THE THINGS AT MIL'S WRITING PLACE

---Oil cloth cover, with cheerful fruits and flowers...

---Two small "credenzas" with little drawers...

---Atomic clock...

---several scissors, various sizes

---Scotch tape, masking tape, duct tape

---Band Aids and rubber bands

---a shoe spoon and back scratcher

---magnifying glass

---a small orange sucker, from hearing aid place

---a miniature peanut butter Snicker

---Cross "rolling ball" pens, with real ink refills

---black and red Sharpies

---spiral phone number book

---Staples 5 1/2 X 7 1/2 white legal pads

---holder full of 4 X 6 cards

---some meds

---small yellow-handled reversible screwdriver

---small pliers, made (where else) in China

---stapler 

---Norelco electric shaver (dull)

---handy little Kleenex box of tissues

---small binoculars

---assorted ballpoints

---a small peanut butter Snicker

---two six inch straight edges

---desk calendar showing June 2016

---camp spoon, small can of Van Camp's beans

---half-full Whataburger coffee mug, cold

---can of SPAM, for atmosphere

---SNOOPY, wearing a winter knit cap

---envelopes full of old photos

---a Swiss Army knife

---tortoise comb

---stack of writings

---bottle of leather balm for Mini-Apple case

---Deluxe poems and photos of Robert Service

---"William Wordsworth, Selected Poetry"

---pack of Trident chewing gum, made in England

---nearby, two bookshelves---top shelf covered 

     with animals...A Moose, A "Buffler," a duck

     decoy, a camel, a lounging frog, "Gus," my

      symbolic MIL'S PLACE pig, dozens of tiny

      gift animals; & "Jeremiah," the Meditating Frog

      down at the end of the top shelf, by the 

      Globe of the World...

---not least...a miniature  5x5 stained-glass 

     window, the BIBLE, and a 1957 Hymnal---

     all to ever point me upward...

How can one help but write...with all these

wonderful aids?!

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

BY MIL

9/23/16

"THE LAST ALARM CLOCK"

THE QUIETEST PLACE IN THE WORLD,
SUNDAY MORNING AT FIVE A.M.?

A BOYS' COLLEGE  DORM

I know, because an awful alarm clock awoke me

there in my Hardin-Simmons University dorm

room---a brand new dorm on the south side of

the campus---every Sunday morning at five a.m.

Struggling to wake up, get a cold shower, dress

and head off to FBC, Ozona , a hundred-fifty

miles southwest, to lead the music in church 

services there---I looked longingly at my cozy

bed---still warm---and I thought: "I'll see you 

again after nineteen hours!"

Those were the days! After following this regimen

through the fall of '54 and the spring of '55 and

graduating in May from HSU, I said "Never again

in my life will I ever use an alarm clock!" 

I may have looked like Scarlett in GWTW, if I

raised my fist to heaven (as she did when she 

swore not to  starve.) 

But it is true, one can get along without them, and

I cannot ever remember using one since. "The Last

Alarm Clock," for me, anyway. 

There were a few times I didn't want to go. After

all, driving a hundred-fifty miles on Sunday morning 

with no breakfast was not a great plan in my

twenty-one year old sleepy mind. Not to even

mention that my great Saturday nights were...only

memories.

The first leg of that journey was ninety miles to

the SW on Highway X (Note, some guys rattle off

highway numbers "to beat sixty;" not me---I just

want to be on the right road, whatever its number.)

to San Angelo.

Luckily there was a blinking caution light fifty miles

down the road at (Greater) Bronte, and a good truck

stop cafe, usually with several truckers sitting at the

counter.

If I was running a bit ahead of schedule, I'd get out

and go in and sit a jaw a bit with those guys---after

all, I had been a wild and wooly wheat trucker at age

fifteen back in '49, and I could see their envy of me

and respect, when I told them.

Usually though I was running late and just grabbed

a danish and coffee in a paper cup and was outta

there and back on the road in three minutes, with

just a nod to my ilk.

 I always just breezed through SanAngelo. You can
 lose a lot of time going through big towns. But for
some reason I had a kind of fondness for Mertzon,
a little town 35 miles west.

