Ways to Start a Story - Steve

 Ways to Start a Story

Oh, Fair New Mexico - Steve

 “Oh, Fair New Mexico…”

By the end of my four-year stint at Eastern New Mexico University, I learned more about the skeletal structure of the town of Portales and its surrounding terrain than ever expected. It can be a shock to reflect on how much your surroundings can come to play a part in your daily life despite them being totally secondary to any reason for being there. If it’s New Mexico, the impact of the Land of Enchantment is greater than most other locales due to the harsh environment that we call home. It has the capacity to seep into your conscious, subconscious, and unconscious being.

My reaction to Goober Gulch (the town’s unofficial nickname as a peanut-producing center) didn’t even register on my “first impressions” attraction scale. No “that’s an interesting building” or “wow, look at all the stuff in that store window!” I focused fully on getting to know the campus layout and what the buildings served: eat here, register and pay fees here, classes are here and here and here, study here, and shower and sleep here. Welcome home!

I loved Dorm life and class life and the Student Union Building (the SUB). Being on my own fit me like a glove – ah freedom!!!

But, eventually my toothpaste and deodorant ceased to exist! This circumstance brought on ta forced migration that began the accumulation of my intimate knowledge of Goober Gulch’s two shopping areas – ‘downtown” and THE STRIP (really the strip mall, such as it was). A second factor motivating my outreach campaign stemmed from the endless, singular diet of free (and old) movies shown on Saturday evenings in the SUB (the Student Union Building). The only cure? A trip to the downtown theater to see “Lawerance of Arabia” alongside a girl willing to let you buy her ticket and popcorn.

The experience of the journey downtown packed quite a punch – certainly more than expected. One trip morphed into a sweat-fest. Another, a full-body workout from walking the mile and a half back to campus face-forward into a 60-mile-per-hour wind laced with occasional blasts of sand (or as natives like to call it, “Enchantment”). The cumulative benefits of this exposure deposited a knowledge base of the locations of the awnings that would protect you from the rare occurrence of a brief but intense rainstorm.

It was only in subsequent years that the addition of a car to my personal asset inventory brought relief from the pain of ambulatory exposure. It also, however, simultaneously materially expanded the scope of my geographic intelligence. Translation: On occasion, I was able to transport me and a few of my newfound buddies for a social gathering at the nearby sand dunes (peanuts love sand). A full keg of beer and all manner of competitive and engaging activities always complemented these groupings.

Keg parties gave major stress relief from the relentless study load and were especially welcomed after finals. The challenges of some physical always added to the excitement. Inevitably, these exercises became progressively more challenging as the evening wore on. (No comment on the challenges involved in the return trip to campus.)

One special outing to the dunes marked the onset of Lent – otherwise known as Carnival. Late into that special night, our party was honored with some special entertainment. Everyone was questioning the need for such a steep cover charge – $15 per person, but any dispute regarding the exorbitant cost was immediately dismissed once the talent was revealed. Here, on site and in person was a National Treasure. Present was none other than Charene Promise, the renowned drag queen, most recently hailing from New Orleans, Louisiana. Let me assure anyone listening to this story that there was no person left unsatisfied that the performance was worth it. Charlene’s signature red dress, shoes, and painted toenails accompanied her magnificent voice. Indeed, her incomparable stage presence made each dollar spent feel like an Amazon Black Friday special. 

“I’ll be back!” was her departing signature “Promise.”

New Year, New Dreams - Steve

 New Year, New dreams – lessons learned and future plans.

(Do you know what you’re doing and why?)

Resolutions for the new year can come from a variety of perspectives. They can express a need to rid yourself of damaging habits that affect your physical and mental wellbeing. They can resurrect your longing for bygone feelings generated by lost energy and a lack of purpose. They can take form through conversations with yourself. They result from examining your position in the cycle of life and your proximity to its end. Resolutions can bring new dimensions to your life and your pursuits.

Normally, for me, the process of coming up with a few resolutions is one where I take a sheet of paper, sit for a considerable amount of time, and list the actions that I want to make as commitments for the new year and beyond. This year, I’ve decided on a different approach. Motivated in large part by the imminent arrival of my 80th birthday, I have decided it’s more critical to change my focus from looking for what’s wrong and shift to seeking what is most important and how to balance my commitments and time relative to those choices.

