Gallup Journey January 2012 by Gallup Journey

g a l l u p

Jo u r ne y The Free Community Magazine

Arts Edition

January 2012

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Thoughts

ast summer, I began biking with some friends every Tuesday evening. The members of the group and place varied from week to week, but on the calendar, Tuesdays at 5:30 were mine to exercise, to socialize, and to be outside. It was great for about three months.

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Then school started, schedules changed, the days grew shorter, the weather got colder and Tuesdays nights became like any other night. My biking time was absorbed into the dynamic nature of life and I can’t seem to find it again. Sometimes new habits – especially the good ones – are hard to form and keep. It takes practice to hone new skills and to get used to the time it takes out of life’s activity to do so. I thought that when I quit piano lessons as a kid I was done with practicing. It’s weird to think about practicing new disciplines as an adult, but the truth is, I practice things all the time that I never mean to. I practice staying up late; I practice eating dessert after dinner each night; I practice sitting at home on Tuesday nights. This year, I’m going to practice something new. It won’t be a resolution, necessarily. But hopefully it will be something better, something remarkable to take the place of something that was too easy and forgettable. H.H.

Gallup Journey Magazine 505.722.3399 202 east hill avenue gallup, nm 87301 www.gallupjourney.com gallupjourney@yahoo.com

Other Stuff

Editors Nate & Heather Haveman Chuck & Jenny Van Drunen Illustrator Andy Stravers

4 Thoughts 35 IZZIT?! 35 News from Care 66 39 ArtsCrawl Schedule 40 El Morro Theatre Schedule 43 Sudoku 44 Best of 2011 46 G-Town 48 Community Calendar 50 People Reading Journey 54 This Is My Job

Thanks To:

God Our Advertisers Our Writers Shopping Locally buy.build.believe

January 2012: Volume 9, Issue 1

All Rights Reserved. No articles, photos, illustrations, advertisements, or design elements may be used without expressed written permission from the publisher, Gallup Journey Inc. This publication is distributed with the understanding that the information presented is from many sources, for which there can be no warranty or responsibility by the publisher as to accuracy, originality, or completeness. It is distributed with the understanding that the publisher is not engaged in making product endorsements, recommending health care or treatments, providing instruction, or recommending that any reader participate in any activity or behavior described in the publication. The opinions of the contributors to this publication belong to them and do not reflect the opinions of the editors or publishers.

Contributors

Kimberly Becenti Fallon Blackbull Amy Clark Emma Cohnheim Michael Daly Claire Seelinger Devey Chris Easley James Frazier Jeannette Gartner John Hoover Penny Hyde Nicole Marie John Larry Larason Caroline Lisko Jon Marshall Marcus Martza Kitty Mason Mikki Metteba Padma Gerald Pinto RedWulf Dancing Bare Anna Redsand Deer Roberts Frandora Josephine Rogers Michelle Sanchez Andy Stravers TheFly Char Toole Sam Tsosie Seth Weidenaar Standing Feather Taylor Wenning Duane Yazzie Jeremy Yazzie

January Cover by Sam Tsosie This Painting by Chris Easley, Journey Headquarters

GALLUP

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2012 arts edition

e had an amazing response to this year’s Arts Edition. Please take some time to read and enjoy all the poems, short stories and photos! I’m sure you’ll be happy you took the time to read what the Gallup area has contributed. Thanks for another great year as we start a new one!

We did our best to fit as much content as we could into the following pages, but alas, we could not fit everything. If you don’t see your photo, poem or short story . . . we’re sorry that we couldn’t get it in this time!

TOHATCHI MOUNTAIN by Gerald Pinto believe • gallup

short story Shiprock Harvest Time by Anna Redsand Dusk gathers quickly at the end of an early autumn day, and my family drives down along the San Juan River where the alfalfa fields are thick and fragrant, where giant cottonwoods shade the homes. Here beside the river are the half-sweet smells of a place where water cuts through the high desert. Under the cottonwoods a fire burns low and red. Indian corn roasts on a rack. We sit around the fire and listen to an old man tell his story. He is so thin, his brown skin stretched so tight over his cheek bones that he seems nearly gone from here. He has no more teeth, so his mouth falls in on itself. Even I can hear his toothless lisp. He talks on, and I watch the embers and listen to his words, which sound to me like music because I don’t understand them. Still, I listen carefully to pick out a word here and there. I listen, too, to the wind now and then rattle the cottonwood leaves, to the crickets and cicadas in the alfalfa, to the river, soft and farther away, to the popping of a kernel of corn now and then. After a while, people pass the corn around. It is the kind of corn white people like to hang beside their doors in autumn because it has many colors – red, yellow, white, blue-black, purple. They don’t usually think of eating it. We eat some, and the flavor is nutty, the kernels chewy because there is so much substance to them. The skins of the kernels have been browned by the fire. There is a subtle sweetness to them, not like the high sweetness of the yellow corn that comes from Nebraska or Iowa. The old man drones on, and a sleepy child mutters. Otherwise, it is quiet. I rest up against my father’s arm. Later someone passes around an enamel bowl filled with small juicy peaches, very fuzzy and very sweet. The old man stops talking because even without his teeth he can suck a peach. He smacks his lips, and his eyes light up like the coals. The night air is cool, and the cottonwoods sigh. The alfalfa smells so sweet, I want to run into the fields and brush my face in it. Still later we pack up the bushel of peaches we came to buy. My mother will can them. Then she will tell me, “Go down to the cellar and get me a jar of peaches for supper.” When I see the jar of golden globes on the dusty shelf beside the pearly pears and purple plums, the crimson tomatoes and dark green beans from my father’s garden, I will remember how the peaches tasted under the cottonwoods. I will remember everything.

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poem

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Southwestern Haiku Winter By Deer Roberts Above

Karla Benefield, CRS Broker 204 E. Aztec Ave. Gallup • 505-863-4417 Karla.Benefield@Century21.com

Iced vault bends to buss mesa foreheads embracing corn maiden moisture. ************* North Hollow wind sound wraps music around winter ice blessing ground water. ************* East Elk cross big cat prints perpendicular symbol, sacred mark in snow. ************** South Above shifting drifts Gamagrass pokes sparkled white. Tickles in sunlight. ************** West Forlorn coyote song eases through celestial snows stitching all to One. ************** Below Wintered bones collect Within their ancient hollows Moisture for living.

believe • gallup

short story Untitled By Emma Cohnheim After much trial and error, I eventually got my license, and it was a day to be had. For three days, I was driving myself all over the place! I went to school, got food with my friends after school, took my brothers where they had to go . . . For three days. What happened on this third day, you wonder? Let me tell you. It was early on a Saturday morning, and I, with my newfound four-wheeled freedom, drove myself to meet some friends. I carelessly parked in a then-desolate lot, ran inside, talked to the people I knew, blah blah blah, you know, same ol’ whatever. It wasn’t until I walked outside again, hours later, that I realized my crappy parking job was doing me no favors now that the parking lot had filled up. Hm. This may take some maneuvering . . . Was I worried? Well, no . . . I passed my driver’s test! Obviously, that makes me a driving pro, so I swung that baby into reverse and whipped the van backwards out of the parking spot. *crunch* . . . Oh, no . . . I slam on the brakes and stare out of the passenger’s window in dismay. As I see that I’ve run the front right side of my van into a giant concrete block, my heart sinks down into my stomach and my stomach starts to churn – churning my heart along with my breakfast and yesterday’s dinner – and by the time I realize I’ve been blocking the parking lanes for a while because I’m so shocked, I’m crying, and I shake my head and start speeding home. Oh, no. What’s Mom gonna say?? She’s gonna be so mad . . . and my sister! Dang it, we were sharing this car! Now we’re both gonna be transportation-less, and . . . ah, jeez, my step-dad is gonna be so angry! I’ll never drive again! My insurance is gonna go up and I’m gonna be trading in my van for a bike in no time at all! What was I thinking?! Ugh . . . Mom never taught me how to park! That’s the problem! She should have taught me how to park better! What were the DMV people thinking, letting me pass?? Wait . . . they didn’t pass me! I failed the first time! And then it dawned on me . . . I’m a failure!! I get home and run to the phone. I call Mother and tell her the truth. When she asks, “How bad is the damage?” I scramble to the window and look at the damage for the first time, aaand . . . It’s bad. Where’d my headlight go?? I mean, it’s not even just a cracked headlight . . . the whole thing is missing! There’s a giant hole in the front side of my van. What the hay . . . ? How did that happen?? And more pressing and concerning, how did I not notice until now?! “Uh . . . hmm . . . my headlight seems to have disappeared . . .” This set Mom off. She sped home and made us drive back to where I crunched the van and pick up my headlight off the pavement, leaving all dignity in its place, in the ultimate Walk of Shame. Silent tears are falling as my former headlight and I climb into the passenger’s seat of my mother’s car. “Are you mad?” I ask Mother, waiting for her to tell me to hand over my license, now and for all. Mom shakes her head, tells me, “Life’s a learning process,” and I’ve never been so happy that I was given a forgiving mother like mine.

10 gallupjourney@yahoo.com

Free Women’s Self-Defense Seminar January 28th, 10am-12pm Gallup Catholic School Cafeteria

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For more information, contact Reginald Mitchell

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Registration begins at 9:45

Empowerment through self-protection and awareness. Ages 14 and above.

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short story How to Avoid Divorce, or Murder By Jeannette Gartner I thought my marriage might be in trouble when, early one morning, hubby rolled over in bed, looked at me with one squinty, bloodshot eye and said, “Oh, hi. Are you still here?” It started after our wedding when we went in to sign the marriage certificate. He said he was just kidding, but when I told him he could not come to the reception, he gave the marriage 6 months. It’s incomprehensible that 50 years later we are still together through thick and thin, for the most common reason – the kids. Neither one of us wanted them. They’re now grown, but we still stay together, because they keep moving back home. There was additional pressure from family who do not believe in divorce. They believe in fights, murder, and wars – but not divorce. It was embarrassing to have my father laugh gleefully when hubby asked to marry me. Hubby said, “Your father was so happy! I think he is really looking forward to having me for a son-inlaw.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him my father was just looking forward to getting me off his hands. Certainly he was worried – I was almost 22 and not yet married. As any newlywed soon learns, you have to adjust to one another’s idiosyncrasies. How could he possibly have known that playing T.V. roulette with the channel changer would drive me crazy? And eating with one arm resting on the table would make me tear my hair out? And he gets me interested in a T.V. program, then promptly falls asleep. And . . . But in a creative marriage, adjustments can be made. For example, putting a few drops of syrup on the table next to his plate every day resulted in not only a sticky sleeve, but also deviously broke the habit, without nagging, of resting his arm on the table. I soon found I was married to a Class A sleeper who can fall asleep anytime, anywhere. When he gets into bed, he’s asleep before his head hits the pillow. He has slept through earthquakes, great parties, and sitting on the toilet. If I rouse him to investigate things that go squeak in the night, he leaps out of bed, bleary eyed, and begins throwing his clothes on, with absolutely no idea of why he is up. If there were any burglars around, they’d run at the sight of this man stumbling around with a crazed look in his unfocused, bloodshot eyes. A real test of a marriage is to build a house. Suddenly you find yourselves in daily conflict over such things as how many electrical outlets should be in a room, and whether the boys’ rooms should have padded walls or bars on the windows (to get them used to a possible future). The frustration of scheduling has caused the demise of many happy marriages. The carpet layer cannot come until the painter has painted, and the painter cannot paint until the dry wall person has come, and the dry wall person cannot come until the carpenter has finished, and the carpenter doesn’t show up for a week. The one thing a couple can do to keep the marriage intact through all this – take out all your frustrations on the architect and the contractor! The foundation of your house may be shaky, but your marriage will be solid. Keeping excitement in a marriage after a lot of years isn’t easy to do, but it is possible. For example, you can turn the T.V. off some night and talk to each other, usually about what the kids or grandkids have done now. Or on a cold winter night, turn his side of the electric blanket to low. Best of all, send your mate a flower for absolutely no reason; wondering what he forgot will drive him crazy. Probably the biggest deterrent to divorce and remarriage is that I would not want to have to break in another husband. I admit it: I have no sense of adventure. Besides, I don’t have this one completely figured out yet. There are things I’m still working on in this marriage and I want to see how they turn out. The most important thing in a marriage is not sex, as you might think, but having a good sense of humor. Where would I ever find another husband with the ability to laugh at himself and the nerve to laugh at me?

