THAT PAPER BAG OF FIREWORKS

          *************************
          SELF PRESERVATION?
          *************************
          by Dr. Albin Covington, guest writer

I was driving along and thought of this old Fourth story  and thought I would share it.  It happened either 1965 or 1966. 

We were living in St. Clair, MO.  Just behind our house was a railroad track and beyond that was an open field.  I had purchased a paper bag of fireworks. That evening we went to the back yard to enjoy them.  I could shoot them toward the field.  I sat the sack down beside me.  I had told the children to stay back behind me.   I got busy setting off the fireworks.     Now, I had always thought that I would always put the safety  of my children or any one else ahead of myself.  As I was preparing for the show, I did not realize my son, Chuck, came up behind me.  He wanted to see what fireworks were left in the paper bag.  I should also state that we had given the children "sparklers" to play with.   As Chuck looked into the bag, his sparkler touched the bag.  Needless to say, it ignited.  When I saw that, I took off as fast as I could!  I got about 5steps away before I realized he was still standing by the bag.  I did a quick reversal and grabbed him and ran as fast as I could.  We had one great big bang on that fourth of July!

That evening I learned that often self preservation is a very strong force.  I also learned to be more careful with fireworks and especially around children and sparklers!       

Albin Covington at the Korean Monument

---------30--------

FOR MIL'S

by Dr.Albin Covington,

CHS Class of '51

7/04/13

FLYING OLD GLORY IN RATON IN 1911

Kruger Flag on Goat Hill, Raton, NM 1911

Old Glory atop Goat Hill, Raton, NM 1911

************************************************
REMEMBER THOSE WHO LOVED OLD GLORY
************************************************
by guest writer, Robert Stebbins

Seems like every year about this time the 4th of July rolls around. It is not Flag Day, but a good day for the red, white, and blue.  It has been happening for a long, long time.  Parades, fireworks, rodeos, hot dogs, ice cream, soda pop, and baseball games all come to mind when remembering a childhood 4th of July. Certainly long before present day backyard barbecued sushi and energy drinks.  And, hot. It was always hot in New Mexico on the 4th of July.

     As we grow older, we still tend to accumulate stuff.  Friends and relatives pass on, and we become the inheritors of old photographs, clippings, and other treasured items.  Some pieces are familiar to us, and others are difficult to identify or trace.  Fortunately, documents and photos support the following story.

     My grandmother's father, Robert, a native of Hanover, Germany, came to the United States in 1869.  After living in Illinois and Nebraska, he eventually found his way to Raton, New Mexico in 1896 "where he had charge of the throttle and steam pipes on the engine in the Santa Fe railroad shops" for four years.  He later reportedly was appointed marshal, and served as street commissioner, sewer inspector, and was elected constable for three different terms.

     As we all know after studying state history, New Mexico was admitted as the 47th state on January 6, 1912.  However, before New Mexico became a state, Robert, on his own initiative on August 23, 1911, planted a 35-foot pole atop Goat Hill in Raton.  A beautiful 9' x 16' American flag made in the United States of America topped the pole.  Robert wrote a postcard to his grandson in Clovis informing him that Old Glory on top of Gote (sic) Hill will not be taken down until the last thread is worn out, and she will be replaced with a new one.

1911 Postcard from Robert Kruger to Grandson

     One of my uncles and two of my cousins and I traveled to Raton on September 27, 1997, to present the flag to the Colfax County Society of Art, History and Archeology  for the Raton Museum. As part of the presentation, the flag first was raised at city hall and now is on permanent display at the museum at 116 South First Street.  The museum contains a lot of interesting items, and you may want to stop by if you are ever in that area.

     Robert died in 1930, three years before I was born.  He made his mark in Raton.  So, more than 100 years later I remember him and his flag.  I am sorry that I never had a chance to meet him, but from all that I know about him, he was my kind of guy.  Enjoy your 4th of July, and always remember those who loved Old Glory.

Kruger Flag Raising, Raton, NM 1997

 -----30-----
for Mil's Place
Robert Stebbins, guest writer

FIREWORKS ON JULY FOURTH

By Richard Drake,
Guest Writer

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

"HEY, BOB....IS THAT A ROCKET IN YOUR POCKET?!"
***********************************************************

FIREWORKS ON JULY FOURTH



My favorite memory of the Fourth of July in Clovis was one year with my friend, Bob Snipes.   As I remember it, Clovis City Management had curtailed the use of sky rockets in the downtown area.  That offered a challenge to two seventeen year old boys.  Somehow Bob had learned how to make delayed burning fuses by soaking knitting yarn in salt peter. After it dried the yarn would burn at a fixed rate.  By cutting off the right length, we could set the time of launch for our Roman candle rockets.  After much strategic planning, the rockets were placed at different spots up and down Main Street in placed in the alleys and beside the stores.  It was easy to light fuses of the rockets and drive to our viewing place in front of the State Theater.  It was great fun to watch the police race to the site of each launching and find no one there and, immediately, another rocket would explode at the other end of Main. This continued for several minutes.  Of course, we knew nothing when we were approached by the officers asking if we had seen anyone.  We had been standing there throughout the time and they were our witnesses.

            The evening ended on the Eugene Field outdoor basketball court.  Bob and I engaged each other in a duel with hand held 10 ball roman candles rockets.  It was not dangerous because the balls of fire were easily evaded. The basketball court was a perfect place since we did not have to worry about a grass fire.  As we were ending our play duel, Bob aimed his last shot at the backboard.  It bounced back toward him and he did not move fast enough.  The fire ball landed in the pocket of his shirt and set off a package of lady finger fire crackers that he was carrying in the pocket. Of course the package was open and ready to light. I have never seen anyone rip a shirt off as fast as Bob.  He did have a hole in his brand new shirt and a ripped pocket as well as two or three missing buttons. Thankfully he was not burned but his mother had just made the shirt for him. The tough part was he had to tell his Mother.

