured. Kids are still starving in some parts of our world. Bad people do bad things. Good people still try to be good. No one has been healed. No shift in the karma of the universe has been made.
An electronic gadget has made its way into the hands of wealthy people willing to splash out $600 on a phone.
Can we all go on about our business now?
(ooh, what an iBitter little girl I am!)
As mentioned yesterday, my quest for “feel good” stories continues on, unencumbered.
When I read the headline of this ABQjournal article “Recent Widow Gets Back Her Stolen Car”, I thought it was right up my alley, and it was, in a way.
But I found a lump in my throat by the end.
Alia Dahl, a very pregnant Alia Dahl, is having a pretty rough month.
Her husband, Joel, stationed in Iraq, was due to be home in about a week. July 9, actually. He would have missed the birth of his son, but he would have been home.
I say “would” because Joel became yet another sad victim of the war on June 23.
The week after the death of her husband, her car was stolen.
Leaving her about a week away from having her labor induced and without her husband, car, or her packed overnight bag to go to the hospital.
I think Alia must be a stronger person than I am, because I’m not quite sure how I would have managed to stay upright and deal with all of that.
But here’s the part to feel good about. I’m not the only one who felt this nice lady got a real bad deal.
People starting taking up donations, pitching in, and in 24 hours $18,000 was raised to get Alia a new car.
The police also got pretty tenacious on the search for the lost car.
And you know what? They found it.
So Alia and her mom went to pick it up on Thursday. Alia was in good spirits, happily talking to reporters and answering questions.
When her water broke. She delivered a baby boy. Mom and son are healthy, happy, and they endure.
She even had the strength to make a joke, a joke referencing her husband:
“‘Just like his father, he has to be the center of attention,’ she said, laughing and holding her abdomen.”
*gulp*
Here’s to the abundance of everlasting human spirit found in Alia. Here’s hoping she can rebuild her life and carry on, for her herself, for her husband, for their son.
Wow.
For some reason this story has really got me by the heart.
My past week has been a flurry of ferocity in the run up to the release of an over-hyped product. I keep feeling like I’ve lost perspective.
This article, this story, helped, a little………
Happy Friday to all.
As chronicled here in the past weeks, I’m *over* the hype around Paris and prison and the iFrapping phone-that-costs-too-much, and I’m weary of sad news from the world of over-hyped media.
I’ve been making it a point to look for odd, quirky and feel good stories.
And boy, have I got one today.
Shockingly, it comes to us from my old source of snarkiness, ABQjournal columnist Polly Summar. She’s been minding her manners lately and writing some pretty good lifestyle pieces. I give it up for Polly, she’s got a good sort of Midwestern sensibility about the quirkiness she encounters in Santa Fe. Go Polly!
Today she brings to us a piece about Forrest “Rusty” Rutherford. Not being from Santa Fe myself, I’d not heard of the so called “Sombrero Man”.
It is guys like this that make a town great. San Francisco has it’s “Bush Man” (among others), Chicago has Woo-Woo Man, New York has the guitar playing guy in his underbritches. It’s the kind of stuff of legendary tourist lore. It’s something that can bind people together, make a visitor feel like they are “in on the joke”.
Santa Fe has Sombrero Man (among others). Seems that Sombrero Man has been collecting sombreros and related gear and gadgets for several years. He’s built up quite a collection and is often seen about town wearing ’em. Sombrero Man has a regular everyday job (but that’s boring, please, let’s talk about who the man *really* is!), but spends his time and resources donning sombreros and making people smile.
And as I struggle with my own cosmic agony, fighting against my silly office job that is causing me to hover on the edge of utter breakdown, crying out into the dark night that “this is not who I AM! THIS IS NOT WHAT I WAS MEANT TO BE!!” I am heartened to see someone “doing it”.
Go on Sombrero Man! You wear your stuff with pride! You show the world who you are! Live your dream!
For those in the area, Sombrero Man makes his first “official” appearance of the season at the Fourth of July Pancake Breakfast on the Plaza. If you see him, tell him that a little gal in California thinks he rocks.