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poem

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I Hold Promise By Duane Yazzie I hold promise

Promise of a blessed existence biRthed in dreams Of many things positive and good awakened by Memory kIndled by the mysterious network of dendrites whiSpered with the rise of sun to the listEning ear of hope

I hold promise and promise holds me

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A Young Man’s Musings By Larry Larason

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Someday perhaps we’ll name this game we play – The game without a net? – And build a set of stable rules so fools can play, And figure out a way someone can win the set, Or such. But not just yet. For now let’s play and just enjoy ourselves Until it comes too easily; Then we’ll make up rules for certainty And play the game for real.

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believe • gallup 13

short story Christmas Eve Mastications By RedWulf Dancing Bare The restaurant was packed. The maitre d’ sat him right beside the ever whapping, swinging French doors service entrance. He stifled his feelings of belittlement. The Zuppa Di Pesce came with a hair swimming among smelts, a butter pat splatted on his dry cleaned sleekness. He clenched his lips together to hold the barracuda at bay, wanting only fish of peace this night. He recalled his wife this morning, telling him she was leaving for another “trip,” that made him gasp on his bitter greens, his bread sopped tears of implications. He took stock in the Scungilli Fra Diavolo, so many lifeless arms languishing limply, like his so many dreams to live life easy. Slippery squid bellies made him remember himself and his brother seeing who could keep a frog longer in their mouths, and of his needing to tell his boss that his investments had lost the company a good client and lots of money. He tried to remember who was the patron saint of Italian fishermen, thinking maybe a prayer to him could help, but he couldn’t remember anymore. He could only see mama wagging a damning finger at him, in his face, like at Christmas long ago, for trading his little brother’s new boots for a bag of pot. He just stared down at his cannoli feeling impotent. He polished off the wine bottle, “I’ll get right with you tomorrow,” he muttered, unthinkingly crossing himself. He drove home, straight through three red lights, and passed out on the sofa, Wayne Newton singing Silent Night.

poem Lilies By Mikki Metteba 6th grade student at Tsehootsooi Dine Bi’olta’ in Fort Defiance, Arizona The petals you have are as soft as a newborn child. In the spring and summer you grow, you bloom. You are admired. Sadly, you remain a ghoul through autumn and winter. People wish you still remained. Your sleeping ends on the first day of spring. People rejoice for your reincarnation. You know Mother Nature smiles on you, even when you watch the winter’s frost consume you. Your once flower-filled field surrenders As falling leaves cover your patch and you become a spectator to the fall of your kingdom.

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poem For You Grandma By Nicole Marie John A guilty man who was driving drunk and loaded, killed my auntie and grandma whose vehicle almost exploded. We suffer as a family with pain and salty tears, over this tragedy of a stupid man who wanted a few beers. He tried, this drunk driver, to kiss a girl and keep her, not knowing or thinking a night could end in a blurr. Poor *Susan wanted to keep him safe in her very own home. But no, instead *Jack chose to drive drunk all alone. I sit here trying to understand all this trial and jury. Every evening I go home with my family and worry. All of my aunties and uncles are missing their mother. A very strong woman who is like no one other. Aunties and uncles miss their silly, loving sister. *Dillon, *Daisy, *Alex, the family we all miss her. A mommy to *Daisy and *Dillon, an auntie to all the cousins. A sister to the brothers, a well known weaver, and a loved in-law. Grandma *Heaven who will never be forgotten and ignored. *Anna Heaven the gardener, bingo player, babysitter and grandma adored! I will never forget when I used to live with my grandma. All the memories in her house with smiling faces we love to see. I miss you Grandma so much I wish you could be here with me! Your new grandbabies who don’t even know who you are. Don’t worry I’ll tell them about you and that you’ve gone far. Far away with the angels and spirits from the Heaven above. You know the ones you’d go to church and sing for love. I’m remembering the,”Ouch, hurts, and love yous!” You used to say. Your laugh when you laughed so hard, your jokes that went away. We keep you in our hearts and talk to you in prayer. Just touch us from above and let us know there is love to share. I’m still trying to accept the fact that you are gone. Grandma and Auntie I know *Jack has done wrong. I just don’t understand this tragedy and pain. Keep watching over us because it might drive me insane. We still have your friends *Susie and *Pearl here. They too miss you and Auntie and wish you both were near. I’m going to miss you, so will the whole family of yours. Your smoking cigarettes and the dawn of chores. I’ll keep writing about you so the family won’t forget. Just so *Jacks’ family feels their son’s guilty regret. I wish I could hear you one more time. I know we will meet again because you are my grandma until the end. Maybe you are happier being with grandpa. Tell him we miss him too, for I am part of the generation he never knew. Thank you for always being there. I should have thanked you before. I never knew such a thing would happen. Goodnight Grandma and Auntie, I know you are both still napping. *Names have been changed.

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believe • gallup 15

short story Ink in the Snow By TheFly -I don’t know where this will go because things are hardly in a straight manner anymore. There was a time when I gave a tattoo at four in the morning post Christmas Eve, just as the snow was about to give into blue. Tequila and a jailhouse machine; sloppy but straight to the point; cigarettes were plenty, and the gun was dirty. No discomfort in the fact that failure would be permanent; I couldn’t tell who was happier, him or I. Two brothers alone on Christmas, the only two who could say that Santa does not care much for milk and cookies, that he’d rather rest on the moon with a dry ice cocktail and a pipe full of Merry Christmas. Faint sounds of dead end music fluttered in through the walls, songs of the Janes and the ones who got away. We listened to the music while the tattoo gun raced on. On dark mornings there is nothing to do but embrace the void the cold creates, or laugh at the mistakes new light brings for us. We don’t cry because it would break us too much, so the morbid sadness on the stereo would have to become the euphemism for our lucid pain. What did we have to mourn? What vulgar memories could spark this act of vandalism against the skin? We both had our own stories of violence, and the scars were still being tortured even after the skin healed. This was a moment in which those old vicious stories came out of their dirty homes and crawled through our pores to greet whatever was left of us. Or maybe it was a momentary war of past and present that took place on our crippled skin? Whatever, we both were beyond rationality by now. This was only a moment of perverted clarity, a moment in which we despairingly saw things as they are, and with our liquored bodies and crooked tattoo marks, we knew this was the best it could be. That’s when the anchor set in our chests, and for some odd reason our dreams took a ghostly form. She held us tight and wouldn’t let go. This confused the two of us because she’d been absent for so long. She leaned next to our ears and whispered with stale breath, tales of trees that didn’t let me fall; tales of mothers without the knife in her hand. Most of all she scribbled fables of warmth, which we never found in winter nights. The dreams, after all these years, still proved to be a mockery. And oh how those stories she told would turn our stomachs, and bust the concrete dams we built around a past life. In this moment of extreme vulnerability, bitter filth operated our minds and enhanced our self-destruction. This level of betrayal will tear you down and make you want to wash your skin away. But on the morning of Christmas we garnered strength and pushed the stories into cheap tattoos. One more step into the direction that sometimes holds its promise of something better. The house was dirty, the gun was filthy, the liquor was new and the year was almost over. The day had just been hatched and tears, dead trees and beer caps didn’t matter. In a house where childhood was sacrificed and mother cried an ocean, in the house where blood was spilled in every room, in the house where Christmas was always to the tune of The Moonlight Sonata, everything was frozen and sadness and guilt were suspended. On this Christmas day we found a present, a promise with dust twenty years thick – the dust had made us forget about snow – twenty years old and dirty but we never opened it. We figured it’ll take more than one to make us let go of all our pain. I finished the tattoo and went to bed. I fell asleep to the memory of mother crying late at night twenty years ago on Christmas Eve. We had no presents; we had no tree. I watched and knew that she had nothing to give, but she’d be there for us in the morning. Pain and tear drops was what I knew of Christmas from then on, a day in which you could only give a slice of your sorrow because you had nothing else to offer. And all you can do is offer a piece that isn’t too dirty, a slice that doesn’t hurt so much.

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poem The Granddaughter By Penny Hyde She walks with him a step or two at a time, a slow trail through the parking garage, the crossing light, up the elevator, down the beige corridor. They have shuffled to this stopping point. He leans on his cane in the center of the long hall, his tallness bent forward from thin hips, rheumy eyes fixed on the small pocket inside his old wool coat. His stiff fingers roam the interior woolen landscape, bony fingers wedging the frayed slit into an open cavern, digging there amidst stale flakes of tobacco for the tiny slip of paper that directs him again to where he is going. She stands next to him under the waiting room sign watching his long fingers search for the elusive instructions, touches his elbow gently, removes a speck of lint from under his left eye. They do not speak.

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She knows how to wait with him, how to mostly let him find his way, has an immovable patience a wife would have worn through years ago. She remembers when his hands were strong and elegant, how all of her fingers could wrap around one of his, and how supple the other hand was carrying a bucket of water, not spilling a drop even if she skipped beside him, how his hands scooped a measured cupful of the water, placed the cup gently in her palms, guiding her as she poured the water around each plant of bean, each plant of corn. And when he stood again arching his back after an hour in the hot field, her kneeling beside him, she remembers how he towered against the mountains, and how the knees of his muddy jeans smelled of fresh dirt promises of forever, and summer rain.

believe â&#x20AC;˘ gallup 17

short story A Land Sailor’s Day By Amy Clark The first time I rode with Sam in his semi-truck, was the first spring we were together. Bigger than a modern covered wagon, his truck is a land ship as large as a cottage. Share my first day, as a land sailor. Reflected in the round mirror perched above our semi-truck’s right fender, the sun’s glare pierces my view of the road ahead. The landscape outside my window slowly transforms from bare, snow-covered fields to rolling hills hiding bursts of trees. Barns, houses, and trees are like playthings placed on a patchwork quilt spread on the floor. Silo, water tower, and radio tower promenade past. I see fields tilled by the scratch of metal teeth drawn by a giant tractor, an iron horse. Beside the highway, a grey heron stands in a cow pond, like a line across an artist’s drawing, a single charcoal stroke, or wisp of ink from a calligraphy brush. Silent, it stares without a tremble to ripple the surface of unmoving waters. Its eyes search for movement below: shadow of pumping frog leg, flicker of fish tail. A motorcyclist glides by, feet poised inches above the flowing pavement; torso balanced above spinning wheels. His helmet, a bubble, pivots as we passed; a soft purr, the cyclist pulls ahead to weave among trucks ahead. A police car hunkers down in the grassy hollow of the highway’s median strip. With his CD radio, Sam relays a warning to truckers in his wake. Police cars lay in wait to flag down a truck flying by too fast. Haunches wound, like a spring-loaded Cheetah, resting as herds of trucks stream past; they watch for a worthy opponent. At a truck stop, giant engines of the highway face each other in gaudy colors with stripes and fancy lettering. Sloping hoods gleam different hues above differently shaped front grills; their makes: Western Star, Sterling, Volvo, Freightliner, Peterbuilt, Mack, and International. Sam balances on his truck’s front tire to scrub the splatter of bugs from its windows and mirrors. Then, he swings his heaviest hammer under the trailer attached to his truck, to open another hole to shove a steel bar into. He jumps into his cab, sets trailer air brakes, and jerks his cab forward to scrape a larger space between the trailer’s axles. A trucker, with his baby son in a car seat beside him, pulls out, stops, climbs

