Our hens are taking a break, so for
Sunday brunch we bicycle to Nessa's. It's a peaceful ride on quiet
streets. We pass some small but appealing houses that have seen
better days. I always wish I could save them. They're like stray
cats I want to feed.
Nessa's is small and welcoming – and
nearly empty, because everyone's out back, where musicians are
jamming and drinking coffee. Inside, at the table next to ours, two
state legislators are discussing energy. After ordering, we briefly
discuss with them New Mexico's overly restrictive cottage-industry
laws. Then they get back to working, and we start eating.
Nessa's daughter turned two not long
ago, so we've brought along a children's book written by our friend
Yosef Lapid. Retiring from his NMSU professorial duties
(government), he revived an old dream of writing children's books.
After ten successful books starring an adventurous and mischievous
snowman named Paul, he's written this one about Yara, a young girl
who wants to save the Amazonian rainforest she lives in. (see www.snowmanpaul.com)
Leaving, we pause out back. Musicians
creating, others drinking coffee and listening. As we unlock our
bicycles, enjoying the music, we resolve to come back some Sunday
when we've time to linger and listen.
Today, we have an appointment to pick
apples. “Apple Days,” at Burke's U-Pick Mesilla Valley Apples
have ended, but LuAnne Burke has agreed to let us pick the season's
last apples and gather free fallen apples for the hens. We want the
fresh apples for snacking, and baking in the solar oven;
but it's
also a delightful outing – particularly for Foxy, a dog (Red Heeler
mix) who is living with us while her person deals with medical
issues. Foxy loves to run, and discovers nearby fields where she can
really open up her canine throttle. Does she dream she's herding
Australian cattle, as her ancestors did?
We also like talking with LuAnne about
the great pies she makes and about her family's decades of farming
here. Once the valley had many apple orchards. This is the last one
of any size, and LuAnne is the last of her family farming here. We
want to see her family legacy survive. And thrive.
Picking apples is a diverting task.
Fallen apples in various states of decay cover whole areas like a
slippery rug. Few apples are left on the trees, mostly high up.
Some are rotten, or look fine until closer inspection reveals that a
bird has absconded with a chunk. Others are beautiful. We use a
fruit-picker – a very long pole with a small basket at one end.
The orchard envelops us. We can't even see the mountains. Wandering
from tree to tree, I lose my sense of direction.
At dusk we water trees in Oddfellows
Cemetery, having signed up for this task as part of the Las Cruces
tree steward program. After nearly two years, “our” trees are
almost ready to fend for themselves. We marvel at their growth.
Works for me!
-30-
[The above column appeared this morning, Sunday, 17 November 2019, in the Las Cruces Sun-News, as well as on the newspaper's website and KRWG's website. A spoken version is also available on the latter, and will air during the week on KRWG and on KTAL, 101.5 FM (www.lccommunityradio.org)]
[Community. Between
my leaving Las Cruces (August 1977) and my moving back here with my
wife (2010-11), I thought often about the concept of what I called the
village. I met many wonderful people, and formed close friendships in
San Francisco, Boston, Taiwan, and Peru; I thoroughly enjoyed living in
the San Francisco Bay Area; but I realized that in large cities we knew
people in a very limited way, even many friends.
I realized that in Las Cruces I knew people what I called horizontally: that is, the same person I might play chess or tennis with, or see at the pool or an art show, I might also next week act in a play with or hear speaking at city council meetings. In cities, mostly, you know only one or two dimensions of someone's life. You work intensely with A and B, and maybe play some tennis over at A's house on weekends, but you don't spontaneously get together of an evening. Whereas in Las Cruces anyone lives less than 15 minutes from anyone else, if I lived in Oakland, A in Lafayette, and B in Palo Alto, it might take us each an hour -- and an hour's drive home -- to meet in some common place. In Oakland and San Franciso, I had friends I played racquetball or basketball with, and friends I saw films or went to bookstores with, and friends who lived near me, but they were rarely the same friends. Further, most of my team at work were indifferent to poetry, foreign films, and other interests of mine, and some mocked my progressive political views.
Here, I also knew people vertically, across generations. Depending on people's ages, I knew not only the person and partner, but kids and grandkids, or parents and grandparents, and frequently siblings. Knowing a friend's parents or kids deepens your understanding of that friend, and enriches the friendship. In the Bay Area, my knowledge of most friends' families was sketchy at best, and usually non-existent.
We moved here for a lot of reasons; but those included both the many specific people we loved here and the abstract desire for the richer friendships of "the village." Community. I'd found that, mostly by accident, in this county, and I wanted to recover a bit of it.]
