Mountainair Online (the blog)

All Hail the PUBLIC Library

2011-05-04T02:39:00.000-07:00

All Hail the PUBLIC Library | On the Commons

"The public library is indeed an institution that has not kept up with the times. But given what has happened to our times, why do you see that as unhealthy? In an age of greed and selfishness, the public library stands as an enduring monument to the values of cooperation and sharing.

This is not the time to take the word “public” out of the public library. It is time to put it in capitals.

The public library is a singularly American invention. Europeans had subscription libraries for 100 years before the United States was born. But on a chilly day in April 1833 the good citizens of Peterborough, New Hampshire created a radical new concept—a truly PUBLIC library. All town residents, regardless of income, had the right to freely share the community’s stored knowledge. Their only obligation was to return the information on time and in good condition, allowing others to exercise that same right

....

Since its inception the American public library’s prime directive has been to protect the public’s access to information. In 1894, the right to know led Denver’s public library to pioneer the concept of open stacks. For the first time patrons had the freedom to browse. In the 1930s, the right to know led Kentucky’s librarians to ride pack horses and mules with saddle-bags filled with books into remote sections of the state."

local food security or foodie avocation

2011-03-29T16:26:00.001-07:00

Yes, yet another shout out for the #Mountainair Farm & Garden Market, scheduled to open Thursday May 5 in the town square designate street space between Dr Saul and the Community Library. So why does this post appear here and not there? It expresses an unofficial but deeply held opinion and, indirectly, my own concerns about the local farmers market's mission and directions. Since that's personal not official, posting to either blog or Facebook page would not be appropriate. My own pages are another matter.

I support the Market, tend its web presence but not with a blind eye. Among concerns, there does not seem to be much local gardener, grower, producer participation. That is, in turn, likely to translate into less support and the market as just another hobby interest as reflected in the title. But like the wheel in Destry Rides Again, it's the only one in town. If we see a value in having a local farmers market and want stakeholders representative of the community, then fix the wheel.

This is an article all farmers markets, the NM Farmers Market Association, the NM Environment Department, Mountainair Farm & Garden Market and other food interest related groups would do well to read and consider as they think about their purpose, expressed in the article's closing line, "real food security is an ethical imperative."

The omnivore's other dilemma: expanding access to non-industrial food, Bob Comis, Grist Magazine

A couple of years ago at a farmers market, a woman approached my stall, a little apprehensively. She looked old and beaten down. Her face was weathered and worn. Her hands looked rough and gritty. But, it was clear that she was younger than she looked. Her clothes were poor. Her jeans were worn thin around the knees and had faded spots of dirt here and there on her thighs. Before she even said a word, I imagined a life of hard work and hard times for her.

She came over to the stall and without looking up at me started looking over the meat case, and then after a moment, she fingered the edge of the price sheet for a moment and then picked it up to take a closer look.

As she looked, I waited, without saying anything, wondering how things were going to go. I had long ago stopped stereotyping people. Yes, I had imagined a hard life for her, but that didn't mean that she wasn't willing to pay half a day's wages on pasture-raised, local pork, or grassfed lamb. I'd been surprised by too many people to make that mistake again.

She carefully placed the price sheet back on the table and placed the small orange wee-bee little pumpkin paper weight back on top of it.

Then for the first time, she looked up at me. I smiled.

"Hi," I said.

"Hello," she said, and then as we looked at each other silently for a moment, I was taken very much by surprise. Her eyes quickly welled up with tears; one slipped out and slid slowly down her cheek. She raised a hand up and wiped it off. "I'm sorry," she said.

#more

"Don't worry about it," I replied.

"It's just ... it's just that I am so frustrated."

I didn't say anything. It was clear that she wanted to speak her piece.

After a moment, still with tear-filled eyes, she said, "You know, I want ... ," she wiped another tear away, " ... I want so badly to stop eating grocery store meat. It's terrible. Terrible for you. It tastes terrible. It's all full of crap, hormones, drugs, and God knows what."

I nodded.

"But this," she said, sweeping a hand over the meat case, "I just can't afford it, any of it."

"I'm sorry," I said, a little uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed. I looked away from her, around the rest of the farmers market. The people at the market were not monolithically well off, or white. It was not just soccer moms and exuberant well-off foodies. But, it was close.

....

I believe I have an ethical obligation to find a way to provide real food security for people of limited means. Nobody should have to cry because they can't afford real food, which is one of the reasons I want to sell my pork in Price Chopper.

Of course, real food security is not only about developing infrastructures to make it possible to get local meat into supermarkets like Price Chopper. There is cultural work to do as well, including changing the "race to the bottom" supermarket mentality. Supermarket executives and managers need to be convinced of the value of supporting farmers by paying decent prices for non-industrial meat, and in turn, taking less of a profit margin to keep the prices down to help provide real food security. That is asking a lot of large corporations acting in competitive markets.

Is it too much to ask? The corporate mantra is that all that corporations do is give customers what they are asking for. So, let's call them on it. Let's start asking for broadly affordable local/regional meat that supports our local/regional farmers by compensating them fairly.

No more tears. Real food security is an ethical imperative.

Christmas Land

2010-12-12T22:52:00.000-08:00

... and Mountainair's Dr Saul Community Center transformed...

Another Mountainair Mural Installed

2010-12-09T22:43:00.000-08:00

Mural and Muralists, Dec 6, 2010

Salinas Pueblo Mission Visitors Center

website update notice

2010-11-19T03:49:00.000-08:00

Small stuff ~ calendar page added (layout needs a tad more tweaking), links to local directory page and comprehensive Mountainair and related links page (340+ tagged by category for easy searching).

on the road

2010-09-24T07:28:00.000-07:00

but nothing Kerouac about it, just on the road to Mountainair via Hwy 47, heading toward US 60 (hang a left heading toward Blue Springs), This the back to Mountainair route from UNM Valencia campus, Belen or Albuquerque (unless you hang your left from the Bernardo exit at I-10). Sere llano flatlands (high desert plains) heading toward Abo Pass and Manzano foothills. Mountainair itself is further down (up) the road. Imagine a train just out of view hurtling toward the crossing.

I'm not sure how the visual symbolism works does someone who rarely leaves Mountainair's physical dimensions just that it somehow does. A return that is not quite virtual nostos.

Website News: Sunflower Festival page updated

2010-08-11T01:19:00.001-07:00

I have updated the Mountainair Online (not this blog but its "Mothership," in a manner of speaking) website's main Sunflower Festival page. It is now current for 2010.

Art Alley Sunflowers, photo by ACarole
signature image, Sunflower 2000

Neglecting static pages is an unfortunate side effect of taking up blogging. Facebook has a similar effect on blogs. I'm experimenting with ways to integrate Mountainair Online's static website pages, blogs, microblog (i.e. Twitter), and social networking (more or less limited to Facebook). Aggregator pages (i.e. NetVibes, PageFlakes, etc) look promising, e.g. Online in Mountainair hosted at NetVibes, which also has the portfolio or PLN potential. The Facebook Mountainair Online page functions as another aggregator pages ~ more networking but fewer design options.