Untitled By Claire Seelinger Devey

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James kept the earphones in even though his iPod was off. He didn’t often listen to music on it anyway, unless he was looking for an escape, but usually he left it off to conduct his research. A person on a cell phone would say anything if they thought no one could hear and on the “El” they weren’t likely to lose service unless they were underground. There was plenty of time to listen and observe, but James would not speak unless absolutely necessary. If he had time, he would push his luck and test out his theories about people. Recently he had had more frequent opportunities to do so because he was getting to be pretty good. Once, while on a bus, James used the dead white wire trick and adjusted his posture and facial expression to his standard Commuter-in-a-Daze setting. He set his backpack on the seat next to him and then clearly heard the sound of the outside zipper pocket being undone only a couple of minutes later. He waited, letting the hand root around inside before he turned to face the passenger behind him. No dramatic confrontation, no words exchanged at all; caught was caught and the wannabe thief quietly returned an empty hand to his lap. James gave himself an extra point for that one; he’d spotted the guy from the front before he’d even swiped his fare and he had elbowed his way into the empty seats ahead of two (typically) giggly highschoolers. Today he wished he wasn’t trapped near a toddler. The kid was delirious with excitement; he sucked the handrest as he stared, wide-eyed, out the window. He kept saying “tayn, tayn, tayn” over and over again, to remind himself that he really truly was riding a real train. His mother acted shy but James could tell she was proud. “He rides every day and he never gets bored!” she exclaimed and an older gentlemen (predictably) mumbled something about the wonder of childhood. James had hated most of his own childhood and he intentionally didn’t go by “Jim” because he thought it sounded childish. A Jim or a Jimmy might drool or pee himself, but a James would never allow himself to be so helpless or transparently needy. “But,” James thought, “a subject with mucus is still a subject,” and he got down to the business of dissecting and labeling. Three stops later and his conclusions were typical – but they were almost always typical. There wasn’t much that could surprise James anymore; he had ridden too many trains and buses to encounter anything new and he prided himself on being able to peg anyone down within three or four stations. The mother was young and the toddler was probably her only child. The older man was no doubt riding to meet his chess

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down, and finishes unhitching from his trailer. His baby’s lips move to the country-western song playing on his truck’s radio. Another truck eases out of its parking slot, then, pauses to let a police car advance. Its towering brown cab slides back in deference, as the police car sneaks around the corner, circumnavigating a row of trucks. They let him pass, like docile elephants disregard a jackal’s trot. Parked at a distribution center, we wait to be called to a dock for unloading; then, Sam’s CB radio crackles with noise. Vibrations, of a forklift moving inside our trailer, gently rock us. Later, we troll the distribution center yard, looking for a specifically numbered loaded trailer to hook to. Like a headless dinosaur, it crouches, narrow iron legs pressed against the concrete pavement. Sam backs his cab against the front of it, and with a sudden, noisy jolt, he slides the greasy palm of his cab’s fifth-wheel-plate beneath it. Its kingpin clenched between the closed fingers of the fifthwheel-plate, the trailer dutifully follows behind us. We’ve been delayed, so Sam has to drive at night. Headlights, of cars passing by, make raindrops sparkle on the windshield. Signs with white lettering flit by my sleep-heavy eyes. Finally, Sam parks on the shoulder of a highway ramp and I bless the opportunity to close our journey-reddened eyes.

partner and they would listen to the Russian radio station at the lakefront while they played. The too-cheery woman in her thirties was clearly an evangelist and when she deliberately took the aisle seat in order to corner the unfortunate passenger who was to be her afternoon target, James thought: “Ha.” James sometimes felt guilty about these little exercises, sort of. Monosyllabic language and the absence of salivary control was entirely age appropriate for a one- or two-year-old and the beaming mother wasn’t exactly breaking any moral or natural laws, either. Mothers are supposed to be delighted with red-faced hysterical newborns and to carry that pride into the pimply teenage years. It was just that it was all so very predictable. James was bored by all their boring typical-ness. He sighed and that’s when he noticed her looking. She was staring at him and smiling slightly, amused though not unkind. He guessed her to be a decade ahead of him in age and with the self-confidence not to care about trends or even makeup. A no-fuss hairstyle and sensible shoes, but pretty. She was a graduate student, or one of those non-profit types, or maybe she worked at the Newberry Library, he couldn’t tell. Either way, she had him: the classic smug twenty-something who plays his transit game and is conceited enough to think it was his idea first. James walked out through the doors of the train and down the stairs of the Belmont station. Before he reached the Vic Theatre, before he was even a block away, he had switched on his music. He had already forgotten them all.

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short story Untitled By Frandora Josephine Rogers “Overtime, capture the flag.” I stood frozen along with my teammates, watching the timer countdown. 3…2…1…0. “Capture the objective.” As one we surged forward, bumping into one another, into buildings and sliding up against walls. Our senses heightened, watching, waiting, listening. I, by myself, ran across the wide open road, praying none would see me. I fled inside a doorway, clinging the wall. I knew for certain that someone would run by me. It was also possible the whole enemy team would. I cringed at the thought of that. There would be no way I could survive. It was fool hearted to think so. Bracing myself I peeked around the corner. My eyes quickly scanned the room before me. The reds, golds, and browns lit by soft warm light of the hotel lobby was empty of life, other than the small bug, scuttling across cold hard tiles and plush rugs. Swiftly my feet carried me across the lush room to the edge of a doorway leading out to a small courtyard. The outside yielded not a soul. Focusing on a corridor, I charged in the open. My fingers twitched against the trigger. My eyes were wide and flicked to every direction, trying to see everything at once. I was on the edge of enemy territory. As I neared the corner a body slammed against me, knocking me to the side. Dazed, I searched my field of vision. Tension rose within me. The hit was an enemy soldier. This fact resonated through my body. My arms began to move automatically as they were trained to do. They lifted the weight of the gun to my shoulder, the smooth end rested solidly against it. The man had seen my movements and began to spray bullets, in crazed panic, without taking aim. Deliberately, I fell to the ground. Bullets peppered the brick wall above me. Lying flat on the cobblestones, I brought my weapon to my face. It’s cool metal brushed against my cheek. In four short bursts bullets entered the body of the man who stood before me. His silent blood-choked scream rang lost in the receding echoes of gunfire. His gun slid from his grip and clattered to the earth, where his body followed. I leaped over the limp body and ran through the short corridor, past the bar table, stopping abruptly before the doorway. I could see the red flag waving in tantalizing splendor. It was practically begging me to take it. As much as I wanted to, I hesitated and precious time was ticking by. Backing away from the door, I steadied myself. Taking a running leap out the door in mid-air I twisted my

Willie and the Spice King By John Hoover

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Willie and the rest of the team blew into the restaurant, beaten but bolstered with beer. Sure, they’d lost the softball game, but the suds and camaraderie always helped to assuage the angst. “I’ll buy the first round,” Willie boomed, and reached into his nylon jacket. That oh oh feeling – his wallet was gone! A worried expression immediately overcame his cruel countenance. He raised his hands to the waitress, Shanelle, in a timeout signal, so appropriate to jocks, and left his teammates, storming out to the Hyundai. Now what’s up with that fool, she thought. That big doofus done keeled over last week, now he’s gone ahead and lost his money or something. Shanelle sashayed over to the ballplayers, whipping out her notepad and pencil. “OK guys whatsit be?” she asked, squeezing her voluminous hips between a shortstop and a catcher. Humid nights in Georgia, sweat soaked dudes from softball games, good tips from the patrons; Shanelle enjoyed her work and the chance to socialize. “We’ll take three pitchers and start off with those onion rings, honey,” said Lamont, “Make it Bud, OK?” “No problem” she replied, “But what about your friend?” Shanelle glanced over to the screen door, raising an eyebrow. A couple of the boys looked at each other, grinning. “Hey, don’t say nothing, but we got his billfold already right here – little joke.” They both laughed, the redheaded one patting his fielders glove knowingly. Whew thought Shanelle, what these people will do sometimes. They all crazy. Trouble was, she recalled, she and the big doofus had had quite an argument over the previous week’s rowdy incident. She found this Willie guy to be belligerent, as well as scary. “So ah suppose he be back here soon?” Shanelle asked. As if on cue, back in the side entryway he came, looking seriously upset. He plowed through a few rough-cut chair stools on the way over to the table. Some of the dudes lost their giggling real fast. Shanelle headed back over to the bar, all senses acute. She replaced the Lynrd Skynrd CD with a mellower disc on the sound system, a cue for behavior control.

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body to the right and fired. That soldier never had time to aim his gun. Landing on my feet, I spun around and sprinted toward my prize, unaware of the hostile soldiers to my left. Pain bit my sides as they showered live rounds at me. I staggered straight into a wall, ducking behind a yellow dumpster. I could hear their ammunition penetrate and rebound against the metal shielding me from them. Unexpectedly, my eyes were blinded with white. A dull ringing sound pieced my ears. Fear filled my body. I laid there on the ground, next to some foul smelling ooze, blind and deaf to the world. For ten terrible agonizing seconds I waited for the execution shot to kill me but no such thing came. When the ringing faded and my sight returned I saw two of my teammates. They helped me off the ground and began running back towards our flag. In one line we ran pausing only inside a building. We were so close to home base but the main battle had moved there. We could see missiles being shot into the sky and the explosions of grenades. The thunder cracks of sniper rifles and the distinct clangs of every gun being fired echoing all around us. The escort in front me scanned the area with wide sweeping arcs then ran through the doorway. I followed after and stood with him before sprinting into the chaos of battle. I focused only on our flag. I was hit with enemy fire once again and my vision reddened. Taking a final leap, hoping, wanting with everything I had, I dove head first. My shoulder hit our flagpole. Our world froze. “Enemy flag captured. Victory is ours.”

“Any of you assholes seen my wallet?” Willie said, red faced. Things seemed to be going dark-side, so the security dude ambled over, taking a seat nearby and watched Willie warily, observing the action. Shanelle was a bit relieved to see that, so she put her cell phone back in her purse under the bar, out of sight. The beers were ready now – Shanelle brought the three pitchers over, silently placing them on the large upright. “Willie,” said Lamont. “We got yer wallet right here man,” tossing it in the air across to him. “Little joke.” At that Willie grinned a bit, Shanelle noticed, kinda funny-like. Then chaos and violence exploding, Willie reached down under the table, lifting and slamming it down again, money and beer flying everywhere. He lunged for Lamont, grabbing him by the neck, and as they fell, jarred her to the floor with his girth. Shanelle cursed and shrieked. A cloud of pepper spray suddenly became omnipresent and Willie streaked through the door, nearly breaking its hinges as he coughed, spat, and shed red tears into the gravel lot. Security put his depleted pepper can down on the table, smiled knowingly at Shanelle. He turned round to face the shell-shocked ballplayers. “Prefer you boys use salt from here on . . .You understand?”

