Happenstance, life happens

Happenstance

MARCH 7, 2011

life happens

Happenstance How You Can Help Spread the Word

Happenstance e-mail the

link to your friends and contact lists

Happenstance

is accessible at www.happenstancelifehappens.com

Inside this Issue

• From the editor, p 4 • A Musing, Spring, p 5 • Voices, p 6 • Line Dancing, p 7 • Big Brothers Big Sisters, p 8 • UWC African Chorus, p 10 • Duke Sundt, p 12 • Spring into Being: Poetry, p 14 • Meredith Britt, p 16 • Recipes & Chat Someone’s in the Kitchen, p 17 • Eclectically Yours, p. 18 • Yesterday, p 19 • Tiger Lilly continues, p 20

Books by F.S. Vander Meer

Available at Happenstance • 614 8th Street Tome on the Range Bookstore 158 Bridge Street

Not Just Another Day is a series of daily reflections that celebrate the gift of life.

Based on the author’s Christian faith tradition the book uses Bible passages, prayers and readings to capture the common experience of living a life of faith in an ever-changing world.

In Future Imperfect conflicting forces control two individuals seeking stability and sanity amid escalating political and environmental chaos. Their lives are fraught with lies, treachery, and an altered environment.

In The Ballad of Bawdy McClure short hauler Jake Casey is confronted with the age old question: Who can you trust?

From the opening scene in which he finds the body of his murdered friend to the end he is constantly questioning the motives of those closest to him.

Become a Fan blogalicious

http://sharonvandermeer.blogspot.com The official Happenstance Blog

(I even update it frequently, sort of)

Call for Content

Happenstance April

A First Monday Publication April 4 Issue • In the Garden

Think gardening when you submit: • Poetry and Essays

• Short Fiction or Memoirs • Artist Feature

• Book and Entertainment Reviews

Features to Look For • Tiger Lilly • A Musing

• Recipes & Chat

• Happenstance Kitchen • Eclectically Yours

In the coming months submit content for: April: In the Garden May: Super Moms June: Fab Fathers

July: Coolest Country

August: History’s Mysteries September: Happy Har vest

Content contributions will be thoughtfully considered.

Deadline for submission is 2 weeks prior to publication, no exceptions.

Happenstance, Life Happens

614 8th Street • PO Box 187 • Las Vegas, NM 87701 505 617-0839 happenstance@happenstancelifehappens.com

Happenstance Contributors

Kathy Allen loves to cook and loves to share her recipes with friends. She is a wife, mom and grandmother. Among her favorite activities are card making and singing. Her digital recipe book, "Someone's in the Kitchen," is available at Happenstance.

Nancy Colalillo is the owner of Tome on the Range Bookstore in Las Vegas, N.M. and is an advocate for the printed word and independent business. Her wonderful store is a meeting place for book clubs, salons and writer events.

Pamela G. Daves is a physical therapist with a law degree, or perhaps an attorney with a physical therapy degree. As a mother, wife and educator she has managed to find balance in her life and still make time to volunteer. Her interests and accomplishments are varied and reflect a woman who likes to get things done.

Robert Gallegos’ column, There was a Time, in the Las Vegas Times, was anticipated by readers each week. It harkened back to another age, and his prose, rich with vernacular, felt like sitting down with a hot cup of tea and memories. The column comes back as Yesterday.

Connie Mack describes herself as a thinker of things and a doer of stuff. Each life experience produces a painting, sculpture, found art piece, poetry, greeting card, cartoon, joke, or a story. She especially likes working with children and people with chronic mental illness.

Maggie Romigh came to New Mexico as a graduate student in the creative writing program at Highlands University. She became entrapped in the Land of Enchantment and has been a Las Vegan for almost ten years. She works as community coordinator for Big Brothers Big Sisters and volunteers with several nonprofit organizations in Las Vegas.

Kayt C. Peck, CFRE, has made a living as a writer since 1976. She has published one novel, Folsom Boy, had a number of plays produced in Texas, New Mexico and Colorado, and she has a number of published short stories and poems to her credit.

Niki Sebastian is an experienced writer, previously published in Hermit's Peak Gazette and other Las Vegas NM area papers, as well as state and national publications. She is re-engaging in article and fiction writing, after a hiatus of several years.

Hilda Wales retired from the United World College as counselor and student services coordinator in 1995.

She and her husband, Don, live in Albuquerque and enjoy having time to do some traveling. Since retirement they have travelled in Europe, Egypt, Greece and China, as well as in the USA. Her poetry has been published in a number of venues.

Happenstance life happens

A literary and general interest magazine Submissions welcome E-mail submissions to: happenstance@happenstancelifehappens.com Material will be selected based on general appeal to a wide readership, with a focus on Las Vegas, NM, and the area. Letters to the editor and comments related to published content will be appreciated and considered for publication. If you do not want your letter published please note that in your correspondence.

If you would like to subscribe please e-mail your request to happenstance@happenstancelifehappens.com

Happenstance Publishing

614 8th Street • PO Box 187 Las Vegas, NM 87701 www.happenstancelifehappens.com Copyright 2011 Blog: sharonvandermeer.blogspot.com All rights are reserved by Happenstance, life happens, a digital magazine published by Happenstance Publishing owner and publisher Sharon Vander Meer, in Las Vegas, N.M. Reproduction of contents in any fashion without written permission from Happenstance, life happens, is prohibited. Happenstance, life happens, is not responsible or liable for the loss of any unsolicited materials or incorrect dates or incorrect information in articles. The opinions expressed within the pages (or web postings) of Happenstance, life happens, do not necessarily represent the views or opinions of the magazine.

By-lined articles and editorial reports represent the views of their authors.

Happenstance life happens

Vol 2, No. 6, March 7, 2011

Happenstance Publishing Back Image: From clipart.com Copyright, Sharon Vander Meer, Happenstance Publishing Select content may be used with appropriate attribution: Sharon Vander Meer, happenstance@happenstancelifehappens.com Cover Image: clipart.com Some interior images from: clipart.com Copy Editor: Sally Hanson

W

From the editor…

hat a month! It seems like it took forever on the one hand and yet sped by like a freight train! I had a great time interviewing all kinds of people and I hope you enjoy reading about them.

There are wonderful contributions from familiar voices and new contributors as well. Check out Connie Mack’s Eclectically Yours. This promises to be a fun regular feature that will have unpredictable content, sometimes funny, sometimes sad, sometimes puzzling. Connie’s subject this month is married men who hit on women.

I couldn’t let spring come and go without dedicating a couple of pages to poetry. The poems aren’t all about spring, but they are about life. I hope you enjoy them. Hilda Wales, a former Las Vegan, submitted a haibun poem, Spring Morning on the Sapello. It is beautifully written, calling the mind and spirit to reflection.

Maggie Romigh’s poem, A Stone, speaks to the heart from another culture. Kayt Peck’s Abrazo takes the reader through the heartbreak of loss to the comfort of knowing that in caring for one another we are all friends. I threw in one of my poems and a couple from a woman you probably all know, or at least know of. Nobody writes about spring like Emily Dickinson.

This month’s featured artist at El Zocalo is Meredith Britt. You have to read her responses. She’s a hoot and I love her art. In Yesterday: Unplugged, Robert Gallegos reminds us how blessed we are to have electricity and other modern conveniences we take for granted.

Niki Sebastian has written a couple of articles this month. Her story of coming to Las Vegas in A Musing is a charming look at new beginnings and spring. Her article about the UWC African Chorus performance in Taos is an inside look at student involvement in cultural enrichment.

As always, Nancy Colalillo does have something to say. I happen to agree with her submission. I want an e-reader but when you come right down to it there is NOTHING like a good book published on paper. I asked her to tack on a bit about the monthly salons. I hope to make the next one. First I need to get the books and read them!

Are you looking for a fun way to get in a little exercise? Read about line dancing classes given by Denise McElroy. She has classes for seniors and an evening class at the Plaza Hotel ballroom.

As a mentorship model Big Brothers Big Sisters is one of the best. The article about the program touches on what BBBS is but focuses on an upcoming fundraiser, Wii Bowling for Kids’ Sake.

If you want to know what sculptor Duke Sundt is up to, check on the story about the Vietnam monument project he’s working on. It’s commissioned by a Texas veterans group and tells a unique story.

And there is a new Recipes and Chat from Pamela Daves, and something from Kathy Allen’s cookbook, Someone’s in the Kitchen.

Well, there it is for March. Enjoy!

—Sharon Vander Meer Editor and Publisher

I

A MUSING

Spring, Emerging Into a Fresh World

first set foot in New Mexico on April Fool’s Day, 1972.

