tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44098148464009760382024-03-17T18:41:34.735-05:00Living RootlessAn introverted woman of a certain age sells her house, gets rid of her stuff, and goes rootless.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger2282125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-7998334773804745892024-03-08T13:18:00.007-06:002024-03-08T13:18:56.422-06:00A Long Trek Revival?<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkUFv6tkqr3rmskYmY5zfeUCNIqjDsCuo-ghpqDJrNEqUxBc-smJ2DA6YtL7iLN8RB7_GH2itYDbnEkgJnFnXPBS_pbX07PBjeZr-7WYhC56rxDLM7bdyq13NeOeLpnp6-OVU-GmRWQs22EuGlwqx-5X2kQFc3mWgLaL-q34SOHyplsKfaCYr85grYZBmV/s2816/Kazbegi%20drive%203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Road to Kazbegi, Caucasus Georgia. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkUFv6tkqr3rmskYmY5zfeUCNIqjDsCuo-ghpqDJrNEqUxBc-smJ2DA6YtL7iLN8RB7_GH2itYDbnEkgJnFnXPBS_pbX07PBjeZr-7WYhC56rxDLM7bdyq13NeOeLpnp6-OVU-GmRWQs22EuGlwqx-5X2kQFc3mWgLaL-q34SOHyplsKfaCYr85grYZBmV/w480-h640/Kazbegi%20drive%203.JPG" title="Road to Kazbegi, Caucasus Georgia. Credit: Mzuriana." width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road to Kazbegi, Caucasus Georgia. Credit: <a href="https://flic.kr/p/fk2A4H" target="_blank">Mzuriana</a>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p>So back in a day, I made plans to walk from the Arctic Circle to Tierra del Fuego. The trek would mark an important birthday. I gobbled up all of the online long-walk journals I could find. However, other interests interrupted, and I pushed the plan onto the shelf. <br /></p><p>Now I've revived said plan, in a way. This time not to walk its length, but to traverse it via various methods, including walking, cycling, or on motorized wheels, whether mine or a public bus or tourist van, or all of 'em. And maybe I'll start at the bottom and go up instead of move from top to bottom. Too soon to tell as yet. Or maybe I'll do as some hikers do on the Appalachian Trail: by sections over non-continuous times, and maybe not even in a sequential order. <br /></p><p>So I'll be gathering up long-trek sagas again. </p><p>I already gathered some <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/search/label/long%20walk" target="_blank">here</a>. <br /></p><p></p><p>I guess I'm still not ready to put down roots yet, after all. <br /></p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-22940250052162082402024-03-02T11:41:00.001-06:002024-03-16T12:42:44.437-05:0010 Years Ago: Louisiana: "Kaw, That's a Big One!" <p><i>Kaw</i>, those were some big ass frogs! </p><p> </p><p><b><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">Some other frogs, living and dead and indirect:</span></b> </p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>2010: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2010/11/paige.html" target="_blank">Paige [On some frogs in Darwin, Australia]</a></li><li>2012: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2012/04/black-sea-part-1-ureki.html" target="_blank">The Black Sea: Ureki [and the singing frogs]</a></li><li>2014 and 2015: Rayne, Louisiana: The Frog Festival <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2014/11/louisiana-rayne-frog-festival.html" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2015/05/rayne-louisiana-frog-festival-2015.html" target="_blank">here</a></li><li>Dead frogs <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2012/12/we-stop-for-carcasses.html" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2015/11/a-visit-back-to-missouri-barred-owl-dead.html" target="_blank">here</a> <br /></li></ul><p></p><p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjFDGUayUj-caUXN0fTyrRt5T2CuWcYcWdYcNxiruLs9oyQMBZ8Y7cCASm_6TpJonXvdqveyOlJSlMKILbNoqpNl_-TmcaJFKIH3p4CuM87azdT1lBofCqhFvtC_h2ZBGUmAUWd6yZj5NiaaQ5nTxknVJYpxdfQVQ8zAWKpzZrdnSySMx6KemjGUX0lqBo/s4896/Three%20Creeks-Dead%20frog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Three Creeks dead frog in water. Boone County, Missouri. April 2018. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="3459" data-original-width="4896" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjFDGUayUj-caUXN0fTyrRt5T2CuWcYcWdYcNxiruLs9oyQMBZ8Y7cCASm_6TpJonXvdqveyOlJSlMKILbNoqpNl_-TmcaJFKIH3p4CuM87azdT1lBofCqhFvtC_h2ZBGUmAUWd6yZj5NiaaQ5nTxknVJYpxdfQVQ8zAWKpzZrdnSySMx6KemjGUX0lqBo/w640-h452/Three%20Creeks-Dead%20frog.JPG" title="Three Creeks dead frog in water. Boone County, Missouri. April 2018. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three Creeks dead frog in water. Boone County, Missouri. April 2018. Credit: <a href="https://flic.kr/p/25kSCzh" target="_blank">Mzuriana</a>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></p><p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqL9O8IPZ5f2XiIBZufW77SkYtY4HfYCr7KP4emtW2DzY0QsP8Ekox2SUdQXM5IWJD6jWZVsRiakvnEBtGfKXScSQLgnduyhGkQYnwEX-gFdiQBGRasOUnJiDPstQDGM8AuAQAw0o9u6V6SqbbOG6rXYohDw573ETgWPi9zURoewpGZRvW165TYguJloak/s2259/KC-Zoo%20blue%20poison%20dart%20frog%201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Blue poison dart frog. Kansas City, Missouri. September 2018. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="1690" data-original-width="2259" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqL9O8IPZ5f2XiIBZufW77SkYtY4HfYCr7KP4emtW2DzY0QsP8Ekox2SUdQXM5IWJD6jWZVsRiakvnEBtGfKXScSQLgnduyhGkQYnwEX-gFdiQBGRasOUnJiDPstQDGM8AuAQAw0o9u6V6SqbbOG6rXYohDw573ETgWPi9zURoewpGZRvW165TYguJloak/w640-h478/KC-Zoo%20blue%20poison%20dart%20frog%201.JPG" title="Blue poison dart frog. Kansas City, Missouri. September 2018. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue poison dart frog. Kansas City, Missouri. September 2018. Credit: <a href="https://flic.kr/p/2btMTkS" target="_blank">Mzuriana</a>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><h4 class="date-header" style="text-align: left;"><span>Saturday, March 15, 2014</span></h4>
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<span style="color: #e69138;"><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2014/03/louisiana-kaw-thats-big-one.html" target="_blank">Louisiana: <i>"Kaw, that's a big one!"</i></a></span>
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<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"> <i><span><b>"Kaw, that’s a big one!” said 59-year-old Danny “Eagle” Edgar. <br /><br /><br /> “That’s a man,” agreed 56-year-old Clay Switzer.<br /><br /><br /> “Boy, he really is big,” hissed Harry “Hop” Dugas, who at 47 is the baby of the group. <br /><br /><br /> “It’s got eyes like an alligator,” murmured Edgar in wonderment.</b></span></i><i><span><b> </b></span></i><br /></span>
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><i><span><b>Tense
excitement bled through the three men’s Cajun accents. What could have
had them, with nearly 150 combined years of life in the woods and on the
water, so excited? Were they perched on a rickety bamboo machan,
hunting a man-eating tiger? Were they perched in the flying bridge of an
offshore boat, gawking at the massive bulk of a great white shark?</b></span></i><i><span><b> </b></span></i><br /></span>
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><i><span><b>Neither.</b></span></i></span><span style="color: #d0e0e3;"> <br /></span>
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Source: <a href="http://www.louisianasportsman.com/details.php?id=1689">Louisiana Sportsman</a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbOrResK34MHY0RHruXmL8FB7AevuXckD-tQPyvzjakuL21Io-pDQOf3bUAnPTQYbPni_wK02Z7wFjvbgAarrmSAwYFBIfB15mFy6-PcDjEyUZiVZGJxMzagAN3iZr4JtrOdFrXrRA3az/s1600/St.+Martinville+bullfrogs+6.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="459" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbOrResK34MHY0RHruXmL8FB7AevuXckD-tQPyvzjakuL21Io-pDQOf3bUAnPTQYbPni_wK02Z7wFjvbgAarrmSAwYFBIfB15mFy6-PcDjEyUZiVZGJxMzagAN3iZr4JtrOdFrXrRA3az/s1600/St.+Martinville+bullfrogs+6.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bullfrogs, Acadian Heritage Memorial, St. Martinville, Louisiana. Credit: <a href="https://flic.kr/s/aHBqjBgSMX" target="_blank">Mzuriana</a>.<br /></td></tr>
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A friend and I went to the <a href="http://www.acadianmemorial.org/">Acadian Memorial Heritage Festival</a> in St. Martinville today.<br />
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Some kick-ass music, good food, gorgeous day along the river, and, and, and ..... holy swamp gas! Gigantic bullfrogs!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS_tmB6AC6YTNi7h-zD6GRLYBwoUUK9M4tvleiR6TimL7JhXpz4c9zGQiGSXOsuOv_IGRHLo8d-4CnjhyphenhyphenTtdDqqe8-eYD69SoZl7oVVJ4lGBaDjUXrlbVRaJq4Z0u5J8pQFDyzniHEP_ZX/s1600/St.+Martinville+bullfrogs+4.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS_tmB6AC6YTNi7h-zD6GRLYBwoUUK9M4tvleiR6TimL7JhXpz4c9zGQiGSXOsuOv_IGRHLo8d-4CnjhyphenhyphenTtdDqqe8-eYD69SoZl7oVVJ4lGBaDjUXrlbVRaJq4Z0u5J8pQFDyzniHEP_ZX/s1600/St.+Martinville+bullfrogs+4.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bullfrogs, Acadian Heritage Memorial, St. Martinville, Louisiana. Credit: <a href="https://flic.kr/s/aHBqjBgSMX" target="_blank">Mzuriana</a>.<br /></td></tr>
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Who knew frogs got so big?!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6N9p8leT6Cm1xqG-g4dV-xfnvdI6DUBiLbTGWmtT5ZQwGzj477lC2g8dTdnWoHquXWIWTDC5RVhcWj35Oo2h7k-hcgG_LgKt9kKX5-GtTiJP_1G-ugidEcRzCHiqfQIFnuRP7ThmKvv-Q/s1600/St.+Martinville+bullfrogs+7.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6N9p8leT6Cm1xqG-g4dV-xfnvdI6DUBiLbTGWmtT5ZQwGzj477lC2g8dTdnWoHquXWIWTDC5RVhcWj35Oo2h7k-hcgG_LgKt9kKX5-GtTiJP_1G-ugidEcRzCHiqfQIFnuRP7ThmKvv-Q/s1600/St.+Martinville+bullfrogs+7.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bullfrogs, Acadian Heritage Memorial, St. Martinville, Louisiana. Credit: <a href="https://flic.kr/s/aHBqjBgSMX" target="_blank">Mzuriana</a>.<br /></td></tr>
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I was so fascinated by these creatures, I had to go back a second time
during the course of the festival, just to gawk some more.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMMZIqX6RWCPGvdnwvN-o4XVt9RHmTUYu2QU5s1MWI4-F6sFyONJmsRBquAVBMu42h0Rn65diF0L15CaPE9XmaJR6ikN2EYzAVv_9Fok8XmfVW5sAmJ4do-00WvpK9uoUCdRfwFUDW_nWI/s1600/St.+Martinville+bullfrogs+5.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMMZIqX6RWCPGvdnwvN-o4XVt9RHmTUYu2QU5s1MWI4-F6sFyONJmsRBquAVBMu42h0Rn65diF0L15CaPE9XmaJR6ikN2EYzAVv_9Fok8XmfVW5sAmJ4do-00WvpK9uoUCdRfwFUDW_nWI/s1600/St.+Martinville+bullfrogs+5.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bullfrogs, Acadian Heritage Memorial, St. Martinville, Louisiana. Credit: <a href="https://flic.kr/s/aHBqjBgSMX" target="_blank">Mzuriana</a>.<br /></td></tr>
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I understand about the frog legs for eating, but what happens to the
rest of the bullfrog's body? Returned to the water for recycling? Used
as bait for fishing? Given the popularity of frog legs in southern
Louisiana, we're talking about a lot of skin and guts here.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpk4fHnh4cJcv8s2baiAdKrrK2-kX6aTM4HagyJIz6YUaM-Z-Js_z4CWxSawkvIPig49_HYS_O24-nNDLUe0Ri78BDebixR5kQkD0cXHdiCRTyEH_wKTpZ1H6DYSrCG1G_x2YiAn1J7hyV/s1600/St.+Martinville+bullfrogs+12.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpk4fHnh4cJcv8s2baiAdKrrK2-kX6aTM4HagyJIz6YUaM-Z-Js_z4CWxSawkvIPig49_HYS_O24-nNDLUe0Ri78BDebixR5kQkD0cXHdiCRTyEH_wKTpZ1H6DYSrCG1G_x2YiAn1J7hyV/s1600/St.+Martinville+bullfrogs+12.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bullfrogs, Acadian Heritage Memorial, St. Martinville, Louisiana. Credit: <a href="https://flic.kr/s/aHBqjBgSMX" target="_blank">Mzuriana</a>.<br /></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><b>Interesting articles about bullfrogs and frog hunting: </b></span> <br />
<ul><li><a href="http://www.louisianasportsman.com/details.php?id=1689"><i>Of Frogs and Men</i></a>, Louisiana Sportsman (excerpted at the top of this post) </li><li>Real Cajun Cooking: <i><a href="http://www.realcajuncooking.com/2011/07/cajun-fried-bullfrog-legs.html">Cajun-Fried Bullfrog Legs</a></i></li></ul>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIE9KSCFbYK5XnEpOrMNZWJpZ8as_ja0dTcfE_YWMa2SRjeG82BKvfGtsgOCzSREHPJcBJ3hCBKjJ1vqNkSmDJz_tUjviB3i0hHtnwLXXg6H0Gyi9WFJxWsIv-_svPnPLfpgdGaoPvhWtI/s1600/St.+Martinville+bullfrogs+1.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIE9KSCFbYK5XnEpOrMNZWJpZ8as_ja0dTcfE_YWMa2SRjeG82BKvfGtsgOCzSREHPJcBJ3hCBKjJ1vqNkSmDJz_tUjviB3i0hHtnwLXXg6H0Gyi9WFJxWsIv-_svPnPLfpgdGaoPvhWtI/s1600/St.+Martinville+bullfrogs+1.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bullfrogs, Acadian Heritage Memorial, St. Martinville, Louisiana. Credit: <a href="https://flic.kr/s/aHBqjBgSMX" target="_blank">Mzuriana</a>.<br /></td></tr>
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My mother and a brother are coming to visit next week. Maybe we'll try some frog legs. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJhmpJ1QMvvITh36vCpyLkryDTj3Buh40hGJ0aXnLYqgjRvBNkMlk4qOBEnro95oNvQBTulkMG6TC_1Rg0oBCvuOOsbuJMjztFx_5Y4wzycUeqz1RLHtwQTF0Fd5UO6QuM4xJw0v4gs3Q/s1600/St.+Martinville+bullfrogs+13.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJhmpJ1QMvvITh36vCpyLkryDTj3Buh40hGJ0aXnLYqgjRvBNkMlk4qOBEnro95oNvQBTulkMG6TC_1Rg0oBCvuOOsbuJMjztFx_5Y4wzycUeqz1RLHtwQTF0Fd5UO6QuM4xJw0v4gs3Q/s1600/St.+Martinville+bullfrogs+13.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bullfrogs, Acadian Heritage Memorial, St. Martinville, Louisiana. Credit: <a href="https://flic.kr/s/aHBqjBgSMX" target="_blank">Mzuriana</a>.</td></tr></tbody></table><p> </p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-48402735829463684262024-03-01T14:38:00.007-06:002024-03-08T15:12:21.095-06:00Word of the Year: Migration: The Devil's Highway<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;">Below is a reprise of my 2011 post on Luis Alberto Urrea's book, which impacted me deeply. </p><p style="text-align: left;">The book affected me so much, I uploaded the stories of the volunteers who delivered water to the desert into my brain's cloud storage, knowing that some day - <b><i>some day</i></b> - I would be one of those volunteers. And so I was, when I took up my tourist-in-residency in Tucson in 2019-2020. <br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="text-align: left;">
Rootless Lit: <i>The Devil's Highway: A True Story</i>
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<b style="color: #a2c4c9;"><i>"Rootless lit" - Literature that speaks
to travel, migration, displacement, exploration, discovery, transience,
divesting of stuff, or portability.</i> </b></div>
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Rootless lit book review:<b> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2844665872" target="_blank">The Devil's Highway: A True Story</a>, by <a href="http://luisurrea.com/" target="_blank">Luis Alberto Urrea</a> </b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfTbq0ybgnrkRVCdSlFR7L5G0SuRbrvgeeYvTQejGz2ohO7lRBfCOCXviY_hxEIzq6uqTUXuFUeiAVtvlTBpK5PSAG8Osf9i4cpiLADAqxZENNJTWOm1q2jYXtLsT5K4lO2JflxoXd5CP2/s1600/Devil%2527s+Highway.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfTbq0ybgnrkRVCdSlFR7L5G0SuRbrvgeeYvTQejGz2ohO7lRBfCOCXviY_hxEIzq6uqTUXuFUeiAVtvlTBpK5PSAG8Osf9i4cpiLADAqxZENNJTWOm1q2jYXtLsT5K4lO2JflxoXd5CP2/s1600/Devil%2527s+Highway.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Credit: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Devils-Highway-True-Story/dp/0316746711/ref=cm_cr-mr-title">Amazon</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><p style="text-align: left;">
<br />
This is the story of the desert passage undocumented immigrants make
between Mexico and the U.S. Many die en route because of lack of water
and the heat. More specifically, it is the story of the <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2001/05/25/us/devastating-picture-of-immigrants-dead-in-arizona-desert.html">Yuma 14</a>, when fourteen men from one group died in 2001. <br />
<br />
There were parts of this book, especially at the end, where it was
painful to read. Mr. Urrea described the final hours of the dead in
vivid, personal detail. One description particularly stands out for its
horrific sadness. A survivor reported: "<i>One of the boys went crazy
and started jumping up and down. He started screaming, 'Mama! Mama! I
don't want to die!' He ran up to a big cactus and started smashing his
face against it. I don't know what his name was.</i>" The boy was 16 years old. <br />
<br />
About another who died, Mr. Urrea wrote: "<i>Nobody knows the name of
the man who took off all his clothes. It was madness, surely. He removed
his slacks, folded them, and put them on the ground. Then he took off
his underwear, laid it neatly on the pants. He removed his shirt and
undershirt and squared them away with the pants. As if he didn't want to
leave a mess. ...He lay on his back and stared into the sun until he
died.</i>" <br />
<br />
I like how Mr. Urrea spoke for the dead as they rode in their body bags in the air-conditioned hearses. <br />
<br />
Mr. Urrea's description of the Border Patrol's activities seemed
nuanced and even-handed to me. He offers thoughtful notes in the last
chapter regarding the financial costs and benefits of undocumented
immigrants, of other violences perpetrated in and around the desert
border. <br />
<br />
It's difficult to describe Mr. Urrea's writing style other than to say
it is personal, often in second person narrative. His portrayal of
almost all of the players in the undocumented migrant universe is
empathetic. Exceptions are the drug gangsters and the coyotes they run,
plus certain aspects of the Mexican government machine. <br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">Whatever one's position on migration, this book forces the reader to
acknowledge the immigrants' humanity. At least for a day or two.</span></b></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1PeWvCrCkag?si=O-YKLMxbHKsHXc3c" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><p style="text-align: left;"></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-51034073364919110632024-02-16T17:30:00.001-06:002024-02-21T07:21:33.097-06:00Jefferson City, Missouri: At Least I'm Not Camping<p></p><p></p><p>Although my apartment offers charm in views, design, and
location, it is as breezy inside as a log cabin that has lost its chinking. </p><p>For
