Alamodoso Magazine Otero County Issue August 2022

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Peridot August Birthstone The Peridot (pronounced PEAR-A-DOE or PEAR-A-DOT) is generally a light green color.

It’s a unique birthstone because it is always a shade of green and no other color. The intensity of color depends on the amount of iron; the more iron it contains, the deeper green it will be and, generally, the more valuable.

Peridot is both a day stone and a night stone, keeping its shining color even under artificial lighting.

For this reason, it is sometimes called “Evening Emerald”.

Peridots are found either deep within the mantle of the Earth at high temperatures and brought to the surface by volcanic activity or riding to Earth on flaming meteorites (called pallasite meteorites)! The latter is fairly rare and the peridot deposits are usually too small for jewelry.

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Pliny the Elder (23-79 AD), an ancient naturalist, first recorded the existence of peridot on a small island off the coast of Egypt. This island was closely guarded by the ancient Egyptians because it was thought to be the site of priceless treasures. It is widely believed that some of Cleopatra’s famous emeralds were actually peridots.

Peridot was popular among the Pharaohs in Egypt it is the national gem of Egypt.

Peridots are also closely connected to the Hawaiian culture they are thought to be the tears of the volcano goddess Pele.

Peridot, the bright green color of nature, is associated with harmony, good health, restful sleep, and peacefulness. Known as the stone of compassion, peridot calms anger by giving renewal to all things.

When set in gold, this gem was said to protect the wearer from nightmares. Supposedly, it frees the mind of envious thoughts that can damage and strain relationships. Also, peridot is believed to help depression.

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Spirits on New York

Don’t Mess with Miss Alice

Probably around 1999, that's been a long time already, a friend of mine, Nancy and her husband 10

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Jay, came down from the Houston area, to visit Mr. Bill and I. It was early spring, cause we went up to 16 Springs and it was still frozen, that's how I know it was early spring. The thawing hadn't reached the mountain yet.

On the way back here, Mr. Bill said, " Well, let's go to Victoria and make some coffee?"

Okay we will and we rounded up at Victoria. Of course Nancy had to shop, and Bill and Jay visited, after which we got settled back to drink our coffee.

Then Mr. Bill asks " Have you told Nancy about Willy?"

Nancy's ears perked up, she and I had been friends since our kids ha been little bitty and said, "Who's Willy?"

I said, "Oh, he's an entity that lives here with me."

She looked at me and said "You've got to be kidding?"

So I turned around and reached for the printed interview about Willy.

I read it to her and by then Story continues page 14

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she was standing over here leaning against the counter with her elbows behind her and feet kind of in front of her leaning back.

She said “There is no way, Alice, that you could believe in that sort of thing?"

And about that time this thought popped into my brain and I opened my mouth to say “Nancy don't” By then she was floun-dering around You have to understand Nancy is tall, dangling, boney all legs and here she was dangling around behind the counter, trying to keep from hitting the floor. She finally got herself together and said "Did you see that, the counter moved?"

If you ever been in Victoria you know that the counter doesn't move. Mr. Bill built the counter and an elephant can do tricks on it.

I looked at her and said " Nope, Willy just pushed you off the counter.”

'You've got to be kidding?"she said. " “No! think about it, you were making fun of Mrs. Alice and he is very protective of me.

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You can tease me and carry on and have a good time but don't make malicious fun of me."

Well anyway she was asking for me to tell her more. So I had to go thru the whole thing about Willy being here and how he made himself known to me back in 1986 or 1987.

He was a such a cold spot , I nearly froze to death as I was running out the front door.

Anyway that was a fun time.

Now, Nancy and Jay go back to the Houston area where Nancy has a bunch of double cousins because brothers and sisters of different families marry each other.

Every year the first cousins get together a reunion. They tell what they did that was most spectacular, and whoever tells the best story wins some money.

Well guess what, Nancy told them she had been pushed down by a ghost.

SHE WON THE MONEY!!!

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

Roadrunner Emporium New York Avenue, Ghost & History Tour

Dates: November 12, 2022 Location: Roadrunner Emporium Fine Arts Gallery, Antiques & More Address: 928 New York Avenue, Alamogordo, NM 88310 Phone: (707) 880-6238 Time: 10:00 AM to 4:00 PM Price: $20.00 Join New York Avenue Historians Chris Edwards, Alice Weinman and partners showcase the history of New York Avenue's 1900 beginning 16

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with an interactive walking tour and ghost stories of the spirits of the late 1800's and early 1900's that roam the street of New York Avenue, Alamogordo. This walking tour includes lunch and specialty beverages plus a visit to multiple business locations such as Roadrunner Emporium built in 1900, Victoria on Pins and Needle built in 1905, the Sierra Theater now the Flickinger Center behind the scenes, New York Avenue Art and Music Studio and the private home of Emmanual Renteria and Lydia Aspen in the former Coke-a-Cola Plant, Otero Arts in the 1936 Women's Club and ending at the Tularosa Basin Museum where the docents bring history to life. This is one of the most popular history and ghost tours in New Mexico and takes about 4 hours to complete.

The tour begins telling the story of the City of Alamogordo which was founded in 1898, when the El Paso and Northeastern Railroad, headed by Charles Eddy, extended the railway to the town. Charles influenced the design of the community, which included large wide thoroughfares and tree-lined irrigation canals.

Charles Eddy's brother, John Eddy, named the new city Alamogordo after a grove of fat cottonwoods he remembered from the Pecos River area. When Alamogordo was laid out in 1898, the east-west streets were given numerical designations, while north-south streets were named after states, thus the main street Story continues page 20

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commercial zone of New York Avenue.

The present-day White Sands Boulevard was then called Pennsylvania Avenue.

New York Avenue was developed via the original First National Bank of Alamogordo chartered in 1900, at the corner of 10thStreet and New York as an anchor to downtown. This 1900’s building still showcases the original vaults and is a showplace of art, culture and history as Roadrunner Emporium Fine Arts Gallery, Antiques and More 928 New York Avenue showcasing bank vaults of 1900.

From this location the tour proceeds meet Alice Weinman who tells the ghost stories of Willie whose bones are in the floorboard of her building.

As a former horse wrangler in 1898 he died in the hands of the sheriff and now protects "Ms. Alice" from nonbelievers of ill intent. Ms. Alice share the tales of other New York Avenue Ghosts such as Judy, the restless spirit of Maggie and the loud partiers of the Railroad Men's Club and beyond.

The tour then walks onward for a treat in artistic expression and history that is entertaining and enlightening. Come join the fun and see history come alive at 928 New York Avenue and hear the whispers of the past...

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Nolan and Taylor Ojeda, owners of The Local Bodega located at 906 New York have discovered that there is something unique with their building.

Their security cameras have caught orbs of light moving through the walls of their shop in the wee hours of the morning.

While no one knows for sure what these objects are, there are no lack of theories.

The most popular theory is that these balls of light / energy are from folks who perished in the deadly New Hotel Weigele fire in 1969 at 822 N. New York , and that their “spirits” travel from the site, through the Local Bodega’s walls to the former Funeral Home located at 914 New York after a night on the “spiritual” town.

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The former JC Penny building located at 819 N. New York is rumored to be haunted.

During a remodel, a plumber experienced activity on the third floor. He was on a ladder and fell and felt somebody catch him.

Huge, loud noises were heard all the time and when neighboring business owners were asked if they heard anything they said they didn’t hear anything.

Hidden Haunts Paranormal explored the building for any paranormal activity. They set up equipment, infrared cameras, recorders and all kinds of equipment that is sensitive to energy, looking for spirits.

During the investigation Hidden Haunts Paranormal attempted to communicate with spirits and received responses from the unknown through radio frequencies, flashlight signals and dowsing rods.

One of their investigators saw figures in the dark even felt something touch her. Several of the investigators also felt a cold touch that made the hair on their necks stand up.

Their conclusion was that the building was indeed haunted and they made contact with one female spirit and one male spirit who appeared to be a small child in the photographs they took.

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Maggie a young lady of 1910 that died on the surgeons table at 911 New York Avenue is said to be a hostile spirit whose anger prevents her from “crossing over.”

She was siad to have fallen off her horse during a cattle drive near Tularosa, and trampled.

When a medium communicated with her, she left shaken saying she was a evil presence and too strong for her to communicate with and keep her sanity.

Maggies’s spirit, full of anger from having died without having lived her life has a hate for the living who go about living theirs.

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

A Spiritual Witness Original Story by Miss Alice of Victoria November 2015

One day in August of 1998, Mr. Bill and I were in Arkansas going down the road enjoying the scenery when my phone rings.

Upon answering there was a hysterical voice that came through, “Mom!”.

That was my daughter calling.

“We’ve been robbed!”

“What? Robbed?” I said. “ Yeah, someone jimmied the back door, came in and cleaned out the cash drawer!”

Immediately all I could think about was that Victoria had been trashed. You can guess what would happen if my store had been vandalized. What a sad state of affairs that would be.

Quickly my daughter added, “Momma, not a thing was hurt.

Everything is perfect. The only thing missing is the money that was in the cash drawer and the back door is open.”

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With that bit of good news, we continued our trip. When we got home, we found out one of the ladies discovered the back door was open and called the police.

They came, and sure enough, everything in the cash drawer was gone.

At the time, my grandson-inlaw was the police chief and my son-in-law was the judge; both of whom knew of my relationship with Willie.

When we got back, the Police Chief said “Miss Alice, why don’t we interview Willie?”

I said “What?”.

The first day after the robbery I came in through the back door and I was so mad at Willie.

If I could have gotten a hold of him, I would have chocked him, seriously. He has been in this building for almost 100 years I’m just camping here - and he will be here long after I’m gone.

Can you imagine Miss Alice yelling at the spirit of Willie? But I did, I was so upset.

Anyway, the chief of police said to interview Willie. I thought “why not?” “He was here!.”

So I got with my medium friend, Pat, and we asked Willie about the intruder. I have the exact words written down, and this is what Willie had to say about the robbery.

“He was caucasian. Male. In his late 30’s, 5 feet 10 or 11 inches. Hawkish face and short featured.”

Story continues page 28

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Willie didn’t know what a ponytail is, that is why he said

“tied to the neck”. “He had a bad aura, not evil, but bad. I couldn’t make any impression on him.”

“He was impervious to me. I stood right across the counter from him and he didn’t know me.”

“Might be a good idea if you clear the energy here and place some protection around. I will help you.”

“No, I don’t think he will be back.

He’s on his way to somewhere else. I get the feeling he’s heading north, but that's just a guess.”

Going on with the story, I talked to the Police Chief about Willie’s “Deposition” and he said “Well, you’ve got a witness, Lets to catch him.”(Miss Alice laughing) You can see where this is going. “Yes, your honor, I have a witness.”

Judge “Go ahead and produce your witness” Lawyer “I can’t your honor, he is a ghost” Everyone at the store had fun with this, and after all, we only lost about $100.

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W

illie likes to make a dramatic entrance, being a spirit, he can change his appearance at will. He first appeared to me as a skeleton, then he put on overalls - and finally - took on the aspect of his everyday mortal life - chaps, vest, nearly worn out cowboy boots and spurs. He stood, twirling a rope, as he talked.

He was born March 13, 1864, on a ranch outside Tularosa, the third son of a Mexican woman and a ex-Federales father.

(Historically, Federales was the common term used for the Mexican regular) It was a good life. A Hard life, but a close family relationship like they had enhanced it. “I miss that” Willie admitted. “Dad knew ranching and taught us boys everything we know.”

