By Bob Rosebrough

As a nine-year-old in Gallup Little League, Phil Garcia had been using a three-fingered glove and “it was horrible.”  When he was ten, Phil convinced his parents that he needed the brand new nine-dollar glove he had scouted out at Gallup Sporting Goods.

Jack Tarro (left) and Phil Garcia reminisce.

Phil says, “I came out of the sporting goods store and who do I see but Jack Tarro, who was sweeping the sidewalks at First State Bank and Western Union, and he says, ‘Hey, do you want to come to practice with me?  My Little League team is practicing at 9:00.’  I said, ‘Heck yeah.’  It was a chance to use my new glove and throw a ball around, so I did.  I completely spaced out time and was with Jack all day.”  By the time Phil got home, his mother was frantically calling to enlist friends for a search . . . and a friendship between Phil and Jack, that has lasted for over fifty years, had been forged.

The first Gallup Little Leaguers under the lights.  Jack and Phil played Little League at an exciting time – perhaps the golden age of youth baseball in Gallup.  As Jack and Phil talk, they remember names of teammates and stars (like Jay Olive, Tommy Yepes, Tommy Pino, Rick Bennett, Harold Husband, George Martinez, Mike Luchetti, Bob Tilman, Bobby Jordan, Marty and Mickey Menapace, Durwood Cline, and Allen Piano), coaches, referees, team sponsors, and stories as if the events happened last week.  Jack says, “The whole community rallied around that ballpark.”  At the time, Stafie Memorial Park was being built in Ford Canyon and Henderson Park behind Lincoln Elementary School was being abandoned.

Jack says, “I remember when they built that place.  My step-father (Frank Martinelli) built the dugouts and the Kozeliskis donated the concrete.  All the parents were there every night in the concession stand and they would go around to the parked trucks and cars and collect quarters and dimes.  They had to pay for everything.”

Phil adds, “They paid for the lights. They had to pay for the electricity that they used.  So they had to raise some money.”  Phil remembers his coach Porky Abeita saying, “Gentlemen, you have the privilege of being the first team to play under the lights in Gallup, New Mexico.”  “And that was a big deal,” Phil adds.

The Dodgers. Jack Tarro middle of back row with glasses.

“They thought Tommy was dead.”  Jack and Phil take turns telling stories about the action on the field.  Phil talks about winning a City Championship against the Cubs, and their star Tommy Yepes, even though they were outmatched.

Phil’s Yankees were behind a couple of runs late in the game with runners on base.  “Steve Yurcic lobbed a fly ball to center right.  Tommy Yepez was the centerfielder.  It wasn’t his ball, but he tried to make a spectacular catch, misjudged the ball, and it hit him on the head and bounded off, knocked him out cold.  All the runners scored.  They were so demoralized that we won the game because they had last bats, but you know, everybody rushed on the field.  (Phil speaks in a serious tone)  They thought Tommy was dead.  I mean they really thought that he had been hurt badly, and he probably was.  I bet he had a concussion.  He had to have.  At any rate, he revived, but the Cubs were so shook up by that, that they didn’t get any runs that last inning and we won the City Championship!”

Joe Caretto hid the ball in his pants.  Jack tells a story about a missed call by umpire Matt Plese “who was one of the nicest guys you would ever meet in your life.”  Jack was on the mound pitching against the Braves who were coached by Dr. Milam.  There was a play at home plate for the final out.  The catcher missed the ball, but it looked like he caught it.  Matt says, ‘You’re out!’” Speaking in an excited tone, Jack says, “I remember Dr. Milam went ballistic.  And Joe Caretto, he runs over there and grabs the ball and puts it in his pants!”

Phil asks, “To hide it?”

“Yes, to hide it!” says Jack and they both laugh.  “But Matt was insistent that that guy’s out and I think it was because we weren’t real good and we were beating the best team.  Matt was going to make sure we won.”  Jack laughs again.

Mayor Munoz recieves the opening ball from Eddie Kozeliski.

A drink with Ronald Reagan at the El Rancho.  As kids, Jack lived on Hill Street off of Ford Canyon Drive and Phil lived on Burke so at times they made the El Rancho their playground.  Jack says, “We used to go there and literally play all day.”

Phil says, “The El Rancho was big.”  Jack echoes, “The El Rancho was huge!”

“During the day the movie stars would throw money in the wishing well.  Well, at night we’d empty it,” Jack says.  “They had a pinball baseball game.  When they weren’t looking we drilled a hole in the side.”

“Nooo,” Phil says incredulously.

“And you could get a clothesline and run it through when they weren’t looking.  We’d run up the score to get free games.  We’d run that thing up to about twenty games!”

“No kidding,” says Phil and they both laugh.  “How come you didn’t show me that?”

