November 25, 2020: Santa Fe Reporter

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MAY 20-26, 2020

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SFREPORTER.COM

NOVEMBER 25-DECEMBER 1, 2020 | Volume 47, Issue 47

NEWS

WE ARE Committed.

OPINION 5

Robert and Melissa Sanchez, Owners | R&M Construction

NEWS

From start to finish, our construction projects show commitment to quality workmanship and customer satisfaction.

Century shares the same commitment when managing our business loans and accounts. Century is OUR BANK!

7 DAYS, CLAYTOONZ AND THIS MODERN WORLD 6 MILLIONS UNSPENT 9 Despite year-end deadline, Santa Fe local governments have spent only a fraction of money for pandemic relief THE TRAIL TO RECOVERY 11 One year in, the Outdoor Recreation Division has begun the work of building a resilient outdoor economy COVER STORY 12 SFR WRITING CONTEST WINNERS Read the winners of our fiction contest with the theme “pivot.” Special thanks to Soap Refill Store for this year’s prizes

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SFR PICKS 17 Storytelling and truthtalking, plus folklorico, dogs and more

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CONTRIBUTING EDITOR JEFF PROCTOR

SURVIVING THE MORNINGS AFTER In 1980, 2016, 2020: The song remains the same—institutional racism is alive and well

STAFF WRITERS LEAH CANTOR KATHERINE LEWIN

ZAPPA REVIEW Documentarian (and Bill & Ted star) Alex Winter presents the case for the genius that was Frank Zappa, plus the video gaming set gets Insert Coin, a documentary that tells the inside story of Midway THE CALENDAR Online is the new in-person. We’re dealing with it and hopefully our online culture calendar will help you deal, too: sfreporter.com/cal...just remember to not go anywhere on Thanksgiving, please!

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LETTERS

Mail letters to PO Box 4910, Santa Fe, NM 87501; or email them to editor@sfreporter. com. Letters (no more than 200 words) should refer to specific articles in the Reporter. Letters will be edited for space and clarity.

KATHERINE LEWIN

S F R EPORT ER.COM / NEWS / LET T ERSTOT HEEDI TOR

COVER, NOV. 18: “AFTER THE OBELISK”

COULD HAVE AVOIDED Mayor Alan Webber may have the best of intentions (and some success) in removing local monuments to conquest, religion and attempted genocide, but had he and the City Council acted in a timely manner, like many other municipalities around the country, perhaps the mob-like removal of the phallic obelisk could have been avoided and the monument moved and repurposed. It’s unfortunate the action of Oct. 12 had to be the final solution to the problem. We are still waiting for the forum the mayor promised over six months ago to deal with such monuments on public property, some far less visible, that perpetuate this negative legacy. I am encouraged by the CHART commission.

I call upon the City Council to convene it on Dec. 9 as planned and not continue to kick the can down the road.

the impression that Champlain considered these native inhabitants to be wild or cruel.

Actually the truth is quite the opposite.

Sauvage in 17th century French is derived from the Latin silva meaning of the forest. It is generally agreed that Champlain regarded American Indians as fully equal to Europeans in intelligence and judgment and he was much impressed by their qualities of mind.

GLENN L. PEARSALL SANTA FE AND JOHNSBURG, NY

SCOTT SHUKER SANTA FE

CROSS CURRENTS Thank you for your fine article on the history of the obelisk. In addition to being a downtown landmark, it also spoke to the cross-currents and stresses of the city’s multi-cultural history. It will be missed.

Many of us were aware of the word “savages” being chiseled out of the obelisk’s inscription in 1974. Fewer of us are aware how the meaning of the word “savages” has changed over time.

One of the first to use the word “savages” was Samuel De Champlain in his report titled Des Sauvages, ou, Voyage de Samuel Champlain, De Brouage. The title may have been selected by his publisher or indeed

by Champlain himself, but it has lead to

LET IT GROW INSTEAD Why do we need any kind of monument?

Any time something goes up, it tends to be seen as ownership of some kind. How about a beautifully landscaped area, maybe designed by the botanical museum with all native plants, with some interesting and perhaps individually designed areas to sit.

RACHEL THOMPSON VIA FACEBOOK

SFR will correct factual errors online and in print. Please let us know if we make a mistake: editor@sfreporter.com or 988-7530.

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NOVEMBER 25-DECEMBER 1, 2020

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S FREP ORTER.COM / FUN

HOPEFULLY YOU’RE NOT VISITING ANYONE FOR THANKSGIVING Be thankful that you have pajamas and a roof over your head, no?

ALBUQUERQUE NETFLIX STUDIO TO EXPAND Time you spend scrolling through Netflix saying “What the hell even is all this?” to expand, too.

SANTA FE KRISPY KREME KLOSES If only we had local choices better than gas station donuts…

BIDEN STARTS REVEALING STAFF AND CABINET PICKS Maybe they could reveal ways they’re gonna keep people from losing their homes and jobs and such.

LONG LINES AT LOCAL GROCERY STORES Calm down, people.

We’re pretty sure you still have a lot of beans leftover from last time.

SPECIAL LEGISLATIVE SESSION TO BE MORE OF A VIRTUAL THING And all lawmakers must have at least one parent present to make sure they’re doing the work.

WE MOVED After roughly one billion years, SFR no longer calls Marcy Street home.

Time piece from old place.

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NOVEMBER 25-DECEMBER 1, 2020

new place.

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SFREPORTER.COM

READ IT ON SFREPORTER.COM OBELISK COURT APPEARANCES Some of the people who have been charged in the toppling of the Plaza obelisk have their first court appearances. As of presstime, charges have been filed against six people.

W E A R E WAY M O R E TH A N W E D N E S DAY H E R E A R E A CO UP LE O F O N LI N E E XC LUS I V E S :

EAT WELL AT HOME Get a last-minute Thanksgiving inspiration for your non-gathering with a recipe from Human Services Secretary David Scrase for green chile piñon stuffing.

THE SANTA FE ANIMAL SHELTER INVITES YOU TO ITS 24 TH ANNUAL

A virtual fundraiser for New Mexico’s lost, injured, and homeless animals.

Still here to help!

Although our physical offices have been closed to keep us all safe, we at Homewise have continued

STREAMING ALL DAY

12.01.2020 WATCH ON OUR WEBSITE:

sfhumanesociety.org/barkinball

to help people prepare for and achieve their dream of homeownership.

• Work with a home buyer coach via phone, email or other digital means • Online resources for financial and homebuyer education • Virtual and safe live tours of available homes

DOUBLE YOUR IMPACT! Donations made on DEC. 1 will be

MATCHED UP TO $55,000!

100 CAJA DEL RIO RD SANTA FE, NM 87507

Find out all the ways we’re here to help!

505.983.9473 www.homewise.org SFREPORTER.COM

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NOVEMBER 25-DECEMBER 1, 2020

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50% capacity.

100% commitment.

COVID-19 restrictions are easing. While Santa Fe isn’t back to normal, customers are cautiously going out to dine. And coming inside to shop.

By committing to SANTA FE SAFE, local businesses have made a promise to protect your health and the health of our employees. Visit santafesafe.com to learn more about this program.

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S FR E P O RTE R .CO M / N E WS

Millions Left Santa Fe expands program to spend CARES Act dollars, but deadline looms

BY L E A H CA N TO R l e a h @ s f r e p o r t e r. c o m

T

he end of the year deadline for spending federal CARES Act dollars is quickly closing in on the City of Santa Fe and Santa Fe County.

Even as the county expands its small business and nonprofit grant program and the city speedily signs new contracts, both are under pressure to spend all of the money before Dec. 30, and only a fraction so far has gone out the door.

Over the summer, the state allocated some of the federal funds directly to local governments to reimburse their COVIDrelated expenses, and allocated aid to small local businesses through a separate fund administered by local governments.

To date, the city has not asked for reimbursement for any of the $17.5 million it was allocated, says New Mexico Department of Finance and Administration spokesman Henry Valdez. Santa Fe County, meanwhile, has used just $2.4 million of its $10.5 million allocation.

At the beginning of September, the state also allocated nearly $3.8 million in grants for local businesses and nonprofits in Santa Fe city, county and the Town of Edgewood. So far only $119,952 has been awarded.

On Monday, the county and city expanded the eligibility requirements for the Small Business and Nonprofit Grant program in an effort to get money out the door faster.

The grant initially applied only to local businesses and nonprofits with under $2 million annual pre-COVID income and capped the amount a business could receive at $15,000 in reimbursements for COVID-related expenses. Eligible expenses can include anything from rent

and mortgage payments during the shutdown to extra outdoor seating, advertising, cleaning supplies and more.

Only businesses that can prove their revenue dropped at least 25% this year due to the pandemic are eligible.

Now, the program has been expanded to include businesses with under $5 million in annual pre-COVID revenues and less than 100 employees, and each applicant can receive up to $25,000 in funds.

