Mary Frances Weathersby

Thirty years ago, I met Mary Frances, one of San Antonio's original yoga teachers.  I was in my thirties and Mary Frances was in her fifties at the time.  She was one of the great teachers of my life.  My doctor at the time--Dr. Marcus--had recommended I see her when I fell into a depression after a hysterectomy at 35.

Every week, I drove into San Antonio from my then-home of Helotes and sat with her in her studio in her Austin Highway apartment.  She had saved her own life through yoga and she helped me save mine at a time when it needed saving.

Mary Frances became a close friend and inspiration to me, and I attended hers and Dub's fiftieth anniversary and met her children and grandchildren.  Shortly afterwards, Dub died and she was bereft.  Her health began to decline and she had some falls.  Her sharp memory dimmed, then practically vanished, and she was moved to Colorado to live in a nursing home near her daughter.  Whenever I asked a mutual friend about her, I was told that she knew no one but seemed content and happy.

Three weeks ago, she died in her sleep in that nursing home.

I haven't seen her for many years.  I thought of her several times in New Mexico because she and Dub had once moved there for a while.  Maybe in such close proximity to a place she loved so much, I was in touch with her in some way, sensing that she might be leaving.  The world seems thinner without her in it.

Rest

Even when everything goes right, even when you enjoy every minute of it, a trip is something you need to rest after.

Convinced my fatigue was due to high blood pressure, having checked it every day since Friday, I went to the doctor today and she said no, it's fine.  After 65, the safety numbers are not what they used to be etcetera etcetera.  Why were my eyes burning?  Allergies, probably, she said.  Why am I tired?  Because you've just taken a trip, she said.

Okay, I get it. I paid her $77 to tell me I'm fine!

So I'm going to take a long long nap and then maybe clean my dirty house--though I've heard there are people who will come in and clean your house in exchange for money.  I'm just too tired at the moment to call these magical people.

Kate just told me I'm always doing doing doing, and she's right.  I'm going to give everything a rest.

I'm not going to watch Rachel today and find out what five new political disasters of the day I need to worry about.  I'm not going to shop for fabric, watch a movie, wrap presents, or mop the floors.  Just sleep.  That I can do with pure pleasure.

The Pre-K Graduate

Elena's pre-K graduation lasted almost as long as a high school graduation.  The little graduates sang four songs and watched a slide show of their year, then were given diplomas which they tooted like horns, karate-chopped, and talked into like telephones.

Each little graduate was asked two questions: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" And "What kind of sea creature would you like to be?"

Elena wants to be a horse trainer so she can teach horses how to jump and run fast and so they can tell her when they are hungry so she can feed them.  Her favorite age is Now.

Dehydration

Remember to drink lots of water!

On Friday, we stood in the heat outside the church for a couple of hours, then inside for three---and walked a long way to the car.  We hadn't taken any water, but Carlene drank a little beforehand.  I am very dehydrated and my blood pressure, never high, is high today--so we're staying inside for Carlene's last afternoon, napping and reading.

Will suggested Pedialyte to get the electrolytes back in balance, so I'm doing that as well.  A friend of mine had a heat stroke a couple of weeks ago and the treatment was intense rehydration, so I just wanted to remind all you Texans to keep the water flowing.

Big Bibs, Toes, and Movies

Well, the Big Fry has begun in our fair city--temperatures hovering around a hundred already.  You never get quite accustomed to Texas heat; every year it seems hotter than the year before.  Walking on pavement into grocery stores in the afternoons is the worst.

After Carlene's first-ever pedicure (which she loved), we had Big Bib Barbecue far out on Austin Highway, the best in the city in our opinion.  In Georgia we have hickory-smoked pork; in Texas, we have oak and mesquite smoked brisket and pulled pork.  Big Bib smokes theirs for sixteen hours and it's delicious as are the sides--collard greens and baked potato casserole along with the usual beans and slaw.

Standing in the heat for hours yesterday, along with the emotional stress of it all, left us both exhausted.  So we're going to settle in for a night of Netflix, maybe a few more episodes of Anne With An E--a modern retelling of Anne of Green Gables.

Elena's Tap and Ballet Recital

May 26

Scott died on Veronica's 39th birthday and was buried on Will's.  The funeral was a moving and beautiful tribute to Scott and the other firefighters.

Will had advised us to get there by 10:00 if we wanted to find parking, and that was a good call.  There were literally miles of firetrucks and cars from all over the state and beyond.  All uniformed firefighters walked in together and created a "sea of blue' in the packed church.

All the way north on 281, every bridge crossing the highway was filled with firetrucks, ambulances, and flags. A few people stood beside the road saluting the men standing beside their trucks.

The ceremony didn't start until afternoon, so we were there almost all day, then we picked up Elena and met Nathan, Will and Veronica for a birthday dinner at Fujiya Gardens, their favorite place to eat.