“It was a secret,” Jack says.

They laugh again, but Phil has his own secret.  “Well, we used to go play and we used to file down pennies to the size of a dime so we could play for free.”

Neither Phil nor Jack remembers running into movie stars, but Phil tells a story about his dad having a drink with Ronald Reagan at the El Rancho.  “Reagan had just finished making Knute Rockne All American.  He played the Gipper and my dad said, ‘Oh, the damn fool.  He thought he was a real football player.  He was telling us about the plays and stuff.  He didn’t play football ever.’ But my dad says he had a drink with him.”  Phil laughs and then in an animated tone says his father – a lifelong, staunch Democrat – added, “And he’s a damn Republican.”

“The bear ate my partner.”  Jack asks Phil to tell a story about two partners in Kitchen’s Opera House.  He says to Phil, “Tell him about Kitchen.  He had a partner.”

Phil says, “I saw something up at District Court once and I tried to find it for Frank Martinelli years later and couldn’t find the darn thing. As the story goes, Peter Kitchen had a partner by the name of Shorty Driscoll and apparently there was an uneasiness about the partnership.  Peter Kitchen when up to McGaffey hunting bear and his partner Shorty Driscoll didn’t come back.”

Jack asks, “Didn’t he say a bear ate him?”

Phil says, “Yeah.  He said the bear ate him and they didn’t have a body.  (Phil laughs)  And so he was acquitted.”

Jack says,  “Yeah, Kitchen said, ‘He went hunting with me and this bear got him and took him away.’”  (Jack laughs)

Phil says, “Ate him.  The bear ate him.  ‘The bear ate my partner.’  That’s what it was.  That was the defense. ‘And now I’m the sole owner of the opera house.’”  Phil and Jack both laugh.

Coming in June:  BASILIO BROUGHT IN THE GRAPES, GALLUP HIGH V. CATHEDRAL, “SAVE THE MULES FIRST; THEN GET THE MINERS”, HERSHEY RETURNS TO A HERO’S WELCOME and SHUTTING DOWN UNM AFTER THE KENT STATE SHOOTINGS

It all began with a simple prayer. “Dear Lord, please help us to show the people in our community that we care about them just as you have done for us.” Then an idea that began as a small seed blossomed into a community-wide event, garnering citywide support, and reaching far beyond its original boundaries.  The Gallup All Nations Seventh-Day Adventist Church had no idea that when making a commitment to love as Jesus had loved while on earth that so many hearts could be touched from such a simple act.

“]

Mitchel sits with his dog as they seek to find money to help them with food and necessities. [Photo by Darah Varga

They obviously knew that Jesus had not cared for the multitudes in His time by taking their pictures; but He did feed the 5000, heal the sick, walk among the unloved, and leave a command to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. And this is how the idea for Photos for Smiles was conceived.

This small but vibrant church sought to do just as Jesus had done on earth. They began contacting every organization in Gallup and the surrounding communities that reached out to the less fortunate or the underserved. They invited those that they served to come and be shown love for one day – one simple day where the act of kindness was the main focus.

“]

Mitchel and Iroquois pose for their first professional portrait. [Photo by Windsong Studios

Mitchel and countless others who attend Photos for Smiles are able to come into the doors of the Gallup All Nations Seventh-Day Adventist Church during the day of the event and release all of their concerns and burdens. They are not looked at as the beggar on the street, the struggling single mother, or burdened with any other kind of label. They are treated as honored guests, and everything during the event is geared to making sure their experience is a wonderful one.

From donated refreshments and clothing, kids activities, hair stylists and makeup artists, to walking out the door with their professionally printed portrait on the following Tuesday, this event focuses on their needs.

Community Involvement
The inspiring thing about a community that has heart is when something small, like Photos for Smiles, begins to take root and a community – this community – takes notice. Within days of the conception of the event, professional photographer, Larry Lucier of Windsong Studios had committed his studio’s time and talents to help make the day special for the underserved and less fortunate. Within only a few more days the word had spread to Mike Lunan, manager of the UPS Packaging and Print store, and he along with the other employees were eager to volunteer their services to provide the printing of all portraits. These businesses along with countless other people and organizations stepped up immediately to provide all the services, refreshments and the many other pieces that have gone into making this day a success for their community.

“]

A group of local residents fellowshipping during last month’s family hike up Pyramid Rock. [Photo by Darah Varga

And that is exactly what this church is doing. Beyond the Photos for Smiles event, the caring and fellowship doesn’t stop. One day is a great start, but the list of other services offered to the community is and has been ongoing. From group hikes every first Saturday of the month to cooking classes and health seminars, the mission of the Gallup All Nations Seventh-Day Adventist Church is clear: to feed the needs . . . all the needs of their community.