For Santa Fe Climbing Center, the $15,000 grant from the program means at least another month in business.

Owner Andre Wiltenburg says he had to close the gym for several months in the spring, and could only operate at 25% capacity throughout the summer. Now, it has closed again. He says by the end of the year, he expects a total revenue loss of between 25 and 45%.

Still, Wiltenburg says he made the decision early on to keep all of his 10 employees on board for as long as possible. The money, he says, will go almost entirely toward employee payroll and “help us to survive for another month or so...Every little bit helps, and this is a little more in the bucket.”

Liz Camacho, Santa Fe Economic Development and Communications administrator, tells SFR the county and city petitioned the state to let them expand the program in order to move the money to those who need it, and have enlisted other organizations to help process applications as quickly as possible.

The application opened officially

on Oct. 9, and so far 45 applications have come in and been processed.

“We’re doing everything within our capacity to get the money out the door,” says Camacho.

Yet, with only $119,952 distributed and only a month to go, time is running out.

A similar story is taking place on the city side, though Finance Director Mary McCoy tells SFR in an email Tuesday the city has made plans to spend all the money.

“We will seek reimbursement for the full $17.5 million that was awarded. We will be submitting our reimbursement request for COVID related expenditures in the spring and summer of 2020 to NMDFA next week,” McCoy writes.

In an interview on Friday, McCoy rattled off the city’s plans for categories of spending, but when asked to provide a document that listed the estimated costs, contract status and other details, she did not do so.

She says the city set aside $5 million to reimburse direct COVID-19 expens-

This money could revert to the federal government and it could be disbursed to other states.

-Henry Valdez, New Mexico Department of Finance and Administration spokesman

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es from the spring and summer such as additional PPE for first responders and cleaning and disinfectant supplies and signage for the city’s COVID-safety campaign.

The remaining $12.5 million is earmarked for projects such as the new $2 million CONNECT fund to get money to people who can’t pay their rent or who lost income but didn’t receive stimulus checks or unemployment benefits earlier this year. The City Council has approved deals to spend about $2 million of the cash to jointly buy a hotel with a nonprofit to provide affordable housing and about $240,000 for security on the Plaza and homeless shelter.

The finance director says plans call for about $1 million for community health and safety projects, such as a mobile hygiene unit the city is already working to get out on the street; $2.4 million for homelessness and health support, including the hotel purchase; $500,000 to tourism and communications projects such as an app to help with community contact tracing.

Another $3.6 million, she says, is earmarked for city operations such as setting up additional hand-washing stations in city buildings and paying for emergency sick leave.

McCoy says one of the main setbacks has been the city’s own internal bureaucratic process and making sure all of the proposed projects actually meet the eligibility criteria set by the feds for the CARES Act funds.

“It’s been quite a process to learn the rules, to make sure we’re following all the rules and to make sure that the dollars are being spent according to all of our policies and procedures,” McCoy says.

A public records request filed by SFR with the city on Nov. 10 seeking documents that show spending, contracts or plans for the CARES money turned up just one item: signs purchased in June warning people to wear masks.

Valdez, at the Department of Finance and Administration, says not all municipalities have delayed as long as Santa Fe and he says “there’s definitely no advantage” to waiting until the last minute.

He also says the delay in distributing small business grants “is definitely concerning because…this money could revert to the federal government and it could be disbursed to other states,” says Valdez. “We don’t want New Mexicans to miss out on critical aid during the pandemic.”

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NOVEMBER 25-DECEMBER 1, 2020

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OUR NEW ADDRESS IS:

1512 Pacheco St., Ste. D105 in Pacheco Park.

The lobby will remain closed through Nov. 30 due to public health orders.

Please call 505-913-1131 if we may assist you or to make an appointment.

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SFREPORTER.COM

SHAUN PRICE

S FR E P O RTE R .CO M / N E WS

The Trail to Recovery One year in, the Outdoor Recreation Division has begun the work of building a resilient outdoor economy

BY JULIA GOLDBERG @votergirl

A

t the start of the COVID-19 pandemic last spring, when the northwest part of the state had the highest numbers of cases and the virus was ripping through Gallup, resident Greg Kirk says it felt like: “We were the red headed stepchildren. It was awful.

We’re trying to outlive our Drunk Town USA moniker; we’ve been trying to rebuild our community for so many decades now. It was another black eye.”

But as secretary of the nonprofit Adventure Gallup and Beyond, Kirk says the pandemic also galvanized a project to replace worn and damaged signs along the Pyramid Hiking Trail and Zuni Mountain Trail system as he saw more people head outside to hike, bike and recreate. “I’ve never seen so many people out on the trails,” Kirk says.

The group found support from the state’s new Outdoor Recreation Division, which awarded Adventure Gallup a $5,000 grant last month through a special projects and outdoor infrastructure program.

“The New Mexico Outdoor Recreation Division just walks in parallel with everything we do,” Kirk says. “It’s so good to have a bigger champion on our side to really push our agenda forward.”

Silver Stallion’s Mobile Bike Center fixed 428 bicycles on the Navajo reservation through a grant from the Outdoor Recreation Division.

Indeed, one year after its creation, the division has fanned out to all corners of the state, awarding $75,000 among six infrastructure projects. ORD Director Axie Navas says the office received nearly $720,000 worth of requests for that pilot project alone. As such, the state Economic Development Department will be requesting approximately $3.2 million in next year’s legislative session to fund The Great New Mexico Trails Package.

While economic impact was a main criteria for the funded projects, Navas says “we were also prioritizing conservation impact or reduction of potential visitation impacts on an area.” COVID-19 has sent many people outdoors, a positive development, but “we also have to invest in these places, so there isn’t degradation of the natural resources.”

Another recipient, the Village of Taos Ski Valley, received approximately $18,000 to help fund construction for an eco-friendly bathroom in the parking lot that serves as the gateway to Wheeler Peak as well as a highly trafficked day hike trail to Williams Lake.

Katherine Kett, who heads the Village of Taos Ski Valley Parks and Recreation Committee, describes use in the area as growing exponentially, even before the pandemic, which led to the idea to replace porta-potties with eco-friendly facilities.

“We were thrilled to get the grant,” Kett

says, adding that the Outdoor Recreation Division “is really doing an excellent job of filtering this money in appropriate ways and kind of taking a real proactive approach to funneling this money into some really great local, but also regional projects.”

The ORD also will ask for approximately $1 million for its keystone Outdoor Equity Fund, which prioritizes outdoor recreation and education projects for youth, particularly from underserved and low-income communities. The office awarded the first 25 recipients of that fund approximately $260,000 in September for projects the office says translates to 2,700 youth gaining outdoor experiences. It received 84 applications, which, if funded, would have put more than 38,000 youth outside.

The office also has been cognizant of working with tribal governments and pueblos, and has sought to fund projects in communities hardest hit by the pandemic.

Those projects included a grant to Santa Clara Pueblo to build three new ADA compliant picnic at Santa Clara Canyon under the special projects program, and an outdoor equity grant to the Zuni Youth Enrichment Project, an education/recreation initiative centered on the Zuni River.

The office is looking at both these programs, Navas says, “through an economic development recovery and resiliency

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lens that is intrinsically tied to COVID.” Investments in the state’s outdoor recreation economy, which is surpassing the US in a variety of metrics, according to a recent Bureau of Economic Analysis report, will support economic recovery, community health and quality of life.

The Outdoor Equity Fund has similar long-term goals that predate the pandemic, but it’s also true, she says, “for the near and medium-term future, we’re going to have to be creative in how we educate kids, and the outdoors can be a safer alternative.”

ORD also made a special $10,000 award over the summer to the Gallupbased non-profit Silver Stallion to create a Mobile Ride Center to fix bicycles for youth on the Navajo Nation. Silver Stallion founder and president Scott Nydam, a former professional road cyclist, saw a gap in the area for any sort of bicycle community. “If a kid gets a flat tire,” Nydam says, “and they don’t know how to repair it and there’s no repair shop within a half tank, if not a full tank of gas, they’re stifled.”

To date, the Mobile Ride Center has fixed 428 bicycles through a series of 14 pop-up events. “It was received by the communities fabulously,” Nydam says. “It was a better idea than we thought it was and I thought it was a great idea.”

Ultimately, Silver Stallion plans to provide youth and young adult vocational training in both the bicycle repair and specialty coffee industries in a brick-andmortar facility. Nydam, a 2020 fellow with the Environmental Education of New Mexico’s equitable outdoor education program, sees the needs he’s trying to address in the larger context of equity.

“It’s kind of ridiculous how much beautiful landscape we are surrounded by here in the state of New Mexico, and how little equitable access there is to it,” he says. “In my mindset, there’s a systemic neglect toward these things and I applaud Axie, and I applaud the Outdoor Equity Fund for taking a systems approach to address it.”