some reason, this state of affairs reminds me of the so-called <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2011/10/georgia-prostitute-flowers.html" target="_blank"><i>bozi </i>flower in Caucasus Georgia</a>, aka prostitute flower. My apartment windows are as loose as a <i>bozi</i>'s legs. </p><p>And the walls are cold. Because there ain't no insulation in this 100-year old building. </p><p>Sometimes I'll feel an actual push of cold air that flows by me, but when I get up to investigate where the hell it's coming from, it's untraceable. A frosty spirit? <br /></p><p>During a recent two-week arctic blast, when temperatures sank into the single digits, my first thought upon awakening each morning was: "<i>At least I'm not camping</i>." </p><p>Cold comfort, as my living space was <b><i>frigid</i></b>.<br /></p><p>I wore (and <i>still </i>wear) a hat to bed <i>and </i>for most of the day inside my place. I'm wearing it as I write this. During the day, I typically wear three layers of clothing. <br /></p><p>Oh, sure, I could crank up the thermostat, but with the super-high ceilings, the billowy blasts of cold air coming through the windows and walls, with the registers affixed to the high ceilings, and electric heat pushed up such a long way through vents that are quite possibly lined with a thick layer of dust plaque - from a furnace of unknown age - which is way down in the basement of this old building, to which I have no access, thus I can't check the filter ("<i>We change the filters twice a year</i>!" say the property managers, as if that's a generous amenity) - and a bill that could easily hit $250 for just one month, I started out with a 65-degree thermostat setting before frugalizing even further by dropping it to 63 degrees. <br /></p><p>Since the leaden cold has descended, I don't see my charming outside views because I've covered my windows with two cold-air barriers in addition to the blinds already installed: Plastic sheeting and fabric curtains, and for some windows, Reflectix, too. Against the walls below the windows, I've pushed bulwarks of boxes and pillows to block the cold air swooshing in through the frames.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgheETmrIm5ZBHAjKg4BCRmqBk4hoMcmr5Q6NghUPdHyN9-UiwLqvkF3yCRdOPkU08P4kEzC-YPM_MW1yrSXymDM9EoFMXVqre0HeCewaaj0oqLAJIz_jUocoG6Mrdmv9KrzvmafQkhYiUoICzfPBWcIKsjWk-bzGwSZAtFtT_SNp4WX5aMY0I0LQHYJxbQ/s3965/20240216_162923.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="My charmless winter decor to repel the cold invasion. February 2024. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="2974" data-original-width="3965" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgheETmrIm5ZBHAjKg4BCRmqBk4hoMcmr5Q6NghUPdHyN9-UiwLqvkF3yCRdOPkU08P4kEzC-YPM_MW1yrSXymDM9EoFMXVqre0HeCewaaj0oqLAJIz_jUocoG6Mrdmv9KrzvmafQkhYiUoICzfPBWcIKsjWk-bzGwSZAtFtT_SNp4WX5aMY0I0LQHYJxbQ/w640-h480/20240216_162923.jpg" title="My charmless winter decor to repel the cold invasion. February 2024. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My charmless winter decor to repel the cold. February 2024. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><b style="color: #a2c4c9;">Other cold tales:</b><br /></p><p><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2012/01/rustavi-warmth-strategies.html" target="_blank">Rustavi [Caucasus Georgia]: Warmth Strategies</a></p><p><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2011/11/georgia-cold.html" target="_blank">[Caucasus] Georgia: Cold</a></p><p><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2012/02/georgia-warmth.html" target="_blank">[Caucasus] Georgia: Warmth</a></p><p><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/01/birmingham-al-annoyance-of-facts.html" target="_blank">Birmingham, Alabama: An Annoyance of Facts</a> </p><p>My winter in Birmingham was the very same that hit Houston so hard in 20/21. My winter in Birmingham is when I bought both an electric mattress pad and an electric throw to put on my bed.</p><p><a href="No, no, no, no. I am finished with winters in cold lands." target="_blank">The year I wintered in Ferguson, Missouri, in 2018</a>, I said this: "<i>No, no, no, no. I am finished with winters in cold lands.</i>" I made this proclamation after it snowed on Easter. In <b><i><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">April</span></i></b>. </p><p></p><p></p><p><br /></p><p><b style="color: #a2c4c9;">Yeah, and now look what I've gone and done again. </b></p><p></p><p>At least I'm not camping. <br /></p><p> </p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-65786689368362628762024-02-02T09:56:00.039-06:002024-03-16T11:01:40.661-05:0010 Years Ago: Worst Travel Advice<p> </p><p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQD3p7O30IDylBTnR9k-2qQ5tnzPB54xqTX3RJOxAzZeGTzjI0VN0mp1pw9iHnuWZMJh9Pe2irrO4qy2CYs5BwkJ1FLJQ_JqI9igZrosq1bO9y-n2YMVdf6TnX1xYLOV9zBt9tDWfqnZfrhxVAKqzNf3NdQEuZgquMnypS1i-jvJFy5dPVSEhQMEfEgn0a/s543/Psycho%20hotel!.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Dubious travel suggestion. Nazret, Ethiopia. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="443" data-original-width="543" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQD3p7O30IDylBTnR9k-2qQ5tnzPB54xqTX3RJOxAzZeGTzjI0VN0mp1pw9iHnuWZMJh9Pe2irrO4qy2CYs5BwkJ1FLJQ_JqI9igZrosq1bO9y-n2YMVdf6TnX1xYLOV9zBt9tDWfqnZfrhxVAKqzNf3NdQEuZgquMnypS1i-jvJFy5dPVSEhQMEfEgn0a/w640-h522/Psycho%20hotel!.JPG" title="Dubious travel suggestion. Nazret, Ethiopia. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dubious travel suggestion. Nazret, Ethiopia. Credit: <a href="https://flic.kr/p/9vnSt8" target="_blank">Mzuriana</a>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Ten years ago, I posted the article below. </p><p>In searching for fresh pieces of bad travel advice, I'm not seeing anything that adds much value to the 2013 Lonely Planet list - or mine. </p><p> </p><p></p><p></p><h4 class="date-header" style="text-align: left;"><span>Sunday, February 9, 2014</span></h4>
<a name="7878973855448448733"></a>
<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name">
<a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2014/02/worst-travel-advice.html" target="_blank">Worst Travel Advice</a></h3><p></p><p><br />
The Lonely Planet has a list of the worst travel advice ever <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20161113064826/http://www.lonelyplanet.com/europe/travel-tips-and-articles/totally-like-bogus-the-worlds-worst-travel-advice?affil=EML_EDITORIALNEWS_55" target="_blank">here</a>. It's not bad. </p><p>
<br /><b>
Here's my list of worst tips: </b></p><p><b> </b><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><b>1. "<i>Let's ask if they can help us buy some coke</i>." </b></span><br />
<br />
Yes, a temporary travel companion did propose this to me in Ecuador.<br />
<br />
Don't do this.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><b>2. Bring candy, pencils, and small coins to give to the children in the streets.</b></span><br />
<br />
This tip is offered to those visiting a country such as Ethiopia.<br />
<br />
Do not do this. Do not do this. <b><i>Do not do this</i></b>.<br />
<br />
It promotes begging in lieu of school (for those who have access to
school). It causes a plague upon the tourists who follow you, as you set
up the expectation that foreigners are walking Santas.<br />
<br />
Besides, you will <b><i>never </i></b>have enough stuff to distribute. Never.<br />
<br />
Finally, it is at best, a gesture of <i>noblesse oblige</i>. At worst, it is akin to feeding bread crumbs to pigeons - dehumanizing. <br />
<br />
If you want to contribute in some way to a country you're visiting, to
offset in some way the terrible disparity of resources between you and
most of the country's population - identify an in-country organization
that you admire and give it a donation.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><b>3. Take traveler's checks. </b></span><br />
<br />
Travelers checks have gone the way of rotary phones. ("Rotary phones" - look it up.)<br />
<br />
No matter how remote the country you're visiting, trust me, travelers checks are over.<br />
<br />
Instead, take some cash (dollars or euros) + cash (local currency, upon
arrival) + two cards that you can use as debit for ATMs. Stash the
second card in a place that's separate from the other card.<br />
<br />
And remember to inform your financial institution that you'll be
traveling - you don't want to be abroad and find your card is locked.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><b>4. From locals, about an area in their country - "Don't go there, it's too dangerous." </b></span><br />
<br />
This <i><b>can </b></i>be superb advice that you'd do well to heed. <br />
<br />
But.<br />
<br />
I've discovered that locals in <i><b>all </b></i>countries suffer from
the same malady as the locals in my country. How many times do we hear
compatriots caution against going to a particular U.S. location, be it
an entire city or a part of a city, or a certain rural location? Again,
sometimes the advice has merit, but more often than not, it's a
generalized and unsubstantiated fear that has little connection with
reality.<br />
<br />
So if a local cautions me about going to a particular place, I'm going
to listen to her, but I'm also going to ask more questions, do some
independent research, and then make a decision.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><b>5. Wait for the official instructions ... </b></span><br />
<br />
Like #4, this is sometimes the exact right thing to do. I learned in Ethiopia to be patient and let staff, <a href="http://livingrootless.blogspot.com/2011/02/ethiopia-road-to-bale-mountain.html">such as those at a bus terminal</a>,
help me. They knew what they were doing and it was in their best
interest for the maintenance of efficient operations to get me through
the process smoothly. <br />
<br />
But in an unusual situation, look at what the locals are doing. Are they waiting for instructions or are they moving?<br />
<br />
In Ecuador long ago, a trio of us (all Americans) were on a train from
Ibarra to San Lorenzo. En route, we encountered a landslide that had
obliterated a section of track.We passengers disembarked and milled
about for a bit. The train maestro said we should wait for instructions
about what to do next. While we waited, we noticed that all of the
other passengers began streaming on foot through the compromised
pathway.<br />
<br />
By the time we decided to follow, our fate was sealed: On the other side
was a waiting train - older, smaller - in which all of the seats were
taken. <br />
<br />
This experience was a laugh-about-it-later one.<br />
<br />
But on a <a href="http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/news/sept11/2002-09-02-choices-usat_x.htm">much more serious level</a>, there were people who died in the World Trade Center when they complied with instructions to "stay put."<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><b>6. Go here - the food is AMAZING!!! </b></span><br />
<br />
Yeah, OK, maybe.<br />
<br />
But I invite you to redefine the term <i>amazing!!!</i> to mean: <br />
</p><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>It is the <b>ultimate </b>experience in mediocrity! Nowhere else will you spend more money for such a stupendously average experience than this! </i></blockquote>
<br />
I promise: If you redefine the word amazing as I suggest, you will never
be disappointed. In fact, your expectations may be exceeded. Win-win. <br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: orange;"><b>What's your worst travel advice? </b></span><br />
<p> </p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-49439322494709220962024-02-01T09:28:00.321-06:002024-02-06T18:06:32.477-06:00Word of the Year: Migration<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="The Long Walk, by C Ortiz. Bosque Redondo Memorial, Fort Sumner, New Mexico" border="0" height="483" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1RoESH6j95n-GnaAhK3q2vlQBFxpLicFhrLmO4TL00Hu38gmHnsldiaNimWIOryFpaB1mzyC4B65J5DIEKge_5ChmDkH_J2dsZXhq1BaKogTsUw9Xni81mJS9l2IazjwiB2_k1oMRo_Ei/w640-h483/Bosque+Redondo+NM+1.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="The Long Walk, by C Ortiz. Bosque Redondo Memorial, Fort Sumner, New Mexico" width="640" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Long Walk, by C Ortiz. Bosque Redondo Memorial, Fort Sumner, New Mexico</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p></p><p>So, yes, it came to me that I do have a word for this year: Migration. </p><p>There is a massive human migration on our planet today. </p><p>Millions of women, men, and children are leaving their homes, their families, their friends and neighbors, their rose gardens, their languages, their neighborhood sounds and smells, their food, their favorite shops, their local houses of worship - all that they know, moving toward a future they hope is worthy of this outrageous price they pay. Knowing, too, that the people at the endpoint of their journeys may greet them, not with welcoming arms, but stony resentment. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Columbus - Puerto Palomas port of entry, New Mexico. April 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjFfM3yDP2OuwWCRWLOGCLaHLsOzybvFa14T8_l4FXFxsOByf5GXD8kXepMvb-aVmmZTYXPk54sM93dupM0NK5WLqhRGRNwEgrcuNk73enslBfNsZNVdfH7Dqq5Zl-053pmV0fA1TurxZ/w480-h640/Columbus-Palomas+-+Wall+3.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Columbus - Puerto Palomas port of entry, New Mexico. April 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="480" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Columbus - Puerto Palomas port of entry, New Mexico. April 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p><br /></p><p>Some migration is forced, in the sense that oppressors intentionally push people out, escorting them out, even, with arms or threat of arms. </p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>The Alhambra Decree of 1492, which expelled all Jews from Spain unless they denounced their faith, for example. </li><li>The 18th century <a href="https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/the-deportation-of-the-acadians-feature" target="_blank">Acadian Expulsion</a> in Canada, for example. </li><li>The 19th century forced removal of American indigenous to reservations, for example. </li><li><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2013/12/bosque-redondo-memorial-nm-long-walk.html" target="_blank">The Long Walk</a>, for example. </li><li>The 1940s concentration camps, mostly but not exclusively for Jewish people, <a href="https://worldpopulationreview.com/country-rankings/what-countries-had-concentration-camps" target="_blank">in 15+ European countries</a>, for example. </li><li>The 1940s concentration camps ("relocation centers") in the United States <a href="https://www.archives.gov/education/lessons/japanese-relocation#background" target="_blank">for Japanese-Americans</a>, for example. </li><li>The "<a href="https://stldotage.blogspot.com/2008/05/negro-removal-stalled-in-richmond.html" target="_blank">Negro Removal</a>" in St. Louis in the 1950s (and since), for example. </li><li>The Israeli threats to Gaza residents to abandon their homes or suffer the consequences for imminent Israeli military attacks, for example. </li><li>Rwanda. Burundi. Bosnia. Brazil. Guatemala. The list seems endless. </li></ul><p>Since mass migration is, if one looks at history, inevitable, it would seem wise if nations through which the tides of humans passed: </p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Recognized such movement as an inevitability - as inevitable as the seasons that come and go - and did not treat each migration as a crime to be quashed or a one-off disaster that ends in forgetfulness until the next one-off disaster that ends in forgetfulness until the next one-off disaster ... </li><li>Built flexible systems that expand and contract as the forces ebb and flow, like the rise and fall and rise of seasonal floods, to work <i>with </i>the migration instead of constructing river channels that may control a stream in typical seasons, albeit with constant vigilance for cracks in the walls, but which will collapse like a child's little pile of stones when the inevitable 50-year or 100-year or 300-year flood comes. </li><li>Accepted that the mighty weight of human desperation to rescue ourselves and our children from the drowning waters rushing behind us will break through walls of wire, steel, stone, concrete; of desert heat, and killing thirst. </li></ul><p>There is migration <i>within </i>our country today, a domestic demographic rearrangement as the pandemic and lack of affordable housing and "<a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/search?q=trauma+tax" target="_blank">trauma tax</a>" pushes or pulls Americans away or toward new home bases. </p><p>The pandemic and the resulting bloom of remote work has expanded the choices of where to live, possibly breathing <a href="https://www.governing.com/work/small-towns-draw-remote-workers-for-lifestyle-affordability" target="_blank">fresh life into small cities and towns</a> in areas that are/were moribund as a consequence of decades-long brain drain to larger urban areas. <br /></p><p>There is migration occurring in my internal map, as well. Will I redefine rootlessness for myself? Or en-root myself again? <br /></p><p> This is the year of migration, both literal and figurative. Both macro and micro. <br /></p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie6FCKn9Otyhp8sBlwSe12aFvqrqQgP7CiVS2mgM9VOLQN6FJF43MrxaR-71AteoQfpQy0pcTjt9f7f9f_2jqN72X6hycLRloqczuaWvuFcLp3MaaOnlRiEGe283CGrWIln_Ju8oUcyez6Rs6C7vbMT16xDLas7vgBR6y6JrL8Nc7JUjns6-ERq0EQg1kI/s5081/El%20Paso%20-%20Segundo%20Barrio%20Murals%206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="La Virgen of El Paso and Juarez, mural in Segundo Barrio. October 2016. Photo credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="3387" data-original-width="5081" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie6FCKn9Otyhp8sBlwSe12aFvqrqQgP7CiVS2mgM9VOLQN6FJF43MrxaR-71AteoQfpQy0pcTjt9f7f9f_2jqN72X6hycLRloqczuaWvuFcLp3MaaOnlRiEGe283CGrWIln_Ju8oUcyez6Rs6C7vbMT16xDLas7vgBR6y6JrL8Nc7JUjns6-ERq0EQg1kI/w640-h426/El%20Paso%20-%20Segundo%20Barrio%20Murals%206.JPG" title="La Virgen of El Paso and Juarez, mural in Segundo Barrio. October 2016. Photo credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Virgen of El Paso and Juarez, mural in Segundo Barrio. October 2016. Photo credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-90818268187395092072024-01-30T20:10:00.000-06:002024-01-30T20:10:31.922-06:00Rootless: On Living in Small Spaces<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC6zhMBaRxd16Cl5XrIHOSy21xGz5Gzk14coiPBZajp3VIEDgYAlXtd77DF7XBqmucouzSq9Q_UxefrEUpZucV3k6ZMoI1f1hJO7lRQ_EBiT-aO44ZPl7y2zX5p1e3XBJFpTm4k_nPj7pyI91XaOpDhGzViBMfD4gkIcFe8nTT3-WPJpzX5p5Dq97QlA/s4608/Mobile%20Alabama%20apartment%20living%20room%201.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="My apartment living room, bedroom, dining room, office in Mobile, Alabama. July 2022. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC6zhMBaRxd16Cl5XrIHOSy21xGz5Gzk14coiPBZajp3VIEDgYAlXtd77DF7XBqmucouzSq9Q_UxefrEUpZucV3k6ZMoI1f1hJO7lRQ_EBiT-aO44ZPl7y2zX5p1e3XBJFpTm4k_nPj7pyI91XaOpDhGzViBMfD4gkIcFe8nTT3-WPJpzX5p5Dq97QlA/w640-h480/Mobile%20Alabama%20apartment%20living%20room%201.jpg" title="My apartment living room, bedroom, dining room, office in Mobile, Alabama. July 2022. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My apartment living room, bedroom, dining room, office in Mobile, Alabama. July 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p> </p><p>When I met a long-ago, longtime love, back in my rooted life, he lived in a small space above a bicycle shop. His space seems larger when I visualize it now, but at the time, it was so petite in comparison to my house (a modest baby ranch). <br /></p><p>He had a tiny bedroom that pretty much just fit a double bed, a tiny bathroom off the bedroom, a tiny kitchen, a largish living area, and best of all, a kind of enclosed balcony that, back in olden times, might have been called a sleeping porch. Windows surrounded this bonus lounging space. </p><p>A cozy space; intimate. </p><p>I remember thinking all those years ago: <i>I could live in a space like this.</i> </p><p>Later, I met <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2010/10/voluntary-simplicity.html" target="_blank">Jessica Terrell</a>, who introduced me to tiny houses. She aspired to live in a tiny house. </p><p>On long, meditative drives on road trips, my mind often travels to my perfect house: A one-room space that has, along one wall, a:</p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Scandinavian-inspired, built-in "closet bed" (or "bed nook") with doors I can close during the day;</li><li>Toilet room; and a </li><li>Separate shower room.</li></ul><p>Along a perpendicular wall are the sinks, refrigerator, and stove/oven. </p><p><a href="https://universaldesign.ie/about-universal-design" target="_blank">Universal design</a>. Gosh, I love the premise, the promise, of universal design. It doesn't zero in on humans with disabilities. It includes everyone; it makes accessing the space easier for all. A description: </p><p><i></i></p><blockquote><i>The term universal design was coined by the architect Ronald Mace