Story continues next page

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Fully fleshed out and dressed, Willie was short and bandylegged, but very muscular. His slightly craggy face with his blue eyes and brown hair cut short and neat.

Along with that broken nose which had been set slightly askew inspired trust on sight. Of course,

that was his stock in trade. Willie was a horse thief. He grew up worshipping Billy the Kid and tried to emulate him. In his own words, “Billy got famous and I got shot”.

“Mother wanted us boys to grow up and amount to something.

Mothers are like that you know. I don’t know what happened to her and Dad, or any of my brothers. I was thrown out of the family when they found out I was stealing horses.”

“I was pretty successful at it for a while” he said with his eyes twinkling.

At age 34, Willie got caught.

He was shot and died in surgery.

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“Some folks I had stolen horses from must have felt cheated. They didn’t get to hang me, so they flung my bones and tossed them into the ground. Can you imagine?

And they thought they were such good people!.”

All this happened in 1898 when Willie was 34 years old.

“There was no building there back then. /When they did build one, they found me, covered me back up and left me.”

“This space down below - it was used for storage for a long time. I ought to know, they bruised my bones often enough with boxes!”

“I let them know about it too.

Pinched a few I did and scared them off. Served them right!

Finally they shoveled some dirt in here, closed it up and left me alone.”

Willie still likes to make his presence known once in a while, “You know that lady that runs this place now? She use to keep me tucked away in the back of her mind, but she’s becoming more aware of me lately.

Maybe its because I turn a light on here now and then. Tell her that I don’t turn them all on ‘cause I don’t want her to rely on me. I may look trustworthy, but I’m not! Lots of folks have found that out.”

“I’ve watched this town grow from an exciting place to a pretty ordinary one. The most exciting things around here are the ghosts.

Yes, I’m aware of them. That bunch on the corner is always whooping it up. How could I not know they were there?”

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Leo August 2022 Horoscope

It's August, Leo, which means it's still your season, although you will have to pass the torch to Virgo later this month. Last month ended with a new moon in your sign that brought new beginnings, projects, or ways of thinking.

You're a bold fire sign, love getting attention, and tend to celebrate your birthday all of Leo season. As a result, you're extra powerful right now, dear Leo. Circle Thursday, August 11, in your calendar because it marks a bright full moon in Aquarius.

While new moons represent beginnings, full moons mean manifestation. So, expect to see results from the intentions you set during the new moon.

In particular, this full moon brings 32

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magic to your love life. It could signify the first date with a crush you reached out to around the new moon or reconnecting with a longterm partner with some primal full moon sex. Thursday, August 11, isn't just the full moon; Venus, the goddess of love, enters your sign on this date. So, while astrologers sometimes advise taking it easy during full moons to avoid drama and fights, the stars align to bring you romantic attention and pleasure.

Beware of bickering within your friend group when the warrior planet Mars enters gossip-loving Gemini on Saturday, August 20.

The drama is unlikely to involve you, but don't be surprised if people try to suck you into their fights or feuds, no matter how petty. If you need an excuse to implement boundaries, just tell them that it's still Leo season and, therefore, still your birthday, so you don't have time to deal with drama. After all, the sun leaves your sign and enters practical Virgo on Monday, August 22, so you deserve to enjoy the final days of Leo season. And, by the time the sun enters Virgo, your focus will turn from summer parties and flings to catching up on work and rest. If you keep your boundaries firm, you can successfully avoid the friend drama, Leo. Uranus, the rebel of the zodiac, goes retrograde in Taurus on Wednesday, August 24. Uranus is retrograde for roughly half the year, so there's no need to sweat the planet's backward dance; you've survived many before. This year, your Uranus retrograde goal is to check-in with your professional goals.

Story continues page 35

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Unfortunately, in this economy, the stars can't promise money, but they can remind you that you deserve to be happy. So, while there's no shame in picking up jobs and gigs to make rent, during the next few months, ensure that you are also paying attention to your passions.

When the messenger planet Mercury enters romantic Libra on Thursday, August 25, it feels like the opposite of Mercury retrograde; communication flows like water. Couple this with the new moon in grounded Virgo on Saturday, August 27, and the end of August becomes the best time of the month to tackle any tough conversations you've been avoiding. Don't worry. This doesn't mean a breakup, but it does mean finally telling a friend that you have feelings for them.

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Alamodgordo News October 5, 1907

COTTAGES ARE IN DEMAND Habitable Houses Are Scarce Need of Family Hotel RENTAL AGENTS CAN’T SUPPLY HOUSES Alamogordo is, for the time being, the victim of her own rapid growth, inasmuch as the population exceeds the ability to house the people Alamogordo is right now in the condition of not having a single desirable vacant house for rent.

Every property owner’s rent list is filled, and persons have actually asked for the refusal of certain homes should they for any reason become vacant.

In line with the same subject it might be added that Alamogordo is very much in need of a strictly first-class family hotel, something beyond the ordinary boarding house, a place where the cuisine and the service are on par with a good hotel, and with about thirty to fifty good rooms, and the rates arranged in such a manner that monthly arrangement could be made on a fairly reasonable basis.

This same class of family hotel exists in every small city, and has been brought about by the same conditions which now confront Alamogordo.

When our Fall visitors, with homeseekers and healthseekers, and those looking for business investments begin to arrive, as they surely will within the next thirty days, what are we going to do with them?

How are we going to “explanation ourselves” and take care of them in a manner they desire and are will to pay for?

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Apple Blintz Ingredients ● 2 cups 2% cottage cheese ● 1 carton (8 ounces) mascarpone cheese ● 3 large egg yolks ● 2 tablespoons sugar ● 1 teaspoon rum or vanilla extract ● 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon batter: ● 1-1/2 cups sour cream ● 6 large eggs, room temperature ● 1/2 cup butter, softened ● 1/2 cup frozen apple juice concentrate, thawed ● 1-1/4 cups all-purpose flour 36

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● 1/4 cup sugar ● 2 teaspoons baking powder ● 1 teaspoon grated lemon zest Topping: ● 1/4 cup butter, cubed ● 3 medium apples, peeled and chopped ● 1 tablespoon lemon juice ● 3/4 cup packed brown sugar ● 1/4 teaspoon salt ● 1 teaspoon rum or vanilla extract Directions For filling, place first 6 ingredients in a food processor; process until smooth. Transfer to a small bowl.

Place batter ingredients in food processor; process until smooth.

Pour half of the batter into a greased 13x9-in. baking dish.

Drop tablespoons of filling over batter; cover with remaining batter. Refrigerate, several hours or overnight.

Preheat oven to 350°. Remove casserole from refrigerator while oven heats. Bake 45-50 minutes or until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean. Let stand 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a large skillet, melt butter over medium heat. Add apples and lemon juice. Cook and stir 5-7 minutes or until apples are tender. Add brown sugar and salt; cook 1 minute longer or until thickened. Stir in extract; cool slightly. Serve with casserole.

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L

izzy Hillyer is an up and coming author ready to take everyone on journeys of the literary nature.

Born in San Diego, California: Lizzy grew up fascinated by the worlds inside the books she read.

Every page was a new discovery and so she made it her goal to one day fascinate others with stories of her own.

Now she is majoring in Creative Writing at Southern New Hampshire University so that these dreams can become reality.

From children's books to novels and even her own online internet blog "Lizard Talk". No adventure will be too small and no journey too long.

Now a resident of New Mexico, Lizzy begins her published journey with "White Sands" and will be captivating readers over and over with many more future titles and other professional writing endeavors to come.

Step into Lizzy Hillyer's pages and be amazed by stories once 38

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again. A message from author Lizzy Hillyer to her fans: "There's something special that happens when you get lost in the pages of a great story, you find out about who you really want to be.

For me, I found out I always wanted to write stories of my own.

I hope there will be those who read my stories and find out about themselves in the pages. Those who will go on my adventures with me."

Lizzy’s book, White Sands, can be found for sale at the Tularosa Basin Historical Museum located on the corner of 10th and White Sands Blvd. Here in Alamogordo.

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Fried Apples INGREDIENTS ● 6 Granny Smith Apples peeled and sliced ( 10 slices per apple) ● ¼ Cup of Margarine ● ¼ Cup Brown Sugar ● ⅛ Teaspoon Salt ● ⅛ Teaspoon of Nutmeg ● 1 Teaspoon of Cinnamon ● 1 Teaspoon of Lemon Juice INSTRUCTIONS ● Melt margarine in a large skillet over medium/low heat

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● Place apple slices in skillet try and make it even. Pour lemon juice on top -- try and get the juice on as many apples as possible ● Sprinkle brown sugar + Salt onto the apples. ● Cover and cook for 15 minutes - turn over once ● Make sure the apples are tender ● Sprinkles Cinnamon and Nutmeg on Top of Apples ● Enjoy

Baked Apples Ingredients ● 6 medium apple ● 4 tablespoon melted butter ● 2 scoops vanilla ice cream ● 2 tablespoon honey Story continues page 45

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● 5 tablespoon brown sugar ● 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon ● 1 handful chopped walnuts ● 1/2 cup water ● Raisins optional Instructions Step 1 To prepare this delicious dessert, preheat the oven at 180- degree Celsius.

Step 2 Wash and peel the apples. Then, using a corer or a knife remove the stem and seeds of the apples. Core them enough so that they can be stuffed.

Step 3 In a bowl, mix together the brown sugar, butter, chopped walnuts, and ground cinnamon.

Step 4 Stuff the mixture in the apples using a spoon.

Step 5 Place the apples in a baking dish and fill the dish with water at the bottom.

Step 6 Transfer the baking dish to the oven and bake for about 30 minutes. Once done, remove and place in the serving plate.

Step 7 Drizzle them with honey and serve with vanilla ice cream.

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"A NEW LIFE" An original short story by Junior Thurman of Artesia, New Mexkco

A

sack of potatos, a skillet and some matches.

I had grabbed em on my way out the door. Yep, I could survive in the wilderness, living off the land and the sack of potatos. If my family didn't want me, I certainly wasn't hanging around. I could see the headlines in the newspapers now, "Young man, shamefully forsaken by parents chooses hard life in the wilderness."

Lookin back, on that sad day, I was about ten years old, we were living several miles outside of a little small village, "Loco Hills," nestled in the Sandhills in Southeastern New Mexico. A large family, there were five of us kids at that time, a poor family, scraping by during hard times.

Anyway, during a scheduled trip to town for groceries, twenty-five miles away, the usual, potatos, beans and flour, maybe some six for a dollar hamburgers for lunch, 46

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with a bag of potato chips, and a soda pop, a treat for five hungry kids, or should I say four?

Anyway, I ran outside to get in the car, and saw them headed down the road, loaded with my sisters and brothers, leaving me behind. A distressing sight for a pair of ten year old eyes. I chased them for a while, yelling, but my ten year old legs couldn't keep up.

The car disappeared over a small rise, headed to town.

Well, I had somehow knew it all along, or had at least suspected it.......guess it was time to face facts, I was an unwanted child, a poor penniless orphan left to wander the Sandhills alone.

That was when I, hurt and angry, grabbed the skillet, matches and bag of potatos, and headed up the hill behind the house to begin my new life alone in the wilderness. If they didn't want me, I certainly wasn't hanging around, I'd show em!

I might sneak back for a quilt, to cover myself on cold nights, but, after that it was farewell cruel world, for me. Even my faithful dog, old "Puggy" had rode away with the rest of the family, also forsaking me. So much for man's best friend.

Well, well, well, sittin on my lonely sandhill, preparing my campfire, wiping the tears away, I saw our green Ford come back over the hill headed back home to get me. Guess their conscience got the best of em. A little late, I thought. Yes, they found me up on the little hill above our house,

Story continues page 48

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they all had a good laugh, I failed to see the humor.......

