Sunday, July 30, 2017

How it Is Here

As I start toward town Wednesday for my first show on the new “Que Tál” community radio station, a healthy young coyote trots across Soledad Canyon Road just in front of me. Good sign! We don't see 'em so often lately.

I'm well-rested. Several shots of mescal at bed-time helped.

KTAL's first live show is technically ragged but awesome. I'm awed by what fellow board-members have accomplished to get us here. We struggled embarrassingly long to get the station going. On “Speak Up, Las Cruces!” I've arranged an appealing schedule with mostly shows where knowledgeable local people will disagree strongly but civilly with each other.

It's incredibly complicated to create a radio station! We all feel pretty elated by midday Wednesday.
Thursday an inch of rain falls in an hour just north of us. I have to go visit an (allegedly) demented person. Several muddy rivers crossing Soledad Canyon remind me I should have taken the truck.
At the strongest river, two vehicles have stopped to reconnoiter. I quickly stop too. Then CRUNCH! I feel myself thrown forward. 

I step out into the downpour. I mute my anger. I approach the other vehicle, a big pickup with plenty of previous damage in the front. Young man sits at the wheel. Slightly dazed, or shocked. He apologizes immediately. He shows me his insurance information and drivers' license. It's raining too hard for me to copy his information easily. I have to lean in and use the top of his dashboard as a table. “I'll tell the truth,” he says. “It was all my fault.” I say that's good. He says he was afraid I'd be really angry. “Could have happened to any of us,” I say reassuringly. 

I'm soaked and a little edgy. My back hurts a little. I turn around.

At home we realize the car is damaged more than I'd realized. Much time on telephone with insurer and Vescovo. Then a long trip into town. Body shop, Enterprise, doctor. I feel a bit dazed, but don't hurt too bad. Driving home, I enjoy hearing a music show on 101.5 FM.

I awaken at 2 a.m. Beautiful night. Outside, I sit watching the dark mountains, marred by few lights, and the grey sky full of stars. The crickets are muted tonight. I'm glad to be here. (A pain-killer helps.) 

Inside again, I turn on the computer. The Senate has defeated “skinny” repeal, Republican leadership's desperate effort to show power by passing a bill no one likes and leaving tens of millions of citizens' healthcare to a lottery called the House-Senate conference. They're like kids trying to prove a point, even by acting stupidly. 

John McCain is a decent man, still strong at 80. I wonder whether his own recent surgery made him think how it might have been for some regular citizen. A Huffington Post headline calling saying he'll “die with dishonor” for voting to debate the bill is an ironic reminder of how vacuous most invective is, on both sides. And of the uselessness of yesterday's news. Meanwhile McConnell prattles that we owe it to citizens to take away their healthcare.

I also learn that the NBA's Warriors have re-signed Javale McGee, their wonderfully athletic backup center. Another triumph for the culture of joy. I think of Kevin Durant, delighted he could wear music headphones during practices, something his former team had forbidden. A team I suffered with through mediocre seasons, then watched become great, has actually improved further!

I play briefly with the morning's images of hummingbirds. 

We live in the high desert, in constant wonder and constant gratitude.
                                                                   -30-

[The above column appeared this morning, Sunday, 30 July 2017, in the Las Cruces Sun-News, as well as on the newspaper's website and on KRWG's website.  KRWG will also air a spoken version of it several times during the week.]

[I doubt I've managed to communicate at all how magical it all felt at 2 or 3 in the morning, the wonderful place and probably some relief, and things coming up as I'd hoped, ]

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