Forever, he is bicycling past me,
wearing a huge, goofy hat and that huge, infectious grin, as if it is
always a beautiful Saturday morning in Las Cruces. He is waving. I
can't quite hear what he's saying, but his joy needs no words.
He was a playful man. His grin
really was infectious. He brought to Dick and Sherry
Thomas's 50th wedding anniversary masks, funny hats, false
noses, and costumes – and a photo booth in which guests could take
their own pictures. This generated much silliness – and strips of
snapshots that still make us smile. Saturday mornings at the
Farmers' Market, he used to ride up to us, with unruly hair, a funny
hat, and colorful striped socks. Then he didn't, any more.
He was a serious man. He served on
both the county commission (as a Republican) and the city council
(while a Democrat). He served the public well. He cared – about
people and government. He was also a dedicated member of the dancers
out in Tortugas.
He was a troubled man, in pain. He
flew like a condor coasting on wind currents high above us, then fell
into dark, deep pits of depression with steep walls. He
suffered from bipolar disorder. He still called himself an
alcoholic, although he hadn't taken a drink for a very long time.
Asked how he was, he invariably answered, “Blessed.” His tone
and steady eyes gave the word a little extra stress, as when someone
depresses the piano pedal that elongates a note. He was grateful to
feel blessed.
He was a family man. I saw it in his
face when his brother, former mayor of Deming, was dying of cancer.
He loved and admired his brother, and was deeply affected by his
brother's death. He also had a strong awareness of the past. He
co-founded the Day of the Dead celebration in Mesilla and often made
altars to honor those who'd gone before.
I enjoyed our lunches, at which we
laughed and talked intensely. We didn't always agree, but who does?
Now, of course, I wish there had been more lunches. I wish that
after the election I'd tried harder to spend time with him.
Many of us are wandering around in a
daze, full of grief and regrets.
We ask “why?” but even his closest
friends don't know. Yes, he was emotionally fragile. Yes, he took
losing the mayoral election hard. We citizens discuss elections,
respecting both the winning and the losing candidate; but to the
loser it's necessarily personal. It's not Houston's football team
losing to Kansas City. It's you, alone, boldly putting yourself out
there, then feeling that your community has rejected you.
The loss hurt; but he seemed to be
slowly coming to terms. Then everything overwhelmed him.
Some of this doesn't usually go in
eulogies; but it's real. It was part of him. Illness shouldn't
define his life, but neither was it shameful. Others should be as
open as he could be.
He was a brave man. To become the
wonderful guy and caring and successful public servant he was, he
overcame extra hurdles. Insidious ones. That magnifies his
achievements. Maybe, too, his struggles strengthened his compassion
for others.
Our regrets can't help him; but could
each of us be a little more perceptive, a little more proactive, a
little less shy with other friends and co-workers whose hold on life
is fragile?
Maybe that's what he's saying from the
bicycle: “I'm at peace, but a little extra warmth could help others
you know who are in pain.”
Thank you, Miguel!
-30-
[The column above is slated to appear in the Las Cruces Sun-News tomorrow morning, Sunday, 24 January, and will appear later in the morning on the KRWG-TV website under News-->Local Viewpoints.]
[ I wrote this pretty much immediately upon hearing the sad news. Although we tinkered with it thereafter, I felt very strongly that it should be as it is -- but worried that friends or family who thought otherwise might feel hurt or offended. As I mention in the column, I not only care about accuracy but don't see the sorts of struggles the column alludes to as shameful or unmentionable. If anything, recognizing them should increase our respect for Miguel and perhaps might help friends make sense of what he did.]
[Not mentioning Miguel's name (except his first name in the last line) was also intentional. In part, I felt that not having to mention it was a sign of respect. Everyone (in our County, at least) will know whom I'm talking about without my having to identify him.]
[He was a great guy. We also disagreed about a couple of political issues. We both loved Las Cruces -- and also the Tortugas danzas -- in our different ways and based on our different experiences and relationship. Above all, I treasured someone who really appreciated people, spent a lot of time trying to improve local government here, and could talk seriously with you or make you laugh.]
[I should also mention that Rob Yee and Kari Bachman climbed Tortugas Mountain and set up an altar there to Miguel. We think he would have liked that, given his own preoccupation with the dead, and his having built more than a few altars himself. I mention it partly to make sure that folks mourning him are aware of the option (for expressing their grief or respect) of climbing up there and visiting the altar, perhaps adding to it.]
