And still they worry

I am a proud graduate of New Mexico State University, as are my sister and brother before me. Attending NMSU comes with certain…er…traditions. Unavoidable. A right of passage. Integral to one’s education in the relatively sleepy town of Las Cruces.

You see, there ain’t a lot going on in Las Cruces. It’s a lovely town, mild, temperate, a great place to retire. It’s hard to be a fresh-faced college kid of, oh say, eighteen, away from home for the first time and looking to find a little fun. In the U.S., you have to be 21 to get into the clubs, but just across the border, being eighteen gets you in the door.

On that fateful day my parents dropped me off at school, as the engine of our old blue Blazer fired up, my mom admonished me, for about the one millionth time, to “stay away from Juarez“. Convinced, was she, of bad doings and some sort of old fashioned notion of “white slavery” rings running rampant.

I, being the most behaved of the three children in our family did, in fact, stay away from Juarez…at least for a while. But soon enough, the lure was too tempting. “All the kids were doing it”, as they say, and so I loaded up with a group of irresponsible, ne’er do wells that I’d met in the dorms. Off we went careening into the night down I-25 to I-10, slipping through downtown El Paso, parking near the train tracks, walking through a pretty seedy neighborhood, and across the bridge at the Avenue of the Americas, up and over the Rio Grande.

I remember huffing and puffing across the bridge (it’s a fairly steep span), and looking down at the water, thinking it not like any other part of the Rio Grande I’d ever seen. Halfway over the bridge you officially cross into Mexico. We paid our toll on the other end to get through the border station, a few coins, I recall, and then there we were. In another country. The stop signs read “alto” and I wondered what in the hell a kid like me, pretty sheltered in my upbringing, was doing there, and how I’d get home. Nothing that a two dollar bucket of Coronas and a bunch of tequila poppers couldn’t get me past…..

Ah, I remember it clearly now, some twenty years hence, the sharp sound of shot glasses slamming into the wooden bar, non-stop, all night long while crazy disco club music played in the background.

I can’t imagine now, in my adult conservatism, actually walking DOWN the weirdly blown-foam padded-wall tunnel of the place I think was called The Alive that was essentially underground ( : shudder: ). The place next door, I remember, sold yards of beer (the boys always went in for that. I couldn’t drink beer that way, the foam would make me feel claustrophobic). Those places were right over the border. There was a place, farther in, run by a man everyone just referred to as “the albino”. Everyone knew who he was. An American who owned a bar in Juarez and catered to the college kids, even selling a concoction called “The Aggie” that almost no one I knew drank. They also sold these nice poor boy sandwiches that were tasty, and good to help absorb some of the tequila and Corona coursing through the veins.

Luckily for me, I’ve never enjoyed being over the top drunk, and I was just scared enough (thanks to very, very tough parents) that I never let myself get too out of control, fearful of what might happen. School legends of poor treatment at the hands of the Federales ran through my head. What that means, of course, is that I was in charge of my friends who didn’t have the self-control that I tried to have.

I have dragged many a drunk friend over the border, slapped them back to consciousness and demanded they repeat the words “United States Citizen!”, the secret password to get back into the States. I have kicked and smacked at small children who tried to steal the rings off the hand of my friend (I, myself, never wore jewelry when I went to Juarez. That advice, along with “wear shoes you can run in” stuck with me, and I always followed both). I have ridden home in cars with people driving that I knew probably shouldn’t be driving.

And when I think back on how stupid I was, how stupid we all were, I’m thankful, like drop-to-my-knees-and-give-thanks-to-whatever-entity-you-choose thankful that I made it out alive, unscathed, and here to write wistfully about it on the other side.

So what got me to step into the “way back machine” and have a memory jaunt this evening? Well, ABQjournal blogger Bruce Daniels has a piece today titled “Aggies Back in Class”. In it, he references two articles from the Las Cruces Sun News that are printed in keeping with annual traditions. Classes have begun again at NMSU, and with the surge of incoming Freshman, the articles are aimed at keeping kids from slipping across the border and enjoying all the delights the Mexican border town has to offer.

Some kids might heed the warning. Parents will be fearful. And kids will still go. I remember tales while in school of many a kid not making it home. Cars rolled on I-10. Boys who got in fights and were tossed in jail. Friends who got the crap beat out of them trying to cross back over. A lot of scary shit. And still, it won’t keep kids from going. For better or worse, it’s a rite of passage.

I hope, tonight, from the safety of my red couch, that these newbs, these fresh-faced kids, these young folks with everything ahead and little to lose will keep it safe. Enjoy the freedom of being eighteen and away from parental control and explore the bounds of adulthood. Figure out how much tequila is too much, respect yourself enough to get yourself safely home. And most of all, have fun (while wearing shoes that make it possible to run, if necessary).

In a weird way, after all these memories, I crave a shot of tequila topped by Seven-Up, slammed into the bar, rapidly consumed and chased by a cheap Coronita.

By the by…the epilogue to my story is thus…..

