writing's on the wall

If you are reading this, then like me, you have survived the 2007 New Mexico state fair. Either that, or you missed it completely. Dry those tears if that is the case. I didn’t even see a hint of a giant butter sculpture, so you really didn’t miss anything.

The vast majority of what I did see of the fair was out of the corner of my eye while perched in the crow’s nest at the end of the home stretch at the racetrack. I am of the opinion that the races are a big part of many people’s annual Fair experience.



A few readers have inquired about what exactly I have to do at the Downs. Basically, I shoot video of the horses and jockeys during the post parade- a ten-minute period leading up to each race where fans in attendance and those huddled together in smoke-filled off-track betting parlors around the world can make last minute decisions on specific horses, and tweak their wagering strategy as needed. I also shoot the entire race from starting gate to finish line, and that video becomes part of the official race record along with the feed from normally four additional cameras from different locations.

That part of the day passes extremely fast! Then there is a period of approximately 10 to 15 minutes between each race where I am not required to shoot anything. I don’t waste that time watching tv, reading or even blogging- although I could. Instead, I utilize that down time reviewing the results of the previous race on paper- you know, looking for patterns on why I failed to select the winning horses. Sure, I could think of reasons to blame the jockeys for failing to urge the “better” horse along quicker, but that really wouldn’t help me on future races. I also take advantage of the time and read the next day’s racing form and picking the ponies that when my personal handicapping biases are applied, literally “stand out” from the rest of the field in much the same way as those 3D posters work.



Usually I run out of things to “do” by the end of the 7th race, and am forced to entertain myself between races. I admit that I enjoy reading the graffiti on the walls of my 10-foot-square corrugated tin shack in the sky. At first glance, I assumed the scrawling represented the documentation of a person gone mad, not unlike what one might expect to find of the walls of a dimly lit prison cell wherein a lifer’s only companion was a black Sharpie. I realize that the writings may not “mean” anything, but that doesn’t prevent the anthropologist in me from attempting to categorize the various phrases. That said, I have developed the following four categories:

Anger Management:
A few examples of scribblings included in this category would be “Murder & Rose’s,” “ 99 Ways to Die” and “Testament (All Lies).” It is worth noting that there are several areas in the walls where a sharp object has been jabbed through the tin. I can’t imagine anyone thinking they weren’t getting enough air to breathe, so I am left assuming they were simply practicing handling a blade when they weren’t working on their penmanship.

Race Horse Names:
Tell me you wouldn’t be tempted to include one or more of these in your next superfecta wager- “Highway Jones,” “Frog Stomp,” “Sweet Life,” “Mama’s Fool” or “Drive it Home.” Personally, I wouldn’t hesitate to lay $2 on “Right to Cheese” across the board!

Band Names:
Sure, “Garden Groove,” “Bong Hits” and “Spitting Clam’s” could all be names of horses, but I just like the idea of a bunch of Albuquerque kids hanging out in a garage playing covers of Kiss tunes and arguing what they should call themselves. Eventually, of course, the band would break up citing artistic differences as the root of the problems, and the lead guitarist would be forced into seeking a summer job (perhaps operating a video camera at the racetrack).

Other:

klimbing that ladder

Don’t worry; I didn’t land a fancy corporate job or anything like that!

However, my plan to spend the down time between the end of baseball and the beginning of hockey kicking around at the racetrack took a twist this past weekend when I wormed my way into one of the video crew positions at the Downs at Albuquerque.

A perfect excuse to spend every day at the racetrack, and earn a little cash while learning more about the fascinating world of horse racing and betting on the ponies!

Without a doubt, the most challenging aspect of my new job is getting to work, even though the track is located only a few miles from home. Actually, the last 50 feet of my commute are the most difficult I’ve had to overcome given that they are literally straight up! Trust me, it is a true white-knuckle experience.



However, once I arrive at my perch, the view from my “desk” is pretty amazing.



Here's a view of the New Mexico State Fair which wraps up this Sunday.



I could keep typing, but I need to save my fingers for clinging onto the ladder through the end of the live racing season in early October.

bob and tom and MY DAD?