to describe the concept of designing all products and the built
environment to be aesthetic and usable to the greatest extent possible
by everyone, regardless of their age, ability, or status in life.</i></blockquote><p></p><p> I like its aim to be both aesthetic <i>and </i>usable. <br /></p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0-GgPVK6_ZD8NmHqg-fFwMHFgoIvjoZtT5kn8RGLxMzLU0w2l09jK9XEcHkz0W0W-sbbI5zRBt16fg5Reegfa53S3Yvxm0KpW7z1l_Enev3XyuqT_OtyBFUBbn_TGLk_CUxUtYHkEjXiP9_sBlya3TURnByf-fFGqWD1o3SAY1seSTw2UulzrvhFKQ/s5472/El%20Paso%20apartment%20-%20kitchen%202.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="My El Paso kitchen. El Paso, Texas. September 2016. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0-GgPVK6_ZD8NmHqg-fFwMHFgoIvjoZtT5kn8RGLxMzLU0w2l09jK9XEcHkz0W0W-sbbI5zRBt16fg5Reegfa53S3Yvxm0KpW7z1l_Enev3XyuqT_OtyBFUBbn_TGLk_CUxUtYHkEjXiP9_sBlya3TURnByf-fFGqWD1o3SAY1seSTw2UulzrvhFKQ/w640-h426/El%20Paso%20apartment%20-%20kitchen%202.JPG" title="My El Paso kitchen. El Paso, Texas. September 2016. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My El Paso kitchen. El Paso, Texas. September 2016. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6sipgLHbRHHI_wek_PqoHt7lowntjsmGQQi5sLV-DejpSNt3ZV2EcMR61rAd1Y1OrhmHeZUbnTtkrsIddZm81giQOhDyPq2ZmFiTwxldIQDj9R3njod6Q4u6Xy_uOWNySUiRCM3UYMmVJN2cByP6VomiHlQxbkpnv17lbd8BY3FSereRBZ_HfiBz_KA/s5472/El%20Paso%20apartment%20-%20main%20room.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="My El Paso bedroom, office, and so-called living room. El Paso, Texas. September 2016. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6sipgLHbRHHI_wek_PqoHt7lowntjsmGQQi5sLV-DejpSNt3ZV2EcMR61rAd1Y1OrhmHeZUbnTtkrsIddZm81giQOhDyPq2ZmFiTwxldIQDj9R3njod6Q4u6Xy_uOWNySUiRCM3UYMmVJN2cByP6VomiHlQxbkpnv17lbd8BY3FSereRBZ_HfiBz_KA/w640-h426/El%20Paso%20apartment%20-%20main%20room.JPG" title="My El Paso bedroom, office, and so-called living room. El Paso, Texas. September 2016. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My El Paso bedroom, office, and so-called living room. El Paso, Texas. September 2016. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><br /></p><p>It has happened not-infrequently in my life that when I imagine something, it eventually comes to pass. Maybe my imaginary house will, too. <br /></p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-72132516111967754802024-01-13T18:43:00.001-06:002024-01-13T18:43:31.718-06:00Missouri: The Seven Shades of Winter<p style="text-align: left;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2rXeHYYrOnzPyfET6-915q1_GQiWQEWByQ427OkvUU-T8LXIE_IZ1_KWoJzKqT-5wM-I0n8ioQNGsOzxmL81Er_ZK4TuT2_76marc9-c6b1L6CGVBrPI3VR9L1vby15zDa27wk79BXUc_00ycAeiFJTnClmE03UujsIjHtp4fU5gL2B2VW57A4xB6Xj_/s2167/Icy%20Serviceberry.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Icy serviceberry, Jefferson City, Missouri. January 2007. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="1749" data-original-width="2167" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2rXeHYYrOnzPyfET6-915q1_GQiWQEWByQ427OkvUU-T8LXIE_IZ1_KWoJzKqT-5wM-I0n8ioQNGsOzxmL81Er_ZK4TuT2_76marc9-c6b1L6CGVBrPI3VR9L1vby15zDa27wk79BXUc_00ycAeiFJTnClmE03UujsIjHtp4fU5gL2B2VW57A4xB6Xj_/w400-h323/Icy%20Serviceberry.JPG" title="Icy serviceberry, Jefferson City, Missouri. January 2007. Credit: Mzuriana." width="400" /></a></div><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Icy serviceberry, Jefferson City, Missouri. January 2007. Credit: Mzuriana.<br /><p></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>So I'm back in the Land of Winter. </p><p>To manage this, I've got to break it into segments: </p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>The time change that summons the darkness, oh, too early, and too cold.</li><li>The winter solstice, the shortest day.</li><li>January 1 - at least we're now in the calendar year when will come spring! </li><li>The entire month of February - the coldest and the bleakest and the longest month of winter, notwithstanding its actual number of days </li><li>The time change, bringing incremental daylight minutes in the afternoon</li><li>March 21: The first day of spring! </li><li>Yeah! And every day in March that is without snow or ice or arctic temperatures is a day stolen from that bitch winter. </li></ol><p><br /></p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-22979692554822730982024-01-02T06:00:00.081-06:002024-01-07T20:15:38.742-06:0010 Years Ago: Grant, NM: A Revolution in the Middle of Nowhere<p>I have nothing to add to this story except to just step back and contemplate how much courage, perseverance, hardship, and risk it requires to effect meaningful change. <br /></p><p>And to know - to <i>know</i> - that it's not just <i>risk</i> of what might happen to you, it's <b><u>actual harm</u></b> that rains down on you from those who wish to maintain the status quo. Physical, financial, educational, emotional, familial harm. <br /></p><p>And to know that throughout the process of inviting, provoking, inciting change, there is no guarantee that your sacrifices and vulnerability will achieve the desired result. </p><p>When I think in this moment of so many women, men, and children who seek to self-rescue themselves from untenable situations at home in Central and South America, who are daily dehumanized by the sere name of "migrant," I think of desperation - yet there is also hope, right? Because to leave the status quo for something else implies the hope that there is something better elsewhere. </p><p>As had these revolutionaries in Grant County, New Mexico: We are men and women. We deserve better, and we claim what we deserve. <br /></p><h2 class="date-header"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>Saturday, January 26, 2013</span></span></h2>
<span style="font-size: small;"><a name="3179642909978630545"></a></span>
<h2 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">Grant County, New Mexico: A Revolution in the Middle of Nowhere</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">
</span></span></h2><p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIAGcspCFn0EFTfEizNaVg-te6x0meNMXX8uZEdx9jhJVGp3Mdj8SPP9cbNh9hsUVmS8ugO9oftwq_7-RLH91Bu8j76kOTSeOxHK0KPKRYZ-BW3iFzhssCi7OBBozlk9BOhueEpxSRZ7rj/s1600/Hurley+NM+4.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIAGcspCFn0EFTfEizNaVg-te6x0meNMXX8uZEdx9jhJVGp3Mdj8SPP9cbNh9hsUVmS8ugO9oftwq_7-RLH91Bu8j76kOTSeOxHK0KPKRYZ-BW3iFzhssCi7OBBozlk9BOhueEpxSRZ7rj/s640/Hurley+NM+4.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mural about the Mine-Mill Strike by the Local 890 and the 209. Bayard, New Mexico</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<p> </p><p>You're driving down a road. You pass through a small, rather despondent
town by the name of Bayard. The only thing of interest that catches your
eye is a mural on the side of a long, low building. You turn around, go
back. Get out of the car, take the pics, get back in the car and zoom
off. Nice artwork. <br />
<br />
But when you get home and go through the pics, get ready to post them,
you do a little due diligence on the ol' "Local 890" cited in the mural.
Maybe there's a little blurb in a local paper about the mural, its
artist, and a bit of history of a union group that used to be, and that
probably is no more.<br />
<br />
You google on "Hurley, NM" and "local 890." Nothing of interest comes
up. So you broaden the search to "local 890" and "new mexico." (<i><span style="color: orange;">Update
11Feb2013: Note comment below from Anonymous. I had the town wrong,
which explains why nothing much came up in my original search. Doh!</span></i>) <br />
<br />
Goddamn. <a href="http://magazine.oah.org/issues/244/salt.html">What a story! </a><br />
<br />
</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGaDjkp3ISzYuBq1Y0MnTRZPiyykDfQpHEMoSfJusJllu-1x1xlrlNajmb889C2aiQiC9BuJwMWZvK3vqSxAa3vose5WmmE-3T4rTdBwAB0l_w8ZN-PzEhz3y3tHOKbj2ev3zpGblsOH2k/s1600/Hurley+NM+5.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGaDjkp3ISzYuBq1Y0MnTRZPiyykDfQpHEMoSfJusJllu-1x1xlrlNajmb889C2aiQiC9BuJwMWZvK3vqSxAa3vose5WmmE-3T4rTdBwAB0l_w8ZN-PzEhz3y3tHOKbj2ev3zpGblsOH2k/w640-h418/Hurley+NM+5.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mural about the Mine-Mill Strike by the Local 890 and the 209. Bayard, New Mexico</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><b>The primary story</b></span><span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span>
<br />
Back in the early 1950s, a lot of folks in Grant County worked at the
Empire Zinc Mine in Hanover, New Mexico. Americans of Mexican descent
were paid less than other Americans working in the mine - there was a
two-tiered wage structure to ensure that. Furthermore, regardless of
ethnicity, the company didn't pay for the time getting down into or up
out of the mine - the clock didn't start until the miners were in place.
Mining families living in company housing suffered poor living
conditions - no hot water, for example. The company was not responsive
to the miners' complaints about any of these issues, and they and the
miners reached an impasse.<br />
<br />
The miners' union, the Local 890, decided to go on strike. They kept the
mine closed for eight months, with neither side budging from their
positions. Finally, the company obtained a court injunction forbidding
the miners to strike.<br />
<br />
In a creative twist, some of the wives of the miners, affiliated with the Ladies' Auxiliary 209, suggested that <i>they </i>form the picket lines instead of the miners. The miners agreed.<br />
<br />
The women stood fast against arrests, threats, and intimidation by union scabs, local law, and community members. <a href="http://magazine.oah.org/issues/244/salt.html">In one narrative</a>: <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"The women’s picket was carefully organized, militant, and successful.
Not only did wives of Empire strikers, such as Henrietta Williams and
Virginia Chacón, walk the line; many women from other towns in Grant
County also participated. When County Sheriff Leslie Goforth ordered 53
women arrested on June 16, another 300 women took their places!" </i></blockquote>
<br />
Furthermore, in response to intimidation: <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"Not only did women push cars, drag men out of them, and maintain their
lines; they also jumped on cars, threw rocks at strikebreakers, and
deployed various “domestic” items as weapons: knitting needles, pins,
(rotten) eggs and chili peppers."</i> </blockquote>
<br />
So who was back home taking care of the kids and house? The jobless miners, who had eye-opening experiences at home. <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"For the next seven months, the women held the line in the face of
violence from strikebreakers, mass arrests by the sheriff, and
opposition from many of their own husbands, who were suddenly faced with
the responsibilities of caring for children, washing clothes, and doing
the dishes. In January 1952, the strikers returned to work with a new
contract. They had failed to win their major demands, but did obtain
significant pay increases that, in effect, undermined the Mexican wage.
Several weeks later, Empire Zinc installed hot water plumbing in Mexican
American workers’ houses--a major issue pushed by the women of these
households."</i></blockquote>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpSBaY7drnH5kdxhiUvbCi9NF0yo2FVVLIofiuYFfvLfVJ0yCXzCWK4udD0PYT28q7YAjeNIdJDn72mWRJxzK3mSyYMiXNu9-Pxi2_DM5oyAeaVKLT5EfigsoX13-G-mhGJ3UOMtQqidJl/s1600/Hurley+NM+2.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpSBaY7drnH5kdxhiUvbCi9NF0yo2FVVLIofiuYFfvLfVJ0yCXzCWK4udD0PYT28q7YAjeNIdJDn72mWRJxzK3mSyYMiXNu9-Pxi2_DM5oyAeaVKLT5EfigsoX13-G-mhGJ3UOMtQqidJl/w640-h480/Hurley+NM+2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mural about the Mine-Mill Strike by the Local 890 and the 209. Bayard, New Mexico</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><b>The secondary story</b></span> <br />
<br />
Three filmmakers who were members of the Communist Party made a movie
about the miners' strike. They were Herbert Biberman (director), <a href="http://marlowesghost.com/yahoo_site_admin/assets/docs/Microsoft_Word_-_A_Very_Good_American.5371929.pdf">Michael Wilson</a> (screenwriter), and Paul Jarrico (producer).<br />
<br />
Mr. Wilson wrote or collaborated on screenplays for, among others: <i>Lawrence of Arabia</i>, <i>Planet of the Apes</i>, <i>Bridge Over the River Kwai</i>, <i>It's A Wonderful Life</i>, <i>A Place in the Sun</i>, and <i>Border Patrol</i>. In some, such as <i>Lawrence of Arabia</i>, he was uncredited because he had been blacklisted during (and after) the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McCarthyism">McCarthy Era</a>.<br />
<br />
The movie was <a href="http://magazine.oah.org/issues/244/salt.html"><i>Salt of the Earth</i></a>,
and it included experienced actors and individuals who actually
participated in the strike. Filmed on site, the movie production was
beset with harassing actions by politicos fraught with commie fever.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"On February 24, 1953, as filming proceeded in Grant County, U.S.
Representative Donald L. Jackson (Rep-Calif.), a member of the House
Committee on Un-American Activities (HUAC), <a href="http://magazine.oah.org/issues/244/CR_Jackson_speech.pdf">delivered a speech</a> on the
floor of Congress that portrayed <span class="italic">Salt</span> as a
dire threat to the nation. '</i>This picture<i>,' Jackson charged, '</i>is
deliberately designed to inflame racial hatreds and to depict the United
States of America as the enemy of all colored peoples<i>.' '</i>If this
picture is shown in Latin America, Asia, and India<i>,' he warned, '</i>it will
do incalculable harm not only to the United States but to the cause of
free people everywhere<i>.' '</i>In effect<i>,' he concluded, '</i>this picture is a
new weapon for Russia<i>.'”</i></blockquote>
<br />
To harass the <a href="http://magazine.oah.org/issues/244/salt.html">making of the movie</a>,<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"The Grant County American Legion post distributed printed copies of
Jackson’s speech to local residents. Anti-Mine-Mill residents formed a
vigilante committee that carried out physical attacks on the film crew
and cast. And the day after Jackson’s speech, Rosaura Revueltas [</i>one of the professional actresses<i>] was
arrested on immigration charges, based on the technicality that she had
failed to get her passport stamped when entering the U.S., and was
deported before filming ended. (The last shots of her in the film were
done in Mexico and the film had to be smuggled back into the U.S.).
Finally, due to collaboration between Jackson, studio executives such as
Howard Hughes, the American Legion, as well as the conservative
Hollywood technicians’ union--the International Association of
Theatrical Stage Employees (IATSE)--few Americans saw </i><span class="italic">Salt of the Earth</span><i> in the year of its release. In 1954, there were 13,000 movie theaters in the U.S. Only thirteen of them showed the film." </i></blockquote>
In addition, shots were fired nearby and planes buzzed the production in order to interrupt film making.<br />
<br />
"Grandpa Walton," <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Will_Geer">Will Geer</a>, played the town sheriff in the movie. Mr. Geer was also on the blacklist for his alleged un-American activities.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9c6L06KPGpq31etuvLwGDgLgjRf9Q8rHqW8deRTbZj6X2JhduaA4av0F6ubS0S52dkqxu4JFDUaK1GaPLUg7EAzPawRMXH-4hhasuRl5RkX-t_t5uL_VtGpEi0fsZ5KkIFfNo-chHTrmc/s1600/Hurley+NM+6.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9c6L06KPGpq31etuvLwGDgLgjRf9Q8rHqW8deRTbZj6X2JhduaA4av0F6ubS0S52dkqxu4JFDUaK1GaPLUg7EAzPawRMXH-4hhasuRl5RkX-t_t5uL_VtGpEi0fsZ5KkIFfNo-chHTrmc/w640-h365/Hurley+NM+6.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mural about the Mine-Mill Strike by the Local 890 and the 209. Bayard, New Mexico</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><b>The tertiary stories</b></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Women's rights</b>. Carl R. Weinberg, a historian and the author of this article, which as served as <a href="http://magazine.oah.org/issues/244/salt.html">my main resource</a>
on the Local 890 strike, proposes that the women's role in this strike
was one of a series of events that informed the modern-day women's
movement.<br />
<br />
<b>Communism as scapegoat</b>. The socio-political environment in which
the strike and movie occurred used communism as a handy shield to
maintain the status quo for the mining company and its employees.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gtykbyyS5v2qPkvGHfYhyA_N1jtrLmfeQfvSN8fAkuSjR7HvfpwQChRaRQ-J2zcX0xWxMaZNCPTDuw3cTH7LOhTzl-RLZvwuA6wW0BgToArpQipYjiy0EYtfBehfi5TtmYx_WGJowKqp/s1600/Hurley+NM+3.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gtykbyyS5v2qPkvGHfYhyA_N1jtrLmfeQfvSN8fAkuSjR7HvfpwQChRaRQ-J2zcX0xWxMaZNCPTDuw3cTH7LOhTzl-RLZvwuA6wW0BgToArpQipYjiy0EYtfBehfi5TtmYx_WGJowKqp/w640-h480/Hurley+NM+3.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mural about the Mine-Mill Strike by the Local 890 and the 209. Bayard, New Mexico. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
So here's to the mural artist(s) in little Bayard, New Mexico, whose
work compelled me to pause for a moment on my way home from Silver City.
