Cyrus Blog - April 2008
When I mention the words "community service" what comes to mind? Criminals perhaps, in bright orange mesh vests picking up trash on the side of the freeway. Unfortunately many teenagers experience this kind of community service as their first major form of discipline. So basically we are teaching them that giving time to help the community is a punishment, reserved for outcasts and lawbreakers.
What is wrong with this picture? Read More »
What is wrong with this picture? Read More »
So what is the deal with the painfully obnoxious new bus advertisements here in Albuquerque? If you live here, chances are you have seen the double length city buses sporting casino, fast food and used car lot ads printed directly on them. You may have seen the city bus covered in a gigantic full vehicle "wrap" promoting diamond jewelry. At first glance I was slightly taken aback as I stood at the bus stop gawking at the jumbo bus covered in casino poker chips and roulette wheels. "Wow," I said to myself, "how in the world did that get approved?" Read More »
New Mexico pride shines through like a lone sun ray on a blossoming yucca. Coyotes sing ancient songs to dream catchers hanging in adobe window frames. Sheets drying in the wind dance with tumble weeds on the mesa. Ice cream truck melodies mingle with the rich aroma of green chile roasting over a charcoal grill. Children laughing to the beat of a lazy Sunday afternoon suck frozen otter pops with multi colored lips.
A dry summer breeze caresses the glistening chrome rims of a dropped impala in Espaņola, while a lizard's tail is snapped off by a kitten in Moriarty. Dusk brings the Jemez sky to life, as the tops of the juniper trees bid the sun farewell. Wood has been chopped, fires are starting. Dinners are cooking. Pots of deer stew, homemade tortillas, Cinnamon biscochitos y todo. Echoes of creation stories linger like embers burning into the early morning.
Polished sterling belt buckles studded with chunks of raw turquoise reflect Zia tattoos, tear drop tattoos and red chile ristras hanging on porches. Big trucks, big cowboy hats, plenty of space, too much for some people. You can see 100 miles away on a clear day. Chickens take over south valley back yards like weeds in the spring. Dogs play in the Rio Grande, shaking off the wetness of the brown river into the tall grasses beneath the cottonwoods. Grandma and granddaughter in church clothes take their time picking wild flowers along a narrow trail on the bosque. Life is slow and humble here, just the way we like it.
A dry summer breeze caresses the glistening chrome rims of a dropped impala in Espaņola, while a lizard's tail is snapped off by a kitten in Moriarty. Dusk brings the Jemez sky to life, as the tops of the juniper trees bid the sun farewell. Wood has been chopped, fires are starting. Dinners are cooking. Pots of deer stew, homemade tortillas, Cinnamon biscochitos y todo. Echoes of creation stories linger like embers burning into the early morning.
Polished sterling belt buckles studded with chunks of raw turquoise reflect Zia tattoos, tear drop tattoos and red chile ristras hanging on porches. Big trucks, big cowboy hats, plenty of space, too much for some people. You can see 100 miles away on a clear day. Chickens take over south valley back yards like weeds in the spring. Dogs play in the Rio Grande, shaking off the wetness of the brown river into the tall grasses beneath the cottonwoods. Grandma and granddaughter in church clothes take their time picking wild flowers along a narrow trail on the bosque. Life is slow and humble here, just the way we like it.
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