"What in the world are you doing with that sack of potatos and that skillet?" Mom asked.......Hmmph, I didn't bother explaining it to em, but I did eye my parents, my sibs,and my old dog Pug, a little differently after that day. Watched em a little closer.

To this day, I still don't like to be late for anything, am always the first in the car. Being left behind can be a traumatic experience for a young kid. But, I've learned some things, as have many husbands, I've spent hours over my married lifetime, honking and waiting for my wife to get in the car. Thought about leavin her behind, ha.

Guess there's a silver lining in every cloud.

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THE ALAMOGORDO PUBLIC LIBRARY The Alamogordo News November 14, 1908

The Alamogordo Library was opened to the public shortly after the town was established, and the first subscriptions and books for its use, came from those interested in the development of the town.

Realizing the benefit a public library meant to Alamogordo, they subscribed a monthly sum from the El Paso & Northeastern R. R., as it was then called, also monthly subscriptions from the Alamogordo Lumber and Improvement Companies.

Since then the railroad and lumber interests have passed into other hands, and these monthly subscriptions have ceased.

At the present time the library depends entirely for its support upon the efforts of the Woman's Library Association, and the association, in turn, depends on the co-operation and patronage of the people of this town, when they give occasional entertainments to supply funds to meet the running expenses.

Library cards are issued costing one dollar and fifty cents per year, also cards by the month at a reduced price for transients, and these entitle their holders to as many books as they desire to read in the specified time.

Our books of reference, the magazines and newspapers are Story continues page 50

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free to the public, who are cordially invited to visit the library during the evenings.

The women of the association have planned to give an afternoon tea once during each month in our cheerful library quarters, on the second floor of the Municipal Building, where dainty refreshments will be served at a small cost.

If our town's people will become enough interested to attend these entertainments, it will help very materially, in enabling us to keep our library open to them and their children.

Over thirty volumes of new and approved fiction will be placed on our shelves this week, also the following new books for children : The Little Colonel's Knight Comes Riding, The Litte Colonel Maid of Honor, The Little Colonel's Hero, In the Reign of Terror, Redskin and Cowboy, The Lion of St. Mark, Uncle Remus, Helen's Babies, Three Brown Boys and Other Happy Children, Jo's Boys, Betty Wales, Freshman, Betty Wales Senior, Child's Garden of verses, The Song of Hiawatha, Flipwing the Spy, Bill Riggs, Jr., Tim and Tip, What Katy Did, Left Behind or Ten Newsboys, Baloolah Mayo, Honor Bright, Views Afoot or Europe Seen with a Knapsack, Boots and Saddles, Dandelion Cottage, Blue Grass and Rhododendron, Swiss Family Robinson, Love Songs of Childhood.

Books Revisited is a non-profit used bookstore. The last actual book store remaining in Alamogordo and is owned and 50

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operated by the Books Revistited Literacy Foundation (formaly known as the Alamgordo Public Library Foundation).

We Serve as a depository for used books and medial materials for re-sale. Enabling consumers the ability to buy their favorite reading materals/media at greatly reduced prices.

Over the past years we have granted thousands of dollars to the Alamogordo Public Library for programs and projects as well as other comunity literacy project thoughout Otero county.

We are staffed by volunteers who research, sort, price, shelve, and work as cashiers to support our program.

Some of our volunteers throughout the years have been published writers themselves.

Books Revisited gives back to the community donating time, magazines and books to Cope, the Alamgordo Senior Center, Alamogordo’s Hospital and more.

Books Revisited has special sales and our daily book specials.

We give thanks to all of our people and customers who help to keep Books Revisited going and growing.

See our ad on page 54 of this edition of Alamodoso Magazine.

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

The Alamogordo News.

November 30, 1907

NEW MEXICO LAW AGAINST SPITTING Chapter 88, Section 1: It shall be unlawful for any person or persons to spit of expectorate upon any of the public sidewalks, crosswalks, passes, byways, or path in any city, town or village, whether incorporated or unincorporated, or upon the floor or steps of any public building, store, church, opera house, office room, school house or any other building in which persons are in the habit of frequenting, assembling or congregating, or upon the floor or steps of any street car. railway passenger coach or other public conveyance in the Territory of New Mexico.

Any person convicted of violating this provision shall be fined not less than $1 nor more than $2, or by imprisonment in the county jail not less than ten nor more than fifty days, or by both fine and imprisonment at the option of the court .

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The Alamogordo News January 04, 1908 STOVE WOOD DELIVERED AT REASONABLE PRICE

J.H. Worden has opened a wood yard back of the post office and has excellent grade of stove wood which he will deliver at the following prices per load: cook stove size, $2; heating stove size, $1.75; for fire places, $1.50.

Those desiring to do their own sawing and chopping can buy a full cord for $4.50 delivered.

Call at wood pile back of post office or phone No. 3 and your orders will be promptly filled.

Editors Note: $4.50 in 1908 had the buying power of $144.93 in today's money.

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

T

he official birthday flower for August is the gladiolus flower. This beautiful bloom is also the 40th Anniversary flower since it symbolizes remembrance and infatuation?

Gladiolus flowers hold different meanings. Aside from remembrance and infatuation, gladiolus, in general, means strength and integrity because of the flower’s association with gladiators. Also, since gladiolus plays an essential role in traditional medicine, the flower has become a symbol of healing.

However, these meanings vary depending on the flower’s color.

Red gladiolus flowers represent romance, love, and affection, much like other famed red flowers. Pink gladiolus flowers are often associated with romance as well but to a less passionate extent. Yellow Gladiolus, on the other hand, means friendship, joy,

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and positivity.

Gladiolus in purple hues are representations of royalty, beauty, and fortune, which make these flowers ideal as gifts for friends, colleagues, and family members you admire. The August birth flowers also come in white shades, which often symbolize purity and innocence. Because of this, you often see them in wedding bouquets and arrangements.

August babies have another birthday flower – the poppies.

Poppies are popular herbaceous ornamental plants grown for their striking flowers.

The plant has a rich history in many cultures across the globe.

Back in the day, poppies were used by the Greeks and Romans as offerings to the dead.

Story continues next page

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

These beautiful flowers symbolize remembrance, especially in Western Culture. Hence, you often see them around Memorial Day in the US. Since poppies are available in many colors, they hold varying symbols and meanings.

The red ones, for example, are also a symbol of happiness, while yellow poppies mean prosperity.

White poppy flowers, as with other white blooms, symbolize consolation and sympathy. There are also purple poppies, which represent enchantment.

Native to Central America and Mexico, dahlias are a recognized ornamental from the family of sunflowers, chrysanthemums, and daisies. Not only are they the official flower of the City of Seattle, but, interestingly, they are also associated with many different meanings and symbolism. Dahlia flowers represent elegance, inner strength, dignity, and creativity.

They also symbolize diversity and commitment.

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The Alamogordo News March 31, 1910

SAND STORM The Worst Experienced for Several Years

Monday Alamogordo endured all the hardships and tortures of the worst sand storm that has visited here for twelve months.

Up to that time, the weather for March had been without parallel. For the third time in the history of the town, sand was blown in from the White Sands, a distance of 14 miles.

All around town, the pavements and roofs and verandas of the houses had a light coating of this sand, almost as white as snow.

The sand was carried over into the mountain district as far as Elk, which is 70 miles from the White Sands. In that section, the sand lay on the ground thick enough to make rabbit tracking easy.

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

El Paso Herald October 19, 1907 BUILDING FOR THE FUTURE AND LIVING UP TO IT

A

LAMOGORDO AND EL Paso

are to be brought nearer together in a business way by the establishment of a new daily local freight service.

Alamogordo is also to have the benefit of better freight service to Carrizozo and way stations.

Alamogordo jobbers are looking out for the trade of these towns.

The city is very prosperous and is becoming more attractive all the time. The thousands of shade trees along all the streets and in the parks are thri-ving and have grown large. The people are taking pride in having an attractive city, and pretty dooryards with neat fences are commmon.

Alamogordo has a “west end”, and some very pretty homes have

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been built up the slope where the mountain views are superb and the air is clear and bra-cing. The city is spreading rapidly, but the men who chose and planned the site had the future in view, for out beyond the houses stretch the double rows of fine trees and the irrigation ditches, Alamogordo has 10 years the start of El Paso in tree planting.

The town has an abundance of water for both irrigation and domestic purposes. The operations of the lumber company in the mountains are on a larger scale than ever.

The railroad is increasing its forces in Alamogordo headquarters. The town is becoming more important as a supply point. The adjacent lands are rapidly being occupied by homeseekers.

Alamogordo is a flourishing town, and its future is bright.

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

ALONG NEW MEXICO’S MOTHER ROAD THE RIO PUERCO BRIDGE heading west out of Albuquerque on Route 66, travelers can enjoy a scenic descent from Nine Mile Hill into the Rio Puerco Valley, where a Parker through truss bridge crosses the steeply eroded banks of the Rio Puerco River. The valley is the site of Laguna Pueblo, the home of Puebloans since the 1300s. Because the Rio Puerco is known for its violent flooding and severe erosion, the State Highway Department specifically chose a Parker through truss bridge design for the Rio Puerco Bridge to eliminate the need for a center pier and prevent washouts.

The Federal Government funded the bridge in 1933 as part of President Roosevelt’s 60

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effort to use emergency monies for highway construction. Completed within a year, the bridge opened the Laguna Cutoff to transcontinental traffic. In 1937, the alignment officially became U.S. Route 66.

The Rio Puerco Bridge has a 250 foot long span and is one of the longest single span steel truss bridges built in New Mexico.

The bridge consists of 10 panels measuring 25 feet in length, each with its top cord at a different angle, as is characteristic of Parker truss design bridges. The 25-foot wide deck is concrete with an asphalt surface and rests on steel stringers. This design was selected partially because it was commonly used during the late-1920s and 30s, but also because it was particularly suitable for this bridge, which needed to withstand a river capable of massive flooding that had washed away previous bridges along the Rio Puerco.

This bridge served motorists on Route 66 for many years, and when I-40 was completed, the Rio Puerco Bridge became part of a frontage road across the Rio Puerco.

The structure was listed in the National Register of Historic Places in 1997. . Though currently closed to car traffic, the old bridge is open for people to walk

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

Rochelle Williams is a familiar face to those in the arts community of Alamogordo, as she sits on the board of Otero Arts and has been involved in arts and other activities in the area since arriving to Alamogordo almost 2 decades ago.

Some folks have seen her photography at various venues such as the recent online showing at Otero Arts Winter show. Other's have read a few of her short stories and snippets that have been published in various periodicals dating back to 1995 such as the story, Intaglio which won second place in Southwest Writers Workshop literary short story contest in 1995. The judge was Elizabeth Gaffney of Paris Review. It was subsequently published in The Eldorado Sun fiction issue.

The following short stories by Rochelle Williams were published or accepted for publication in 2020 – 2022: ● Phoenix ● Trouble with the Painters ● That Day ● Shoeboxes Rochelle Williams has taken the next step in her literary journey, with the release of her first published works in a book format that being Acts of Love & Ruin, a collection of short stories and 62

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snippets by the author as her first paperback and hardback book release.

“I’ve been writing since I was about eighteen. I started with fragments, which still appeal to me as a form, and eventually moved to short stories. In the 1990s, I began a novel, “Bodies of Water.” As happens with a lot of writers, life got in the way, and I did not finish it.