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2020

Writing Contest FICTION / PIVOT POINT

M

ystery novelist is just Michael McGarrity’s latest career. The Santa Fe author who recently concluded his 14-volume Kevin Kerney detective series with the publication of Head Wounds worked for more than two decades in criminal justice as a police officer, prison program director, law enforcement educator and other jobs in New Mexico.

As he spoke in a recent event online at Collected Works, McGarrity was beaming from a pat on the head he’d received in the form of a positive critique in the New York Times Book Review.

“You can’t ask for more than that, when you write a story, to find out there is an acceptance of what you’re doing,” he said, not-

ing later that one of his secrets lies in his busy past. “I was able to dip into the wellspring of experience for real-life situations that I could wrap around my protagonist.”

Even though he’s already starting on a spinoff series that centers Kerney’s wife as its new lead, McGarrity agreed to serve as this year’s SFR fiction contest judge.

SFR asked writers to consider the topic “pivot” in their short works. They must also include the words “pinnacle,” “mask” and “distance,” which we chose to reflect the world of late. The pandemic has required changes in direction and outcomes in our jobs, schools and leisure activities—as well as our perspectives. At press time, the state is midway through a second

1st White Roses and Headstones

BY D.D. SHERINNFORD

Rain rumbled through the funeral rites.

Marion appreciated the deluge. Having the heavens split open and spill forth, rattling the temporary tent shelter with chilly tears, loaded onto the prevailing mood of grief. The fact that the rain was coming down in torrents despite the day having dawned clearly and temperately struck her as morbidly funny.

Fortunately, being at a graveside was sobering enough to drain the humor from her thoughts.

The priest finished whatever it is priests do at burial services, and while the final prayer was being sniffled through, Marion looked around for her aunt. She saw Elizabeth standing on the other side of the semi12

NOVEMBER 25-DECEMBER 1, 2020 • SFREPORTER.COM

week of strict public health orders intended to “reset” behavior and blunt the spread of COVID-19.

We can only assume the contest entrants drew on their personal experiences, even in fantastical fiction.

D.D. Sherinnford, a local teen who uses a pen name, takes readers to a conversation that follow the ultimate change in first-place winner “White Roses and Headstones.”

Matters of romance and friendship are at stake in “Lessons Unlearned,” by Greg Wagner.

And previous contest winner Jennifer Edelson returns with a dark twirl around an ice rink in “Momentum.”

Nonfiction winners will be published in next week’s edition.

circle of mourners. Once the prayer ended, Marion made her way to the older woman.

Elizabeth looked up as her niece drew near.

Marion stopped beside her. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, about as well as can be expected, I suppose.”

Elizabeth offered Marion a wan smile. “There’s not really a good or easy way to bury one’s father, you know.”

Marion nodded supportively.

Elizabeth’s smile saddened. “I appreciate your sympathy, my dear. I won’t keep you any longer, however.”

A guarded look of appreciation flashed through Marion’s eyes. “I’ll help neaten up a bit before leaving.”

Knowing better than to argue, Elizabeth merely nodded. “Thank you for everything you’ve done to help with today.”

Marion hugged her aunt. “You only ever need ask.”

Marion drew away from Elizabeth and walked back

toward the fresh grave. She started to fold the chairs and gather up the flower arrangements.

She nestled the armload of flowers against the newly engraved headstone. They did little to mask the morbidity of the setting, although they did help to alleviate some of the gloom, their snowy petals vibrant in the rain. Standing back, Marion was struck by their fragility, and found some comfort in it. The statement of pale persistence in spite of inherent fragility was a far more fitting eulogy for the dead man than her prepared words had been.

Half an hour later, she pulled into her driveway, taking the left fork that led to the comfortably sized and furnished guest house nestled in the southern corner of John Dietrich’s estate. The two had met each other ten years before when Dietrich Publishing Co. had hired her to design and illustrate its new quarterly literary review. They had hit off, worked together well, and fast became close friends. They’d stayed in contact through the years, periodically seeing each other when work brought Marion to New Mexico or John to New York. A year and a half ago, when Marion had been looking to move back to the Land of Enchantment to be nearer to Elizabeth who had practically raised her, John had been more than happy to rent the guest house to her. He had spent most of his life as a loner, but was pleasantly surprised by how much he enjoyed Marion’s proximity and company, so the living arrangements worked amicably for the two of them.

Marion had driven from the cemetery and up to the house in silence. Now in her living room, after putting her purse and keys down, she put The Cure’s Disintegration into the CD player and cranked the volume high.

Four harmonious yet melancholy Cure songs later, Marion was lying on the couch staring at the ceiling and thinking of nothing in particular. “Love Song” had faded into silence when there was a gentle knock on the front door. Marion pushed herself up and opened the door slightly to find John standing on the porch.

John held up a six-pack of Negra Modelo. “Since you’re home early, I figured I’d offer you some beer and company...”

A ghost of a smile touched Marion’s lips. “Beer and company? How can I resist?” She swung the door fully open, and ushered John inside.

“Last Dance” was in full swing as John put the beer on the coffee table. “The Cure? That’s the soundtrack for tonight?”

Marion shrugged. “The Cure is good music for melancholy evenings spent rapt in thought.”

“I can’t argue with that.” John opened two of the beers and handed her one.

They lapsed into comfortable Cure-filled silence.

Two songs later, Marion spoke. “You know what’s fucked up about funerals?”

John considered. “No, what’s fucked up about funerals?”

“The weight attached to the ceremony and formality of them.”

John raised an eyebrow. “I hate to break it to you, but the seriousness of the ceremony and formality is kind of the point of them...”

“Sure, the need for closure requires that. But what I mean is, how are you supposed to do the service jus-

tice? Someone you know, and even liked, is dead, and any attempts to do their memory justice will always fall short.”

“People don’t go to funerals to evaluate the speeches.”

“No, but that doesn’t make a eulogy any easier.” There was a short pause. “Do you know what I said today?”

“Ignoring how blatantly rhetorical your question is, I’ll answer simply: No, what did you say?”

“Despite having been retired for fifteen years, James remained a pillar of the community. Unafraid to go any distance for someone in need, his passing marks the pinnacle of his philanthropy…” Marion opened another beer. “Pinnacle, John. Of all the words available in the English language. I went with pinnacle.”

“While pinnacle isn’t the most poetic of words, it’s fitting.” Marion raised a doubtful eyebrow. “I’m being serious. What’s really bothering you about the funeral?”

Marion sighed. “Not counting the priest, there were just eight of us there. The people he knew and mattered to are scattered so far and wide that travel would have limited attendance under regular circumstances, but not this badly. We could only gather the people who lived in state. Do you know what it’s like to know how well loved he was, but not be able to let the people he mattered to come together? Not to mention that I felt like an imposter dressed as a mourner. He was my grandfather; I respected him, and I know he loved me in his distant way, but I can’t say we really knew each other. And yet of all the people he mattered to, I happened to be able to pay my last respects at the service because I live here.”

“These are changing times we live in, Marion. It won’t always be like this.”

“What will it be like, when we’re through this?”

“I don’t know. Until we get there, putting one foot in front of the other is enough.”

“It better be.”

D.D. Sherinnford is a 19-year-old androgynous dragon, who was born and raised in Santa Fe, although she fantasizes regularly about moving to the Scottish Highlands. She spends her time preparing to be an eccentric and cranky recluse, reading books, watching movies from the ’80s, listening to a wide array of music, and talking to her dog.

2nd Lessons Unlearned

BY GREG WAGNER

Jonah stares at the answer to problem twenty-one in the back of his organic chemistry book. Staring doesn’t change the answer. He looks at the notebook page to his right. His conclusion doesn’t agree with the book.

Calculations litter the page like confetti after a homecoming parade. Jonah cannot follow his own attempts at logic. Paper crinkles in the stillness of the library as he turns his wirebound notebook to a fresh page.

Jonah hears the pine-snake hiss of a nylon windbreaker being shrugged off, the telltale snap of metallic zippers hitting the tile floor of the main library hall. He writes down the basic equation and the information from problem twenty-one for the fourth time. The dark gray strokes from the pencil are clean and precise on the ruled page. He begins again.

“How’s it going?” The voice is hushed. It’s Saturday early afternoon. Anyone in the campus library today is here to work.

Adrenaline surges through Jonah’s chest. His hand twitches in a move to cover his notebook. He succeeds in keeping his hand still.

Claire leans over his arm to look at the notebook page.

“Problem twenty-one? That one’s not too bad. Problem forty-three sucks.”

She slides out the chair next to him and sits down.

Metal pegs on the bottom of the wood chair legs screech on the tile as she shuffles up to the thick slab table.

“Great.” Jonah cringes. He looks at Claire out of the corner of his eye. A ray of sun from the overhead cupula’s windows highlights her blonde hair. “Problem twenty-one is kicking my ass.”

She leans sideways to look at his notebook. Her left shoulder comes to rest against his upper arm. “May I?” The crinkling paper is conspicuous as she turns back to his previous attempt. He feels the blush surge over his cheeks.