If you took the time to look around my father’s office, you might walk away with the impression that he never met a slingshot that he didn’t like. That isn’t true, but the fact that a slingshot is poorly made or simply doesn’t perform well has yet to prevent him from buying a newly discovered species.

To be sure, his collection has resulted in moments of local, national, and even international fame. Probably if anyone was keeping track, they would determine that he has used up his allotted fifteen minutes already.

That said, he does keep showing up in the most unusual places. Take, for instance, this recent mention on Bob and Tom’s website. Scroll down after clicking on the link… you can’t miss it. And just maybe you shouldn’t!

field of refried dreams

I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the full lunar eclipse this evening, but clouds have moved in and are making it next to impossible to enjoy the event. Hopefully they will clear out in the next hour or so.

In the meanwhile, I thought I’d post a few photographs I took way back on August 6th when Kevin Costner participated in batting practice with the Albuquerque Isotopes prior to a game with the Colorado Springs Sky Sox.



It was really a very neat experience, being on the field when this was going on. I was unable to determine who was having more fun... the players or Kevin.





This photo depicts Kevin chatting with outfielder Eric Reed next to the batting cage. Kevin borrowed Eric's bat when it was his turn in the cage. He didn't "Bop the Bunny," but he did do a fine job of hitting- even when manager Dean Treanor cranked up the speed.

barney googled

So I’m sitting in the public library the other afternoon reading old newspapers on microfilm trying to answer my newfound question of whether comic strips might tend to be funnier during war times. It wasn’t long before I convinced myself that I really needed to follow through with a few ideas I’ve had for comics- if for no other reason than to clear the space they are cluttering in my mind.

What follows then is my first offering, which is basically a conceptual prototype. Please remember to click on the image in order to see it in full size. (No, that won’t make it funnier, but it should make it legible.)



To answer the question that one of my readers (a psychic professor) is preparing to ask, the comics included in the Albuquerque Journal on Sunday, March 14, 1943 included the following: Bringing Up Father; The Heart of Juliet Jones; The Lone Ranger; Right Around Home with Myrtle – A Dignified Position!; Ripley’s ~ Believe It or Not; Donald Duck; Blondie; Dennis the Menace; Dick Tracy; Prince Valient; Walt Disney Presents Uncle Remus and his Tales of Brer Rabbit; Mickey Mouse; Henry; Barney Google and Snuffy Smith; Buz Sawyer; They’ll Do It Every Time; The Little King; Archie; Little Annie Rooney; The Katzenjammer Kids; Little Iodine; Thimble Theater starring Popeye; Flash Gordon; Steve Canyon.

Interestingly, the funnies then came in two separate sections as an addition to the 15-cent Sunday paper (along with the ever popular Parade magazine).

Oh yeah…. were they “funny?”

Well, I suppose that is a matter of opinion- except Henry. Mimes are ALWAYS funny!

goats head stew

Until you’ve stepped on a goathead, you’ve never really experienced agony of da feet. However, if you’ve spent any amount of time in the American southwest, odds are that you’ve stepped on one of these seedpods from hell barefoot, or had one jab you through your shoe, punctured a bicycle tire, or had the misfortune of having gotten one stuck under your fingernail.



Also commonly called Texas Sandburs, bull’s head and caltrop, goatheads are the product of the Puncturevine (or Tribulus terrestris L. for all you braniac Latinheads). First reported in the United States just over 100 years ago, it is believed that the seedpods of the puncturevine were transported from the Mediterranean area as stowaways in imported sheep wool. Stranger things have happened.



This weed is extremely dangerous to livestock, but that really doesn’t impact my garden since the only critters I have in any large number this spring are grasshoppers. Eliminating puncturevines from my yard has been the highest priority since I began working my small urban plot a couple/few years ago. These weeds are so annoying, that I also watch for them on both sides of the alley as they approach my zone of defense. I will drop any task I am doing to grab a puncturevine by the taproot and either toss it into a fire, or into the trashcan. Believe it or not, I am of the opinion that one would find worse things in the city landfill than these monsters.