And to the people of the Local 890 and the 209, whose story is still so
moving, more than 50 years later. <br />
<p> </p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-8184340817716160782024-01-01T07:00:00.126-06:002024-01-06T15:28:57.320-06:002024: Word of the Year? <p style="text-align: left;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEienuUvS8NrNvj0eQcehMyl_6BThF9KpNu2232n-DJckPUBtLUv4NNr-Ady46jr9Jxz6gRysNoi6KDIrTdc_ROnaUm2OHnI7z6QZE8wLLaJ_Eby4u5FOvai4faZjGUbz2yVmAoUOo0RcfuH3H0YTV9OUAhbot8GHkaIQe56WBpWb8BYGBJPI5zFah7-c8bX/s579/Armenia%20-%20Book%20critters.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Captive words in Armenia. March 2012. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEienuUvS8NrNvj0eQcehMyl_6BThF9KpNu2232n-DJckPUBtLUv4NNr-Ady46jr9Jxz6gRysNoi6KDIrTdc_ROnaUm2OHnI7z6QZE8wLLaJ_Eby4u5FOvai4faZjGUbz2yVmAoUOo0RcfuH3H0YTV9OUAhbot8GHkaIQe56WBpWb8BYGBJPI5zFah7-c8bX/w530-h640/Armenia%20-%20Book%20critters.JPG" title="Captive words in Armenia. March 2012. Credit: Mzuriana." width="530" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Captive words in Armenia. March 2012. Credit: <a href="https://flic.kr/p/fiPgCS" target="_blank">Mzuriana</a>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Some years back, I instituted a <i>Word of the Year</i> thing. </p><p>Not sure I will continue. </p><p>Maybe I'm just over it. Maybe it <strike>feels</strike> is too contrived. <strike>Maybe</strike> it was just a way to add content in a lazy-ass way, albeit with sincerity. <br /></p><p>While I think about whether to continue the pattern, below are past words of the year: </p><p><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span><b>2018: Courage</b></span></span></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>January 2018: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2018/04/word-of-year-courage-1.html" target="_blank">Courage 1: Malala</a><br /></li><li>February 2018: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2018/04/word-of-year-courage-2-poet-familiar.html" target="_blank">Courage 2: Audre Lorde</a></li></ul><p><span style="color: #76a5af;"></span></p><p><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span><b>2019: Action</b></span></span></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>January: <i><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2019/01/word-of-year-2019-action.html" target="_blank">Action</a></i></li><li>February: <i><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2019/02/word-of-year-2019-action-legal-observers.html" target="_blank">Action: Legal Observers</a></i></li><li>March: <i><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2019/02/word-of-year-action-penpal.html" target="_blank">Action: Penpal</a></i></li><li>July: <i><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2019/07/word-of-year-2019-action-escaping.html" target="_blank">Action: Escaping Despair</a></i></li><li>August: <i><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2019/08/word-of-year-2019-action-lipstick-and.html" target="_blank">Action: Lipstick and Salvation</a></i></li><li>September: <i><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2019/09/word-of-year-2019-action-refugee-shelter.html" target="_blank">Action: A Refugee Shelter</a></i></li></ul><p> <span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span><b>2020: Build</b></span></span></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>
<a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2020/01/word-of-year-2020-build-1.html" target="_blank"><i>Build 1: After the Floods</i></a></li><li>
<a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2020/02/word-of-year-2020-build-2.html" target="_blank"><i>Build 2: Fronterista</i></a></li><li>
<a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2020/03/word-of-year-2020-build-3-house.html" target="_blank"><i>Build 3: "House"</i></a></li><li>
<a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2020/04/word-of-year-2020-build-4-chosens.html" target="_blank"><i>Build 4: Chosens</i></a></li><li>
<a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2020/05/word-of-year-2020-build-it-takes-village.html" target="_blank"><i>Build 5: It Takes a Village</i></a></li><li><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2020/06/word-of-year-2020-build-6-elevation.html" target="_blank"><i>Build 6: Elevation</i></a></li><li>
<a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2020/07/word-of-year-2020-build-7-trail-building.html" target="_blank"><i>Build 7: Trail Building</i></a></li><li><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2020/08/word-of-year-2020-build-8-money.html" target="_blank"><i>Build 8: Money</i></a></li><li>
<a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2020/09/word-of-year-build-10-health.html" target="_blank"><i>Build 9: Health</i></a> </li><li><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2020/10/word-of-year-build-9-service-and.html" target="_blank"><i>Build 10: Service and Activism</i></a></li><li><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2020/11/word-of-year-2020-build-11-relationships.html" target="_blank"><i>Build 11: Relationships</i></a></li><li><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2020/12/word-of-year-2020-build-12-creative-life.html" target="_blank"><i>Build 12: Creative Life</i></a></li><li><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2020/12/word-of-year-2020-build-13-my-rootless.html" target="_blank"><i>Lagniappe 13: My Rootless Goals</i></a> <br /></li></ol><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span><b>2021: Joy</b></span></span></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>November 2020: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2020/11/reserving-my-word-for-2021-joy.html" target="_blank"><i>Reserving My Word for 2021: Joy</i></a> <br /></li><li>Joy 1: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/01/word-of-year-2021-joy.html" target="_blank"><i>Word of the Year: Joy</i></a><br /></li><li>Joy 2: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/02/word-of-year-2021-joy-2-music.html" target="_blank"><i>Music</i></a></li><li>Joy 3: <i><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/03/word-of-year-2021-joy-3-surprise-vista.html" target="_blank">Surprise Vista</a></i><br /></li><li>Joy 4: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/04/word-of-year-2021-joy-4-happy-joyous.html" target="_blank"><i>Happy, Joyous, and Free</i></a><br /></li><li>Joy 5: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/05/word-of-year-joy-5-science-of-joy.html" target="_blank"><i>The Science of Joy, Interrupted</i></a><br /></li><li>Joy 6: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/06/word-of-year-joy-6-color.html" target="_blank"><i>Color</i></a></li><li>Joy 7: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/07/word-of-year-joy-7-birdsong.html" target="_blank"><i>Birdsong</i></a></li><li>Joy 8: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/08/word-of-year-joy-8-here-and-now-boys.html" target="_blank"><i>Here and Now, Boys</i></a><br /></li><li>Joy 9: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/09/word-of-year-joy-9-tomato-and-onion.html" target="_blank"><i>A Tomato and Onion Sandwich</i></a></li><li>Joy 10: <i><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/10/word-of-year-joy-10-let-in-light.html" target="_blank">Let in Light</a></i><br /></li><li>Joy 11: <i><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/11/word-of-year-joy-11-scentsuality.html" target="_blank">Scentsuality</a></i></li><li>Joy 12: <i><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/12/word-of-year-joy-12-remembrances.html" target="_blank">Remembrances</a></i></li></ul><p></p><p> </p><p><b style="color: #a2c4c9;">2022: Disciplines</b></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>January: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2022/01/word-of-year-2022-disciplines-1.html" target="_blank">Introduction </a></li><li>February: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2022/02/word-of-year-2022-disciplines-2-showers.html" target="_blank">Showers</a></li><li>June: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2022/06/word-of-year-disciplines-6-daily-walks.html" target="_blank">Daily Walks</a> </li><li>July: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2022/07/word-of-year-disciplines-7-work-schedule.html" target="_blank">A Work Schedule</a> </li><li>August: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2022/08/word-of-year-disciplines-8-gone-dark.html" target="_blank">Gone Dark</a></li></ul><p><br /></p><p> <b><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">2023: Fear</span></b></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>January: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/01/2023-word-of-year-fear-looking-into.html" target="_blank">Looking Into the Abyss Without Falling In</a></li><li>February: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/02/2023-word-of-year-fear-fuck-everything.html" target="_blank">Fuck Everything And Run</a> </li><li>March: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/03/2023-word-of-year-fear-forgetting.html" target="_blank">Forgetting Everything's All Right</a> </li><li>April: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/04/2023-word-of-year-fear-take-more-risks.html" target="_blank">"Take More Risks"</a></li><li>May: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/05/2023-word-of-year-fear-feelings.html" target="_blank">Feelings Expressed Allow Relief</a></li><li>June: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/06/2023-word-of-year-fear-face-everything.html" target="_blank">Face Everything And ... Rise</a></li><li>July: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/07/2023-word-of-year-fear-frustration-ego.html" target="_blank">Frustration, Ego, Anxiety, Resentment</a></li><li>August: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/08/2023-word-of-year-fear-face-everything.html" target="_blank">Face Everything And Recover</a> </li><li>September: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/09/2023-word-of-year-fear-freedom-and.html" target="_blank">Freedom and Imprisonment</a></li></ul><p></p><p><br /></p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-53104557463021684872023-12-02T05:00:00.057-06:002023-12-02T05:00:00.134-06:0010 Years Ago: Christmas Eve in Louisiana and a Look at Christmas Eve Past<p>Original post <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2013/12/christmas-eve-in-louisiana-and-look-at.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </p><p><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><b>Other Christmases</b></span>: </p><p>2012: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2012/12/alamogordo-christmas-coming.html" target="_blank">Alamogordo, New Mexico</a></p><p>2013: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2013/12/louisiana-pierre-part-christmas-parade.html" target="_blank">Louisiana: Pierre Part: Christmas Parade and Gumbo</a> <br /></p><p>2017: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2018/05/ferguson-northern-lights-christmas.html" target="_blank">Ferguson, Missouri</a></p><p>2019: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2019/12/road-trip-to-livingston-texas-part-4.html" target="_blank">Livingston, Texas</a></p><p>2021: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/12/mobile-alabama-christmas-2021.html" target="_blank">Mobile, Alabama</a></p><p></p><h4 class="date-header" style="text-align: left;"><span>Wednesday, December 25, 2013</span></h4>
<a name="7181266481962557934"></a>
<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">
Christmas Eve in Louisiana and a Look at Christmas Eve Past
</span></h3>
<div class="post-header">
<div class="post-header-line-1"></div>
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhByyQL7yvaziKq2Bm7GMwvCq9Cle8aZZ1IKA-qooj36-glfjLbJIa5B3d4S4-I6KI0GSfndabZCuCmFGGo_fpdhAckbl1Uz921ZiRNg150oxQpn-PojqvwzWtfY48oxwrAILuatCpu8LQP/s1600/Santa+Fe+-+Christmas+Eve+5.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Christmas Eve 2012 on Canyon Drive, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhByyQL7yvaziKq2Bm7GMwvCq9Cle8aZZ1IKA-qooj36-glfjLbJIa5B3d4S4-I6KI0GSfndabZCuCmFGGo_fpdhAckbl1Uz921ZiRNg150oxQpn-PojqvwzWtfY48oxwrAILuatCpu8LQP/w640-h480/Santa+Fe+-+Christmas+Eve+5.JPG" title="Christmas Eve 2012 on Canyon Drive, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas Eve 2012 on Canyon Drive, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Credit: Mzuriana.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Last year, my mother and sister and I were <a href="http://livingrootless.blogspot.com/2013/01/santa-fe-new-mexico-christmas.html" target="_blank">in Santa Fe for Christmas</a>. The folks at the <a href="http://santafesilversaddlemotel.com/" target="_blank">Silver Saddle Motel</a> were so kind to invite us and some other motel guests to join them on the traditional farolito walk on Canyon Drive.<br />
<br />
Today, Christmas Eve in Lafayette, I remembered how special it was to enter the <a href="http://livingrootless.blogspot.com/2012/12/mescalero-new-mexico-st-joseph-apache.html" target="_blank">St. Joseph Apache Mission Church</a> in Mescalero, New Mexico, during Christmas season last year. My mother and I visited <a href="http://www.stjosephmission.org/" target="_blank">the church</a> once when it was empty, and we also attended Mass. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEienrLAXqWOINjBHu8x8xFf0DYk1wHc_wcMJU30TGSD0jRwz7Mwi400y2p7pZbMhHZnmO87cwpr6VcrZ4gTf5JejdNWmMPXBR2DeeKXSD1aC8_PpqNJBeoh03Drwu0ID-6owAIuTSMd-f_s/s1600/Mescalero+-+St.+Joseph+Apache+Mission+Church+3.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="St. Joseph Apache Mission Church, Mescalero, New Mexico. December 2012.Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEienrLAXqWOINjBHu8x8xFf0DYk1wHc_wcMJU30TGSD0jRwz7Mwi400y2p7pZbMhHZnmO87cwpr6VcrZ4gTf5JejdNWmMPXBR2DeeKXSD1aC8_PpqNJBeoh03Drwu0ID-6owAIuTSMd-f_s/w640-h480/Mescalero+-+St.+Joseph+Apache+Mission+Church+3.JPG" title="St. Joseph Apache Mission Church, Mescalero, New Mexico. December 2012.Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Joseph Apache Mission Church, Mescalero, New Mexico. December 2012.Credit: Mzuriana.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
What a beautiful space.<br />
<br />
So today, it made sense to me to attend a Mass this year also.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhO35y_IbLOtJlewaLh4Rd8f8jeIR1CtyIhncqddmNBBm17iabrMMXN9ya3IGQ_nt0ZCZPjJKxttwzWVAnZTt_yy1bxAjGMWOVj8Cn8RTIbV34Vn9BCaVdPKQeCUTb4xLnCiqgwLtUGrkx/s1600/Lafayette+-+St.+Mary+Mother+Church+2.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="St. Mary Mother of the Church, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="485" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhO35y_IbLOtJlewaLh4Rd8f8jeIR1CtyIhncqddmNBBm17iabrMMXN9ya3IGQ_nt0ZCZPjJKxttwzWVAnZTt_yy1bxAjGMWOVj8Cn8RTIbV34Vn9BCaVdPKQeCUTb4xLnCiqgwLtUGrkx/w640-h485/Lafayette+-+St.+Mary+Mother+Church+2.JPG" title="St. Mary Mother of the Church, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Mary Mother of the Church, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
A new friend is in the choir at St. Mary Mother of the Church, so that's
where I went. Heard graceful song and breathed deeply of the exotic
frankincense.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisz17mRQQLHxAzhFWkpjkthHillE1R7zCm0z0zDPSTZuHf06d-as1lbGEp8_c2W0ZnLw5DKHXhba9wTPZPyVKC1ha1Ps39xTlYc7N_lsvYvtPS_twnhQ5RB5JdrFtIqHWBiO96NE1XZufV/s1600/Lafayette+-+St.+Mary+Mother+Church+1.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="St. Mary Mother of the Church, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisz17mRQQLHxAzhFWkpjkthHillE1R7zCm0z0zDPSTZuHf06d-as1lbGEp8_c2W0ZnLw5DKHXhba9wTPZPyVKC1ha1Ps39xTlYc7N_lsvYvtPS_twnhQ5RB5JdrFtIqHWBiO96NE1XZufV/w539-h640/Lafayette+-+St.+Mary+Mother+Church+1.JPG" title="St. Mary Mother of the Church, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="539" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Mary Mother of the Church, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
... and then, I thought, what the hell - no I mean <i>heck</i>, because, shhh, we're in church! - what about going to midnight Mass?<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxw2uvZTpaD9eKIvMz_hdx3PMvVkbaGSimBI95O4G2Eh8LtaJTx7cvMpd-t07234M_xBDBOEDJY-JDk8Lm7vUcQb8HyaA-R0EPFTATZUUd5JI0tqvqDsfWCNKaA9ciIFxt2Gheu3boIfK/s1600/Lafayette+-+Lady+of+Wisdom+1.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxw2uvZTpaD9eKIvMz_hdx3PMvVkbaGSimBI95O4G2Eh8LtaJTx7cvMpd-t07234M_xBDBOEDJY-JDk8Lm7vUcQb8HyaA-R0EPFTATZUUd5JI0tqvqDsfWCNKaA9ciIFxt2Gheu3boIfK/w640-h520/Lafayette+-+Lady+of+Wisdom+1.JPG" title="Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
For this, I selected <a href="http://ourladyofwisdom.org/" target="_blank">Our Lady of Wisdom</a> Church on St. Mary's Boulevard, on the University of Louisiana - Lafayette campus.<br />
<br />
I'm so glad I did.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyTSe8FoN8FWT5O0sOON-7TAqDuUMRqPulE8eUc0QZqMGAmKM3Erv0mrVc8JTIJtCYcxH0GRkMhm6Rn4CbTOCUvn55HjhZM95-O_1T0YuLoSK8Xt_m6b8blUehsiQcCoku8Ygw7oniC9Go/s1600/Lafayette+-+Lady+of+Wisdom+2.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyTSe8FoN8FWT5O0sOON-7TAqDuUMRqPulE8eUc0QZqMGAmKM3Erv0mrVc8JTIJtCYcxH0GRkMhm6Rn4CbTOCUvn55HjhZM95-O_1T0YuLoSK8Xt_m6b8blUehsiQcCoku8Ygw7oniC9Go/w480-h640/Lafayette+-+Lady+of+Wisdom+2.JPG" title="Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The church was full but not overcrowded. The altar is an open one where
there is seating in front and in back. Or better said, the altar is set
perpendicular to the attendees.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_vU_Ugbm6aaMfKdicGFWYDlm5z2900Q6idKFqq9pZmw8OqQBnq19SAPS-JDlia_1fcwYWfjubGCa9_Qv35Br1FPjm3iFHJurItGHU8nDd6roQB1Kd_MBlgfwKz-W-pB8FNqaKN3OgJYk/s1600/Lafayette+-+Lady+of+Wisdom+5.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_vU_Ugbm6aaMfKdicGFWYDlm5z2900Q6idKFqq9pZmw8OqQBnq19SAPS-JDlia_1fcwYWfjubGCa9_Qv35Br1FPjm3iFHJurItGHU8nDd6roQB1Kd_MBlgfwKz-W-pB8FNqaKN3OgJYk/w515-h640/Lafayette+-+Lady+of+Wisdom+5.JPG" title="Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="515" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The music, vocal and instrumental, was exquisite, and the acoustics or
sound system or both, superb. Violins, cello, deep drums, soaring voices
en masse and solo and twinned. It was possible to close one's eyes and
simply dwell in the sound .... there were a few moments where it <a href="http://livingrootless.blogspot.com/2013/06/truth-or-consquences-nm-just-soaking.html" target="_blank">felt like being in the lapping water</a> in the hot springs of Truth and Consequences.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieC7Z0Ca_JQ4wnb_MwIjq-tALWUL8JSqy-bJ6LLNODPbbYIBXyn6FIxw4P7ktpct0SLeus425V9GxS4wxnlMnMlhvBDClUZsZFojwJvXGWjgALX7GwZFStoI0pJnto668_RqVFo_1xW5sl/s1600/Lafayette+-+Lady+of+Wisdom+3.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieC7Z0Ca_JQ4wnb_MwIjq-tALWUL8JSqy-bJ6LLNODPbbYIBXyn6FIxw4P7ktpct0SLeus425V9GxS4wxnlMnMlhvBDClUZsZFojwJvXGWjgALX7GwZFStoI0pJnto668_RqVFo_1xW5sl/w483-h640/Lafayette+-+Lady+of+Wisdom+3.JPG" title="Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="483" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The reader had a mellifluous voice; the priest(s) chanted the liturgy.