It took me many years post-graduation and into adulthood until I finally figured out how my Puritanical mom seemed to know *so* much about Juarez. One day she sheepishly admitted that she and her roommate (my mom lived in Albuquerque when she was eighteen, working as a secretary) used to jump in the car on a Friday afternoon, zoom down to El Paso, find a couple military guys from Fort Bliss, and have themselves a party over the border. I’m sure it was all innocent fun back in the 1950’s, but still kids went across the border to have a little dangerous fun. She knows that during my college years I went to Juarez, but we choose not to talk about such things…….

Sure could use, a little good news…today

Been a bit maudlin of late, I admit, my blog reflecting my mood. I’m depressed, no two ways about it, and a variety of culprits are the cause.

So today I thought, after many whinging and moaning posts, I’d try to find something upbeat to write about.

If it doesn’t skeeve you out, it’s actually good news. Something I knew to be true after my own non-official analysis while visiting the Sun City where my mom, aunt and uncle are current residents.

The old folks? They be getting’ *down*.

As reported by the quite respectable New England Journal of Medicine in an article in the Albuquerque Tribune.

“… more than a quarter of those up to age 85 reported having sex in the previous year.”

“Sex with a partner in the previous year was reported by 73 percent of people ages 57 to 64; 53 percent of those ages 64 to 75, and 26 percent of people 75 to 85. Of those who were active, most said they did it two to three times a month or more.”

Well all right!

Let’s overturn that “crusty mean old fart” stereotype and re-imagine our seniors as calm, happy and sporting that “knowing smile”.

I think it’s great. I really do. I have been impressed by the folks in the community where my mom lives. They are a bunch of vibrant, active people and since exercise is a great social outlet, my mom is in the best shape she’s seen in a long time, as are most of the folks who live there. No sitting in a rocking chair whiling away the days, nope. These folks are *living* their twilight years. And I, for one, support it wholeheartedly!

I know that a lot of the folks in that community are dating and yes, having sex. Why not? These are some of the less stressful years of their lives. Kids are raised, no more nine to five, they’ve paid their dues and are financially set. Why not have a little fun?

I like what one woman who was interviewed had to say, “At age 79, she said, ‘I don’t ever answer personal questions’ about sex. But she added, ‘I certainly have a zest for life.'”

Mmmm, zesty!

State Approved Yummies

This past weekend I had a hankering. I’m a bit depressed and no small amount of stressed out and I was in need of some comfort food. You know, the something like mom used to make.

I woke up Sunday morning with a strong hankering for Biscochitos. So I gazed over the recipe, decided on Crisco over traditional lard, looked in my liquor cabinet to see if had the requisite brandy (I didn’t) and set off to the grocer for all the goods. I already had anise seed so I was ahead of the game……

You have to understand, this was a rare bit of homemakering that I’m not used to. Neither is my long suffering, but very patient partner. But he knows he gets to enjoy the fruits of my nesting, so he’s all good.

I mixed and blended, whipped the eggs, poured the brandy (as a kid when I made them I always found a way to sample the brandy as it went in, just a small teaspoon full for me, and it always made me go “bleah! Why would anyone drink this?” As a grown up, just the smell made me “ew”, so no sampling this time…..)

Soon I had a stiff dough to work with and I cursed while rolling it out and cutting the individual cookies. As is tradition, I burned one batch (I *always* burn at least one batch while making ANY kind of cookie). But soon I’d turned out a pile of the sweet, but not too sweet, treats. I shared some with the neighbors. I ate my fill until I was sick, and then came the litmus test. My Brooklyn boyfriend gave them a nibble and declared them as addictive as I know them to be (he rocks, by the way).

So I was all up in my Biscochito bliss when I read this article in the Las Cruces Sun News.

The ice cream mix, pecans and Biscochitos, sounds divine. But what caught my eye is that I guess I somehow missed that in 1989 the New Mexico State Legislature made the Biscochito the “official state cookie”.

I *had* heard that the current plump Governor loves these same anise treats turned out by the chef at the Governor’s mansion. Wouldn’t that be great? To have someone turn out a batch of delicious just like that, whenever you want? Wow. I’d be a plump Governor too….

So not only did I make comfort food, I made NM State approved comfort food. Go me!

By the way, the recipe I use comes from the “Cocinas de New Mexico” cookbook put out by PNM. The recipe is online here. That “Cocinas de New Mexico” cookbook is a dandy if you don’t already have one. I have always used the quite old version my mom has but I will probably order one of my own.

Just….yum.

Artist Diana Bryer’s “Making Biscochitos”

Thoughts from the "Active Senior" community

So this is day four of round two of being “care giver” to my mom. I’m happy to report she’s doing a lot better. We got good reports from the doctor yesterday and she seems strong enough now to care for herself with a little help from my aunt and uncle. So yay. I get to go home tomorrow.

This has left me, once again, thoughtful. My mom will be back up on her feet and taking her water aerobic class and walking the indoor track and going to lunch and being a very “active senior” in no time. But I know that the time where she’ll be “down” for good is coming. I’ve not wanted to think about it a whole lot, really. Probably burying my head in the sand.