As I prepared to snap these photographs, I began wondering if perhaps my hatred of these weeds was unique or somehow “over-the-top”- given the fact that I see them all over the city and no one seems to be trying to do anything about them. Imagine my surprise while conducting a little interweb research, to discover someone who hates goatheads as much as I do! Such an informative website, and I admit that I am intrigued by this idea of their Puncturevine Weevils.

The notion that these nasty seeds can remain viable for up to two decades while lying in wait for the proper conditions to germinate is baffling to say the least. Although I do believe I can control the weeds in my yard by staying on top of it, deploying a small army of seed and vine munching grubs in the alley might prove a worthy battle plan- assuming, of course, that the larvae do not mutate into strawberry eating weevils. Unfortunately, the high price of the weevils may force me to approach the board of our neighborhood association to see if they will provide some funds.

As an interesting digression, I’ve also learned that “Waiting on a Friend,” one of my favorite Rolling Stones songs that appeared on the Tattoo You album in the early 80s, was in fact, an outtake from the Goats Head Soup album that was released in 1973- on the 70th anniversary of the first reported finding of the puncturevine in the United States. Who knows… perhaps the “friend” Mick and the boys were waiting on was a puncturevine weevil.

missed it by that much

I saw a number of interesting items and places while traveling along the road back to Albuquerque upon the conclusion of the recent Midland excursion. One of the themes that repeatedly crossed my mind was how much the landscape and the small towns I passed through reminded me of the beginning of one of my favorite films- Midnight Cowboy.

Once I got home, watching the film again became a priority. When I observed the signage in the opening that indicated Joe Buck (Jon Voight’s character) was living Big Spring, Texas before heading off for the greener pastures of New York City, I recalled the portion of a discussion with the owner of Cloud 9 Sports Cards in Odessa just three days ago when he mentioned Big Spring in passing. A quick Google search revealed that Big Spring is located just about 40 miles northeast of Midland. Nertz! I’m kind of bummed that I failed to realize that I was so close.

I could very easily have been trying to find the location of the Sahara Drive-In (renamed “Big Tex Drive-In” for the opening scene of the film) in Big Spring instead of snapping photos of the modern Big Sky Drive-In located between Midland and Odessa. Triple darn that I failed to have a slice of pie in the diner where Joe Buck once worked as a dishwasher before walking out carrying only his dream and cowhide suitcase.



Rest assured, next time I find myself in Midland for baseball, I will definitely make the side trip over to Big Spring and take several dozen photos of the “downtown” area and anything that is left of the drive-in theater.

One blogworthy site I did see for the first time was a fun Buddy Holly statue in the heart of Lubbock’s Walk of Fame. I was also very impressed with Lubbock’s brick-paved streets that have survived for close to 90 years.



Also just a few miles off the route one encounters the reported gravesite of outlaw Billy the Kid. This location is as interesting as it is controversial.

midland, texas... it's a gas!

Greetings from Midland, Texas!



According to popular legend, Midland’s name is a derivation of “Midway,” the original name given to the point located approximately half the distance between El Paso and Fort Worth as the iron horse flew. Legend continues that “Midland” was adopted as the town name not long after the discovery was made of a number of other small Texas towns named Midway. Undoubtedly, that resulted in some very confusing days for the Pony Express riders before it all got sorted out.

Does that answer your question of what I’m doing in Midland? No it does not.

Am I here to visit what is reported to be the childhood home of the 43rd President of the United States? Hardly, but since I’m already here...



Baseball is what brings me to this part of the country- specifically, Double A baseball. After a couple of seasons of a buddy telling me how enjoyable ballgames are here in Midland, I decided to accept his offer to take a road trip over to check it out.



My first impression is that Citibank Ballpark is a very nice facility. The fans that turn out to support the Midland RockHounds, are typical, if not fewer in number that what I would have expected. It is now my understanding that that majority of the quarter-million people in this area are most likely too busy sitting at home watching Friday Night Lights on tv and getting pumped up for the high school football season than to be bothered to head out to enjoy a baseball game.



It is reported that Midland receives approximately 14.8 inches of precipitation each year. Personal experience suggests that the vast majority of that amount arrives in the form of a single thunderstorm in the late morning/early afternoon hours each May 2nd. Thankfully the field at Citibank Ballpark drains quickly!