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short story House Hunting By Seth Weidenaar Oh, hello. You’re here already; I was expecting you at 4:oo, but this is a wonderful surprise. Before we venture inside, I would like you to take a look at the landscaping done to this front yard. The neighbors certainly noticed, they’ve been praising this work; they seem to always come out around 4:00 when I show the house to tell me how much they appreciate the work. The owners made a great decision there. While you take a quick look, I am going to slip inside; I will be right back. Here I am, what was that? Oh, yes, that is something that could be addressed at a later time. That tree over there is an authentic Buckeye tree. I’m not sure how they got it to grow, but it has been surviving and thriving since the previous owners had it planted a few years ago. It struggled at first, and then after the event it has been growing like crazy, funny how that stuff happens, especially after what we were expecting. Yes, yes, it’s time to go inside. Watch your step here, there is a bit of a step up into the house. One of the first things most people notice when they enter this house is the authentic Teak floors. The golden hue really sets a great mood in this room. And yes, those ceiling beams are solid Birdseye Maple. It was imported from Georgia, the owner previous to the previous owner found a stand of ten trees with that wonderful birdseye pattern; he had them trucked over here at great expense, but it is certainly worth every penny when you see them like this. What I tell potential buyers is to search out the best place in the living room to put your television, and then build the room up from there. As you can see, this room has some excellent options for a television. It might be hard to get the perfect mental picture, what with the previous owners leaving the place empty. They were certainly in a hurry to leave town. I’m not so certain I know what that is all about. Oh no, those are all just rumors. No one has proven that the event has affected anyone’s health. If you are unsure of anything, you should buy bottled water at the grocery store. It is not that expensive, and it might give the peace of mind you are after. Don’t worry about showering in the water here; with the new water softener in the garage most of the harmful particles are killed. That is if there were any harmful particles in the water at all.

Elegant Enmity By James Frazier I laid in bed drifting in and out of sleep, like, capsizing on the hard and dry desert ground then subsiding into a weightless ocean. I baked under my favorite warm creamy-white quilt with purple squares that have designs of flowers on them; it was Hers. The playing record flowed music throughout the house. I heard the doorbell ring; then, immediately followed by Her letting herself in and greeting everyone with her famous one word entrance: “HELLO?!” In reaction to her distinct soft voice, I jumped out of bed and gave her a smothering bear hug. In return she gave me a casual hug and with a fast pace, went straight into the bathroom. She came in wearing a dark-blue dress and had silky-black-curly hair; it suited her charisma. I followed her like a puppy, watching and observing every move, hoping I’d get a treat or some attention. She stood in front of the mirror and took a black glossy tube out of the purple make-up bag. She took off the cap and twisted the bottom to reveal red lipstick. It was as if she was getting ready for a party, like the days when she would get ready for her job as a waitress; everything, so mundane. After putting on lipstick and eye liner she went into the bed room and checked herself out in body size mirror. While she stood there, I hugged her and put my cheek against the warmth of her back. “I’m back, James,” she said, “You happy?” “Yeh, I am! I missed you so, sooo, sooooO, much,” I replied. I grasped tighter and the lights in the room glisten an ensemble. The background music continued. I felt the comfort and joy of her very presence. But, something didn’t feel right. “This isn’t real,” I said. She hesitated, “Hey,” she said, turned around and held my shoulders, reassuring me. Speaking softly, “It is. I’m here.” she said convincingly, looking straight into my eyes. Then, smiled contentedly and turned back to the mirror and started to curl her hair. I placed my head on her back again, trying to make sense of things while staring at her through the mirror. Was I dreaming? I thought for awhile, and then, a sudden realization hit me, like a bird’s unexpected crash against a window. Her body froze to a stop and looked at me, like a reaction to that very thought, like she knew what I was thinking. I clutched tighter and taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth. “Don’t say it,” she interrupted, before any words came out. I looked at her, “Why?” I asked. “Because, if you do, you’ll leave, unwillingly. You’ll leave me, again.” She put down the curling iron and turned around, “Stay

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Yes, that is another quirky aspect of the house. The previous owners put that fancy brickwork in the window openings on the West side of the house. I think that those nicely colored red bricks provide a nice contrast with the golden floor and brightly colored ceiling beams. The brickwork is also a great feature in the summer; it will keep the hot sunlight from pouring into the windows and heating up the home. Yes, I think they put those brick there after the event, but now we should probably be looking into the bedrooms on the east side of the home. Here we are, these three bedrooms on the east side get wonderful sunlight in the morning. I have found that the house heats up very quickly in the morning if you open these drapes and allow the sunlight to pour in. It is a great aspect of this house that it lets you wake up to a wonderful, naturally heated morning. After I started showing this house, I was a bit upset that my own bedroom was on the western wall of my home, but there are trade offs; at least I get to see those awe inspiring sunsets from my bedroom. You always need to look for the positive trade off. Should we take a look at the back yard? No, you’re not interested in seeing the back yard. Well, let me assure you that it is very nice; there is a patio with a brick barbecue pit. Great for parties. Before you go, please take a look at the price of this home. It is certainly very hard to beat that price. It is a repossession, so the bank is eager to get it sold, but if you have another offer in mind they might be very receptive. Here is my card.

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El Rancho Hotel with me,” she said, “Stay here. I don’t need to give you a provoking speech to make you understand something you already do.” “Understand what?” I asked. “Understand reality,” She backed away and walked around the room, studying the Christmas lights that hung above on the ceiling. Speechless and puzzled, I studied her and she studied me, then continued so suavely like the answer was simple, “The poisonous and perverse ideas of Man don’t exist here. Politics, Religion, Morality, Ego and Greed are all obsolete. This is a paradise, James, pure in genuine form.” She walked up to me and laid her hand on the side of my face. Looking straight into each other’s eyes we stood in silence and my eyes began to water. “I’m sorry, Autumn, but how can you be here? You don’t . . . exist anymore.” As I told her she turned away, ignoring my words, and walked over and looked out the window with great focus; then told me, “I feel like I exist when you are here. Like I’ve been sleeping and I just awoke with vague memories, of a life I once had. I remember the last time you where here, but it goes blank from your absence. And all I remember is black,” she turned towards me, “How can I be only a figment your subconscious, if I have a conscience?” She paused, and then said, “It scares me.” “I think it time for me to wake up.” Imminently, she lashed out with a vicious scream, “JAMES!” I woke in my bed and the curtains of the window were illuminated by the day light. I lay in bed for awhile with a ring in my ear from the vibration of her scream. The music still played.

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short story The Love of Darkness By Marcus Martza Mark walked down the long, dark hallway leading to the exit. Nothing compared to the darkness in the hallway. You could practically feel the darkness with your hands. In his hand, Mark held a flashlight. It was like his Excalibur against the Dark Knights within the premises. All around him, he heard footsteps, thumps, and voices. He was scared, confused, and his heart raced like he had ran a marathon all day. But he had to do anything to save the love of his life, Kate. Kate was taken in by the Darkness and was being held captive in one of these rooms. Throughout his mind, he heard the last words she screamed. It was like a broken record player that would never stop. With each passing door, he looked in to find the ones taken by the Darkness. They stood there, waiting for an order to be given. Each of the shadow figures held a different weapon ranging from a knife to a chainsaw. When Mark shined the light at them, they cowered in fear and moved back into the shadow. Sadly, he did not find her in any of the rooms. When Mark reached the exit, he had given up all hope. There was no way he could find Kate in all this Darkness. He laid his hand on the handle and was about to push when he heard something. It was the soft cry of Kate. He slowly looked back down the hallway and saw that there was something standing in the center of the hallway. Mark slowly walked to the figure and progressed into a run. He kept running and running, but no matter how fast he ran, he did not move an inch. The Darkness seemed to be stretching the hallway so Mark could not reach the figure. Mark slipped and fell to the ground. The contents of his coat pockets spilled to the ground. Batteries, flares, and a flare gun scattered across the ground. Mark looked at the flare and thought an idea. He grabbed the flare, lit it up, and got up off the ground. He slid the flare down the hallway and ran after it. The light from the flare shined the shadows away and he gained more ground. The light was protecting him, helping him reach the figure. When the flare died out, he reached the figure. In front of him was Kate. Mark grabbed her arm and tried to pull her to the exit. She would not budge. He looked back at her, and saw a sight most horrifying. The figure was Kate, only she was covered in Darkness. The shadows swirled all around her, her feet blended in with the Darkness, and the light had left her eyes. She grabbed Mark’s arm and pulled him toward the Darkness. She gave a sick smile and a dark laugh before Mark was consumed by the Darkness.

poem A Friend with No Rough Edges By Michael Daly My confidante is a quiet, private lady A true friend, not a maybe Who exudes a timeless beauty all her own We share everything – in person and on the phone

With her I walk the beach The seashore a perfect place for her to teach Barbara brings the beauty of the world into focus And creates a circle of harmony with us the locus

She’s as lovely as she is gracious Just as her elegant softness is spacious This Classy Lady wearing a sweater Is a perfect friend in any weather

Very gently with soft support She draws me up in this informal court She’s a true friend with no rough edges And talks me away from life’s dangerous ledges

Her interests are as variegated as her hair She speaks her mind softly but with flair Quickly taking in ideas and views of women and men Then move on as Khayyam’s pen

She’s my advocate, cheerleader and fan club president That she’s there for me is self evident She mirrors to me and highlights my best parts Reminding me that I’m a work of art

She consults, her specialty is her fabric As natural to her as to others it’s magic Drawing out their own fashion, wellness, image and beauty To display God’s gifts as is everyone’s duty

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Believe â&#x20AC;˘ Gallup

poem Red Door By Jon Marshall She painted the back door red, a bright spot on the edge of Black Mesa. Though the door of the hogan faced away from the dirt road, all her Navajo neighbors used her red door as a reference for direction though it couldn’t be seen. Everyone knew what existed, not apparent. An artistic soul moved within her. Poetry spoke from her heart. Painting illuminated her path. Eastern colleges carried her skills into a white world, but a native reality called her back. How far can we ever travel from our imprinted youth? Escape the mold forming our own involuntary creation? The people called a nearby landmark Fish Point. Once a visiting Yaqui thought the great boulder swam exuberantly in the air, searching for its Source. He denied any mescal influence. Some visions defy reason, others beg for it. A white doctor fell for her native beauty, entranced by soulful stories of Spider Woman’ Sipapu: the Place of Emergence. Such stories reconciled his personal loss of Eden. Though her heart braided their cultural collision, the western winds carried her spirit away to the Place of Solace while an Asian war continued to scar his suffering spirit: washed-out voices waled names he didn’t want to forget. Eventually, the beseeching cries lured him away from the mesa lands. He didn’t know she brought forth a son who befriended the willful winds playing on the edge of their private mesa. Where the boy wandered, they followed; even to Fish Arroyo, long dry, though fossils presented wet residents a million years gone. She loved to sit by the red door watching her son hang his legs over the rock ledge, seated motionless, a thousand empty feet to the rust red boulders below, gazing toward Canyon de Chelley. No fear: the winds would never let him fall. One day he left for college, the East calling. Prompted by the Silence of her home,

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she began to use her grandmother’s loom, fabric art spinning vanquished tales of her People beyond the vanished veil of Time. Sometimes the winds knocked on that red door, wanting her son for play; but she told the free spirits he lived another life now. They would soon leave, except one who lingered, swirling about the rock her son loved to sit. Evenings found our artist in the chair next to her red door, distance Gazing, drawing in her Power. When the winds beckoned play, she sent them away, childhood long since gone. That May, she heard gravel crunch from rubber tires at the hogan’s front. An engine stopped. A subdued quiet spoke: the driver hesitated. Uncertain. Door closed. Slow steps on the gravel path rounded the dwelling, hinted: a man. Declining heels: white. Crunching weight suggested a long sadness. A familiar feeling eased ahead, along the path, stopped where she sat, waiting. Three winds raced across the back yard swirling in light, airy funnels, flinging off the mesa edge into an eternal nothing, vanishing presences. A fourth lingered, gestured, then followed. The scrape of his shoes announced his harsh internal war, over. Finally, he returned to his true home: empty. Softly, the doctor stepped into view: spirit floating, hope seeking anchor. She noted the lines about shadowed, tired eyes: wounds of a long struggle. The light of his soul sought hers, asking. Her heart nestled into a long empty, lonely lair, excited that oneness could actually become duality, as she tilted her head, slightly parted her lips, and smiled.

poem Lord Leopard By Standing Feather The early mornings, before the sun, when the earth is purple and the stillness of the pines prepares the mountain for its morning song, retreating creatures of the night pause amongst the soft needles to hear things. On this morning, during this silence, some of them heard the woman wake and begin to stoke her fires. Birds flew to her back porch to witness each other and shudder away the dusk and dustiness of the night. She opened the back door as the retreating spiders moved into their daytime gardens. Now the sun appeared to her, and she said hello as if it were her long dead husband. She recalled him as a conductor of music, and had always felt his spider web when the sun crept over the notch on lightning ridge. She once told her daughter about the webs of her dead husband and staring blank - her daughter asked why she was wearing a mask with elk fur around its hollow eyes. Her daughter never returned, and left that day saying that only native americans are allowed pray the way she was praying, and act the way she was acting. That year, at harvest time, the woman left her crop to rot away on the vine. Tonight, at sunset, she would go outside again, after stoking the stove and dressing herself in her masks, to romp in the spider gardens and to creep with the animals that hear so well at night. Tonight she would walk under the harvest moon - along her winding paths and maybe further. She spent the day humming various symphonic movements while staring out at the blowing leaves and changing skies.