Everyone has many their memories of fireworks on the fourth of July.  During the time that we lived in Massachusetts we were able to see the gigantic display put on in Boston out over the harbor each year.   We went early so we could  have a large meal of Italian food at a good restaurant in Boston’s North End and still have time to get an excellent vantage point right on the water’s edge.  The fireworks were ignited from a barge out in the water about a hundred yards away.  They appeared to explode right over our heads.  The sounds from the blasts reverberated off of the tall glass buildings just behind us.  They were so loud that it actually hurt our stomachs but it was great entertainment.  We could faintly see the personnel running around on the deck of the barge setting off the rockets.  Afterwards, we had to race to the train station to catch the last ride home.  We barely made it. Probably the heavy Italian food added to our exhaustion.

            Another year our girls and grandsons came for a visit on the fourth.  That year we decided to forgo the train ride into Boston and stay in our local town to watch the highly touted fireworks show.  We received good advice from some of our “old timer” neighbors and positioned ourselves with picnic baskets on a hill side that overlooked the football stadium.  The fireworks were launched from an area just behind the building and they rose high overhead.  We had a perfect viewing point.  What made it so unforgettable was a lightning storm came into view and formed a dramatic backdrop.  It was amazing to see the fireworks explode while surrounded by bolts of lightning.  It went on for almost an hour and we had no rain. After the show it was a very short drive home to get the boys to bed.

*********30*********

FOR MIL'S
By Richard Drake,
CHS Class of '53

Sent from my iPad

     

"ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL"

William Shakespeare

**************************************************************
"A HORSE, A HORSE! MY KINGDOM FOR A HORSE!"
**************************************************************

I hated computers. We didn't get off to a good start. "AND THEREBY HANGS A TALE."  Several, in fact.

First of all, in my second career, my company issued us all an early model computer, a Model T, if you will, and deducted a hundred a month from our pay...from then on. Oh yes. ("THE SMALLEST WORM WILL TURN, BEING TRODDEN UPON.") It was a lap top, and they sent a 21 inch monitor for stationary office purposes---to conserve the lap top's screen. I never even took the monitor out of the box.

My interest in that computer was "DEAD AS A DOORNAIL!"

You see, this computer would never do anything I wanted it to, and I could never get out of a page. "IT WAS GREEK TO ME." The ALT, CTRL, DEL buttons were worn smooth.  I'd take the company secretary out to lunch once a week and get her to submit all those boring forms to the company. When I retired after twenty five years, I boxed that computer and its attachments and sent it back to them, as required, even though I had paid for it. I went out and got a six pack of diet Dr. Peppers and celebrated, big time. I was "MERRY AS THE DAY IS LONG!"

As I sipped those Dr. Peppers, I thought to myself, it'll be "FOREVER AND A DAY" before I touch another computer!

That's where things rested for fourteen years. No computer for me. My wife, a computer expert, did however help me to write a friend, beginning in 2000, on her computer. Jimmy Whatley, a classmate of the CHS class of '51, and I began writing letters once a week or more,  He loved his computer and we got into some fun correspondence. The wife would set it all up and I'd type it, and she'd do whatever you had to do to send it. I had forgotten the expression "BREVITY IS THE SOUL OF WIT," and one day I had a three-pager going to J.W. and I hit something---don't ask me what button, you know computers---and lo, to my chagrin, my beautiful letter was GONE, and I was worn out mentally and physically.

(And her computer was supposed to be the "BE ALL AND END ALL" of computers!)

I stomped out to my garage, got a diet PEPSI, and almost smoked that big stale Churchill cigar that came from Conway-Stewart with my old-fashioned Churchill fountain pen. But I was afraid I might get sick! I said: "GOOD RIDDANCE," and didn't touch the computer for two weeks!

Now then, a funny thing happened on Christmas,  2010. We were all around the fire, "FANCY FREE", opening our packages one by one (at first), and my daughter-in-law received a little thing about  the size of a book and it was in a nice little tan leather case...and I watched them fooling with it and I heard "computer," "IPAD," and words like that. My son brought it over and showed it to me--- there weren't that many buttons to learn, not many at all. Hmmm. (I guess I was wondering to myself if it was "HIGH TIME" for me to get back into the computer game.)

All of a sudden, "FOR NO RHYME OR REASON," "AT ONE FELL SWOOP," "IN THE BLINKING OF AN EYE," I said: "I want one of those!" The next day, my son and wife went down to the Apple Store. The day-after-Christmas crowd "BEGGAR'D ALL DESCRIPTION". They braved massive lines, and at 11:45 a.m. came walking in with my new IPAD---"HENRY"---destined to be one of the best friends I ever had. (I take back all I ever said about computers.) In my disinterest, I had never realized the amount of information out there. NEVER.

Now, as to how I got started writing---back in CHS high school English class,  Mrs. Barton one day challenged the class to enter a New Mexico "Hire The Handicapped: It's Good Business" contest. Jerry Roberts and I entered that contest and forgot about it. One day the results came back: Jerry had won THIRD in the state, and I had won SECOND. Our pics were in the Clovis News-Journal, and one day, that summer, I came home from plowing all day, and "AS GOOD LUCK WOULD HAVE IT," there was an envelope with a twenty-five dollar US Savings Bond in it.

Wow! What good luck! "LAY IT ON WITH A TROWEL,"  I thought!!

In my first career I did a considerable amount of writing. Several friends had said later on, "You ought to be writing." One day, the wife said those exact words to me. She said: "We'll set up a blog, you write, and I'll edit it, and put it on!" I had only three words: "What's a blog?" True. (Today, I don't really like the term at  all--- I prefer "post.")