Painting

Janet is a gem of a friend and a genius at color.  After trying a sage green first coat yesterday, we both decided nope to that and went with a beautiful blush white.  She painted all of yesterday and it looks so fresh and pretty.  She's a meticulous painter who doesn't tape and doesn't use a drop cloth.  "You've heard of people who fly without a net?  I'm a painter who paints without a drop cloth," she says.

We still need a rug, some matching lamps, and a few more things, but it's happening!

Kate has invited us over for dinner--and we're off to Miss Kate's soon.

Then tomorrow--Will's 39th birthday--we're attending the funeral of his firefighter brother.  Brad is still in critical condition getting skin grafts--he's one of the two who tried to save Scott.

Every firefighter I've met--and I've met a lot--is kind and funny and strong.  Tomorrow hundreds of them will be in attendance at the funeral.  They will arrive in a procession of fire trucks starting downtown at 9.  Every loss or injury is a reminder of what a dangerous job this is.

At some point, the chief had to stop all present from going in for Scott.  If he had not, they would have lost many more.

Homecoming

When we drove in last night, we'd only had one mishap--a stone flew up and cracked the windshield.  Otherwise, it was a perfect vacation in every way!

Kate next door had kept the grass green and the flowers abloom.  Jaro had completed the ceiling to perfection.  And Janet had painted the first coat of paint--which we decided isn't what we're after.  Back to the drawing board on that.

Jan brought us breakfast this morning--blackberry cobbler--and she has a garage-full of paint samples we're going to play with when we get our bearings from travel.

Carlene and I listened to Modern Love podcasts almost all the way home--they are excellent!

In each podcast, a professional actor reads an essay from the Modern Love column of The New York Times, then there are interviews with the writer, the editor, and the reader.  Great lessons in storytelling!

We stopped at a wonderful cafe in Ozona (The Cafe Next Door) and I bought some cool moccasins at the General Store.  Walmart hasn't invaded Ozona yet and it was fun to walk around and stretch our legs in "the biggest small town in Texas" where there are still some nice Mom and Pop stores.

It's great to be home!

Carlsbad, New Mexico

Tuesday morning in Carlsbad....

After we settled in for the night, we had a short but noisy hail storm.  Fortunately, the hail was small--woke up this morning to no dents in the cars, just covered with little pebbles.  We had dinner at an IHop, but they were out of pancakes, potatoes and toilet paper, and one woman was hostess, waitress and cook.

Jaro texted that the ceiling looks beautiful and my angel-friend Janet is painting the room today!  So I'm looking forward to landing on Ogden Lane and seeing the transformation and seeing all you Texas family and friends.

Will and Veronica had their 6th anniversary this week; Veronica turned 39 on the 18th, and Will's 39th birthday is Friday--though he said there's no celebrating on his birthday.  It's the day of Scott's funeral.  He asked, in lieu of gifts, that we contribute to Scott's memorial fund and Brad's benefit fund.  Brad is still in critical condition; the third injured firefighter is doing better.  Hopefully, we can take them out to dinner this weekend before Carlene leaves on Monday.

Meringue on Earth Pie

Five years ago in the Mini--
Albuquerque at Barbel's house

We've stopped in Carlsbad for the night--having driven about 350 miles.  We were tired and wanted to watch PBS programs and continue on with Anne With An E on Netflix.

Before we left Taos, we stopped at St. Frances Church to take the  almost-exact pictures we took five years ago, September 26, 2012.

2017 in the Volkswagen

2012 in the White Mini

Today

5 years ago

Driving south, the sky was a continuously changing display of fluffy clouds--which Carlene dubbed "Meringue on Earth Pie."

Leaving Taos and heading toward Texas

It's cold this morning and we're packing to leave, probably home by Tuesday night.  Elena has a dance recital we're trying to make on Wednesday....

Taos

The river behind Carlene runs through the center of the pueblo

One of our favorite things to do in Taos is to visit the Pueblo.  Don't miss it if you come to Taos. The tour guide was born and raised in the village.  Only about 250 people actually live in the pueblo, but it's the center of the Red Willow people--named for the red willow trees that grow along the banks of the river.

The tribe consists of about 2500 people, and they speak both English and their native tongue, Tiwa--of which there are no written records; it's  passed down from generation to generation.  On September 30th, there will be a Feast Day at the pueblo and the public is invited.

After the tour, we had Indian tacos and toured the shops selling jewelry and drums and other things made by the tribe.  The shops are actually the front rooms of their dwellings.

The adobe structures have been there for at least a thousand years.  (Lynn, the drum-maker said it was more likely four thousand years!).  The adobe is made of clay and straw.  The pueblo is closed for a couple of months in the spring in order for the tribe to repair the adobe.  There is no electricity at all in the entire village.