Gate at #Mountainair's haunted Shaffer Hotel

2010-08-10T12:40:00.000-07:00

A different view of the Shaffer Hotel's Serpent Gate than the daytime one we are more familiar with. I wonder if the Gazebo (in the background) is haunted by poètes maudits or the characters from Michael McGarrity's Mountainair set mystery of the same name.

Gate at haunted Shaffer Hotel in Mountainair, NM #iphoneograp... on TwitpicPhoto by @CreativeEnt
From Serpent Gate book jacket: Mountainair, New Mexico. The very name conjures up the clean air, the foothills, the gorgeous mountains of the Southwest. Some would say this is God's country. It's also Kevin Kerney's, especially when crimes like rape and cop murder intrude on the outwardly idyllic setting.
Excerpt: Chapter One, Serpent Gate by Michael McGarrity

Kevin Kerney sat in an unmarked state police car across the street from the Shaffer Hotel in Mountainair, New Mexico, waiting for Robert Cordova to show up. Kerney had tracked Cordova to the state mental hospital in Las Vegas, only to discover that he had run off two days earlier. Cordova was a schizophrenic with a history of disappearing from the state hospital as soon as he was stabilized on medication.

A hospital psychiatrist had told Kerney that Cordova had no permanent residence and usually went back to his hometown of Mountainair after running off. Eventually he'd show up at the health clinic in town, looking for cigarette or coffee money, or he'd be found wandering the streets in a full-blown psychotic episode.

Kerney had already checked for Cordova at the clinic. The secretary hadn't seen Robert, nor had the other locals Kerney spoke with, but everybody he questioned noted Cordova liked to hang out in front of the Shaffer Hotel.

Twenty minutes into Kerney's wait, the information proved to be right on the money. A scruffy-looking man with an untamed beard and tangled dark hair came scurrying down the street around the corner from the state highway that ran next to the hotel. Filthy high-top sneakers with no laces slapped against his bare ankles as he hurried to a low fence in front of a small park and gazebo adjacent to the hotel. He stopped dead in his tracks and wheeled to face the fence.

Before the man turned, Kerney got a good look, consulted a mug shot, and made a positive ID. A runt of a man in his mid-thirties, no more than five foot four without an ounce of fat, Cordova wore tattered jeans that hung low on his hips and a soiled plaid shirt, too large for his skinny frame, that ballooned around his waist. It was a chilly early November day and Cordova wasn't wearing a coat.

Cordova interlaced his fingers at the back of his head, stuck both thumbs in his ears, did an abrupt about-face, and started marching from one end of the fence to the other in a rigid measured cadence, as though he were a sentry on patrol.

The fence bordering the park was a stunning piece of folk art. The railings, posts, and two gates were fashioned out of hand-formed concrete imbedded with an amazing array of icons depicting two-headed animals, fanciful birds, stylized fish, and human figures, all made with odd-shaped colorful stones. Smack in the center of the fence, a long serpent with an arrowhead tail writhed and coiled, its head sporting a sharklike fin, the base of its neck sprouting incongruous insect legs.

On the railing above the serpent, the artist had signed and dated his work, using pebbles and hand-cut fragments of shale to spell out BUILT BY POP SHAFFER 1931. Shaffer had also built the hotel he'd named after himself.

Kerney stayed in his unit with the motor off and the window open watching Cordova parade up and down, his thumbs jammed in his ears, shaking his head vigorously.

Cordova's bizarre behavior made Kerney hold back from making an approach. He didn't know much about Cordova's mental condition other than that the man heard voices and talked to Jesus Christ a lot. Kerney didn't want to fight his way through Cordova's delusions; he needed Cordova to be rational when he questioned him.

Six months ago, Cordova had been interviewed about the murder of Patrolman Paul Gillespie. He'd been completely incoherent at the time, in the middle of a psychotic break. After the interview, Cordova disappeared and could not be found again for further questioning. Kerney hoped he could learn something from Cordova that might help him get a handle on the case. He was running out of leads on an investigation going nowhere.

The murder had stymied the state police and the FBI. Officer Gillespie had been found shot once in the head with his own handgun at the Mountainair police station on the opening night of the annual town rodeo. Virtually every resident of Mountainair and the surrounding area had attended the event, including Gillespie, who was on duty at the time. He was seen leaving the rodeo grounds during the calf-roping finals. An hour later his body was discovered by Neil Ordway, chief of the two-man force.

A month after Kerney's friend Andy Baca had been appointed chief of the New Mexico State Police, he had reached out for Kerney, given him a badge, and sent him down to Mountainair to find Gillespie's killer. For almost four weeks Kerney had been making the eighty-mile drive from Santa Fe to Mountainair, spending his days running down every possible lead. So far, he had nothing to show for the effort.

Cordova suddenly stopped marching, pulled his thumbs out of his ears, and ran a hand over the serpent icon in the fence. To Kerney it seemed almost like a caress. Cordova turned, looked in Kerney's direction, raised his face toward the weak November sun, and smiled. His body relaxed and his face lost some of its tightness.

Kerney thought maybe the time was right to approach Cordova. He got out of the car, and as he crossed the street Cordova extended his hand like a pistol, sighted with one eye, and pulled off an imaginary round.

"Are you a cop?" Cordova called out as he walked toward Kerney in a tough-guy strut.

Kerney stopped and nodded.

Cordova smiled broadly. His teeth were chipped and badly stained. His beard had dried gobs in it, but Kerney couldn't even guess what the substance might be.

Cordova put his wrists together at his waist. "Cuff me and take me to jail. I'm hungry."

Cordova gave off a ripe odor of vomit and urine, and his breath reeked of stale cigarette smoke. Kerney forced down a gag reflex. At six feet one inch, he loomed over the man. He stepped back in an attempt to get away from Cordova's rankness.

"How about I buy you a pack of smokes and a meal?" he countered, nodding in the direction of the hotel.

"I said I want to go to jail," Cordova said crankily, craning his neck to look at Kerney. "I'm a fucking mental patient. You're supposed to take me to jail."

"Maybe later, if you cooperate."

Cordova stared in disgust at Kerney.

Behind the dirt, the beard, the unruly hair, and the chipped stained teeth, Cordova's eyes looked clear.

"How come you limp?" Cordova asked.

"I got shot," Kerney answered, thinking back to the incident that had ended his career as chief of detectives with the Santa Fe PD. An old friend and fellow officer had failed to back him up on a stakeout. The end result was one dead drug dealer, permanent damage to Kerney's right knee, and a partially destroyed gut.

"Were you a cop when it happened?"

"Yeah, I was."

Cordova threw a couple of jabs in the air at an imaginary opponent. "I'd never let that happen to me. I'd fuck somebody up if they tried that shit."

"I bet you would," Kerney replied. "Do you want that meal and pack of smokes?" He inclined his head toward the hotel.

"What do you want?" Cordova asked.

"Just to talk."

"They won't let me in there."

"They will if you're with me."

Cordova grunted and looked Kerney up and down. Kerney's jacket was open, and Robert didn't see a gun. "What kind of cop are you, anyway? You're not even wearing apistola."

"Do you think I need it?"

"Of course you do."

Kerney nodded, stepped to the car, unlocked it, got his holstered sidearm, and strapped it on his belt. "Better?"

"Yeah. Now maybe they'll let me in the restaurant. Can I order anything I want?"

"Anything. I'm buying."