So we started.  That first productive year, 2011, I wanted to jump-start my mind; thus we took eleven of THE GREAT COURSES in one year. The subjects were varied, and I am listing our courses, feeling that the reader will be interested in the kind of courses that are available:

  

   1. "THE ART OF READING,"----Dr. Timothy Spurgin

   2. "THE CATHEDRAL"----Dr. William R.Cook, splendid

   3. "THE HISTORY OF ANCIENT EGYPT"---Dr. Bob Brier, 48 lectures

   4. "THE GENIUS OF MICHELANGELO"----Dr. William E Wallace
        splendid

   5. ""EXPERIENCING HUBBLE"----Dr. David M. Meyer

   6. "EXPERIENCING ROME---A VISUAL EXPLORATION OF
        ANTIQUITY'S GREATEST EMPIRE"---Dr Steven L. Tuck

   7. "THE THEORY OF EVOLUTION: A CENTURY OF
        CONTROVERSY"---- Dr. Edward J. Larson

   8. "HOW TO LOOK AT AND UNDERSTAND GREAT ART"----
        Dr. Sharon L. Hirsh

        

   AND three writing courses----

   9. "ANALYSIS AND CRITIQUE: HOW TO ENGAGE AND
        WRITE ABOUT ANYTHING"----Dr. Dorsey Armstrong

  10. "WRITING CREATIVE NONFICTION"---Dr. Tilar J. Mazzeo

  11. "BUILDING BETTER SENTENCES: THE WRITER'S CRAFT"
         Dr. Brooks Landon   (This last may have been the most helpful course
         of all.)

Poetry was never a strong suit of mine--reading it or writing it. Reading, it was always hard to grasp. An Irish man-of-the-cloth and dear friend of mine, whose religion apparently permitted a colorful  word now and then, loved poetry. I told him of my difficulties with some poetry---he said (in his delightful brogue): "Hell, Mil, you don't have to understand it, just read it and enjoy it."

 After reading "THE APPLE TREES OF OLEMA," by Robert Hass, and Dr. Landon's lecture on "RHYTHM IN PROSE," I gained a new appreciation and feel for non-rhyming poetry.  If one stops and thinks, he sees that good rhyming poetry can be very difficult---you may either have to force a rhyme or adapt the thought to achieve the rhyme, (or is that the same thing?!) We should admire many of the early English and American poets, for their skills.

In college at HSU, a good friend of mine, June, from CHS, and I wound up together in a whole semester of Robert Browning, a difficult poet to understand. In fact, one day a person asked him, "Sir, what did you mean when you wrote such-and-such?" Browning replied: "Sir, when I wrote that, God and I knew what it meant; now only God knows!" Suffice it to say, that after sixty years, I am still working on "Fra Lippo Lippi."

So-o-o, I hope this story hasn't been "TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING," or a "WILD GOOSE CHASE," either, but the big news is that the editor and I, for our mental improvement and sharpening project for 2013, will not be taking eleven more courses, but will order the ONE biggie: "HOW TO READ AND UNDERSTAND SHAKESPEARE." 24 lectures. "We're going to do it!"  (Then you may find my writings sprinkled with Shakespearean quotes!)

After all, can you pass up a 3/4 off sale, with free shipping?!

This is: "SUCH STUFF AS DREAMS ARE MADE OF."

http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/phrases-sayings-shakespeare.html

*******30******
BY MIL
6/23/13

"MY SHOVEL....IS MY REAL FRIEND"

by John Brabson, guest writer

RESPONSE TO:  "THE OLD GRUBBIN HOE"

Hi Mil,

What you have is properly called a "cutter mattock".  My equivalent go-to tool (chopping roots on tree trunks, loosening the caliche we facetiously  call "soil", and for shagging out the deep set roots of our local agave variety) is called a "pick mattock".  Neither should be confused with a "pickaxe" which has a pick on one end, but a rather narrower blade on the mattock end.  My mattock is always shiny because it is forever scraping itself against rocks....(fancy that!).

Wish I could (easily) send you a picture of my shovel;  this is my real friend.  In my yard I've got somewhere between 150 and 200 cubic yards of wood chips in deep holes under a thin layer of "soil".  It was supposed to sit there quietly and rot, providing me, eventually, with something resembling real soil.  Of course, it hasn't rained in 2 1/2 years on my property, so the wood chips are sitting in their holes not-rotting, not-even-molding, as fresh as the day I shoveled them in.  Anyway, I showed my shovel to a serious farmer (corn) in the family a year or so ago, and he remarked as how he had a shovel that looked just like mine:  worn handle, loose in the shovel head because of trying to pry one too many heavy rocks, and missing the first four inches or so of the cutting edge.  He told me he broke the point off of his shovel some years back.  I couldn't resist telling him, and it is true, that the four inches missing off the cutting edge on my shovel are there because of wear!  You gotta dig a lot of cubic yards to wear four inches of steel off the point of a shovel!

And don't get me started on my broken pruning shears....  And granddad's carpentry saw....  And the screwdriver with the completely rounded point - one of my most useful tools....

Best, JB

----30----

FOR MIL'S PLACE
by John Brabson
6-20-13

"TEN THOUSAND TIMES TEN THOUSAND"

******************************
"THE ARMIES OF THE RANSOMED SAINTS THRONG UP THE STEEPS OF LIGHT..."

  ******************************

 "That in the ages to come he might shew the exceeding riches of His grace in his kindness toward us through Christ Jesus..." Ephesians 2:7

  ******************************

 "...Behold, the Lord cometh with ten thousands of his saints."  Jude 14

  ******************************

It seems that the great cosmic plan of all creation is to have free will beings who have repented, been forgiven by the sacrifice of the Son, through faith---who then walk with a new heart and are destined, by His promises, to reign with Him throughout all eternity, through no merit of their own, and only by His love and grace. (We think of John Newton's "amazing grace, how sweet the sound...")