My plane from Boston had left a chilly, crocus-peeking-through-snow day, and now deposited me into mid 70 degree weather. In a matter of hours I’d traveled from winter to summer, by-passing the spring which officially began a week earlier.

Back then, the Albuquerque airport was a four gate, kivalike structure at plane door height, which one left by going down a flight of stairs, through a tunnel, and up again to street level, mimicking a traditional path of emergence. The friend who met me, and who drove me north, had come to Santa Fe to open a theater. Consequently, rather like Punxsutawney Pete emerging into brilliant sunlight and frightened by his shadow, I went underground for the first week of my month’s vacation, to the basement of the Inn of the Governors, helping get Pipedream Theater’s opening production up and running.

When I re-emerged, to sightsee in Santa Fe, Lamy and Los Alamos, visit Chaco Canyon and “play vacationer,” the weather turned even hotter, reaching into the high 80s on a day that included a tramp across open lands for a picnic at what I was told were the ruins of Bishop Lamy’s home.

Meanwhile, I heard that a long cold snap had broken, and spring had finally arrived in Massachusetts.

I was born in Washington DC, but fell in love with Maine from summers spent there before my family went to Asia and Europe for my father’s job as a Foreign Service officer. During the years of travel, I vowed to make Maine my home as soon as I could. After college near Philadelphia, graduate school in the Chicago area, and a move to Boston, Maine was a nearly-accomplished goal.

Then I visited New Mexico and everything changed.

Oh, I went back to Boston at the end of April, with the best of intentions regarding continuation of the life I’d created there. And I still thought I’d be moving to Maine next… until I became quite ill, others in my life made their own decisions, and I was left free to start anew. Without hesitation, I packed myself into an old Jeep and set out for New Mexico.

I bought a hundred-year-old box car with two outhouses on rented railroad land in Lamy, began waitressing at the Inn of the Governors (upstairs, the theater had moved to better quarters) and began the process of putting down roots. Only after a few months, as a new year warmed into spring and I sat on a Lamy hillside, listening to wind blow through the scrub trees, did I realize that what had drawn me to Maine was equally satisfied in this high desert land. Using my surroundings (ocean in Maine, 50 mile vistas in New Mexico) to expand my sense of self was what Soul sought – and found.

Expansion and re-definition of Self is the great gift I’ve received, living nearly 40 years under the vast sweep of crystal skies, able to see flights of geese and ducks littering the ponds I pass on my daily commute to work, and knowing that a minus 30 degree night can be followed by a sunny day that is 60 degrees warmer. I still send photos of four foot snow drifts to friends elsewhere who do not believe that it snows “in the desert,” and I identify the beginning of spring not with the calendar (after all, for half the globe the transition from cold weather to hot happens in October), not with specific flowers, nor with the end of cold weather (remember the sub-zero May days and layers of sleet that kill gardens?), nor even with our perpetual “spring” wind, but with a sense of emergence.

Emergence from an old world into a fresh one, from traditional goals to creative ones, from established habit patterns to invented ones – (How long does it take you to stop reaching for a light switch when you enter a dark room, after moving to a house with no electricity?).

We spring forward, things spring up, and occasionally we may even spring for the cost of something. In so doing we emerge from one state into another, a process it may seem easiest to begin with the spring season, a process that generates energy. Burning off some of that energy is probably the basis for spring cleaning, but also the excuse for that inattention at work labeled spring (or cabin) fever.

Whenever it hits, whatever it’s named, that inflow of new energy motivates me to do, to change, to grow, to be – to emerge yet again from whatever level of awareness I have settled into through the cold dark days. The trick, of course, is to stay open and aware, attuned to the inflow of Soul-nourishing energy, not just in spring, but throughout the year.

Bob Dylan’s song says “those not busy being born are busy dying.” I want, most fervently, to come to the end of my numbered days, whenever that time may be, still actively engaged in an on-going process of emergence, being numbered among those who are still busy being born anew, time after time. And I count myself most fortunate that 40 years ago I chose to reside in an environment of such beauty, but also such extremes and changeability, that it urges and supports a constant, appreciative awareness.

In a few days the Northern hemisphere will once again officially enter spring, we will change our clocks (springing forward), and expect… What? Wind? Late, wet snows? Dry heat and early fires? Change! Challenges! Daily opportunities.

—Niki Sebastian

VOICES

There is Nothing Like a Good Book

I

saw Sharon a few weeks ago at the Spic and apologized for not getting her something for Happenstance. I told her I had nothing to say. I lied. I just needed a change of scenery to fertilize my brain.

So, I am just back from a trip east to attend my uncle’s funeral. At 94 he was the patriarch, a larger-thanlife character. But I digress. The point is I sat in a few airports and, of course, was reading a real (i.e., paper, physical, printed...you choose) book.

When finally my flight to Newark was called (after an extended delay due to wind along the coast—oh please, like they know from WIND) all of us at the gate shuffled plane-ward, tucking books and such into totes, pockets and elsewhere. I noticed one of my co-travelers popping a copy of Cutting for Stone into her carry-on and I commented to her that I thought it was a wonderful book. She asked how I liked what I was reading (the third Flavia de Luce mystery) and I gave her a quick critique of the series.

Duh. That’s when it dawned on me, yet another reason I dislike ebooks. They are socially isolating. At the gate there were some folks reading on various newfangled instruments. Never once did it occur to me to strike up a conversation with them about what they were reading. And that’s for two reasons: 1) I couldn’t see what they were reading (that’s why aficionados of romance and erotica love ereaders: no visible covers to blow theirs); and 2) since these folks never look up to see what’s going on around them it’s not easy to catch their eye. Given the second reason, it was most unlikely any of them was going to ask me about my chosen tome.

A similar scene occurred in Houston while boarding the puddle-jumper back to ABQ. This time a passenger saw me reading our February Salon pick, Stewart Brand’s Whole Earth Discipline, and she asked me how I liked it. We chitchatted for a while about her children and the kind of world they would inherit, about the lack of substantive media coverage of the environment and how it differed from that of

Vietnam, and about her first visit to New Mexico. In five minutes we had time-traveled together through 45 years of the past, contemplated the future, and exchanged sighs about the present. It was delightful, and somehow uplifting.

Two face-to-face interactions, nothing virtual about them. All because we were reading physical books, which prompted curiosity and offered an implicit invitation to approach the reader.

When so many are enamored of being plugged in to the exclusion of the real world around them, it makes me wonder what is the real social medium.

To read or e-read, that is the question. ____________________

No, the Sunday Salon at Tome on the Range does not include a manicure or haircut! It does include great books and conversation.

Sunday Salons began in 2009 as an antidote to the bleak midwinter blues. Our idea was to gather folks together on an ad hoc basis (no long-term commitment required) once a month for discussion related to a selected book. All chosen titles are non-fiction, and have included, among others, Empire of Illusion (Chris Hedges), The End of Food (Paul Roberts), Hollowing Out the Middle (Patrick Carr), Why Manners Matter (Lucinda Holdforth), The Geography of Bliss (Eric Weiner), and Bright-Sided (Barbara Ehrenreich).

This year Tome manager Michael Siewert has joined me as moderator in alternating months.

The discussions are informal, the group small, refreshments are served. Folks can come as often as they like and no notice is required. All Salon titles are discounted 10 percent when you mention the Salon.

The titles for discussion in March are Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life (Karen Armstrong) and God Sleeps in Rwanda: A Journey of Transformation (Joseph Sebarenzi). The next Salon is scheduled for Sunday, March 27 at 2 p.m.

—By Nancy Colalillo. Nancy owns and operates Tome on the Range Bookstore in Las Vegas, NM.

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 6

You Can’t Be Unhappy When You’re Dancing

K

In addition to the ick up your Wednesday night class at heels and get the Plaza, Denise conducts down to the classes on behalf of Senior line—line dancing that is— Circle on Tuesday and at the Plaza Hotel ballroom Thursday.

Advanced on Wednesday evenings classes are from 8 to 9:30 from 6:30 to 8 p.m. It’s a lita.m. and beginner classes tle bit about dancing, a little are from 9:30 to 10:30 a.m. bit about exercise and a at the Night Owl, 2801 Las whole lot about having a Vegas Blvd., (off I-25). good time.

The Wednesday night If you think line dancclass is open to all ages. ing is country music boot Denise uses a wide variety scootin’, think again. It is a of music and the mix might tradition that has its roots in surprise you. “We start the folk dance and goes back to hour and a half class off at a time when men and a slow pace to warm up, inPHOTO: SHARON VANDER MEER women dancing together crease intensity and then was a taboo. Despite typislow down to cool off,” Denise McElroy leads a line dancing class at the cally being performed in a she said. If it sounds like a circle, the chicken dance is a Plaza Hotel ballroom on Wednesday nights from 6:30 to 8 p.m. work out that’s because it good example of a line is. dance.

