Tuesday, April 25, 2017

SHAZAM!




THAT VELVETY VOICE!
************************

There I was 
     at a City of Albuquerque
              awards banquet
and wishing I was instead, off
     somewhere on a quiet 
lake fishing and sipping a Diet Pepsi!

Donna and her partners had won
     a big prestigious city-wide award
for excellence in teaching of the arts...

And guess who was there to emcee
     the presentations...

Yes! M. R. walked up to the microphone
     to name the winners from a dozen 
  categories and hand out the awards...

Oh, I had heard her 
     fantastically-marvelous-melodious 
          voice a thousand
 mornings on Classical Music FM 97.3---
       a low, sultry, never-to-be-forgotten....
beautiful sound!

So really...this was even better than  
     fishing!

On this night, she walked to the mike
     and began speaking...ah...she 
talked with an almost-Texas drawl...
     sorta like me...

As I listened, befuddled and crushed in 
   spirit, and wondering what had
happened, I heard her say:

"Maybe it'd be fitting if on this night,
    on this august occasion---that I speak
in my Radio FM voice!"

And as if she had said "SHAZAM," she 
    went into  this astoundingly low
soothing,  sexy, to-die-for-voice, filling
     the whole room with overtones...
   and amazement.

A few hundred male jaws dropped open...

I thought the microphone would melt...
     and I know my heart did.
--------------
By Mil
21 APRIL 17








EVERYTHING IS SOMEWHERE




They say
      "nothing
is ever lost---
    it is always
somewhere..."

"and long as it's 
       still
in the house, we'll
    find it," the old 
saw goes...

Now sit down for 
     this one---

I had a favorite 
          CROSS pen
    for years, 
       wrote black gel
ink...nice

Oh, and did I say:
   It was Burgundy
"matte-finish"
       and beautiful,
and had a ...balance
    about it

You could see 
     and read
the dark black writing
           easy

It was
    one of those rare
        possessions that
was a joy forever, 
     and it looked nice
    in my pocket with
 my maroon necktie,

You know---matching stuff...

Three weeks ago...one 
     night I was in 
my Lazy-Boy with my
            feet up
     and watching a re-run
               from the sixties
     of The Virginian
while BE 
      was at choir practice

A lady called for her
     on our landline
and it came at a bad time---
         Doug McClure
     was fixing to plug
this sleezy perp 
     with his .45 Colt...

This lady said: "I need to 
             leave
     my phone number,"

"BANG BANG BANG" 
       he got the perp,
as I scribbled the number...
      and hung up 
   quick-like

Now the next day
     the spiral notebook
   with my burgundy 
        pen stuck in it---
was nowhere to be 
    found...

We searched 
     everywhere, even
   the big pockets 
of my writing jacket,
       and the wastebasket
   Gone, Gone, Gone....

I had saved up 
     a few bucks...and even
called Fahrney's, 
     back east, to replace 
 this favorite pen...

But ah, Cross doesn't make
     that model and color,
   anymore

Just proves my "new saw"
    that 
 "Everything Is Nowhere."

Gone.

Last night
     as I was unwrapping a 
small hard Tootsie Roll
              left-over
       from Halloween,
    it slipped and bounced
right under 
             my Lazy-Boy!

BE helpfully grabbed our 
    handy Picker-Upper
(from Amazon) 
       and grappled-out
the lint-covered Tootsie...

Then (SURPRISE)
          came the lost spiral
   notebook with the phone
          number with the 
      lady's name...

And hallelujah...
        my BURGUNDY CROSS!

(How had we missed it?)

Just goes to show:
      "Everything Is Somewhere."

****************
BY MIL
24 APRIL 17








Saturday, April 22, 2017

"LAGRIMA DE ORO"....R.I.P.




It was dark midnight, and even after,
     and the old timer (me)
         was trying to sleep
He was hearing something as if
    from afar off...or was it 
just a dream?