A quick glance around reveals very little in the way of scenery beyond a forest of mesquite and a never-ending sea of oil derelicts and pumpjacks. Although I’m in no position to write a travel brochure for the city, it is worth noting to my “Hollywood” readers that Midland’s seemingly abandoned business district would provide a prime location for the long overdue remake of Omega Man.



The Midland RockHounds defeated the Corpus Christi Hooks in each of the three games I attended. The overall production was eerily similar to the Isotopes games in spite of the differences. It was very pleasant to attend a few games as a fan, collect a handful of Texas League baseballs during batting practice and get several baseball cards autographed. I would definitely recommend that anyone passing through the area schedule an evening to take in a ballgame here in the Permian Basin.

bill lee

Yes, this is same fella Warren Zevon recorded a song about.

I really don’t write letters to current or former baseball players and ask them for an autograph. However, after recently reading Bill Lee’s The Wrong Stuff and watching “Spaceman: A Baseball Odyssey,” the documentary about Bill and his trips to Cuba to play baseball, I decided it would be a shame to not have one of his cards autographed in my collection.

So I sent Bill a letter along with one of my Archaeology Rocks t-shirts, and asked him to sign his card from the 1972 Topps set. Several weeks later, he sent it back… signed beautifully with a blue Sharpie.



Even if you don’t happen to follow baseball, Bill Lee is a person worthy of your attention. The fact that the “Spaceman” includes “EARTH” in his signature should be enough to make you want to Google him and find out what that is all about. There are so many interesting things about this man that I wouldn’t even attempt to summarize his character in a blog entry.

You’ll have to excuse me now so I can begin reading Have Glove Will Travel.

one man's trash...

... is another man’s dollhouse.

Whether you live in a large city or the smallest of towns, you can always bank on discovering the strangest things while walking through alleys. I guess it boils down to the notion that people invest the majority of their yard beautification efforts towards the front of their homes, and neglect the backsides under the theory that no one will see it. Possibly that also indicates that most people are oblivious to what alleys have to offer beyond serving as a path to their garage, or the rare shortcut. Many people also tend to employ “their” alley as an extension of their world.

I think I’ve always been a sort of alley investigator, although I definitely prefer to explore them on foot rather than by car. First, I tend to miss the finer details when traveling at say, 35 miles an hour compared to 2 or even 3 miles per hour. Also, vehicles pretty much remove any possibility of stealth from the operation, whereas on foot a person may only attract the attention of the occasional family dog, or an entire block of family dogs if you have unusually large feet, or haven’t learned how to pick them up when you walk.

I recently encountered this relatively creepy item while on walkabout in search of interesting items to photograph. It was stashed in the alley behind a large house in Albuquerque’s historic Huning Highland Addition that was featured prominently in the nightmarish film “Suspect Zero.”



I was immediately captivated by the amount of effort that appeared to go into the construction of the house to make it look old and run down. Then I realized that it probably wasn’t so much the effort that went into the creation it inasmuch as it was just sloppily constructed and then more than likely left outside in the elements for any number of years. When I reached down to move the house into light more suitable for photography, I was impressed the object’s weight. I was particularly fond of the yellow room upstairs.



Upon reaching the conclusion that the toy wasn’t a scale model of the property’s actual house, I realized that it was time to continue with my exploration. Although I didn’t feel any urges to save the item from an eventual trip to the dump, I couldn’t help but wonder if there is an interesting story surrounding this house.

old red mare

Kurt Vonnegut Jr. and I had an understanding. He would write fabulous books, and I would read them. Otherwise, we left each other alone. This is how it always was. This is how it should always have continued to be. Unfortunately, Time and Nature conspired to rain on that parade.

Now that I’m positive Kurt isn’t reading my blog (at least my blog isn’t getting any hits from IP addresses from Tralfamadore), I can write about topics that I otherwise may not have- such as the odometer reading in my pickup truck.