“This is some of the best exercise you can do,” Denise Instructor Denise McElroy brings fresh energy to an acsaid.

“Walking exercises limited muscle groups while danctivity that some might see as tied to a specific genre. “I use all ing involves everything.” types of music in the class,” she said. “It’s not just one thing.”

The appeal of line dancing, aside from being a lot of fun, Denise has been line dancing for about three years but is that anyone can do it. has been a dancer all her life. The Raton native began taking “You don’t have to be a dancer and you don’t have to dance classes when she was seven and studied everything have a partner,” Denise said. “It’s a physical, emotional, and from tap to ballet to jazz. Her minor in college was dance; mental exercise. Every part of you is engaged when you’re her major was education. After teaching sixth grade science learning new dances. It’s good for your overall health beand high school biology during her nine years in the educacause it is aerobic, and it’s a social activity.” tion system, she retired to be a full time mom to Ashley, now Another positive is that you don’t have to be perfect. a student at the University of New Mexico, and Casey, who “The more you come to class the more you learn. Getting the is at New Mexico State University. basics makes it easier to learn the more complex dances.”

Denise’s life-long love of dancing led her to participate in For Denise the most compelling reason to participate is the Senior Olympics program where she was able to pick up that it’s downright fun. “Dancing brings me joy. You can’t be the techniques quickly. When the woman working with the Senior Olympics line dancing program moved on to other in- unhappy when you’re dancing.”

For more information about the line dancing classes, conterests Denise became the instructor. The Senior Olympics tact Denise at 454-1379. line dance group eventually came under the auspices of SenTo join a class go to one of the following locations: ior Circle, a program sponsored by Alta Vista Regional HosWhen: Tuesday & Thursday pital.

Advanced 8 – 9:30 a.m.

Denise finds great joy in dancing and has always made Beginner 9:30 – 10:30 a.m. it a part of her life. She taught tap locally for a number of Night Owl, 2801 Las Vegas Blvd., years and did dance classes for the Las Vegas Arts Council.

She is well qualified to provide instruction and inspiration.

Wednesday While age may slow down some of her dance participation, 6:30 – 8 p.m. line dancing is an opportunity she’s glad to make the most of.

Plaza Hotel Ballroom “I may not be able to do ballet anymore, but I can line —by Sharon Vander Meer dance!” she said.

Happenstance Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 7

BBBS: Be a Mentor; Change a Life

P

COURTESY PHOTO

ainful early experiences with self-esteem and re- vision is “…successful mentoring relationships for all chiljection may have provided Maggie Romigh with dren who need and want them, contributing to brighter futhe attributes she needed to lead the local Big tures, better schools, and stronger communities for all.”

None of this happens without energetic volunteers, comBrothers Big Sisters organization. That coupled with a wide staff and money. mitted variety of life and work experiences helps her to see the value “Those are the challenges,” Maggie said. Funding is a of a program that matches children with adult role models concern, but equally critical is who can inspire and motivate having enough Bigs for the Litthem. tles.

“I truly believe in the mis“We currently have thirtysion of Big Brothers Big Sistwo kids waiting for a Big ters,” she said in a recent Brother or Big Sister,” she said. interview. “We can change the “Some have been on the list for world one kid at a time. There a year and a half; one has been is a proven ripple effect when a waiting for two years.” child is involved with our proIt isn’t a huge commitment gram. He or she has a better atof time. Maggie said the protitude at home, which affects gram asks for three to four others in the family; better behours a month from Bigs. “It havior in school touches friends isn’t a lot of time, but the reand peers; in the world the In the 2010 Wii tournament Bank of Las Vegas team memsults are long term for the Litchild is better able to handle bers Sharon, Rose, Anita and Gene, were awarded the prize tles.

Like every one of us, these what comes up.” for collecting the most money as a team. Sharon was recogchildren want someone to take One study conducted by an nized for individual fund raising. a little time to treat them special independent research group and encourage them.” found that young people matched with a Big Sister or Big Bigs are required to go through a background check, and Brother are: great effort is made to match them with a child who would • 46 percent less likely to use drugs most benefit from their experience. “The intent is a match • 27 percent less likely to use alcohol that will benefit the child,” Maggie said.

• 52 percent less likely to skip a day of school and 37 Big Brothers Big Sisters in Las Vegas is part of Big Brothpercent less likely to skip a class. ers Big Sisters of Northern New Mexico. Shared resources for • 1/3 less likely to hit someone fundraising enables the program to serve a greater area, and • more trusting of parents or guardians, less likely to lie in the process build awareness of what it does. to them and felt more supported and less criticized.

In Las Vegas Maggie is aided in her efforts by Felicia These remarkable results have carried through in the Martinez, program specialist, who is responsible for enrolllives of alumni of the program. A separate study showed that ment of children, background checks on Bigs, matching Bigs compared to non-participants alumni were: to Littles, and following the match over time. The agency also • 75 percent more likely to receive a four-year has a New Mexico Highlands University intern, Brianna college degree Rivera, who acts as support staff.

• 39 percent more likely to have a household income “We don’t have a governing board locally,” Maggie said, of $75,000 or higher “but we do have a resource board. Right now we have five • extremely or very satisfied with their relationships active board members. We would love to have more.” The to friends resource board provides extended connections in the com• perceive themselves to have achieved a higher level munity, which stimulates more interest in BBBS and what it of success than peers is doing for kids.

• more likely to engage in community, particularly Currently serving on the board are Sharon Garcia, Vince when it comes to holding a leadership role The Big Brothers Big Sisters Mission is “…to help chil- Howell, Shirley Vigil, Tom McDonald and Lisa Griego. For dren reach their potential through one-to-one relationships more information about how you can help, contact the local with mentors that have a measurable impact on youth.” Its office at 801 Friedman Ave., or phone 505-426-8510.

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 8

Weeeeeee! For Wii Bowling Raising Funds for BBBS

F

PHOTO: SANDY POPPERS

Kayt Peck lines up her shot at the Wii Bowl for Kids Sake event

last year. Teams are forming now for the May 15 Big Brothers Big Sisters fund raiser.

undraising can be “fun” raising, especially with events like the Big Brothers Big Sisters Wii Bowl For Kids’ Sake set for May 15, at the Plaza Hotel

ballroom.

“Teams have four time slots they can sign up for, beginning at 11 a.m.,” said local BBBS coordinator Maggie Romigh.

“Each team has four bowlers. Each participant is asked to get pledges to support BBBS matches.” The minimum pledge per bowler is $100.

There is the “real thing” bowling that takes place at Strike Gold Lanes in Pojoaque on April 3, and participants may sign up for that if they choose to do so. The local affiliate

decided last year to make it more convenient for participants by setting up a Wii bowling event in Las Vegas. It turned out to be highly successful, raising nearly $13,000 in its first year.

Maggie said the bowler is not required to collect the money, just get the pledge, name and mailing address. Big Brothers Big Sisters will do the rest. However, those who do collect all their pledges and turn them in on bowling day will be entered in a drawing for a special prize.

Maggie reiterated the message provided in the materials about the event. “The number one reason people do not pledge to Big Brothers Big Sisters Bowl For Kids’ Sake is they are not asked.”

“The message I want people to get is that our entire purpose is to find great matches for kids who need a positive influence in their lives,” she said. “Sponsorship means you are helping kids.”

Bowl For Kids’ Sake is the single largest annual fundraising campaign for BBBS, and one of the largest communitywide fundraisers in northern New Mexico. Since its inception in the early 1980s, it has raised money and awareness for a program that is the largest provider of one-on-one youth mentoring services in the U.S. The Las Vegas event needs team captains and team members. What does that involve?

• For Wii bowl teams there are four members to a team.

As leader you need only recruit three other people from among your friends and family.

• Each bowler is asked to raise a minimum of $100 in sponsorships ($400 per team), but the more you raise the greater the benefit to the program.

• Get ready to have a great time! Participants receive a Bowl For Kids’ Sake t-shirt, refreshments on the day of the event, and chances to win door prizes.

“Big Brothers Big Sisters is a proven mentorship program with identifiable results,” Maggie said. “It starts participating children on the path to fulfilling their potential. The Wii bowl event is a way to raise money to help us do that.”

For more information about Bowl For Kids’ Sake contact the BBBS office in Las Vegas at 801 Friedman Ave., or phone 505-426-8510.