(Have you ever noticed (and this is true) anytime

anyone  mentions Mertzon, they always say:

"Mertzon, do you know where it is?")

I always bought gasoline there...enough to finish

the whole trip. My trusty beloved 1948 Chevrolet

got good gas mileage and my driving speed was 

usually about sixty.

Another 30 miles west to Barnhart, and I turned

left and south another 25 miles to Ozona and 

paralleled the big arroyo that severely flooded 

everything in that area in '54 and was still a tender 

subject with the people. Sixteen people were killed

and "half the homes in town damaged."

There is a square in town with a magnificent 

Crockett County courthouse, a Crockett County

Museum, and a statue of Davy Crockett.

Crockett County is one of the nation's leading

producers of wool and mohair. Hunters flock

to the area in season for deer, javelina, and 

game birds. The 2010 census  listed Ozona's 

population at 3,225.

I tried to arrive by 9:30 a.m. and get everything 

checked out...music ready  and choir warmed-up

...and find a cup of coffee in the church kitchen. 

After church it was always the happy time of going

to a member's home for fried chicken or a good

pot roast, a nap in their spare bedroom,

or on a church pew.

Then it was a burger at the little cafe on the highway,

heading west out of town...choir practice...evening

service... youth fellowship and by nine p.m. I was

headed north for Barnhart.

When I hit San Angelo around ten-thirty I always

bought a 32 ounce coke, or whatever, so there'd

be  enough ice to eat and keep me awake that last

ninety miles back to HSU.

Arriving back at the school, all the boys who had

churches congregated in Ken's room and had 

laughs, told stories, and blew off steam...a hard 

day over...

They paid $50.00 a week, which was pretty good 

pay for the time, a lot of cash for a college boy!

Several of us always met down at Mack Eplen's 

Cafeteria for a nice lunch on Mondays at noon.

In those happy times one could get chicken fried

steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans,

friend okra, a slice of corn bread, and pecan pie

for about $1.90. That's what we did. Almost ev'ry

Monday!

But I must level with you...one of my worst memories

of life...is having that alarm clock go off in my ear

every Sunday morning...signaling nineteen hours

of hard work. I was only human...

So no more alarm clocks ever for me, if I can 

help it...yes...The Last Alarm Clock.

(I loved the people, was glad to sing the

gospel, and was grateful for a job.)

***********

BY MIL

HSU '55

11-6-16

THE TOMATOES WILL SOON....BE GONE

those marvelous

     bright red shiny

plump juicy tomatoes

     of summer

are almost all

     gone

except for a

     few

lingering

     green ones

the election is

     over

and so will

     be

the tomatoes.   

     soon

a freeze is 

     coming

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

BY MIL

11/10/16 ....0906

A POEM WRITTEN,

    in the style 

of William Carlos Williams

    the "Physician Poet"

(photo by Mil)

MY GRANDDOG IS OKAY

My granddog probably

     has 

less guile than

     most

human beings

And, check this

     he is a

thinker...

     always

pondering the things

      of life

Or maybe he is just

     always on the

          lookout

for "skwer-ruhls"

(just say that word

      the right way

and he at once

      goes to

FULL ALERT)

How gentle golden retrievers

     are

and "personable"

Just bring him a

     big rawhide

          bone

from Target and sit back

     and watch

For

    you have created a

        "social occasion"

almost unsurpassed by

     dog standards

he will take the delightful

     treat in his jaws

             and

go spinning around the

      room in circles,

all the while making

     joyous grunts,

swishing his furry tail

     knocking things

over, something awful

and settling down for his

     big treat, gnawing...

all as if to say---

     "celebrate this 

joyous time with me!"

Ah, but no dog 

     is perfect

Remember the Christmas

     when he ate the

thirty-five dollar

      special Holiday Delight

white-frosted cake

     from Whole Foods

while the family sang

      carols around the

piano?

There was no denying

     his guilt---his face

was white with

     frosting.

With his special 

    red cap,

he was wearing

     he looked like...

a dog Santa

     white beard

and all...