She recalled watching the ants one day in august. They scurried into their mound minutes before the hail had come to damage her tomato and datura plants. On another summer day, she crawled out at sunrise and dropped to her knees, this time wearing her leopard mask. She quietly snuck the paths between her lush gardens, moaning and purring until the birds left her porch sanctuary. When the sun was above her, she rolled around on her back and recalled that Franz Kafka had said that the leopards break into the temple and drink the sacrificial chalices dry; this occurs repeatedly, again and again; finally it can be reckoned upon beforehand and becomes part of the ceremony . . . As the sun moved under windy ridge, she placed her mask of lunacy on top of her face, and began to walk her paths. The moon had spun a beautiful web for her, reached down to wrap her, whispered to her of silky nights, and brushed its hand along her leopard print dress. Tomorrow she will awaken to harvest her garden again.

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What can UNM-Gallup do for you?

Here’s what one of our grads, April Longhair, has to say: ‘For a small area like Gallup to have a branch campus to get you started to pursue a higher education degree is really helpful. I was able to start at UNMG and move on to a bigger campus. It was convenient in terms of cost and accessibility.’

• Employed in an undergraduate student program as a chemical technician at Los Alamos National Lab • Associate of Science degree awarded in 2009 at UNM-Gallup • Currently earning a Bachelor of Science degree in Earth and Planetary Science at UNM, with plans to pursue a Master’s in Chemistry Stay close, go far with Spring classes at UNM-Gallup starting January 17, 2012. Certificates, Associate’s degrees, Bachelor’s degrees and Master’s degrees in 60 programs. Call 505.863.7500. Visit the Gallup campus, 705 College Avenue. For class schedules or to register www.gallup.unm.edu.

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JANUARY ArtsCrawl S a t ur d ay , J anuary 1 4 , 7 - 9 p m

Street party anyone? In the continuing evolution of ArtsCrawl there are lots of new and exciting additions taking shape. Going back to the roots of ArtsCrawl, Coal Street will again be closed from 2nd Street to 3rd Street each month, allowing art enthusiasts to stroll freely among the shops and galleries. Along the way people can rest on benches or warm themselves by the outdoor propane heaters, all the while listening to live music and watching artists creating on the street. This month check out live music by local DJ/VJ’s CloudFace and Marie-Michele, as well as Chris Easley who will be painting on the street.

Hope to see you out for the next ArtsCrawl on January 14! Foundations of Freedom, 115 W. Coal Ave. Capoeira Roda at 7:30pm

ART123, 123 W. Coal Ave.

enviroMENTAL process by Rehoboth Christian High School Students. Mixed Media Conceptual Art by Advanced and Independent Study Students.

Open Studio / Outsider Gallery, 123 W. Coal Ave. (East Room)

A project of Disability Services, Inc. and working to create an inclusive community, the studio/gallery will be featuring new painting by Jay Dickens, Robert Martinez and Floyd Nelson, contemporary bead jewelry by Frances Martinez, fine contemporary jewelry by Leaf Ashley, fiber art by Leah Kostopolos, paintings by Rossi Bright, photography by Bill Keeler, photography, nichos, milagros cards by Jill Farkas, photography by Raven Bright, drawings by Akira Ashley, and painting by Victor Vegas.

Beeman Jewelry Design, 211 W. Coal Ave.

Open for business. Hand-made, one-of-a-kind, custom jewelry created by John Beeman using high quality gemstones, ancient beads, and unique findings from around the world.

Makeshift Gallery, 213 W. Coal Ave.

Open for business from 7 to 9 pm. Offering unique and affordable handmade gifts, there’s always something new at Makeshift Gallery!

Youth Art Display, 305 S. Second Street

Young Artists of Gallup and McKinley County will be showing Leonardo’s Fabulous Machines: working models of 4 of Leonardo da Vinci’s amazing inventions, built by young artists and craftsmen in our community. The opening for this show is at 6:30 pm before ArtsCrawl. Light hot refreshments will be served.

Red Mesa Center, 105 W. Hill Ave.

The Gallup Sunrise Kiwanis Club will present a special exhibit and program commemorating the Centennial of New Mexico statehood. The program, entitled “Flags Over New Mexico” will be offered to the public at the Red Mesa Center (on Hill Ave., next to the Octavia Fellin Public Library) at 6:30 pm, in conjunction with the January Arts Crawl. Along with a Native American banner, flags displayed will represent Spain, Mexico, several from the United States, the Confederacy, and the current national and state flags. A brief description of each will be presented by historian Martin Link, who is a member of the Sunrise Kiwanis Club. Refreshments will be provided by the Culinary Arts class of Miyamura High School. For more information call Martin Link at (505) 863-6459.

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ElJanuary Morro Theatre Schedule

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Saturday, January 7, Show Time: 1 pm Kids Matinee Movie: Kung Fu Panda 2-The Kaboom of Doom Rated: PG 90 minutes Animated Voice Talents: Jack Black, Angelina Jolie, Jackie Chan Admission: Adults: $2.00 Children 12 & under: FREE! Po is now living his dream as The Dragon Warrior, protecting the Valley of Peace alongside his friends and fellow kung fu masters, The Furious Five - Tigress, Crane, Mantis, Viper and Monkey. But Po’s new life of awesomeness is threatened by the emergence of a formidable villain who plans to use a secret, unstoppable weapon to conquer China and destroy kung fu. Po must look to his past and uncover the secrets of his mysterious origins; only then will he be able to unlock the strength he needs to succeed. Saturday, January 7 Show Time: 7 pm In Honor of the King’s Birthday, January 8 Movie: Blue Hawaii Rated: NR 101 minutes Starring: Elvis Presley, Angela Landsbury, Joan Blackman, Roland Winters and Steve Brodie Admission: $5.00/adults $3.00/children 12 & under A soldier, returning to his Hawaiian home, defies his parents by taking a job with a tourist agency. Elvis Presley sings “Can’t Help Falling In Love.” Saturday, January 14, Show Time: 1pm Kids Matinee Movie: Disney Classic: Lady and The Tramp Rated: G 76 minutes Animated Feature Voice Talents: Barbara Luddy, Larry Roberts, Peggy Lee, Bill Thompson, Bill Baucom Admission: Adults: $2.00 Children 12 & under: FREE! This 1955 film tells the story of a rakish, street-smart dog named Tramp, who helps an aristocratic pooch named Lady out of some trouble. This Disney Classic is sweet and funny with a combination of innocence and sophistication. Peggy Lee co-wrote the songs and provides the voice of the Siamese cats in one of the film’s best-known musical sequences. Saturday, January 21, Show Time: 1 pm Kids Matinee Movie: The Smurfs Rated: PG 103 minutes Actors: Hank Azaria, Katy Perry, Neil Patrick Harris Admission: Adults: $2.00 Children 12 and under: FREE When the evil wizard, Gargamel, chases the tiny blue Smurfs out of their village, they tumble from their magical world and into ours -- in fact, smack dab in the middle of Central Park. Just three apples high and stuck in the Big Apple, the Smurfs must find a way to get back to their village before Gargamel tracks them down.

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Saturday, January 21, Show Time: 7 pm In Honor of Billy Mills coming to Gallup we will be showing the Movie: Running Brave Rated: PG 106 minutes Actors: Robby Benson, Graham Greene, Pat Hingle Admission: Adults: $5.00 Children 12 and Under: $3.00 The inspiring story of Billy Mills the American Indian that overcame adversity to go on to win the 10,000 meter long distance race in the Tokyo Olympics. Tuesday, January 24, Show Time: 7:30pm City of Gallup, Lodgers Tax, Gallup BID and Native Stars present: Billy Mills Olympic Gold Medalist-1964 Olympics-Tokyo Japan Admission: Advanced: $15/person At The Door: $20/person There will be a Meet and Greet from 6pm to 7pm (limited tickets) $25/person Show tickets and Meet and Greet tickets On Sale at The El Morro Theatre M-F 9am-6pm For more information call (505) 726-0050 The Legendary Billy Mills created the greatest upset in Olympic history by winning the 10,000 meter run. Born and raised on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota, Billy Mills is one of the most sought after Olympic keynote speakers on the platform. Saturday, January 28, Show Time: 7pm Join us in celebrating the Sundance Film Festival We will be showing the 2011 Grand Jury Prize Winner: How To Die In Oregon Rated: NR 107 minutes Admission: Adults: $5.00 Children 12 and under: $3.00 Documentary directed by Peter D. Richardson. In 1994, Oregon became the first state to legalize physician-assisted suicide. As a result, any individual whom two physicians diagnose as having less than six months to live can lawfully request a fatal dose of barbiturate to end his or her life. Since 1994, more than 500 Oregonians have taken their mortality into their own hands. In How to Die in Oregon, filmmaker Peter Richardson gently enters the lives of the terminally ill as they consider whether – and when – to end their lives by lethal overdose. Richardson examines both sides of this complex, emotionally charged issue. What emerges is a life-affirming, staggeringly powerful portrait of what it means to die with dignity.

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g a l l u p j o u r n e y. c o m Glenn’s Bakery 2. Best Breakfast Burrito: Grandpa’s Grill 3. Best Coffee Joint: Starbucks 4. Best Grocery Store: Safeway 5. Best Sandwich: West End Deli 6. Best Hiking/Biking Trail: Pyramid Rock Trail 7. Best Pizza Joint: Fratelli’s 8. Best Margarita: Virgie’s 9. Best City Sponsored Tourist Event: Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial 10. Best Local Bar: Sammy C’s Rockin’ Sports Pub and Grille 11. Best Restaurant Atmosphere: Angela’s Café 12. Best Place for a Picnic: Anywhere in McGaffey 13. Best Mural: Ric Sarracino, City Hall west wall 14. Best Green Chile: Jerry’s Café 15. Best Red Chile: Cocina De Dominguez 16. Best Burrito: Alicia’s Burritos 17. Most Recognizable Gallupian: Jackie McKinney 18. Best Restaurant for kids: Big Cheese Pizza East 19. Best Salsa: El Rancho 1. Best Burger:

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Quality health care, close to home College Clinic Pediatrics Internal Medicine Family Practice 505.863.1820

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TOWN January Library Events at Octavia Fellin Public Library Main Library Library to Celebrate Dr. King Jr. with Acclaimed Author Vaunda Nelson On Saturday, January 14 at 2 pm, the Octavia Fellin Library will present nationally-acclaimed children’s book author Vaunda Nelson, who will discuss her Coretta Scott King Award-wining book, Bad News for Outlaws: The Remarkable Life of Bass Reeves, Deputy U.S. Marshal. The Coretta Scott King National Book Award promotes understanding and appreciation of the culture of all peoples and their contribution to the realization of the American dream of a pluralistic society. A reception will follow the program.

