It’s hard to remember being so affected by a single, simple — even stupid — incident. True, I’ve spent sleepless nights over the death of a loved one, such as Mom and Dad or other close relatives and friends.

But what about days of fretting over the death of someone I never met, was never likely to meet — in fact over someone whose name before her death might have been known by only half a hundred people.

Of course, I refer to the sudden death last week of Lilly Garcia, shot dead by a participant in a road rage incident in Albuquerque. To me, the publicity on TV and the newspapers over this 4-year-old’s senseless murder ranks in import along with the assassination of President John F. Kennedy 52 years ago.

Yes, Lilly’s death is as vivid to me now as was Kennedy’s death 52 years ago, when I was living in Gallup, a reporter for a newspaper, the Independent. Continue reading →

What? Playboy’s becoming sanitized. Thus read the headline in one of countless newspapers and magazines over Hugh Hefner’s decision to stop featuring nudes in the publication that spurred the nudity trend on Dec. 1, 1953, with a revealing photo of Marilyn Monroe.

Playboy, “the magazine that men read for its intelligent articles (the daring photos of women being purely incidental), has decided to cover up feminine attributes. Hefner’s plan to pitch the pulchritude is probably predicated by the plentitude of provocative poses on our PC. Wrrronngg. (More on that in a few paragraphs).

Yes, Playboy, the magazine that men often hid in their sock drawer, only to be discovered by their adolescent sons, ostensibly so the boys could read the well-written articles, is changing and soon will be rated PG-13.

But first, let me explain that I have had a tangential connection to Hefner’s publication; I once entered the Chicago Playboy Mansion on business. Essentially, a co-worker, a man I considered a great people photographer, was being considered for a job with Playboy — not to photograph the models for the centerfold or adjoining pages, but to develop the color film of the models. My friend, with whom I’d performed newspaper work, indicated he’d more willingly take the job if I were to be his assistant. Continue reading →

A sizeable pothole near a crosswalk at the Behavioral Health Institute is large enough to cause serious damage. The hole is about 15 by 15 inches, but the worrisome aspect of the hole is its depth, possibly four inches.

Beneath the four inches of asphalt rests a small, round manhole cover, which was probably accessed to address a recent water or sewer issue. Most of the traffic simply straddles the hole, but if motorists aren’t extremely observant, there’s a great chance they’ll face some tire and some serious front-end repairs. Worse, it’s hard to imagine any biker retaining control after hitting that hole.

It’s clearly a danger; it’s unmarked and barely visible. Let’s hope crews fix the problem before serious injury or death results.

• • •

Every college has one. Highlands certainly did in the hiring in 1964, of John Adams as chairman of the English Department. I was in the first literature class he taught in the summer, and we English majors learned never to come to class unprepared. Adams, who passed away a few years ago, simply epitomized the notion that professors ought to have and maintain high standards. Continue reading →

This will be an audience-participation-type column in which readers will be invited to submit some of their own comments on how things used to be (and maybe still are).

The inspiration came from a web site that lists a number of things we were taught as children, things that were probably explained to us by our parents, who heard the same things from our grandparents, who in turn . . .

Get the picture? I write this in spite of the expected denials from members of the Trujillo family — my siblings, who have been prone to say, “That’s not the way I remember it.” Dorothy Maestas, in particular, often insists she and I must have grown up in different households.

But like a good umpire with 20-20 vision, “I call them as I see them.”

The web site I came across lists some behaviors near to many of us. One of them says that if you make yourself cross-eyed, there’s a good chance your eyes will remain in that position. I remember as a child doing that because it made my brothers and sisters laugh. And they’d encourage me to keep doing it. Then Mom stepped in with a strong admonition to stop it. How many readers learned that . . . and maybe even still believe it? Continue reading →

Occasionally in the news we come across an item that requires a re-read. Did I get that right? we ask.

A week ago there was an item in the Albuquerque Journal about a man — James Roger Madalena — the second-longest-serving member of the New Mexico Legislature, who asserted that he’d never read a particular document that relates to how a politician goes about receiving donations and what to do when he/she receives them.

Specifically, Madalena has joined several other lawmakers who — oh so suddenly — discovered that some of his campaign expenses might not have been legitimate, such as paying for a surgery copay, clothing, Internet service and for help for a needy family.

When confronted about the spurious spending, the 31-year House member first said, “In my years in our State Legislature I have never seen nor read our Campaign Reporting Act.

A few days later, he changed his story. It turns out he was a co-signer of the Campaign Reporting Act, and his hand-in-the-cookie-jar explanation was, “Of course I have read the Campaign Finance Reporting Act. In fact, I co-sponsored the Act.” Continue reading →

“Well, the traffic was bumper to bumper on the way to Santa Fe.” “There was practically a traffic jam with so many people parked by the side of the road, they almost needed a traffic cop.”