As trivial as it may be, my truck reached a milestone on the same day that Mr. Vonnegut passed away, by hitting the 100,000-mile mark. I remember when I was a kid the day our family car (I think it was a 1965 Chevy Impala) was going to “roll over,” and I thought it was going to literally flip off to the side of the road. It didn’t. I also remember my eyes being glued to the odometer as the dials changed for the next four miles. Then I sorta lost interest as we neared the Spoon River bridge.

When I purchased my Ford Ranger on August 20, 1995, I did so because I was pumping so much money into keeping my Dodge Daytona running that I figured I might as well be making payments on a new vehicle. It was the first brand new vehicle I had ever purchased, so it was a pretty big deal. Obviously I had no idea how long the truck would last, and quite honestly, I didn’t think much about it either. I was just happy to have a reliable means of tooling around Phoenix and the greater southwest.

Fast forward nearly a dozen years and an estimated 35 oil changes, the milestone was reached just west of the San Mateo overpass while traveling east on Interstate 40 through the heart of Albuquerque. If you must know, Aretha Franklin’s “Spanish Harlem” was flowing from the factory radio and speakers.



Overall, it has been a very good truck. The truck’s 13th windshield (that has been cracked now for a couple of years) stands testament to the fact that I no longer attempt to fight the fact that the vehicle is a magnet for flying gravel. The truck definitely has a unique personality, and features strange behavior such as the windshield wipers turning themselves on randomly, it hates to be washed, and similar to the driver, the radio receiver doesn’t “get” NPR.

It is possible that these items may be attributed to spiritual remnants attached to the human remains and associated grave items that were transferred in the cab from archaeological excavation sites around Arizona to various laboratories. Certainly there is no indication that Henry Ford’s ghost has been hitching a ride.

opening day 2007

Best day of the year? Why that would be Opening Day of course! How’d you celebrate the occasion this year?

I spent the afternoon soaking up rays and suds at Isotopes Park watching a ballgame between the visiting San Diego State Aztecs and the University of New Mexico Lobos. Normally, I steer clear of college baseball, but not when a team is managed by the likes of Tony Gwynn.



Recently elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame, Gwynn is quite happy to sign autographs for anyone who asks nicely with a “please,” and adds a sincere “thank you.”



After Tony walked around the dugout showing this card and saying, “This is my motorcycle,” I asked him how the bike was doing. He replied that it was "sitting in the garage collecting dust." It is nice to be reminded that even Hall of Fame ballplayers are regular people (sort of).

boxer hill

While conducting my ongoing historical baseball research project, I recently ran across this interesting item in the October 27, 1888 edition of Albuquerque’s Morning Democrat.



Perhaps “interesting” is misleading in that this particular item would be meaningful to only a small handful of people who would find the overall topic, well…. interesting. While I had already discovered documentation that a few of the ball players included in my research were from Bloomington, Illinois, the thought never entered my mind that any of my research subjects would have been born only a few miles from the tiny town where I grew up and traded baseball cards with my buddies before little league practice.

Having little information besides the infielders’ last name to go on, I fired off a couple of emails hoping to catch a break. Larry Lock, President of the Kewanee Historical Society, provided me with the first name of “Beldon,” and the following from the October 25, 1888 edition of the Kewanee Weekly Independent.

“ ‘Beldie’ Hill returned from the south-west last Saturday. He has for several months past been playing ball with the team of Santa Fe, and has made for himself an enviable reputation by his fine work both in the diamond and with the bat.”

It is amazing what having a person’s first name can do for a researcher, even if there is an issue with spelling. With that important clue in hand, I was able to locate the following information with a few simple Google searches.

Belden L. Hill was born on August 24, 1864 in Kewanee, Illinois. Hill got his only taste in the big leagues in 1890 just three days after his 26th birthday playing third base for the Baltimore Orioles. Hill’s final major league appearance occurred on September 4th that same year.

The 5’10” right-handed infielder played in only 9 games, hitting safely 5 times in 30 at bats including a pair of doubles and a trio of runs scored. “Beldie” swiped six bases and was hit by the pitcher three times. Playing the hot corner, Belden committed 7 errors in 49 total chances, resulting in a lackluster fielding percentage of .857.