[I guess for a variety of reasons Nessa's sometimes make me reflect on such things. (see Bicycling to the Gratitude Cafe) It's delightful that so many really appealing coffeehouses and small eateries have sprung up, of late. Nessa's, the Main Street Mercado Cafe, Beck's, and Cafecito Divino are all close to downtown -- and we still love Milagro!]
[Another aspect of community was yesterday afternoon's reading at the Las Cruces Museum of Nature and Science. Eric Magrane, relatively new here, organized a project, celebrating the Chihuahuan Desert and specifically our Organ Mountains/Desert Peaks National Monument, in which a variety of poets and writers each wrote a poem (or brief prose piece) about, to, or from a specific species of plant or animal native to the Monument. A bunch of us read yesterday -- and one enjoyable aspect of the thing was that many poets and writers came out of their caves or small groups and met one another for the first time. At any rate, there's an Introduction to the project here -- or, Eric has also written an "entry poem" (spiralorb.net/) made up of lines from the various poems; so another neat way of reading the overall work is to start with that poem, follow any link, read one of the poems, then follow a link in that poem to another . . . and another . . .]
[Meanwhile, a last reminder: support local community radio (KTAL, 101.5 FM, www.lccommunityradio.org) -- and have fun doing it at the Rio Grande Theater this evening 5-9 p.m., with some neat food from 5-6, some fun music from 6 to 9, and a chance to tell us "Que Tal" show-hosts what we're doing wrong. If you can't make the event, please consider donating -- or becoming a member -- on the website.]
I realized that in Las Cruces I knew people what I called horizontally: that is, the same person I might play chess or tennis with, or see at the pool or an art show, I might also next week act in a play with or hear speaking at city council meetings. In cities, mostly, you know only one or two dimensions of someone's life. You work intensely with A and B, and maybe play some tennis over at A's house on weekends, but you don't spontaneously get together of an evening. Whereas in Las Cruces anyone lives less than 15 minutes from anyone else, if I lived in Oakland, A in Lafayette, and B in Palo Alto, it might take us each an hour -- and an hour's drive home -- to meet in some common place. In Oakland and San Franciso, I had friends I played racquetball or basketball with, and friends I saw films or went to bookstores with, and friends who lived near me, but they were rarely the same friends. Further, most of my team at work were indifferent to poetry, foreign films, and other interests of mine, and some mocked my progressive political views.
Here, I also knew people vertically, across generations. Depending on people's ages, I knew not only the person and partner, but kids and grandkids, or parents and grandparents, and frequently siblings. Knowing a friend's parents or kids deepens your understanding of that friend, and enriches the friendship. In the Bay Area, my knowledge of most friends' families was sketchy at best, and usually non-existent.
We moved here for a lot of reasons; but those included both the many specific people we loved here and the abstract desire for the richer friendships of "the village." Community. I'd found that, mostly by accident, in this county, and I wanted to recover a bit of it.]
[I guess for a variety of reasons Nessa's sometimes make me reflect on such things. (see Bicycling to the Gratitude Cafe) It's delightful that so many really appealing coffeehouses and small eateries have sprung up, of late. Nessa's, the Main Street Mercado Cafe, Beck's, and Cafecito Divino are all close to downtown -- and we still love Milagro!]
[Another aspect of community was yesterday afternoon's reading at the Las Cruces Museum of Nature and Science. Eric Magrane, relatively new here, organized a project, celebrating the Chihuahuan Desert and specifically our Organ Mountains/Desert Peaks National Monument, in which a variety of poets and writers each wrote a poem (or brief prose piece) about, to, or from a specific species of plant or animal native to the Monument. A bunch of us read yesterday -- and one enjoyable aspect of the thing was that many poets and writers came out of their caves or small groups and met one another for the first time. At any rate, there's an Introduction to the project here -- or, Eric has also written an "entry poem" (spiralorb.net/) made up of lines from the various poems; so another neat way of reading the overall work is to start with that poem, follow any link, read one of the poems, then follow a link in that poem to another . . . and another . . .]
[Meanwhile, a last reminder: support local community radio (KTAL, 101.5 FM, www.lccommunityradio.org) -- and have fun doing it at the Rio Grande Theater this evening 5-9 p.m., with some neat food from 5-6, some fun music from 6 to 9, and a chance to tell us "Que Tal" show-hosts what we're doing wrong. If you can't make the event, please consider donating -- or becoming a member -- on the website.]
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