An exchange, ongoing for years, has caused me to run for the dictionaries, all because of a single word: assassinate.

Bruce Wertz, a clerk for the Las Vegas City Schools, has assured me he’s still alive by giving me an unusual answer as to his health. I’ll ask, “How you doing, Bruce?”

Invariably, he replies, “I’m OK. I haven’t been assassinated this week.” Then he tacks this on: “And if I had been, I wouldn’t be telling you about it now.” Really?

Let me digress:

I had a friend who once asked me, “Are you on the wagon?” Well, yes and no. It’s like asking, “Have you stopped beating your wife? Give a simple yes or no, please.” Continue reading →

It’s around this time of the year when people’s visits to doctors increase. And doctors often say such an increase is expected around the holidays. We overeat.

‘Twas the season to gormandize on turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, yams and the full spectrum of Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s edibles.

It’s impossible to visit anyone this season without being offered bizcochitos, usually made with real lard. On that note, I had a couple of visitors/relatives from California, who wanted to browse the Bridge Street area around Christmas. That was several years ago, when my friend Pete DuMont opened a bookstore-coffee shop on the south side of Bridge. My two guests inquired as to the ingredients. “We try our best not to consume any lard at all,” one of them pontificated.

Pete walked them to the front of the store. “See those viejitas on the sidewalk?” he asked, pointing to what looked like a church crowd, average age 80. They looked fit. “I’ll bet every one of them had lard in their diets most of their lives. And I’ll bet each of them eats bizcochitos made with pure lard.” Continue reading →

As a child, I’d spend a lot of time waiting for my dad to get off work at B.M. Werley Auto Co., then the Ford Dealership on Grand Avenue.

I knew all the front-office staff and most of those in the garage. Remember, in those days, new cars were guaranteed to break at least once on being driven for the first time. That kept the backshop full and the crew busy.

In the front were my dad, J.D., the owner, B.M. Werley and his son Jack, Ross Bancroft and Jess Gallegos. Once, in the parts department, in front, I noticed a typed poem that Jess or Ross had taped near the cash register.

It read in part:

I work behind the counter of an automotive store;
Sometimes I’m called a genius; sometimes I’m called much more.

It ended with: Continue reading →

Rather than attempt Comedy Central, let me explain that I have absolutely no talent when it comes to telling those long, drawn-out, elaborate situational anecdotes that require a series of repetitive remarks (“and then the genie asked the third man …) followed by a punchless line.

In fact, where there’s laughter in my environment, it’s usually the result of some slip of the tongue, a one-liner, or something serendipitous, in which people are laughing at me rather than with me. And that’s all right too.

Almost exactly 10 years after I first attempted a joke, I heard it again. Somehow, nobody laughed when I told it, but this time, when told by another, it was hilarious. Or so the laughers indicated. But that also could be the result of the boss-to-supplicant syndrome in which every joke the boss tell is hilarious.

But let’s move on (or, as politicians under indictment are wont to say, “I wish to move forward, put this behind me and admit that mistakes were made.” Or they might make statements to the press, saying Diane Denish’s loss to Susana Martinez “had nothing to do with the Richardson factor”). Continue reading →

Many people talked as if they’d never seen or felt anything like it. “This is the worst wind we’ve had,” was oft-repeated.

Remember, this is Las Vegas, where nobody remains unhappy about the weather, because it changes so often.

Where else can we have five consecutive days of dry, freezing cold, followed by two summer-like days, followed by winds up to 74 mph, and then a foot of snow? Winds between 74 and 95 mph constitute a Category 1 hurricane.

In one case, high winds deposited a house roof on to Seventh Street.

Did I mention it was windy Wednesday, so windy that several areas in and around town became powerless? And when did it happen that a power outage also cuts off the water?

Well, not one to exaggerate, I won’t say it was windy last week.
 It wasn’t really windy, but when I stepped on to my front porch for my copy of the Albuquerque Journal, there was a copy of the Los Angeles Times instead. Continue reading →

The world lost a bright, dedicated, articulate woman last week when Elizabeth Ed-wards died of breast cancer. She was the estranged wife of John Edwards, who appeared in Las Vegas in 2004, as the Democratic running mate of John Kerry.