In 1896, the Cedar Rabbits (professional baseball club of Cedar Rapids, Iowa) began playing in a brand new ballpark named Hill Park in honor of Belden Hill, then a cigar wholesaler and investor in the team. Hill took over as manager of the team in 1897 and led the Rabbits in their quest to capture the Western Association title with an impressive record of 84-41. Cedar Rapids joined the Three-I (Illinois-Indiana-Iowa) League in 1901 and immediately dominated the competition. Hill retired as manager of the Cedar Rapids club (then nicknamed the Bunnies) following the 1908 season.

Although no longer serving as the team’s skipper, Hill was obviously still heavily involved with the club as it is reported that he failed to sign future major leaguer Edmund “Bing” Miller to a minor league contract in 1911 with his offer of $70 per month. Miller would eventually spend 16 seasons in the majors, and appeared in three consecutive World Series (1929-1931) with the Philadelphia Athletics.

Kewanee Historical Society archives note that Belden’s brother Hugh, a prominent pharmacist and sports enthusiast, was president of the Kewanee Boilermakers, a team in the class D minor league Central Association from 1908 to 1911. Unfortunately, Cedar Rapids failed to organize professional baseball clubs during that period. While it is pretty clear that Belden didn’t lead a team against Kewanee, I wonder if he had anything at all to do with the Boilermakers (either in person or financially). Belden Hill came out of retirement to manage the Cedar Rapid Bunnies to sixth and forth place finishes in the Central Association in 1913 and 1914.

Belden Hill passed away on October 22, 1934, and is buried at Oak Hill Cemetery in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

The Cedar Rapids baseball club sold Hill Park to the Cedar Rapids Community School District for $9,000. The ballpark was razed in the late 1940s.

………..

Fifteen bonus points to anyone who can name another person from Kewanee, Illinois to have had AT LEAST one at-bat in Major League Baseball.

walterwood

Just when I was beginning to think that people might be growing tired of seeing our neighborhood on the silver screen, Hollywood came a knockin’ once again- this time three doors down to the south.

A few scenes of Sunshine Cleaning are being filmed at the Kim and Charles Salas house on the southeast corner of Walter and Lead. Here’s a quickie pic I snapped from the front porch this afternoon that demonstrates how even a small budget film can really impact a neighborhood.



I don’t know much about the film besides what is already posted on IMDB.com. Alan Arkin stars in the movie. One of the more intriguing actors in the movie is Amy Adams who not only reportedly provides the voice of Sweet Polly Purebred in the new Underdog movie, but also appeared in the juicy seventh episode of SMALLVILLE a number of years ago. In Craving, Adams portrayed Jodi Melville, a confused teenager who’s vegetable-only diet (of course heavily dosed with kryptonite) created an unquenchable thirst for the body fat of unsuspecting Smallvillians.

king of the food chain

Think you're funnier? Submit your own "winning" entry HERE.

tuesday afternoon

The Moody Blues rolled into Rio Rancho, New Mexico on February 27th with the sole purpose of entertaining an estimated crowd of 2,500 fans who didn’t want to travel all the way from Albuquerque to Denver to see them, but were willing to make the trek out to the Santa Ana Star Center.

The British rockers would have been successful in their goal even if they had only performed one of their two 50-minute sets. After opening the concert with Lovely to See You Again, My Friend, the band delivered an extremely polished version of Tuesday Afternoon- probably one of the songs that first attracted me to the Moody Blues many years ago.

You are aware, I assume, that the Moodies are one of Opus’ favorite bands. Although you may not completely understand everything about the life of that odd little comic penguin, one can hardly question his taste in music.

The light show was phenomenal as the band continued with Lean On Me Tonight, Never Comes the Day and Steppin' in a Slide Zone. Although the crowd clearly enjoyed the overall performance up to this point, The Voice was the first song to get the majority of the people up on their feet at the same time.

The remainder of the first set included spirited renditions of One More Time to Live, I Know You’re Out There Somewhere and The Story in Your Eyes.

My challenge during the subsequent 20-minute intermission was to bombard the audience with commercials on the jumbotron and ads on the ribbon board- forcing them to seek shelter among the concession stands located throughout the concourse. I think it is safe to say that I managed to sell a few beers.

