Of Old New Mexican Haunts and Spills and Gifts
Monday, March 27, 2006
[7:01am] It was the day they would return from New Mexico. And suddenly, spring had come into the air and there was the itch to run out of doors for an afternoon of tennis, a good hard three hours of running about and hitting things. And then at evening, to watch an old film of the silver screen over popcorn back at the house with the windows open to the cool blue winds of the late evening.
That morning she found herself re-reading her account of Hungary, and she realized that she had left out the part about the three young Viennese guys who operated their little jet on the way to Budapest. One of them flew the jet, another guided it onto the runway from below, and the third was the steward(ess). But what was so striking about all three was their hair. All three had the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen and then their hair was literally as white as snow. She had never seen anything like it and half-wondered if all Austrians had such hair. All were in suit pants and white collared shirts with the sleeves rolled up, even the guy directing on the runway who had pulled his long white hair back in a ponytail. She could still almost recall what they looked like five years later.
Meanwhile, back on the ranch, the youth had generally seemed to decide upon the name of ‘Ramothgilead’ for the youth building – as the city of refuge of old.
Late in the morning, Collette found herself staring off into space, praying for all the old neighbors, even the neighbors next to the Octagon’s, although she could not remember their names. Once, years before, when St. Louis saw good snows, she, Felicity, and Carrie built a great snowman in Melissa’s yard with the granddaughter of their neighbors. Afterwards they marched over to her grandma’s (who was very young it seemed) and she made them grilled cheese while they played with a little moldable magnetic sculpture on the kitchen counter.
And then there was that great old oak between the Octagon’s and the Rubies’; every time Collette saw it she could see the field stretching out behind it on the other side of the road and she remembered the great rainbow she had once seen running straight from heaven into the meadow, parallel with the great oak. It was the sort of rainbow one would likely see only once in a lifetime. She had never seen one so enormous.
At precisely 2:00 that afternoon, the caravan arrived, bearing spices and gifts and all good things. While a little travel worn, the worst of the journey had been the spill Grandma had taken coming out of a fuel station with some chocolate milk for Frances and Linnea.
“I am such a klutz, Collette,” she said, “the sun was in my eyes. And, bloop! Down I went.”
She had a nice blue and purple bruise on her chin to show for the incident but Grandma would insist that she had been in a row with a biker gang and thus the shiner. That was Grandma, always out for an adventure.
But meanwhile, the trip had been wonderful – to Placitas, New Mexico – little Mexican churches with holy dirt and winding staircases, Indian dwellings, shopping and ice cream in the village, climbing the hills and playing with Tina the dog, the tram high in the mountains above the village in the valley, where:
“There was a plane crash up there back in 1955,” Mom said, “and Carrie could see some of the debris still up there in the mountains from where we were.”
And there was a picture of Frances and Linnea in the apricot tree in the back of Great Uncle Harry and Great Aunt Patsy’s yard; Collette recognized it immediately. She and Carrie had climbed the same tree eleven years before when they were the same ages. And apparently Uncle Harry and Aunt Patsy took the apricots and plums from their trees to a wine-maker in Placitas after the growing season.
There had been a bit of a reunion for Uncle Harry’s and Aunt Patsy’s 50th wedding anniversary with Mom’s cousins and all of their second cousins and Uncle Harry and Aunt Patsy, (of course), who were preparing to leave Thursday for the Panama Canal. Mom’s cousin, “Uncle” Clancey, told them tales of his dragon-boating on the Yangtze River and he and Carrie made potential plans to go white-water rafting in Idaho the following year with a group of Carrie’s pals. Uncle Clancey’s daughter, who had just been married the year before, was already expecting (who was likely younger than Carrie herself). And Zoysia, whose father had passed away the year before, towered above everyone in the family picture; she must have been nearly seven feet.
Gifts included Great Grandpa’s rifle, pistol, and shot for Frances, who was simply elated. (Although Collette was sure that Dad would not share the same kind of enthusiasm upon discovering the guns.) However it was a great honor that Uncle Harry would entrust Frances with his father’s guns, and Frances knew it too. Carrie had a new pair of moccasins which she was already wearing, Dad had a giant tin of cashews, Linnea a little beaded Indian purse necklace, Grandma bought an opal ring which seemed to glow, and there was pine Southwestern incense for Joe and Collette, a swishing deep red silk skirt for Collette, and a blue corn muffin mix for OLeif. A plush hat with a giant red chili on the top for Joe and similar chili earrings for Rose, which they both planned on wearing to choir the following day. And Collette couldn’t help but think that the pictures Carrie had taken of Frances and Linnea looked just like the old photo albums of Uncle Mo and Mom back in the day.