A LIFE OF IT’S OWN …

Sunday, July 28th, 2024. Up at 4AM, out the door at 4:30, driving 50 miles through God’s country to arrive an hour later at the Taos Gorge. It’s first come first serve there and I scored a prime spot to set up my show for the day. When the easels were set and the pictures placed I sat down on my camp chair to wait for the passing parade of tourists who would make the pilgrimage on this day to that singular destination .

As always it would be a long, quiet time before people began to arrive to experience the Taos Gorge Bridge and nearby hiking trails. During this time the artisan/vendors would be setting up their displays and socializing with each other.

By 10AM many people had experienced the bridge over the Gorge and began to arrive at the parking lot and rest area to avail themselves of the nearby hiking trails. These folks would usually visit the various artists after their excursions. Around 10:30 an older man bought a small print of the Gorge. After a four hour wait I was relieved to make a sale. I thought, ‘now I have my gas money for the day’. I’ve been doing this for a lot of years and some days are a wash with no sales. It’s always a gamble. A half hour later another man bought another small print and I thought, ‘good, now I have lunch money too.’

Over the next three hours a steady stream of guests purchased many more prints of the various sizes I offer. As always I kept a careful tally of each transaction. And as always every transaction was a 10 minute romance where I would tell the buyer a story of the particular piece they were getting and also learn something of who they were and the lives they were living. In these encounters I always get impressions of a world peopled by eccentrics, of odd pursuits and of unique lives burnished with amazing endurances. In an age when electronic media influences much of our thinking it is stabilizing, even healing to encounter total strangers in celebrations of our humanity.

By 2PM the traffic had diminished. Given all the excitement of the day and with the constant exposure to the elements I was pretty well exhausted. So I set about breaking down my show. Even then I sold five more prints as I was packing them away into their respective bins. Methodically I folded the easels, putting them and the bins into the back of my truck. It was when I had the truck packed that I realized the right rear tire had developed a slow leak. It was too far down to risk driving anywhere. After asking around if anyone had a pump I called Triple A. This was around 3 PM.

It was nearly an hour when the truck from AC Towing arrived. Thus began my intriguing relationship with the driver, Martin Severino (‘Sev’). And what a character he was. He changed out the flat tire, putting on the spare, which had hung under the truck since it was new 23 years ago. The wheel and tire looked like a prop from “The Road Warrior”. By 4:30 PM I was on my way. Sev was so colorful and in addition to repairing my truck he lifted my spirits. So I laid a $20 tip on him. Also, there was a woman who sat in the passenger seat of the tow truck during the whole event.

It felt good to drive out of the parking lot. I headed into Taos to buy some drinking water. Arriving in town I decided to stop at ‘Guadalajara North’, my favorite old Mexican restaurant to get my old favorite meal – two chicken tacos with rice and beans and a medium horchata drink. Fifteen years ago that meal cost around $9. Now the tariff was just under $18. But I had a pocket full of receipts and wasn’t bothered by any costs. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the tacos had nearly twice the contents of chicken and spices from what they used to contain.

Then it was on the road again and looking forward to laying my head down on my pillow in my own little bed in my own little trailer, which was camped along the Rio Grande on my friend’s ranch south of Española. The final leg of this trip would be 38 miles.

About 10 miles down the highway I heard a loud ruffling sound. I knew immediately to pull off the road. The old spare tire was so ossified it simply disintegrated. 

Once again the day was interrupted by unforeseen events. After a phone call with an astute Triple A agent I was once again waiting for a tow truck. Because of the close proximity of my disabled truck beside the two-lane highway and with it’s high speed traffic I decided to pull out my camp chair and set it down in the desert scrub about twenty feet away from the vehicle. I did this as a precaution in case some ‘Jehu’ crashed into my beautiful truck. I figured ‘no point having us both killed’.

The wait for the tow truck lasted nearly an hour. At first I felt restless. Then I remembered to get out of the shadows in my head and try to enjoy the spectacular environment that surrounded me.

Then passed a period of time that was outside of time. I reflected on the epic day I was living through with all the events and personalities I’d experienced since 4 o’clock that morning. I wandered through memories from my long and storied life. Given my age (80 now) and the intensive events of the day I considered the possibility that I might perish from the strain of it all. But all I could think was, ‘If this was to be, it would be a great time and place to come to my end. I could die with a grin on my face, knowing the good Lord didn’t gyp me.’

After nearly an hour I saw the roof lights of the tow truck approaching in the distance. Wouldn’t you know it, I was once again to receive my deliverance from ‘Sev’. We greeted each other like old friends with smiles and a handshake. Then he proceeded to load my truck onto his truck and we were on our way to Española.

Along the way Sev got a call from his wife on the speaker phone. They shared a loving conversation about what they would have for dinner that evening. After the call he spoke of his love for his wife, how they were high school sweethearts and had been married for 30 years. (She was the woman who sat patiently in the  tow truck at the Gorge while Sev was first working on my truck.) He spoke also of his impending 50th birthday. There was to be a celebration with his extended family and friends. Sev spoke of other things too and I felt privileged to learn of his extraordinary life. A rugged man with a scarred face, he had an honesty about him that I found enviable.

It was nearly 7 PM when we arrived back at Camp Roberto and Sev set my truck down next to ‘The Taj’ (my Casita trailer). Then we said our farewells and he was on his way to the spaghetti dinner he would share with his wife. 

It had been a hot day and the temperature inside the trailer was 93°. I turned on the A/C and within 20 minutes it was down to 75°. After drinking a liter of cool spring water from the refrigerator I laid my head down on my pillow. The sun was setting as I drifted off to dreamland.

Every day has a life of it’s own and sometimes a single day can turn into an epoch. Life is good.