The incense and its attendant smoke rounded out the sensory experience
for the eyes, ears, and nose.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDoV-21UTWLoTTu0QRHbHQubyGGqL6zlQovf0kQRGkzB9Q2WfZJtvlVr3vXir8Sja0frXdNPS0RCkgtW5fH7TYHvbKFO7wWK-MO8qhFkKhI5pFhKM0JZZYnrG7qCqPxd-9C5szBrFc60h/s1600/Lafayette+-+Lady+of+Wisdom+4.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDoV-21UTWLoTTu0QRHbHQubyGGqL6zlQovf0kQRGkzB9Q2WfZJtvlVr3vXir8Sja0frXdNPS0RCkgtW5fH7TYHvbKFO7wWK-MO8qhFkKhI5pFhKM0JZZYnrG7qCqPxd-9C5szBrFc60h/w640-h480/Lafayette+-+Lady+of+Wisdom+4.JPG" title="Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Lady of Wisdom, Lafayette, Louisiana. December 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
What a satisfying Christmas Eve in my new land. <br />
<br />
<br />
Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-53767838159839265382023-11-14T13:13:00.002-06:002023-11-14T13:13:41.819-06:00Back in the Land of the Cold<p>The title says it all. </p><p>My nomadic year has finally closed, as yet to be written about, with me winding up in a place I least expected. In fact, it was only a couple of months ago that I responded to a friend's thought about coming here for my new tourist-in-residence: "<i>No. I've done that. No need to do it again.</i>" </p><p>And yet here I am. </p><p>Erg. The winter, though.</p><p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzRVE_XBUQLsy-hAIPqGvEHhcg3ArATrQRVPbLDxU6_iRdnHCvFquksfREIMPdvs8uYp1TUkjvSkwk1mmbySTsW-c0rQWUIHwgGZf9sceaYpvsUhJ8JOqS847dIKTJ9atPXtYYOmlYVrP4qProf0p78Re_WH_a744d_WZdmAnxRtFeYb4T-thtLrZMJzUT/s950/Paula%20-%20Cold%20at%20the%20frog%20festival%20-%20Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="711" data-original-width="950" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzRVE_XBUQLsy-hAIPqGvEHhcg3ArATrQRVPbLDxU6_iRdnHCvFquksfREIMPdvs8uYp1TUkjvSkwk1mmbySTsW-c0rQWUIHwgGZf9sceaYpvsUhJ8JOqS847dIKTJ9atPXtYYOmlYVrP4qProf0p78Re_WH_a744d_WZdmAnxRtFeYb4T-thtLrZMJzUT/w640-h478/Paula%20-%20Cold%20at%20the%20frog%20festival%20-%20Copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">November 15, 2014. <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2014/11/louisiana-rayne-frog-festival.html" target="_blank">Rayne Frog Festival</a>, Louisiana.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>No, not in Rayne. I still have that scarf, though.<br /></p><p><br /></p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-91322108858421069672023-11-02T06:00:00.092-05:002023-11-02T06:00:00.152-05:0010 Years Ago: The Rootless Relocation Interregnum Fog<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGCzj6Zsc-XYKT0iO5YBZyjHiRhpKW4dDv9T3jW2eZ1ABj0TH9hxJXF-PSJNpBV3INkqm1ftwdQ7EYyyCGK4yq1_q4hc5i0-l-XJK-pjH3k5tftowvvjmq7w0J6GqzJWaGecxDshtP2gBFwgVfm9QiwMQg7AtVB8SlHxVhy59o-nHMLzz946IRovxQig/s1953/Lake%20Fausse%20Point%20SP%20-%20morning%20mist%20-%2029%20nov%202013.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Lake Fausse Point State Park, Louisiana. Morning mist. November 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="1615" data-original-width="1953" height="530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGCzj6Zsc-XYKT0iO5YBZyjHiRhpKW4dDv9T3jW2eZ1ABj0TH9hxJXF-PSJNpBV3INkqm1ftwdQ7EYyyCGK4yq1_q4hc5i0-l-XJK-pjH3k5tftowvvjmq7w0J6GqzJWaGecxDshtP2gBFwgVfm9QiwMQg7AtVB8SlHxVhy59o-nHMLzz946IRovxQig/w640-h530/Lake%20Fausse%20Point%20SP%20-%20morning%20mist%20-%2029%20nov%202013.JPG" title="Lake Fausse Point State Park, Louisiana. Morning mist. November 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Fausse Point State Park, Louisiana. Morning mist. November 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Original post <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2013/11/the-rootless-relocation-interregnum-fog.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </p><p></p><p>It is timely to revisit this ten-year old post. Things have been foggy to various degrees since the onset of our COVID times. Multiple reasons, I suspect:<br /></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Isolation from typical social activities, whether they be at old, familiar places or new. </li><li>The inability to embed myself into a community as I used to do - my temporary residences in Birmingham and Mobile were largely, although not exclusively, solitary times. </li><li>Deaths - of my mother, three aunts, and three people who were in my Tucson and El Paso circles.</li><li>A professional upheaval due to a cascade of events, including COVID (of course), war, economy changes, and an untenable universal policy change by my heretofore good-enough, online teaching platform "home."</li><li>Unrelenting toxicity from Trumpian quarters, white supremacists, nationalists, and conspiracy theorists or burn-the-witch-superstitious anti-vaxxers, et al. <br /></li></ul><p></p><p><span>These are heart-heavy times.<br /></span></p><p><span>As a counterweight, below is a magnificent smile by a joyous man in Gardabani, Caucasus Georgia. Still foggy, perhaps, but a happy little weather front, brought in by some wine, joyfully shared by the host of a spontaneous feast for strangers from another country. </span></p><p><span><br /></span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXW1k3c2rIbbyjKuXKQzzzhjn7FTSk9urCajUOg6a9SWGC1xZ1K3vdR3g_Y_LI300gTgja1SMEUjuayX2frOdvuEDZKxVnGC9uepVGPzREvmcVpjiH23vhhNjUbNqv7c5GWc1-DRS5f63RcmP0Trj6hc25UrvlqHk7Tt4LRcDAmGMufBffKIuy0DMcxA/s960/Gardabani%20host%20and%20Romeo%20-%20Eva%20K.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="A magnificent smile in Gardabani, Caucasus Georgia. June 2012. Credit: Eva K" border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXW1k3c2rIbbyjKuXKQzzzhjn7FTSk9urCajUOg6a9SWGC1xZ1K3vdR3g_Y_LI300gTgja1SMEUjuayX2frOdvuEDZKxVnGC9uepVGPzREvmcVpjiH23vhhNjUbNqv7c5GWc1-DRS5f63RcmP0Trj6hc25UrvlqHk7Tt4LRcDAmGMufBffKIuy0DMcxA/w480-h640/Gardabani%20host%20and%20Romeo%20-%20Eva%20K.jpg" title="A magnificent smile in Gardabani, Caucasus Georgia. June 2012. Credit: Eva K" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A magnificent smile in Gardabani, Caucasus Georgia. June 2012. Credit: Eva K</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span><br /></span></p><p><b><span>Saturday, November 2, 2013</span></b></p>
<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name">
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span>The Rootless Relocation Interregnum Fog
</span></span></h3>
<div class="post-header">
<div class="post-header-line-1"></div>
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJILfZudeAlQh5_ioFLc4yI-mpf9CIsnigvKAlA5MV2m2oLr69LJ-Ry0hsej2SdnetDEoHnzjixojAw5yaoZRrdl29i_PqGyn76HDuyHk6TlEX_teQcROXuqRi-P067b62-c1DtcvL3VR/s1600/Oliver+Lee+Park+-+Fog+in+the+morning.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, New Mexico. September 2012. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJILfZudeAlQh5_ioFLc4yI-mpf9CIsnigvKAlA5MV2m2oLr69LJ-Ry0hsej2SdnetDEoHnzjixojAw5yaoZRrdl29i_PqGyn76HDuyHk6TlEX_teQcROXuqRi-P067b62-c1DtcvL3VR/w640-h480/Oliver+Lee+Park+-+Fog+in+the+morning.JPG" title="Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, New Mexico. September 2012. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, New Mexico. September 2012. Credit: Mzuriana.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I didn't know about this, but now having experienced it, I suspect it's a
thing. The rootless relocation interregnum fog. Where there's only so
much room in your front lobal and it's packed with too much social
stimuli and routine things fall by the wayside. You don't even think
about them. Like writing. Or communicating.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2KKetcg0i-oeDPblLM8kd3aZjRLm15tsJhpvt72TG1gIHu9D2H51xoaVGK5C_fPVds8Tu7-oRLqo3_otMQBQoL9fZPDUhRJ5wlhYM2Bvgyg4hYuDNu6fvRnPQ_NoB31aSqfmB_A3348g/s1600/Alamogordo+-+Lady+in+mist+.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Lady of the Mist. Alamogordo, New Mexico. June 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2KKetcg0i-oeDPblLM8kd3aZjRLm15tsJhpvt72TG1gIHu9D2H51xoaVGK5C_fPVds8Tu7-oRLqo3_otMQBQoL9fZPDUhRJ5wlhYM2Bvgyg4hYuDNu6fvRnPQ_NoB31aSqfmB_A3348g/w640-h472/Alamogordo+-+Lady+in+mist+.JPG" title="Lady of the Mist. Alamogordo, New Mexico. June 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lady of the Mist. Alamogordo, New Mexico. June 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I left New Mexico at the end of September and now here it's November and
I'm soon to leave my transitory stop in Missouri for Louisiana, and I
haven't written about some very cool things still in New Mexico. Or much
about the road trip with Carol to North Carolina and Tennessee.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi56CNqgdZTnxwD_NKtFBpNencXJ7tyQ07usZ3fHmunRhZnkiW9CixgJ8yYKaCqgSuqkNEyRVC6sEMxzVeaURGo-OinNUQlxnSMn0Ko9S4e1KU-iMKAUYQsBr0_5LlHg8eah2pX4Yvrm5K9/s1600/Kutaisi+-+Sunday+morn+snow+2.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Kutaisi, Georgia. Snow in the morning. February 2012. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi56CNqgdZTnxwD_NKtFBpNencXJ7tyQ07usZ3fHmunRhZnkiW9CixgJ8yYKaCqgSuqkNEyRVC6sEMxzVeaURGo-OinNUQlxnSMn0Ko9S4e1KU-iMKAUYQsBr0_5LlHg8eah2pX4Yvrm5K9/w640-h480/Kutaisi+-+Sunday+morn+snow+2.JPG" title="Kutaisi, Georgia. Snow in the morning. February 2012. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kutaisi, Georgia. Snow in the morning. February 2012. Credit: Mzuriana.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Things are just kind of foggy.<p></p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-4421388482996953642023-10-02T06:00:00.015-05:002023-10-02T06:00:00.139-05:0010 Years Ago: Road Trip With Carol: Part 2: Chattanooga, TN: Delta Queen Hotel <p>Original post <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2013/10/chattanooga-tn-delta-queen-hotel.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </p><p>Carol was my mother. She died March 2021. </p><p><br /></p><h4 class="date-header" style="text-align: left;"><span>Thursday, October 31, 2013</span></h4>
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<span style="color: #a2c4c9;">2013 Road Trip With Carol, Part 2: Chattanooga, TN: Delta Queen Hotel </span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_o0q1f-eHb-KmI5iHdQtYy8RxGWIXOtJyrG3PbqVzBmBG7db6lsD4T0Ga_HSDHUyR0eNumSXGck5jsJk3WUb8BBK4v0CcsdK1Nh11eVAYEhNQg655enJBHKrEi6RaN1jeqmoUtUekr8Ks/s1600/Delta+Queen+Hotel+15.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="532" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_o0q1f-eHb-KmI5iHdQtYy8RxGWIXOtJyrG3PbqVzBmBG7db6lsD4T0Ga_HSDHUyR0eNumSXGck5jsJk3WUb8BBK4v0CcsdK1Nh11eVAYEhNQg655enJBHKrEi6RaN1jeqmoUtUekr8Ks/w640-h532/Delta+Queen+Hotel+15.JPG" title="Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.<br /></td></tr>
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<i>My mother, Carol, and I are on a road trip that takes us through North Carolina and Tennessee.</i><br />
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In Chattanooga, we stayed at the <a href="http://www.deltaqueenhotel.net/">Delta Queen Hotel</a>, permanently moored on the Tennessee River, alongside the pleasing <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coolidge_Park">Coolidge Park</a> with its fountain, walking/biking trails, and green space.<br />
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People who reconstitute historic structures can go <a href="http://livingrootless.blogspot.com/2012/05/svaneti-part-4-aside-on-preservation-v.html">so many ways to salvage a place</a>.
There's renovation, preservation, reproduction, rehabilitation, and
conservation. A few days earlier, we'd lunched at a "historic"
restaurant in Kentucky that still held its plantation-ish exterior, but
its insides had drop ceilings, ersatz colonial-style "chandeliers,"
mediocre local wall art, and institutional-grade carpet.<br />
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What a difference between that and the Delta Queen Hotel!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiza8wNrHwt48xL032tDUEhPchliqRNyWiCJnPf_eBDX8YZkAQykzjUveWOK5XLOAPFKUcEEBV796uGyncQKp8zGvihY054wQQybsd0vzjHCq40_qWJX2KbA1bpgB7Rq3xQlQ_66WBSrqEY/s1600/Delta+Queen+Hotel+1.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiza8wNrHwt48xL032tDUEhPchliqRNyWiCJnPf_eBDX8YZkAQykzjUveWOK5XLOAPFKUcEEBV796uGyncQKp8zGvihY054wQQybsd0vzjHCq40_qWJX2KbA1bpgB7Rq3xQlQ_66WBSrqEY/w400-h300/Delta+Queen+Hotel+1.JPG" title="Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr>
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The room, albeit tiny, felt luxe. Looking out the window onto the river
reminded me of the luxury of lying back and watching the full moon on
that overnight train trip Sandy and I took <a href="http://livingrootless.blogspot.com/2012/04/black-sea-part-5-train-to-tbilisi.html">from Batumi to Tbilisi</a>.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ZpPl1MbXkAJ6Agb5QyGHaUovFC6YCsJLvJmGL-ilPBr4hwUnfyKMCbrmH7QuRkFbuJHdba00BKn2jW8_9yJPrnAZpGWnvzPNPc76G37qHa6XQbMp9geVDP21ubTsP14MBoUg-Fh_oj6a/s1600/Delta+Queen+Hotel+13.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ZpPl1MbXkAJ6Agb5QyGHaUovFC6YCsJLvJmGL-ilPBr4hwUnfyKMCbrmH7QuRkFbuJHdba00BKn2jW8_9yJPrnAZpGWnvzPNPc76G37qHa6XQbMp9geVDP21ubTsP14MBoUg-Fh_oj6a/w640-h464/Delta+Queen+Hotel+13.JPG" title="Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr>
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The interior, common areas of the boat glowed with the ambiance of
early-20th century salons. Sofas, game tables, dressers, low lighting,
tray ceilings, wainscoting.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGUjFjoUzkl3A3zX2rsqQjQZ-PsRVqp-pESbgkGe0S2GT8OJwplhPU5lYwxyTIVHOZHgltLdZ8Kl2zluIJN1OjKUNKGyG_7V2gJJrvmifMizpGTyzJfIegJ5J78L-kPtzrZCM-3ZJx2Yj/s1600/Delta+Queen+Hotel+12.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGUjFjoUzkl3A3zX2rsqQjQZ-PsRVqp-pESbgkGe0S2GT8OJwplhPU5lYwxyTIVHOZHgltLdZ8Kl2zluIJN1OjKUNKGyG_7V2gJJrvmifMizpGTyzJfIegJ5J78L-kPtzrZCM-3ZJx2Yj/w300-h400/Delta+Queen+Hotel+12.JPG" title="Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr>
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On the deck one can rock slowly into a meditative state while boat
traffic floats or zooms by, while walkers and bikers cross the
pedestrian bridge, while cars and trucks thrum over the other bridge.