Robert held up two fingers, both stained nicotine yellow. "Two packs of smokes."

"Name your brand," Kerney replied as he walked Robert to the hotel entrance.

It was mid-morning and the hotel dining room was empty except for a young, round waitress who sat reading the newspaper at the lunch counter along the back wall. Kerney got Cordova settled at a table by the window that gave a view across the street of an empty single-story building and vacant lot.

"What about my cigarettes?" he asked, as he grabbed a menu, crossed his legs, and started wiggling his foot. The loose, filthy sneaker slapped against his heel with a dull smacking sound.

"After we eat," Kerney replied.

Robert grunted in dissatisfaction.

Kerney waited for the waitress to notice them. The ceiling was another folk art masterpiece by Pop Shaffer. Dark wooden beams and handmade chandeliers were painted with an intricate tapestry of Native American symbols and mythical figures, some of which looked like they came strictly from Pop Shaffer's imagination. Kerney's gaze jumped from image to image; it was almost too much to take in at one sitting.

Tired of waiting, Kerney cleared his throat. The waitress turned, glanced at Robert, nodded to Kerney, slipped off the lunch counter seat, and walked through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

"She's calling the cops," Robert predicted.

"Why would she do that?"

"Because the last time I was in here, I threw an ashtray at her."

"Did you hit her?"

"Nope, she ducked. Aren't you going to ask me why I did it?" His foot wiggle accelerated a bit.

"Do you want to tell me?"

Cordova smiled wickedly. "Nope."

The waitress reappeared and walked to the table. She stood as far away from Cordova as she could, using Kerney as a shield.

"I can't serve you," she said to Kerney.

"Yes, you can." He held out his open badge case. "This is police business."

"I know who you are," the woman said, looking over the top of her eyeglasses. Her watery brown eyes blinked rapidly. She had stringy brown hair pinned back in a bun, most of which had unraveled against her neck. Her testy expression made her double chin more noticeable.

"I still can't serve you."

Kerney smiled pleasantly. "Tell your boss if we don't get served, I'll have every state health-and-safety inspector I can think of down here tomorrow morning, crawling all over the place looking for violations."

Cordova grinned in delight as the woman turned and walked stiffly back to the kitchen.

"That was bad," he said to Kerney. "You put her down, man. I never had a cop do anything like that for me before. They usually treat me like shit."

"No sweat, Robert. What do you want to eat?"

The waitress returned and grudgingly took Robert's order of two cheeseburgers, a double order of french fries, and coffee.

Robert didn't talk while he waited for his meal to arrive. His gaze stayed locked on the pass-through window from the kitchen. He licked his lips and tapped a finger anxiously on the table. Kerney wondered when Robert had last eaten.

When the food came, Robert wolfed down the meal, hamburger juice dribbling into his beard. His foot didn't wiggle when he ate.

Finished, Robert picked at his broken teeth with a long fingernail, belched, and smiled. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome."

Robert rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. "Now I need a smoke."

"In a minute. I need to ask you a few questions."

"What about?"

"How well did you know Paul Gillespie?"

"He was a motherfucker. I'm glad he's dead."

"Why do you say that?"

Robert's brown eyes turned angry. "I went to high school with him. He was always hassling me. Pushing me around, picking fights, teasing me -- stuff like that. It got worse when he became a cop."

"How did it get worse?"

Robert started to respond, glanced out the window, and clamped his mouth shut. Neil Ordway was walking toward the hotel entrance.

"How did Gillespie mistreat you?"

"He didn't do nothing," Cordova said, sneering in the direction of Ordway as the cop entered the dining room.

A middle-aged man with a square face, thinning blond hair, and a pinched nose, Ordway stood over the table and looked at Kerney and Robert. He grinned without showing his teeth. It made his cheeks puff out.

"What can I do for you, Chief?" Kerney asked.

"I came for Cordova. Seems he's run away from the Las Vegas funny farm again."

"Fuck you," Robert said, his eyes hooded. "I'm not going back there. I'm never going back there."

"Don't make this hard on yourself, Cordova," Ordway said, wrinkling his nose. "Jesus, you smell like shit."

"I'll take care of the situation with Cordova," Kerney interjected before Robert could reply.

Ordway pulled out a chair and sat. "Are you going to drive him back to Las Vegas?"

"I said I'll take care of it," Kerney repeated, holding Ordway's gaze. Ordway didn't flinch.

Robert leaned across the table, cleared his throat, and spat in Ordway's face.

Ordway blinked, rubbed a sleeve across his face, and grabbed a fistful of Robert's shirt. "You're going to jail for that, shithead."

Robert grinned and nodded in agreement.

Kerney clamped down on Ordway's arm. "Let him go," he ordered.

Ordway locked his gaze on Kerney. "Whatever you say," he said with a grin, releasing Cordova.

Free of Ordway's grip, Robert tipped over his chair and scampered out the door.

Ordway laughed as Robert disappeared from sight. "Well, it seems like he's run away. Isn't that a damn shame."

"Maybe you can tell me where to look," Kerney said calmly.

"Your guess is as good as mine. But if you think Cordova can help you, you're way off base."

"I'd still like to talk to him."

"He'll turn up again. He always does."

Kerney changed his tack. "I know you gave Gillespie excellent performance reviews, but did you ever have to discipline him for failure to perform his duties?"

"No."

"He was never late for work? He never had to be corrected about policies and procedures?"

"Sure, occasionally. It wasn't a big enough deal to require any official action."

"There was no evidence of conduct unbecoming an officer? No citizen complaints lodged against him?"

"No."

"Did Gillespie show signs of having a drinking problem? Was he closemouthed about what he did on his free time? Did he have a pattern of calling in sick after his days off?"

"I never saw him under the influence, either on duty or off."

"Did he have money problems?"

"You've seen his financial records. He lived within his means." Ordway shook his head and stood up. "You know what? I think this case has got you stumped, and you're looking for a way to save face. Questioning Paul's character isn't going to get you spit or make you any friends in this town."

Kerney got to his feet. "It sounds like Gillespie was a perfect cop."

"He did his job."

"I've heard that the town council isn't very happy with your performance."

"The hometown hero, who took their high school football team to the state finals way back when, was murdered. They think I should have made an arrest the day he got shot. They don't give a tinker's damn about the lack of a suspect."

"That puts you under a lot of pressure, I bet."

"Not anymore. I've resigned. I'm out of here at the end of the week." He turned on his heel to leave.

"Chief Ordway," Kerney called out.

Ordway stopped at the door and looked back at Kerney. "What?"

The waitress stood anchored behind the counter at the far end of the dining room, tilted slightly forward, intent on every word.

"If you find Robert Cordova, don't mess with him. Tell me where he is and I'll pick him up."

"Sure thing, hotshot."

Kerney watched him leave, thinking Ordway had been a cop long enough to know that without a suspect, the victim became the prime focus of attention. But politics in small towns were played based on blood ties, and Ordway was the outsider, imported because Gillespie hadn't met the state training and experience qualifications for the chief's position. What if Gillespie had been a bad apple and Ordway had turned a blind eye to it, not wanting to fire the hometown ex-hero of the high school gridiron? It would be really stupid to admit that he let an unethical or crooked officer remain on the job in order to keep the town council placated. Such an admission would end Ordway's career in law enforcement.