I’ve reshaped some of the material of the novel into short stories, and now some flash fiction pieces. But much of it remains in the form of fragments and scenes. I call those fragmentary pieces snippets.”

Accidential Gift A Short Story by Rochelle Williams “The moment my life split irrevocably into “before” and “after” came on a calm, almost unbearably beautiful winter morning. The sun was out bright and strong, turning the previous night’s blizzard into a wonderland of iced houses and trees, kneedeep snow, shimmering ultramarine sea.

I had pulled on my boots and set off for a walk in the brisk air, feeling so alive, drinking in the Story continues page 65

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

UPTOWN RENTALS Why buy when you can rent?

Uptown Rentals has been proudly servicing Alamogordo and the surrounding areas since 1954.

We are American owned and provide services to Industrial, Contractors, and all Do-ItYourselfers.

HOMEOWNERS Our goal is complete customer service and satisfaction. There is no one more Dependable than us.

Examples : Lawn Mowers Forklifts Backhoes Power Trowels Tampers Scaffolding Scissor Lifts Air Compressors Welders

DO-IT-YOURSELFERS

Uptown Rentals also has the party supplies where you can rent everything you may need for any occasion and especially weddings.

We can cater to large or small parties.

575-437-6611 1007 Monroe Alamogordo

uptownrentalsalamo.com

CONTRACTORS

Mon-Fri 7:30 -5 | Sat 8-2 Closed Sundays

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uptownrentalsalamo.com

brilliant light, the gorgeous contrast of sea and snow.

I had arrived the night before, just ahead of the big storm, at my sister-in-law’s house perched on a tiny spit of land on the coast of Maine. It was two days after Christmas. I was stopping in for a visit on my way from New Mexico, where I live, to Vermont, where I was enrolled in a lowresidency graduate program.

Embarking on my third semester, I couldn’t have been more excited.

It seemed to me those great vistas of possibility were opening up before me, and this walk in the sun and snow was a celebration of impending change. The change that was actually in store for me, I never could have imagined, nor voluntarily welcomed into my life.

The road hadn’t been cleared, but some intrepid souls had already been out on it; there were wheel tracks in the snow and that was where I walked, heading downhill toward the tall pines on the next curve of land jutting out into the sea. I remember looking up, marveling at the lovely robin’segg blue of the sky, and then, without understanding how, I was flat on the icy pavement. My feet had gone out from under me and the back of my head had slammed the pavement so hard I couldn’t comprehend at first what had happened. Time turned sticky; everything slowed down. I lay there, unable to move. I had no thoughts. There was only a sort of slow-motion sensing of being flat on my back on the ground, seeing the tree branches overhead, smelling the snow. Then very slowly, as if my mind was moving through something thick, it began Story continues page 66

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

to roam around my body: Am I bleeding? Is anything broken? Can

move my legs? These were not thoughts, but a kind of primitive awareness scanning my body.

Finally, there was a thought, accompanied by a deep sense of foreboding, and it went something like this: You have really hurt yourself. And indeed, I had.

In the instant after that thought formed, a black curtain started to descend over my eyes. I knew I had to get up, that I needed help, and fast. Looking back, it seems as if some force outside of me lifted me up and propelled me back up the hill, the hundred yards or so to my sister-in-law Susan’s door. As soon as I was upright, a battle began against intense, burning nausea and an equally intense desire to simply lie down right where I was and go to sleep.

I had spent much of my working life as a nurse; the symptoms of closed head injury were familiar to me. It’s hard to describe the feeling I had of being split in two—one part of my brain trying to control the symptoms that another part of my brain was cataloguing with increasing panic.

I stepped through Susan’s door and said something like: I fell and hit my head. I need help. She queried me, saw that I was in trouble and dialed 911. Bile burned hot in my throat and I was taking short, fast sips of air to keep it down. The paramedics arrived quickly and began to “talk me down”—something I also knew from my experience as a nurse—head injury patients can be combative and wildly irrational. I was trying to cooperate but was 66

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seized by intense panic at the thought of lying down flat on the backboard they had pushed into the cramped living room. I knew with unshakeable certainty that I would die if they put me on that backboard. One of them moved in beside me, spoke in a soothing voice, assured me repeatedly that they would let me sit up if I needed to. I knew he was lying, and that he had to; his job was to get me safely onto the backboard.

I knew that once I surrendered and let them enclose me in what turned out to be full-body immobilization, there was no getting out. Fear blazed on top of the burning panic. I remember asking what they would do if I started vomiting; he said they would turn me on my side, suction my airway and make sure I was breathing; they would take good care of me—he must have said it a dozen times while they gently pried my fingers from the arms of the chair where I sat rigid and unable to move, placed the brace around my neck and maneuvered me onto the backboard, strapping me in place. His voice was kind, but nothing could soothe the panic that made me resist everything they were trying to do for me. In the ambulance, a woman put an oxygen cannula in my nose and started an IV. I remember squeezing her hand so hard, the thought that I might be injuring her flashed through my mind, but I could not loosen my grip. She leaned close and talked to me all the way to the hospital, telling me we were going to go around a curve now, it would be this many more minutes, I was doing fine, remember to breathe. I thought, I have fallen among angels.

Story continues page 70

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

and still the panic roared in me every second, leaped and gnawed and burned like flame at the base of my skull, in my throat and chest, and I felt trapped in a cage that might never open.

In the emergency room I was given a powerful anti-nausea drug, wheeled from X-ray to CT. The lights above me blared like interrogation instruments. There was no escaping them, or the noise—the crash and clang of equipment, the scrape of chairs on the floor, the voices around me— all seemed amplified beyond endurance. The backboard dug into my flesh. Tears ran down the sides of my face, into my ears. I remember bellowing, “My head hurts!” A nurse spoke to me in that gentle, reasonable way they all had, told me they needed to make sure there was no bleeding in my brain before they could give me anything for pain. Susan sat by me, her face tense with worry.

After many hours, many tests, all the information was assembled.

No bones were broken. No blood was seeping. There was no visible swelling in my brain. Prescriptions were written for pain and nausea medications; instructions were given about returning for worsening symptoms. And with that I was released from the imprisonment of the backboard and brace, into a life that was simply unimaginable to me hours before.

Traumatic brain injury is a malady that confounds medicine. The day before the accident, I was running my own company, managing a million-dollar annual budget and sixteen employees; the day after the accident, I could not walk or 70

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talk normally, I stuttered badly, slurred words, my right foot dragged. I could not take care of basic tasks of daily life independently, could not stay awake for more than a few hours.

How could something you couldn’t see on an X-ray or CT scan cause so much damage? On a deep, almost inexpressible level, I felt unsouled, as if my soul had left my body and what was left was an empty shell, an automaton.

I felt emptied of anything I recognized as self. Who are we when we are not “ourselves”?

What creates that sense of “I”, of recognition? These are questions I had ample opportunity to ponder in the weeks and months that followed.

Medicine, I discovered, has little to offer for the physical symptoms of brain injury: hypersensitivity to light and sound, debilitating fatigue and weakness, persistent headache, problems with attention, memory and language processing, and, often, severe posttraumatic stress symptoms. There are painkillers and antidepressants, but they all have risks and sideeffects, and they only marginally reduce the suffering these symptoms bring. And Western medicine has virtually nothing in its toolbox to address the profound shifts in self-concept that can accompany such an injury—the loss of a sense of self, the damage to the delicate mechanism that knits together memory, experience and imagination to create meaning and identity. I found myself turning more and more to alternative medicine, and ultimately to depth psychology and to a deepening spiritual Story continues page 72

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

“The moment my life split irrevocably into “before” and “after” came on a calm, almost unbearably beautiful winter morning. The sun was out bright and strong, turning the previous night’s blizzard into a wonderland of iced houses and trees, kneedeep snow, shimmering ultramarine sea. I had pulled on my boots and set off for a walk in the brisk air, feeling so alive, drinking in the brilliant light, the gorgeous contrast of sea and snow.

I had arrived the night before, just ahead of the big storm, at my sister-in-law’s house perched on a tiny spit of land on the coast of Maine. It was two days after Christmas. I was stopping in for a visit on my way from New Mexico, where I live, to Vermont, where I was enrolled in a lowresidency graduate program.

Embarking on my third semester, I couldn’t have been more excited.

It seemed to me those great vistas of possibility were opening up before me, and this walk in the sun and snow was a celebration of impending change. The change that was actually in store for me, I never could have imagined, nor voluntarily welcomed into my life.

The road hadn’t been cleared, but some intrepid souls had already been out on it; there were wheel tracks in the snow and that was where I walked, heading downhill toward the tall pines on the next curve of land jutting out into the sea. I remember looking up, marveling at the lovely robin’segg blue of the sky, and then, without understanding how, I was flat on the icy pavement. My feet had gone out from under me and the back of my head had slammed 72

Read past issues on line @ issuu.com/alamodosomagazine

the pavement so hard I couldn’t comprehend at first what had happened. Time turned sticky; everything slowed down. I lay there, unable to move. I had no thoughts. There was only a sort of slow-motion sensing of being flat on my back on the ground, seeing the tree branches overhead, smelling the snow. Then very slowly, as if my mind was moving through something thick, it began to roam around my body: Am I bleeding? Is anything broken? Can I move my legs? These were not thoughts, but a kind of primitive awareness scanning my body.

Finally, there was a thought, accompanied by a deep sense of foreboding, and it went something like this: You have really hurt yourself. And indeed, I had.

In the instant after that thought formed, a black curtain started to descend over my eyes. I knew I had to get up, that I needed help, and fast. Looking back, it seems as if some force outside of me lifted me up and propelled me back up the hill, the hundred yards or so to my sister-in-law Susan’s door. As soon as I was upright, a battle began against intense, burning nausea and an equally intense desire to simply lie down right where I was and go to sleep.

I had spent much of my working life as a nurse; the symptoms of closed head injury were familiar to me. It’s hard to describe the feeling I had of being split in two—one part of my brain trying to control the symptoms that another part of my brain was cataloguing with increasing panic.

I stepped through Susan’s door and said something like: I fell and hit my head. I need help. She Story continues page 78

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

queried me, saw that I was in trouble and dialed 911. Bile burned hot in my throat and I was taking short, fast sips of air to keep it down. The paramedics arrived quickly and began to “talk me down”—something I also knew from my experience as a nurse—head injury patients can be combative and wildly irrational. I was trying to cooperate but was seized by intense panic at the thought of lying down flat on the backboard they had pushed into the cramped living room. I knew with unshakeable certainty that I would die if they put me on that backboard. One of them moved in beside me, spoke in a soothing voice, assured me repeatedly that they would let me sit up if I needed to. I knew he was lying, and that he had to; his job was to get me safely onto the backboard.

I knew that once I surrendered and let them enclose me in what turned out to be full-body immobilization, there was no getting out. Fear blazed on top of the burning panic. I remember asking what they would do if I started vomiting; he said they would turn me on my side, suction my airway and make sure I was breathing; they would take good care of me—he must have said it a dozen times while they gently pried my fingers from the arms of the chair where I sat rigid and unable to move, placed the brace around my neck and maneuvered me onto the backboard, strapping me in place. His voice was kind, but nothing could soothe the panic that made me resist everything they were trying to do for me. In the ambulance, a woman put an oxygen cannula in my nose and started an IV. I remember squeezing her hand so hard, the 78

Read past issues on line @ issuu.com/alamodosomagazine

thought that I might be injuring her flashed through my mind, but I could not loosen my grip. She leaned close and talked to me all the way to the hospital, telling me we were going to go around a curve now, it would be this many more minutes, I was doing fine, remember to breathe. I thought, I have fallen among angels. And still the panic roared in me every second, leaped and gnawed and burned like flame at the base of my skull, in my throat and chest, and I felt trapped in a cage that might never open.

