During the past weeks I’ve become addicted to C-Span, a public- affairs TV station originating in Congress. Each morning “Washington Journal” features a guest, usually a member of Congress, who fields phone calls. If you’re a Democrat, use this number; if Republican, dial this number, etc.
    No matter what Republican guest appears, Democrat callers are sure to attack the war in Iraq. Similarly, Republican callers have a weakness for Democratic jugulars. And so it went this week, when a caller asked, rhetorically, “Why do you hate Bush?” “Why are all Democrats cowards?” and “Don’t you realize that criticism of the war on ‘tear’ demoralizes our troops and emboldens the enemy?”

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A Super Bowl Sunday event that took place 31 years ago and involved the abduction of half a dozen hostages, threats at gunpoint, evasive driving, hordes of police and an attempted suicide, has made indelible impressions on the lives of several of those involved in it.

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    Art Abreu was head coach in the early ‘90s when the Robertson High School football Cardinals traveled to Lovington to take on the Wildcats. Abreu’s players lost 40-22. Although many New Mexico players may think of having gone against Brian Urlacher — even to have been pureed by the future Pro Bowler — he wasn’t a factor as a skinny eighth-grader or freshman player for the Wildcats. Continue reading →

A few years ago, before caller ID, I got a call from a young woman seeking donations to Highlands University for scholarships. Why was I suspicious? Well, for starters, she asked to speak to Mr. True-Jill- oh. I’ve pointed out in previous columns that the unusual Anglicizing of my name has its benefits, as it provides reasonable assurance that the caller is up to selling something or asking for a donation to some charity. Continue reading →

Isn’t it amazing what people can do with words? Try speaking the following string of words: the teacher said the student is a fool. Most people, taking these words in order, and without compunction or punctuation, would assume the teacher holds the student in low esteem. But dolly up the sentence with commas and quotation marks and you have the opposite meaning: “The teacher,” said the student, “is a fool.” Guess which pupil qualifies for semester-long blackboard-cleaning duty.

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    A couple of photos in this week’s Optic provide proof that Christmas comes but once a year, for little ones and loved ones dear. Even if it comes late.
    My first glance at the Christmas gift-tendering photos convinced me that the photographer, Don Pace, had forgotten to develop the photos in a timely matter. But “develop” dates me, way back to the middle 1950s, when I used to “soup” black-and-white film in the Optic darkroom.     Continue reading →

    This installment more properly ought to be titled “Work of Art(‘s Son).” Having learned that there have been 205 such columns, my son Stan, on vacation from his job in Denmark, asked me to turn the keyboard over to him. I can use the break but take no responsibility for any correct spelling, punctuation or coherence his contribution may contain.
    During the ‘80s, Joe and Ginger were a common sight in town. She pushed the shopping cart, heavily loaded but neatly packed with bags and boxes. He always led the way, usually by about 10 feet. Ginger was drab and ordinary looking; her demeanor was quiet and polite. In contrast, Joe was intense, both in appearance and behavior. Continue reading →

    Could Kim Holland have been right? Kim, a reporter for Albuquerque TV channel 13, KRQE, was on the air when she pronounced the name of a state policeman, Pacheco as “Pu-cheek-oh.”
    In my last column, I had a lot of fun citing instances in which our surnames get murdered. At a party, I met sisters Alice and Donna Menzor, who commiserated and said they too had heard many variations on Hispanic last names. Continue reading →

    Late last Wednesday I was writing an e-mail to a friend and half-listening to the TV news when I was jolted by a sound that wasn’t pretty. The noise startled me in the same way one starts when hearing a sonic boom or a ‘copter flying overhead — an increasingly common occurrence.
    I had the feeling my Optic colleague, my partner in muckraking, David Giuliani, heard the same sound, even though he lives three miles away.
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    It all started with a photo in the Journal of a kid camped outside an electronics store in Albuquerque. He literally was camped out, determined to be the first to purchase his own version of PlayStation3.

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