Celebrating 90 Years in Gallup Elsie Ferrari Bernabe is celebrating her 90th birthday this month – and 90 years living in Gallup, New Mexico. From her experience, she has determined that, “Gallup is not a city; it’s a people.” Her parents immigrated to the area from central Italy. Elsie’s father and uncle came to the Southwest on their way to Phoenix, seeking warmer weather and work. When asking for directions, someone in Colorado told them to catch a boat in Shiprock and head down the river. Needless to say, upon arriving in Shiprock, they were more than a little surprised. However, a trader there encouraged them to stop over in Gallup to make some money before heading farther south. They followed his advice, but never made it to Phoenix. Elsie was born in Gallup on January 11, 1922 in St. Mary’s Hospital. She spent part of her childhood in Gibson and Gamerco; her father worked in the coalmines. At the time, Gamerco boasted a post office, church, school, and pool – then only one in the whole area. She remembers “Gallup kids” who came up just to swim in the pool. Before long, Elsie became a Gallup kid herself. While living in Gallup, she was introduced to her future husband. He was older than her, but she wrote letters and sent cookies to him while he served in the army in the Philippines. When he returned, they began courting; Elsie remembers that they went to an operetta on their first date. In 1948 they married. Together they had three children, eleven grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren with one on the way! Years ago, Elsie started Gallup’s first coin-operated laundry, called The Thrifty Clean Laundromat. She has also served the Gallup community through many civic organizations, and is still involved with the RMCHCS Auxiliary and Historical Society. After 90 years, Elsie has witnessed and been an important part of Gallup’s story. We wish Elsie a very happy 90th birthday!

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New Mexico Centennial: 1912-2012 The Octavia Fellin Public Library will commemorate one hundred years of New Mexico statehood by displaying newspaper articles of local interest to New Mexico statehood from each decade beginning with 1912 up to the present day. Find out how Gallup has changed over the past century and envision the state’s next hundred years. Where to Look for College Funding On January 27 starting at 4:30 pm the library will hold a Where to Look for College Funding workshop. Please call the library at (505) 863-1291 to register. Library Free Computer Classes in January Introduction to the Internet, the 11 at 11 am; PowerPoint I, the 17 at 12 noon; PowerPoint II, the 18 at 12 noon; Excel I, the 25 at 1 pm and Excel II, the 26 at 12 noon. Registration is required. To enroll, call the library at (505) 863-1291. Class size is limited Children’s Branch – New Programs A Manga Club (ages 9 -13) will be held Wednesdays at 4:30 pm starting January 11. This club is for kids who love all kinds of comics and graphic novels to get together to talk about what they’re reading! The club will also include activities such as cosplay. Manga is a Japanese genre of cartoons, comic books, and animated films, typically having a science-fiction or fantasy theme. Starting Saturday January 14 at 11:30 am, a new program for kids (ages 5-9) called K-3 Challenge will be held. This is a chance for kids to compete (for fun!) in games, puzzles, brainteasers and all sorts of active and interactive activities.

87301 Friends of Runnels Pool Needs You

For more than 30 years, Harold Runnels Swimming Complex has been a special place. It has a 25-meter swimming pool, a diving tank, a baby pool, a weight room, steam room, and locker rooms that are spacious and easy to use. It has been used by youth, adults, the elderly and those with special needs for workouts, therapy, relaxation, healing and fellowship. However, it’s closed now, because it needs immediate repairs and improvements in order to be safe and in compliance. It also needs funds for daily operation. The mayor and city council have given the “Friends of Runnels Pool” Task Force the opportunity to help them keep the pool open, but it will take everyone’s help to make it happen. The task force envisions tapping into the potential of the surrounding facilities (Larry Brian Mitchell Recreation Center, We The People Park and Playground of Dreams) to help create a community fitness park in the future, including Runnels Pool. And they need the community’s support. If these facilities have played a role in your life, then your voice needs to be heard. Please let your mayor and city councilors know your feelings and ideas. Contribute your energy and volunteer efforts. For more information, contact Betta Duncan, Chair of “Friends of Runnels Pool” Task Force, 505-722-5898.

Where to Recycle in Gallup Recycling Center NWNM Regional RSWA Transfer Station (107 Hasler Valley, 863-5776) Open: Mon. - Sat. 8AM -4:30PM Will accept - aluminum, metal & tin, corrugated cardboard, brown paper bags, mixed paper includes: newspapers, magazines, catalogs, junk mail, and office paper. (Place phone books in separate / designated bin only), #1 & #2 plastic bottles only. Most electronic waste (such as computers, servers, network equipment, server racks, flat screen monitors, printers, scanners, copiers, fax machines. phones, computer battery back-ups, UPS batteries, microwaves, computer mice & keyboards). Will accept small appliances. Drop-Off fee is $7 for TVs (not recycled). Drop-Off fees for large appliances by weight: 300 lbs and less is a $7 flat fee; more for greater weight. Mobile Recycling USA (two locations in Gallup) 1) Main location, west of Fire Rock Casino (Hwy 66 East 863·1236) 2) Gallup Trailer Sales (2702 E. Hwy 66, 722- 6737 & 1(800) 808-6737) Open: Mon-Sat. 8AM-6PM More . . . Mobile Recycling USA units in Chinle, Crownpoint, Dilkon AZ, Lupton, Pinedale, Sanders, Steamboat, Thoreau, Window Rock, and Zuni. Mon-Sat. 8AM-5PM Mobile Recycling USA units will PAY for: aluminum, iron, brass, tin, steel, copper, radiators, car and diesel batteries, electric motors, small & large appliances, and vehicles. Will ACCEPT: newspaper separated by glossy and newsprint, and bundled, all cardboard (corrugated and cereal boxes) Community Pantry (1130 Hasler Valley Rd., 726-8068) Will accept: plastic bags, corrugated cardboard, grayboard, catalogs, magazines, telephone books, white office & shredded paper, tree light strands. Visit mcrcnow.org for more information.

Capoeira Classes for Kids and Adults Empowerment Through Capoeira is a non-profit group in Gallup, New Mexico that uses the Brazilian dance martial art of Capoeira to offer new opportunities of enrichment and growth for youth and adults. In brief, Capoeira has a rich historical legacy rooted in the colonial slavery era in Brazil. Contemporarily Capoeira is practiced across the world and includes elements of martial arts, dance, break dancing, gymnastics, music, and song. Bringing these elements together the practitioners of Capoeira develop a community that focuses on personal growth, mental and physical health, and fun! Capoeira is absolutely for men, women, and children of all ages and physical abilities. Empowerment Through Capoeira has an outreach program for youth in the Gallup area. Currently classes for children are at the Foundations of Freedom dance studio and the Gallup Boys and Girls Club. Students participate in aerobic, stretching, and strength building activities that train the movements of Capoeira.

Combined with this is instruction in the music of Capoeira. This includes playing Brazilian percussion instruments while singing songs in the language of Portuguese. These songs are in a call and response form and include subjects such as the history of Capoeira or sending messages to the players of Capoeira. Empowerment Through Capoeira creates a safe community that allows students to challenge themselves in healthy ways while learning a new and different art form celebrated by many people across the world! If you or your family members are interested in trying Capoeira, please come to one of our classes, which are held at the Foundations of Freedom dance studio next to Sammy C’s on Coal Ave. Adult classes are Tuesdays and Thursdays at 8pm and children’s classes are Saturdays at 11:30-1:00pm. The first class is free and then $5 dollars each class. Punch cards are available for a discounted rate and scholarships for children or adults are available, as well. Please come and experience Capoeira in your community today!

believe • gallup

Ja n u a r y C o m m u n i t y Ca l e n d a r Sunday ONGOING

Sunday MTB Ride meets at mile marker 3 trail head on NM 400, 7 miles south of I-40, Exit 33. During months when the forest is inaccessible this ride meets at the East Trail Head of the High Desert Trail System. Support Class for Parents of Teens at First United Methodist Church from 6:30-7:30pm. Info: 8634512. Poetry Group, call Jack for more information (including location) at 783-4007. Psychic Playtime with RedWulf at the Old School Gallery 1st and 3rd Sundays, 7-9:30pm. Tarot, drum journeys and more tools to explore your inner self. $1 donation. Info: RedWulf @ 505-7834612. Tai Chi at Old School Gallery, 9:30am. Info: Reed at 783-4067. Coyote Canyon Women’s Sweat Lodge Ceremony on Sundays, 1-4pm, potluck dinner. Located 3 miles east of Highway 491, Route 9 junction, 1 mile south of Route 9. The ceremony is for wellness, stress reduction, purification and cultural sensitivity. All women are welcomed. For more information, call 505 870-3832.

Monday

ONGOING Battered Families Services, Inc. has a women’s support group that meets weekly. A children’s support group is available at the same time for children six years of age and older. Info: 7226389. Codependents Anonymous, 6pm at First United Methodist Church, 1800 Red Rock Drive, library room. Info: Liz at 863-5928. “Teen Survivors of Dating and Domestic Violence” support group meeting, 6:30-8:30pm. Info: 722-6389. Sustainable Energy Board meeting in the Mayor’s Conference Room, 3-5pm, on the fourth Monday of each month. For info/agenda, email brightideas98@gmail.com. Zumba Fitness Dance Class at Foundations of Freedom Dance Studio (115 W. Coal) at 6:30pm. For more information email zumbagallup@ yahoo.com or call Stephanie at (814) 282-6502. Chronic Pain and Chronic Illness 12 Step Support group. Meets every Monday from 5-6 PM at the First United Methodist Church, 1800 Red Rock Drive, library room. For info call 863-5928 or chronicpainanonymous.org. ZUMBA Fitness Classes at Larry Mitchell’s Recreation Center (701 E. Montoya Blvd.) starting at 5:30 p.m. For more information email r_roanhorse@yahoo.com or call Ralph Roanhorse at (505) 862-2970. ZUMBA Fitness Classes at Wowie’s Activity Hall on the corner of Maloney and 3rd Street starting at 7:00 p.m. For more information email r_roanhorse@yahoo.com or call Ralph Roanhorse at (505) 862-2970. Family Game Night at Octavia Fellin Public Library’s main branch at 5:30 pm.

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NEW YEAR’S DAY

The candlelight Taize’ worship service of music, Scripture, silence, and prayer will be held at 4 pm on at the Westminster Presbyterian Church, Boardman Drive (just south of the Orleans Manor Apartments). This hour service is offered by the ecumenical community for personal reflection and spiritual renewal. Take time to walk the Labyrinth (on the right before the final ascent to the church on the hill) before or after the time of worship.

Knitting Finishing Get Togethers Sundays, Jan. 22, & Feb. 19, Saturday March 3, 1:00 - 4:00 pm at the Old School Gallery, Free. Time to wrap up all those loose ends before we launch into some new knitting projects in the following quarters. You can finish the socks you started or perhaps the sampler is still undone, or you might even want to still learn how to knit using the continental method or start the sampler. Now is the time to knit! Instructors will be available to help those who need it. Questions call: Kate Wilson 783-4704. Please leave a message. Exploring Past Lives, 1 - 5 pm, at the Healing Yurt in El Morro. Exploring Past Lives with Redwulf Dancing Bare and Standing Feather. Using tarot cards, guided meditations and drum journeys, we will explore the remembrance/ metaphor that intentional vision work can show. Bring an art journal, a pillow & blanket, and your many lives for an afternoon of wonder. Held across the street from the Old School Galley at the Ancient Way Healing Yurt. Suggested donation, $10 -$20 - no one turned away for lack of funds. Please pre-register, 783-4612.