The author of this hymn, Henry Alford, posits that creation was the eternal plan in God's mind: "O joy for which creation.and all its tribes were made..." (I am reminded of a choral piece we sang in college wherein God is speaking: "I'm lonely, I think I'll build me a world.")

Alford mentions in the third line of the first stanza of his text what all mortals look forward to: "Tis finished, all is finished, their fight with death and sin..." This victory is expressed in the very first line of the hymn: "Ten thousand times ten thousand in sparkling raiment bright, The armies of the ransomed saints throng up the steeps of light..."

O what a day and a thrilling sight; we would pray that no human being would be left behind. What a beautiful piece of insight from the writer---his view of heaven!

Then in the third stanza, the joyous meeting again of loved ones and friends: "O then what raptured greetings on Canaan's happy shore!"

Regretfully, I do not remember having it in any church hymnal. Thus I believe I've never led it for a congregation. In searching for a choral rendition, one is not available on You Tube. I am attaching an organ rendition for the readers. It does appear, I believe, in a MoTab collection titled "Rock of Ages," available from Amazon.

A marvelous thrill for a director would be to have a thousand voice choir of trained singers, a pipe organ, and to direct this choir in singing: "Ten thousand times ten thousand..."

Henry Alford, the hymn writer, was born in London in 1810 and passed away in 1871. This hymn was sung at his funeral. This very literary and talented man graduated at Trinity College, with honors, was an English minister who held many important church positions, including tenures at Quebec Chapel, Wymeswold, Ampton, and Canterbury.

During his lifetime he wrote many religious articles, poems, and at least sixty-one hymn texts. His main contribution in literature was his Greek New Testament, on which he spent twenty years. Julian, the great hymnologist, thought many of his hymns were "cold and conventional." Most of us will remember his much-sung Thanksgiving hymn, "Come, Ye Thankful People, Come."

In the composer of the tune "ALFORD," John Bacchus Dykes, one would feel we have a gift from God. He wrote three hundred hymn tunes. In the Baptist Hymnal of 1957, there are ten. Congregations in many churches sing on Sunday mornings, " Holy, Holy, Holy." The tune "Nicaea" is by Dykes. The hymn tune name comes from the Council of Nicaea, 325 A.D., which reaffirmed the church's belief in the Trinity.

John Dykes became an assistant church organist at age twelve at St. John's, Hall. In 1862 he became Vicar at St. Oswald's, Durham. He published sermons and articles on religion in addition to his three hundred hymn tunes. He was a talented musician, playing the organ, piano, violin, and horn.

The entire text of the hymn is quoted here; read and be blessed.

"Ten thousand times ten thousand in sparkling raiment bright,
The armies of the ransomed saints throng up the steeps of light;
'Tis finished, all is finished, their fight with death and sin;
Fling open wide the golden gates, and let the victors in.

What rush of alleluias fills all the earth and sky!
What ringing of a thousand harps bespeaks the triumph nigh!
O day, for which creation and all it's tribes were made;
O joy, for all its former woes a thousandfold repaid!

O then what raptured greetings on Canaan's happy shore;
What knitting severed friendships up, where partings are no more!
Then yes with joy shall sparkle, that brimmed with tears of late;
Orphan no longer fatherless, nor widows desolate.

Bring near Thy great salvation, Thou Lamb for sinners slain;
Fill up the roll of Thine elect, then take Thy power and reign;
Appear, Desire of nations, Thine exiles long for home;
Show in the heaven Thy promised sign; Thou Prince and Savior, come."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5kZuqUM6jeM&feature=youtube_gdata_player

*******30******

BY MIL
5/25/13

Sent from my iPad

THE OLD GRUBBIN' HOE

Leanin' there today
In my backyard shed
Resting...
After a lifetime
Of hard work
is Dad's old
Grubbin' hoe.

O, if it could only
talk!
It'd have stories.
It helped win WWII
with our Victory Garden.

It was good for doing
Almost anything, it
seemed!
With some energetic
chopping, you could dig
a big hole in a hurry!

We used it for digging
in flower beds...
Planting trees...
Making rows in the garden,
Using it kinda like a plow...

Or chores at the farm...
Breaking the ice in winter
on the stock tanks...
Digging out a "stuck truck,"

Tidying-up irrigation ditches
and planting the "farm garden"

 Including the watermelons!

The big thing I remember
about that old grubbin' hoe
Was when we went down
on Second Street there in
Clovis, at the end of Wallace,
Where water always stood---
and dug our big fat worms
for a fishing trip to the Pecos.

It seemed the old hoe
Was almost like a dog
anticipating a walk---
It was ready and eager and loved
digging for worms.

Through many years
It was always there
like a loyal friend---almost
a member of the family.
Ready to do any chore
Big or small...
It was our "go-to-guy"
So to speak!
It got all beat up
and rusted
with the heavy wood handle
Showing many scars.

Those in the cognoscenti
May call them "mattocks,"
Or "azadas," but
In West Texas, they were
Simply "grubbin' hoes."
Same thing.

The years went on and I left home.
Dad grew older...
We all grew older
even the grubbin' hoe.
And there were no more
fun fishin' trips to the Pecos,
and no more worm diggin'.

I went back over to his house,
often...
Dad, ever a farm boy
Would be sitting against the house
In his old faded green steel lawn chair
in the summer time...
Surveying his backyard.

He had apple trees, cherry trees,
And a peach tree...
He had his straight rows of
Black-eye peas, Kentucky Wonder
Green beans, cucumbers, okra,

His ever-present onions and garlic,
and squash, with nary a bug...

 and of course---the tomatoes!

And right next to him, leaning
against the house, was his companion...
And mine --- from WWII times... it was the old
Grubbin' hoe---which he used for weeds,
And whatever else.