—Articles by Sharon Vander Meer Happenstance

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 9

UCW African Chorus Performs in Taos

T

PHOTO: NIKI SEBASTIAN

Par ticipants in the African Chorus are students at the United World College—USA, located in Montezuma, NM

umbling off the bus and milling around in the atrium of the Taos Center for the Arts, the thirtyfour United World College students sort equipment, grab sack lunches and bottles of water, settle on the floor in groups to eat, and respond to questions in a series of short interviews. Their barely-contained energy reflects the exuberance the audience will experience at the African Chorus show later in the evening.

“What does it mean to you, to participate in the chorus?”

Moustapha (from Niger): “I didn’t really notice my culture until I left home to come here, and then I missed it. So being in the group I can still be part of my culture and also share it with other people.”

Inviolata ( Tanzania): “I love singing, and being in the group is like being with my family, lots of brothers and sisters having fun together and learning a new song, until you can put your whole heart into it and really make it special.”

Sivhanyaa (Singapore): “I have been adopted into the family. I love singing and I kept leaving notes saying I wanted to join and finally they took me in.”

Laish (the Bahamas): “I felt I would benefit musically, and it would be a good extension of my music classes, working on the four part harmony. And now I’m a leader of the bass singers, teaching them.”

“Mick” Mhlonishwa ( Swaziland): “My second year last year, Thabo said I should do it. Because we sing several songs in my language, it helps me feel more at home.”

Anne (Germany): “It is all the opposite of the stereotype of German culture. I get to explore a new expression, to laugh and be unorganized, to be expressive instead of cool. And it’s such a good experience between us.”

Ahmad (US/Egypt): “I was not in it last year. But from

the first show, I thought it would be fun. I became friends with some of the members and decided to join for this second year. Everywhere we go and whatever we do, we have fun.”

Vu Chau (Vietnam): “I’m Asian, so for me it was incidental. Jessica last year told me to try out, and they accepted me.

I thought I’d be singing bass but instead I’m now a tenor.”

Tendai (Zimbabwe): “It entertains me, and at the same time we can entertain others and share our music. I’d like to see us perform not only around New Mexico but even in other states.”

The African Chorus of the United World College-USA (formerly known as the Armand Hammer United World College of the American West) was founded in 2003 under the sponsorship of Ronald Maltais, the school’s director of music.

Begun as an extra-curricular activity, the chorus soon morphed into a club, organized and run by the students themselves.

“We do not require music knowledge or singing experience, but an interest in African culture and presenting it to others,” said co-leader Inno Basso (Tanzania). “Leaders (always one boy and one girl) are chosen by discussion among the second year students as to who among the first years they think would make good leaders–and then the present leaders make the final choice. Everyone at the beginning of the year who is interested signs up for the club, and then we take Africans first, and select from among the others those who have shown the most interest in African affairs, and show commitment to rehearsing and being part of the group. This past year it was hard because there were only sixteen slots and so many people signed up that it filled two pages.”

Songs to be performed are chosen from suggestions submitted by members. The leaders learn them and try them out

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 10

standing before the curtain in their multifor how they’ll work in four part harmony. hued traditional garb. Wrapped skirts, turThe whole group learns the songs chosen baned heads, dashikis and long robes by the leaders, then the group decides display every color of the palette and all inthrough a general discussion what will tensities of tone... just as their singing covwork best. For the Taos program, the leaders every range of the octaves and all ers proposed a program and then the intensities of emotion. The program group suggested a few changes, a song tonight is the longest as yet arranged by the they didn’t want to do and one they students, including the dance and poetry wanted to replace it with. The dances are performances. There is also a brief slide among those learned for African National show giving information about the United Day. The poems are a new feature, again World College – USA, the formation of the presented by members who stood up to African Chorus, and highlighting the work read what they wanted to have included. of Family Health International, a non-govThe chorus leaders decided which selecernmental organization whose project to tions to use. provide mosquito netting throughout The African National Day show, from African villages is a mainstay of malaria which the dances were drawn, is one of prevention. Funds raised from ticket sales five special events highlighting the culfor the Taos concert are being donated to tures of the world’s regions that occur on FHI to purchase more netting. a rotating basis over a two year period.

The program, with songs from TanzaUnexpectedly the evening’s performnia, Zimbabwe, Swaziland, Senegal, Cenance is enhanced by the participation of Nicole Cassidy, who began teaching dance —Moustapha (from Niger) tral and South Africa ends with an acrobatic, stamping and clapping dance at UWC in the fall of 2009. She is currently called Gumboots, for which the students substituting in Santa Fe while her own wear jeans, bib overalls, and galoshes. It teacher studies dance in Senegal, so she has not been on campus this spring. Nicole has specialized in originated with black South African miners, and as with African dance for six years, and dances with Moria, a group many group dances (including break dancing in the modern performing in the African/Caribbean style. Also arriving USA), provides opportunity for individuals to challenge othfrom Santa Fe to assist the Taos performance are two drum- ers by creating new patterns to be copied. The Taos audience, mers, Hountor Gent and Soriba Fofana, who will provide the on its feet and applauding avidly as the show ends, has set a new pattern, to be imitated, the students hope, in the near percussion for some of the dance numbers.

Admitted to the auditorium and stage area, the leaders future at performances now being planned for Las Vegas and (Inno and Aminata Deme from Senegal) quickly set up re- Santa Fe. —by Niki Sebastian hearsal of one of the more complex dances. Three runthroughs and the work is done. The students divide by gender to cluster into the two small dressing rooms while Music Director Maltais restlessly seeks something to do... but there is nothing.

“I put it all into their hands, and now I feel very strange.

Usually for a music performance I set the program, accompany some of the performers, give introductions or perhaps a bit of history. Here there is nothing for me to do. I am not used to being only the producer.” Together with his friend Lenny Foster, the owner of The Living Light Gallery in Taos, Mr. Maltais arranged for the chorus’ performance. “Lenny thought Taos was ready for a show like this, and he’s helped from the beginning to get the space and do the advertising, including on radio. And he’s donated use of his gallery, PHOTO: NIKI SEBASTIAN where we will be among all his exceptional photographs, for a reception afterwards.”

The two students leaders of the African Chorus are A Taos audience of nearly 150 settles into their seats, the Inno Basso, right, and Aminata Deme. lights dim, and chorus members enter from both wings,

“I didn’t really notice my culture until I left home to come here, and then I missed it. So being in the group I can still be part of my culture and also share it with other people.”

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 11

Welcome home: That’s the Message of the Monument Duke Sundt is Working On There is a tradition in the Sundt family, one that has left a legacy of love and respect; love of country and respect for the military way of life.

A

rtist Duke Sundt has ridden the rodeo circuit, been a ranch manager, and cowboyed around New Mexico, but his identity is that of artist. As a sculptor he pays attention to detail and sees the beauty in simple scenes. He has monuments at the University of Texas, New Mexico Military Institute and at New Mexico State UniPHOTO: ANDY KINGSBURY versity. His sculptures are of a variety of subjects. Just looking at Sculptor Duke Sundt with a model of the Texas Vietnam Veterans Monument. them can take you to a different time and place.

As a representational artist Duke is most interested in the military way of life. In his role as artist Duke continues getting the end product right. “When somebody looks at a that tradition with this monument.

History has not always been kind to soldiers returning piece and says, ‘Yeah, you nailed it,’ that makes me feel good. home from combat; in some instances it has been brutal. In I’ve done my work.”

He has a number of ideas in the planning stages. One is the case of the war in Vietnam, many men came home shellfor a sculpture he will call “Sermon on the Mount.” It depicts shocked by war and deeply hurt by the reaction of fellow a circuit-riding preacher mounted on his horse, holding a Americans. These service folks were welcomed home ginBible and good to go. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long gerly at best and with disdain at worst. A group of Texas vettime.” The other piece is a bas relief called “Ghost Riders in erans decided to rectify that, at least in their home state, by building a monument on the grounds of the state house. the Sky.” His primary focus for now is the Texas Capitol Vietnam Through legislative action in 2005 they received permission Veteran’s Monument in Austin, Texas, designed to depict a to do so. Duke was selected by the monument committee to create the piece. war many want to forget.

He submitted sketches of his idea and the committee acThere is a tradition in the Sundt family, one that has left a legacy of love and respect; love of country and respect for cepted his proposals. The $1.5 million project moves forward Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 12

by fits and starts, limited by fundraising, or in this economy, the lack thereof. Since the beginning stages only $300,000 of the necessary funding has been raised. As the artist Duke has received payments along the way, but now everything is in a holding pattern until contributions pick up again.

“It’s the economy,” Duke said. “I want to get this done. It’s a great piece and it tells a great story; the story the Texas veterans want told.”

This story is about the multicultural mix of men who served in Vietnam, and it is also about the culture of the Vietnamese people.

“There are Vietnam monuments around the country,” Duke said, “but this is the only one I know of that tells this story.”