What are some of those decisions? First to pop up on the list is my commitment to my wife and family. The motive is reciprocal and connective. I don’t have feelings that I’m neglectful of this, but I believe I could be more purposeful in the use of this time allocation. So, my resolution is that I will strive to listen more closely, be responsive rather than lecturing, and reach out more frequently to raise my awareness of my family’s status and communicate mine.

Second is my attitude and commitment to my art. The primary impetus is self-satisfaction and, most of the time, independent of any feedback. I’ve allocated a lot of time in the form of direct work on art projects and contributions to the sculpture garden as well as other public art projects. This has happened somewhat to the detriment of other objectives. My resolution is to dial back on the time a bit while focusing on the current set of obligations (i.e., saying no to and delegating work on new projects). I’m only committing to projects that satisfy me personally – a selfish choice but one I can afford to make at this point in life.

The third one relates to the connective nature of this community. I have a great amount of respect and appreciation for the people of this community we call Elements. I know that virtually all people have their idiosyncrasies and occasionally reveal traits that aren’t aligned with my values. But at the same time, if I can limit my need to express and hold to my principles without forcing them on others (or even verbalizing them, for that matter), those bonds that provide the connections will make this a unique place to live and bring happiness and content. So, that will be one of my resolutions. 

Fourth and finally, I resolve to be less “preachy” and formal in my writing and so far, I’m not off to a very good start. This may be harder than I thought… but a little on the “necessary” side.

10 Minute Exercise - Onomatopoeia - Steve

 10 Minute Exercise – Onomatopoeia

Late at night when nothing is disturbing the house – no TV, no music, no conversation, no random traffic out front - the mind can be a snare for random sounds magnifying as they arrive. The surprise of a clap of thunder raises the hair on your neck and prickles the backs of your ears. The soft, subtle drops of rain falling on the window draw your eyes toward the drips of water slipping down to the bottom of the sill. The clacking of the keys of your PC forcing you to first lose touch with the whisp of thoughts that were guiding fingers busily hammering out words. Then, conversely giving you the rhythm needed to drive toward the final letters of a satisfying sentence. At the end of it, all this commotion yields a quiet, peaceful finish to another day. Time for bed!

10 Minute Exercise - pistrophe - Steve

 10 Minute Exercise – Epistrophe

I just felt the stab of a recurring bad memory - weighing on me like a wet blanket. It was from a time when I struggled to free myself from the depths of depression resulting from being let go from a job for the first time and the only time of my life and weighing on me like a wet blanket. I couldn’t function properly; every move was labored – weighing on me like a wet blanket. I had no energy, wanted to lie down and give in to the heavy load – weighing on me like a wet blanket…

Connecting Three Pieces - Steve

 Connecting Three Phrases: Gun runner, By the zoo keeper’s office, Over the frozen pond

It was during a particularly severe cold snap in February that the call came in. It was from a reliable informant. A gang called the Northern Alliance was looking for 4 clean-wiped AR-15’s. Normally, this was the calm time of the year because the weather kept most everyone off the streets, including the bad guys. Sargent Green entered the news into the call log database so everyone on his team would be informed of the activity about to take place. 

The sources for this type of weapon were limited to the few known gun runners that frequented East Albany, so Green wasn’t too concerned about something happening without him being aware of it. Still, being this close to the border invited the risk of a new bad actor coming on the scene. Better to be safe than sorry, he thought, so he alerted the feds as well via BSAM (the Bulletin System for Arms Movement). They have a BS for everything, Green thought.

Greens’ next step was to inform his chief of the call, so he left his desk and dropped by the zoo keeper’s office, the moniker affectionately given to the chief by his staff. After all, they were a bunch of animals that collectively couldn’t be more diverse, natively wild, and in constant need of being watched over.

Chief Baker wasn’t in.  Maybe he’s in the john, Green thought. I’ll give him a minute.  

Checking his phone, Green saw a red-text flash that alerted him of a call for backup at the new shirt factory located on the north side of town. It had just been verified this morning that the owner was a mob boss with connections to the big city, so it wasn’t a stretch to assume that this was a cover for money laundering and who knew what else – maybe gun runners. Two officers had a warrant and were getting ready to breach the entry at the shipping dock but needed support to cover the front entrance of the building. Without hesitation, Green grabbed his coat, called for Adams to join him, and left the HQ in a silent run heading to the factory location. 