Looking across the river is a bank of new construction that is
reminiscent of Dutch or Eastern European waterside apartment buildings.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kC8tkU5-ni_PFXKfDbax3b8zAL9op7JYEe8PJZ604xuTwwY-LI0PYtBsCuz5iYQJufMM6xGe8OcRUAtpTA2EmVc93tdXFBtMPCwWosGlj4FD3AkFqFynUvPWN-VRdn62ShSTdifyMfTP/s1600/Delta+Queen+Hotel+9.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kC8tkU5-ni_PFXKfDbax3b8zAL9op7JYEe8PJZ604xuTwwY-LI0PYtBsCuz5iYQJufMM6xGe8OcRUAtpTA2EmVc93tdXFBtMPCwWosGlj4FD3AkFqFynUvPWN-VRdn62ShSTdifyMfTP/w400-h300/Delta+Queen+Hotel+9.JPG" title="Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr>
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On a clear night, the stars compete with the lights on the bridges. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv_IP_v3tuZJgM-1m727NVfh8iwQfUxbtC0AnJRb_tokVkuDvC4SL_dP1DCCMteMzfm1OSUNHAW1MhCSYCqGOXN3gg_9nEqT_1suEr3SluExfg7_SPbfwM41YI1JuLmjp7Ai9aSk6AsAbN/s1600/Delta+Queen+Hotel+11.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv_IP_v3tuZJgM-1m727NVfh8iwQfUxbtC0AnJRb_tokVkuDvC4SL_dP1DCCMteMzfm1OSUNHAW1MhCSYCqGOXN3gg_9nEqT_1suEr3SluExfg7_SPbfwM41YI1JuLmjp7Ai9aSk6AsAbN/w400-h300/Delta+Queen+Hotel+11.JPG" title="Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise at the Delta Queen Hotel, Tennessee River, Chattanooga, Tennessee, October 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr>
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People who love the Delta Queen had to have played a part in preserving
what made it the Delta Queen when it was in its prime. Beautifully done.<br />
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Gifts like this - being able to spend the night on a historic riverboat
at a price that is affordable for many - don't last forever. I wouldn't
delay in spending at least one night here in the near future.<br />
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<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span><b>Some notes</b></span></span>:<br />
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<ul><li>The hotel is not accessible for the wheelchair-bound. I don't know
if there is an accessible sleeping room for individuals who have other
kinds of access issues. </li><li>There is pretty good wifi available in the common areas, including on the deck.</li><li>No TVs or phones in the rooms. There are a couple of TVs in the lounge. </li><li>Parking is a pretty far piece from the boat, so pack lightly for your stay and leave the bulkier stuff in your vehicle. </li><li>The location of the boat is fabulous - on walking trails and near restaurants and night life. </li></ul><p>
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<span style="color: #a2c4c9;">A slide show, which includes a photo of Carol</span>: </b></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" data-footer="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/hailebet/albums/72177720304532220" title="Chattanooga"><img alt="Chattanooga" height="375" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/5494/10626784306_380de7951b.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;">#30 <br /></p><p></p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-9823371720481786852023-10-01T07:00:00.102-05:002024-03-08T16:02:24.542-06:002023 Word of the Year: FEAR: Don't Feed the Alligators<p> </p><p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBM4SbicolaNi6OT-k_kA1l7eREys_ZsnvoIPmCSq4iT-X6PCYwp5ZBopANnMDCuimIuwCC3tDPM1tlKpA5pVf_Tm0cqWaGxOSj3hYlvDCXHbARkLYB7QXYFcG8bx8YLx0wEEtRTKmjA-OCnFPA8B0q47HNV7P4xsvO9VfDoRX-Q8eTeMLEE9cYGq6SUuv/s1600/Leroy%20Percy%20State%20Park%20-%20gator%20sign.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Don't Feed the Gators. Leroy Percy State Park. Mississippi. December 2011. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBM4SbicolaNi6OT-k_kA1l7eREys_ZsnvoIPmCSq4iT-X6PCYwp5ZBopANnMDCuimIuwCC3tDPM1tlKpA5pVf_Tm0cqWaGxOSj3hYlvDCXHbARkLYB7QXYFcG8bx8YLx0wEEtRTKmjA-OCnFPA8B0q47HNV7P4xsvO9VfDoRX-Q8eTeMLEE9cYGq6SUuv/w640-h480/Leroy%20Percy%20State%20Park%20-%20gator%20sign.JPG" title="Don't Feed the Gators. Leroy Percy State Park. Mississippi. December 2011. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't Feed the Gators. Leroy Percy State Park. Mississippi. December 2011. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>Back in Alamogordo times, I was laying in one of my thrift-store hospital beds, and suddenly laughed out loud. I had been reinventing history via an imaginary conversation between me and some antagonist-of-the-moment from the past - you know, the conversation that <i>should </i>have happened, but didn't. The conversation in which I would have vanquished my foe-of-the-moment with my Michonne-sword wit. <br /></p><p>This was the day when I realized that my omnivore brain will guzzle <i>any </i>emotional<i> </i>cocktail that my amygdala, hypothalamus, or pituitary serves up, with not one fuck given for its taste, quality, or provenance. My brain is like that tiger shark in Jaws, which indiscriminately scoops up anything into its mouth that might be food, even if it's a Louisiana license plate.</p><p>Is it ironic that an antidote for this fear churn is the <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/08/word-of-year-joy-8-here-and-now-boys.html" target="_blank">same recipe as that for joy</a>? I dunno about that, but I repeat it here:</p><p><i>When I catch myself in a fruitless exercise of rewriting my past or fretting about a future, I say aloud: Here and now, boys, here and now! </i></p><p><i>Look around you, girl. Live where you be now. </i></p><i>It is inside moments, even in fearful times, where I can see joy. </i><p><a href="https://www.med.navy.mil/Portals/62/Documents/NMFA/NMCPHC/root/Documents/health-promotion-wellness/psychological-emotional-wellbeing/Combat-Tactical-Breathing.pdf" target="_blank">Combat breathing</a> is also good. </p><p> </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOkV8t0-o09w2OeSfDl5Dl5qQzdIO6VSkle-k7D88TERTGO5xH0-b87QNI2NtMErN3v9EuPUkK_9syK0nJvoyqHkWxJhQwTC5qBRTXUh-ldQu13D07cqcroTijZgC2geqwdu62bqKROS-OL7JH7yx_uWJLD7hwY7W0SawUNgqPODdPNbftM_-CIQmhfLBe/s2272/Alligators%20are%20dangerous%20(2).JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Alligators are dangerous. New Iberia, Louisiana. March 2015. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="1704" data-original-width="2272" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOkV8t0-o09w2OeSfDl5Dl5qQzdIO6VSkle-k7D88TERTGO5xH0-b87QNI2NtMErN3v9EuPUkK_9syK0nJvoyqHkWxJhQwTC5qBRTXUh-ldQu13D07cqcroTijZgC2geqwdu62bqKROS-OL7JH7yx_uWJLD7hwY7W0SawUNgqPODdPNbftM_-CIQmhfLBe/w640-h480/Alligators%20are%20dangerous%20(2).JPG" title="Alligators are dangerous. New Iberia, Louisiana. March 2015. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alligators are dangerous. New Iberia, Louisiana. March 2015. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table> </p><p>Yeah, and so those are helpful tools. But when fear turns chronic, such as in PTSD in its various permutations, there is no quick cure. You don't just snap out of it. For a long while, the best you can hope for - strive for - is fear <i>management</i>, until your healthy reserves slowly creep up to a level where you can actually think of <i>healing</i>. Whatever healing looks like. <br /></p><p>I'm smiling in this moment because I'm thinking of snails I have encountered. It takes a goodly while for a snail to poke its head outside its shell again after a retreat into its safety. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMk65o9GNayJrYN5ruNpm2bjTktn50GBErJ9rQxqYv1bn6n963JqBxbMMn1rw2ZdbVRniEUyTpcligGQmpuwAeFtdxmXxKUsWOKphlXAoes7CCZFms6c5RYX0cji7EHcqf_iUuj6AL3juhSeEIqcQUeVo0ohkL1F86qXx1aR2lxuh1AbO-ymznayQRnuA6/s892/Gori%20-%20Snail.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Snail in Gori, Caucasus Georgia. August 2011. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="793" data-original-width="892" height="568" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMk65o9GNayJrYN5ruNpm2bjTktn50GBErJ9rQxqYv1bn6n963JqBxbMMn1rw2ZdbVRniEUyTpcligGQmpuwAeFtdxmXxKUsWOKphlXAoes7CCZFms6c5RYX0cji7EHcqf_iUuj6AL3juhSeEIqcQUeVo0ohkL1F86qXx1aR2lxuh1AbO-ymznayQRnuA6/w640-h568/Gori%20-%20Snail.JPG" title="Snail in Gori, Caucasus Georgia. August 2011. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snail in Gori, Caucasus Georgia. August 2011. Credit: <a href="https://flic.kr/p/fjRLor" target="_blank">Mzuriana</a>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><p></p><p><b><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">The 2023 word of the year thus far</span></b> <br /></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>January: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/01/2023-word-of-year-fear-looking-into.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Looking Into the Abyss Without Falling In</a></li><li>February: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/02/2023-word-of-year-fear-fuck-everything.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Fuck Everything And Run</a></li><li>March: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/03/2023-word-of-year-fear-forgetting.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Forgetting Everything's All Right</a></li><li>April: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/04/2023-word-of-year-fear-take-more-risks.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Take More Risks</a></li><li>May: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/05/2023-word-of-year-fear-feelings.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Feelings Expressed Allow Relief</a></li><li>June: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/06/2023-word-of-year-fear-face-everything.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Face Everything And ... Rise</a></li><li>July: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/07/2023-word-of-year-fear-frustration-ego.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Frustration, Ego, Anxiety, Resentment</a></li><li>August: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/08/2023-word-of-year-fear-face-everything.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Face Everything And ... Recover </a></li><li>September: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/09/2023-word-of-year-fear-freedom-and.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Freedom and Imprisonment</a> </li></ol><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p> <br /></p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-16430464445956835722023-09-28T06:00:00.102-05:002023-09-28T06:00:00.148-05:0013 Years Ago Today, I Went Rootless<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIzPH8Z7IdaGGGPD-Ym8ClkthJY1pSB0ddLTsIIm0hH3F4EuI6axd2PoivJn1ilg7-tddXVrTbVcdtD_MTv53LXQ9gRZVTr-CC-6mxaMWwXszaEUAv5TYnPPUifqrxP3jCJ81VtEp-bBAPio0KrDwUx6iGdEJP4eaEl7pNTe5_1PCvdHTjZ1FYTexRfA/s2873/Opelousas%20holy%20tree%202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Opelousas holy tree. Louisiana. July 2015. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="2873" height="546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIzPH8Z7IdaGGGPD-Ym8ClkthJY1pSB0ddLTsIIm0hH3F4EuI6axd2PoivJn1ilg7-tddXVrTbVcdtD_MTv53LXQ9gRZVTr-CC-6mxaMWwXszaEUAv5TYnPPUifqrxP3jCJ81VtEp-bBAPio0KrDwUx6iGdEJP4eaEl7pNTe5_1PCvdHTjZ1FYTexRfA/w640-h546/Opelousas%20holy%20tree%202.JPG" title="Opelousas holy tree. Louisiana. July 2015. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://flic.kr/s/aHskN5gquD" target="_blank">Opelousas holy tree</a>. Louisiana. July 2015. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p>13 years ago today, I went rootless. <br /></p><p>How did I get so lucky to be able to have done this? </p><p>"Lucky" is a superficial summary of how I got here. Truth is, although luck has played a prominent role, so did course-changing events that were not so luckified, the top three of which were heartbreak, the slo-mo ripples of The Great Recession, and the prosaic fact that I was of an age when my daughter, Kit, was an adult and out of the nest. </p><p>And aren't such seismic life events that which has catalyzed similar tracks?<br /></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2021/10/21/books/review-eat-pray-love-elizabeth-gilbert.html" target="_blank">Eat, Pray, Love</a>, by Elizabeth Gilbert<br /></li><li><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2012/08/12/travel/cheryl-strayed-author-of-wild-on-returning-to-her-trail-of-tears.html" target="_blank">Wild</a>, by Cheryl Strayed</li></ul><p>Other variables that got me out the door and into the beyond: </p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>Being debt-free, having paid off my student loans (took me ten years) and having purposefully kept my debt load low, such as paying off my credit card charges in full each month and living below my means; </li><li>Having that dream of travel and adventure already embedded in my soul from adolescence; and</li><li>Although I had experienced poverty (and I don't use that word glibly), I was not generationally poor (which makes a difference), and ... I had privilege due to a number of variables, not the least of which was that I had been born into and raised in a white, middle-class environment. </li></ol><p>All of which is to say: I don't take any of this for granted. </p><p></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><b>Related posts, from oldest to newest</b></span><br /></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>September 28, 2010: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2010/09/divesting.html" target="_blank">I'm Going Rootless</a> <br /></li><li>September 28, 2012: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2012/09/1-and-2-years-ago-today.html" target="_blank">1 and 2 Years Ago Today</a> [I went rootless]<br /></li><li>September 28, 2013: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2013/09/three-years-ago-today-i-went-rootless.html" target="_blank">Three years ago today, I went rootless</a></li><li>September 28, 2021: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/09/11-years-ago-today-i-went-rootless.html" target="_blank">11 Years Ago Today, I Went Rootless</a> <br /></li></ul><p></p><p><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><b>But what is in my future? </b></span><br /></p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-70752063253819244252023-09-02T06:00:00.000-05:002023-09-02T06:00:00.147-05:0010 Years Ago: Rootless Relocation: Lessons Learned About Furnishing Temporary Home<p>Original post <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2013/09/rootless-relocation-lessons-learned.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </p><p><span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><b>Since 2010, I've lived as a tourist-in-residence in nine places:</b></span></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>Caucasus Georgia</li><li>Alamogordo, New Mexico</li><li>Lafayette, Louisiana</li><li>Opelousas, Louisiana</li><li>El Paso, Texas</li><li>Ferguson, Missouri <br /></li><li>Tucson, Arizona</li><li>Birmingham, Alabama</li><li>Mobile, Alabama <br /></li></ol><p></p><p>My furnishings are significantly more bare-boned than they were 10 years ago. The only piece of furniture I buy now, when relocating, is a folding chair for the table that serves as my office, dining table, and entertainment center. I made this decision in Mobile. At $24 or so, it was money well spent for a year's worth of use, and I felt fine about just giving it away when I left. <br /></p><p>I use a backcamping chair as my "easy chair" for reading or looking out a window. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxvQl9p9yLP-1xVw0ZEcZZRhhyjR9guXyEmvT9KGi-w0Y-TPvHGxtHHuE2vkPGuzXyvoZDpQVCsD6ENYWibzWS10Z3GfU01D5TkFDusR729PIVTCzQyepgyvoNi_f6_691LuG5HJaQ4KQdxHkeluTXXpwq94E_g3WXh1TTDSduy5V_Bfc9TWTqP1QKsA/s4864/Birmingham%20AL-living%20room%20furniture.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="My living room furniture since 2020. Birmingham, Alabama. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="4864" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxvQl9p9yLP-1xVw0ZEcZZRhhyjR9guXyEmvT9KGi-w0Y-TPvHGxtHHuE2vkPGuzXyvoZDpQVCsD6ENYWibzWS10Z3GfU01D5TkFDusR729PIVTCzQyepgyvoNi_f6_691LuG5HJaQ4KQdxHkeluTXXpwq94E_g3WXh1TTDSduy5V_Bfc9TWTqP1QKsA/w640-h480/Birmingham%20AL-living%20room%20furniture.JPG" title="My living room furniture since 2020. Birmingham, Alabama. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My living room furniture since 2020. Birmingham, Alabama. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table> <br /><p></p><p>I sleep on the same airbed model that I used in the original post. Thus far, my current one has survived for three years. In Birmingham, I acquired a new electric mattress pad and a new electric throw to keep warm on cold winter nights. I bought a pretty quilt for my top cover at a thrift store in Birmingham. </p><p>In Mobile, I bought a tallish folding camp table to serve as a side table by the camp chair. </p><p></p><p>But below were my learnings from 2013. <br /></p><h4 class="date-header" style="text-align: left;"><span>Monday, September 16, 2013</span></h4>
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<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">
Rootless Relocation: Lessons Learned About Furnishing Temporary Home
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFUwLBAznxMANyUpzfdiiw-Z0wauM9SajrMTyMnEk7nYQbQfs3MBF6QITSAki9lm1m_vxlWFimHq7WRA4ZJOyRmBs8FUtxUs8pFeWDsgH-3mnvCJgNC181D9O0_KR9JyE9Eo6O0IM3eMM/s1600/My+apt+-+all+my+stuff.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Most of the stuff I brought with me to Alamogordo" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFUwLBAznxMANyUpzfdiiw-Z0wauM9SajrMTyMnEk7nYQbQfs3MBF6QITSAki9lm1m_vxlWFimHq7WRA4ZJOyRmBs8FUtxUs8pFeWDsgH-3mnvCJgNC181D9O0_KR9JyE9Eo6O0IM3eMM/w640-h480/My+apt+-+all+my+stuff.JPG" title="Most of the stuff I brought with me to Alamogordo" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Most of the stuff I brought with me to Alamogordo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I'll be moving again at the end of this month and all my stuff has to fit in my car.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span><b>I've got to dispose of some things</b></span></span>: <br />
<ul><li>I accumulated while in New Mexico; </li><li>I brought with me from Missouri that I no longer need; and</li><li>That I could still use, but have to unload because there are two large items from NM that I will take with me. </li></ul>
<br />
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span><b>Lessons learned</b></span></span><br />
<br />
Now that the process of furnishing and un-furnishing my temporary home is almost complete, I've learned some things.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><span><b>Beds</b></span></span><br />
<br />
Although I think my nursing-home beds are cool, they're kind of a pain to sell. Remember <a href="http://livingrootless.blogspot.com/2013/03/goodbye-sweet-bed.html" target="_blank">that airbed</a>
I liked so much? It lasted me six months of almost-daily use and it
only cost about $35. It takes standard-size sheets and it is almost as
tall as a real bed. And it's comfortable. In my new place, I believe
I'll buy another one. If it goes kablooey in six months, then I'll just
replace it. Taking into account price, portability, and labor to
hunt/find/discard a real bed, the air bed is the more economical choice.<br />
<br />
For a guest bed, a local friend gave me this very cool, dark red,
accordion-like chair that makes into a twin bed. Somehow I will fit this
into my car and I'll use it in my new place for a living room chair and
guest bed.<br />
<br />
At the point I have two guests at once, I'll get a second air bed. Ta da.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><span><b>Table and chairs</b></span></span><br />
<br />
These are easy to find, cheap to buy, and easy to re-sell. No problems here.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><span><b>Plants/pots</b></span></span><br />
<br />
I liked having my tiny herb garden and flowers in three pots. These were
easy to sell, and I will likely have another little container garden
again if I've got outdoor space in my new home.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><span><b>Bird feeder and shepherd's crook</b></span></span><br />
<br />
I bought these here in Alamogordo. I won't do this again. Although I
loved watching the visiting birds while I worked, birdseed is damned
expensive. I've discovered that the after-market for bird feeders and
shepherd's crooks is very poor, taking too long to sell them for an
abysmal price. Also, feeding the birds is really all about my
entertainment; it doesn't necessarily do any good for the birds. I might
as well be feeding feral cats.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><span><b>The volume of space</b></span></span><br />
<br />
As my apartment empties, I appreciate again the <a href="http://livingrootless.blogspot.com/2012/10/the-volume-of-space.html" target="_blank">volume of space</a>,
the lack of stuff. I was very circumspect about the visual bulk I added
to my apartment here, so there's not a whole lot I can do to better
that in my new place. The beds are one, and if I have a breakfast
counter, I won't need a table.<br />
<br />
I'm not much of an in-home entertainer, so I don't worry about guest seating - that's what cafés are for.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><span><b>Relocation cost</b></span></span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://livingrootless.blogspot.com/2012/12/rootless-relocation-part-12-how-much.html">This</a>
is what it cost me to relocate from Missouri to New Mexico last year.
The total was ~ $2070, of which $950 was for the first and last month's
rent. So now that I've consumed those two months as the cost of living,
the net relocation cost $1120.<br />
<br />
I don't know yet how much I'll recoup in the resale of stuff before I
go. I'll factor that in when I calculate my next relocation costs.<br />
<br />
There'll be some economy of scale, as I will bring the vacuum cleaner I
bought in Alamogordo with me, along with the accordion chair-bed, and a
desk lamp. Plus the printer and scanner.<br />
<br />
(In regard to doing things differently for the actual moving process, I
think my process was as tight a ship as it could have been.) <br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><span><b>On buying new versus second-hand</b></span></span><br />
<br />
I thought I'd buy more things second-hand in Alamogordo than I did. And
certainly there is no dearth of second-hand stores in Alamogordo.