In the emergency room I was given a powerful anti-nausea drug, wheeled from X-ray to CT. The lights above me blared like interrogation instruments. There was no escaping them, or the noise—the crash and clang of equipment, the scrape of chairs on the floor, the voices around me— all seemed amplified beyond endurance. The backboard dug into my flesh. Tears ran down the sides of my face, into my ears. I remember bellowing, “My head hurts!” A nurse spoke to me in that gentle, reasonable way they all had, told me they needed to make sure there was no bleeding in my brain before they could give me anything for pain. Susan sat by me, her face tense with worry.

After many hours, many tests, all the information was assembled.

No bones were broken. No blood was seeping. There was no visible swelling in my brain. Prescriptions were written for pain and nausea medications; instructions were given about returning for worsening symptoms. And with that I was released from the Story continues page 80

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

imprisonment of the backboard and brace, into a life that was simply unimaginable to me hours before.

Traumatic brain injury is a malady that confounds medicine. The day before the accident, I was running my own company, managing a million-dollar annual budget and sixteen employees; the day after the accident, I could not walk or talk normally, I stuttered badly, slurred words, my right foot dragged. I could not take care of basic tasks of daily life independently, could not stay awake for more than a few hours.

How could something you couldn’t see on an X-ray or CT scan cause so much damage? On a deep, almost inexpressible level, I felt unsouled, as if my soul had left my body and what was left was an empty shell, an automaton.

I felt emptied of anything I recognized as self. Who are we when we are not “ourselves”?

What creates that sense of “I”, of recognition? These are questions I had ample opportunity to ponder in the weeks and months that followed.

Medicine, I discovered, has little to offer for the physical symptoms of brain injury: hypersensitivity to light and sound, debilitating fatigue and weakness, persistent headache, problems with attention, memory and language processing, and, often, severe posttraumatic stress symptoms. There are painkillers and antidepressants, but they all have risks and sideeffects, and they only marginally reduce the suffering these symptoms bring. And Western medicine has virtually nothing in its toolbox to address the profound shifts in self-concept that can 80

Read past issues on line @ issuu.com/alamodosomagazine

accompany such an injury—the loss of a sense of self, the damage to the delicate mechanism that knits together memory, experience and imagination to create meaning and identity. I found myself turning more and more to alternative medicine, and ultimately to depth psychology and to a deepening spiritual practice in my search for healing.

For many months, I was unable to drive, shop for groceries, read, or work. I spent most of my time in a dark room, with a towel wrapped tightly around my head. Pressure seemed to quiet the constant ringing and buzzing in my brain and lessen the pain. The flood of adrenalin that had allowed me to stay conscious and get help, turned out to be my worst enemy in recovery. Like a stuck throttle, it wouldn’t shut off. Panic erupted randomly, and also as a fatigue marker—a signal I had done too much, stayed up too long; but it never failed to accompany the act of lying down, especially on my back; my heart would race and pound like it was going to leap out of my chest.

The previous spring, I had learned a simple meditation technique to help me deal with the stresses of my business and graduate program: sit quietly and follow the breath. It was useful, but I didn’t settle into a regular practice. After the accident, I found myself clinging to it the way a drowning person clings to a life-preserver. It was the only way I could calm the heart-racing, the pounding pressure in my head, the panic and pain that had, in an instant, become my world.

Story continues page 83

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This simple technique not only calmed me; over time it began to work a subtle change in me. I found myself slowly letting go of the idea that my worth was based on what I accomplished in the world. I suddenly couldn’t do anything. Did that mean I was worthless? Or worth less than I had been in my former condition?

I began working with a Jungian therapist who helped me explore these questions and to dismantle what was revealed in our work to be a harshly self-critical belief system and build a more loving and compassionate one.

Almost two years have passed since the great divide. I’m not entirely well yet. I still stutter and slur when I’m tired. My right foot still drags. I long to hike, ride a bicycle, do many things I used to take for granted. For a long time, I kept wondering when I would “get back to normal.” I don’t remember exactly when I realized that would never happen. The person I was before the accident is gone, unrecoverable. In her place is someone I don’t know very well yet.

I no longer manage my company.

It took some time, but that’s okay with me now. The part of my brain that generates ideas is alive and well, and I’ve found new ways to contribute to the business.

I look forward to one day returning to school. Understanding speech, formulating and articulating a response—ordinary conversation, in other words—is taxing, but written language has become fluent, even joyful. A loss, and a gift in its place. There are other gifts, poking up like flowers among the ruins as I inhabit this unexpected life. Calm 82

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acceptance of the past. Freedom from fear of the future. But the sweetest one is the gift of the timeless present moment, which I used to hurry right past, and now choose to live in as much as I can.“

Traumatic Brain Injury

Each year, an estimated 2.5 million people in the U.S. sustain a traumatic brain injury (TBI) but the total incidence is unknown. The impact of a brain injury is often life-changing for survivors, families and caregivers.

Traumatic brain injury is considered an Acquired Brain Injury. It occurs when a blow or jolt to the head results in damage to the brain. TBIs range in severity from mild to severe. It is important to note that no two brains are the same, no two injuries alike.

Therefore, each individual’s brain injury is completely unique. This presents a distinct challenge – unlike any other organ in the body − for both diagnosing specific deficits from the injury, and determining the exact rehabilitation needed.

Mild TBI occurs when a person has a brief change in mental status or loss of consciousness. The most common type of Story continues page 84

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rain injury, a concussion, is classified as a mild traumatic brain injury. Mild TBIs often go undiagnosed, and consequently the person suffering the injury loses out on the benefits of rehabilitation and medical care.

Even mild TBIs can have lifelong effects which can be mitigated with proper care.

Severe TBIs may involve loss of consciousness for hours or weeks and can result in permanent disability.

A TBI may result in mild, moderate, or severe changes in one or more abilities, such as thinking, speech, physical functions, and social behavior. The consequences of TBI can be lifelong for some people, while others may be able to resume activities they enjoyed before the injury occurred. If an injury is severe enough, even from a concussion, the person may never return to functioning as they did prior to injury.

A partial list of cognitive changes (or changes in thinking) that can occur due to a brain injury include the following. ● Shortened attention span ● Memory problems particularly short term memory ● Problem-solving difficulties and trouble following directions ● Poor judgment ● Partial or complete loss of reading and writing skills ● Language problems, including communication deficits and loss of vocabulary ● Inability to understand abstract concepts ● Difficulty learning new things ● Difficulty with social skills 84

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● Inability to empathize with others ● Tendency to be more self-centered ● Inability to control emotions, emotional liability ● Increases in irritability and frustration ● Inappropriate and/or aggressive behavior, easily angered ● Extreme mood swings ● Depression Your loved one’s prognosis will depend on many factors, including the severity of the injury, the type of injury, and what parts of the brain have been affected. Prompt diagnosis and treatment will help the rehabilitation process. A neuropsychological evaluation is useful for determining how the brain injury has affected areas of cognitive function and provides important guidance in determining necessary rehabilitation. Ask your medical team about a neuropsychological evaluation and other testing that can be helpful, including tests for vision, hearing and balance.

Recovery is typically lengthy — from months to years — because the brain heals slowly and differently than any other organ in the body.

The Brain Injury Alliance of New Mexico assists in creating a better future for those living with brain injury.

Headquartered in Albuquerque, they provide information,resources, education, and events such as our biannual Brain Injury Awareness Conference, support groups, a resource group, and other community events and activities.

505-292-7414 or 888-292-7415 Email: info@braininjurynm.org

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G

rowing old has its disadvantages, unfortunately, and sadly, my hearing problem prevents me from hearing and participating in my wife's and daughters gossip sessions. A regular "hen" party.

Yep, I'll admit it, my hearing, "ain't what it used to be. They're having a grand old time talking, (gossiping), and laughing, while I'm doing my best to ignore them and try to keep up with what's going on with Matt Dillon, Festus, and Miss Kitty on "Gunsmoke."

Yes, you've gotta have your priorities. I do miss a few important things occasionally, but you have to admit, it takes a lot of weeding thru, and an attentive ear to sort thru the gossip, and separate the important info.

Fortunately, my wife knows when I've gone into my ignoring mode, and tries to highlight the important gossip for my benefit.

"Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"Your sister headed home from Carlsbad, New Mexico, to Artesia, and ended up in El Paso.

The State police had to call her son to come get her. She was 86

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confused and had no idea where she was."

"Doggone!”

Occasionally, my wife forgets, and neglects passing on important events to me.

"Guess I'd better take Luthers roto-tiller back, he'll be worried about it."

"What", my wife says, "Luther got thrown in jail three weeks ago, according to Mabel, he was sentenced to six months for DUI, I thought I told you."

"Damn."

I attribute my hearing problem to "industrial hearing loss," usually referred to by women as "selective hearing." I was in denial for several years, angrily accusing my wife and others of "muttering incoherently", while I nodded, pretending I understood.

Finally I made the decision to purchase the hearing aids. To my surprise, I can now hear much better, not as well as I used to, but 90

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better. I faithfully put them in every morning, first thing, and take them out at bedtime each night.

I'll confess, I do have to revert to the selective hearing program on my hearing aids at times, as a method of filtering out unwanted messages, sometimes referred to as "Wife :spam."

I have several aged friends, won't mention any names, who also wear hearing aids. However, they don't use them all the time, and will turn the volume down or off, and end up saying the word "huh" a lot. It's irritating at times, trying to carry on a conversation with them. Seems like they're just trying to ignore you....and, some of them aren't even married......

My wife has a friend, Nancy, who lives in Oklahoma City, who calls about once a month, and they spend about two hours, "catching up." Many, many, many things are discussed, none of which I can catch while I'm in my selective hearing mode.

A couple of hours later and finally caught up, my wife's hand almost paralyzed from clenching the phone, they finish their long conversation.

Helping her pry her hand and fingers from around the phone, I say, "Well, what did Nancy have to say?"

My wife says, "aw, nothing much, just called to see how we're doing." ?????? How can you talk that long and not have anything to say.?

Called for jury duty several years ago, I remember the judge choosing jurors, he said, "does anyone here have any reason why 92

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they can't serve as a juror?" One old man raised his hand, the judge said, "yes sir, what's your problem? The old man said, "I can't hear very well, your honor."

The judge said, "well, you're excused from jury duty. Did you hear that?"

The old man said, "just barely, your honor, just barely."

One aged friend in particular, pointing to his ear, said he bought a pair of state of the art hearing aids for $4,000. Said they were great. I asked him, "what kind is it"?, he said "it's 11:30"

Story courtesy of Junior Turman of Artesia, NM

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Authentic Mexican tacos in their modern form developed sometime in the 19th century in the booming Mexican silver mines. The first true type of taco was the “taco de minero,” or “miner’s taco.”

And though we can’t say for sure, experts believe that “taco” referred initially to gunpowder wrapped in a thin piece of paper, used to blow up holes in the rock face and excavate the ore.

It’s easy to see how a tasty tortilla wrap may have resembled them, earning the taco’s modern moniker. A small taco, taquito, looks exactly like a small stick of dynamite and might burn as badly as one for those not well acquainted with chile spice!

From there, tacos spread through the working-class of Mexico, with taquerias popping up to offer modestly priced meals. Migrant women brought the taco to Mexico City to sell, and the city quickly transformed into the country’s biggest taco hub.