One of the figures included in the five-figure vignette is of a Vietnamese soldier. That’s something easily forgotten in the aftermath of protests and mixed feelings about America being in Vietnam at all. Soldiers fighting for what they believed to be a just cause were of mixed backgrounds and ethnicities, including Vietnamese. Texans of Anglo, Hispanic, Native American, Asian and PHOTO: ANDY KINGSBURY African American descent fought side-by-side, and when they came home they were quickly forgotten.

The bas relief around the base of the sculpture gives panoramic views of Vietnam that include a mix of military might and common life.

“I did a lot of research and talked to a lot of people—veterans who were there, fighting, and South Vietnamese boat people who escaped. I’ve looked at thousands of photographs and studied the history. The detail of the monument

comes out of that,” Duke said.

The artist’s piece of the $1.5 million is $350,000, but as Duke knows, that doesn’t come all at once and the payout doesn’t come at all if the piece is never finished. He has been active in fundraising efforts. In early March he will go to a Houston rodeo to talk about the project and solicit funds. Later in the month he will go again to a different venue and make the same pitch for donations.

“I don’t know what more to say about why people should donate,” he said.

“To me this is a way to welcome home the veterans who served in that war, not just the more than 500,000 Texas veterans. It’s fifty years after the fact, but it’s never too late to say, ‘Thanks.’ That’s what this is to me, a welcome home to veterans, the ones today and the ones who served forty or fifty years ago, or any time.

Maybe it’s my patriotic nature, but I want to do that.

It’s important. It shouldn’t be the forgotten war.”

To see a maquette of one of the figures on the monument and details about the project, stop by At The Plaza in the Plaza Hotel.

For more information about the Texas Capitol Vietnam War Monument, go to their site at www.buildthemonument.org. Donations may be made online.

For more about artist Duke Sundt, go to www.dukesundt.com. You will find photos of his other sculptures and information about how to order.

—Article by Sharon Vander Meer Happenstance

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 13

SPRING INTO BEING WITH POETRY

Spring Morning on the Sapello

By Hilda Wales This is written in haibun form, a prose poem interleaved with one or more haiku.

Anticipating entrance into the grace of silence, I pause to eavesdrop: the murmur of a cold stream flowing out of snow; blue jays insistently begging for the old bread I feel compelled to offer as appeasement for my intrusion; a chipmunk who pretends to imitate the birds sharing his tree of the moment.

Breezes passing through pine, spruce and fir rise, then fade, like unseen whisperers of rumor. alone in silence conversations overheard nature’s discourse

Can you see them? Wild turkeys foraging through the meadow, hanging out safely, an assemblage of twelve. Oblivious adolescent, left behind, scurries to catch those whose departure was unspoken consensus. bird flock in meadow assembly of mass design breakfast ritual

Humming birds circle the feeder, fresh with sweet liquid, leave energized—for only a moment. Rufous, in a purposeful whirr of wings, offers challenges to intruding Ruby Throat. Only bees aren’t intimidated—nectar winners who ignore the air battle of fast approaches, whirled retreats. perched on tallest tree eagle views his valley realm crown in residence

Three deer approach the stream for a morning drink, pause with ears cocked, sense I am watching. I look the other way hoping it will give them courage to linger. So they ignore me, retrieve morsels of fresh green tidbits between the dried stalks of last years flowers, soak up the warmth of the spring sun— as I do. aspen leaves, spring-tender swim in a green haze fill the valley.

A Stone

By Maggie Romigh

My hand found the stone in a moment of sun-blind fury as the herd of mottled cows chewed contentedly on corn stalks in my patch of garden. My loss: three days of palm-blistering work, three months of hopeful weeding, and a winter with summer squash.

But before I could hurl the rock, my fingers slid into and recognized— smooth furrows that welcomed my touch, a hollow that cradled my thumb, a ridge formed over a lifetime by the pressure of a palm placed just so.

My mind suddenly stopped hacking steak from hide and grinding hamburger.

My spirit was home in a Navajo hogan grinding cornmeal with this tool shaped by my sister’s hand.

A New Beginning

By Sharon Vander Meer

Nothing is so pure As the shades of early Spring.

Soft greens so fresh They make your breath catch.

Pastel mauves and golds and lilacs Sweeten the days And soften the nights, Spring, a new beginning.

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 14

A Light Exists in Spring

by Emily Dickinson

A light exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period.

When March is scarcely here

A color stands abroad On solitary hills That science cannot overtake, But human nature feels.

It waits upon the lawn; It shows the furthest tree Upon the furthest slope we know; It almost speaks to me.

Then, as horizons step, Or noons report away, Without the formula of sound, It passes, and we stay:

A quality of loss Affecting our content, As trade had suddenly encroached Upon a sacrament.

Before You Thought of Spring

by Emily Dickinson

Before you thought of spring, Except as a surmise, You see, God bless his suddenness, A fellow in the skies Of independent hues, A little weather-worn, Inspiriting habiliments Of indigo and brown.

With specimens of song, As if for you to choose, Discretion in the interval, With gay delays he goes To some superior tree Without a single leaf, And shouts for joy to nobody But his seraphic self!

Abrazo

By Kayt C. Peck

White faces in a sea of brown.

We listened to songs in a language we did not know.

Sung for a man we could not save.

“Ernesto,” we’d called. “Ernesto,” our voices sometimes lost in the wind.

Perhaps he answered.

If so, it was in a voice we could not hear.

We did not yet know he’d already passed to the other side.

Ernesto we did not find.

It was Bandito—his companion, his friend, his horse— who became our guide.

Someone found the horse beside the water.

The tracks in the soft, moist earth… the ball cap floating downstream …

They told a tale that left our hearts cold.

The divers would come the following day.

Our part in the job was done.

Bandito would not leave.

I grew to like a man whose smile I would never see, whose voice I would never hear.

To earn such love from a creature as magical as a horse… he must have been a special man.

We paid our respects, those of us who searched.

We sat at the back, white faces in a sea of brown.

The service over, we spoke with the family.

I stood before a woman whom I knew for the bologna sandwich she’d brought, The one flavored by hours in the search and eaten greedily from the back of my own horse.

Hermana o prima de Ernesto, no intiendo.

Ernesto’s sister or cousin, I did not know She knew me as one who had called her kinsman’s name in a search with a sad ending.

Abrazo! She embraced me, Neither of us knowing the other’s name.

Brown arms embraced white.

White embraced brown.

The color washed away in the gentle lapping waters of love, gratitude and grief.

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 15

El Zocalo Featured Artist: Meredith Britt A serious artist with a quirky sense of humor

art from the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs. I learn a lot about art from just doing it.

H. What gets you excited about your art?

M. Making it. Knowing what a luxury that is. And a neBrief bio, Meredith Britt: I was cessity.

H. What inspires you? raised by two yard gnomes in southern M. Sunlight, the sky, other artists, other artists’ work, my France who grew green beans in their small field and studied Chekov at night own art making.

H. You are the featured artist for March at El Zocalo. by candlelight. They lived in a stream valley near a tall train trellis outside What will you be doing for your lecture/demonstration and Nice. They taught me to speak five lan- when will it be?

M. Our reception will be Saturday, March 12, from 2 to 5 guages, but I only remember a few important phrases like, “I didn’t do it,” p.m. The theme is “Lions and Lambs.” We’re going to have “Where is the grape jelly,” and “Here another Artist Trading Card party! We are inviting everyone Meredith Britt comes Captain Kangaroo.” As I had an to bring artist trading cards and we will have an artmaking aversion to green beans, I was given table too. They can make ATCs or doodle or dance on the crayons instead, which I used for keeping time on the snare table or whatever. As the featured artist, I will do my collages drum, creating powerpoint presentations and decorating ker- and some collage ATCs. I will do CODs—cards on demand. chiefs. I also wrote the crayon cookbook, which is out of We just made that up at the last ATC party. Everyone is invited. print.

H. Tell me something about yourself that expresses why Then one day a kindly stranger, passing through Nice in a donkey cart, showed me the true meaning of art. I began to you are an artist?

M. I think my hats express why I’m an artist. Especially draw and paint. I took up tap dancing. People came from miles around. From that day forward I worked backwards, the red velvet one.

H. Do you work at another profession or vocation or is always careful to be careless. I soon became a university president, then the ambassador to the U.N. Now I am in the wit- art the focus of your working life?

M. I’m really a pretty good writer. I don’t make any ness protection program in Las Vegas, N.M., where I decorate money at that either. But I kerchiefs, keep time on the wrote a novel and most of snare drum, and occasionan autobiography this ally create powerpoint preyear. sentations.