However, I hate to shop, and I found it to be not-fun to schlep from one
second-hand shop to another in search of what I needed. The opportunity
costs in time, gas, and things I could have been doing that were more
fun became too high for some items. <br />
<br />
My preference is still to buy second-hand, so maybe before I go to
Lafayette, I'll try to identify the largest and best second-hand place
for household goods in that area.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><span><b>On apartment choices</b></span></span><br />
<br />
This is a little outside the focus on furnishing a place, but:<br />
<br />
<b>Upstairs or downstairs</b>. Boy, am I glad I listened to the
apartment manager when he steered me to a ground-floor apartment instead
of the second-floor place I said I preferred. Ch-<i>ching</i>. He told
me it would cost less to cool my place in the summer if I were on the
ground floor. And this has proven to be the case, as my upstairs
neighbors and I have compared our energy bills.<br />
<br />
This will be doubly true in Louisiana, where it's got the double whammy of heat <i>and </i>humidity.
(On the other hand, I've got a hankering for a place in the midst of
the city, so in that case, I'd prefer something above street level. But
I'm getting ahead of myself.)<br />
<br />
<b>Amount of space</b>. At 832 square feet, I have more space than I
need. I've had visitors, but most of my time here, I haven't. A
dedicated space for guests, i.e. a 2nd bedroom (or the den I have here),
isn't essential. <br />
<br />
<p> </p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-20815327887767751682023-09-01T04:30:00.003-05:002023-09-01T04:30:00.143-05:002023 Word of the Year: FEAR: Freedom and Imprisonment<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2IB2ce_ehCBRqHHwwxkW3jRX4294qUnzh8jRDAzwPIcPApqpjxS0gcF-Z4RRVSmEeaxuV_PDSv_f5VSbJZwyT4YIQv4OxjQbcvvBntCM8BOE0fefB_t7bvSajDl3ChdiuKpLyvy15daMhhKMvv0mXz54C08kPSqWBQntTxlG42kAxdncLoBVdv7g6GTKj/s4608/2023.0805%20shopping%20mall%20Alamogordo%20New%20Mexico%20lunar%20exhibit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Do not walk on lunar surface. Exhibit at shopping mall. Alamogordo, New Mexico. August 2023. Photo credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2IB2ce_ehCBRqHHwwxkW3jRX4294qUnzh8jRDAzwPIcPApqpjxS0gcF-Z4RRVSmEeaxuV_PDSv_f5VSbJZwyT4YIQv4OxjQbcvvBntCM8BOE0fefB_t7bvSajDl3ChdiuKpLyvy15daMhhKMvv0mXz54C08kPSqWBQntTxlG42kAxdncLoBVdv7g6GTKj/w640-h480/2023.0805%20shopping%20mall%20Alamogordo%20New%20Mexico%20lunar%20exhibit.jpg" title="Do not walk on lunar surface. Exhibit at shopping mall. Alamogordo, New Mexico. August 2023. Photo credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do not walk on lunar surface. Exhibit at shopping mall. Alamogordo, New Mexico. August 2023. Photo credit: Mzuriana**</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p>Fear has freed me.<br /></p><p>Fear has shackled me.<br /></p><p>A favorite saying: <i>We don't change until our backs are against the wall AND the wall is on fire. </i></p><p>One night, when my daughter was very young, I experienced a fear that I might die from an eating binge that night, leaving my child without a mother. The fear pushed me into an arduous path to remission from an eating disorder, which took years to attain. </p><p>A smoker for much of my life, as I entered middle age, I knew that if I contracted an illness associated with smoking that I would <i>despise </i>myself. Plus, I was afraid I <i>would </i>contract such an illness. This fear of self-hate and the fear of illness pushed me to quit smoking. For me, I was fortunate to do well under Chantix. Otherwise, I don't think I would have been able to quit. The nicotine patches didn't do it. Welbutrin, prescribed off-label, didn't do it (not to mention I had a serious allergic reaction to same). The desire to quit, by itself, didn't do it.<br /></p><p>I knew (know) that if I later ended up with an illness associated with smoking, notwithstanding my having quit, that at least I wouldn't hate myself. </p><p>Fear is similar to pain in that it can alert us to the need to pay attention, to evaluate, to take action (or to not take action, as may appropriate). </p><p>Some fears suggest that I conduct scenario planning for possible futures. </p><p>You know, like the <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2011/06/packing-for-zombie-apocalypse.html" target="_blank">zombie apocalypse</a>. <br /></p><br /><p>**<i>Don't know why this photo felt appropriate to this post. I'll go with this: Robert Heinlein's best book: </i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/The-Moon-Is-Harsh-Mistress/dp/0312863551" target="_blank">The Moon is a Harsh Mistress</a><i>. And Heinlein's admonition to the students in </i><a href="https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/tunnel-in-the-sky_robert-a-heinlein/272360/#edition=2360121&idiq=674956" target="_blank">Tunnel in the Sky</a><i>: Beware the stobor. .... Because there will always be stobor, although we won't know what they might look like or at what point they will pop up. Be alert.<br /></i></p><p> <br /></p><p><b><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">The 2023 word of the year thus far</span></b> <br /></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>January: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/01/2023-word-of-year-fear-looking-into.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Looking Into the Abyss Without Falling In</a></li><li>February: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/02/2023-word-of-year-fear-fuck-everything.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Fuck Everything And Run</a></li><li>March: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/03/2023-word-of-year-fear-forgetting.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Forgetting Everything's All Right</a></li><li>April: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/04/2023-word-of-year-fear-take-more-risks.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Take More Risks</a></li><li>May: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/05/2023-word-of-year-fear-feelings.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Feelings Expressed Allow Relief</a></li><li>June: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/06/2023-word-of-year-fear-face-everything.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Face Everything And ... Rise</a></li><li>July: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/07/2023-word-of-year-fear-frustration-ego.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Frustration, Ego, Anxiety, Resentment</a></li><li>August: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/08/2023-word-of-year-fear-face-everything.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Face Everything And ... Recover </a> <br /></li></ol><div style="text-align: center;"> #30</div><p> </p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-26914037349481072582023-08-08T06:30:00.039-05:002023-08-10T09:42:27.302-05:002023 Summer Road Trip: Oliver Lee Memorial State Park: A Morning Visitor<p> </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-do6kMR4IFrYzWrwKqX4Jz2pqd14XUXCw1FaT6YEgpmmXZr5VoV6zn2MFhj-yEstvNjIuNeknr-aBcdfUsOKqxBtqlFo9kp1UKbWJLKsaYP8Xc6GBPwBX-6pvzVApw0OVcAkO_l55-D6bjARRw7xmYtcvI0a9_aiR54bF_izYAUOyS_VIx1SCFUCSrDgx/s4608/2023.0805%20Lizard%20visitor%20at%20Oliver%20Lee%20Memorial%20State%20Park%20campsite.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="2023.0805 Lizard visitor at my Oliver Lee Memorial State Park campsite. Alamogordo, New Mexico. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-do6kMR4IFrYzWrwKqX4Jz2pqd14XUXCw1FaT6YEgpmmXZr5VoV6zn2MFhj-yEstvNjIuNeknr-aBcdfUsOKqxBtqlFo9kp1UKbWJLKsaYP8Xc6GBPwBX-6pvzVApw0OVcAkO_l55-D6bjARRw7xmYtcvI0a9_aiR54bF_izYAUOyS_VIx1SCFUCSrDgx/w480-h640/2023.0805%20Lizard%20visitor%20at%20Oliver%20Lee%20Memorial%20State%20Park%20campsite.jpg" title="2023.0805 Lizard visitor at my Oliver Lee Memorial State Park campsite. Alamogordo, New Mexico. Credit: Mzuriana." width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2023.0805 Lizard visitor at my Oliver Lee Memorial State Park campsite. Alamogordo, New Mexico. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p><p>I surely do love lizards. </p><p>They are always welcome at my campsite.</p><p>The book, by the way, sucked. My God, 'twas a murderous bore. I cannot fathom why I read it to the end. I warned the campground host, to whom I offered it, that he cannot give it back to me no matter what. I warned him: It's no good. I made an ethical disclosure, in other words, respecting his right to self-determination in making a decision he might regret.</p><p>Other lizards I have loved: </p><p> </p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" data-footer="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/hailebet/albums/72157708974611228" title="Lizards"><img alt="Lizards" height="375" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/48019235423_0dc91c4433.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;">#30</p><p> <br /></p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-81693393150492732802023-08-04T06:30:00.089-05:002023-08-04T06:30:00.142-05:002023 Summer Road Trip: Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, New Mexico: A Reintroduction<p> </p><p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcJvitCfELdOctv_DhicI5OLmNuAumEJtTZjVSGF_EAWIULQSNhzcTaJAcBHwK_25En8eDy2KV5qwwvvWCa-EX9EbdrIZolYFArwTPvkBHsUVaM7Y5UeSRcBSZQPDb2NIxcfXmsyk-HmMHCz17lYQGcTcXHVqEtaypIVz4WedhjRniPNCH1IBg-zgl2Mtz/s2816/Oliver%20Lee%20Park%20-%20My%20campsite%202.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="2012 not 2023 - My Oliver Lee Memorial State Park campsite. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcJvitCfELdOctv_DhicI5OLmNuAumEJtTZjVSGF_EAWIULQSNhzcTaJAcBHwK_25En8eDy2KV5qwwvvWCa-EX9EbdrIZolYFArwTPvkBHsUVaM7Y5UeSRcBSZQPDb2NIxcfXmsyk-HmMHCz17lYQGcTcXHVqEtaypIVz4WedhjRniPNCH1IBg-zgl2Mtz/w640-h480/Oliver%20Lee%20Park%20-%20My%20campsite%202.JPG" title="2012 not 2023 - My Oliver Lee Memorial State Park campsite. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2012 not 2023 - My Oliver Lee Memorial State Park campsite. Near Alamogordo, New Mexico. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>I landed at <a href="https://www.emnrd.nm.gov/spd/find-a-park/oliver-lee-memorial-state-park/" target="_blank">Oliver Lee Memorial State Park</a> the last day of July. Feeling sentimental about being here.<br /></p><p><a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2012/10/oliver-lee-memorial-state-park-my.html" target="_blank">Twelve years ago</a>, I lived at the campground for two weeks while waiting for the appointed date to move in to my Alamogordo apartment. </p><p>Indeed, upon my arrival the other day, I put up the very same tent and laid out the very same tablecloth that I did in 2012. I still have the folding table and the green-lidded bin. And the coffee mug. The Playmate cooler with its handle is released somewhere in the universe. <br /></p><p></p><p>This go-round, I got all red and sweaty putting up my tent in the dog-day, 95-degree heat. Had to pace myself. <br /></p><p>Before I get into some other sweaty details, I will share the glorious joy of the ever-changing drama that the park performs on its massive 360-degree living stage. </p><p>The slide show below showcases how the light moves across the lines of the terrain, and the sunsets, the sunrises, the moonrise, the vastness of the Tularosa Basin, the folds of the mountains. <br /></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"> <a data-flickr-embed="true" data-footer="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/hailebet/albums/72177720310208730" title="Oliver Lee Memorial State Park"><img alt="Oliver Lee Memorial State Park" height="375" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53090101878_9752ee260b.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script> </p>
It feels good to be here.
Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-63779604128626450902023-08-02T06:00:00.062-05:002023-08-02T06:00:00.144-05:0010 Years Ago: Hope and Zombies<p> Original post <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2013/08/hope-and-zombies.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5-M_qQ9DBMpwXM8pFbkOzNP2ETHIvYg5r_pC-cAgbE1z5ESC5iCtl43Ok7n7Bpz7JP8ihHDNBREpn-DPl1uIbnE4aEthvQjDPTtkQDATY5FyiF8cj-Ca5GtBZ2LGEfCj1RvJCaSVkqsvjXmgGgKYzMpeX_tC6j-i50YQrSVKwVrRlrSHGZVqwqm3VkQ/s1319/Acoma%20-%20zombies.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Gallup newspaper headlines. May 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="1319" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5-M_qQ9DBMpwXM8pFbkOzNP2ETHIvYg5r_pC-cAgbE1z5ESC5iCtl43Ok7n7Bpz7JP8ihHDNBREpn-DPl1uIbnE4aEthvQjDPTtkQDATY5FyiF8cj-Ca5GtBZ2LGEfCj1RvJCaSVkqsvjXmgGgKYzMpeX_tC6j-i50YQrSVKwVrRlrSHGZVqwqm3VkQ/w582-h640/Acoma%20-%20zombies.JPG" title="Gallup newspaper headlines. May 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="582" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gallup newspaper headlines. May 2013. Credit: <a href="https://flic.kr/p/Fqxi5S" target="_blank">Mzuriana</a>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>I've written before about the value I received in <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2021/08/missouri-covid-19-unfolding-part-8888.html" target="_blank">watching The Walking Dead</a>. Indeed, when I drafted this post, I had started over at the beginning to watch it all again, after I'd seen the series finale. (I'll have skipped over a lot of the 7th season, though, because of its traumatizing sequences with Negan.)</p><p>Ten years ago, back in 2013, the contemporary iteration of zombies, the "walking dead," were unknown to me, although both the original comic book series and the show <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Walking_Dead_(comic_book)" target="_blank">had emerged earlier</a>. </p><p>But I had learned about preparations for the so-called <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2011/06/packing-for-zombie-apocalypse.html" target="_blank">Zombie Apocalypse</a>, back when I held the CDC in high esteem. </p><p></p><h4 class="date-header" style="text-align: left;"><span>Sunday, August 4, 2013</span></h4>
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Hope and Zombies
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3cLItFAF8zh-q9TIXASGFioLTY3zk0OuoBqfO0lYc1q_u3m-RITMQQOYmoTSDdORcdPw5IxsH-4EfQE3XVcNMN1xTsW0t-uKrmEPFdqEGndpjhLahZa-BOjPtr7DedGokvBRd__bcylrU/s1600/Hope+NM+-+Highway+82c.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3cLItFAF8zh-q9TIXASGFioLTY3zk0OuoBqfO0lYc1q_u3m-RITMQQOYmoTSDdORcdPw5IxsH-4EfQE3XVcNMN1xTsW0t-uKrmEPFdqEGndpjhLahZa-BOjPtr7DedGokvBRd__bcylrU/s640/Hope+NM+-+Highway+82c.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Highway 82, Hope, New Mexico</td></tr>
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Hope, New Mexico, is the future-history site of the <a href="http://zombie.wikia.com/wiki/Battle_of_Hope">Battle of Hope</a>, in which humans <a href="http://livingrootless.blogspot.com/2011/06/packing-for-zombie-apocalypse.html">prevail over zombies</a>, according to World War Z.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEdEOKi4A7GYj6g94WTF9bOdCZu7WKrrx86QCfRWfR-oG7f91WzKrjxIjOG0Oh06gcU0Ka7-NX7H2IQVknDlptNHjYUQdNwZaCYdK6VKur-nR1ZMALYJhTIyqPmrjgAiRhSyf1YNso6Rmc/s1600/Hope+NM+-+Highway+82a.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEdEOKi4A7GYj6g94WTF9bOdCZu7WKrrx86QCfRWfR-oG7f91WzKrjxIjOG0Oh06gcU0Ka7-NX7H2IQVknDlptNHjYUQdNwZaCYdK6VKur-nR1ZMALYJhTIyqPmrjgAiRhSyf1YNso6Rmc/s640/Hope+NM+-+Highway+82a.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Highway 82, Hope, New Mexico</td></tr>
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Located on Highway 82, Hope, New Mexico, is about 20 miles west of Artesia.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04N3PJkc0gdp56tSM0Qv_L7WhyphenhyphenUrCx69_nX9dhg-CX6gO3xE0wSuuGvgy4HKgoswJAKnU9WxJelMyh6lRTeQ6oeC1ZfrT7DqKdGEu-Xkyhug6cMTs30Jb0pUmbJhFOMnoX5K43L_gjknv/s1600/Hope+NM+-+Hwy+82+-pinkish+house.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04N3PJkc0gdp56tSM0Qv_L7WhyphenhyphenUrCx69_nX9dhg-CX6gO3xE0wSuuGvgy4HKgoswJAKnU9WxJelMyh6lRTeQ6oeC1ZfrT7DqKdGEu-Xkyhug6cMTs30Jb0pUmbJhFOMnoX5K43L_gjknv/s400/Hope+NM+-+Hwy+82+-pinkish+house.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Highway 82, Hope, New Mexico</td></tr>
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I saw neither humans nor zombies. There is a post office. <br />
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What caught my attention was what seemed to be the imprint of a fire on the side of what seemed to be the firehouse. What?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7GEhKGksDi7SKn1WORPlvpy3QWmn0A4K1rXIR22OdSEH4yB9tvypnUqM8IFvhEjwiNUKoDo2KjcuFyRcIAAgKJgcBrECWXBMeRA3f5D193pauImeJoVxDghfQPuYhc6a84n4-IRzDZ1K/s1600/Hope+NM+-+Highway+82e.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7GEhKGksDi7SKn1WORPlvpy3QWmn0A4K1rXIR22OdSEH4yB9tvypnUqM8IFvhEjwiNUKoDo2KjcuFyRcIAAgKJgcBrECWXBMeRA3f5D193pauImeJoVxDghfQPuYhc6a84n4-IRzDZ1K/s640/Hope+NM+-+Highway+82e.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Highway 82, Hope, New Mexico</td></tr>
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It's almost supernatural. <br />