“Okay,” she nods quietly, “I can see what you were doing.” The weight from her shoulder increases as she reaches over with her right hand to point at the beginning of the messy page. “This is right. You totally had it. But,” her finger traces down to the next line on the page and

she twists her head to look at him. Her shoulder remains in contact. “Why did you go here?”

He doesn’t meet her gaze. He shrugs.

“Silly,” Claire nudges him. “You need to trust yourself.”

She sits up straight. Jonah feels the loss of contact. His back slumps slightly.

Claire opens her math book. “You keep making the same mistake, Jonah. You get it, you know how to do it right. You just need to trust in yourself.”

Jonah takes a deep breath and starts back in on the problem. He finishes in less than five minutes. The answer agrees with the book. He stares at the notebook page and the clear, obvious solution.

Claire turns, settles her arm over the back of his chair and leans in close, looking at his calculation. She smells of flowers and autumn leaves. She turns her face to his, only inches away.

“Told you.” She smiles.

He meets her gaze. Claire’s powder blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. His smile is shy. “Thanks.”

She sits up straight and pulls her math book and her own wirebound notebook closer to the edge of the table.

“God, I hate differential equations.”

Jonah shakes his head and chuckles lightly. A student at the table next to theirs turns and glares at him. Jonah cringes dramatically and mouths “sorry.” The student looks at Claire, rolls his eyes and turns back to his work.

He leans in close to Claire. “How can you breeze through organic chem and have trouble with diffy Q?” Claire tilts her head in his direction, her eyes on the math book. “How can someone breeze through diffy Q and stumble on organic chem?”

“Touché.” He sits up straight.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Claire smile.

“Good study buddies,” she says softly. “That’s why I came here today. Figured you’d be hunkered down.”

A wave of warmth washes over Jonah. “Was hoping you’d stop by.” He feels the blush redden his cheeks. “I needed some organic chem help,” he says in a hurry.

Claire’s smile widens. The space between them narrows.

They work quietly next to each other. *** “Okay, members of the Robert Owen Housing Co-Op, it’s that time again.”

The room quiets. Metal folding chairs groan and scrape on the cement floor as everyone turns to face Meredith.

Meredith grins. “Starting off this week’s rota, is, by popular demand, bathroom detail.” She looks at her clipboard. “Mathew K, Sierra, Malik and Jackie.”

“Seriously?” Mathew groans. “It’s Burrito Monday and Spicy Asian Thursday this week!”

Cheers greet the complaint.

Meredith’s expression hardens. “Stop your bitching.

We all share all the tasks.”

“We work together for the betterment of all,” Georgia says by rote.

Georgia sits to Jonah’s left. He turns and gives her two thumbs up. She bows in her chair.

Mathew turns around and glares at Georgia. “Your gastrointestinal peculiarities are definitely not to my betterment.”

Georgia shrugs. “Hey, I’m unique. I relish my personal, distinctive characteristics.”

CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE

SFREPORTER.COM • NOVEMBER 25-DECEMBER 1, 2020

13

“Enough,” Meredith says loudly. She reads from her clipboard. “Georgia, you and Jonah have grounds detail.”

Georgia grimaces. “Leaf season,” she says quietly.

“Serves me right.”

Jonah reaches over and pats her arm. “It’s okay, Peaches.”

She rolls her eyes at him.

Meredith continues to hand out assignments.

Jonah leans over to Georgia and speaks quietly.

“How’s the foundry project coming? You make any progress today?”

“Great progress,” she says. She leans her head on his shoulder. “Right up to the end. I was trying to smooth the wax on my mold and totally miffed it. Have to start over tomorrow.” She sighs. “That sculpture is forty percent of my grade. There goes my Sunday.”

“Sorry. That sucks.”

“Thanks, Goober.”

Jonah smiles. Things aren’t too bad if Georgia calls him Goober. She gave him the moniker their freshman year. He and Georgia were in the same group touring the campus as high schoolers. When they saw each other in intro to Sociology, they started talking. Georgia is the best friend Jonah’s ever had. And vice versa. But then, her taste in boys is questionable.

Meredith raises her voice. “Lastly!” Jonah and Georgia turn back to Meredith. She glares at them. “This evening is the Nu Mu Psi Fall Social.”

Georgia swears loudly. Her profanity is lost in a cacophony of boos and groans.

“Now now, people,” Meredith claps her hands. The room quiets slowly. “They are our neighbors and school mates.” A mask of disdain and annoyance settles over her face. “Even if they are Greeks.”

Georgia sits up straight in her chair. “Our entitled, do-whatever-they-want-to-ensure-their-entitlement neighbors,” she says loudly.

Jeers and catcalls echo around the room.

“Everything they do is for themselves,” Ben, a junior in architecture, yells. “They can’t be bothered with the welfare of other people.”

“Unless you have money,” Georgia responds. “The dues to live in their entitled, self-promoting little enclave is more than our tuition!”

“People! People!” Meredith takes back control of the meeting. “They have their philosophies and we have ours. And,” she raises her voice as the grumbling grows louder, “we will hold to our beliefs and conduct ourselves accordingly.”

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*** The rusted steel wheelbarrow clangs as the two leaf rakes strike the bottom. Jonah grasps the worn wood handles and pushes it out of the small gardening shed.

He wheels it around the side of the co-op and to the front lawn that borders College Street. The pungent fragrance of dry fall leaves fills the crisp late-afternoon air. Maple and oak leaves crunch under the wheelbarrow’s front tire. Jonah sets the wheelbarrow down on its wooden legs and extracts one of the rakes.

“Work from the street backward?”

He turns and smiles at Georgia sauntering toward him. A motorcycle accelerating in the distance briefly drowns out the swish and crinkle her hiking boots make in the leaves.

“Sure,” he says. “I brought the fifty-gallon garbage bags the kitchen uses for recycling.”

Georgia tugs on the ends of her long sleeve shirt in demonstration. “Ready for stuffing.”

They begin raking backward from the street toward the co-op. The muscles in Jonah’s forearms start to burn.

His upper back begins to ache. It feels good. They work as a team from the edge of the block to the wrought iron fence that marks the boundary with their neighbor. The iron chimes as the rake’s tines strike the bars.

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“Are you going to jump in the leaf piles? How fun!”

Jonah looks through the iron fence at the sorority girl.

She is wearing a black minidress and holding a steaming cup of Starbucks coffee. Their lawn is green and perfectly trimmed. The hired gardeners finished earlier today.

Three more girls get out of a car behind her.

Jonah’s stomach turns to lead.

“We’re not out here raking for fun!” Georgia’s voice drips with sarcasm and disdain. “It’s called work.” She points to the poured-cement housing complex behind her. “It’s a co-op?”

The three girls join their Sister. A tall brunette steps to the front. She stares at Georgia. Her expression is calm and serene. “C’mon, Britany, we have more than a hundred guests to prepare for.”

“Right,” Georgia says, “your fall soiree of the haves and want to keeps. What’s the entrance fee for that?”

“One hundred dollars,” the brunette says. She is composed in the face of Georgia’s disdain.

Georgia shakes her head slowly. “You really do believe your little sorority is the pinnacle of society!”

“The sisters of Nu Mu Psi have amongst the highest placement rates of any order in this country. We support each other in the pursuit of women’s advancement into professional, well-paying careers.”

The brunette turns on her heel and walks away. Two of the girls join her. One remains. She steps up to the iron bars.

Jonah can feel her proximity. Gravity strains to pull him into the earth.

“The Fall Social is a fundraiser, Jonah,” Claire says.

“All proceeds are donated to the city’s food shelf.” Her eyes lock with his.

“Oh?” Georgia’s eyebrows raise, her face contorts in disbelief. “You two are friends?”

Jonah breaks from Claire’s gaze. He looks at his rake.

The tines have brushed the soil. Isolated blades of green grass mix with the dried leaves. He begins raking.

“Always the same mistake, Jonah,” Claire says. She turns and walks away.

Greg Wagner is a farmer by birthright, physicist by education and writes out of necessity. He lives in Santa Fe where he’s just trying to get some of this stuff out of his own, obsessive head.

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Writing Contest

3rd Momentum

BY JENNIFER EDELSON Slick ice, gleaming after one last sweep of a Zamboni, shines beneath my silver blades, glistening accusingly.

Second place, it whispers cruelly.

A basso thumping pours from the speakers overhead, but I can’t appreciate the rumble that moves through my limber body. She glides by, her deep purple leotard a bruise that blights the rink, and at this moment, all I can do is imagine what it will feel like to end her reign. Put her in her place. Rip the evil mask from the plastic, lying face that her fans cling to and make her grovel.

Once upon a time, the ice was magical. People united here, weaving around the arena like distinct threads in pursuit of the perfect tapestry.

Before she swayed the Skating Association with her lies and family money, we embraced our differences.