One day, out back there, in his
cool green inviting backyard,
He and my youngest son were talking;
Dad said: "I love to come outside, early
on a summer's morning...my little plants are
all singing and dancing with joy,
just to be alive."

Today it rests in the corner of my shed,
Not lonely--- for there are
Other garden tools there...
But not in its class or with
Its experience...

I may just clean up the old veteran
a bit, get some rust off and oil it---
Maybe even repaint the bare handle

 a nice symbolic green color---

And move it up to my cozy attic room,
Where it'll last forever,
Lean it against the wall
and put a picture of Dad in his straw hat
On the wall, right over the
Old grubbin' hoe.

********30********

Dedicated to my Dad, Father's Day, 2013

BY MIL
5/17/13




Sent from my iPad

CHS CLASS OF '53 HAS 60th REUNION

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

1953 to 2013 – Sixty Years, a reunion

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

by Richard Drake, guest writer

The Clovis High School class of 1953 met in Clovis over the Memorial Day weekend for its 60^th reunion.  We all anticipated looking back at old memories and they started coming back to us as we were driving across the plains of west Texas. The landscape was very very dry.  The closer we got to New Mexico, the dryer it seemed to be.  It was just like it was when we were growing up in the “Wonderful Land of Clovis”.  Yes, we remembered them so well.  Every few miles or so, we would see a big dust devil.   Tumble weeds were piled along some of the fences by the highways.  The few trees in the ditches were almost all dead.  They looked like the Elm trees that we grew up with. Even the yuccas appeared to be struggling. Of course, the mesquite trees were doing well. And it was a welcome sight to see the irrigated fields with their new green growth.

As we early arrivers were checking into our rooms we were welcomed by a surprise storm.   It was right out of the 1950’s.  The dust was just terrible. After the winds abated we made a quick trip to Wal-Mart to get a forgotten toiletry item and we found dirt at least one quarter of an inch thick on the floor of the entrance for a distance of about 15 feet into the store.  It was a reminder of the “good ole” days, only a little different in that some large rain drops came with the sand.  The next morning the cars were covered with red mud.  YES, we were back in New Mexico.

            The first event of the reunion was a “lets meet for dinner” at the El Rancho.  No one had expected a large turnout for this early event so the restaurant set up a room for thirty people and before you knew it, more place settings were needed.  One count was 47 people. The wait staff tried their best to take care of everyone.  They were overwhelmed.  It gave us extra time to do a lot of visiting while the orders were taken and the food was being prepared.

 To paraphrase an expression from a well known novel, it was the happiest of times and also the saddest.  Happy because so many of our classmates were looking so fit.  They were maybe a little more gray, a little more wrinkled, some a little heavier and some with a slight sag in their posture.   The women were, as I remembered them, the prettiest girls in New Mexico.  Thinking back, not even the girls from Albuquerque High School in their “trend setting skin tight Levi jeans” could compete with our girls.  Yes, they were pretty.

  The sad part of the event was so many of our classmates have passed on to a better place.  Over one-third of the graduating members of the class are no longer with us.  Some of the more recent were Alvis Glidewell, the thin as a rail guard of the 53’ state champs and, shortly before, Gerald Clancy, our  6’4´center had preceded him.   Wilbur Johnson, an all star football player at left tackle, attended with wife, Jodi.  Wilbur passed one week after the gathering.  All of our classmates will be missed.

On Saturday afternoon, a mixer was held at the Clovis Civic Center.  Again, the turnout was large and the visiting was good.  Phil Gore had videotaped some of the earlier reunions and had transferred them onto a digital disk.  They played into a continuous loop on a large screen and provided a good background for the conversing.  It was fun to look back to the earlier times.  Several people brought their scrap books and old annuals.  They received a lot of attention. 

After brief naps (remember our ages), it was back to the Civic Center for the reunion dinner.  Thirty seven classmates were in attendance for a total of 59 people, counting spouses and a few off-spring. To every one’s pleasant surprise, the food was excellent.  The City of Clovis has really kept pace with other cities. Raymond Atkins, who chaired the planning committee for the event, kicked off the program with a few remarks.  He turned things over to Phil Gore who, as expected, was a witty speaker and excellent story teller.  He had several funny things to say, in particular, about his bow tie on which no one had commented.  At the mixer he pointed out that no one noticed his new purple and white shirt for which he had paid over 80 dollars.  As the story was repeated the shirt became less expensive. He said his feelings were hurt but his mischievous grin told another story.

Marcia Drake, who had done all of the corresponding with classmates leading up to the event, gave a brief report on her correspondence with many of our old friends who could not make it to Clovis but did send news.  She reported that over 20 people had contacted her with news of their families and about other friends. Marcia received a “job well done” from all of the attendees.  

Raymond reported that the bank account for the reunion effort had grown to more than was needed to plan and kick start another reunion.  The committee had decided to have drawings for the excess. Eight people shared in the “loot”, ranging from $80.00 to $10.00.  Bob Snipes acted as the money bag man and there were rumors of a possible “fix” when Betty Rae’s name was pulled out of the hat.   All had a good laugh.

After a great dessert there was a discussion about having another reunion and when should it be held.  In – three years or five years?  A voice from the back of the room settled the matter when he said “think about it.  At our age five years may be too long to wait”.  So it was agreed to meet again in three years.  Marcia once again volunteered to handle the correspondence.  Classmates still living in Clovis will serve as the planning and coordinating. 

The evening ended with a standing rendition of the Clovis school song.

“Other schools have different colors

And different emblems too

But the Clovis sons and daughters

Have the white and purple true

These are our colors royal

And may we never forget that while

They robe the monarch they deck the violet.”