From what Kerney had seen of Ordway during the past four weeks, he would be no great loss to the profession.

He dropped some bills on the table to cover Robert's meal and the tip, and smiled at the waitress. She lowered her gaze and got busy wiping down the immaculate countertop.

A railroad town established in the early part of the century, Mountainair sat among the foothills to the Manzano Mountains. A state highway dissected Main Street, curved in front of the local elementary school, and continued past a gas station, motel, and some abandoned commercial buildings before making a straight run west toward the mountains. Main Street, a two-block-long strip with some retail stores, a post office, and a National Park Service building, boasted no trees, no traffic lights, and no pedestrians. Some of the buildings were vacant, and barren display shelves behind plate-glass windows created a rhythm of continual decline.

Kerney drove the strip several times looking for Robert, who was nowhere to be found. He stopped next to the post office and spotted Neil Ordway's police car parked in front of the town hall and police station.

The police station, which housed the police dispatch office and the magistrate court, had a concrete front with a thunderbird design perched above an ornamental pillar that separated two entry doors. Ordway's office took up the second floor of the adjacent town hall.

Kerney wondered if Ordway had snagged Robert in spite of his warning to leave the man alone. He switched his police radio to Ordway's frequency. If Robert was in custody, Kerney would know it when Ordway left to take him back to Las Vegas. He would keep looking until then.

Mountainair had no distinct neighborhoods to speak of, except for a string of middle-class, ranch-style houses and a few restored Victorian cottages near the high school. Even there, scattered between neat yards and tidy homes, an occasional empty lot with an old foundation or a sagging, weather-beaten house open to the elements broke any impression of a well-defined neighborhood.

Kerney did a slow patrol and checked each empty house before heading across the main drag, where the pavement quickly turned to dirt, and a string of houses, several churches, some shacks, sheds, and uninhabited cabins sputtered to a stop at a fence to an unused pasture.

Kerney kept looking, found nothing, returned to the main drag, and stopped at the grocery store to buy two packs of cigarettes. Ordway's cruiser was still parked outside city hall when he came out. He headed east on the state highway in the hope that Robert might be hitchhiking out of town. He drove to the Estancia cutoff before giving up and turning around to scout the road west of town. He shut down the hunt near the Abo Ruins National Monument and made his way back to the village.

He topped out at the hill on the outskirts of Mountainair just as a small herd of pinto horses swooped up a shallow arroyo and trotted along the highway fence. It was a pretty sight, and Kerney slowed to watch until the horses disappeared into a draw.

Mountainair had faded with the demise of dry land farming and the decline of railroad traffic. But its beautiful setting pulled tourists in and kept the place alive. It was a gateway to the wilderness that spread over the southern end of the Manzano Mountains, which were brushed at the summits with the first dusting of snow.

To the south a heavily forested mesa sheared off half of the horizon, and thick, slow-moving clouds in the blue-gray November sky rolled toward the village. Kerney had been taught by his ranching father to read the weather, and the day promised moisture sometime soon.

Mountainair was not completely unfamiliar to Kerney. After finishing a brief stint as the interim sheriff of Catron County in the southwest part of the state, Kerney had looked at a section of land for sale in the high country outside Mountainair. It was summer grazing pasture infested with cocklebur, hound's-tongue, and prickly pear cactus -- sure signs of overgrazing. It would take years to bring it back, and Kerney needed land that he could put to use immediately to produce income and make the mortgage payments, if he was ever going to get back into ranching.

With only enough money for a modest down payment, everything else he'd looked at was either way out of his price range or too small in size for raising cattle.

Kerney's parents had lost their ranch in the Tularosa Basin when White Sands Missile Range, a top-secret testing facility in the heart of south-central New Mexico, had expanded. The day they moved, military policemen and federal agents escorted the family off the spread to the Rocking J Ranch, where Kerney's father had taken a job as foreman.

That was the day Kerney's dream of owning a ranch was born. He had kept his hopes alive for almost forty years. While living on the Rocking J, during his college years, in Vietnam as a platoon leader near the end of the war, and throughout his career in law enforcement, Kerney had never let go of the dream.

He wondered if he would ever be able to achieve it. It didn't look promising.

He pulled up in front of Pop Shaffer's hotel to find Ordway using a side-handle baton in a wrist lock on Robert to force him toward the squad car. The waitress watched the action through the plate-glass window of the dining room.

"Let him go," Kerney ordered, slamming his car door to get Ordway's attention.

"Butt out, Kerney," Ordway said. "This is my business."

Kerney quickly closed the distance to Ordway.

"Move, Cordova," Ordway commanded. He applied more force to the hold. Robert gasped in pain and lurched toward the police car.

"I said, let him go," Kerney repeated, grabbing Ordway's shoulder.

"Sure thing, hotshot," Ordway said as he pulled free, released Robert, and swung at Kerney with the baton.

Kerney kicked Ordway in the nuts. He dropped the baton, fell to his knees, and grabbed his groin.

After disarming Ordway, Kerney looked for Robert, who stood next to him, bouncing on his toes in delight.

"Kick him again," Robert said, as he threw uppercuts into the air.

"Wait for me by the fence."

"Fuck you," Robert replied, still punching the air. "You lied to me."

"What?"

"You promised me some smokes, man."

"They're in my car, on the passenger seat. Go get them. Then wait by the fence."

"Okay" Robert grumbled, moving away.

Kerney moved behind Ordway, stood him up, put the baton against his throat, and applied some pressure. "You're not a man who takes advice easily," he said.

"Fuck you," Ordway gurgled.

"I could file charges against you," Kerney said. "Unlawful arrest. Use of excessive force. Do you want that kind of grief?"

Ordway thought about it and shook his head.

"I didn't think so." Kerney released the pressure, pushed Ordway out of kicking distance, and circled around to look the man in the eyes. "Take my advice, Ordway. Find a civilian job. I don't think you're cut out to be a cop."

Ordway's expression turned ugly when Kerney locked his handgun, baton, and car keys inside the police cruiser.

"That should slow you down," Kerney said to Ordway. "Get in my car, Robert."

"Why?"

"I thought you wanted to go to jail."

Robert beamed. "Can I smoke in your car?"

"No, but I'll stop along the way so you can have a cigarette or two."

"That sucks."

"Humor me," Kerney replied.

Kerney let Robert sit up front wearing no cuffs. He fought off Cordova's bad smell by running the air conditioner with the window cracked, even though the cloudy late afternoon had dropped the temperature into the low forties.

"You're supposed to cuff me and lock me in the back. I'm an escaped mental patient."

"You don't like sitting up front?" Kerney asked.

"Yeah, I do. I need a cigarette."

They had just passed the Mountainair town limit sign. Kerney pulled off the road next to a cottonwood tree and got out with Robert, who quickly lit up. The cloud cover broke, and for a moment the high mesa south of the village shimmered in pale yellow sunlight.

"You were in town the night Paul Gillespie was killed," Kerney said.

Robert exhaled. "Who?"

"Paul Gillespie, the police officer."

Robert tugged at his beard. "I don't know him."

"You went to high school with him."

Robert shrugged indifferently and looked away. "I don't remember."

"Did you see Gillespie get killed?"

