This is a free column from Horse Fly in Taos, New Mexico, by John Hamilton Farr.

This is the first time I’ve posted a second Digital Potlatch offering on the heels of another, and what do you know, two consecutive Horse Fly columns to boot.

I’m jumping the gun here, because I don’t know if this will see the light of day in print. (Here’s a video of the publisher, BTW.) But let’s pretend it’s already out there on the newstands, shall we? This one is about an epiphany of sorts I experienced only yesterday, on a trip over 9,820-foot Bobcat Pass to look for elk, but the real topic is people: Texans, actually, and the surreal town of Red River, high up in the mountains…

Column for Horse Fly, 7/09, Taos, New Mexico

Red River Rock

It was a fine day, and something had to be done with it.

My wife wanted to go look for elk on the other side of Bobcat Pass, and that sounded fine. Whenever we do, we never see any elk, but I have a great time formulating ridiculous explanations for why there aren’t any. This is evolving into something of an art form, but I was getting stale, so off we went.

One feature of these excursions is visiting Little Texas in the Mountains, otherwise known as Red River. This always brings back memories of my earlier lives in the Lone Star state, most of which I’d rather forget, except the ones from Austin. Good ole Austin. I was even born in Texas, which probably means I’m eligible for citizenship when they secede again. (I’d rather have a nice New Zealand passport for a second one, but there you go.) Still, we almost always have a good time, especially since we usually stop for something to eat in Red River, and my past and future countrymen do know how to cook a cow.

The drive north was spectacular. We flew up past San Cristobal, where I felt a pang of envy thinking of friends who recently moved there. I would rather live in San Cristobal than anywhere in Taos, as it is another world entirely, a fact driven irrevocably home if you come back from a grocery run to town having forgotten to pick up a gallon of milk. In fact, anywhere much north of Taos puts you in a realm of nature that is the absolutely freaking Real Deal. They do their best to ignore this in Red River but without complete success, and in their failure, they achieve deliverance. How do I know?

There we were in Red River at 6:00 p.m., looking for a place to eat. For some reason, we couldn’t find the place where we once had a decent burger and fries, and I couldn’t remember the name. (“You know, the place that burned down, and then they built another one…”) Yes, it was Texas Red’s Steakhouse, but of course I couldn’t fish that name out of the depths. I saw a sign for “Texas Red’s” on a different building, but it didn’t register. Up and down the main drag we walked, mystified and getting hungrier by the minute. We tried the Bull o’ the Woods Saloon, looking for the holy grail of decent bar food, but the friendly bikers were only drinking, and there wasn’t a pretzel or potato chip in sight. Finally we gave up and went to Texas Red’s.

There was a 20-minute wait time for a table, but the hostess told us we could eat in the bar if we wanted. It was almost peaceful there, despite the loudish music from a country-western duo. They were quite good, however, and I soon fell into the surrealistic atmosphere of country music, a great bartender with better hair than mine, and a silent Star Wars movie I had never seen before playing on the overhead TV. Of course, it quickly dawned on us that we had blundered into the place we’d been looking for all along, the restaurant having moved to a new location. Heh. To top it off, the simple fare was more than good enough, and I left a whopping tip.

But it was the people that impressed me. When we first entered, I thought the flatlanders were oddballs, forgetting that I was the one who didn’t fit in. But standing in the bar listening to the music were a couple of young fathers with toddlers on their shoulders, bouncing up and down. One of the kids wore a big straw cowboy hat and had a pacifier in his mouth. In the lobby, waiting for a table, were hordes of multi-generational family vacationers. The scene was crowded and confusing, but the vibes were friendly, and everyone was mostly calm. I’ll even give you “happy.” Finally, it hit me: most of these folks came from places that were hot as hell and covered with asphalt — just BEING in New Mexico, never mind the incongruity of driving with the AC on at 8,600 feet, was probably a liberating joy. However many places there are in America with thundering freeways and baking parking lots, this wasn’t one of them. These people were in the mountains, whether it meant anything to them or not, and they were better for it.

No, we didn’t see any elk (and I couldn’t figure out why), but a roadside beaver pond was jumping with fish — the last thing I ever expected to find on the other side of a 9,820 foot pass, for sure. On the way back, my wife scored a Vera Bradley bag on sale, and I picked up some fudge. It was 66 degrees, and the sun was still up. Is this a great planet, or what?

(Priorities, chilluns… that’s what it’s all about.)

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This is a free republished column from Horse Fly in TAos, New Mexico, by John Hamilton Farr.

Here you go with more from the Digital Potlatch. I wrote and published the following column for Horse Fly just a year ago this April. It was even posted to the blog at that time, but I’ve removed the old post for the sake of formatting purity. (There wasn’t any potlatch in that version of FarrFeed, and I want the categories to work properly.) Some of you have read this, in other words.

Well, read it again! Aged literature is always better, right? The subject here is a familiar one, namely, why does it take so long to launch a new life when you’re winging it in your 50s and 60s? Pretty scary! In Taos, reinventing yourself is something of a cottage industry and no doubt contributes to the high level of tension in this beautiful place. Locals who saw this column understood it perfectly.

Hmm. I also see that it relates to the previous post. Fascinating.

Column for Horse Fly, 4/08, Taos, New Mexico

Nine-Year Itch

Geez, how long does it TAKE?!