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In 1908, the city of Cuautla, Morelos birthed tacos made with sausage, chorizo, green sauce and pork rinds, mole Verde, and many more modern favorites.

Eventually, these tacos made their way to the capital, Cuernavaca.

Tacos al pastor are of particular note not because they’re delicious, which they are, but because they mark the first time an outside culture affected this Mexican-born dish. During the 1930s and 1960s, there was a massive Lebanese migration to Mexico.

As Mexicans tried the foods of this foreign culture, they began to recreate some of their favorite foreign dishes. Mexicans made al pastor as a shawarma or gyro recreation with a necessary protein and marination adjustment due to ingredient availability.

Mexican migrants initially brought tacos to America when they came to find work on railroad construction in the southern states.

In the early 1900s, the Mexican taco carts lined Los Angeles, with the women running them called chili queens. At the time, most Americans considered tacos a lower-class street food.

The hard taco shell seems to be an American invention, likely created due to their longer shelf life than their softer counterparts. Though the hard taco shell was around for as many as ten years before Taco Bell first opened, this new Mexican-American fast-food restaurant saw its popularity explode.

Story courtesy of https://unocasa.com

Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

DISCOVER TULAROSA

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Cindy Revell’s vividly coloured oil paintings are created in a sunny studio where a shrimpy, personable mutt and ancient cat keep her company and provide inspiration. Revell and her talented husband who can build or fix anything live in the countryside outside of Sherwood Park, Alberta. While art is a major focus in Revell’s life chickens, gardening and camping keep her happily engaged with nature.

Reading has been a part of her daily life since she was a child and is the way she ends every day. “A bubble bath or camping is when I best love to indulge myself in books. I can read in the tub or in front of a campfire for an amazing number of hours.”

Cindy’s chickens and flower and vegetable gardens are a reminder of growing up on a farm in Carrot River, Saskatchewan where she was a dreamer with time on her hands. Along with her sister Story continues page 104

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nd brother who nicknamed her Bird she built forts, tree houses and swam in the nearby river.

Cindy spent long hours reading, drawing, playing her guitar and singing. And how she loved her farm cats, one of her first words being ‘Kee’ for kitty.

Her artistic talents were noted by her teachers and family, in particular her creative mother who sewed, gardened and kept a pretty home and her talented aunt who had worked for a time as a sign painter. Besides the typical grade school and high school art classes her one exposure to an art show was a horticultural show in a nearby town where Cindy won a blue ribbon for her charcoal drawing of a cat. In spite of the lack of artistic culture in her home town a life involving art was in the making.

After a few detours Cindy took took Environmental Graphic Design at Grant MacEwan University. It was a magical and inspiring time as she learned about art history, design and illustration.

A love of the old masters was born and she knew that art was a world in which she belonged. After college Cindy worked as a graphic designer and illustrator during which time she developed a whimsical and simple style using scratchboard. It would strongly influence her future work.

Inspiration comes from simple things, spotted horses in a pasture, the fuchsia of cosmos, the flash of the red winged black birds that live near her pond. The naivete of folk art, the patterns of Friedensreich Hundertwasser and the simplicity of Henri Rousseau and their unrealistic way of 104

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depicting their worlds made Revell realize that she could be as fanciful as she wished. Over the years Cindy's evolving work has been in numerous shows but there are some that have stood out for her because of high caliber of artists that she was showing with, gripping subject matter and personal accomplishment. Some special events are: The Best of Realism, Winstanley-Roark Fine Art, Cape Cod, MA, Contemporary Realism, Trudy Labell Fine Arts, Naples, Fl, Success, Federation of Canadian Artists, Vancouver, BC, The New Reality, Smith Kramer Travelling Museum Exhibition, USA, Tell Us A Story, Segil Fine Art, Old Town Monrovia, CA, Project Heroes, Travelling Exhibition, Canada, and Be Your Own Bird: Solo show, Daffodil Gallery, Edmonton, AB. Cindy and her work have been featured in numerous newspaper articles and published in many magazines.

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico

DISCOVER LINCOLN COUNTY

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Newly Authenticated Picture of Billy the Kid For the first couple of years, none of us realized that there was a name on this tintype because as you can see, when it is in the sleeve, in the photo album, that corner does not show.

We rarely if ever took it out so looking at it for that reason was not done. Once we started to do the high resolution photography on the tintypes using various filters, Macro lenses, lighting, etc we then realized that there was "something" in the bottom left corner that should not be there.

Many weeks later and after having two professional photographers working on taking the pictures, were we able to determine that indeed it was a name. Then we spent weeks taking hundreds of photos of this particular corner in all angles, lighting, etc to determine that the name was BILLY. This was determined by not only myself, Story continues page 118

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Slow Cooker Lentil and Ham Soup

Ingredients ●

1 cup dried lentils

●

1 cup chopped celery

●

1 cup chopped carrots

●

1 cup chopped onion

●

2 cloves garlic, minced

●

1 ½ cups diced cooked ham

●

½ teaspoon dried basil

●

¼ teaspoon dried thyme

●

½ teaspoon dried oregano

●

1 bay leaf

●

¼ teaspoon black pepper

●

32 ounces chicken broth

●

1 cup water

●

8 teaspoons tomato sauce

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DIRECTIONS ●

In a 3 1/2 quart or larger slow cooker combine the lentils, celery, carrots, onion, garlic and ham.

● Season with basil, thyme, oregano, the bay leaf and pepper. ● Stir in the chicken broth, water and tomato sauce. ● Cover and cook on Low for 11 hours. ● Discard the bay leaf before serving.

Immune Boost Tea This formula is used at the onset of a cold to relieve swollen lymph nodes, a sore throat, aching body and fever with chills.

It can be taken as maintenance for your overall immune system health. Fenugreek helps lower blood glucose and cholesterol levels.

It is also being studied for its cardiovascular benefits.

Story continues page 121

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but by James Brake who then used photoshop to help with his determination, and by two professional photographers (each working independent of each other), and eventually by the team at Stanford that I was just with.

When looking directly at the tintype, it is very hard to see and only by holding it at a particular angle with normal to bright lighting, can this be looked at and made to make sense.

Too much light or even LED lighting did not help in the matter but created more of a glare, probably due to the "varnish" used to seal the tintype. The name looks as if it is scratched or etched into the metal and had to be done prior to the varnish being applied. Between the varnish and the decades in between production and now, it has a smooth feel to it, as you cannot feel any scratches with your fingernail, as hard as we tried.

The rest of the tintype does not have anything like this on the front or back. It stands alone on the bottom of the tintype. There are scratches and other "damage" to it but in no way do the scratches or damage cause letters to be formed elsewhere.

We then went forward and created negative pictures of the name to see how they showed up and again the letters showed up just as we had figured they would. The letters are in the left to right fashion as is it was written on after the picture was produced, not in the sense of a negative where the letters would have been right to left.

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This area of the tintype was scanned using the Spectra Analysis X-ray equipment at SLAC at Stanford University in Menlo Park, Ca. While I do not have the final analysis yet, this area was concentrated on and scanned into their system for the sole purpose of being able to determine what name was written/etched onto the tintype.

Preliminary findings showed the name just as we determined and 3 out of 4 people present were able to read the name. Keep in mind only 1 that was present knew who the subject was supposed to be. There were 5 distinct letters that showed their presence.

The B showed clearly, the i showed as the line with the dot above it, one of the L was clear while the second was not as clear but you could tell that it mimicked the first L, and the Y was clear.

The B was on an angle bottom left to upper right, and each letter thereafter followed the same angle to a certain degree. The L's were somewhat fancy on the bottom line with a little curve, while the Y was on an angle with no fanciness to it. We did not see the words "the Kid" after it, as this was taken before Billy became "the Kid" and if it had showed up, we would have known that it was added later.

We will be taking the tintypes to the University of Princeton for more scanning and testing to see if we can get matching results and collaboration. They will be using techniques similar to what we use for finding the depth of the Ocean floor but on a very small almost Story continues next page

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atomic level, to find the height differences between the letters and the actual tintype it is on. Any small etching below the tintype or an ink above the tintype will show a difference in height, as small as it may be.

This will then show up on a chart and be mapped out thus creating an image of the letters and in the long run, the name BILLY. Once I receive the final analysis it will include not only the written results but pictures from the various scans that were done.

Story courtesy of Billy the Kid Facebook Group www.facebook.com/groups/73756 7303040536 120

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Continued from page 111

Astragalus is an immunesystem enhancer shown to increase the strength of T-cells, the white blood cells of the body that attack invaders that cause disease in the body. Elder flower, used for its anti-oxidant activity, also helps boost the immune system.

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The Folic Acid found in Papaya helps in the conversion of a substance known as ‘homocysteine,’ which if left unchecked, damages blood vessels and can lead to heart attacks or strokes.

An excellent source of three powerful Vitamins C, A and E, Papaya helps prevent the oxidation of cholesterol. Rosehips, with the highest Vitamin C content of all the herbs builds the immune system.

Olive Leaf can be used for minor feverish conditions, nervous tension, and most commonly, to lower blood pressure.

Hibiscus is a blood purifier and is very high in Vitamin C. It most notably helps reduce blood pressure & controls cholesterol levels.

Pau D’Arco is an effective blood purifier and blood builder. It has the ability to increase the hemoglobin and red corpuscles in the blood. It gives the body greater vitality by increasing resistance to disease.

HERBAL INFUSION: Bring water to a boil and turn off heat.

Add 1 tsp. herb per 1 cup of water.

Let sit covered for 10 minutes before straining. Always shake condensation from the lid covering back into the tea. Add honey or lemon to taste. Enjoy hot or iced.

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The Regulators Last Stand

By Jason Young of the Billy the Kid's Historical Coalition As recalled by George Coe

The Regulators had been through hell and back. Mostly all of these men just wanted some stability in their lives and were forced to fight against tyranny and mob law to achieve it.

Mcsween and his men were run out of Lincoln and had been hiding in several different ranches and hideouts in the area. They were unable to attend to their daily lives, jobs and chores at their homes. Many bad men on Dolans payroll were out looking for the Regulators. Setting them up in ambushes and disrupting peaceful citizens' lives while searching.

One ruthless group tore apart San Patricio looking for them, robbing and assaulting its citizens. It was 122

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getting out of hand. At George Coes, his home was robbed and burned down while he was absent.

Imagine if he was home alone that day. Although he was no coward, his willingness to fight proves it.

George Coe George Coe recalls: These new disturbances drove us to desperation. We could see no hope of a peaceful settlement and decided there was but one thing for us to do. That was to organize our forces and go to Lincoln and fight it out to the finish!"

Next was the selection of a leader...Martin Chavez, he neither was satisfied with the conditions as they existed, so we took our problems to him and asked him to aid us in solving it.

We requested him to accept the leadership of our band and promised to abide by his decisions and follow his plans. He readily consented and began to draw a plan of attack."

The boys arrived in Lincoln at Story continues next page

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dark. It was very dark as the moon was behind clouds.The men quickly spread out through town undetected. About 15 of the Regulators including Mcsween went inside the Mcsween home.

Martin also stationed some of the men at Juan Patrons, the Ellis house on the east end of town.

Martin Chavez, Fernando Herrera, George Coe and a couple others went to the Montano store.

Montano Store At the end of the Montano stores perimeter there was a saloon. On that next day, after sunrise the battle began.

July 15th was noted as a very windy day making a cloudy atmosphere of dust throughout Lincoln. The Regulators were in positions on top and inside of Mcsween home, the Montano store, Juan patrons and the Ellis store.

But not more than a couple hundred yards away Sheriff George Peppin and Jimmy Dolan sat at the Wortley Hotel plotting as they knew they were outnumbered and outgunned by almost double.