These ovens--where they bake their bread and make their adobe bricks--
are called hornas (silent h)

The blue and turquoise doors of the dwellings are
so painted to ward off evil spirits.

Going from one floor to another is done by ladders,
not inside stairs.

After our morning at the pueblo, we went to see the Taos River Gorge--then to see the Earthships--a community of houses built with recycled materials (bottles and tires etc) and are heated and cooled by solar panels, no electrical cords.

The gorge

Miss Carlene on the bridge

One of the Earth Ships
The silver dots are the bottoms of bottles
embedded in the adobe material.

We've noticed the altitude for sure!  At dinner at the Taos Inn (absolutely delicious salmon with wine, capers, pine nuts, currants) the waitress told us that you can buy liquid chlorophyl to help with altitude adjustment. But we're heading out in the morning--missing Taos already! 

People tell us that it takes about a week and a half to adjust to the altitude.  Until then, you tend to be slightly short of breath, especially if you do a lot of walking, which we've done.  

Meeting a Stranger

"That's the best car ever made!"  he said.  "I had me one just like that."

I looked up to see a man I assumed to be one of the thousands of bikers up here at the Red River Valley Biker Do that's happening in New Mexico this weekend.  Three big Harleys have been parked right here where I sit overlooking these beautiful mountains.  They've been talking and polishing their bikes outside our room since six this morning, and are just now riding away, one carrying a little dog.

I didn't know he was talking to me, but I looked around and there was no one else.  He came closer.  "I crashed mine on a Saturday and went to Vietnam the following Monday."  He looked longingly at the big old black Malibu, probably late-fifties or early-sixties vintage.  "I loved that car!  It was really fast."

We talked for a few minutes, but I woke up wishing I'd asked him more.  I should have.  He was a nice man.  He looked like a lifetime 3-pack-a-day smoker, red faced and stooped under his heavy backpack.  He had people in Georgia, he said, and he knew some Harrises in Texas.  No, he wasn't a biker, he told me; he was a walker.

"Look up Red River on your computer.  Take your mama there," he said.

I love talking to strangers and hearing their stories, but there's always that moment when we women assess the safety and sobriety of men strangers, and we mentally assess whether or not we'll need to get away fast if the conversation turns dangerous.

Turns out he was both, safe and sober, but who knows when it's night and you're all alone?

In the end, he shook my hand with his rough hand and professed his love for me for one day.  Maybe that's how it is when you travel solo your whole life.  Maybe love is a day-by-day thing.

Carrizozo, Santa Fe and Taos

Carlene and I have never had a better trip. The weather, the friendly people, the arts and crafts and food--we're both in love with New Mexico!

Carrizozo (between Riodoso and Santa Fe)  is a small town with lots of painted burros.  I went through Carrizozo three years ago, but didn't stop at the visitor's center.

Gwendolyn, the woman who works there, is a cellist and a poet who just up and moved here from Rome, Georgia, two years ago.  Carlene bought her poetry book and read some of the poems on the way to Santa Fe. She also saw me eying a beautiful turquoise necklace at the Carrizozo gallery and reached right in and got her credit card and bought it for me!

Some photographs in the art gallery
 of the burros painted by the townspeople over the years. 

In front of the visitors center

Carlene showing off--SQUATTING in the flowers! 

Gwendolyn and Carlene

Here's one of Gwendolyn's poems from her self-published book, Brave Poems Released, under her pseudonym, Iona Leveck:

She was born an adult
with no past

but a future
as big as the sky

and a ripening knowing
of who she is

and why she doesn't need to
go through moping 
or sorrowing
ever again

because Gwendolyn did

And Gwendolyn
was one of her 
very best friends.


We told Gwendolyn that it must be a good town to have so many donkeys--and that took us on a brief conversation about politics.  She's one of us.

We spent last night in Santa Fe and woke up this chilly morning to browse the wonderful farmer's market and crafts booths by the Railroad--where I splurged on a turquoise bracelet for me and birthday presents for my kids.  So much fun!

Driving into Taos today, I saw a sign announcing an outdoor art fair, so we checked into our motel and spent the afternoon perusing local crafts--painted gourds, pottery, jewelry, wooden things, quilts, and clothes.

We spent most of our time in Lynn's booth.  She makes drums and I thought she might have sage smudge sticks (Kate had asked me to get her one.)  Sure enough, she had them.  She told us that she often beats heart-beats on drums to help people "pass over." When she drums in nursing homes, patients who have dementia often perk up and become more alert when they hear the sound of drums.

Lynn, the drum-maker

Before we left, Lynn gave me a "drum wash"--intended to clear my chakras. It must have worked some magic because later in the afternoon, I had a conversation with a nice Vietnam veteran who said--when we parted--"I love you for this whole day."