"I've never seen anybody get killed. But I'd like to. That would be neat."

"Do you know who killed him?"

The wind picked up and Robert started to shiver. "I'm cold," he whined, grinding out his cigarette with his sneaker. "Am I going to jail or not?"

"You're going. Get in," Kerney answered, gesturing at the car.

Kerney drove for a time without talking, keeping one eye on Robert, whose foot beat a steady tattoo on the floorboard. Kerney wondered if the habit signaled anxiety. He decided to test the theory.

"Did you see Gillespie the night he was killed?"

Robert's foot started bouncing off the floorboard. "I saw Satan."

"What was Satan doing?"

Robert's foot jiggled wildly. "Raping my daughter."

"Where did it happen?"

"Serpent Gate."

Kerney remembered the peculiar stone snake on Pop Shaffer's fence. "Do you mean by the fence next to the hotel?"

"Yeah." Robert changed his mind. "No, not there."

"Where?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," Kerney said gently. "Tell me about your daughter." As far as he knew, Robert was childless.

"She's in heaven with Jesus," Robert replied flatly, as he gripped the back of his skull with his fingers and stuck his thumbs in his ears.

"Is that where Satan rapes her?" Kerney asked loudly, trying to get through to Robert.

Robert grunted and shut his eyes. The conversation was over.

When Kerney pulled into the sally port at the Torrance County jail, Cordova removed his thumbs from his ears, popped out of the car, and waited at the door to the booking alcove while Kerney locked his handgun in a weapon box.

"Hurry up," Robert barked, snapping his fingers.

Kerney pressed the button to the booking alcove, and the electronic door latch snapped open. Inside, Robert immediately relaxed. He smiled at the female guard behind the glassed-in booking counter and began emptying his pockets.

The guard, a sturdy-looking woman with broad shoulders and a close-cropped haircut, welcomed Robert back with a greeting and a grin.

"What's the charge?" the guard asked, eyeing Kerney skeptically.

"Protective custody," Kerney answered. "Twenty-four-hour hold."

She nodded knowingly and pushed a form through the slot at the bottom of the glass. "Fill this out. Has he had anything to eat?"

"Lunch," Kerney replied, as he completed the paperwork. "But he's probably hungry again."

"Did you search him?"

"Pat down only."

The woman nodded.

Robert tapped Kerney on the shoulder. "I left my cigarettes in your car."

"I'll get them for you." Kerney took a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and pushed it through the slot along with the booking form. "Put the ten bucks in his canteen account. He may need a few things while he's here."

The woman smiled at him as he left to get Robert's smokes. When he returned, Robert was inside the secure area sitting calmly in a chair. Kerney passed the cigarettes through to the guard.

"Are you taking him back to Las Vegas?" she asked.

"He doesn't seem to want to go."

"Then why are you holding him?"

"He may be a witness to a crime. I'm hoping he'll talk to me. So far, I haven't gotten very much out of him."

The woman nodded. "Give him the night to settle in. Robert does real well here. He likes the structure. We'll clean him up, give him a meal or two, and he'll be a new man by morning."

"I hope you're right," Kerney said.

"He just told me you were his friend," the guard said. "I've never heard him say that about a police officer before. You might get lucky."

"I could use some luck."

Robert waved gaily at Kerney as the guard buzzed him out the door to the sally port.

Sixty miles east of Mountainair, Kerney waited in the gathering night outside the old Vaughn train station for the arrival of a westbound freight out of Amarillo. On it, he hoped, was Floyd Wilson, a crew chief for the Southern Pacific, who had left Mountainair the morning after the Gillespie shooting. Wilson had been transferred off a track-replacement job west of Mountainair and reassigned to a spur-line construction project in Texas.

As far as Kerney knew, Wilson had never been interviewed during the initial investigation.

Parked next to the dark station house, Kerney sat in the car with the engine running, the heater on, and the window rolled down. Robert's odor still permeated the vehicle.

At the end of a siding, barely visible in the gloom, a warning sign where the tracks ended read DERAIL. It neatly summarized Kerney's sense of futility about the case.

An occasional car rolled down the highway that paralleled the train tracks, rubber singing on the pavement. But the dominant sound came from the wind that cut across the Staked Plains, a vast, high desert plateau that encompassed thousands of square miles of eastern New Mexico.

The wind drove a light rain against Kerney's cheek, and he turned on the car wipers so he could see down the line. The flash of light from the lead locomotive showed long before the sound of the engine reached Kerney's ears. If the train blew through town without stopping, it meant Kerney would have to make the long drive to Amarillo sometime soon. On the phone, Wilson had told him he knew nothing about the case, and didn't want to lose time away from his job. Kerney had called Wilson's boss, who agreed to let Wilson make the trip to meet with Kerney on company time. He hoped Wilson was on the train.

The train stopped and a man of average height, carrying an overnight bag, climbed out of the locomotive and walked wearily toward the car. Kerney got out to greet him.

Floyd Wilson offered Kerney his hand with little enthusiasm. A man pushing sixty, Wilson had a full head of gray hair, a deeply lined face, thick, droopy eyebrows, and a condition on his neck that bleached out the pigment of his skin.

"I don't see how I can help you, Mr. Kerney."

"I'm glad you're willing to try, Mr. Wilson. Thanks for coming."

"No sweat," Floyd said.

"Let me buy you dinner."

"In this town that means the cholesterol plate."

At the only open diner in town, a cheerless establishment with Formica tables, tattered chairs, a cracked linoleum floor, and faded posters tacked on the walls, Kerney and Floyd Wilson sat by a window streaked with smoke and grease. Outside, the wind had diminished and fat snowflakes drifted against the glass, melting instantly.

"I was at the Shaffer Hotel the night that policeman got shot," Floyd said. "Me and my crew were in the game room on the second floor, drinking beer and playing pool."

"You didn't go out?" Kerney asked.

"Nope. I had a late dinner in the dining room and turned in early. I didn't even hear about the shooting until the next day, just before I left."

"Did you know Gillespie, or have any dealings with him?"

Floyd scratched his head. "Not really. I knew who he was, but that was about it. I didn't spend much time in town. Replacing track and ties on a main line is a sunup-to-sundown job."

"Did you ever see him act inappropriately?"

"You mean tough-guy stuff?"

"Yes."

"Not personally, but some of my crew said he acted like a badass when we first got to town. He sett....

Excerpted from Serpent Gate by Michael McGarrity
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

Local murals: Ancient Cities

2010-04-29T01:29:00.000-07:00

What with MMAC's ongoing Mosaic Mural Project, installation of the Sr Center mosaic (apparently with name change from quilt to glyph), dedication next week, installation scheduled for mosaic at B Street Market and plans afoot to start work on a mosaic for the library, murals and muraling are in the air. Why not blog a series on local murals? Just the ticket for local pic + short take template.

Mural at Ancient Cities, photo David McLane from his Salon blog post, "Across the New Mexico Outback." I don't recall the name of the local muralist, on Limit near Beal intersection, and would rather not guess - better a gap than an error. Someone send me a name and due credit will be forthcoming. She is also available for commissions if you fancy adding a mural to a naked wall inside or out.