The 8-minute ride was uneventful, and he checked in with the lead officer saying he and Adams were on site at the entrance and ready. Green got the word that the team was moving and to cover the front. Within a few seconds, three men burst out of the front door. Fortunately, none of them were armed. Each of the perps headed a different direction, one left, one right and one, the dumbest one, straight toward the officers. Green took down the man that had made the mistake of going straight at them and Adams took chase of the one that went right, leaving the other suspect no choice but to try his escape over the frozen pond - his only pathway. Adams caught up with the perp that went right and took him down without much effort. Anyone in a suit and tie was at a disadvantage and in seconds, Adams had him cuffed and shivering on the ground.  

By this point in time, Green had taken up pursuit of the pond perp just as the two breaching officers came out the front door to join in the action. Evidently, no other bad guys were found in the single story building and they were eager to join in the hunt. Because the frozen pond had slowed the escape significantly, and the final perp was handicapped three to one, he was easily caught and detained.

A search of the “factory” yielded 10 AR-15’s and enough ammo for a small army – evidence that would convict the three stooges and send them away for several years. 

Sargent Green intended to mark this as the shortest successful crime cycle in the history of zoo keeper’s tenure in East Albany and apply for a promotion that he knew he wouldn’t get. At least it would be worth an extra donut at the morning call session.

Bradley Wilson - Steve

 Bradley Wilson

A New Beginning - Steve

 

A new beginning? Why? Is my life so bleak or broken that I am required to start over? Maybe, but before starting out with that directive, let’s step back and look at where I am relative to where I want to be.

Here are few basic realities: 

Am I perfect? Far from it.

What is taking up most of my consciousness and is this “worth” the allocation of time and effort?

Am I fulfilling the justified demands of my life – to my wife, my family, my friends?  (feeding the connections that in turn, sustain my happiness; being sufficiently responsible for my health and wellbeing; awarding them the time and attention needed; 

After considering these allocations and necessities, what is it that I really want out of life; what goals are appropriate? 

The Last Season - Marc

 THE LAST SEASON

The fog parts

for the briefest of moments

Spring appears

then disappears as I reach for it

Leading me to doubt

I ever knew it

Summer, oh summer

superman I was

First love, invulnerable

first heartbreak

Never ending

but it did

Autumn, I know you

Working like a rabbit

On the run

in a race, chasing

Chasing, chasing

things that never mattered

Now, winter

in this forest of trees

All dead

Through the cold wind

I walk on

to my fate

Dreams in the Holler - Nancy

 The wind is blowin hard down the holler like some injured coyote howling in pain. I button up that last button on my shirt, put on my cap and head out the door with my pole. If I don’t get to it none of us will eat tonight. I head down on the well-worn trail that leads to the pond over the ridge. Just then I hear Hatch holler out to me, Hey June Bug hurry up, there are a gob of fish all gaum up here in the cove just right for catchin. My word I say with amazement. It’s like Jesus done did with Peter when he put out his net to fish. The catfish were practically jumping on to the shore for us to catch. I’m not sure why this was happening. But I knew I was going to have a tough time toting these here fish back over yonder.

I opened the front door with my load of fish to find mama still sitting in her chair looking out to nowhere. Since daddy died in the coal mine mama has never been the same. The kids were out back swinging on the vine and chasing around old Hank our mutt of a dog. “If you want to eat youngins you best be gettin some vegetables from the garden and gathering some eggs.” I started skinning the fish to dip in some flour batter when that Peckerwood from the government office comes bouncing up the road in her truck. “Hurry up Dolly and Loretta get in here the law is a coming”. They knew what I meant and what to do as we’d done this before. Fat Fani, that’s we called her cause her britches clean split in two waddling up to our cabin one time.  She thought because mama was out of her head due to too much moonshine and meth that us kids needed to live with a bunch of strangers. They can send me to the gates of hell before me and my sisters are going to live with a bunch of jaspers I yelled out to no one.

 I locked the door and cocked the shotgun. “You best be gettin your sweet ass off our mountain or this 12 gauge will be helping you to it. “Don’t think I won’t be back June” she said with certainty. “If you want to live like the rest of these hillbillies you can. But those youngin girls need a real mama who can school them while there is still hope for them.” “I school them just fine” I shouted through the door. “Now get with you.” 