Nine long years in the shadow of the mountain, and my hair’s been growing for maybe six or seven now. I was going to cut it a while back, but someone accused me of trying to look like a biker. I figured he was jealous, so I put away the scissors. Anyway, the flying jackhammers are back.

I don’t know what kind of woodpeckers they are, because I’ve mostly only heard them. Yesterday it sounded like they wanted to eat the chimney. That didn’t last long — how could it? — but then they flew to the bottom of the hill and attacked a telephone pole. Tiring of that, they ended up in the branches of a tall dead aspen, where they finally settled in. Whackety-whackety-brrrap-bap-bap. Brrrap. Whackety. Bap-bap. While this was going on, a herd of scruffy cattle mysteriously appeared in an old corral a little ways down the road, like they’d just dropped out of the sky. At least they had all their parts.

Nine long years in the shadow of the mountain. Every now and then, I think I may be used to this. Now I don’t think of what I don’t have more than a dozen times a month. There’s a tan on my face, even in the winter. I drop Spanish words in conversation with native speakers. I look like I flew out of a tree.

* * *

Never in a million years did I think it would go like this. Heck, I never thought anything. But coming here nine years ago, things were pretty brutal, or seemed to be. The shock of rolling through Questa after living in a place where farmers mowed the thick green grass right up to the cornstalks almost disemboweled me. Still can, too. Not long ago a friend described throwing open his old kitchen door in Missouri in the morning, in the fall, and breathing in the smell of wet red leaves. I nearly walked right out the door and stole a car.

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As the Head is Bent

June 30, 2009 Not Literature
John Hamilton Farr, Taos, New Mexico

I suppose you think this is funny. But look closely, if you dare!
Now I know why my glasses always seem to be tilted: one of my eyes is lower than the other, yow! I just took three photos and they all look like this. Pretty horrible, isn’t it? (No, no, no, the EYES, dammit, [...]

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16-Second Ant Video

June 30, 2009 Video

Some of you won’t want this to be even that long. Not too bad, though, actually, unless you’re related to the June bug in question!

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The Thing That Isn’t There

June 30, 2009 Consciousness

This getting up in the morning and reading the news first off has got to end. Rumi was right, you know.
The internet is deadly in this respect. Concentrated “truth” from focusing on certain streams can overwhelm an organism. I know I’ve said that before, but it’s still true: the stuff is bad for me. It [...]

2 comments

Chipmunk Christ

June 29, 2009 Animals
This image denotes selected living planet mystery tales...

“John, come quick! The cat’s got a long wiggly thing!”
I guess you can tell that my wife doesn’t like to get too close. As it turned out, Callie had caught another chipmunk. By the looks of it, it was dead — no longer struggling — and boy, did she want to come into the [...]

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GRACK! 5/22/06: “Not Coming Home for Supper”

June 28, 2009 GRACK!
Thumbnail image for GRACK! 5/22/06: “Not Coming Home for Supper”

The next morning I went out into an open grassy space between the buildings. There wasn’t a soul around. Carefully I wound the fuse wire into a perfect spiral and loaded the Jetex. I lit the fuse, waited for ignition, and let go: incredibly, beautifully, my custom-built flying wing hissed off and up into the sky! It climbed perfectly in a straight line, turned gently in the breeze, and circled even higher. I couldn’t believe how well it flew.

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Practicing…

June 27, 2009 Music

Hoo boy!
Trying to learn 10 surf songs this weekend to audition with these guys. Egad! ROCK & ROLL, chilluns. With this:

Yow! Me muscles aren’t used to it, but it’s kinda comin’ back.

3 comments

Life in Raintime

June 26, 2009 Video

You can tell it’s been raining a lot around here. So far, in fact, it feels like the wettest, cloudiest June in 10 years.
To celebrate (?), I was shooting a video through the kitchen window, looking past the old Mexican copper teapot, trying to capture the water pouring off the roof. Everything was going [...]

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Horse Fly Column, 10/04: “Windshield”

June 25, 2009 Horse Fly
Thumbnail image for Horse Fly Column, 10/04: “Windshield”

Moving right along with the Digital Potlatch, the following is one of the most appreciated Horse Fly pieces I ever wrote. Back in 2004, it looked for sure like there would be methane gas wells in the pristine Valle Vidal, and the real estate boom was on full-throttle here in Taos. This column was my [...]

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Fastest Cactus in the West

June 25, 2009 Video

Okay, I’m having too much fun. I shot this video while we were driving past about a zillion gorgeous blooming chollas.
( Let me know if you see any.)

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Slip-Sliding Along

June 24, 2009 Taos
Callie the Wonder Cat

It was just that kind of a day, easy and loose.
The first thing is, I missed a phone call. Not that I minded, actually, but the thing was how it happened: I downloaded a free ringtone yesterday, the mating call of a rufous-sided towhee. Well, there are a lot of birds around here, so it [...]

2 comments

Silver Lining Dept.

June 24, 2009 Helen Chronicles

This is for anyone appalled by my letting it all hang out vis-a-vis my family: know ye that the kids are all right, so to speak.
My brother, for example, ended his last phone call to me the way he always does, by saying “I love you.” How many of you have brothers in their 50s [...]

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Threshhold

June 23, 2009 Helen Chronicles

Is there a point beyond which one simply isn’t allowed to cause more emotional pain? Some kind of karmic credit limit? If so, my poor 87-year-old mother is probably overdrawn.
My brother, who may or may not have prostate cancer, has an appointment with a urologist at the VA hospital in Tucson tomorrow — possibly [...]

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