First place never mattered as much as being there for the thrill of skating, for the freedom. Collaborator, cooperator, mediator, ally—that was me. Especially out on the ice, where everything but my love of team and rink fell by the wayside once the music started.

Now, adrift in her storm, we are static objects and discarded ideas, fractured by the broken light shining off her sequined ensemble as she whooshes by, waving grandiosely like a streamer. Stunted by the cheers her devotees reserve for her deceptive footwork, and afterwards, disingenuous curtsies. Stunted by our tarnished standing.

As long as she exists at the top on her own sullied pinnacle, we will always be members of her marginalized court; inferiors who live off scraps and waning optimism.

Trembling, I turn and gaze over my shoulder at all the faces in the stands, absently tapping my toe-pick on the edge of the rink, the divide between ice and rubber.

Staring from the precipice into the maw of our collective dread. Maybe bargaining with the devil.

Those disillusioned people on the periphery; standing stiffly beside the cascade of cold benches or perched on the ends of their aluminum seats next to her cohorts— the ones not smiling—are they with me?

Glide. Backward skate. One foot up. Spin.

The truth is a hard pill to swallow and now it’s choking me. She’s basked in undeserved light for too long, bewitched crowds, divided our team, twisted rules so steadfast it’s hard to remember what our rink looked like before she rose to fame here. Before. When people knew her parlor tricks and lazy sportsmanship for what it is — all smoke and mirrors. Most of the people in the bleachers now, they’re lemmings. Blinded by brokered fame, captured by the rosy veneer she casts on our club with each successive, jury-rigged triumph. Glamoured by the idea that her self-serving ways are for the good of our crew.

“Focus now,” Coach says from a nearby bleacher. “You need to be a team player.”

But I don’t want to be a team player anymore. I want my rink back. And I want to win.

“Start with a Salchow and move into a Lutz. Sit spin into a Beillman spin, and then kill it with an Axel.”

Glide. Backward skate. One foot up. Spin.

Kill it. Could it really be that easy?

My heart pounds arrhythmically, my pulse speeding up with each arrogant move she lands as she glides by, ending her set with a self-important pass around the rink, making sure to mark the ice as she winds between lesser skaters. I’ve done everything right, followed the rules, but under her thumb the only thing that works around here is ass-kissing and idolatry.

Just look at the way they cheer for her.

Overhead, the florescent lights dim, tendering in the free skate hour. Mindful of the newbies entering the rink, I inhale and step out onto the ice along with groups of giddy children, gliding seamlessly toward the middle of my once perfect oval. A disco ball drops from the arched, beamed ceiling, sending prismatic fairy lights dancing across the rink. The air smells like an immaculately disinfected freezer and the scratchy sounds of razor-sharp blades against smooth ice add to the rink’s disharmony.

I close my eyes, letting it all sink in. Just years ago, this arena was my home. All these varied faces my people.

“You’ll need a lot more speed to really nail that Scratch spin.” She slithers by, grinning as if she doesn’t know I’m a thousand times more competent than she’ll ever be. Like she doesn’t know she’d be nothing but for her rich Daddy. “Of course, not everyone’s me.”

“Bitch,” I mutter.

I dig my toe into the ice and push out, testing the limits of my strong leg muscles as I crisscross the rink.

Muscles I’ve worked for years to build, skating day and night just to earn the right to be here.

“Jump!” Coach yells across the ice.

Backward skate. One foot up. Toe pick. Spin.

We circle the rink from opposite ends, facing off every time she skates past, like stalk-eye flies on a pile of garbage. It makes me cringe. All her posturing.

“I don’t mean to brag,” she says on a round, rotating sharply so our eyes lock as she skates backwards away from me, “but we both know you could learn a thing or two from my technique.”

Backward skate. One foot up. Spin. Toes down.

Repeat.

“What the hell was that?” Coach yells again from the bleachers. “And watch out for the class over there. You almost ran over a preschooler.”

“It’s a fact. You’d be nothing without me,” she smirks, skating within inches as I attempt another spin. “None of you would.”

My blood boils as the middle of the rink clears, making room for the storm I plan to unleash.

Backward skate. One foot up. Spin. Toes down.

Repeat. Drop. Left leg out. Spin.

“Again!” Coach yells, now standing at the edge of the rink.

She glides by, too close, antagonizing me as she measures the distance between my left and her right, eyeing my method.

Backward skate. One foot up. Spin. Toes down.

Repeat. Drop. Left leg out. Spin. Circle the rink. Right foot high. Jump. Spin at dizzying speeds.

Despite her proximity, I land my Axel, earning my salt if I ever did. It’s an incredible skate full of exceptional footwork. And I know she knows it’s extraordinary.

But that smug look on her face that tells me she’d bury a hatchet in my back before she ever let me knock her from her pedestal, does me in. I’m off the deep end of the rink.

Toe pick. Forward thrust. Right foot out, left tucked in. Jump.

I add a leg extension mid-air, swooping out long as I tilt.

She lets out a piercing, horrific, gratifying scream.

As good a marksman as I am a skater, my blade slices through her opaque tights, cutting deep into her thigh.

She drops, hitting the floor as the crowd jumps to its feet.

Wailing, her pale face matches the ice beneath her, tainted now by the steady stream of blood leaking from what I hope is her femoral artery.

Scratch spins are my hallmark. I’m known for finishing my sets with them, like gilding gold with platinum.

But it’s more than good footwork; I’m addicted to the centrifugal force the spin exerts on my limbs, the momentum, compacting everything into a tight package that holds me together. For ten seconds, I am as complete as I’ll ever be and moving too fast to think.

Speeding up, I skate circles around her writhing body, throwing my arms high above my head as I dig my toe into the ice and pivot, turning on point, mounting my spin. She’s a blur now, blending with the fuzzy rink and indistinct bleachers as I rotate. Faster and faster. My cheeks smart against the cold, and the hissing air twisting around my frame drowns out her screams.

In my head, a crowd cheers, pummeling the bleachers’ aluminum floors with their feet.

It’s my best goddamned skate ever.

Exhilarated, I peel sideways on both blades, shredding ice when I throw my arms up as high as my smile is wide, statuesque like nobody’s business. The queen has been beheaded. The rink has finally been liberated.

Jennifer Edelson is a local writer, artist, former attorney, pizza lover, and hard-core Bollywood fan. Her award-winning young adult novel, Between Wild and Ruin can be found online and at all fine bookstores.

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Of all the New Mexico folklorico musicians, there’s one who stands head and shoulders above the rest as a sort of beacon of traditional music, and that’s Cipriano Vigil. The celebrated guitar-building, folk-singing El Rito resident has been at it for decades, carving out a niche for himself as the go-to keeper of ballads, waltzes and more. In 2016, Vigil told SFR he’d sneak out of his house at night during his childhood to hear touring musicians play, and that forging a connection to folklorico has helped as both a means of catharsis and an ongoing reminder of history. Vigil streams live through the Museum of International Folk Art as a Thanksgiving celebration, and the whole thing’s free. (ADV) Cipriano Vigil: 7 pm Wednesday, Nov. 25.

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In summation? Comedy legends beam into your home. Merry Christmas. (ADV) Christmas with the Griswolds: 6 pm Saturday, Nov. 28. $25-$150. lensic.org

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ONLINE EVENT TUES/1 3-ISH IN DOG YEARS You like dogs, right? Of course you do! They’re nature’s greatest achievement (suck it, Half Dome!). You also like the Santa Fe Animal Shelter, right? Obviously! They’re no-kill, they’ve got the best dog parks around and the Thaw Vet Clinic is tops! OK, last question: You like helping, right? Duh! You do, and you like helping dogs and animal shelters while you’re at it. Thus, with the upcoming 24th annual Barkin’ Ball (now in virtual form), you can catch up on heartwarming shelter stories, hear from Shirley MacLaine and other Santa Fe celebs plus, you don’t have to put on real clothes. Win-win, we say. (ADV) 24th Annual Barkin’ Ball: All day Tuesday, Dec. 1. Free (but you should donate). santafenewmexican.com

VIRTUAL LECTURE TUE/1

Video Tales Ongoing I Got a Story to Tell event makes the jump to video “I couldn’t figure out if I was willing to be that vulnerable, but if I was going to be that vulnerable, I wanted it to be good,” Lara Rabkin says. The co-owner of Santa Fe design firm Caba Company, Rabkin is the subject of the next installment of I Got a Story to Tell, a formerly live series of talks from Black Santa Feans spearheaded by local culture powerhouse Raashan Ahmad.

“I think I finally agreed I’d be willing to do one at the end of normal times, the beginning of pandemic,” Rabkin continues. “We started to talk a little bit about how we were feeling with all the police brutality, being isolated and Black in this town and, in my case, feeling really unseen by people.”