By the time we'd walked two craft fairs, my feet were hurting and our energy was leaking--but sharing a delicious gourmet burger at Five Star renewed our pep.

We plan to visit the pueblo in the morning, stop by Moxie--the shop that sells the pants I can only find in Taos--and then head back toward Santa Fe, Albuquerque, and Ruidoso, then toward Texas.

I'm not ready for these meandering days in the high desert to end!  If we didn't have things to get back for, we could stay here another week and be happy as a pair of red peppers on a string.

The SA Firefighters

I didn't know Scott personally, but when any firefighter loses his life, I feel I know him.  A six-year firefighter, Scott was married with two children and another on the way.

On Thursday night when Scott died in a fire on Ingram Road, one of Will's friends, Rob--a member of the rescue team--was injured trying to save him.

As Chief Hood said last night, any firefighter "would lay down his life for a brother."

At midnight Thursday night, I got a text: I'm okay--just didn't want you to worry when you see the news in the morning.

But he's shaken by it, as are all the San Antonio firefighters.

I know these guys.  They are a bunch of lovable men (a few women) who joke as they ride along to answer calls, some no big deal, some life-threatening.  This one was the kind of fire they are trained for, the kind of work that calls up all their training and muscle and mind.  None of us connected to any of them will forget this week's tragedy.

Ruidoso Day Two

This is our second stay at Pine Springs, a Best Western property on a hill across from Ruidoso Downs--racetrack and casino.  We love it here!

Today--thanks to a suggestion from Barbel--we drove to Capitan and Lincoln, two quaint little towns north of here.

I'd planned to surreptitiously take a few snapshots of the folk art in Bill and Gaby's yard in Capitan (Bill from Texas, Gaby from Germany), but they invited us to come in for a visit and take all the pictures we wanted.

These cats are huge--about 8 to 10 feet tall,
made of plaster

The folk art and mosaics were done by the former owner.

I loved the mosaics on the exterior of the house,
done by the former owner, "a little bitty short artist
who moved to Missouri or somewhere." 

Gaby and Bill's bedroom

Judy, Carlene, Gaby, and Bill...
By the time we left, everybody was hugging everybody.

The sky is so big and blue in New Mexico!

Billy the Kid country
Between Lincoln and Capitan

We found a gallery--New Mexico arts and crafts--in Lincoln,

bought some gifts, then asked about a good place for lunch.

Che Palle (down the road in Capitan) 

serves yummy pizza, sandwiches, and desserts 

The backs of all the cooks' T-shirts say:

"It takes balls to make our pizza."

Che Palle (Italian) refers of course 

to the dough balls that rise for three days before baking--

according to this sassy cook who'd have become one of our

best friends if we'd had another couple of days.... 

When her grandmother died at 96,
Stephanie found all these little do-dads in her grandmother's crafts box,
pinned them on a purple cap, and wears them every day. 

Carlene took this picture of me at the Junk Monkey Cafe

Yard art, a gallery of local crafts, stories of how people landed here, good food, big puffy clouds--it's been a wonderful day!  Each person suggests a place to stop or eat or explore; that place leads to another, then another, and so on.  Always ask the locals....

Gallery-owner Annemarie suggested Rosemary's Herb Shop in Ruidoso, a beautiful shop filled with shelves of jars of teas, spices, and herbal remedies. Unfortunately, Rosemary ("an herbal genius" according to Annemarie) is on vacation this week, but I hope to meet her when we come back through here on the way back to Texas.

Our final stop was Martha's Fabric Store--a 60-year-old business (started by their mother, Martha) owned now by identical twins, Cassandra and Clarissa.  We visited with them for about an hour, then they hugged us both and asked us to come back.

Carlene just loves to tell her age.  "I'm 92!" she says, tacking on a few months to impress 'em even more.  They are properly shocked--as people always are. "I thought you were in your seventies," Cassandra said--then Clarissa picked out a periwinkle blouse (they sell clothes too) that would be perfect for her.   She didn't buy it, but I think we're going back in the morning to get it.  (That and some more compliments for Carlene!)

Arrival: Ruidoso

Okay, so we're not spring chickens anymore.  But this Rooster called out to us with affection in his brown eyes.

As instructed by Tom, I wore my Falls Church lacrosse t-shirt to set out on this trip  yesterday.  First stop Boerne by the river.

Then to take a picture for Jackson by the pegasus sign
just as his first game on varsity was beginning. 

Due to house remodeling projects, we got a late start and only got as far as Junction where we spent the night at a nice Rodeway Inn and had dinner at Isaaks diner--delicious chicken fried steak. 

Now it's Thursday night, Marcus' 12th birthday and we just arrived in Ruidoso, New Mexico, where we'll spend two nights. 

The drive here was beautiful--through West Texas on 10 through Sonora to Carlsbad, then north on 285.