Hope to see everyone in three years

----30----
For Mil's Place
by Richard Drake
6-12-13

"SHEEPHERDER NEAR SAN CRISTOBAL"

****************************************************
A PHOTOGRAPHY TRIP: HEADED OUT TO "THE FARAWAY"
****************************************************

Sheepherder Near San Cristobal

by Mil, 1969

On a beautiful autumn morning in October, 1969, my fellow photographer, Don, and I left Albuquerque early, heading for "The Faraway," Georgia O'Keeffe's name for her beloved northern New Mexico.

We were members of the prestigious Enchanted Lens Camera Club, a group of amateurs who met weekly, and many of whom were professional level in their abilities. Don, a retired school administrator from back east, was a marvelous photographer and a genius in the darkroom. We occasionally did a "photo trip" together.

The club had weekly competitions in black-and-white and color prints, as well as the ever popular color slides, which were much in vogue at that time. What Don and I were after that morning---were pictures not available around town---pictures that would WOW the judges in our competitions. Whizzing up the Santa Fe highway at 70 mph, with few exits, was 60 miles wasted in our book; thus we went up the east side of the Sandias to Santa Fe---a very picturesque drive with many photo opportunities.

The "Church At Golden" was just crying out to be photographed, and we got that pic. A simple photo, but nice, with the stucco showing its texture.

Church at Golden

by Mil, 1969

 We went on up through Espanola and could have turned right, there, and gone through  the mountain villages and got good pics, but we opted to go on to Taos, and take the highway to the right that winds around the mountain to Eagle Nest---a most-scenic drive in the fall; smoke was rising  from many chimneys along the way.

At Eagle Nest we photographed the famous Memorial. We then went north and angled around left and arrived in Red River. All this time we were getting pics of red and gold autumn leaves on the trees. We turned back south toward Taos at Questa, an interesting village; we may need to return there sometime!

The title picture for this post was only fifteen miles south down the road ahead of us, but I didn't know it yet.

Through the years, I made many such "photo trips," as this one. I had gone to Ft. Union and found it to be packed with scenes to capture. I had been to Lincoln, White Oaks, Seven Rivers, Three Rivers, Old Mesilla, Inscription Rock, Shiprock, Cimmaron Canyon, Window Rock, and White Sands---one of the best places of all.

The camera club had been good for me; I learned so much there about all facets of picture-taking, and darkroom techniques, plus I had checked out every book (it seemed), on photography in the Albuquerque libraries and studied other people's pictures.

The Albuquerque Tribune had a four-week photo contest in 1969 called "FAVORITE NEW MEXICO PICTURE CONTEST," or something close to that. There would be four weekly first places and first-second-third Grand prizes at the end. I was a  year into serious photography at the time, and went in to win.

This is not to boast but merely show the reader what hard work can do: I came out with First Place, Second Week--- and Second Place, Grand Prize. There may have been a Third Place win also---I can't recall. This was some forty-four years ago. My Windmill had taken a first, and the Second Grand Prize was a low shot up an angled wagon tongue to the old wagon---at Ft. Union, with some adobe walls in the background;  I called it: "LAST STOP---FT. UNION." I have a picture of it from the TRIB but the print itself is stored away somewhere...

Back to me and Don. As we came over a low hill, headed back toward Taos, we were nearing San Cristobal, a tiny village. There in front of us was a picture waiting to be  taken: a sheepherder on horseback---and his dog--- attempting to drive a bunch of sheep across the road. He had his hands full.

I grabbed my 35mm camera, there in the seat by me, and stepped out on the highway and quickly shot three or four pictures. Don didn't get out. It was an optimum shot. The sheepherder was in partial silhouette; there was some light dust in the air, and the sheep were backlit by the afternoon sun. I'd have preferred the bigger 2 1/2 negative to work with in the darkroom, but my big camera was in the backseat and time was the factor.

To give you an idea of where we were, if you could see 100 miles over the horseman's head, you would be looking at the Sandia Mountains.

The day wasn't over for us, photographically. We stopped in Ranchos de Taos, and I got my photo of the famous mission---one of the fifty most-photographed churches in the world: "SAN FRANCISCO DE ASIS." (It is listed under World Heritage and National Landmarks, 1970. It is interesting to google and see the many views of this church. The backside seems to be fascinating to some artists.)

San Francisco de Asis

by Mil, 1969

So on down to Furr's Cafeteria in Santa Fe, to more or less end our trip. There you could count on a delicious dinner, and what better way to wind up a good trip than a piece of Millionaire Pie, and a cup of coffee!
**********************
An afterthought---There are all kinds of trips we take in our lives...short ones,  long ones...necessary and unnecessary ones...anticipated ones and dreaded ones...

We take biking trips, camping trips, fishing trips, hunting trips, hiking trips,  picnicking and sight seeing trips...but in my experience there are few trips as interesting, compelling, and exciting as a photographic trip with the express purpose of taking great pictures.

You've read it before from me. I read in TWO writing courses: "Today's people are so busy, so mentally occupied, so wrapped-up-in-whatever, that they see only 10% of the world around them. To get the most out of life, one should see the other 90%."

Take a good lunch, a thermos, some Dr. Peppers, and make a round trip---don't come back the same way! Take pictures. Take pictures of everything. Oh, and take plenty of film! Oops! LOL.

 Have the best ones enlarged.

********30*******
BY MIL
6/10/13

Sent from my iPad



THE ELINOX ODYSSEY

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

RESPONSE TO "THE ATTIC DECORATORS"
*******************************************************

by Brian Moore

I liked your recent attic blog. I remember granddad's fishing box from when we went to Eagle Nest. And the grape and orange sodas, so cold from the ice chest, that it hurt to hold one in your hand.

I had an experience recently that reminded me of one of your blogs. I call it the "Elinox Odyssey".