As she drove off, I knew I had to hunker down with these girls and get them to learning good. I had finished 8th grade with almost all A’s. But that was before mama took a turn for the worst. Now I was the mama taking care of everyone. I wasn’t complaining. I was good at fishing and huntin. The girls loved to garden. And granny Willis taught us how to sew and crochet so we would have clothes on our backs and blankets on our beds. Everyone in the holler took care of one another. If you had too much of something you shared it. And if you were needing something you would most likely end up with a heap of it from folks stoppin by to give it to you.

Once awhile back there was a lady who had come to town. Talk all over the holler was she was from the big city and here to write a story about us mountain folks. I wanted to see what a big city person looked like so I took our old chevy truck missing one of the doors and drove it down into Hazard to take a look. When I saw her, it was like seeing a princess. She had beautiful long yellow hair, shiny like corn silk, ruby red lips and a full mouth of the brightest white teeth I’d ever seen. She smelled like a field of lilacs. She said her name was Diane, Diane Sawyer and that she was from Kentucky too. I always wondered if she was kin to the Tom Sawyer I’d read about in the books at school. 

The people with all the fancy equipment asked me if I wouldn’t mind meeting Ms Diane. And so we sat and talked for a spell.  She talked funny not like the folks around here. But it sounded real nice. She was nice. She asked me all about my life. I told her about mama, the girls and that I could cook fried chicken, collard greens and hot biscuits that would make you cry for more. She asked me what we did for fun when we weren’t working the land. I told her how all the folks gather almost nightly on Mr. Joe Don’s big porch and bring their fiddles, banjos and harmonicas and play knee slappin music we can all dance to. I told her me and my sisters can sing like songbirds in harmony to almost any song. Mama named us all after country singers she would listen to on the radio. I think we were singing in her womb before we were even born. She asked me to sing for her. I said better yet, you need to come tonight to Mr. Joe Don’s porch and hear for yourself how these magic mountains’ sing along with us. 

The word spread like wild fire that this Lady Diane would be coming to our social on the porch that night. Everyone dressed in their best overalls, pies were baked, viddles prepared and a little moonshine poured for inspiration.  Just like she promised she came with a few of those city folks in a fancy truck that looked worse for wear after climbing up those dirt mountain roads. The music started playing and me, Dolly and Loretta started singing our hearts out. After a few rounds of Blue Kentucky Girl and Jolene Ms Diane came up and hugged me hard. She looked me straight in the eye and said, “Sweet June you have the voice of an angel. You need to share this God given talent beyond these mountains.” A big tear welled up in my eye and I couldn’t stop it from running down my cheek. Nobody has ever told me I was special or had talent from God. She said, “Well you do young lady. Your beautiful voice could be the means for you to support your sisters, get your mama help and live in a house with real plumbing.” But how?” I said. Let me see what I can do. She left that night leaving my heart full of dreams. 

Several months later a delivery truck found its way to our little cabin. A man called out, you Ms June Swift? This here box is for you and it’s come all the way from New York City. Well, I’ve never heard tell that such a package bigger than the man himself could come to me from such a faraway place. It must be from Ms Diane.  I hurried and opened it up with my jack knife. It was like a treasure box full of gifts. There were lots of books, novels she had called them. There was a bottle of perfume that smelled like lilacs just like her. There were smelly soaps, fluffy towels and shoes and clothes for the girls. There was also the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen made with flowers in every color spilled all over it. And at the very bottom of the box was a funny black box that had a note on it that said, push this button. So, I pushed it. Out of that black box comes the sound of me singing. It was like I was singing on the radio. There was an envelope with a letter inside. It said, Dear June, I was so glad to meet you. I have met important people from all over the world whom most of them think they are very special and they’re not. But you sweet girl are very special and you don’t know it. The love in your heart for your sisters, mama and neighbors shone through you like a  light beam. That radiant light carried through in that fresh angelic voice of yours. My husband was the best at spotting talent and bringing it to full bloom. Perhaps I learned a thing or two from him, because I believe in you. So put that pretty little dress on and come sing to the real Dolly next week. I’ve arranged everything. A car will come pick you and your sisters up and bring you to Nashville. Pack a bag. You are coming to Dollywood.