Category: homesick

Misty Soot and Cinder Colored Memories

Yesterday I talked a bit about sort of growing up in “rough” circumstances. Today, over this memorial weekend, I find myself lost in a few memories.

Perusing the ABQjournal today, I came across an article titled “Cumbres & Toltec Railroad Ready to Roll This Weekend”.

And it brought a smile of memory to my face.

This is one of those “good” times from childhood, one of those places I can go and touch in my mind when things get tough. When I need a place to escape.

My dad, type A until his body couldn’t support it anymore, did love to take his family out on trips. He loved to go camping, road trips, up in the mountains, and to go see cool things that appealed to his engineering sensibilities.

One of the many trips we went on was to ride the Cumbres &Toltec Railroad. I don’t have a lot of memories from childhood, but tatters show up here and there.

One clear memory I have is being in Chama. We’d driven up there the day before, found some campground somewhere (this part is fuzzy). Dad set up our Apache Pop Up Trailer (that link shows a photo of one *exactly* like the one we had, tho ours was in better condition), the kind with the hand crank, and we spent the night. (I always had to sleep with my sister (bah!) on one end, my folks on the other, my brother in the table-converts-to-a-bed in the middle)

Then of course, we had to get up at the buttcrack of dawn to go catch the train. Dad would roust us out with his old fashioned values which included that sleeping in was a sin.

I recall drinking warm Carnation Instant Breakfast from a Styrofoam cup while we stood around in the freezing cold outside the ticket office in Chama, tickets in hand ready to take the ride.

I checked the schedule page and the earliest train now leaves at 10:00am, but I’m pretty sure we took off way earlier than that. We did the Chama to Antonito and back route.

It was one of those grumblies in the morning, but once we got going on the narrow gauge rail, I was INTO it. Great quote from a Jetsetters Magazine article “Aspen leaves dance in the glittering afternoon sunlight and the train makes a rhythmic, confident, ca-chunk, ca-chunk, ca-chunk sound, as if to say, I’m a train that knows what I’m doing.” Perfect description.

This ancient train chugging up a hill. Beautiful scenery all around, mountains, trees, green. I’d lean my head out the glassless window to take it all in and get a face full of soot for my trouble.

As the rails curve and turn up the climb, you can look back at the caboose or forward and see the engine chugging along.

About halfway through, I begged my mom for money for snacks and purchased some awful junk foodie treat. Beef jerky and Funyuns I believe.

We arrived in Antonito, Colorado grimy but happy. Antonito itself is little more than a touristy place high in the mountains. We shopped while my dad and brother explored. I’m sure my lifelong love of tchochkies overtook me and I spent hard earned allowance on items imprinted with names and places. I know that I did but couldn’t tell you what. The clearest memories are the morning, the cold, and being on the train. All the rest is a haze.

But I do remember it was one of those trips where my family acted like a family. We all enjoyed each other’s company. My parents aired out their three children, exposed them to the outdoors and gave them something to learn about.

And a happy memory, one that makes me smile. It’s what I’ll choose to hold onto this Memorial Day weekend.

***Many thanks to Jetsetters Magazine for providing me photos and memories. Many of the shots linked on this page look pretty much like the ones still stuck in a photo album that I took with my Kodak Flip Flash Camera.

Update: I pulled out the old photo album with the FlipFlash photos….August 1978 *coff*. That’s when this went down…nearly twenty *coff* years ago…..*coff*

Viva los libros!

I’m a fan of books, I just am. I have to say that The Flamenco Academy (chronicled here a few days back) has really fired me up lately. I haven’t read a book in a long while that made me feel like there is hope for popular fiction. And that a book set in New Mexico was so well done makes me double happy.

So I know this has been covered plenty of places elsewhere, but here’s my top five list of the best works of New Mexico fiction. These are just the ones that are in my opinion, the books I read that make me proud to be a New Mexican.

Without further ado (in no particular order):

1) Red Sky at Morning by Richard Bradford

This is a quintessential read for anyone living in New Mexico. It ranks not just as one of my fave NM books, but one of my fave books of all time. The main character, Josh is brought from Alabama to New Mexico by his parents and is introduced to the clannish people of Northern New Mexico including the bully Chango. The scene where he and his buddy get liquored up remains a classic. I almost always quote from it when I, myself, tie one on. A classic, truly. And an easy choice for the list.

2) Bless me Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya

One of those books that gave me a wry smile as I read it. One of those where you nod as you read, thinking “yeah, that’s familiar”. Anaya is a beautiful writer and it is an honor to be a fellow New Mexican with a man of his caliber. This coming of age story is a nice contrast of old vs new, how Hispanic culture rolls into American culture in a way that is beautifully unique to New Mexico. It’s lyrical in the storytelling and a must read.

3) The Milagro Beanfield War by John Nichols

Yeah. This had to be here. You know it did. When I’m homesick I put on the movie to see the land as much as anything. It’s a salve for my soul, always. The book was a little tough for me to get through, but worth the effort. It really captures the feeling of that time in New Mexico in the 1970’s. It always takes me right back to that time, effortlessly.

4) Cavern by Jake Page

A thriller about a group of spelunkers who explore a hidden cavern and discover a near extinct species of bear…who is none to happy to be bothered. Not a particularly great novel by most standards, but it does speak to a bunch of interesting things including a fairly detailed explanation about how the caverns, including Carlsbad Caverns, were formed. Both my parents worked for a while at the WIPP site, so this book also showed the ongoing battle of all the government agencies involved out there. DOE, Environmental groups, BLM and private interests do war daily and there is some discussion of WIPP in the book and how it may affect things in that geographic area. My mom turned me on to this book and laughed at how true to life some parts of the book were portrayed. Working at WIPP left her a bit…scarred…so it was good for her to see it in print, sort of validating. For me, it was a fascinating read and name checked a lot of places I know from living in Carlsbad, including some truly dive bars (including one frequented by miners, ranchers, roughnecks and college kids. They stopped serving beer in bottles because there had been too many fights. But on a good night, the dancing was unbeatable).