It seemed like somewhere off in
    the universe, shovels were 
clanking against hard soil like
    a grave was being dug
to bury something

And I was sure that in my dream
    I had heard women's voices---
talking, not laughing but intent
    on doing a job

Were they perps and evil or just
     some run-of-the-mill-conspirators
          up to no good
We'd heard all of our lives about how
   awful conspirators are

This was all going on in my own backyard
    it sounded-like and suddenly I sat
        up in my bed...BOLT UPRIGHT!
Whatever perps there were, they were
    suspiciously trying to be clandestine
diggers

I thew on my favorite robe over my black
     Fruit-of-the-Looms, grabbed my
          Irish SHILLELAGH and tippy-toed
 to the den door and carefully parted the 
     drapes...

Oh yes! Not twenty feet away, acrost the 
    cement block fence two 
sober-faced, beautiful women were 
    carefully and seriously digging 
in their own back lawn!

My, my, I knew it was our own dear
     neighbors...but up to no-good?

I eased out onto the ice-cold patio
    cement and said: "Don't shoot,
it's only me," with what little 
    humor I could muster.

And I looked over the fence and they
    had a little flashlight and seemed 
         to be digging a small grave
    of some kind with those shovels--
        there is the frozen grass

It was in fact our neighbor and her
    daughter...and the story
came out...Ann, the daughter, coming
    home after a late shift at work
          spied this little dead cat
     lying smack-in-the-middle of
         Lagrima de Oro, two streets
    south of us

And being a girl who adored little animals
     she tho't to give this little cat
          a decent burial...thus all the
digging and scraping sounds I had heard

Somewhat humorously to break the
    tension I had said: "What the heck 
        are you girls doing...half the 
neighborhood is up---do you see all
   the lights...and you can't just
       bury dead things in your 
backyard, they might stink, eventually."

They said: "Well, this pore little cat was
    just out for a stroll down the 
        middle of Lagrima de Oro,
   minding his own business when he
     got run over by prolly a speeding
drunk."

"We have given him an appropriate name---
      'LAGRIMA DE ORO,'which means
    'TEAR OF GOLD' in Spanish."

"Tomorrow we will mark the little grave
      with an epitaph of sorts:
   'Here lies Lagrima de Oro,
        .....never meant no harm...
            ...used up his ninth life.' "
------------
As I headed back to bed, with frozen feet,
    I thought to myself, 
I need more-peaceable nights at my age...
    First, it was that screaming skunk...
and now....Lagrima de Oro.
------------
BY MIL
22 APRIL 17
(Verify the veracity of this piece with
    Roger, Bradenton, Fl.)














Monday, April 17, 2017

AN OLD COWHAND GIVES ADVICE



The "old cowhand" speaks:
----------------------

Th' other day, after I had sold some eggs, I was settin'
in Moe's Bar,  in Pine Flats, the onliest village
and bar down in the Magdalenas, SW of Socorro, NM.

I was having a well-earned cerveza, and rest from
runnin' my little 160 acre homestead---a big job---
even with my few cattle, goats, sheep, pigs, and 
chickens.... trying to eke out a living...just like all 
critters, human and otherwise....yes...a living...

Particularly was it hard, since Pearl, my dear life's 
companion passed on last year.

I was thinking back on my past...and enjoying my 
beer.

Someone awhile back said to me: "You look beat!
I bet you have had a hard life." I gave them my
stock retort: "Can't complain."

Truth is, my friend, the life of a cowboy is not for
sissies. It is not for most people. First of all, you
must be a first rate horseman, and know what the
horse is thinking---even before he thinks it!

If you are not "at home in the saddle," and maybe
not born a bit bow-legged, then cowboying is NOT 
for you. You can't be hoity-toity or picky---hermano,
you gotta ROUGH IT---ALL THE WAY!"

You need to be a good roper, a good pistol and rifle
shot, be ready to endure hardships, be a vet to cattle,
butcher animals of all kinds, and even doctor yourself 
at times.

I've slept under the stars---saddle as a pillow, covered
with a saddle blanket, with rattlers coiled next to me
for warmth.

I've slept in warm hay in cozy barns on winter nights,
with coyotes howling outside .