Obviously, the scene is along I-25, any day this month, as the piñon-picking ritual has arrived. The piñon crop, they say, comes once every seven years, and by the number of people who spread out sheets under trees and poke at branches, this year likely will produce a bumper crop. And I used to think a bumper crop referred to the way cars lined up along Rowe Mesa.

Watching hundreds of people — their cars and pickups parked haphazardly along the Interstate — gathering piñon made us recall what a popular, and healthful activity it is. And it’s a family occasion that brings memories.

But first, you decide who’s taking advantage of whom in this (annual and actual) scenario:

Let’s say we Trujillos are traveling in northern New Mexico in the fall and espy a family selling piñon by the roadside. Notice how the smaller Zip-Lock bag always contains precisely a pound of the nutty stuff, whereas the larger bag holds exactly two pounds. And it really doesn’t matter what’s inside the bags, be it cotton candy or lead pellets. Remember: A pound’s a pound the world ‘round. Continue reading →

Remember General Halftrack, the occasional character in the Beetle Bailey comic strip, who lamented being ignored, as he never seemed to get mail from the Pentagon? Remember Rodney Dangerfield, the comedian who “didn’t get any respect?”

Las Vegas, one of 104 incorporated communities in New Mexico, seldom gets acknowledgement and could reasonably compare itself to the general or to Dangerfield.

Let me explain:

Scores of movies in this natural film playground have been produced right here in town or its environs. The newish series, “Longmire,” has had many episodes produced here. Why, then, does the Albuquerque Journal keep failing to give us our due?

Let’s back up a few months, when the Journal printed a map of activities associated with communities throughout the state. On that map — as if some giant editor had taken a giant eraser and rubbed out a whole section — Las Vegas, Springer and Raton were missing, as nothing seems to exist between Santa Fe and the Colorado border. The map also snubbed Grants and Portales, both sizable cities. Continue reading →

Why am I pacing like an expectant father? Why do I wake up suddenly at night, look around to assure myself that our two “daughters” are safely ensconced in their beds?

Let me explain, and there’s much to explain:

By now, several of you may have read my Facebook post that explains my family’s hosting of two exchange students for the school year. They’re part of the AFS Intercultural Program that places students from other countries with American households.

Ana, a high school freshman from Madrid, Spain, and Phaedra, a senior from Belgium, will fly in to Albuquerque this week to become students at West Las Vegas High School.

And we’re told we’re the only family in Las Vegas this year to be hosting children through this program. Our family has only sons, grown sons; the closest beings in age and gender are our granddaughters, Carly and Celina, 15 and 13. They live next door and say they’ll enjoy showing Ana and Phaedra around. Continue reading →

When people my age were in school, the word processor consisted of 1) a pencil and 2) a piece of paper. Just like today’s computers and calculators, our tools of the ‘50s also had an “enter” and a “delete” function. They’re called lead and erasers.

When my sister, Bingy, and I were at Immaculate Conception School, we often shared a teacher, Sister Mary Matematica Primera, who dreamed nightly about the amount of arithmetic homework she was about to pile on.

Bingy and I had an advantage: We had a 50-some-year-old calculator we called Tío Juan, who could perform dazzling mental computations. His forte was in multiplying or dividing two digits by two digits. Anything larger took a bit longer.

Once, in front of some visiting I.C. schoolmates, Bingy set up Tío Juan to perform an arithmetic show-and-tell. She’d recite a host of equations for our uncle to solve. To the amazement of her classmates, Louise, Isabel, Agnes, Mary Rose and Joan, our uncle provided answers almost as quickly as he received them. Continue reading →

The cause of much consternation as we returned from our summer break to resume classwork at Immaculate Conception School in 1954 was whether the bulk we’d acquired during vacation had magically slipped away. That was the time we returned as freshmen to the homeroom of Sister Mary Missa Massa.

The baby fat we thought we’d exchanged for muscle just wasn’t there. Here’s what happened:

The closing of West Las Vegas High School created a spillover on the east side. Sure, then-Las Vegas High could have accommodated the transfers from west, but I suspect most of the Westsiders preferred I.C., which offered new students a chance to beef up our anemic athletic programs. It’s true that we already had a few good players, especially in basketball, but the addition of several from west of the Gallinas was I.C.-ing on the cake.

One of the new students was Ken Ludi. He and a few others impressed us regulars because of their size. Several of us wondered whether something the kids drank, on the other side of the Gallinas, gave them growth spurts. Kenneth, a fellow freshman, born in April, was two days younger than I. Why, therefore is there such a difference in size? And the size paid off. We wondered why Ken was able to throw a baseball much harder than the rest of us, and run faster, and catch fly balls better, and grab grounders better, and pitch better. Continue reading →