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

MI

11/1516

Photo by Kindell Brinay

     

WEATHERING OUR FIRST BIG 2016 FALL STORM....IN THE ATTIC

The usual autumn storm finally hit us, up 

here on the high mesa...at 5800 feet and

five miles from Sandia Peak. It came early

November, as if it had been delayed for a

time up north, somewhere.

You can enjoy your attic at any time--if it

is filled with good books, old John Wayne

and Gene Autry movies (plus the entire 

collection of MASH, which we have)---but 

attics are best on cold, stormy, snowy days.

What makes storms so great is "Nature's

Imagination." They're all different, every 

single one. Some rain, some sleet, some 

hail, and some snow. Just about all of 'em

come with high winds---rattling the eaves,

the curtains , the vents, moaning through

windows left ajar...and with us, our trash can

lid blows all over our double-driveway, as if a 

lost cymbal, looking for its orchestra!

And a storm wouldn't be a decent storm if

our pesky long mulberry branch didn't whop

against the house, almost in rhythm, in the 

wind. (B.E. says: "If you don't trim that big 

branch off the tree, it's going to damage the 

house." I tell her: "You don't understand, it 

complements the storm and and is all a "part

of the plan.")

"Remember Kurt Wallander, the Swedish 

detective, and HIS pesky branch that 

whopped his rented apartment wall, during 

vicious Sweden northers!," I tell her. "Don't

you recall how it made the storms--great?!"

Now this thing started a day or two ago, 

with a cool breeze coming up, gently 

swaying the trees, the little bushes, the 

tomato vines, and the wind chimes were

playing...almost like an intro to the 

symphony which was coming...

Then Joe on Channel Seven forecast an

extensive wind warning, lasting 24 hours;

wind would be coming through Tijeras 

Canyon at up to 55 mph! Heavy rains were

to be expected.

It's Saturday now, wind still blowing big-time,

and I am up here our attic, a couple of small 

cedar logs are popping merrily along in the 

little wood stove (which is so efficient, it's 

supposed to heat a house.)

This cozy place was cleaned up by me in 

September. Then I could hardly wait until cold

weather. I washed and aired some of the quilts,. 

I vacked every corner and under the 3/4 GI bed. 

I even scarfed that feather thing that BE uses to 

dust and tried it on the books and pictures on 

the wall, but I think an oily rag would be better... 

and more masculine.

Did I tell you that my "larder" up here, usually 

full of hunter/fisherman/outdoorsmen---healthful

snacks---has become sorely depleted over last

winter and through the summer.

You see, friends  drop by and say "We have read 

all your attic stories and we don't have an attic.

Could we just sit a spell up there and read, or 

nap an hour on you great bed, with those famous 

quilts?"

What can you do? Also guests would rather stay 

up there on the 3-4 bed, (with all the books and 

movies, and snacks---I have one of those little B&W 

TV's with a place in the bottom to insert DVD's) 

than in a regular BR downstairs...

I've figured it out! That's where my snacks---

Snapples, Ritz crackers, Jif Crunchy, Vienna 

sausages, (ketchup), sardines, tamales, Wolf

Chili, cashews (in the big jars from Costco),

trail mix (covered with melted garlic butter),

popcorn, and black elephant toe bread from

Trader Joes has been going!! They're filling 

up on it!

It's those pesky "friends," who "drop in," to

spend time...or the night! It's all coming to a

halt!

Now, my place has been restocked at heavy 

expense. Delaware punches are two bucks 

each, from Old Mexico. Diet Snapple iced tea

bottles are high now...Rush did such a good 

job advertising 'em. 

Two cans of SPAM sit prominently in the shelf 

for all to see, for if conversation lags, you can 

almost always get a rise by asking "How do 

you like your SPAM?"

Yes, sitting blissfully here at my garage sale 

table, breathing it all in...and pondering...you 

don't need big fancy mansions to be happy...

good books, warm quilts, great snacks and

beverages wil do it!

The rain late this Saturday is now pouring 

down! And what's that loud roar on the roof?

Wow,  it's hailing big time. It's splattering against

the window. I look out and the ground is white!

What a storm! In an attic, things hitting the roof

are twice as loud.