5) Anything for Billy by Larry McMurtry

Ok, not technically a New Mexico book but about a New Mexico legend (Feh to the Texas town that claims ownership. FEH! I say!) and certainly New Mexico figures into the story. I am a massive fan of McMurtry and this is my favorite of all his books. He portrays Billy as a young, impulsive, spoiled, petulant brat. It’s fabulous. To me it was a fresh look at an old legend and to do that takes talent that Mr. McMurtry has in spades.

You’ll note my list is strangely devoid of Hillerman books. I’m actually not a fan. My mom is an avid reader of his stuff. I am not. : shrug : I’ve got no issues with Hillerman, it’s just not my taste.

Lois Duncan is another author I’m proud to know is New Mexican. As a kid I avidly read all her stuff. Loved her writing and always got geeked out when we saw her at the Coronado Club at Kirtland Airforce Base. My mom would always point her out. Her husband worked at Sandia Labs like my dad so she’d wait there (like we did) for her husband to get off work. Those were fun sunny summer days as a family. For some odd reason I associate Duncan with that time in my life.

I know there are probably a bunch of good choices I’m missing, but for now, that’s my list. I reserve the right to add, delete and change the list as we go.

Belated Feliz Cinco de Mayo!!

Woot! Would have posted on “the day” but was out of town enjoying an amazing time away with that wonderful man who takes such good care of me. A much needed break from the hectic world.

In our luck, while traveling around Napa, we caught a fun Cinco de Mayo parade. I’ve not really celebrated Cinco since I left New Mexico for a variety of reasons but this parade was reason enough to celebrate…and gave me a deep pang of homesickness…which can be delicious.

Enjoy!

Read the sign on the little girl’s bike…

(All photographs by and the property of Karen Fayeth)

Uh oh…here it comes.

In a few more days.

A birthday.

Not a milestone year, but another year that reminds me that I’m not getting any younger…

That I wasted the carefree years when youth and time were on my side….

That I should be a hell of a lot farther along in my career…

and in my personal life…

That I should have these inner demons by the tail. Demons that have chased me since childhood, that invade my life, my relationships, my dreams, my thoughts. After this many years of fighting the good fight, can’t the soldiers just lay down arms and have a backyard bbq?

When can my demons and I share a frosty beverage, some charcoal cooked meat and learn to peacefully coexist? I don’t ask the demons to leave, no, they are an essential part of the human existence. When can we learn to live peaceably in the same space? That is the question.

I am the sum of all my parts, both good and bad. Some days, like today, I absolutely love who I am and what I’ve become.

Somedays I can’t tolerate being in my own skin. Like last week.

When did I go from being invincible to wondering if I should see a doctor about every ache and pain?

When did thoughts of my own mortality pervade my life?

Remember as a kid when you ran, it was like you were running SO fast and the wind made a whooshing sound in your ears and you felt like you could run forever and thoughts of dying, heartache, agony and disorder never crossed your little mind?

When does cynicism and melancholy take the place of easy joy? When did it swap that I have to work at staying happy instead of just *being* happy?

And when, fer cripes sakes, did we stop getting a big juicy birthday cake with a big passel of candles on top and awkwardly wrapped toys to celebrate another trip around the sun?

Where is my piñata?!?!

Ah well, birthday snarkiness is my new tradition. This should hang around a few more days, by the way, and I’ll be back to regularly scheduled rantiness.

My new birth year resolutions:

1) Hug my cat more, despite the fact she doesn’t like being hugged.

2) Hug my man more….he rather enjoys it

3) Tell myself I love myself one hell of a lot more.

4) Extend a hand to those demons and invite them to stop growling so loud

5) Eat. More. Cake.

To reunite…or not.

I’m thinking not.

This summer, I’ve been notified, is the twenty-year reunion of my high school. Oh sob.

I declined to attend the ten year. I hated high school. Oh, the school itself was fine, but that time of my life was….not great.

I didn’t have many friends in high school. I was well liked by all accounts, but out of a class of 550 graduates, I would venture I only knew a few.

And I only had two real close friends that I ran around with.

The closer of the two, an amazing girl full of life and vibrancy and a laugh that would light up the stars…she would be the only reason I’d even want to go. To sit with her and issue the snark and self-deprecating humor and assure ourselves that we are cool despite all evidence to the contrary.

Sadly that beautiful sense of humorous snark was extinguished by cancer in 2005. It hardly seems the same without her.

The other is a lovely woman who has married and has three children. She is a stay at home mom and has become quite religious. I’m happy for her, she is happy with her life. It’s just that…she and I no longer have anything in common.

The rehashed conversation about how I remain jealous that SHE got to date the star football player AND wear his letterman’s jacket while I never not once dated in high school will only last for a few minutes.

Then we’re left with…silence.

I looked at the list of other folks who are attending and I sort of know a few but nothing there is compelling me to get on a plane and spend three days with a wan smile on my face trying to pretend like 1) this is fun and 2) this used to be fun.

The gang is meeting up Friday night at Billy’s Long Bar. An Albuquerque institution, indeed. There are probably bits of my DNA in the thrashed bar and the barf stained carpet. But that was a lifetime ago. That was a different me. And I’m disinclined to revisit that person I once was. I’ve come a long way, baby.

So despite the fact that I “should” or “it would be fun” I think I’m going to pass on the reunion again this year.

What I can’t seem to get over is…why do I feel guilty about that?

Oh the life of a recovering Catholic…….