Other public art by the same artist includes the Laundrymat mural and now defunct sunflower photographer's cutout panel. The same artist also worked on the train mural, in particular the painted in Hair Enchantment representation, and, based on style, most likely the Chuckwagon mural (closed now, so no longer available for view).

zoom shot of the mural and a formula

2010-04-20T00:29:00.000-07:00

photo by Dan Matthews, H-D Gazette

Blogging formula: a hundred words and a picture is the formula that brings in the most readers. Sad, but no doubt true. I'm not doing well at achieving that goal and not likely to either. That's no more than a TwitPic tweet + shortened link. A sad notion indeed for a literature and literacy person to contemplate

This is still my favorite Mountainair mural ~ leads my personal 2000-2009 decade top ten list and the decade's best local art event / project. This particular picture appeared recently in Dan Matthews' blog post mostly about Alpine Alley (another public mural site) - he took good pictures there too. This is either the best or the only picture I have of the full mural in one shot.

Depot, Trains and Timetables

2010-04-14T15:17:00.000-07:00

Mountainair_22-4-21
Originally uploaded by dominicmorrone

Pinch me so I'll remember: picture plus 1-2 mercifully brief paragraphs, preferably relevant to Mountainair Online (the website) ~ but nothing in the ether, by definition, is written in stone. Pinches will have to be virtual ~ now there's an app whose time has come. Facebook has pokes; another social media entity has nudges. Time for pinches. Or - low tech solution- just post a comment with the word "pinch" in it. The news about the static (Web 1.0) website? There is none. I should make a realistically modest resolution and set myself reminders (except that I would just ignore them).

There is, however, Dennis' Mountainair Community Calendar newly imported to a Google Calendar. Brief listings cover just Mountainair, the calendar supplements not displaces Mountainair Announcements. The streamlined format improves odds (KISS) for regular maintenance. This calendar is already on Town of Mountainair and Mountainair NM Net, eventually destined for the Chamber of Commerce page, and may soon be embedded on Mountainair Online along with a widget for Announcements, thus qualifying this paragraph as aforementioned "website news." Before long, we'll need a score card to keep track of sites named Mountainair. Adding to the confusion: a NetVibes aggregator page named Online in Mountainair and Mountainair Online among the multiple Mountainair Facebook pages

Bird's eye view of Mountainair

2010-04-12T23:47:00.000-07:00

Caption on image reads "Birds eye view of Mt air." A postmark is barely visible on the image and may read either "1911" or "1917". Image shows a cityscape of a town, with a multi-story white building rising above the rest of the buildings. Two wagons are visible on what appears to be a platform in the foreground. Archived at the New Mexico State University Library, digitized version published online.

That was then, this is now. Reflections on EVEDA and the marketing power of myth lead me back to this image and a handful of articles about the urban to rural trend in contemporary re-settlement of the rural west, even to the urban studies work of Mike Davis, exurbs and such. I have more posts with links, posted before catching the tagging habit, but can't find them now. I'll keep looking.

Mountainair Cowboy

2010-03-29T20:29:00.001-07:00

Cowboy
Originally uploaded by istorija

In honor of the arts council bringing cowboy yodeling to Mountainair during National Poetry Month (but possibly short shrifting the Poets and Writers Picnic despite a longer association with Sunflower than the arts council's.

Makes no never mind. Poetry Matters: PWP will picnic and poet on: as Picnic and Sunflower blogger & general webist, I will blog on as well, generating more Sunflower copy, links and images than any other source.

Mountainair Community Park

2010-03-19T21:11:00.000-07:00

Localed on Cedar, Mountainair's northernmost street, running from open fields on the east side to and crossing NM 55 on the west, our Community Park has a covered pavilion with concession area and tables, tennis courts, basketball court, and playground. The Firecracker Jubilee used to be held there before its recent move the "Mountainair Activity Complex" ~ still more often called campgrounds (after first incarnation as the church camp everyone grew up with) by some and The White Elephant by others.

The park, still serviceable and holding a place in local memory, has been neglected and is in need of ongoing maintenance and upgrading, "remodeling" as I've read in articles about parks and playgrounds. Fortunately for Mountainair and the park, help is on the way. Newly elected town councilman Jeremy LaJeunesse, along with Dennis Fulfer and Lenora Romero, will be coordinating the park project - canvassing the community for input, drawing up plans, looking for funding. Canvassing is taking place on Jeremy's Facebook profile. I'll be adding a Wall for you to write your ideas on and posting links and embedding the wall every place on line that I can.

Ideas so far include: skateboard park, tagging wall, bringing tennis and basketball courts back into to use, expanding the playground, canopy covered areas with tables and benches, BBQ stations, a stage for performances, and more.

Add your 2¢ worth...

sunrise over snow

2010-03-18T01:34:00.001-07:00

This gorgeous photo by John Weckele is not a Mountainair picture, not even an "East" Mountains or Manzanos picture. It's of Southern Santa Fe County but sure catches the feel of Sunday's snowstorm as does the title, "El niño rides again..." That's enough to qualify.

When I get around to spring blogkeeping ~ redecorating, Blogger's new feed tool (or something similar in a widget) for local and NM news tops the list... John's New Mexico Central blog will definitely be on it as will the New Mexico Independent. I'm still pondering other choices. Until then, bookmark / subscribe to NM Central for yourself.

I'm ready for spring. Aren't you? Spring housecleaning for town council too. iCreate's Community garden got going, mosaic murals to be installed "sometime this spring," new animal shelter, annual Splingo (spring fling blah blah cleanup and bingo = Splingo), arts council community projects, some perennials (Sunflower Festival, Poets & Writers Picnic) and others as yet undetermined .

Cottonwoods, Clouds, and Cholla

2010-03-15T20:33:00.001-07:00

Cottonwoods, Clouds, and Cholla
Originally uploaded by cdhall

Before the snows.

Housebound with flu, I missed the Halls again. Next time then. Until then, Chris' pictures. This one is near the Quarai ruins; not far from where the Halls are building.

Tomorrow: first Mountainair town council of new regime. Hopefully. silliness and rumor will be sent packing, along with the the SP issuing tickets hand over fist to fill quotas. Who called them anyway? Speculations and plausible rumors abound but nothing solid. We're treating it like the joke it is.

Mountainair Sunset (minus the snow)

2010-03-14T20:10:00.001-07:00

This particular Mountainair blog was supposed to be easy: image plus modicum of text, either explaining image, companion web site (Mountainair Online, the page), local news or some such. Oops... apparently not as easy as I thought. I fell off the blogwagon, so I'll just climb back on and start over again.

The message behind the picture (no, there does not have to be one but why not): the image may not be the same as reality.Corollary: the myth never is.

Short takes: new mayor; a shot of fresh - and young - blood on the town council; chamber marketing campaign getting traction; community garden; hints of a local farmers market, spring coming (perhaps the best news of all)

Change is likely, even inevitable: not all will be welcomed by everyone. It is to be hoped grown-ups will outnumber delusionals. Deal with it and get on with getting it together / getting along for... well, I shouldn't have to tell you it's for the community, greater good and all that, You can figure that out for yourself, can't you?

