8/19, 8/20, 8/21 New Mexico ebola-testing updates: See below
& I try not to watch too much cable news these days. The only hope for optimism about the future of this country – the planet for that matter – is in not knowing what the hell is happening. I have a friend, an intelligent, well-versed-on-the-stuff-Back-East-think-tank-people-are-well-versed-on person, whose bottom line these days, is: “In the short term I’m pessimistic, but in the long-term, I’m optimistic.” I take him at his word, not knowing why. Avoiding tv news helps.
But: The tube in my kitchen occasionally is on, and I pass within earshot while moving between one chore and other, and something catches my attention. It was on early this morning (8/18) as I sat nursing coffee and perusing my online version of the Santa Fe New Mexican to learn if there was anything new on last weekend’s FBI arrest of our county’s sheriff on civil rights violation charges (that’s another story. Tune in later, please), and read that a young woman is in the hospital in Albuquerque, being tested for the ebola virus. (more…)
& This just arrived from the webby internets. Yr’s Truly can make no claim to its authenticity — its reputedly an “an actual account as relayed to paramedics at a chili cook-off” down in south Santa Fe…
A word of warning to loyal readers: If chili doesn’t make you cry, this will:
& My college roomie Jerry Davies, rest his soul, was a worse hypochondriac than I. One Sunday evening he returned from a woodsy in the hills above Boulder and settled in to study, which he did often. I did what I often did, which was go to bed.
Late in the evening Davies discovered, just above his navel, a tick. Oh. My. God!
I was rudely shaken awake.
“Cox! Wake up! I gotta tick!”
I rose on one elbow, blinking into the fuzzy room (my glasses — which I wore only because they were cheaper than a guide dog — were somewhere out of reach). Davies stood there beside my bed, holding his shirt out away from his hairy stomach, which indeed displayed what appeared to be an industrious tick. (more…)
& For journalism junkies only:
F L A S H !
That’s just the beginning. For a ride into broadcast history, take a look at a reproduction of the UPI Broadcast Wire from 11/22/1963.
& With memories, I’m outta here.
& Today at a funeral home in Grosse Pointe, Michigan they are going to have a memorial service for my cousin and lifelong friend Beverly Harrison. Bev died Sept. 14 — a few weeks after her 83rd birthday and after a long and brave struggle against an incessant parade of afflictions that would have taken the smile off of anybody’s face — but not Bev’s. (more…)
(There’s an unfortunate update. And some good news, too. See below)
& There are worse places for starving, pregnant mares to present a new foal to the world than the Abiquiu-El Rito-Medanales Ruralplex*. (more…)
& First we feared the lengthening tentacles of Canadian newspaper baron Conrad Black. Then Rupert Murdoch started acquiring newspapers and we were concerned. All the while, little Jeff Bezos, ensconced in his ground-gobbling Amazon fortress on the shores of Seattle’s Lake Union, was quietly building what has become the foundation for the greatest control of information the world has ever seen. (more…)
& Yesterday was my birthday. No big deal, I was thinking: I had 74 of them before. What could be different?
But, you know, birthdays mean different things to different people at different times. I was thinking about that yesterday, as I sat on my horse, Grayson, who was taking me on a leisurely tour down to the river and back, and later, as I sat on my ass (no, not my burros) doing nothing except puffing on a cigar. I was thinking about all of my friends who had come from long distances to say Happy Birthday. That was enjoyable. (more…)
& I’d have to hazard a guess that there’s much to be pondered over in the final results of our very own Jemez Mountains Electric Cooperative voting marathon. You may have noticed that we’ve been having an election for six board seats — conducted in six different places on six different days over an eight-day period. Talk about timed-release medication. Hooboy! (more…)
& I just realized that a bunch of us are getting older. Waaaaaay older. Might have something to do with the approach of my silver anniversary. Or is that the platinum anniversary? Or maybe the igneous rock anniversary?
Whatever, it’s luring a bunch of us who no longer can read tiny type to pick our way through the tiny type of the newspaper’s obit pages (yes, there are still newspapers and yes, they still have obituary notices because, yes, people still die.) (more…)