James Dolan was using crutches and healing a broken leg at the time.

They wrote a note and sent it by courier to Col. Dudley at Fort 124

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Stanton requesting a howitzer or Cannon.

George Coe remembers the scene; "At the Montana store, I was on guard when I saw a couple of fellows approaching the saloon.

Get your Gun I whispered to Chavez, this is as good a time as any to start the fight!

We grabbed our guns and started for the door. Two or three native women who were in the room became hysterical at the sight of our weapons and clutching at us, begging to not shoot. The men in the saloon got their drinks and started across the street.

The Torreon

The boys in the Torreon had also spied on them and opened fire as did our men from down at the Mcsween home.

Thus surprised, the two men turned and ran back into the saloon. The incident caused panic Story continues page 126

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and everyone in town began to get busy.

The whole town was aroused and bullets were coming from every quarter but since all of us were undercover there were no immediate casualties. After the first flurry of this attack had subsided, the day dragged by with only an occasional exchange of shots to hold us at our attention."

Under the cover of nightfall, many men changed their positions. Men in the Torreon and Coe moved over to the Mcsween house, but not inside, but into a building out

back of it. It was Coe, Henry Brown and another man, a Mr. Smith.

The Dolan men were slowly and quietly creeping into positions around town as well, including into the Torreon and on the hills out in the back of Mcsweens to the south. The next morning the 16th gunshots began firing wildly.

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The Mcsweens took notice that Peppins men were occupying the Torreon. At one point the brave Susan Mcsween went over to George Peppin and demanded the men leave the Torreon, as it was part of the property that was purchased by Mcsween. Shots rang out throughout the day, back and forth until dark.

George Peppin

The next morning a courier from Fort Stanton was returning a message back to Peppin. As the messenger entered Lincoln he was allegedly fired upon and he retreated back to Fort Stanton.

At the Montano store, Fernando Herrera, who was Doc Scurlock and Bowdre's father in law, noticed the men on the hillside south of town.

Herrera was standing in the back door of the Montana house, and from a distance of over 700 hundred yards, fired at Charlie Crawford with a Sharps Rifle.

Story continues page 126

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The hit cut Crawford down, tearing through him sideways from hip to hip breaking his spinal cord. He lay, with his back broken, behind a rock on the mountainside in the hot sun all day. Crawford was later brought down to the street. Saturnino Baca carried Crawford a drink of water as he passed away.

Jim French

When Mrs. Mcsween saw that the Bacas were aiding the Dolan men,she asked for the Bacas to vacate their home as it too, was owned by the Mcsweens. The Regulators held down and fought hard, never losing an inch.

Sheriff Peppin, ordered Deputy Marion Turner to try and serve Mcsween his arrest warrant. Over at Mcsweens,Turner appeared close to the house and yelled out that he had warrants for Mcsween and some of the others in the house and asked if they would Story continues page 134 128

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Alamodoso Magazine, The Magazine for Otero and Lincoln County New Mexico Continuation from page 128

surrender. Mcsween replied that he had warrants for them and Turner asked to see them, he yelled, "where are they?" Just then Jim French interrupted Mcsween and replied to Turner, "Our warrants are in our guns you cocksucking son of a bitch!"

Turner retreated.

Susan McSween

Mcsween and his men seemed to have had the upper hand the entire time... all day that day into the night they held strong.

In the later part of the next morning, the 19th the Army from Fort Stanton pulled into town. The courier who was fired at, reported it to Dudley, allegedly prompting their return. The Mcsween boys caught a glimpse of the heavy artillery they brought along.

Coe; "We had the town completely bottled up. There was no possible chance, unaided of their getting the advantage. They 134

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realized that fact and called on the military for help.

They were so completely whipped that it was their only hope. They succeeded in getting a messenger through to the Fort. At about 10 or 11 that morning Colonel Dudley and his command of soldiers arrived. This command consisted of one company of infantry, one of Calvary, and one of artillery. The colonel also brought a 12 pound Cannon and a Gatling gun. It was claimed that the latter could shoot 72 times a minute. This was sufficient to take down a town of ten or fifteen thousand inhabitants.

Colonel Dudley

Col. Dudley and company came into town, passing the Mcsween's house and stopped just before the Montano store at about where the Lincoln visitors center now stands.

After several warnings to vacate the premises and a cannon pointed at them, the men in the Montano store abandoned their post. Led by Martin Chavez the men walked out of the store calmly with blankets covering their heads to hide their identities. It's possible Story continues page 137

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that Martin may have been a deputy Sheriff somewhere in NM at the time. They walked further down East away from Mcsweens and entered the Ellis house and posted up.

Coe; "George Peppin began lining the soldiers up in front of the Mcsween home. It has never been made clear why the soldiers who had come to protect the women and children were stationed before the Mcsween house.

Peppin demanded the rest of our party to surrender. Mcsween stepped outside, and, when informed of the proposed arrest, Mcsween exclaimed: "Peppin, you can't get away with this! I hold in my hand a message from President Hayes saying that the military has no authority to take any part here unless orders are received through him."

Gatling Gun Peppin replied that he did not care and in response to that the boys in the Mcsween home declined to surrender. Peppin announced to the men in the Mcsween home that the Army's gatling gun would be sitting aimed at Mcsweens."I'm planting my Gatling gun right here! At the first shot from the house I'm going to blow up the whole work, do you get that ?"

Peppin shouted.

With the Army there the Dolanites became more aggressive. they became more brave and bold. A black flag was hung by the Dolan men symbolizing "no quarter will be given." As seen before at the Alamo. While the boys in the Mcsween home were distracted by the soldiers out front, some of Peppins men went around the back Story continues next page

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and dumped coal oil on the house and lit it up!

As the soldiers left to set up their camp, the boys noticed the fire raging. But it was too late, it couldn't be stopped.

To make things worse, the soldiers began setting up camp in the middle of town across from the vacated Montano store and had cut off the rest of the men down at the Ellis house. Because the soldiers were in the line of fire from the Ellis house to Peppin and Dolans

James Dolan

men, it rendered the men at the Ellis house ineffective and instead of repositioning they abandoned their missions, forcing the boys at the Mcsween house to fight it out without them. This knocked them down from 50 strong to about 20.

The boy's big advantage had just been exhausted. When pulling out of the Ellis store riding North the boys did fire off a few shots down at Peppins men before riding out.

The Mcsween home was made of thick adobe and the home itself was designed in the shape of a "U". The fire burned from room to 138

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room starting at one end of the U, very slowly working around. As the Mcsween home was slowly being destroyed. The defendants then began throwing out burnable objects and moving furniture, including Mrs. Mcsweens piano from one room to the next, to slow the damage. Mrs. Mcsween was on the offensive, pleading and cursing Dudley outside.

Lawrence Murphy

Coe; Susan Mcsween was about the only scout in the ranks who had the nerve to Brave the hail of lead. The bullets fanned her skirts occasionally as she came and went to and from the house. Why she was not an added victim of the slaughter is another of the miracles of that awful tragedy.

The piano was moved from place to place in an effort to save it from the flames but it burned up at last with the rest of the furniture.

There's a story that Mrs. Mcsween played that piano and sang during Story continues page 141

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this terrible ordeal. That is wholly absurd. she was in the house only at long intervals and she spent the greater part of the day pleading with Colonel Dudley in an effort to save her husband's life.

However, the Kid and "O" Follaird did play the piano... occasionally between battles, with their high spirits, they tried to dispel the gloom settling around the survivors. It was almost uncanny to hear, at long intervals, the weird notes peeling forth from

John Tunstall the music box. Added to this were the surprised whisperings of a prayer constantly being uttered by Mr. McSween as he passed from room to room with his Bible in his hand, his faith never forsaken him to the last.

Still outside the Mcsween home, about 30 steps away sheltered in Story continues page 150

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Discover Carrizozo

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2021 New Mexico Magazine Photo Contest Winners Displayed at Photozozo

Honorable Mention THE VORTEX Gerald Guss

Exclusive Exhibition of the

3rd Place Landscapes FROSTED PINES Tim Baca

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Honorable Mention A BRIEF MOMENT IN TIME Jim Stein

Honorable Mention - Cell Phone SYMMETRY Heidi Kelly 144

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HOPE Carol Nagen

SECRET STUDIO Rick Geary

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COLONY Sherry Hayne

LURID SKID Douglas Stanton 146

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DISCOVER THE SACRAMENTOS

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an adobe shed/warehouse for keeping grains were Brown, Smith and George Coe. The room was at the time filled with grain and on the outside grain was piled up to about 6 feet high. It's said the boys would often sleep and loaf around it often. Inside there were holes poured in the sides for ventilation to keep the grains dry. The large adobe shed was still an insight of the battle and the boys could see out through the ventilators. No one knew they were there and they waited patiently in silence, as they knew action was needed, as the Mcsween home burned down to its last room on the east wing.

Coe; "There were three women in the Mcsween home, Mrs. Mcsween, her sister-in-law, Mrs. Shields, and Miss Gates, a school teacher. They were almost hysterical because they knew that we were making our last stand, that this was to be the end. When the women left the burning building, they came to the warehouse where we were hiding.

At the same time a fellow by the name of Jack Long comes running with a can of oil with intent on setting the warehouse on fire. The women intercepted him and pleaded with him not to burn the building. I had been watching, and was holding my gun cocked on him, but dared not to fire, as Mrs. Mcsween was standing between us. I prayed that she would move just one step. Just as she stepped aside, he bent over to pick up the oil can. As he stooped, I fired and missed. There was an outhouse nearby, and into this he darted for protection.

All day, when we had nothing else 150

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Looking for a unique venue for your wedding.

Call the Sacramentos Mountains Museum for information on how you can get married in our early 1900’s original country church building.

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to do, we made that our Target and shot it full of holes. The result was that they were forced to crawl down into the pit rather than meet certain death. (Yuk!) he afterwards remarked that it was the most gruesome experience of his life, but beat dying at that.

Mrs. Mcsween and Miss Gates returned once more to the door of the warehouse. It was suicide to open that door, so I spoke to them through it, and their grief and despair were heartbreaking.

"Wouldn't it be better to surrender, George? Mrs. Mcsween asked .

Perhaps if you three would give up, they would be appeased and spare all of our lives."

We men knew better, and I told her: "I'd do anything to help you Mrs. Mcsween, you know that. I would gladly surrender if it would do any real good. But it wont.

They'd kill us like rats! "No they won't cry Miss Gates or if they do they'll have to kill me first." They left crying, and I swallowed a lump in my throat, where I had spent many happy hours with them on the Brewer ranch that summer. "Cheer up, we will see you later," I called, and wondered, as I said it, what the end would be?? Would I see them again?"

Bullets rained down on McSween's burning inferno all day that next day. As well as returned lead from the men inside.

Obviously the threats made by Peppin to blow the house down with the Gatling gun was just a bluff. The boys inside McSween's were miraculously able to keep the fire burning slow enough that it became nightfall.

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Coe; "At last, the moment had arrived to move. Their only chance was to burn with the building or make a break for liberty. There was no time for talk, but action. Billy the Kid turned to Mcsween and urged him to join the fight. "Come on Governor, it's time to lay down your Bible. A gun will talk faster than your religion right now."

But McSween remained firm, holding to his faith and convictions as the final crisis was at hand. Billy the Kid had held on

faithful to his trust, inspiring his comrades with good cheer to the last moment. They must now break out and meet the firing squad or perish in flames. The men were leaving the building between the volleys, by rushing out just after a round of shots was fired, several escaped safely, four or five dropped before rain of enemy bullets.