Ahmad says he originally kicked off the series to find Black community, but he expects it to grow and evolve over time. For Rabkin, who grew up in Santa Fe, participating was about helping out Ahmad (the two are friends) and also getting some things off her chest that have been there for some time.

“In a lot of ways, the trauma we’re all experiencing in the world feels a little bit like an actual manifestation of feelings I’ve carried inside of me,” she explains.

SFREPORTER.COM

“I think [Raashan’s] focus is to have people discuss their experience being Black in Santa Fe, being at the core and all of us having all these different sort of experiences.”

For Rabkin, this has meant anything from cultural and interpersonal struggle and navigating an event during high school wherein a respected Santa Fe institution practically hosted a slave auction—plus everyday white supremacy, absurd assumptions about racial roles and straight-up racism.

“I believe it will be spontaneous and honest,” she tells SFR. “I didn’t have notecards or things I wanted to make sure to hit…this was focused on me being a biracial girl and my experience growing up in Santa Fe and how that all feels in these times.”

Future guests include Jambo Café’s Ahmed Obo, therapist Shakaya McFarland and many others. Head to earthseedblackarts.org to catch Rabkin’s story and others. (Alex De Vore) I GOT A STORY TO TELL: LARA RABKIN All day Tuesday, Dec. 1. Free. earthseedblackarts.org

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In 1980, 2016, 2020 the song remains the same—institutional racism is alive and well B Y DA R R Y L LO R E N Z O W E L L I N G TO N a u t h o r @ s f r e p o r t e r. c o m

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couldn’t bring myself to watch the incoming election results in 2016, but I woke early the following morning and took a walk to grab The Santa Fe New Mexican. “Shocker,” the headline read. “In Stunning Upset Trump wins!”

I returned to bed, where I remained from morning until night, reflecting upon racism, of course—Trump’s overwhelmingly white supporters voted for a man most Black and Hispanic Americans already believed to be a racist. I lay in bed, torn between disbelief and anger (possibly grief, too, but that came later), revisiting scenes from my teens in the 1980s in Savannah, Georgia, and Charleston, South Carolina—places characterized by the unspoken rules of white supremacy. A phrase played in my mind that captured the casual power of whiteness that instilled in Blacks a sense they must always tiptoe on eggshells: “Watch what white people are fantasizing about, because pretty soon their fantasies will be laws!”

A nightmare had come true. Trump was like a terrible fantasy produced by white fears of Black progress.

I wrestled with how the country cast its lot with a world I’d long since left behind.

In the ’80s, interracial dating was strictly taboo, for example—and I do mean taboo, to the point that a couple testing the status quo put themselves in direct danger of physical harm. Further, recent Civil Rights history was also a taboo subject in Southern high schools, except in small snatches presented in ways that reaffirmed neo-Confederate biases. In other words, the South was characterized by a smug presumption of Black inferiority.

At my first job interview at a local printing press when I was 19, the classic “good old boy” white Southerner interviewing me had very little interest in my work ethic. The interview consisted of interrogating on my feelings surrounding school busing, affirmative action or interracial dating. I was supposed to give answers that mirrored his opinions on these subjects.

He didn’t approve of any of them.

And my experience was not uncommon.

It was a sign of how much power whites felt they had to unapologetically enforce their will. White values, opinions and interests defined reality. Do I need to add that I didn’t get the job?

The mantra in the South was that since slavery was over, and burning crosses was, optimistically speaking, bygone, racism was nonexistent. Any sociological study of Southern

race relations from the 1960s to the 1980s highlighted its persuasive generational poverty, biased judicial sentencing and minority wage gap. We were not schooled to understand systemic racism. We were being lectured that it had long since passed, but we knew it was everywhere.

The president then was Ronald Reagan, a deeply racist man who privately detested Martin Luther King, Jr. He was the ideal president for a South committed to silencing the protest spirit that had enacted sweeping social change 10 to 20 years earlier. Reagan offered silence and guiltlessness to the rest of the nation with his indifference to low-income Americans and his literal inability to address the AIDS crisis, thereby allowing tens of thousands of Black and gay Americans to die instead. His favorite bromide? “It’s morning in America.” To me this really meant “There is nothing in the past or present in all America that anyone should feel guilty about.”

I remembered all this in 2016, while lying in bed and realizing America hadn’t so much progressed as it had circled around its need to simultaneously deny its racism and assert its white supremacy. Reagan and Trump were linked in my mind. Reagan was soft-spoken and avuncular and Trump was crude, rude and abrasive. Reagan was a former film actor, Trump, a reality TV

ANSO N STEV ENS- BOLL EN

Surviving the Mornings After the Elections

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star. They were both presidents who enacted superficial roles. Reagan portrayed simple-minded American innocence while Trump portrayed John Wayne coarseness and vitriol. They each acted like America is a guiltless nation, and droves of white Americans loved them for it.

Three weeks ago, I watched the 2020 presidential election results over the course of several days. We now know Joe Biden received the most votes in US history. Trump received the second-highest.

And I felt relief even as Trump maintained his overwhelming white majority. It increased slightly, even, and while his supporters continue to make unsupported claims of fraud or election rigging or try to stop or start recounts, the truth is unassailable—it’s a desperation ploy.

Having survived the Reagan years and now the Trump years, hindsight gives me insight into why our outgoing president’s delusional supporters gnash their teeth so desperately. Reagan successfully initiated the Reagan Revolution, a conservative trend that dominated American politics for at least the subsequent 20 years—Trump was supposed to accomplish the same.

Among his final acts before the election was a ban of racial and gender sensisensi tivity programming in all federal agencies.

Trump planned to substitute these traintrain ings with patriotic education, thus pervertpervert ing the purpose of such programs—kind of like conservatives in the ’80s who misapmisap propriated Martin Luther King’s words and legacy. By this and other salvos, Trump seemingly hoped to derail movements like Black Lives Matter or #MeToo. But he lost, so his mission failed. He lost a gambit to return to a world where Blacks doubt their own eyes and ears bebe cause power structures tell them racism doesn’t exist. But progressive ideological movements including BLM and #MeToo remain intact, it seems, and influential.

As luck would have it, truth to power isn’t going anywhere.

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RATINGS BEST MOVIE EVER

Zappa Review Getting to the bottom of the mythic composer/rock legend

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BY ALEX DE VORE a l e x @ s f r e p o r t e r. c o m

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Seems the world falls into one of three camps when it comes to Frank Zappa: At the top, we’ve got those who revere the man as some kind of genius; someplace in the middle are the folks who maybe like an album or two but don’t know much; and then someplace else are the people who know the name but don’t know enough. Documentary director Alex Winter (The Panama Papers) made a film for all of them.

In Zappa, Winter takes us from the musician’s earliest days in small-town California and through a brief stint in prison. We follow Zappa and his Mothers of Invention into regular engagements in New York City and across Europe. We follow a solo Zappa through Russia, to LA's Laurel Canyon, through “Valley Girl” and Senate hearings and his position as the Czech Republic’s Special Ambassador to the West on Trade, Culture and Tourism—not kidding—all the way up to those last few years wherein his monumental composition skills finally went full orchestra prior to his death in 1993.

7 6 5 4 3 2 1 WORST MOVIE EVER

INSERT COIN

7

MOVIES

+ FUN HISTORY FOR AN IMPORTANT MEDIUM

- THIS ONE’S FOR THE NERDS ALONE

If you were around in the mid-1990s, it almost doesn’t matter what you were doing or how old you were—you’ll remember the arcade game Mortal Kombat. You know…because of how everyone’s parents and neighbors and senators lost their ever-loving minds over its violence?

Of course, nowadays, it’s pretty tame compared to the violent things we see in games and movies and even on network television, but the popularity of the game at the time cemented the already formidable company Midway as not only a technological powerhouse, but as a

8 + DEEP DIVE

TOLD WITHOUT ASS KISSING - MORE ACTUAL ZAPPA TUNES WOULD’VE BEEN NICE

Winter compiles countless instances of video and photographic evidence covering something like 40 years of Zappa, his crew, bandmates, family, artistic collaborators and seemingly anyone else with ties to the man. Those in the know will no doubt be well aware of Zappa's prowess, but newcomers are sure to learn that while the presentation felt rock-ish, his mind worked more akin to Beethoven’s than John Lennon’s.

We even get the darker side of Zappa’s genius complex and insecurities from musicians who played in his band across time like Ruth Underwood, Don Preston and Ray White—people who all still seem to love and miss him dearly.

Pity, then, that widow Gail Zappa appears mini-

company that took risks that would shape the gaming industry forever.