<br /><p><br /></p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-33465604754666320702023-08-01T07:30:00.069-05:002023-08-02T13:35:13.039-05:002023 Word of the Year: FEAR: Face Everything And Recover<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKPtbRVsXrEa3SfAzrvKgL9rRaQL_AO-Jgtro1tzQ-zsY1Fx6b81sRHApRBzze5fr55TeDO9raf3AEvd8wB6RbBVuYbT9hB6GMvDY2KBKipDA72GxHfyBxqn9mYz22dT72ks7bjxsiw1QsR7ftyS0qSm8GlKylDOuwzeevzD1KMgR-tWMfaQfK738Kar8o/s2816/Greensburg,%20KS%20-%20Kiowa%20County%20Memorial%20Hospital%20-%20post-tornado.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Temporary hospital tents in Greenburg, Kansas, following tornado. October 2007. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKPtbRVsXrEa3SfAzrvKgL9rRaQL_AO-Jgtro1tzQ-zsY1Fx6b81sRHApRBzze5fr55TeDO9raf3AEvd8wB6RbBVuYbT9hB6GMvDY2KBKipDA72GxHfyBxqn9mYz22dT72ks7bjxsiw1QsR7ftyS0qSm8GlKylDOuwzeevzD1KMgR-tWMfaQfK738Kar8o/w640-h480/Greensburg,%20KS%20-%20Kiowa%20County%20Memorial%20Hospital%20-%20post-tornado.JPG" title="Temporary hospital tents in Greenburg, Kansas, following tornado. October 2007. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Temporary hospital tents in Greenburg, Kansas, following tornado. October 2007. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p> In June, I applied the acronym, Face Everything And Rise. </p><p>August shares similarities: Face Everything And Recover.</p><p>But where rising is a letting go - a release - recovery requires remediation. </p><p>It requires a series of actions. Perhaps some pain. Certainly discomfort. Most definitely fear. <br /></p><p></p><p>In recovery - with its requisite remediation - I can only control my process, with no control over the outcomes. There's the faith that recovery will result, in some manner, although perhaps not in the way I might have imagined. </p><p>Recovery likely means I have to listen to uncomfortable truths - or if not truths, someone else's beliefs in what is true about me and about us, about our past, our present, and our future. I will want to make informed decisions about how - and <b><i>if </i></b>- to rebuild relationships ripped by storms. <br /></p><p>Recovery almost certainly requires that I act differently and that I think differently in future. And that, in turn, will result in others making an informed decision about how <i>they </i>wish to proceed. <br /></p><p>As much as many of us would like to think we can do so, it's not likely that I'll be able to "figure things out" on my own. As a 12-stepper said once: "<i>We can't pull ourselves out of quicksand by our hair</i>." </p><p>So I will need an experienced trail blazer to help me find the path. I will remember the <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2014/07/louisiana-watch-out-for-stobor.html" target="_blank">stobor</a>. <br /></p><p> </p><p><b><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">The 2023 word of the year thus far</span></b> <br /></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>January: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/01/2023-word-of-year-fear-looking-into.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Looking Into the Abyss Without Falling In</a></li><li>February: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/02/2023-word-of-year-fear-fuck-everything.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Fuck Everything And Run</a></li><li>March: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/03/2023-word-of-year-fear-forgetting.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Forgetting Everything's All Right</a></li><li>April: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/04/2023-word-of-year-fear-take-more-risks.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Take More Risks</a></li><li>May: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/05/2023-word-of-year-fear-feelings.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Feelings Expressed Allow Relief</a></li><li>June: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/06/2023-word-of-year-fear-face-everything.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Face Everything And ... Rise</a></li><li>July: <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2023/07/2023-word-of-year-fear-frustration-ego.html" target="_blank">FEAR: Frustration, Ego, Anxiety, Resentment</a> <br /></li></ol> #30<p> </p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-90470563315766337062023-07-18T06:30:00.001-05:002023-07-18T06:30:00.146-05:00Bluewater Lake State Park, New Mexico: Vienna Sausages<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_FyrXSkyQuIT5YZyBcP3__IH7UgH7-huyU0dN2kwevCmXmLJ2nbPg82Uc9ZqVtdxk5Sn8O5MdL0YDXT5wq1KwCULF7a3AT7ARugrTswPoAvBDnoUeFEgCxF5F_hZI1-ccd-y_OEoTqpA7mjxjTHqhsRZvdzxmKduJqsxu-Bk3N08nS7foOA8T4HsGWg_2/s4608/Vienna%20sausage%20Great%20Value.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Walmart Vienna sausages. July 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.:" border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_FyrXSkyQuIT5YZyBcP3__IH7UgH7-huyU0dN2kwevCmXmLJ2nbPg82Uc9ZqVtdxk5Sn8O5MdL0YDXT5wq1KwCULF7a3AT7ARugrTswPoAvBDnoUeFEgCxF5F_hZI1-ccd-y_OEoTqpA7mjxjTHqhsRZvdzxmKduJqsxu-Bk3N08nS7foOA8T4HsGWg_2/w640-h480/Vienna%20sausage%20Great%20Value.jpg" title="Walmart Vienna sausages. July 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.:" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walmart Vienna sausages. July 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.:</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p></p><p>Yes, processed foods are of Satan. </p><p>Nevertheless, all because of a visit to the village store just outside the <a href="https://www.emnrd.nm.gov/spd/find-a-park/bluewater-lake-state-park/" target="_blank">Bluewater Lake State Park</a> entrance, where I camped last week, I embarked on a taste comparison of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vienna_sausage" target="_blank">Vienna sausages</a>: </p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Great Value</li><li>Libby's</li><li>Armour</li></ul><p>The store played a role because its shelves included Vienna sausages and other canned meats, including canned roast beef, which I will talk about another day. </p><p>Because the temps, day by day, had been in the 90s, taxing both my ice chest and my limited creativity in finding protein that interested me and didn't require refrigeration, I paused before these baby-food hot dogs. </p><p>I call it baby food because I associate Vienna sausages with highchair fare, vicariously picked up by the chubby fingers of a floor-crawling lil tyke, pushed by a not-so-steady fist into her drooly mouth, which she often shapes into a heart-melting, mostly-toothless grin.<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfP31qT5GmH-RdF_SLP6yuUqFnPFomJ_IY3QPeB4Vi80DWuS7EGH61PeVAAb1yqrZxl4-d0KD2OcsuTUXWuHTTJKV8Z5m2J0ok9vBHgCJWTtHQvSeyJWOYk1iQIyIrhSAGWrgPg94_WARBAUYBvgLFx4FqgYkm9JTpUzPpCleqJCgaeaZoHNgXUDMoOX8i/s1600/Vienna%20sausage%20Libby's.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Libby's Vienna sausages. July 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.:" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfP31qT5GmH-RdF_SLP6yuUqFnPFomJ_IY3QPeB4Vi80DWuS7EGH61PeVAAb1yqrZxl4-d0KD2OcsuTUXWuHTTJKV8Z5m2J0ok9vBHgCJWTtHQvSeyJWOYk1iQIyIrhSAGWrgPg94_WARBAUYBvgLFx4FqgYkm9JTpUzPpCleqJCgaeaZoHNgXUDMoOX8i/w640-h480/Vienna%20sausage%20Libby's.jpg" title="Libby's Vienna sausages. July 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.:" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Libby's Vienna sausages. July 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.:</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <br /></p><p>My reviews: </p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Great Value (Walmart): Silky, reminiscent of my family's culinary heritage of braunschweiger-and-Miracle Whip-on-Roman Meal-bread lunches, a veritable paté. I liked it. </li><li>Libby's: Inferior to Great Value - one of those taste experiences so bland, it would be better to have something that tasted bad. </li><li>Armour: I ate it, but the memory of the act slid right off my brain pan, it was so forgettable. </li></ul><p><br /></p><p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvYDEkYltK4dChi4P7iIh7Va6_VJFl-PgUDjs9ofDkiAdYlaKQJicN5t_wX51qw19Binu3YceGXPyifJZunjsqq7-FyEjVdxqBpdwY4eRHQfWPu6Jr26P_--IFJSrFKSBAB0348bCB057u7rJoV2pA4UAgtQNqlh6a4JYgoMOQH2w4CGqEXvdbvlLMk9k/s1600/Vienna%20sausage%20Armour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Armour Vienna sausages. July 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.:" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvYDEkYltK4dChi4P7iIh7Va6_VJFl-PgUDjs9ofDkiAdYlaKQJicN5t_wX51qw19Binu3YceGXPyifJZunjsqq7-FyEjVdxqBpdwY4eRHQfWPu6Jr26P_--IFJSrFKSBAB0348bCB057u7rJoV2pA4UAgtQNqlh6a4JYgoMOQH2w4CGqEXvdbvlLMk9k/w640-h480/Vienna%20sausage%20Armour.jpg" title="Armour Vienna sausages. July 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.:" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Armour Vienna sausages. July 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.:</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p> <br /></p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-71619527953257835612023-07-11T10:00:00.001-05:002023-07-17T16:23:06.956-05:00Bluewater Lake State Park, New Mexico: Legged Creatures<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Cortizone-10 Maximum Strength Anti-Itch Liquid With Aloe, 1.25 oz. Image source: Walmart" height="400" src="https://i5.walmartimages.com/asr/7a28c9e4-3aa4-4e97-a6e7-7fde23e0c86b.4ba34302b27926e6edf65ac720ddcb94.jpeg?odnHeight=612&odnWidth=612&odnBg=FFFFFF" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Cortizone-10 Maximum Strength Anti-Itch Liquid With Aloe, 1.25 oz. Image source: Walmart" width="400" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cortizone-10 Maximum Strength Anti-Itch Liquid With Aloe, 1.25 oz. Image source: Walmart</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><p style="text-align: left;">Tuesday morning. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I arrived at <a href="https://www.emnrd.nm.gov/spd/find-a-park/bluewater-lake-state-park/" target="_blank">Bluewater Lake State Park</a> yesterday, which is near Grants, New Mexico. I spent Sunday night at the Motel 6 in Grants after my week of camping near Chama. <br /></p></div><p><i>Cortisone-10 Maximum Strength Easy Relief Applicator. </i></p><p>That's what I bought yesterday to counter-attack the itching from those tiny scourges of Satan that assaulted me at <a href="https://www.emnrd.nm.gov/spd/find-a-park/el-vado-lake-state-park/" target="_blank">El Vado Lake State Park</a>. I have hopes it will work. </p><p>Last night, in my tent, I stayed up late to finish Ken Follett's book, <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/5062" target="_blank"><i>JackDaw</i>s</a>. Around 11 or so is when I heard the coyotes. Then some camp dogs barking. OK. I didn't know about the coyotes. Put me in mind of the coyotes near Corpus Christi, where the coyotes ran through the campground every evening and every morning. What if I heard some snuffling around my tent? Where were my car keys? </p><p> </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2CZLGSgfWFrJanZv2h-5k5jVZ3AA0tMQliEKKRgWu_XjehGu5A4A7cb0oTEIBylXgKZ3RQSdNmaBzIPlAIbDtQPg2jqlV0SrTz0BEq1KlfaVFouLBZUFTi8Y0WUgFPL87CmkjNWrYil5olSlec7FOjN_aXG-_P8yaCnavgJwxeRUDqE9_e1BfAzWgP_d3/s2356/Bernalillo%20mural%20-%20coyotes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Coyotes. Bernalillo, New Mexico mural. August 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" data-original-height="1461" data-original-width="2356" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2CZLGSgfWFrJanZv2h-5k5jVZ3AA0tMQliEKKRgWu_XjehGu5A4A7cb0oTEIBylXgKZ3RQSdNmaBzIPlAIbDtQPg2jqlV0SrTz0BEq1KlfaVFouLBZUFTi8Y0WUgFPL87CmkjNWrYil5olSlec7FOjN_aXG-_P8yaCnavgJwxeRUDqE9_e1BfAzWgP_d3/w640-h396/Bernalillo%20mural%20-%20coyotes.JPG" title="Coyotes. Bernalillo, New Mexico mural. August 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coyotes. Bernalillo, New Mexico mural. August 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </p><p>This morning, as I write this, and as I relish the cool air, I look at the cloud cover - what? Am I going to have to put the rainfly on my tent? I don't want to because it restricts the airflow in my tent. The weather forecast for the next 10 days is sunny or, at worst, partly cloudy. Hmmm. <br /></p><p>A rooster crows. <br /></p>Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4409814846400976038.post-90696070714557821372023-07-02T06:00:00.001-05:002023-07-02T06:00:00.138-05:0010 Years Ago: The Slowest Parade in America<p> </p><p> </p><p>Original post <a href="https://blog.livingrootless.com/2013/07/the-slowest-parade-in-america.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </p><p> </p><h4 class="date-header" style="text-align: left;"><span>Friday, July 26, 2013</span></h4>
<a name="4792214052596038219"></a>
<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">
The Slowest Parade in America
</span></h3>
<div class="post-header">
<div class="post-header-line-1"></div>
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<div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAW2lf1jqHdLEt7PuYOIT51A3su1cxi3D7Vs7GIgT_dsSZDKVLOyAspG5Hc7WkGKOGde_X-0U4BOmpuZqaLrxEtnF_QPZTB8JoHSSyKCY-BrAF2AasLJ8NaRBm3JJaG9WnDBTEhcZ6dtGD/s1600/Mescalero+parade+6.JPG"><img alt="Mescalero Celebration Parade. Mescalero, New Mexico. July 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAW2lf1jqHdLEt7PuYOIT51A3su1cxi3D7Vs7GIgT_dsSZDKVLOyAspG5Hc7WkGKOGde_X-0U4BOmpuZqaLrxEtnF_QPZTB8JoHSSyKCY-BrAF2AasLJ8NaRBm3JJaG9WnDBTEhcZ6dtGD/w626-h640/Mescalero+parade+6.JPG" title="Mescalero Celebration Parade. Mescalero, New Mexico. July 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="626" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">
Mescalero Celebration Parade. Mescalero, New Mexico. July 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.<br /></div></div><div>
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<br />
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span><b>You know you're in a slow parade when:</b></span></span><br />
<ul><li>It stops in front of you and the first unit's occupants get out so they can take pictures of the units following </li><li>You can walk up to the front of a unit and take photos, then to the
side, then the other side, and then the front again, all at a leisurely
pace</li><li>The classic-car section of the parade appears to have had enough
(maybe ran low on gas?) and it leaves the parade early via a highway
exit</li><li>There's so much of a gap between one unit and another that people think the parade is over and leave</li></ul>
<br />
The <a href="https://mescaleroapachetribe.com/mescalero-apache-cultural-center-museum/">Mescalero Apache</a> Celebration Parade in Mescalero, New Mexico, is that parade. The parade celebrates the <a href="http://explorenm.blogspot.com/2010/06/mescalero-maidens-puberty-ceremony.html">Mescalero maiden puberty rites</a>, and also coincides with Independence Day festivities.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span><b>Advance planning</b></span></span><br />
<br />
This is what I saw when I thought I found the perfect spot for parade
watching. It was kind of a hot day, and the breeze blowing through the
shaded underpass looked like the perfect spot. My hunch was reinforced
by the sight of all of those who had come before me to stake their
territory.<br />
<br />
My homestead is marked by the green chair in the foreground. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QB3HmkzE1gpyDiRoJXK9lL3tLDEmNixhOaca2BO2ufCSjMD3lIaHJ0XZQY8y2Ntl-xmQp1v2iIvrT7AB32nJVEL0EqQH0CMMTx5-EGISJ1cH1cW4qDTt4a52OsdS06Eym8uoLMJiS4Pf/s1600/Mescalero+parade+1.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Mescalero Celebration Parade. Mescalero, New Mexico. July 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QB3HmkzE1gpyDiRoJXK9lL3tLDEmNixhOaca2BO2ufCSjMD3lIaHJ0XZQY8y2Ntl-xmQp1v2iIvrT7AB32nJVEL0EqQH0CMMTx5-EGISJ1cH1cW4qDTt4a52OsdS06Eym8uoLMJiS4Pf/w640-h480/Mescalero+parade+1.JPG" title="Mescalero Celebration Parade. Mescalero, New Mexico. July 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mescalero Celebration Parade. Mescalero, New Mexico. July 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
By the time the parade started, it looked like this: <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-S23UlK4-gLmfVqN4zkXnHu0ThVEDr4Ww1t9netZ4o9EbELMoRfn5SmKfjpBswcFKfpfl2ZdYbpEerLtMrr_R0ane5xEi8Dk4sU-xFuiHg5-9BS3K2bwXYI07plwM874QPZtzaF02sR2n/s1600/Mescalero+parade+2.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Mescalero Celebration Parade. Mescalero, New Mexico. July 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-S23UlK4-gLmfVqN4zkXnHu0ThVEDr4Ww1t9netZ4o9EbELMoRfn5SmKfjpBswcFKfpfl2ZdYbpEerLtMrr_R0ane5xEi8Dk4sU-xFuiHg5-9BS3K2bwXYI07plwM874QPZtzaF02sR2n/w640-h480/Mescalero+parade+2.JPG" title="Mescalero Celebration Parade. Mescalero, New Mexico. July 2013. Credit: Mzuriana." width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mescalero Celebration Parade. Mescalero, New Mexico. July 2013. Credit: Mzuriana.</td></tr></tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span><b>Biology</b></span></span><br />
<br />
Arriving early at a parade route makes it easy to find the best
parade-watching spot and also the best parking spots. Arriving early at a
parade that is scheduled to run about two hours means you'll likely
have something to drink and maybe to eat, also. The yang to these yin is
that it will be necessary to relieve yourself.<br />
<br />
I was lucky. The first time I had to go - before the parade started - I
walked up to the Senior Center, entered, walked down the hall, and used
the restroom. When I emerged, I discovered that the building was about
to be closed up, and I was politely shooed out.<br />
<br />
Later, during a lull in the parade, I walked up to the police station,
entered the vestibule, then through another door, down the hall and to
the restroom. When I emerged, a police woman who had been outside was
now in the vestibule and she told me I wasn't really supposed to be
there, that the door between the vestibule and corridor was usually
locked.<br />
<br />
Whoops. <br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span><b>The medicine woman</b></span></span><br />
<br />
One of my parade neighbors was a medicine woman, based in El Paso. She
and her relatives have attended the Mescalero rites for eight years.<br />
<br />
A congenial woman, she told me about two large women's gatherings, one
already having occurred in El Paso this year, related to the sun; the
next would be in Mexico, related to the moon. Both sounded exciting. <br />
<br />
But <i><b>do not</b></i> get between this woman and pencils thrown out to the parade attendees. Someone could get hurt. <br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #a2c4c9;"><span><b>The wax and gold</b></span></span><br />
<br />
In Ethiopia, there is often more than one level of interpretation for what someone says or writes. The wax (<i>sem</i>) is the superficial message. The gold (<i>werk</i>) is the true meaning of what was said or written. In its poetic form, this is called <a href="http://kweschn.wordpress.com/2011/09/01/qene-or-sem-enna-werq-wax-and-gold/"><i>qene</i></a>.<br />
<br />
My first processing of the Mescalero parade was that it was just a parade, albeit with Apache notes.<br />
<br />
But one of the floats had a sign referring to Edna Teenah Comanche, "the
little girl who rides the train." Tracking down this reference a few
days later took me down a path that gave me a greater appreciation of
symbols that rolled by me in the parade, but which didn't make much of
an impact at the time.<br />
<br />
So <a href="https://livingrootless.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-little-girl-who-rides-train.html">there's more to come about this parade</a>. <br />
<br />
In the meantime, a slide show:<br />
<br />
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" data-footer="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/hailebet/albums/72177720304505484" title="Mescalero Ceremonial Parade July 2013"><img alt="Mescalero Ceremonial Parade July 2013" height="375" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/52567354304_726c98b38e.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;">
</div><div style="text-align: center;">#30
</div><p> </p><br />Mzurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13257270220138351795noreply@blogger.com0