This end-of-the-year column provides an opportunity to catch up on correspondence, compliments, digs, suggestions and much more.Several people provided feedback on a recent column on growing up in Las Vegas in the ‘50s and being harassed by neighborhood toughs who thought of me as a rich boy.
Richard Lindeborg, who reminded me that Seventh Street Extension, which was scarcely a part of the incorporated city in those days, had its own gangs.
But according to Lindeborg, Commerce Street had tougher gang members than Railroad. I never thought of making such a comparison. My Optic route included the 6- through 13-hundred blocks of Pecos and Commerce, just east of Railroad, where I grew up.
I never went face to face with any of the known gang members on those streets, but my bike was faster than their legs.
Lupita Gonzales, a twice-retired local teacher who grew up in Gallup, e-mailed to remark on the coincidences between the neighborhood of her youth, and mine. At the time, Gallup’s North Side had its share of gang members who lived in a neighborhood referred to as “Chihuahuita.”
Referring to the notion that I was part of a rich Trujillo family, John Gallegos of Las Vegas noted that riches and poverty are relative. Gallegos said he had cousins on First Street who he believed to be rich.
Why? “Well, they had indoor plumbing,” as opposed to a “cajete,” a tub which John’s family used for bathing.
My childhood home had only one bathroom, with a tub whose hot water came through pipes heated on our coal-and-wood stove. A conventional water heater didn’t appear until some of us Trujillos were in our teens.
In a previous column I mentioned the distinction of having been inside virtually every house in my neighborhood. It’s amazing that in those days there was absolutely no consideration of social status, at least on my part. But looking back, I now understand how some neighbors may have perceived my family as “uppity” because our house was tidy, painted and our lawns were cut.
One person asked whatever happened to Carlos, one of the gang members who communicated with others through Tarzan-like howls. He passed away, as did many in my barrio. Some died in their thirties and forties.
A column, “An 82-cent misunderstanding,” contained the words “apolonation” and “explalogy,” as a cute way of torturing “apology” and “explanation.” To this, Ed Littleton, from Ocate, wrote, “I find your 82-cent misunderstanding too convolusing or confuluted (not sure which) for words.”
Let’s be glad Ed made himself perfectly clear.
And Ray Litherland asked me to lend him 82 cents to help gas up his car. But isn’t it the other way around? Bankers should be lending, not borrowing.
Earlier this year a column centered on a former Highlands student, Mark, who’d grown disillusioned after being kicked off his high school team for admitting he’d imbibed the night before a championship game. Mark said the consequences would have been more palatable if some of his teammates hadn’t lied, denying they’d had drinks, and been allowed to play in the season finale.
Mack Crow of Las Vegas wrote, “You hit the nail on the head! For several years I taught and coached JV and several times came up against the situation you described. I, like you, have no clear, definitive answer. I have seen the just be punished and the cheats be rewarded. Sometimes ‘justice’ is not in this lifetime.”
Crow added that the column “was painfully honest, and one that people in authority must struggle with all the time.”
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Some random thoughts and wishes for the new year:
• Less weight. I’m tired of having to report increasing tonnage under my photo each week. I have no one but myself to blame.
• The discipline to make something of piano lessons I’ll be resuming with Fred Salas as the teacher.
• Advancing the Bank of Las Vegas time-and-temperature sign by six minutes so the bank can greet the new year on time, not at 12:06 a.m. Jan. 1.
• Stopping the gloating. We realize the Serf did host the New Mexico premiere of “No Country for Old Men.” That was six weeks ago, on Nov. 14. It’s time to update the marquee already.
• The ability for everyone who speaks into store intercoms to say “jewel-ree,” not “joo-lery.
• Elocution lessons for our president, who after more than six years on the job, keeps saying “nuke-ya-ler.”
• Correctness on Las Vegas City Schools’ reader boards. For several days recently the high-tech message board has shown a discrepancy of several hours. And once, in a salute to ELV athletes, the message was “Your the best.” On the field, perhaps, but not necessarily in spelling classes.
And a similar sign outside Memorial Middle School currently carries the message: “Season’s Greeting’s.” I’ll bet conscientious English teachers like Theresa Lucero and Ed King weren’t responsible for the gratuitous apostrophe in “greetings.”
Have a great new year, all you reader’s. Your the best!