Story continues next page

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"The Murphy faction supposed that only a few of the defenders remained in the house, and suddenly charged the place. The Kid shot Bob Beckwith down as he entered the door, and, faithful to the last, called to McSween to follow him. With a six-shooter in each hand, firing as he went, he

strode over a lifeless body as McSween followed him."

Billy ran like lightning. He was a target for every gun on scene. The hot lead balls tore through his clothes and hat. But fate carried him off to safety as he leaped a 4 foot wall and disappeared into the darkness... up the banks or across the Bonito. After killing Beckwith, on his way out, it was claimed that Billy wounded a few other "bad guys" as well.

Coe; "As Billy ran, the screams of his pursuers could be heard loud, we've got him at last! There goes the kid! Again the kid had cheated death. Not so much for Mcsween.

He offered no resistance, but 154

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stepped out from his doorway to face the bloodthirsty gang, stopped and said calmly "gentleman, I am McSween!"

As the words left his lips he fell shattered by numerous bullets, with his Bible still clinched in his hand. The Murphy faction was triumphant over McSweens death and bottles were passed around, men shook hands and congratulated one another and cheered excitedly.

One man cried "look boys I'll be damned if he's not still holding on to that Bible of his." "Where's his gun?" asked another. At the time the kid made his escape Brown, Smith and I decided it would be wiser for us to make a break to safety then to remain and face the entire Army. An 8-foot wall stood between us and escaped, but luck was with us.

A row of old barrels stood beside the wall, we used these as step ladders. As we went over the top, the bullets zoomed around us from every direction, but once on the other side we were swallowed up in the darkness of the night."

"We had no sleep for two days and two nights and we were exhausted.

So we crept cautiously down to the Ellis house in hope of meeting some of our own party. To our disappointment When we arrived there the family was terrified, for the other faction had threatened to kill anyone seen entering the Ellis house. Uncle Ike Ellis said, "George for God's sake get out they will kill us all if they find you here.'' Well folks, I answered that this is heaven in here compared to what I've been through, but it's Story continues page 156

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alright I'm hungry and tired, but I'll go! Sam Corbett who was sitting near snatched his hat from his head and handed it to me "alright George here's a hat for you but hurry or they'll get us sure as hell."On the way out, Ike's wife Nancy handed me some food."

Yginio Salazar, a teenager who ran out of the burning home at Mcsweens was cut down at the door and left for dead, as he played dead.

When it was Salazars turn to run out from Mcsweens, 4 shots penetrated his body. He dropped on the ground dying for more than 4 hours in agony and played dead as the Murphy/Dolan boys celebrated.

During the night he was kicked a few times to see if he was really dead. Eventually he dragged himself, fainting along the way, as he crawled to the home where his sister-in-law was staying and she dragged him in. It was 6 long months until Salazar would be able to get out of bed.

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Alexander Mcsweens death was known as the big killing and the most important parts of the Lincoln County war were over.

The Dolan men drank all night and looted Tunstall's store and tormented the folks at the Ellis store. The bad guys prevailed.

Mrs. McSween fought long and hard for justice and in the end received none.

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"STOP AND SMELL THE ROSES" Junior Thurman

Every summer, we'd leave Artesia, New Mexico, headed out on vacation to Fort Worth, Texas, mom, dad, five of us kids, and one dog (two more kids would make an appearance in our family later), a trip to visit my grandparents, about a nine hour trip at normal speeds. Everything in between here and there was just a blur, except the one gas station we stopped at to fuel up and use the facilities.

Why the big hurry? You would have had to live back in those days to understand, no one really knows for sure, not even our dads, but as I recall, getting to your destination, preferably in record time was a feat most men were obligated to perform at their best.

Possibly, a tribute to a fast and dependable vehicle and expert driving abilities. Stops were made only in extreme emergencies, somebody darn near had to be dying.

Making good time on the road did Story continues next page

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give you bragging rights.

Bragging time started as soon as you arrived at your destination.

The men would brew a pot of coffee, and the first question was, "Well, how long did it take you to get here?" I made the same trip back in 49, in an old 39 packard, in seven and a half hours, and had to fix two flats along the way."

Why is it men hate to stop, embarrassingly, I have to admit, I have actually peed in a coke bottle cause dad wouldn't stop and lose the chance of making better time to Fort Worth, and beating uncle 158

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Orans' time in his 39 Packard.

Arriving, drinking his cup of coffee, seems dad had his speech rehearsed. .......

“Well, we were driving into quite a headwind, ran into a hailstorm, had to stop and fix two flats, one in the driving rain, we gassed up in Weatherford, and made it on into Ft Worth in seven hours and fifteen minutes, if I remember correctly, but, who's counting?

Where'd all the kids go?"

"I think they're all in the bathroom."

Wouldn't you know it, I guess I inherited those "hurry up" tendencies. Genetics. My wife is just the opposite, always trying to delay my traveling time.

Annoying.......

"It's bathroom time."

"Let's stop and get some fruit."

"Stop up here and let's get something to drink."

Story continues next page

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Visit Our Out-of-this-World Gift Shop

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"Oh look, an Indian Trading post."

I'd have to say my speed travel time on highways between destinations were right up there with the best, but began a down hill slide right after I married and a few kids came along.

A few years ago, my wife,Jill, I and my daughter Juli, with her first baby Lola, headed to Sedona, Arizona to take an art class from a well known TV artist. We headed north from Artesia, arrived in Albuquerque, and headed west for Arizona on I-40, along the old "Route 66" trail thru Navajo country. Turns out my daughter Juli had inherited her mothers travel habits, and did her best to aid her mother slowing me down.

Never take a cross country trip with two women in the car.

They're uncontrollable. Among the many, many stops we made, we stopped in Winslow, Arizona, and I could have gotten my picture taken "standing on a corner in Winslow Arizona with a girl in a flat-bed Ford," but, "my lord" I didn't have time to wait. We were already running behind.

Headed back home, the chance of making better time now only a fairy tale, we stopped at the "Grand Canyon," several miles off the main trail, the "Petrified Forest" , and the "Painted Desert," all several miles off our route home. I almost suffered a nervous breakdown, but, at that point, I had given upAging, I think I'm getting a little better at "stopping and smelling the roses along the way," but there are still times when genetic forces intervene, taking over, trying to make better time.......gotta get home, house may be on fire........

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A

unique part of Cloudcroft's history was the Baby Sanatorium, which operated during the summer months from 1911-1934. More than 500 babies were treated for dehydration from nearby desert communities of El Paso, Alamogordo, & Las Cruces.

After Dr. Stevenson, whose young son died of dehydration while enroute to a cooler climate in CA, attended the meetings & asked for the rebuilding of the Lodge, as well as a Baby Sanatorium.

The Railroad Board of Directors agreed to rebuilding the Lodge & also donated land near the Lodge for the construction of a Baby Sanatorium.

The Baby Sanatorium opened on June 14, 1911. Donations totaling $10,428 enabled charity cases to be set up & sick babies born to rich & poor alike were treated.

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An original crib is on display at the Sacramento Mountains Historical Museum in Cloudcroft.

Visit the Museum for interesting facts & much, much more history related to Cloudcroft.

Story found in the El Paso Herald February 26, 1916 Page 2

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The Lodge at Cloudcroft

The announcement of the construction of a new lodge was published in the Alamogordo News on February 17th, 1910. It read; “Cloudcroft, the premier Resort of the Great Southwest will be rebuilt. That is now beyond controversy.

Mr. Simmons, General Manager of the El Paso and Southwestern 166

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route, which owns Cloudcroft, said some time since to the El Paso papers that Cloudcroft would be restored as a resort, but he was not then in a position to say when the actual construction work would be commenced.

The great Resort Hotel will be ready for occupancy by the opening of the season of 1911.

The new structure will be one of the finest hotels in the Southwest, modern and architecture, furnishings and fittings, with no convenience or comfort lacking.

Cloudcroft as a resort will be

given the widest range of publicity possible. One of the handsomest booklets ever issued from a modern press will be used in the advertising and the railroad will do all that brains and money can accomplish to make it one of the most widely known and popular resorts in the Southwest.”

The new Lodge at Cloudcroft opened on June 1, 1911. The Story continues next page

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railroad commissioned a Chicago architectural firm design the new Lodge. The central building was designed with a tower element that was flanked by two lower sections of different size but equal mass.

This part of the building was designed to contain the two-story lobby, a two story dining room, and kitchen facilities. The offices of the resident manager were located off of the mezzanine.

On the third floor was a large dormitory which could accommodate 75-80 men.

Connected to the main building was a two story wing which contained fifty guest rooms, twelve private baths, and four

guest baths. A basement was constructed only under the central portion of the building. The original exterior was of a grey stucco, which was described as “fireproof.” The three projecting bay windows gave light to the interior and spectacular views for the dining room guests. Although the main building, which contained the public spaces, was physically attached to the guest wing, which included the private areas, they were entirely separate visually. The roof, as well as fenestration and architectural elements, were entirely different on each section of the building; however, the original third-floor dormers and cupolas on the main building and the wing were identical.

During the following forty years the history of the Lodge was fairly uneventful. The depression years reduced the number of resort and vacationing Americans at 168

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Cloudcroft as well as across the United States as a whole.

However, the Lodge offered gambling and alcohol as a way to help pay the bills. Several times the Lodge’s owners would get into trouble for selling alcohol during prohibition.

From 1932 to 1935 Conrad Hilton leased the Lodge from the railroad and operated both the hotel and dining room for three seasons.

In 1933 the manager at the lodge was a man named William Tooley.

One of his employees was a gentleman known merely as Dixie.

The gambling manager, Dave Lawson, would slip Dixie money to gamble with in hopes of increasing the profits of the gambling business that ran out of the Lodge’s basement. Gambling was a significant source of income for the Lodge for most of this decade.

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History of Mayhill In the early 1850’s the U.S. government was having problems trying to maintain peace between the Mescalero Apaches and the white settlers who had recently begun homesteading in the area.

The Indians would leave their reservation to steal horses, cattle, and sheep in order to survive. The settlers, fearing the Indians, asked the military for protection.

Capt. Henry W. Stanton, for whom Fort Stanton was named, and a party of soldiers were dispatched from San Patricio to search for Apaches. On January 18th, 1855, the Indians suprised the party as they traveled up the Penasco River. Stanton and 170

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several others were killed in the vicinity of present-day Mayhill.

This historical incident is recorded on a marker in the village.

The village of Mayhill is situated on the eastern slopes of the Sacramento Mountains at an elevation of 6,500feet. It is located at the forks of the Rio Penasco and James Canyon, about 17 miles east of Cloudcroft on US Highway 82, at its junction with US Highway 130 to Weed.

Albert Coe, who had come to new Mexico in 1867 and whose brother Frank and cousin George were involved with Billy the Kid in the Lincoln County Wars, arrived in the Rio Penasco area in 1873 and settled on what is now the Jim Mahill ranch, about 1/2 mile east of the present village.

John Mahill bought the land covering the present village site from John James, for whom James Canyon was named, for $300 in December of 1882 and built an adobe house Editor’s Note $300 in 1882 had the buying Power of $8,715 in 2022 The first post office, called Upper Penasco, was established in 1885.

It was located in the Coe residence and Molly Coe was the first postmaster. In 1904 after several moves, the post office was permanently located and the village was officially named Mayhill, rather than Mahill, apparently through an error by the Postal Department.

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Do you remember when a cardboard box would let you become anything you wanted to be? A pilot, a train engineer or even a race car driver?

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