Director/Mortal Kombat voice actor Joshua Y. Tsui enters the documentarian world with Insert Coin, a lovingly told retrospective of a little Chicago company called Midway (originally Williams) that would develop some of the most enduring games of all time (Narc, Terminator 2, Smash TV, NBA Jam and the aforementioned Mortal Kombat). For a time, we learn, the company raked in billions through coin-operated arcade cabinets. This came from digitizing tech created by devs that flung open the doors of photorealism and laid groundwork for forays into sports and music licensing, the pivot to film (who among us will ever forget Paul W.S. Anderson’s Mortal Kombat movie— even if we badly wanna?) and the revitalization

mally and we get literally nothing from children Dweezil, Ahmet and Moon Unit, though Ahmet serves as a producer, so perhaps that was about journalistic integrity or something. Either way, it’s a staggering if minimally incomplete look at one of the most storied and misunderstood figures in cultural history—a bit of required learning for anyone who claims to love rock 'n’ roll and easily the most worthwhile documentary on Zappa available.

of the medium following the cash-grab bullshit of the late 1980s.

Tsui interviews everyone from John Tobias and Mark Turmell (big names for gaming folk) to director Anderson, Ernest Cline and company folks in between. We hear from present-day gaming journalists who grew up with Midway to developers who still revere the company’s works. This is all to say, it doesn’t much matter whether or not you’re into games, these people created something firmly lodged in the cultural consciousness of an entire planet.

Tsui weaves in the '90s explosion in home gaming, pointing out how Midway's refining the medium led to more gamers looking to get out of the arcade. In the end, it’s almost like the company shot itself in the foot. Devs moved on, the company was absorbed by Atari and

ZAPPA Directed by Winter Violet Crown Virtual Cinema, NR, 129 min.

the rest, as they say, is history. Still, for anyone who ever loved grasping a joystick or can recall writing down the button combo for whatever Mortal Kombat fatality can tell you—it was a long, crazy ride and one that made so much possible. (ADV)

Jean Cocteau Virtual Cinema, NR, 101 min.

I AM GRETA

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+ THUNBERG’S PASSION IS INFECTIOUS - ULTIMATELY UNHELPFUL AND LACKING IN INFO

This is speculation, of course, but Swedish teen activist Greta Thunberg probably wouldn’t love the new Hulu original documentary about her from filmmaker Nathan Grossman.

See, in the film, we follow Thunberg from CONTINUED ON PAGE 20

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her earliest school strike days in Sweden, circa 2018, through international marches inspired by her activism and beyond. We watch her tear up across speeches to political cadres from countless countries. We follow her through some of her famous sailing sojourn from her homeland to New York City for the United Nations Climate Action Summit in 2019—the much-ballyhooed “How dare you?!” speech. And it is through these moments that we learn one very important fact: She dislikes lip service.

Over and over again she tells anyone who’ll listen she’s grown tired of their “beautiful words” and inaction, and though I Am Greta is an interesting enough look at the behind-thescenes moments in her quest to address climate change, it very rarely gets into the actual nuts and bolts of what she’s fighting toward. In other words, we’re repeatedly told she’s doing activism, we’re just not told what, if anything, it’s actually affecting—or how the movement fell in behind her so quickly.

Instead, we get insight into times wherein she felt exhausted or didn’t want to eat. We see international footage of TV commentators attacking her for having Asperger’s (which is admittedly disgusting of the talking heads) and learn about Twitter users who hate her guts.

We observe train rides and obsessive speechwriting sessions; we watch Thunberg’s parents try to support her; we see the masses take to the streets. But how did this happen? Outside of a brief mention that an Arnold Schwarzenegger retweet blew up the internet once, it’s hard to say.

Some might argue I Am Greta is meant to be a portrait of Thunberg, to highlight a young person’s journey—that there’s a sea of documentaries about climate change available. This is true, but one can’t help but wonder if Thunberg signed on to raise awareness for her cause or for herself. The former seems more likely, though it’s highly doubtful anyone who isn’t already onboard will see the film and be swayed.

Honestly, there’s not enough usable information in it, anyway. (ADV)

Hulu, NR, 97 min.

RAINING IN THE MOUNTAIN

5

+ LOOKS GREAT; INTRIGUING STORY - HONESTLY KIND OF BORING

We’re always here for some good Asian cinema, especially when it’s a piece by prolific Chinese actor/director/writer/filmmaker King Hu. But whereas the highlights of that particular world are many, it’s a little baffling that Hu’s 1979 film Raining in the Mountain would get the remaster treatment—it’s kind of a slog.

Insert Coin: If you were upright in the '90s, chances are you played a Midway game at some point.

During the Ming Dynasty, the famous Three Treasures Temple faces more activity than usual. The abbot knows he’ll die soon and must name his successor, which brings an esquire, a wealthy landowner and an accomplished general to help arbitrate and facilitate the transfer of power. Meanwhile, a convicted criminal manages to alter his sentence to a monastic life at the temple, but a connection to a man in the general’s entourage could prove fatal; a young thief might just be roaming around, too, in search of a handwritten Tripiṭaka (Buddhist scripture) rumored to be beyond value.

In other words, the setup is all there for the thrills, chills and Dickensian spills that come from down-on-their-luck types thrust into a world of hardships and coincidences. Sadly, though, Raining in the Mountain is mainly about long conversations in courtyards and parables, or at least the kind of teachings old folks like, namely, ones wherein there’s always some kind of trick wisdom hidden beneath the surface.

Oh, there’s a fight scene or two, though they feel deflated—as does an early act sequence of a mysterious pair making their way across the massive temple grounds in what feels like real time. No, seriously—it’s, like, 10 solid minutes of two people running across the temple grounds.

Pity, too, as the story itself is intriguing.

Perhaps Hu was aiming for a fairy tale thing, but at around what feels like the 300th conversation about what the criminal did, who should be the abbot and how civilians and military types butt heads, it starts to feel like it’ll never end. That’s not to gloss over the gorgeous remaster and the few fleeting moments of excitement, rather that we could think of a lot of movies from that era that might have better deserved an update. This one’s for the Asian cinephiles only, and even then it’s more like a badge of honor than something you’ll be glad you trudged through. (ADV)

Jean Cocteau Virtual Cinema, NR, 120 min.

THE CRAFT: LEGACY

3

+ TRANS REPRESENTATION! - LITERALLY MOST EVERYTHING ELSE!

In 2017’s Band-Aid, writer/director/actor Zoe Lister-Jones (who also had a pretty OK arc on the TV show New Girl) cobbled together an achingly relatable tale of late-stage relationship doldrums and the ways in which couples try to escape their ruts. It was a phenomenal piece of filmmaking that cemented ListerJones as a fresh voice to watch, at least for this writer.

In the newly released The Craft: Legacy, however, Lister-Jones deflates that enthusiasm, disappointing at nearly every turn and presenting a middling and out-of-touch homage to the witchy 1996 original movie—only this time it’s crammed with “hip” zoomer lingo and politics, plus barely there performances from Michelle Monaghan and David Duchovny.

It begins with Lily (Cailee Spaeny), a high schooler of indiscriminate age whose single mother (True Detective’s Monaghan) falls in with some toxic masculinity guru (Duchovny of the vile and unfunny Californication) and decides it’s time to cohabitate. Right away we learn Lily didn’t really have friends in her old town (she’s weird, y’all…with short hair and a mysterious necklace and sad glances and nervousness), but a rocky first day at There Are Probably Witches High tosses her in with a trio of young women/caricatures of modern youth played by Lovie Simone, Gideon Adlon and Zoey Luna. Luna, for what it’s worth, is an out trans actress—which seems cool right up until she gets fewer lines than everyone else and most characters continually refer to “you guys” when addressing her group. Thankfully, there is no trans tragedy angle here, but the witches do hang around and say stuff like “stan” and “lit” and “fam,” and it is annoying.

Like the original movie, the budding witches realize their powers, told here in montage form. Lily, it seems, has the strongest abilities, and the quartet uses their newfound magick (with a “k”) to do fun things and good things and less good things and creepy things.

Somewhere in there, Lister-Jones buries would-be interesting thoughts on toxic masculinity, performative wokeness and consent, but whereas the real-life Gen Z seems to have bravely rejected gender norms, rape culture and racism wholesale, The Craft: Legacy examines such topics too fleetingly before placing the main dilemma of the film on Lily’s inability to process her emotions.

Or so it seems, anyway. Cue last act fall-apart, a one-two lightweight punch of dual twists that surely won’t resonate with the young audiences at which the movie’s aimed—or even at the slightly older set the filmmakers obviously hope loved the ’96 Neve Campbell/Fairuza Balk romp.

In the end, one thing is clear: They want a sequel for this one very badly, but it’s our duty as citizens of cinema to never let that happen.

(ADV)

VoD, PG-13, 97 min.

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43 Tangerine cover 1 “Cinderella Man” antagonist 44 Leading 47 ___ Aviv, Israel Max 48 Peachy keen 5 Stacks of cash 9 First name in Fighting Irish 51 “File not found,” for example 53 Was still in the running history 12 Sansa’s sister on “Game of 56 Phony 57 “Moral ___” (Adult Swim Thrones” 13 ‘80s-’90s TV legal drama show) 58 Lizzo song of 2016 with a license plate in the title screen 60 Rotary phone part 14 “Star Trek” captain 61 Starts the betting 16 Show excessive stubble, 62 To ___ (precisely) perhaps 63 Music collection 18 High point?