Taken on a ranch near Mountainair, photo courtesy KOAT, Channel 7, also known as the station most likely to trash Mountainair on the nightly news. No wonder the photographer chose anonymity

2010 Municipal Election Results

2010-03-03T18:42:00.001-08:00

via mvtelegraph.com
Results courtesy of the Mountain View Telegraph, sweet, even if I looked for them last night. http://www.mvtelegraph.com/index.php/news/2665-municipal-election-results.html. See article remaining area election results.
Electioneering is over ~ time for candidates and voters to move on and work together to achieve all the worthy goals brought forth during the campaign.
We should continue to remind them, don't you think? Transparency in government, infrastructure upgrade, increased efficiency in delivering public services, training, community programs and events, youth, promoting locally owned small businesses, sustainability, tourism, recycling, green energy,

Posted via web from Meanderings

a personal network (web) on this domain (on the web) or web squared

2010-02-22T17:58:00.000-08:00

More about plans for Mountainair Online (the page), so much more than a static web page or a blog. This post or rather the operating ideas / organizing metaphors driving page redesign started as a post for my Open Salon blog (yes, I have one there too) that I reposted on Multiteracies, home platform for the ideas and tools that jump started stalled page redesign. Today I wrote a much shorter winded section for the About page (yet to be uploaded). This post is a (yet another) revision of that section.

This planned network of pages hosted on the Mountainair Online domain is a work in progress that includes (so far) or will include:

Mountainair 87036, linked pages for local community information, images, local links,calendar, events, a portal page to community blogs and area media;
Professional pages, covering areas past and present. It could include work history and workplace narratives spanning from early work in tourism (overseas and in NYC) breeding farm management; technical writing, oil field engineering and construction support, teaching, web work, writing;
Teaching, however, should be separate node
Education history, research and projects not covered under profession: interests; learning pages; research (this may be the place to publish my dissertation).
Personal pages, blog and networks

Mountainair Online (domain and page not the blog) will be the portal for the network hosting sub-domains community (local), personal (chez Vanessa), teaching (learning resources and class pages and class blogs), project and activism pages. Blogs are genre, social media tool and web page collection - as such I tentatively plan to collect them on annotated blogrolls as well as featuring them on the appropriate nodes, cross linking as appropriate. Other Web 2.0 social network sites and interactive apps will supplement and update static web pages for reader / visitor engagement.

Nodes being what they are, there will be intersections, overlaps and Umschlagplältze: for example, Poets & Writers Picnic is local (blogs a local event), personal (reading poetry is very personal), professional (I "professed" literature professionally), educational (in addition to educational content on the blog, my dissertation gives significant space to poetic representation of cityspace), and a project (designing, researching, writing and publishing an online poetry 'zine in blog format).

The first interactive element: a message wall embedded on either the index page or the about page, with widgetry thereafter.

Mountainair 2010 Elections: another wall

2010-02-21T03:42:00.000-08:00

Another Wall, another election topic: Youth (hopefully less contentious than the last wall topic) http://wallwisher.com/wall/Mtr-Youth2010

Post your opinions or ask a question about this Mountainair's 2010 election topic. Post anonymously or sign your name. The only rule is to play nice ~ no trash talk or bad language.

You've just been BROADSIDED

2010-02-19T22:41:00.000-08:00

You've just been BROADSIDED by poetry & art: pass it on. By the way, P& W (the magazine not the Picnic) interviewed me by email for an article on Broadsiding.

Broadsided by Poetry

2010-02-19T04:16:00.000-08:00

Dear Mountainair,
You've just been Broadsided for February. Remember: poetry matters. Yours truly, (signed) PWP, your Mountainair Poetry Broadsiding Vector

PS The Broadsided Project will be featured in Poets & Writers | from Inspiration to Publication, a national poetry magazine. Your Mountainair Vector is being interviewed for the article. Just think: poetry in the news and Mountainair mentioned in a national magazine!

Broadsided February 2010: "Replacing the Window, Downtown Medford"

Posted: (click for larger version)

from "Replacing the Window, Downtown Medford" ~ Poem by Amy MacLennan; art by Lochlann Jain

Two men heft a long glass sheet
with suction cup grips. Slight strain,
one of them knee to the wall.....

The Collaborators:
Writer Amy MacLennan has been published or has work forthcoming in Hayden's Ferry Review, River Styx, Pearl, Linebreak, Cimarron Review, New Plains Review, Folio, and Rattle. Her poems appear in the anthologies Eating Her Wedding Dress: A Collection of Clothing Poems from Ragged Sky Press and Not a Muse: The Inner Lives of Women from Haven Books.

Artist Lochlann Jain is a professional anthropologist. She lives in San Francisco.

Collaborators' Q&A:
I recently spent a week in Udaipur, India, and spent a lot of time in artists' workshops...I spent time drawing with them and talking to them. Even though the art is for tourists, and mostly reproduces illustrations stroke-for-stroke, some of the work is very fine and beautiful...

Read more of what Amy and Lochlann had to say about their Broadsided experience. Visit www.broadsidedpress.org to get the full broadside.

Be a Vector: print out the art + poetry broadside; post it somewhere public; take a picture to email to broadsided@gmail.com.

Wanted: Submissions for the 7th Switcheroo

Writers: We've posted a piece of art titled "Turn" by Julie Evanoff on our site, and we'd like to see what it evokes for you, in a literary sense. The usual Broadsided guidelines for submissions apply. Your response need not be literal--you may take off in any tangent the work suggests. However, the art and writing must, together, work to create a greater piece. The editors will choose a piece of writing from the submissions to be Broadsided April 1, 2010.

Deadline for submissions: March 5, 2010. More about the Switcheroo.

February's Vector Photo:
Nails, caulking, paint, and Broadsided -- a hardware-store fanatic and Vector sent us this image of a collaboration between poet Aaron Plasek and artist Kate Baird Broadsided in October, 2008. Have a photo to share? We'd love to see -- email it to us at broadsided@gmail.com. Nothing fancy required. We'll put it on the Vector Wall: (Gallery of Vectorhood)

ruins under snow

2010-02-18T20:02:00.001-08:00

IMG_7741.jpg
Originally uploaded by imhavoc

Finally, an appropriately winter picture ~ despite the temptation match north on NM55 with a south on NM55. We still have snow on the ground here but less than last week with more less and less likely.

Town Council and Mayoral elections approach: next week and after: meet & greets, debates, handing out & pinning up fliers, rumors, visiting voters door to door. Come March the town votes, for better or for worse. Life goes on and winter utilities bills down as we wait for signs of spring. Bring on the gardeners, town clean up and, of course, bingo.

North to Manzanos from Mountainair

2010-02-17T19:25:00.000-08:00

Road from Mountainair, NM
Originally uploaded by iveytrails

Going away, perhaps an odd choice of picture to accompany a few lines on what's coming, It's not green out there now either, but I've always liked this view.

What's coming: town elections in March, candidate meet and greet hosted by the Volunteer Fire Department next week, plans for spring and summer events already in the works. Hello Spring Fling, Jubilee, Annual Car Show & other events/activities put on by Salinas Pueblo Missions (NPS) calendar, Sunflower Festival, Poets & Writers Picnic and more...

What is going away: snow on the ground, mud when it melts, winter, higher heating bills.