The best place to sleep is a in a bunkhouse with a lit
wood stove, under quilts with your .45 Colt handy
to pop big pesky rats, rather than tolerate 'em!

I've lived in line shacks during winters for months,
with nothing to eat but venison and pintos. But
the peace and silence and beauty of it all...made
it worthwhile.

I have shot deer for food at incredible distances
over open .32 Winchester sights.  I had to---if I
wanted to eat.

Then there are  the years of serous cattle-punching
for the ranchers, when I was young---roping,
branding, dipping, de-horning, making steers....
more cattle than I could ever count.

Every person has to do something unless they're
on food stamps. Being a productive person is 
essential to good self-esteem.

Even now at my age, I still hire out to big ranches
for cattle drives...or maybe some roping and branding
type events.  Mostly I hang out at my little place and
sit in my rocking chair on the front porch,,, and just
rock...sure gets lonesome without Pearl...and she was
a good cook...

I love my nice little log cabin, deep in the Magdalenas.
It has a nice gun rack I built---with a scarred-up 870
pump (which I use for the dozens of quail coveys
around), my bolt- action Marlin .22, and several rifles.
I'd be target practicing all the time, but nowadays 
ammo is expensive, scarce, and a long ways to town,
in my old '72 Chevy truck, to buy more...

Yes, sometimes someone says: "You're looking old
and wrinkled and tard..." and I reply---"Well
actually wimmin' have chased me my whole life and
it has been worse lately...I have developed character 
lines and ripened into a rather attractive fellow! Don't 
you think?"

People say (evidently I look wise to them), "do you,
with all your vast experience in life, have any ADVICE
for the younger folks?"

"In life, play the hand you're dealt, In cards you'll get 
good hands...and bad .. so also in life."

"Success depends on a whole lot of hard work,
some skill, lots of gumption...and a whole lotta
luck."
*******************
BY MIL
(on being inspired by FILLSON'S photo)
11/29/16


GOODBYE DEAR MONTGOMERY WARD



MY LAST WARD'S PURCHASE...
      A "WARSH RAG!" 1996
******************************


When Montgomery Ward closed its last
store in 2001---to some old timers born
in the twenties and thirties it was almost
about as bad as if we had lost Coca Cola
or Chevrolet.

They say the catalog-order thing has been
revived but I have not seen a catalog....and 
it's just not the same. There are vacant spots
on many small town main streets where 
there was once a Ward's store.

From early childhood little boys heard the 
endearing words from their dads mentioning
"Monkey Wards," with fondness.

In my hometown of Clovis there was a Ward's
store on the east side of Main near the busy
corner of Main and Grand. It had two doors
and the south one contained "Man-type-stuff"
like tires and batteries and camping gear and
fishing tackle with Pleuger bass plugs @ 65
cents each.

Little boys, after a Saturday double-feature at 
the Lyceum Theater and a coke at Woolworth's
would head for those fishing lures at Ward's
and ogle them longingly.

Then it was off to Abilene, Tx. to college for me
in '51 and having very little of life's goods, I had
no radio. My uncle came down to visit me and
gave me $25 cash as a graduation-from-high-
school present.

There was a Montgomery Ward right down in
the middle of Abilene and I spent the whole $25
for an Airline Radio and it looked fine in my 
college dorm room.  I still have it.. a tube radio.

Then a number of years later I wound up living
and working (and married) in Artesia, N.M. and
with a new little home needing a lawn and
yard work galore...but with no hoses, sprinklers,
hoes, shovels. takes...and certainly no lawn
mower, I went shopping.

I though of my old childhood store---Monkey
Ward, but couldn't find one anywhere down-
town...the company did have a mail order
counter at the back of some store (I was told),
and there I set up a little account and ordered
my own very first yard equipment.

Our biggie experience with years of trading at 
Montgomery Ward came about like this. As 
we were contemplating the move to 
Albuquerque, our host in showing us around 
town approached the brand new WINROCK 
SHOPPING MALL from the east side of town---

The first big store we saw as we turned west
off Pennsylvania and looked across a vast
parking lot was the big block-wide magnificent
MONTGOMERY WARD STORE.  It opened to
the inside of the mall and had several outdoor
entrances.