Someone is coming up the stairs. It's BE! She 

"loves a good storm" almost as much as Wylie's 

mother. "It's hailing, it's hailing," she cried, and

left to watch downstairs.

How nice, I thought. I may just crawl under a quilt

and get that Faulkner book from under the bed---

the one I started last year and never finished---

and just read a spell...and maybe fall asleep.

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

BY MIL

11-06-16

THE WONDERS OF THE SONORAN DESERT

THE WONDERS OF THE SONORAN DESERT

          ....by E. Levi Brake

I've been back down here in Ajo for a few weeks now and have been truly enjoying the warm weather.  It was getting just a tad too chilly for my old bones up there in Prescott Valley, at about the same elevation as you are in Albuquerque.  The morning temperatures were down awfully close to the 30s and I suspect, very similar to what you're having in your neck of the woods.  But it's easy to tell that winter's on the way here In Ajo.  The daily highs are in the low to mid-90s and the nights are down in the 60s. 

The first morning I was here I went out into the arroyo to scatter some feed for the quail and there was not a bird to be seen anywhere.  They must have found the feed during the day though, because the next morning just before full daylight I went out and I could hear them chattering away in the brush.  Not two minutes after I came back in there were at least 30 of them partaking of their "manna" and they've been back every morning since.  I haven't yet seen many doves but they'll figure it out soon.  There were the usual several cottontails competing with the quail for the feed.

I've been serenaded every evening by a coyote singing his yip-yipping song from across the arroyo.  He (or she) always sounds like he's just outside my window.  We'll have a bobcat patrolling the arroyo when the rabbits start reproducing fast enough.  Old bobcat will stay in the arroyo long enough to make sure he's got the rabbit population reduced to where he thinks it should be and then he'll leave for a while and come back later to resume his patrol.  Once in a while during the winter we'll see a wily fox hanging around, but not often.

The amount, and the variety of wildlife in this part of the Sonoran Desert always causes me to marvel at the diversity of Mother Nature.  Some of the best and sleekest-looking deer I've ever seen somehow live and do well in this old desert. 

The javelina that normally live out away from town learned over time that they can also do quite well in town, so we just have to put up with them.  They are the ugliest, most foul-smelling and pestiferous creatures I have ever known.  They so resemble a domestic pig that local folks typically refer to them as such even though they're not even distantly related.  In fact, they are a peccary.  

They are almost blind but have an extremely sensitive sense of smell.  They are tusked and will defend their young vigorously if they feel threatened.  The males have a musk gland that can produce the worst smell I've ever experienced.  Their flesh is edible, but just barely, so most people that hunt them during the season do it just for sport.  Years ago when I lived in Superior, AZ, there was an old Mexican lady who could make a pretty tasty red chili using javelina meat, but she is the only person I've know who could.

Of course there are the snakes, and the one most talked about is the diamondback rattler.  Although there are many different kinds of snakes here I think the rattler is the only poisonous one, but I could be wrong.  Many varieties of lizards exist in the desert, some of which can be up to four feet in length.

Not being an expert I won't even try to list the hundreds of varieties of plant life.  Just about everything that grows has thorns or some other means to protect itself not just from humans, but from other animals which would feed on it.  The most conspicuous plants are the cacti, chief among which is the tall, stately saguaro.  The skeleton of an old saguaro has been standing behind my place for an untold number of years but this year I see it has been knocked down, likely from javelina which seemed to enjoy scratching their hides by rubbing against it. 

The common trees are mesquite, palo verde, ironwood, and cat claw and they grow mostly in and around the washes.  During the summer monsoon season these washes, or arroyos, will sometimes run bank to bank with water, but only for a short time and then they revert to their more natural dry state.

There are a number of old abandoned mines out in the desert, none of which ever produced much except blood, sweat and tears.  The exception is the big open-pit copper mine operated here for many years by Phelps-Dodge Mining Co.  Nearly all the old mining folks are either dead or have moved away by now and most of the current residents are either retired, working in one of the local stores, or providing services for the townspeople.  This is a quiet, laid-back lifestyle and I suppose that's why I like it.

    ---30---

   FOR MIL'S

    By E. Levi Brake, CHS '51