H. What brought you H. What is your art to Las Vegas and how long medium? have you been here?

M. Paintings, drawM. Las Vegas is very ings, pastel, cut-paper colmuch like Westcliffe, Collage orado, which is the center H. How long have you of the universe, only I can’t been doing this? live there because it’s too M. I’ve always done cold and too small. Las artwork, and tried to make Vegas has the same light it my main focus for a long and the same mountain time. range as Westcliffe. I’ve H. Are you self-taught been here nine years. My or have you had formal mission is to meet everytraining? one and become mayor.

M. I got a bachelors in Collage entitled “8th and National” by Meredith Britt Editor’s Note: Meredith Britt exhibits her writing skills in the following bio. Its fantasy-like quality reflects her humor and interesting view of life.

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 16

RECIPES & CHAT

C

arl Laumbach, cousin to Rudy Laumbach, president of the Citizens Committee for Historic Preservation board here in Las Vegas, is a contract anthropologist who knew Keith Humphries, whose extraordinary oil paintings were displayed at the Ray Drew Gallery at NMHU last January and February. Carl traveled from Las Cruces to give the Gallery Talk on Humphries and was hosted in our home.

I served a Sunset Magazine recipe for posole during his stay with us. I found it a few years after we moved here and I’ve been using it ever since. Carl enjoyed it enough to take a copy of the recipe home with him. It makes six servings and prep time is about 45 minutes.

New Mexican-Style Chicken Posole 2 lbs boned, skinned chicken thighs or breast meat 1 chopped onion 1 can green enchilada sauce 1 chopped red bell pepper 1 tsp oregano 2 minced cloves garlic 6 oz rinsed spinach leaves 3 C chicken broth Salt & pepper 2 cans rinsed & drained hominy Cut chicken into 1-inch chunks.

Place in pan with 2 tbs water, cover and cook until done (15-20 minutes). Uncover and cook until browned. Add the next three ingredients stirring until the onion is light brown. Add the following four ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for about 10 min.

Stir in spinach and cook until just wilted.

Add salt & pepper to taste. Serve in bowls and garnish with lime wedges.

—By Pamela G. Daves

Take the Day Off With These Easy To Prepare Meals in a Pot

The following recipes are from “Someone’s in the Kitchen” by Kathy Allen

Cook’s Day Off Roast My friend, Mavis shared this recipe with me and I have used it several times.

Sort through and rinse 3 cups pinto beans. Soak overnight in large pan. (I’ve been told that the acid in tomatoes—see recipe below—will keep the beans from softening if they are not soaked first.)

Place 2 1/2 - 3 pound boneless beef roast in large roasting pan. Pour in soaked and drained beans. Add: 1 can tomatoes and green chile such as Rotel, 1 package dry onion soup mix, 1 small can chopped green chile, and garlic salt to taste (1/8 teaspoon to start). Fill roasting pan to within 3 inches of top with water. Stir. Cover and place in 250 degree oven for 12 hours.

(The size of the roast, as well as the amount of beans, can be adjusted to fit your family size; but be assured, this is a big meal.) If you are using a Crock Pot, it needs to be at least 5 quart. Even then you may have to adjust the size of roast and/or amount of beans. My friend Linda Pederson says every time she’s made this it turns out great and everyone loves it.

Ranchero Beef Tamale Pie 1 pound ground beef, browned in 2 tablespoons oil Add 1/2 cup chopped onion, generous dash of garlic powder and 1/4 cup chopped bell pepper Cook, stirring until onion is golden brown.

Stir in 1 1/4 cup canned undrained tomatoes, 3/4 cup undrained whole kernel corn, 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, 3/4 tablespoon chili powder, 1/8 teaspoon black pepper, Combine 1/4 cup yellow cornmeal mixed with 1/2 cup water.

Stir into meat mixture.

Cover and simmer 10 minutes.

Add 1/2 cup ripe olive pieces.

Pour into 6 cup casserole.

Meanwhile, heat 3/4 cup milk, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1 tablespoon butter in saucepan. Slowly stir in 1/4 cup cornmeal. Cook, stirring until thickened. Remove from heat and stir in 1/4 cup American cheese and 1 slightly beaten egg.

Pour over meat mixture. Do not stir! Bake for 30 minutes at 350 degrees. Serve with tossed green salad and choice of non-starchy vegetable.

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 17

ECLECTICALLY YOURS, CONNIE MACK

Once upon a time, many years ago in a far away land, three married men were hitting on me at the same time. Something comes from each life experience. These three men inspired me to create a line of greeting cards to help women say “No” to married men. I call the line of twenty cards, “Second Fiddle.”

Oh look, here is some of that material now.

Second Fiddle

Married Men

“Cigarettes” and “Coffee TWO things I shouldn’t do No, but wait now Make that THREE ‘Cause baby then there’s YOU!

They seem to love me I don’t know why that is I can’t imagine they’d Want towels labeled “Hers” and “Hers” and “His”

My Dear, I’d love to gamble And see if I could win But cards are stacked against me I’m throwin’ this hand in

White skin On your ring finger Where no sun has shown ‘Till now Kinda sorta gives Your sneaky game away somehow

To Be Your “Special Feature” You want me for life But I know the “Main Attraction” Will always be your wife

No Thanks!

I mean I’d love to It’s exciting and it’s fun But EXCITING Won’t describe it When it’s over and it’s done If only men Loved with their hearts Instead of other Body parts

Really!

I would simply LOVE to make you mine Except that I’m impatient I HATE to wait in line

It must be nice to have a dog Waiting in the yard But for the dog It isn’t nice EMOTIONALLY It’s hard

All material copyright, Connie Mack 2011 Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 18

I

YESTERDAY

Unplugged

n the early years of Las Vegas, especially in the poorer neighborhoods, most of the homes did not have electricity. Remember, we are talking of the early 1930s. I was born and raised in the first house on South Pacific Street that is connected to other structures. It’s the one close to where South Gonzales Street joins South Pacific. Most of the homes were lit by candles and oil lamps. Needless to say, the homes did not have electrical appliances.

In most households, only the man of the house worked for a living. The woman of the house had her hands full manually washing clothing, ironing, baking bread and keeping the house clean. There was a plus side to mothers staying home, because most children were brought up at home instead of being sent to nurseries. The children received more parental love, care, and supervision. When the children were home, there were many chores that they had to perform as they grew up.

The typical house in our neighborhood contained some or all of the following items.

Kerosene lamps with a supply of fuel, wicks, and glass covers, which we called in northern New Mexico Spanish chiflones. Please forgive my spelling of Spanish. Although we spoke almost entirely in Spanish, we did not read or write it very often, and many of the words or phrases we used are now called spanglish.

There was always an ample supply of candles. Since our house had a fireplace, it provided us with more light when it was in use.

Wooden stoves were used daily for cooking, heating, and warming up the one-piece metal irons that were used to press clothing. Some of the more expensive stoves were equipped with a side compartment, which held several gallons of water that was usually warm from the continuous use of the stove.

On washing days the calenton, as we called it, or water heater, would have to be supplemented with pots full of water to be heated on top of the stove. The same procedure was followed to provide sufficient hot water when we had our weekly baths, which was usually on Saturday night. Together with the bath many children were given a dose of castor oil to clean the body inside and out.

“I used to call my mother The Miracle Worker because she could whip up a very good meal in a short period of time on our wood stove.”

Most homes did have tap water, but in our case, it was a single outside faucet, which meant that all water had to be carried into the house in water buckets.

Another item to be found in most homes in that depression era was a horma, a metal stand with different sized shoe molds for use in repairing shoes. Most stores sold shoe repair kits, which consisted of leather soles of various sizes, rubber heels, an adhesive and tacks. It seemed that, more often than not, the tacks on newly soled shoes would not be driven hard enough to flatten the sharp points of the tacks. So the wearer would have to walk around all day getting pricked on the foot by the tack until he got home and used a metal punch to flatten the exposed point.

Since prohibition existed during this time, most houses also contained a crock for making home brew. Some homes had stills for making hard liquor called mula, probably because it had the kick of a mule.

For the daily grooming, there was a washbasin, together with a water pitcher and a mirror on the wall. We called these items el pichel and platon.

Most homes had sewing machines for use in the continuous repair of our clothing and, in many cases, the making of clothing. Housewives in those days were excellent seamstresses. You had to admire the woman of the house in those days. They usually cooked three meals a day; most made tortillas every day and bread once a week. They washed clothing by hand, including the periodic washing of sleeping mattresses. Although there were some canned goods, most housewives had to make all of the family meals from scratch.

I used to call my mother The Miracle Worker because she could whip up a very good meal in a short period of time on our wood stove. It seems that food tasted better in those days. There were no leftovers. In those days, if you did not have money for food, you either did without or asked your neighbors for help. There weren’t any welfare programs.