Over forty years we traded there, once buying
a camping trailer which our little family used 
for fishing trips. We ran an account there for
years until we quit having any accounts.

Good old Winrock Shopping Center closed
at some point after that..."for remodeling,"
and much of it still remains closed. Another
company occupied Ward's old building for
years but recently relocated.

I often picked up some needed "Powerkraft"
hand tool, such as a small Phillips screw
driver or such from the store's tool section
when I needed a specific tool.

One day as I passed thru the store on an 
errand I spotted some cool hand towels 
and wash cloths. I was taken by their unique-
ness. I bought several of each.

One wash cloth survives from my final Ward's
purchase and it is,pictured above.

When a person gets older they have 
accumulated about all the stuff they need
to survive...but we do miss Momygomery
Ward...we miss seeing the stores---we
still have the memories of earlier days...
  
After all, M.W. was a big part of America....in
    our minds.

**********************
BY MIL
12 APRIL 17












Monday, April 10, 2017

"THE SMALLEST WORM"



O my defeated friend
     Have you 
in life
      ever been
insulted ignored
       laughed at or
made fun of...

Slighted 
           forgotten
been a sneeree or
      were shrugged off

Or have you been
      taken lightly
overlooked 
      gone mostly unnoticed

Or accused of not
      being PC?

Tho't to be of
     no value 
and/or
     of no consequence 
and felt your ego
     crushed?

Ah, don't fret it...
     don't sweat it
any longer

There IS a remedy
    it's never 
too late
    to "RARE-UP!"

"THE SMALLEST WORM WILL TURN
       BEING TRODDEN UPON."
   .....William Shakespeare

***************
BY MIL
11 MAR 2017



OUR NEIGHBOR....ELMER


We thought we'd feed
   the little hungry birds
during this cold winter
   and we set up
a fine bird feeder
   just outside 
my "writing window"

And they came, many kinds
    of birds and were
all over the grain, big time

Wrens, sparrows, chickadees
    "orange-headed" house finches
and even a big dove, now 
    and then

And an impostor....a masquerader...
    which was not a bird at all
but he faked it...acted like one...

Now he had a tail like a mouse...
   and little ears like a mouse...
and an appetite like a mouse...
    and a shifty look like a mouse...
and he scampered like one....

Why it was Elmer, our 
    neighbor's mouse
We recognized him on sight

So BE took down our grain
   saying: "Mice are the last straw!"

"I'm not feeding no mice, no matter
if they are...

kinda cute."
-------------------
MIL
2 March 2017



HE SAID TO ME..."I DON'T BELIEVE IN MIRACLES"


                       Photo by W.L.M

My friend said...
"I don't believe in miracles."

I believed I had a losing. 
     discussion with this man,
a' comin' up...

I said:
You are a miracle...I am...
The sun is a miracle
      clouds and rain...
Having friends along the 
      Journey is a miracle...

Have you thought of---
      Singing birds, little
puppy dogs and jumping
      frogs...
Trees and leaves, of all kinds?

How about wonderful wives
      and little babies 
with their little fingers and toes,
      and first two lower 
front teeth...and first giggle...

Remember our mothers
     who nursed us thru
measles, mumps, sore throats...
     and always cooked for us?

And dads, who taught us all
      manner of things 
and took us fishing and stuff...

Have you thought about---
     the miracle of Freedom,
and how lucky we've been
      in the good old USA ...

The mountains and the hills,
     the rocks and the rills...
The fish, that jump and the 
      hawks that soar...

And running and jumping 
     and competing in sports
and your body is made
     to heal itself...

How can I even name a thousand
      beautiful flowers---the roses,
the daisies, the daffodils...dast I
     mention sunflowers and 
crocuses...

"My friend," I said, "you just need
      to go look at THE SOIL
and see what miracles, come
       from it."






********************


BY MIL
3 April 17