John Edwards sought the presidential nomination in 2008 but lost to Barack Obama. One person who knew the late Mrs. Edwards well is Kate Lockwood, a nurse and massage therapist from Las Vegas.

In 2004, her photo appeared in the Optic, with her arm around Elizabeth Edwards. The two had known each other for years.

Here’s how:

In 1968 and 1969, Kate was a classmate of Elizabeth’s at Zuma, a small high school in Japan. Kate and Elizabeth were children of military families, and the school educated such students, as well as those whose parents worked for American corporations doing business in Japan. Continue reading →

Martha Johnsen’s morning program on local radio often has quite interesting topics. One morning she discussed childhood games of the past. She invited KFUN listeners to phone in to provide input on what used to occupy them in their youth.

Johnsen re-called that girls used to play jacks, boys marbles. People called in with accounts of having played Red Rover, Tag, Hide-and-Seek, Hopscotch (without Scotch), and Jump Rope.

We denizens of the Railroad Avenue barrio played stickball. And we loved bombarding girls on bikes with water balloons. We needed no encouragement to get out and play. The alternative — being put to work inside — made the great outdoors seem quite appealing. And the time and weather didn’t matter. We’d toss footballs or ride bikes until the curfew siren sounded, or until a by-then-invisible football whacked one of us — whichever came first.

One radio listener mentioned making shoes out of tomato juice cans. In those days, we’d stomp hard on a can (my brother, Severino, should have been thoughtful enough to remind me that the can of juice first ought to be empty) to create a shoe.

Properly stomped, the can cradled our regular shoes, gave us a couple of inches of elevation, and annoyed the girls, as we dragged our new footwear across the sidewalk, where they played jacks. Continue reading →

Well, I wish I’d had the pleasure. In Thursday’s Journal, I read a detailed obituary for Ruben Cobos, the author of “A Dictionary of New Mexico and Southern Colorado Spanish.”

For years, we’ve had a copy of the latest revised edition in our house and at work. Cobos, who died last week at age 99, provided quite a service, especially helpful to people like me, who grew up with Spanglish and who as a youngster, just knew that we often speak a different slanguage.

That’s where the volume by Cobos, an esteemed educator, was helpful. He earned a Ph.D. degree from Stanford University and taught at numerous institutions, including Stanford, UNM, Highlands and even in the pin-dot community of Wagon Mound. I wish I could have met him.

At the Optic, we have Cobos’ volume as a reference. People often provide us information that we in the newsroom aren’t familiar with.
One obituary, for example, referred to the deceased as “El Jefito,” (pronounced “heff-ito”), a slang term for boss. Where did we go for clarification? Cobos’ dictionary, of course, where it states the term is an affectionate application for a parent. Continue reading →

Did John Pistole have the timing down just right? As head of the Transportation Security Administration, he waited . . . and waited for the start of the busiest travel time of the year to surprise air travelers with three options: submit to a full-body screening, agree to an “enhanced” body pat-down, or stay home.

Thanks to our oldest son Stan’s decision to move to, marry in and become a father in Denmark, my wife, Bonnie, and I do a lot more air traveling than before. Much more. And in the past I’ve written considerably about my conviction that I’m one of the few travelers singled out constantly so others can check my stuff.

I didn’t say “junk.” That interesting choice of words comes from a John Tyner, a traveler in San Diego, whose cause has become viral after he resisted going through a full-body scan that, though less touchy-feelie than the pat-down, is more “observant.” Continue reading →

Ever have a day when anything you attempt to help brighten things falls flat? That’s the story of my life.

Here’s how:

I often try to reach people through humor. I don’t mean that I see life as an interminable joke-fest but merely that I believe in the therapeutic qualities of laughter. And if that’s true, my students of more than 40 years ago have to be healthy. There are limits, and on occasion I’ve needed to make sure the person with whom I attempted the humor is comfortable. It’s also a joy, not to mention flattering, when the recipient of my humor pays me back in kind.

Starting work at the Optic almost 10 years ago, I noticed I’d become the second-oldest employee here, the oldest being Humberto Gurule, the proofreader I replaced. Continue reading →