Habitat For Humanity – Not everybody swings a hammer, and not all positions require ongoing commitments. Anybody can become involved with Habitat Gallup and we are always looking for additional help. Intro meetings start at 6PM on the 1st and 3rd Mondays of each month, and are held at the Comfort Suites in East Gallup. Next Meeting is a Special Session, Monday, January 9th at 6PM. Comfort Suites in East Gallup. All are welcome! Quilt Club at Gallup Service Mart, 6:30-9 pm. Potluck – bring your favorite dish and join other quilters in the area to share ideas and projects and eat delicious food.. Bring your projects for an evening of Show and Tell and discussions about quilting. Remember to bring canned goods to fill a box(es) for the Food Pantry. Free event. For more information, call 722-9414.

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MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR. DAY PFLAG Gallup planning meeting at the Coffee House, downtown Gallup, 10am-12 noon. For more information, call 505-713-2828 or email gaygallup2010@gmail.com

Tuesday

Wednesday

Music & Movement (ages 1-3) 12 noon, Knitting Club at 4:00pm at the Children’s Library. For more information, call 726-6120.

Cancer support group, for information call 8633075 or 863-6140.

ONGOING

Tai-Chi Taught by Monika Gauderon at RMCH Vanden Bosch Clinic. 6pm for beginners. $60/ month.

ONGOING

Manga Club (ages 9-13) 4:30pm at the Children’s Library. For more information, call 726-6120.

Community Yoga, beginner/athletic beginner level. 6:15 pm, Catholic Charities/CIC. 506 W. Rte. 66. Info: Steph Asper (717) 357-0231 .

Studio Drawing Class at ART123, 7-9pm on WEDNESDAYS. $10 for non-members, $5 for members. Artist Steve Storz will teach ages 14 through adult in various drawing techniques utilizing Abstract, Art Brute, Minimalism, contour line, and others. Students need to provide their own materials. For more information, call 575-779-6760 or email steve. storz0@gmail.com.

Ladies’ MTB ride at High Desert Trail System starting at Gamerco trailhead at 6PM. Come to exercise, socialize, and have fun!

Gallup Solar Group open community meetings. 6pm at 113 E. Logan. For more information, call Be at 726-2497.

Adult chess club at Camille’s Sidewalk Cafe in Gallup, 5-7pm.

Spay-Neuter Discount Clinic for Low Income Pet Owners at the Gallup McKinley County Humane Society, N. Highway 491. Call 863-2616 for an appointment.

RMCHCS Diabetes Education Classes – First four Tuesdays of the month, starting at 6pm. RMCHCS 2nd floor library. For more information, call 7266918.

Gallup Al-Anon meetings at First United Methodist Church, 1800 Red Rock Drive (next to GIMC). Tuesdays at 12 noon and Thursdays at 7pm in Conference Room #1. Zumba Fitness Dance Class at Foundations of Freedom Dance Studio (115 W. Coal) at 6:30pm. For more information email zumbagallup@ yahoo.com or call Stephanie at (814) 282-6502. Red Rock Chapter ABATE of NM (American Bikers Aimed Towards Education) meets every 4th Tuesday of the month at 6:30pm at Gallup Fire Station #2 (911 N. 9th St.). For more information, call (505) 409-5311, 863-9941 or 870-0951. Capoeira classes offered at Foundations of Freedom Dance Studio, Tuesday and Thursdays at 8pm, $8 (first class FREE). For more information, call Chelsea at 808 344-1417, email info@capoeiraguerreirosnm.com or visit www. capoeiraguerreirosnm.com..

The next Gallup Film Foundation meeting will be held at the Red Mesa Center (105 E. Hill), 6:30-8 pm. For more information, call Carrie (928) 871-4264 / 879-9409. One Block Wonder quilting workshop at Gallup Service Mart, Tuesday January 17, Thursday February 16 and Tuesday March 13, 6 – 9pm $45 plus pattern. This is a three-part class and homework will be assigned between classes. This is a quilt with endless possibilities. Use one fabric to bring out your own personality. Create blocks that will “bloom” into your own designer quilt. Instructor: Marje Polich Level: Confident Intermediate/Advanced. For more information, call 722-9414.

ZUMBA Fitness Classes at Wowie’s Activity Hall on the corner of Maloney and 3rd Street starting at 6:00 p.m. For more information email r_roanhorse@yahoo.com or call Ralph Roanhorse at (505) 862-2970. Zumba Fitness (6-6:45pm), Wai Lana Yoga (7-7:45pm), Meditation and Prayer Circle (88:45pm). Limited space at HealinGifts lobby (807 Metro Ave., Gallup). Suggested love offering: $5.00/event. RSVP please. (505) 863-3772. More info at website: http://store.healingifts. com. Intermediate YOGA classes, 6:45pm at Foundations of Freedom (115 W. Coal). Everyone welcome - $6 suggested donation. For more information, call Gene at (505) 728-8416 or email at gallupyoga@gmail.com. Chanting workshop with Genevieve and Redwulf 2nd and 4th Wednesday each month at the Old School Gallery. Free. Chants from around the world 6-7:30 pm.

PFLAG Gallup Support Meeting, Parents Families Friends of Gays Lesbians and Transgender, 6-8 pm in the RMCH Solarium 3rd Floor (1901 Red Rock Drive, Gallup, NM). For more information, call 505-713-2828 or email gaygallup2010@gmail.com

Submit

Your Event For February TODAY

Deadline: January 20 Call: 722.3399 Email: gallupjourney@yahoo.com

Habitat for Humanity construction materials for sale: range, water heater, tile, doors, windows, sinks, lights, shingles, etc. Call 505-722-4226 for information.

The RMCHCS Diagnostic Imaging Department has extended its MRI hours. The new hours of operation are Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday from 7 am to 7 pm and Wednesdays 7 am to 9 pm. For more information, please call 505-863-7015.

48 gallupjourney@yahoo.com

Ja n u a r y C o m m u n i t y Ca l e n d a r Friday

Thursday ONGOING

Saturday

ONGOING

Tween Crafts (ages 9-13) 4:00pm at the Children’s Library. For more information, call 726-6120.

Movie Day, 3:00 pm at the Children’s Library. Overeaters Anonymous meeting at 11 am, at the First United Methodist Church, 1800 Red Rock Drive, For more information, call 726-6120. library room. Info: Liz 505-863-5928.

Moms Supporting Moms at Church Rock School, 9-11:30am.

Sports Page hosting GLBT Night every Friday! Friday nights will be a place to celebrate and be yourself! For more information contact: Raiff Arviso; rca87121@gmail.com, Sports Page - 1400 S. 2nd St, Gallup, NM (505) 722-3853.

High Desert Mesa Workgroup meets to scrapbook and more Saturdays 10am-1pm at the Rehoboth Post Office. Info: LaVeda 722-9029.

Fall Belly Dance classes, at Foundations of Freedom Dance Studio (115 W. Coal) Fridays at 6:30 - 7:30. One time non-refundable registration fee $20 plus $5 per class. Benefits include stress relief, improved posture/muscle tone, strengthening the core, and bringing your sexy back! For more info, call Leaf @ 722-2491.

Children’s Library Events: 10:30am Preschool Story Time (ages 1-4), 11:30am K-3 Challenge (ages 5-9), 12:30pm Chess Club (ages 7-13), 3pm Drop-in Crafts (ages 3-9). 4pm movie (Jan 7: Beauty and the Beast Jan 14: An American Tail, Jan 21: The Rescuers Down Under, Jan 28: Mary Poppins). For more information, call 726-6120.

Zumba Fitness for fun and health! Limited space at HealinGifts lobby (807 Metro Ave., Gallup), 6pm-6:45 pm. Suggested love offering: $5.00. RSVP please. (505) 863-3772. More info at website: http://store.healingifts. com.

Beginner to advanced beginner YOGA classes, 10-11am at Foundations of Freedom (115 W. Coal). Everyone welcome - $6 suggested donation. For more information, call Gene at (505) 728-8416 or email at gallupyoga@ gmail.com.

High Desert Mesa Workgroup meets to scrapbook and more Thursdays 1-3pm at the Rehoboth Post Office. Info: LaVeda 722-9029. AL-ANON support group for family and friends of alcoholics. Every Thursday at 7pm, first United Methodist Church (library). Info: 1-888-4ALANON or www.al-anon.alateen.org. The weekly Old-Fashioned Hootenanny, at Camille’s Sidewalk Cafe, every Thursday, starting at 6:30PM. Acoustic musicians are welcome to sit in with the regular players. Toastmasters at Earl’s Restaurant, 6:30am. Info: Dale at 722-9420. Substance Abuse Support Group, CASA, at Gallup Church of Christ, 7pm. Info: Darrel at 863-5530. Community Yoga, beginner/athletic beginner level. 6:20 pm, Catholic Charities/CIC. 506 W. Rte. 66. Info: Gene at 505-728-8416. Gallup Al-Anon meetings at First United Methodist Church, 1800 Red Rock Drive (next to GIMC). Tuesdays at 12 noon and Thursdays at 7pm in Conference Room #1. Divorce Care Support Group, Thursdays at 7pm. Location to be determined. For more information, call or email Dan at 505 878-2821 or dkruis@ yahoo.com.

Beginning Sewing Class at Gallup Service Mart, Thursdays January 12, February 9 and March 8, 6 – 9pm, $45 includes handouts and patterns for all three classes. This is a three-part class and will cover topics listed in the description but also topics students request while taking the class. Part 1 will cover “getting to know your sewing machine”. Basic skills such as: how to thread your machine, wind the bobbin, use the various feet (i.e.: buttonhole foot) on your sewing machine and how to care for your sewing machine will be covered. If you wanted to learn how to sew or get to know your machine, this class is for you. Bring your sewing machine to class or borrow one from the store and complete a simple project while you learn your way around your sewing machine, threads, patterns and fabric. Instructor: Debra Jamison Level: Beginner. For more information, call 722-9414. 2nd Thursday of the month Survivors of Homicide Support Group meets 6-8pm. For more information, call Deborah YellowhorseBrown at 870-6126. The Episcopal Church of the Holy Spirit hosts support meetings for Type 1 and Type 2 diabetics from 5:30-6:30 pm on the second and fourth Thursdays at 1334 Country Club Drive in Gallup. Information from the American Diabetes Association will be presented and local health-care professionals will often be available. For more information call 863-4695.

Wai Lana Yoga for relaxation and health! Limited space at HealinGifts lobby (807 Metro Ave., Gallup), 7pm-7:45 pm. Bring your yoga mat. Suggested love offering: $5.00. RSVP please. (505) 863-3772. More info at website: http://store.healingifts.com.

Capoeira Classes at Foundations of Freedom Dance Studio. Kids’ class 11:30am ($5), beginning Portuguese classes 12:30pm, Adults’ class 1:00pm ($8). First class FREE! For information, contact Chelsea 808-344-1417, email info@capoeiraguerreirosnm.com or visit www.capoeiraguerreirosnm.com.

ZUMBA Fitness Classes at Wowie’s Activity Hall on the corner of Maloney and 3rd Street starting at 11:00 a.m. For more information email r_roanhorse@yahoo.com or call Ralph Roanhorse at (505) 862-2970.

RMCHCS College Clinic has Saturday clinic hours from 8:00AM to 12:00PM October through March. The additional clinic hours are for established patients with acute illnesses, appointments preferred but walk-ins accepted. For more information, call RMCHCS College Clinic at 863-1820.