It made all of my siblings and I happy when she moved to this community. It gave her freedom, independence, but some security she didn’t have living in rural New Mexico. She was doing so great until she took ill. This has sure been a bad bout. She’s still fairly young, just 72, health is great and strong despite my dad’s passing two years ago.

But I know time is the big enemy. You can’t stop it. Can’t fight it, it just…happens.

Meanwhile, I think living here among the viejos for a couple weeks has had an effect on my own mind. It sure is a different way of life here. Obviously there are old folks with some money to be able to live here. My mom lucked out, was able to sell the house in New Mexico and roll that into a small condo apartment. But there are these huge fabulous houses on the golf course. Active seniors whipping up and down the road in golf carts. Slow moving Caddy’s up and down the parking lots. People talking about their other home in Michigan or Minnesota or wherever it’s cold and then their third home over by their kids. My little mom has her one home, this small but nicely made place.

And everyone knows what everyone is doing. It is like a damn college dorm here. Hell, even *I* know that X lady recently died, suddenly, and Y gentleman sold his small home for a big one because he moved in with his lady friend, but they broke up now he wants to buy his old house back but the market is soft right now, and oh by the way he paid < insert dollar amount to the dollar > for that place on the golf course, and so on.

Gotta give it up to these folks. The dating scene is rampant. Word to the gentlemen reading this: Take good care of yourself. Single older men are a *hot* property around here. You’ll be up to your eyeballs in lady attention if you can just manage to stay alive. I’d say the men to woman ratio is at least 2 to 1 if not higher.

There is a different in the pace of life here. All the active seniors look in askance at me as I spend my days on my computer…working. That was the deal I struck with my boss. I could have the time but I had to stay connected. They keep going “why don’t you come over here and talk with us”. For these folks, the biggest thing they have to do today is get some lunch. Then maybe a trip to the pool. Late afternoon happy hour then some dinner.

Hell, they’ve earned it. More power to them that they can make it work. Including my modest little mom.

Today I pretty much hate my job. But maybe this is my penance so one day I, too, can live in a modern community and plan my days around the Scrabble competitions, the Mah Jong classes, and meeting friends to walk on the indoor track to catch up on the latest gossip.

Maybe if I’m smart, and a bit of a spendthrift, I might one day live the “active senior” lifestyle.

But that is a LOT of years, a lot of work emails, a lot of conference calls via a crappy cell phone, and a lot of reports to my boss away.

For today, back to it. I am an “active thirtysomething” which means I still gotta pull a paycheck.

*grumble*

Second verse, same as the first….

Back on the road. Mom’s better but not up and around. My brother was here for a week so I’m the “changing of the guard”. Brought my PowerBook this time and am working and keeping up with stuff.

So. Bah.

On to today’s rant.

File this under: I don’t get it. (There is a lot I don’t get, shall I make a list?)

1) The iPhone. Mein gott the press on this thing. And the ads. And the articles. And the blogs.

For a phone.

I know, I know, it is a phone that does *cool things*….but…in the end…it’s a phone.

I’ve actually seen the thing up close (albeit through glass) at MacWorld. It is, truly, lickably well designed, but still.

It’s a phone. For $500.

They are speculating people will line up around the block to get their hands on one….

: shrug :

2) Paris Hilton. What exactly has she done to be famous? Oh yeah, she’s rich and skinny and beautiful? Good lard, the woman got a DUI then got another one while on a suspended license. Go to jail already you spoiled brat!

You know, I read how when the judge decided to send her back to jail, she cried and called out “Mom!”

You know what my mom would have done? Thumped my head with a wooden spoon and told me to suck it up and do my jail time.

Why is this woman and her problems in the headlines of magazines and newspapers across the country?

So much so that even the ABQjournal’s venerable Jim Belshaw name checks her in his June 10th column.

: shrug :

3) Fred Thompson’s alleged thoughts of running for President. Dude, do or do not, there is no trying an exploratory committee.

I like the guy…as an actor.

Is the race so lacking a good candidate from either party that ANY person who even “thinks about” running is suddenly big news?

Oh, yeah, I guess that’s true. Sorry Bill.

: shrug :

4) The need people have to be assh*les at the airport. Ok, sure, this isn’t “national” news, but damn people, when a nice girl such as me *politely* asks “Is this the A line” it is COMMON $%#@ing courtesy to 1) acknowledge that person actually exists, and 2) answer the question….a simple NOD OR SHAKE OF THE HEAD WILL DO!

Oh, and I won’t EVEN get started on the chippy who, yes literally, ROLLED HER EYES when I ordered my coffee beverage. Yes, I want it decaf…and soy….and sugar free vanilla. I don’t think this is a big deal. You are a coffee peddler for $%#@’s sake! Just take my money and make my beverage and DON’T GIVE ME ATTITUDE!

I was actually happy to enter the old folks community where my mom lives. A nod and a wave from an elderly person is *quite* appreciated on this crap day.

Ok, now I’m all fired up again. Going to go make a cool beverage and think about happier things……

Like horses, and cute boys, and boat drinks…..