Perhaps next but surely another time: the ongoing and recurring. We have those too. By then maybe I'll have something new about the mother ship, Mountainair Online

Happy Valentines Day

2010-02-14T01:25:00.000-08:00

Winter in Mountainair

2010-02-09T17:42:00.001-08:00

Winter
Originally uploaded by VanessaVaile

Images and photo-editing are by Robin des Jardins. Although dated December 31, 2006, this winter montage represents current view out my window and around about Mountainair, supposedly with more on the way.

I'm spending my time hunkered down inside, complete with wool slipper socks, shawl over layers, knit cap and lap robe. Wearing a shawl makes me feel positively Victorian. Very effective but awkward around stove burners. I am amazed that Victorians did not regularly set fire to themselves.

Friday I'll venture out for a chamber committee meeting, so I should try for blogging Chamber Notes before then. If not, then not (to paraphrase the loyalty oath of 13th century Aragonese nobles. Their version loosely runs: If you do right by me and respect my rights and I'll be loyal to you; if not, then not.

Local News: Mayoral candidates speak at Chamber meeting

2010-02-01T17:00:00.000-08:00

Shaffer Hotel, photo by Bert Herrman, Casa Manzano

Due to a scheduling conflict, the monthly Mountainair Chamber of Commerce luncheon meeting, 11:30 am, Tue, Feb 2, has been moved to the Shaffer Hotel conference room. Order lunch off the menu, à la carte or the Daily Special.

Chamber meeting are open to the public. This meeting features Town of Mountainair mayoral candidates, Chester Riley, Dennis Fulfer, Velta Gilley and Ed vonKutzleben. Each candidate will speak an allotted 5 minutes on what their administration policies and plans for local business and economic development. There will be 10 minutes of audience Q&A limited to relevant business and economic development.

More meeting details

The Weaver Hotel, Mountainair

2010-01-30T21:21:00.001-08:00

Mountainair, NM
Originally uploaded by hannaneth

More supplement to the Mountainair Online website than full blown, freestanding, wordy blog like its cousins (Annnouncements, Arts, Picnic), Mountainair Online the blog needs a theme of its own so as not to feel like the proverbial red-headed stepchild. Images of Mountainair seems appropriate ~ and keep me from being tempted by gratuitous snark.

Page news/update/correction, a poll or a question + thread for comments, and then a picture + description. Sounds like a plan. Let me know what you think.

The Weaver Hotel on Broadway is next door to Uncle Walter's (yclept Walter long gone, leaving just the store and his name behind), both owned by Kenny and Delores Aguilar. Like the Shaffer, the Weaver is part of town history, its construction predating the Shaffer's.

Getting there...

2010-01-28T13:38:00.000-08:00

Tweaked Mountainair Online blog (this one) and put some time in today on Mountainair Online the page ~ matched background colors, added copy and links to both, a ToC to the sidebar blog. More gadgets to come but not just yet. The static page will take more work.

Shaffer Hotel Garden, at rest

This will be a low maintenance blog: short posts, picture or video clip + a few lines, reblogging, recycling old posts from Mountanainair Arts, putting Zemanta to work, etc.

Mostly it will be an extension of the static page for quickie updates and announcements of page changes and updates that will be synced to auto-post @VanessaVaile and on Facebook (personal profile and Mountainair Online page there, if I ever publish it)

Summer in Mountainair

2010-01-22T22:00:00.001-08:00

248/365
Originally uploaded by tamra hays

A reminder on this wet cold winter day that summer and blue skies will return.

Mountainair street view, bean elevators (no longer in use) and class Santa Fe train station in the distance, taken August 1, 2009, by sometime (when not in Istanbul) Mountainair resident, photographer, poet and travel writer Tamra Hays

Laughing Dove poems

Hays Travelogue

Mountainair Mural

2010-01-15T15:34:00.001-08:00

Mountainair Mural
Originally uploaded by nicholsphotos

It's been a while since Mountainair blogs or static sites have revisited the mural. Too long. The pics I've seen have all been taken to show the length of the mural, from engine at the corner of Ripley and Main to the Firehouse Restaurant at the end. This picture by Nichols Photos focuses on the engine (Wray's favorite part) as though it were bearing down on the photographer.

Shirley and Wray Simmon's labor of love and grand public art project, financed by the arts council and contributed to by many, remains my personal choice (and that of many visitors) for best local art event / project of the decade.

Is there a plan yet?

2009-12-29T17:25:00.000-08:00

A plane? No, it's not a plane, but it just might be on its way to being a plan. I snagged this to get the name in case I wanted a blog-as-adjunct to Mountainair Online, the static web page.

Dry stack wall, Mountainair NM

photo, Kristine Lauritsen, Stonehouse Gallery B&B

Now I'm thinking yes (more about why later or maybe not) but KISS still rules. Two purposes (so far at any rate):

news and speedy site updates that I can put on the static page later if still relevant.
pictures, especially using Flickr's "blog this" feature. There's a Mountainair images online gap ~ despite there now being so many more images online than when I started with Mountainair 87036
comment feature

OK, make that three, but considering how minimal commenting tends to be, it might as well still be just two.

Note to self: change font colors. Red and orange on tan? Yuck.Blechh...

I'm revising KISS to stand for Keep It Short [&] Simple... so time to go

random thoughts, cont'd

2009-11-15T10:46:00.000-08:00

Following up on first installment of "random thoughts"

Probably continuing Mountainair Online (the page) as is... why? Because it's already there. Entropy. Sleeping dogs. Less work than creating, developing new site along blog or wiki lines and, transferring domain name, publicizing and so on. Tiring just to think about it; even more tedious to do it.

Deer Canyon Vista

Thoughts so far:

Revive Mountainair as an information site with (better) calendar, community resources, more images and web 2.0 apps.
Take back Google ranking.
Content and good writing rule. I am better at both than any Team.
Go short on posts ~ big on images and links to video clips;
Re-animate killed off chamber pages: directories; events; community information; resources; announcements. Combine with Mountainair 87036 pages: links (annotated?); see and do; about Mountainair.
Rename site on title bar to improve SEO
Mountainair business directory pages - not limited to Chamber members
Go ultra web 2.0 with pages on social networks (or would that start falling into the tedious column?), widgets and feeds boosting content. Still want to play around with a wiki at some point.
Education/ learning section ... links to OCW, tutorials, resources for self-paced learning, activism, community development, technology, etc.

Testing the gadget

2009-08-10T06:46:00.001-07:00

The blogger gadget on my iGoogle home page lets me post to any of my blogs from there. Apparently the app is text only - no rtf or wysig html, but I can code formatting and links with html tags. Handy for short posts on the fly.

Hence testing: 1st a post w/ links, w/o html tags. If those do not show active, then, a coded post.

So many apps on this small screen. Next on hardware peripheral wish list - a larger (much larger) monitor, preferably with a flat screen

random thoughts

2009-07-21T09:20:00.000-07:00

Possibilities:

to migrate blog to mountainair-online.net domain name and use it as a portal site
to start a wiki as my portal site
not to have Mountainair in the name except in second billing, ie Mountainair Bloglady or the like.
google it out head to head with (sucky) chamber page
include Mountainair images & information pages because that sure looks like something the chamber site will be short on - along with good copy and inclusiveness... gotta be a member to get mentioned...
dedicate a blog (such as this one) to that function... use labels, tags, tag clouds to organize post links
other - as yet to be determined