Meditation and Prayer Circle for healing and health! Limited space at HealinGifts lobby (807 Metro Ave., Gallup), 8pm-8:45 pm. Bring your yoga mat. Suggested love offering: $5.00. RSVP please. (505) 863-3772. More info at website: http://store.healingifts. com.

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Care 66 presents the Lexington Hotel Re-Opening, 405 W. Historic Route 66, from 3pm to 5pm. Crownpoint Rug Weavers Association Auction at Crownpoint Elementary School. Viewing at 4 – 6:30 PM, auction at 7 – 10 PM. For more information, visit www.Crownpointrugauction.com.

The City will be collecting old Christmas trees and greens at Larry Brian Mitchell Recreation Center and Ford Canyon during the month of January.

The monthly McKinley Citizens’ Recycling Council Meeting will be held at 508 Sandstone Place in Indian Hills beginning at 2 pm. The public is encouraged to attend. MCRC welcomes your comments and concerns about recycling in our area. Recycling reduces energy consumption, saves our natural resources and space in the landfill. Volunteers are needed to help spread the word in our community. For more information contact Gerald (722-5142) or Betsy (722-9257).

ArtsCrawl, Downtown Gallup, 7-9pm. See page 39 for schedule of events.

Spinning Get Togethers, Sat. Jan. 14 at the Old School Gallery, 1:00 - 4:00 pm, Sat. Feb. 11 at Cindy Blea’s house from 1:00 - 4:00 pm, Thurs. Mar. 8 at Susan McNabb’s house from 10:00 AM - 2:00 pm - Free. If you have wanted to learn to spin but the dates and times have not worked for your schedule, perhaps some of these options of dates and times will. Beginners are welcome and some materials will be available for purchase. Join us and learn this most enjoyable craft. For directions call Cindy Blea (783-2439), Susan McNabb (783-9019).

Friendship International singing “Lift Your Eyes Tour,” sponsored by Wingate Baptist Church at 7 pm. The group is from Chile, South America and will sing their celebration folk music from their homeland and praise and worship (Southern Gospel Community Farewell Open House for Keith and Pat Bulthuis, 2-4 pm in the RMCH Solarium. hymns). Please join them for this Celebration Refreshments will be served. Tour “A New Song International Tour” will be an unforgettable experience. Feel free to invite neighbors and friends. Admission is free and a freewill offering will be taken at the Digital Magic Workshop, 2 - 4 pm at Old School Gallery on Route 53 – FREE. Learn Fun Digital closing of the musical. Magic Tricks (aka photoshopping) & basic image editing techniques. Improve / enhance your digital photographs. FREE editing software. Free drawing for $100 graphics/image editing software. Please Join us for this Fun, Imaginative, Creative, Free Workshop! For more information, call (505) 783-4710.

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Beginners & Beyond Spinning Classes with Elyse Angel, January 26, February 23, and March 22, 10 am - 2 pm at the Oso Ridge Spinning and Weaving School and Fiber Arts Studio, $5 person, per class. Beginners will start on the drop spindle and the intermediates will become more proficient with the craft. There will be drop spindles and wool for purchase or bring your own equipment and fibers. You will need to bring a sack lunch and your own drinks and snacks. Carpooling is a 3possibility. For directions and questions: call Elyse Angel (505 )699-8949 leave a message.

Connections Inc. 100 E. Aztec Gallup, New Mexico offers the following free programs: Access to recovery New Mexico A free substance abuse treatment program. For info: Call Randy at 505-863-3377 Ext: 108 Mon-Fri 8am-5pm Child and Adult Care Food Program Are you babysitting any kids under 13 years old in your home? We can pay you MONEY for the food that you feed the kids in your home. For more Info Please call 505-863-3377 Ext: 105, 102 or 1-800-527-5712 Free Counseling for Children and their Families Mental Health Counseling for issue if divorce, abuse, domestic violence, behavioral problems at home and at school. Contact: 505-863-3377 Ext: 107, 110, 103. Senior Companion Program / Retired and Senior Volunteer Program For more information, Contact Claudette at 505-722-3565 or 505-870-8567

believe • gallup

People read Gallup Journey in the darndest places! send photos to: gallupjourney@yahoo.com or 202 east hill, 87301

Wishing

yo u

well

on your

t r a v e l s

606 E. HWY 66 Gallup, NM (505) 722-3845

50 gallupjourney@yahoo.com

2 1. Wade Campbell, from Gallup, wears his believe. gallup shirt in Mali, West Africa. Although not reading the Journey, the shirt seals the photo! 2. Mattea Lovato, Ramona Carreon, Michelle Lovato, Michael Romero, Quartney Unale, Zack Unale, and David Unale read the Journey at Cloud Gate in Millennium Park in Chicago, Illinois. 3. Jasmin Roman holds up a copy of the Journey on top of Mt. Kilimanjaro (in Tanzania)! 4. On a trip to Colorado, two high school students from Rehoboth Christian School read the Journey while simultaneously admiring the view.

5. Michael Oliver Twist, Michael Ippel, Travis Wyatt, Shadow Warrior, Ryan Postma and Connor Joy read the Journey in front of an In-N-Out Burger . . . it ain’t Glenn’s! 6. M & M’s on the loose! Mr. Hartog regroups his sweet treats for a quick picture on Halloween. Back: (Left to Right) Amber Fierro, Amily Billie, Julie Kastrounis, Jenell George, Kris Gruda, Jenifer Angle. Front: (Left to Right) Christina Gonzalez, Bernice Martin, John Hartog, Isabel Beard. (missing caption from December) Wingate High School Security Officers in front of Alcatraz Island in San Francisco, CA. L - R: Evangeline Holyan, David Plimpton, Bill Becenti Sr, Henry Hildreth Jr and Robert Gallegos Sr.

Wishing

yo u

well

on your

3 4

t r a v e l s

606 E. Hwy 66 Suite B (505) 863-9377

believe â&#x20AC;˘ gallup

INTRODUCING THE REINVENTED

2012 TOYOTA CAMRY.

WHO SAYS RELIABLE CAN’T BE GORGEOUS? AVAILABLE WITH: • EntuneTM multimedia system2 • JBL GreenEdgeTM audio system • Blind Spot Monitor (BSM) 3 • Best-in-class 10 standard airbags 4 • Improved fuel economy in all models; Hybrid with 43 mpg rating 5

BEST-SELLING CAR IN AMERICA1

buyatoyota.com

AMIGO TOYOTA 2000 S. Second, Gallup (505) 722-3881 Prototype vehicle shown with options. Production model may vary. 1MotorIntelligence.com, CY 2010 sales. 2 Be sure to obey traffic regulations and maintain awareness of road and traffic conditions. Select Entune™ apps use a large amount of data and you are responsible for all data charges. Apps and services vary by phone and carrier. Apps identified by “TM” or “®” are trademarks or registered trademarks of their respective companies and cannot be used without permission. See toyota. com/entune for the latest information regarding apps and services. 3 Do not rely exclusively on the Blind Spot Monitor to determine if a lane change is safe. Always look over your shoulder and use your turn signal before changing lanes. There are several limitations to the function, detection, range and clarity of the monitor. For a complete list of limitations and directions regarding use of the monitor, please see the Owner’s Manual. 4 Based on manufacturers’ data. 5 2012 Toyota Camry Hybrid LE preliminary 43 city/39 highway mpg estimates determined by Toyota. EPA estimates not available at time of printing. Actual mileage will vary.

52 gallupjourney@yahoo.com

Glenn’s

Breakfast Lunch Dinner We’ve Got you covered. 505-722-4104, 900 W. HWY 66 • w w w . g l e n n s b a k e r y. c o m

believe • gallup

Musi Music

This Is Our Job:

54 gallupjourney@yahoo.com

icians/ Activists C

harlene “Chucki” Begay and Richie Anderson live for music. Anderson admits that when music became Number One, he lost hundreds of jobs because of it. Practicing and performing always took priority. Begay recalls singing her first solo at a Christmas program when she was twelve. She had to walk three miles to the school with her brother to get to the performance. “I sung my heart out; it was worth it,” she says of the sacrifice. Music is a tough business – “cutthroat” – but there’s nothing like “the energy exchange between the fans and band when the music is alive,” according to Anderson. Begay is the lead singer and Anderson, the lead guitarist, of Chucki Begay and Mother Earth Blues Band. The band plays as often as possible and has enjoyed being part of the 2011 Native American Music Award (Nammy) win for Best Compilation Recording. However, it’s been a long road to get to this point. Loving music isn’t enough. Success has come with years of experience, dedication, and a lot of heart and soul. When he was eighteen, Anderson won a scholarship to attend the Guitar Institute of Technology in Hollywood, California, where he studied under Frank Gambale and Paul Gilbert. For about ten years, he played and toured with several bands, honing his skills and developing his “bluesy soulful” style. Since 1996, he has been the front man for the Mother Earth Blues Band. Begay’s music career began more recently, although she’s loved music since she was a young girl singing hymns in church. Chucki’s first CD, Songs From My Heart was released in 2007, and she was nominated in 2008 for a Nammy for Debut Artist of the Year. Though Chucki and the band continue to take their music to the next level, Begay and Anderson have also created a non-profit organization to help expose at-risk youth, on the Navajo Reservation and beyond, to the positive power of music. Through Music is Medicine Inc., they teach kids and adults how to play instruments of their choosing and how to use music as a tool for healing and for making good life choices. Begay and Anderson are raising awareness and funds for the organization, and have high hopes for the potential it has to help support at-risk youth. Music made a difference in their lives and they want others to be able to have the same positive experiences. For more information and to listen to Chucki Begay and Mother Earth Blues Band, check out myspace.com/chuckibegay.

TOOLS OF THE TRADE - - - - - - - -

God support from family and friends band love of music talent commitment determination sound equipment and instruments (Richie is pictured with his 1974 USA Fender Telecaster, signed by the original 29 Navajo Code Talkers)

Richardson’s Trading Co. Since 1913

505.722.4762 • 505.722.9424 fax • rtc@cnetco.com 222 W. Hwy. 66 • Gallup, NM 87301 www.richardsontrading.com

Gallup Senior of the Month

Elsie Ferrari Bernabe Elsie Ferrari Bernabe was born in Gallup to Italian immigrants. She has fond memories of growing up in Gibson, then Gallup, and raising three children here. Elsie started the first coin-operated laundry in town, called The Thrifty Clean Laundromat and has been involved in many civic organizations throughout the years. She is still active with the RMCHCS Auxiliary. Elsie celebrates her 90th birthday this month. She’s loved her life here and says, “We never left Gallup, which was good for me.” This Gallup Senior of the Month is sponsored by the Rosebrough Law Firm T: (505) 722-9121 F: (505) 722-9490 101 W. Aztec Ave., Suite A Gallup, NM 87301

Estate Planning Business Law Employment Law

The

Rosebrough Law Firm, P.C.

believe • gallup

Did You Know? Historic Downtown Gallup has a great selection of

Retail and Retail Services

Our Retailers

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66 Laundry Adam and Eve Aztec Floral Bill’s Reloading Supplies Carousel City Electric Shoe Shop CNet Computer Sales and Services Downtown Flea Market Elite Laundry Elsie’s Flower Shop Flower Basket Frame ‘n Art Gallup Fabric Shop Gallup Limb and Brace Co. Gallup Mobile Home and Appliance

Gallup Printing and Office Supply Gallup Service Mart Gallup Trading Company Grooming by Shannon Hidden Treasurers and More Hobby’s, Etc. La Montanita Co-op Macias Floor Covering Max’s Tattoo Zone NM Pottery Company Quick Print and Copy Red Rock Beef Jerky Sound Advice Hearing Aids Trading Post News Trice’s Western Wear Uniform Station Zimmerman's Western Wear

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