The second set began with Your Wildest Dreams. It’s funny how I hadn’t thought about the video for that song in over two decades until I saw them in concert.

Isn’t Life Strange was easily the strongest performance of the evening. The best way I can think to describe that tune for someone not at the concert is to ask them to imagine watching a autumn-colored leaf drop from the top of a tall tree, rocking gently toward the ground, then catching a thermal breeze and rising ever so slowly back toward the fading sun. You know that it will eventually come to rest, but catch yourself hoping this one will defy the rules and remain aloft- thereby preventing the onset of winter. But it can't.

Before the people standing at the end of Isn’t Life Strange had a chance to reclaim their seats, they were sawn in half by bassist John Lodge ripping through The Other Side of Life. Another hit from the 80s!

The next tune, December Snow, was from their Krismas album released some 4 years ago- so it was new to me.

No other song of the evening was performed with more passion than Higher and Higher as percussionist Graeme Edge climbed down from his drum set to take the microphone. Armed with only a tambourine, Edge danced an energetic jig while chasing flutist Norda Mullen around the stage and flashing his highly contagious Cheshire grin at appreciative fans- all while surreal clips of historic Apollo missions and Neil Armstrong strolling on the moon were projected onto the giant screen behind the band. Even if you don’t click on any of the other links in this entry, be sure you do check out this one. It will give you a good idea of the amount of joy this artist has on stage.

Edge has the distinction of being the sole remaining member of the original Moody Blues formed in 1964. Newbies Justin Hayward and John Lodge have only been with the band for fourty-one years. It almost seems rude of me to not include the names of the other band members (two keyboardists and another drummer), but sometimes I'm like that. You’ll get over it.

Band member introductions were followed by a rousing performance of I’m Just a Singer (in a Rock 'n' Roll Band). The psychedelic 30-year-old concert footage on the backdrop would have been fun enough- but throw in the live performance on the stage in front and I began to appreciate how successful bank robbers must feel on payday.

I didn’t get to “see” the end of the show, as I had to make my way backstage in order to be ready to run the post-concert commercials. However, I had no troubles hearing as they closed with Are You Sitting Comfortably? and Nights in White Satin.

I was extremely disappointed when the concert director announced that the band would be performing Question for their encore instead of Ride My See-Saw which they reportedly played as the encore following a concert in Las Vegas, Nevada three weeks previously. Don’t get me wrong, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Question, but See-Saw is one of my favorite Moody Blues’ tunes. Much to my delight, the band returned to the stage and performed it as a second encore.

The only other song that I REALLY wanted to see the Moodies perform was Legend of a Mind. Maybe next time!

didja hear the one about the lumberjack?

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albuquerque - february 12, 1876

Albuquerque's first telecommunications link with the outside world was established via telegraph on February 12, 1876. The telegraph office was located in the Centennial Hotel owned by Major Melchior Werner.

albuquerque - february 10, 1897

Fire completely destroyed the Armijo House, Albuquerque's first major hotel, on this date in 1897. Located on the southwest corner of Railroad Avenue (now Central) and 3rd Street, the Armijo House was a favorite stopping place of many visitors traveling through the New Mexico Territory via the transcontinental railroad. The railroad continues to service this burg today.

albuquerque - february 9, 1883

Milt Yarberry, Albuquerque's first marshal, was hanged after being found guilty of shooting an unarmed man to death. It wasn’t the first time Milt had killed an unarmed man, but it was the first time he was hanged for it.

Legend has it that tickets were sold to the hanging that took place around 3 p.m. on February 9, 1883. Approximately 100 men were allowed into the yard, while an estimated 1,000 more gathered outside the fence on rooftops and in trees to witness the first legal execution in Bernalillo County.

Following a lengthy speech, witnesses stated that Yarberry uttered his last words as Archie Hilton pulled a black cap down over his face… “Well, you are going to hang an innocent man.” Doctors present stated that it took 9 minutes for Milt’s heart to stop beating after he was hanged.

Yarberry was buried in the Santa Barbara Cemetery in Martineztown. Although it was reported that Milt was buried still wearing the noose as his necktie, I can’t help but suspect that that particular detail was in fact, fiction.