—The second in a series of articles by Robert Gallegos

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 19

A

THE READING ROOM

Chapter Nine Off to School

sleepy Caleb stumbled down the hall just as Lilly and the dog entered the kitchen headed for the patio door. Krank gave a joyful bark and was so excited at the sight of Caleb he jumped up on the boy and nearly knocked him over.

Caleb had been pretty ticked that Krank had chosen to sleep in the old woman’s room. Did the goofy dog wake her up the same way he woke him every morning, pulling the blankets off the bed and licking his foot? Having a dog as an alarm clock was not fun, but it sure worked.

“Down! Down, Krank!”

“Dog woke me up. I have no intention to baby-sit him while he does his business,” the old woman said on a yawn. Her brown hair, a color he knew couldn’t be natural, was in a long braid down her back. Wispy bits that were more gray than brown stuck out here and there. Without her glasses she looked spaced out and even older than he thought.

Krank headed for the door, making his wishes to go out known with a sharp bark. Caleb started at the sound then hurried over, unlocked the door, and slid it open wide enough for Krank to slip through. He shut it quickly. The wind wasn’t blowing but it sure was cold. Nothing like the last place they’d been.

“Don’t you own pajamas, boy?” the old woman asked.

Caleb looked down at his rumpled clothing, the very same he’d been wearing last night, and hiked up his drooping pants. He regarded Lilly silently through the fringe of hair falling across his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond, thinking, “It’s none of your business,” wouldn’t cut it.

Krank scratched at the door. Caleb hesitated, wondering if she wanted him to be let back in.

“Let him in if he’s done his business. You’ll need to clean that up you know, I mean if he, you know.”

“Took a dump?” Caleb asked with a slight smirk as he opened the door.

“Yes, exactly,” she replied, not in the least put off by his crudeness. She twitched her nose and headed back toward her room with Krank at her heels.

Caleb stared at the spot where the old woman had stood and swallowed. Mom would have a fit if she knew he’d been disrespectful. He went to the door and slipped out, searching the yard for whatever Krank had left behind. The higher elevation kept the early morning temperatures colder than he was used to. He shivered in the chill air wishing he’d taken time to grab his jacket.

And, no, he didn’t own pajamas. He slept in his underwear, but wasn’t about to be caught in his shorts by the

old woman in case she was up.

He’d pulled on what was at hand. The only reason he’d gotten up was because every morning about this time old Krank would need to go out. She needn’t have bothered to get up. On second thought, that would have meant he had to go into her room, so maybe it turned out for the best after all.

Caleb found what he was looking for and took care of it. He used the shovel he’d located yesterday when trying to restore order to the chaos Krank had created in the back yard. He, with the help of Marie, had done all he could to clean up. Of course Marie hadn’t been all that much help, dragging Polly around by one ear and being more trouble than she was worth. Her every third sentence involved whining that she was freezing. So was he but the work had to be done. They needed a place to stay. With Krank tearing stuff up right and left it was a wonder they hadn’t already been kicked out.

Caleb returned to his room and lay back down without removing his clothes, careful not to wake Alex. He was miffed that his mom was so determined to get him and Marie registered in school. He would bet everything he owned—little that it was—they’d have to stay once they were registered. He didn’t see his mom giving them another day off. So what? It was just another place they wouldn’t be for very long. Something would happen and she would decide to move on. He was tired of it. He didn’t know why they couldn’t have stayed where they were.

Everything seemed to be going okay. What had made his mother twitchy this time? He didn’t know but it made his guts roll to think about it.

To divert his thoughts he got up headed for the bathroom. Since he was awake he might as well brush his teeth and take a shower before anyone else was up. He didn’t make it. When he entered the hallway his mother was already headed in that direction with Marie in tow.

“Us first! Us first,” Alex howled with glee, startling him. When did the little twerp get up? Last time he looked the kid had been conked out. Being first was a game for Alex. Caleb wasn’t in the mood to play.

“Naaah. Let the girls go first. They’re dirtier than we are.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t get peed on yesterday,” Marie said, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Marie, enough of that,” Annie said wearily, looking as though she hadn’t slept a wink. “Come on, Alex, you can shower with Marie and me.”

“Mom! He’s a boy!” Marie whined, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 20

“Yeah, goof, like she didn’t know that!” Caleb taunted.

Caleb and Marie squared off, ready to do battle for no good reason.

“Caleb, stop this instant. You’re the oldest, you know better!”

Caleb retreated without another word.

The oldest. What did being the oldest have to do with anything? He was a kid, that’s all, just a stupid kid! He buried his face in the pillow and gritted his teeth against tears he wanted to cry. Big boys don’t cry. Big boys take it on the chin. He’d never known what “it” was that he was supposed to take on the chin, all he knew is that when he cried it upset his mother and he would do anything to keep that from happening.

By the time he walked into the kitchen, the old woman was standing at the stove stirring something in a pot. She was dressed in a yellow shirt, the green ShopMart smock and ugly brown pants. And she had the guts to turn her nose up at the way he dressed?

His mother was pouring orange juice for everyone and Marie was setting the table. Polly Pig had a seat next to Alex who was perched on a stack of pillows to get him to the right height.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” His mother’s greeting didn’t help his attitude. Yes, he had gone to sleep waiting for the bathroom to be empty, never mind that he’d been up half the night with Alex, who couldn’t seem to go to sleep, or that he’d gotten up to let Krank out. He pulled out a chair and sat down without responding.

“Ca leb is grumpy, Ca leb is grumpy.” Marie’s singsong taunt was cut off by Annie’s gentle touch on her shoulder. She scrunched her shoulders and dropped her eyes. Sometimes even Marie knew when her mother had had enough.

“Aunt Lilly made oatmeal for us,” Annie said.

Caleb hated oatmeal. It was like eating lumps of brains, or at least that’s the way he thought of it. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—complain. There had been times in his life when there had been next to nothing to eat, often enough not to gripe about what was offered. That didn’t mean he had to eat it.

Marie was not so reluctant.

“EEEwww!”

“Oatmeal’s good for you,” the old woman said.

“I don’t like it! I don’t like awful old oatmeal,” Marie pouted, crossing her arms for emphasis.

“Marie! You’ll eat and be glad, do you hear?” Annie said sharply. “I’m sorry, Aunt Lilly, she didn’t mean anything.”

“Well, I’m sure she did. She doesn’t like oatmeal, that’s pretty clear,” the old woman said, not in the way that made you think she might be mad or anything.

Caleb watched as she picked up a bowl of something and dumped it into the simmering pot.

“But she’s never had my oatmeal. If you try a little, Marie, and you still don’t like it, we’ll find something else for you to eat. How does that sound?”

The old woman added something else to the pot and a pleasant aroma filled the kitchen. Caleb didn’t know what it was but it was making him hungry.

“Okay everyone, be careful, it’s hot!”

Caleb watched as the old woman filled each of the bowls with a deep ladle-full of oatmeal then sprinkled each with brown sugar and chopped up walnuts. When she had filled the last bowl and everyone was seated she placed a blue pitcher that held cold milk in the center of the table.

“Let us observe a moment of silence to thank the Lord for our food.” She smiled and winked at Marie. “Even if it is awful old oatmeal.”

When the others bowed their heads, Caleb kept his up. He’d tried praying. So far it hadn’t worked.

After a moment the old woman said, “Amen.”

Although Caleb’s siblings took their first bites with reluctance it didn’t take long for them to realize this was unlike any oatmeal they’d eaten. For one thing it was creamy, not gummy or lumpy, and for another whatever she’d put in gave it real flavor, unlike the goop they’d had before. After one bite Caleb pushed the bowl away. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done but he just didn’t feel like eating, acting as if everything was okay because it wasn’t. It just plain wasn’t.

“So, Marie, shall I get something else for you?” the old woman asked.

Marie was scraping the sides to get everything and merely grinned in response.

“Caleb? Don’t you like it?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Caleb!” His mother’s tone was sharp enough to cut steel.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Very well, go make your bed. We’ll be leaving soon to get you and Marie to school.”

Tears stung his eyes, but he turned away before anyone could see. “Yes, ma’am.”

Caleb had learned the art of housekeeping early on.

Their lives were such a clutter of confusion he tried to keep his immediate surroundings neat and tidy. He didn’t have to make the bed he and his brother had slept in. He’d done it before he went into the kitchen. He was just as happy to be sent from the room, however, because his stomach was growling like mad. It wouldn’t have taken long for his mother to hear it.