64 Marcel Duchamp’s art 19 As originally located style 20 Old-timey hangout with a 65 Overseer counter DOWN 22 Step unit 1 Send packing 23 Repair tears 24 ___ the cows come home 2 “___ just the cutest?”

3 Made ___ (flirted, in a way) 25 Huge success 4 Circle measurements 26 ___ Nublar (“Jurassic Park” setting) 5 Cartoon baby’s cry 30 Party invitation blank 6 “Sad to say” 32 Dark times?

7 Swiss host city for the World Economic Forum 35 Firing figure 36 Tourists’ warm-weather wear 8 Any ABBA member 39 2011 NBA champs, for short 9 Aliases, for short 10 Basic file format that allows 40 Exciting way to take the for bold and underlining world 11 Ornate cupboards 41 “Middlemarch” novelist

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27 Checkbook record 28 Godiva’s title 29 Audibly in shock 31 Damage 32 “___ I’m told” 33 East, in Spain 34 Louboutin item 36 Islands off Spain 37 Movie that brought on “Army of Darkness” 38 “25 Words ___” (game show) 39 Way of doing things 42 Prof’s helpers 44 Faithful about 45 Plenty 46 “1984” working class 49 1977 George Burns film 50 Shell source in the Mario Kart series 52 Clean-up clinic 54 “___ Well That Ends Well” 55 Two-___ sloth 56 ___ de deux (two-person dance) 59 Genetic info carrier

SANTA FE CATS not only supports the mission of FELINES & FRIENDS from revenue generated by providing premium boarding for cats, pocket pets and birds, but also serves as a mini-shelter for cats awaiting adoption. For more information, please visit www.santafecats.com

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DIXIE DO was brought to us from a rescue partner outside of Santa Fe. She was very shy when she came to us, but has made tremendous progress. DIXIE DO is very outgoing now, loves to play and has an adorable squeaky meow when she wants your attention. She gets along with other friendly cats and kittens and would benefit from being in a home with another cat for companionship. She can still be a little shy at times and would do best with a family without children or dogs.

She is one year old.

BERTA is one of several females who were rescued at a Pueblo outside of Santa Fe. She came to us pregnant, raised her kittens and now is looking for a home of her own. BERTA is shy, but enjoys one on one attention, with a slow approach. Her ideal home is probably with no dogs or small children. BERTA gets along well with other cats, but might thrive as the only pet in her new home. She has gorgeous medium length fur and green eyes.

She is 1.5 years old.

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MIND BODY SPIRIT ACUPUNCTURE Rob Brezsny

Week of November 25th

ARIES (March 21-April 19): “A little too much is just enough for me,” joked poet and filmmaker Jean Cocteau. I suspect that when he said that, he was in a phase similar to the one you’re in now. I bet he was experiencing a flood of creative ideas, pleasurable selfexpressions, and loving breakthroughs. He was probably right to risk going a bit too far, because he was learning so much from surpassing his previous limitations and exploring the frontiers outside his comfort zone.

Now here’s your homework, Aries: Identify two actions you could take that fit the profile I’ve described here.

proper function in the social organism. I’m going to unbuild walls.” I hope that sounds appealing to you, Libra. Unbuilding walls is my first choice for your prime assignment in the coming weeks. I’d love to see you create extra spaciousness and forge fertile connections. I’ll be ecstatic if you foster a rich interplay of diverse influences. If you’re feeling superplucky, you might even help unbuild walls that your allies have used to half-trap themselves.

TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Biologists believe that no tree can grow more than 436 feet tall. As much as an individual redwood or spruce or mountain ash might like to sprout so high that it doesn’t have to compete with other trees for sunlight, gravity is simply too strong for it to pump enough water up from the ground to its highest branches. Keep that in mind as a useful metaphor during the next ten months, Taurus. Your assignment is to grow bigger and taller and stronger than you ever have before—and know when you have reached a healthy level of being bigger and stronger and taller.

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): “If you can’t help me grow, there’s no point with you being in my life.”

Singer and actress Jill Scott said that. In my view, Scorpios may be the only sign of the zodiac that can assert such a sentiment with total sincerity and authority. For many of the other tribes, it might seem harsh or unenforceable, but for you it’s exactly right— a robust and courageous truth. In addition to its general rightness, it’s also an especially apt principle for you to wield right now. The coming weeks will be a potent time to catalyze deep learning and interesting transformations in concert with your hearty allies.

GEMINI (May 21-June 20): I haven’t felt the savory jolt of bacon in my mouth since I was 15, when I forever stopped eating pigs. I still remember that flavor with great fondness, however. I’ve always said I’d love to find a loophole that would allow me to enjoy it again. And then today I found out about a kind of seaweed that researchers at Oregon State University say tastes like bacon and is healthier than kale. It’s a new strain of a red marine algae called dulse. If I can track it down online, I’ll have it for breakfast soon. I bring this to your attention, Gemini, because I suspect that you, too, are primed to discover a fine new substitute—something to replace a pleasure or resource that is gone or taboo or impossible. What could it be?

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): “You live best as an appreciator of horizons, whether you reach them or not.” Those words from poet David Whyte would be a perfect motto for you to write out on a piece of paper and tape to your bathroom mirror or your nightstand for the next 30 years. Of all the tribes in the zodiac, you Sagittarians are most likely to thrive by regularly focusing on the big picture. Your ability to achieve small day-by-day successes depends on how well you keep the long-range view in mind. How have you been doing lately with that assignment? In the coming weeks, I suspect you could benefit from hiking to the top of a mountain—or the metaphorical equivalent— so you can enjoy seeing as far as you can see.

CANCER (June 21-July 22): By age 49, Cancerian author Norman Cousins had been struck with two debilitating diseases. His physicians gave him a one in 500 chance of recovery. He embarked on a series of unconventional attempts to cure himself, including “laugh therapy” and positive self-talk, among others.

They worked. He lived lustily for another 26 years, and wrote several books about health and healing. So perhaps we should pay attention to his belief that “each patient carries his own doctor inside him”—that at least some of our power to cure ourselves resides in inner sources that are not understood or accredited by traditional medicine. This would be a valuable hypothesis for you to consider and test in the coming weeks, Cancerian. (Caveat: But don’t stop drawing on traditional medicine that has been helping you.)

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Sensible Capricorn author E. M. Forster (1879–1970) said, “Passion does not blind. No. Passion is sanity.” That’s the opposite of what many poets and novelists have asserted down through the ages, which is that passion isn’t truly passion unless it renders you halfcrazy, driven by obsession, and subject to delusion and irrationality. But in offering you counsel in this horoscope, I’m aligning myself with Forster’s view.

For you in the coming weeks, Capricon, passion will help you see clearly and keep you mentally healthy.

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Alpine swifts are small birds that breed in Europe during the summer and then migrate long distance to Africa for the winter. Ornithologists were shocked when they discovLEO (July 23-Aug. 22): In accordance with astrological ered that at least some of these creatures fly for rhythms, I’m giving you permission to be extra regal more than 200 days without ever once landing on and majestic in the coming weeks. You have a poetic the ground. They’re not always flapping their license to be a supremely royal version of yourself, wings—sometimes they glide—but they manage to even to the point of wearing a jeweled crown and pur- do all their eating and drinking and sleeping and ple silk robe. Would you prefer a gold scepter with mating in mid-air. Metaphorically speaking, I think pearls or a silver scepter with rubies? Please keep in it’s important for you to not act like the alpine swifts mind, though, that all of us non-Leos are hoping you in the coming months, dear Aquarius. Please plan to will be a noble and benevolent sovereign who provides come all the way down to earth on a regular basis. enlightened leadership and bestows generous blessPISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): There’s substantial eviings. That kind of behavior will earn you the right to dence that when people talk to themselves out loud in enjoy more of these lofty interludes in the future. the midst of doing a task, they improve their chances VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): In the coming weeks, I will refer to you as The Rememberer. Your task will be of succeeding at the task. Have you ever heard athletes giving themselves verbal encouragement during their to deepen and refine your relationship with the old days and old ways—both your own past and the pasts games and matches? They’re using a trick to heighten their performance. In accordance with astrological of people you care about most. I hope you will take advantage of the cosmic rhythms to reinvigorate your omens, I invite you to experiment with this strategy in the coming weeks. Increase your brainpower by regulove for the important stories that have defined you larly offering yourself encouraging, supportive instrucand yours. I trust you will devote treasured time to reviewing in detail the various historical threads that tions. It’s fine if you just sort of whisper them, but I’d love it if now and then you also bellowed them. give such rich meaning to your web of life.

LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): “Those who build walls are their own prisoners,” wrote Libran author Ursula K. Le Guin. She continued, “I’m going to fulfill my

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