You may remember when I came to plant your tomatoes that I brought my old "Swiss army knife". I told you how I bought it when I was twelve, around 1975. At that time, I had always wanted an authentic Swiss Army knife, but they were just too expensive, out of the price range of a twelve year old.  But one day, when you and I were shopping at Jones' Surplus Barn, I saw that they had a Swiss Army Knife for $3.50! I had that much in my child's wallet, so I promptly bought it.

I knew that at that price point, it had to be a cheap knock-off, but it seemed like a pretty decent knife anyway. In spite of being a cheap imitation, it has proven to be a really good pocket knife.  In fact, I consider it to be my "lucky" pocket knife. 

One of the reasons I consider it lucky is because I've never lost it in 38 years. That knife has been on many camping, backpacking and fishing trips. Also, anytime I'm doing a project or chore around the house, I automatically drop that knife in my pocket, because I always know there is some unforeseen tool that I will need. It always comes in handy, and I was just using it the other day when I was building a gate.

That knife has seen some action, and it has some nicks and dings, but it still works as good as the day I bought it. Even though its a cheap knife, it has proven itself through use and reliability, and I've never worried about losing it, since it was cheap.

I was thinking about this the other day, and realized I didn't even know who made it. I had always just assumed it was a knock-off. I looked at the blade stamp and saw that it's an Elinox. I went on line and started researching authentic Swiss Army Knives. They are made by Victorinox and Wenger. Elinox was made by Victorinox in the seventies and was their bargain priced version.  They are now rare collectibles! So all this time, I HAVE had an authentic Swiss Army Knife and didn't know it!

It is truly a lucky knife.

For Mil's Place

by Brian Moore

6-11-13

****30*****

ATTIC DECORATORS, PART TWO

Hooray, the pizza is done, and hope
You don't mind a paper plate.
I got the idea from watching women! LOL
Here's a surprise for you---a big twelve ounce
Bottle of NEHI  grape!!!
Am I good host...or WHAT?!!

Yum, yum! Good pizza, eh?
Say, I hope you don't mind if I put
A Willie Nelson CD on my K Mart-special
Compact disc player.
Don't you love "Always On My Mind?"

Next time you come, we'll have corn dogs
For our lunch up here
and put on Kenny Rogers singing
"You gotta know when to hold 'em..."
And who knows...maybe some NEHI big orange drinks...

What I wanted to talk with you about this time
Is likely gonna happen just in our imaginations.
But suppose we were young again, with
all that energy and drive...

With all your vast knowledge of your "Junque" hobby
And my study of attics---we could start ourselves
a business as ATTIC DECORATORS!
Don't laugh, it'd be a piece of cake for us, and
you've "probly" got lots of stuff stored somewhere
In your secret warehouse!

See, there are all these young couples with money

"out there..."

building big houses with huge attics!
Why over there in Amarillo, I can show you
a pitched-roof that is so big and tall that the story is:
The guy has a gymnasium under there.

Lots of these people are really "at sea," not knowing what to do;
They haven't yet amassed all the great junk that they
will have someday. We could do the job!

How does this sound? "MIL-BOB BELFRYS"---
Or "MIL-BOB ATTIC DECORATORS?"
Slogan: "Are you empty upstairs? We have the answer!"

Now I have done some reading and thinking on the subject!
If we were serious, we'd  need a buyer
Who travels to antique and military surplus stores

and buys the kind of things we need---

I have made a rough list of the general type stuff
We'd want for attics!

Here it is, jotted down:
Kid's colorful riding horse, dress-maker dummies,
Churns, old Electrolux vacuum cleaners, rocking chairs,
Cots or half-beds  and quilts, wall pennants, old leather
suitcases, and briefcases, antique paintings.

Every attic seems to have stacks of National Geographics
or Reader's  Digest Condensed Books. Good also would
be any taxidermied deer heads, or stuffed pheasants or ducks.
Pictures or paintings of jumping bass or trout are big! BIG!
Also a brace of green head mallards flying by,
And the biggie: a photo of a couple of green-winged teal, whizzing
by at eighty miles per hour, over a mountain lake!

Attics need also old nailed-together rough wood, rustic
bookshelves, work bench, or an old desk with atmosphere.

Recliners are unsurpassed, with rustic Ottomans!

You'll need kitchen stuff, like goblet glasses, old 

knives and forks, microwave, toaster oven---all antique;
Little old fridges from office days...and a coffee pot from
the fifties.

Isn't there an old adage that says: "If you've never dined

in an attic, you've never really dined!" If there wasn't 

such an adage before, there is NOW!" LOL.

Gum ball machines and pop corn poppers of some kind
are great! And a TV, with a little DVD player in the bottom.
Doesn't have o be expensive or new...

Good for the wall, also are IWO JIMA flag-raising posters;

Doolittle's plane taking off on the Tokyo Raid.

Big portraits of great Americans, scattered  around...are good.
John Wayne, Ronald Reagan, Gregory Peck. Chesty Puller,
Charleton Heston (Moses), Dwight David Eisenhower, and
Abraham Lincoln.

 I like historical documents, like those weathered-looking ones
 you see, of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights!

Oh, oh, Bob, someone will want a picture or two of a

female person, around somewhere in their attic! 

When visiting Junque sales, keep an eye out for

Scarlet O'Hara or Kate Smith pictures! Stuff like that...

Kate Smith

I find that when I sit in my attic...or read about attics...
Or see pictures of attics, and all that old stuff---
The history of people's lives...
It kinda smoothes out the wrinkles
in my mind!

Oh I know, Bob, we'll probably never do our
attic business, but it is fun to think about it,
anyway! Of course if you see any of these
things on the attic list somewhere at a steal,
Grab it and store it in your warehouse,
Don't buy any churns, I have plenty of those!

Oh, and I guess we could call our Attic-
Decorating-Venture "BOB-MILS,"
if you'd be happier!

Have another twelve ounce NEHI GRAPE
while we talk? Prop your feet up?