He picked up his brother’s discarded clothing and put the items into a trash bag he carried in his suitcase for just that purpose. He added his own dirty clothes from the day before and made quick work of restoring order to the room. It wouldn’t take Alex long to have it in a mess, — CONTINUED ON PAGE 22 —

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 21

but for now he could breathe.

He hadn’t bothered to unpack. It seemed pointless.

They wouldn’t be here long—maybe a day, maybe as much as a month. The only signal things were about to change came when Mom started humming “On the Road Again.” When that happened you’d better start packing.

The clatter of dishes and the murmur of voices told him his mother and the old woman were cleaning the kitchen. He went to the room his mother and Marie were sharing and made the bed, then picked up clothing scattered here and there. His mother was usually as meticulous as he about keeping order but it was evident her restless night had robbed her of energy. Maybe having him and Marie in school and out of her hair was what she needed. Probably she would be better off if she didn’t have any of them. The feeling that came with that thought shot tears into his eyes and a knot into his belly. She wanted them. She was the only one who wanted them.

So what if she dragged them all over the place. She had her reasons.

“Time to go,” his mother called.

Caleb shouldered his backpack. He hadn’t taken it the day before because they’d gotten started so late. Today he’d have to be ready to carry books home or whatever homework they threw at him. Oh joy.

He trudged into the kitchen and was happy to see just his family. He could do without the disapproving eye of the old woman.

Annie dug around in her purse, fished out coins and gave money to him and Marie. “This is if you need lunch money. I don’t know how they do it in these schools but better to be prepared. After we get you settled you can start taking your lunch.”

And oh joy again. Nobody takes lunch to school, he’d tried to tell her that many times but she didn’t listen.

“Marie, leave Polly here.”

Marie clutched the pig and blinked.

“I’ve told you before you can’t take Polly to school.”

“Polly’s my friend.”

“You will make new friends. Real friends.”

Caleb closed his eyes and restrained a groan.

“Polly’s real! Polly’s my real and only friend!”

Annie drew in a deep breath and blew it out.

“Yes, of course. It’s just that if you take Polly to school she might get lost. You wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”

It took another five minutes of coddling and urging, but in the end Polly was left on the sofa awaiting Marie’s return.

Their first stop was the school Marie would be attending. It looked like every school Caleb had ever been to. His mother had a manila envelope with all of Marie’s information: shots, grades, a letter from the last school she went to stating her grade level and other stuff that would keep the principal from asking a million and one ques-

tions.

Caleb stayed in the car with Alex.

“I wanna get out.”

“No.” “I wanna get out.”

Caleb didn’t bother responding.

Krank panted and whined. He wanted out too, but the idea of chasing all over the place to get Krank and Alex back in the car was more than he could deal with.

“I want out!”

“Shut up.”

Alex’s face bunched up working toward a full throttled cry.

“Don’t cry, Alex, please. You can’t get out. Mom’ll be back in a few minutes and we’ll go.”

“Tell me a story.”

Caleb’s jaw muscles flexed with the effort it took to keep from screaming at his little brother.

“Tell me the one about the boy who ran away.”

Caleb licked his lips. He made stories up out of nothing, rattling them off to keep his brother and sister quiet when they were scared, times when Mom had to work late and they were alone.

“I don’t remember that one.”

“You do, you do! Tell it, tell it, tell it!”

Thankfully Caleb spotted his mother coming out of the school. Marie wasn’t with her.

“Here comes Mom. I’ll tell you the story later, okay?”

“This is a great school,” his mother said when she got in. “The principal is a very nice lady and Marie’s teacher seems very nice too. I think she will be very happy here.”

Three “verys” one right after another. Caleb could have said the words before his mother did. It was what she always said. His mother didn’t have to live with not knowing a single person and having everyone talk about you, wonder about you, ask you questions you did not have answers for.

The school he would be going to was in an unattractive building constructed of yellow-colored block that looked like it had been there a million years, and had the appearance of an abandoned warehouse. The only evidence of occupancy was the scores of cars in the parking lot.

“I can get registered, Mom. Alex and Krank can’t sit out here by themselves.”

“Well of course not! Alex will go in with us. Come along, now.”

The halls were narrow and lined with dark blue lockers. An effort had been made to cheer the place up by painting murals along the walls not occupied by lockers.

It hadn’t worked. “Go Trojans!” shouted one wall in electric colors. “Character Counts” glared another in shades of blue. Despite all that it was a dismal place.

Registration took no time at all. They never met the — CONTINUED ON PAGE 23 —

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 22

principal and before Caleb was ready his mom gave a fluttery wave and walked away. Alex toddled along beside her, his face puckered up for a good cry. Better her than me, Caleb thought.

His introduction to the school was an orientation tour conducted by an overweight girl wearing red plastic glasses that clashed with her ginger-colored hair, tight jeans and a Tshirt her mother should have told her made her look like a poster board for fat.

Juan Ortega Middle School was, according to the girl, going to be rebuilt in the near future, as soon as the mil was passed. Caleb hadn’t a clue what a mil was and suspected the girl didn’t either. Like many buildings in his experience this one seemed twice as big on the inside as it appeared to be on the outside. The hallways weaved like a maze. She took him to each classroom on his schedule, showed him the location of the library and gym, and returned him to the office.

“I’ve marked where you need to go for your first class on this map,” she said, handing him piece of paper. With that she flounced back behind the counter and left him to it.

He didn’t remember her name. Why bother?

The teacher in the first mod was a too-tidy middle-aged guy that reminded him of some of the men who hung around his mother. So nice and polite but with insincere eyes, men who liked his mother but weren’t at all happy to deal with the reality of her children.

The second mod teacher was a young woman who hadn’t a clue how to handle a classroom. She looked ready to stroke out at any second and the students spent most of the time ignoring everything she said. The third mod teacher was older and pretty much no-nonsense. He asked Caleb to tell a little about his background. He mumbled his name and said he was just there temporarily until his Dad came back from where he was working. He had a different story for every school he’d been to. It didn’t matter what he said. He wouldn’t be around long enough for his lie to be found out.

During lunch hour he got to meet some of his fellow students.

“Hey, kid?”

The thin boy glaring at him had heavy eyebrows and tats down one arm. Caleb would have walked away but felt eyes on him and knew leaving was not an option. A crowd was gathering around them.

“Yeah.” Less said the better.

“Where you from?”

Caleb had learned after much experience that school held a variety of dangers. The older he got the greater the dangers. This kid wanted to kick his ass, that’s what it amounted to. He didn’t need a reason he just wanted to do it.

Since Caleb was the new kid in town the little tough had nothing to lose.

“Fort Leavenworth.”

The boy’s eyebrows knitted.

“Kansas.”

“What’s your old man do?”

“Nothing. Career building’s not the prison’s main thing.”

Caleb had told various stories over the years to explain the absence of a father. Usually he said his old man worked in some exciting place like Argentina or Spain or the Antarctic; never had he said he was in prison. It wasn’t a matter of thinking it through; the lie came out of his mouth fully formed.

“Your old man’s in prison? What’d he do?”

Caleb shrugged, a helpful tactic when you didn’t want to answer. The kid studied him with eyes so dark brown they looked black. He hoped for all he was worth he would think anybody whose old man was in prison for any reason was not somebody to be messed with. Caleb held his ground and gave back as sullen and threatening a look as he could muster, which was hard to maintain. The boy in front of him scared the crap out of him, but he couldn’t let that show.

“What’s going on here?” The teacher’s voice was like turning on a light in a roomful of mice. The area cleared in no time leaving Caleb alone.

“Everything all right?”

Caleb swallowed. “Yeah, sure, I mean yes, sir.”

“Reymundo giving you a hard time?”

“Who?” “The boy you were talking to.”

“No, sir. He, uh, was telling me where to find the gym.”

“In case he didn’t get the message delivered before he had to head off to class himself…” At this the teacher smiled tightly. “I’ll walk you to the gym.”

“Uh, thanks, but I gotta go to my locker.”

Caleb managed not to roll his eyes or groan. Being walked to class by a teacher would be worse than taking a beating from some school ground tough.

“He told me where it is, that guy I mean. You know, Rolando.”

“Reymundo. Reymundo Carabajal.”

“Uh, yeah, yes, sir.”

“See you in class.”

“Yes, sir.”

Caleb’s heart was sitting somewhere around the bottom of his gut and he was sweating. Not a good start, nope, not a good start at all.

Next month: Chapter 10, Job Hunting

Tiger Lilly, by F.S. Vander Meer, is available on CD as a digital file ($9.50).

To read the previous chapters go to www.happenstancelifehappens.com The story begins in the October 2010 issue

Happenstance • www.happenstancelifehappens.com • March 7, 2011 • Page 23

Read Happenstance

It nurtures your mind and spirit