*******30******
BY Mil
5/21/13
(For Marcia, who also loves attics!)

THE ATTIC DECORATORS

*******************************************
OLD ADAGE---"If it's worth owning once, then for heaven's sake, it's worth keeping always!"
************************ *******************

On a recent cold, breezy spring day
Coupla weeks ago, I was up in my attic.
Doing a little "clean-o;"
(I had the old Electrolux going...
I had discovered that it would work
If you'd "duct tape" the electric
Cord at a weird angle; it'd then function!)
And downstairs I heard the wife shout:
"It's Country Boy Bo-o-ob---he's he-er-ere!"

"C'mon up Bob! I'm glad to see you!
Was just thinkin' about you!
I'll tell you all about it!"

Well, as you can see
I'm caught up in
The "old-house-cleaning-in-the-attic
thing."

I shoulda known this was comin'---
I've had too many visitors
Who've heard of my cozy attic
And want to see it...and get me to talking;
See, my mouth "run's off"
When I'm up here in attic heaven
And I "tell my guts,"
As my mama used to say!

So the wife sees all those visitors,
coming and going, and ergo, decides
"You've got to clean your attic, Buster!"
We old married men know: when they
Say "Buster," they mean business!

C'mon over here, Bob---
You take the rockin' chair again...
Please don't step on those Lincoln Logs
And my Tinkertoy windmill;
You see---and this is silly I know,
But one really cold day last winter
I got to remembering when I was
ten years old---and in La Casita school
and got sick---and had to stay home.

As I was remembering old times
I felt a little puny anyway
So I decided to recreate those times
from grade school
Up here in my attic.
I mean, we can't waste these toys, can we?
They need a workout too, now and then!

So I threw a couple of chunks of wood
Into my little woodstove,
(It gets hot quickly)
And I dug out of the little fridge---
A big twelve ounce bottle of NEHI grape.
Couldn't afford those two dollar
DELAWARE PUNCHES from Old Mexico,
Anymore.

Then I proceeded to just dump my Lincoln Logs
Right on my beautiful wood floor...
(Nicer than most attics!)
The Tinkertoys followed!
Then I GOT DOWN THERE---right with 'em!
O, I felt ten years old again (mentally anyway)
And back in the forties! It was grand!

I was just a little ticked, however
When finishing my log cabin---
Someone, over the years
Had lost my "ten by" log,
Equivalent in carpenter-talk
to a thirty foot log.
That's why my cabin is sagging.

Bob, have you ever noticed
Since you got grown
How funny Tinkertoy windmills look?

Well, it was fun anyway,
Tho' I was slightly admonished
By the wife.
See, I called her on our new smart phones---
My ring on her phone is: "quack, quack, quack."
(When she hears that "quack-quack,"
it'd better be good!)
I said: "Help, help! Help me up!"

 (Off the floor!)

She said: "Okay, but the next time it'll be
911 for you, Buster!"
(Uh-oh, there's that Buster again.)

You know, it's no wonder
people like attics!
In a world with crazy stuff
Going on every day,
I can come up here, read a favorite book,
Watch an old movie, do some writing
at that old beat up desk, or take a nap!

On a windy day, the old mulberry branch
makes rubbing noises against the house and it's
Almost like it is scratching your back!

And there's something special about attic light;
It seems like it has been filtered...it is a gentle light
Spilling in the window, like a reverent spotlight,
Bathing every piece of the  stuff of your life...
With nice light and memories...
Every piece has a story!

Over there in the corner, Dad's old canvas
Hunting and fishing coat---once an olive drab color---
Now faded---is folded and lying on his old
Once silver-colored metal (beat-up) fishing tackle box.

One day, when he was about eighty-five
He said to me: "My lawn guy wants to buy
my fishing tackle; if you want any of it first,
it's out in the garage."

Bob, I'll tell you, The lawn guy had slim pickins'
For I loaded up most of it myself,
even the minnow bucket!
That tackle box---that was once so pristine
and shiny silver...
is now dented, deformed, discolored, stained,
and I think that's dried mud all over it!

I'll tell you, you've got to be a serious fisherman
To own a miraculous veteran-of-a-tackle-box
like that one!

You ought to see the interior---
It's piled up with all manner
of lures, plugs, spoons and flies...
Almost as if you saw a storm coming
Maybe with lightning,
and you clipped off your hooks
into the tackle box---quickly---
And left your stream in a hurry.

Dad's is the tackle box of a fisherman
Known all over Clovis as a pro.
He fished everywhere--- Conchas Lake,
Sumner Lake, Elephant Butte, the Pecos,
Tres Ritos, Lake Powell and Falcon Lake in Texas.
His nickname was "Willie."
They'd ask down at Murray's Sporting Goods:
"Is Willie catching anything at.........?"

Watch your face, over his tackle box!
From the ceiling are hanging, hook to hook
six or eight bass plugs of all kinds, and
mostly beat-up and heavily used.
The  golden Panther Martin hanging at the bottom
at the bottom is mine. I caught a twenty-three inch
trout on that lure at Havilland Lake, Co.
in 1976!

Bob, you of all people know what seeing
Bass plugs does to one's psyche
And blood pressure! LOL!

Well, it's time for us to eat---
The bad news is---we can't have
any more sardines and onions.
Someone, higher up, has banned them
from the attic---and the house, forever.
The smell, after our last attic session
Was just too much!

All this, in spite of my proof and documentation
That they're the most nourishing single food
In the world!

The good news is that the wife bought us
an Amy's pizza...one of my favorites.
It's just right for two, and watch...
It fits right in to my old discarded kitchen toaster
sitting over here on my workbench.

Watch this, Bob. I 'm adding this tiny jar 

of mushrooms, all over the top

of our Amy's...and some extra cheese!

Whaddya' think!?

Sent from my iPad