Loving as Jesus loved can be a seemingly huge task, but learning to take it one simple step at a time can be seen in action with events like Photos for Smiles.

For information on Photos for Smiles or upcoming hikes and fellowship opportunities: www.facebook.com/GallupAllNationsSeventhDayAdventistChurch
www.gallupallnations22.adventistchurchconnect.org

The author on a ride in Rwanda.

Dr. Lopez walked slowly into the room. His every move seemed deliberate as he set a folder on the counter and gently sat down. He leaned forward towards me, clasped his hands, and said, “Scott, you can’t afford to hit your head again . . . you’re at risk, too many bad things could happen. We think you’re done racing.”

[long pause]
The silence in the room that day hasn’t left me. I hadn’t even known what a “TBI” was, but now was labeled as a victim of having one – or in fact, a few. Before that day I only called them concussions. But, apparently, these injuries have a cumulative effect. If you endure enough of a head injury, an ordinary bike crash could put you in a helicopter on a flight for life.

That day Dr. Lopez’s words forced me to turn a different direction. I was no longer allowed to be the racer guy that I had become; I had to find a new path. I had to find a new hobby, a new vocation. The one question (that I seemed to be the last person willing to answer) was this: did my love for the bike need to stop, or was the bike something that I was able to take with me?

Without answers I was still out on the bike. On a slow, late afternoon opportunity to ride with Tom Ritchey, pioneer and inventor of the mountain bike, I wrestled with the questioned. Tom was a co-founder of an organization called Project Rwanda that provided custom-made coffee bikes designed to help Rwandans transport their produce quicker to the markets. Project Rwanda was also behind the creation of the national road cycling team, Team Rwanda.

Tom and I rolled past his ranch in northern California. The rugged, twisted road traveled down to the coastline. As we chatted, I said with lament, “Every time I get on the bike, I’m reminded I’m not racing. What do you do with that? How do you ever retire from bike racing?” We went through a few more switchbacks; I awaited his response. Eventually Tom said admittingly, “Every time you get on the bike, you have to retire from racing.”

I wasn’t ready, but I was forced to let go. How is it that you can let go of something while, at the same time, find a way of holding onto it? Is that possible? A few weeks later I received an email from Tom. This time he offered a different kind of answer to my question. “Have you ever thought of going to Rwanda?” his statement read.

Note: in the movie Inception, the character Don Cobb (played by Leonardo DiCaprio) stated something that, at the time, seemed to work for both mine and the character’s plot lines: “Never create dreams from places you’ve been before. Always imagine new places.” It was then I realized I had to do something more radical than stay in Sonoma County, California. Nearly 2 years later I realized if I was going to hang onto the bike, I needed to go to Rwanda.

Neither my wife Jennifer nor I had ever imagined Ruhengeri, Rwanda. But, upon landing in the heart of Africa, suddenly we didn’t need to. Ruhengeri was where we were to live and train with the riders of Team Rwanda for the next few months. Jonathan (Jock) Boyer, the Team coach and manager, picked us up at the Kigali airport and drove us 60 miles north to where we would hold weekly training camps. Riders would ride in from as far away as 100 miles. We would have them train for three days, and then on Friday, before our waking hours, the riders would disappear early to ride home again.

We ate meals together, and watched road-racing DVDs on a small computer; we’d try to discuss the nuances of race tactics. Jennifer assisted in doing a little of everything, including the occasional, nightly English lesson. The short-term goals while we were there were all to do with the preparation for the upcoming African Continental Championships that were being held later that year in Rwanda (a milestone for Rwandan cycling itself). The championship race would decide what 2 countries would receive a bid for the upcoming 2012 Olympic road cycling race beside the countries of South Africa and Morocco that had already qualified. In a country smaller than most U.S. states with about 9 million people, in a country nearly destroyed in the 1994 genocide, bike racing had been born. In the long term, cycling offered Rwanda and its people a road away from their past. What lay ahead for these riders was an opportunity to put themselves on stage with the rest of the world and, in doing so, take their countrymen with them.

My first ride was with Gasore Hategeka, a survivor of the genocide. Gasore had a deep, layered story. For my first ride, Gasore came by himself to the team headquarters. Illiterate and speaking only Kinrwanda, Gasore forged his way onto Team Rwanda. He was an orphan from the age of 7 and had no schooling; he spent his childhood hauling 100-lb. sacks of potatoes from the fields, making roughly 30¢ or 40¢ a day. But long before he ever saved enough money for a bicycle, Gasore told The New Yorker journalist Phillip Gourevitch through translation, “I always had the image of the bicycle.”

The small amount of money that Gasore made allowed him to pay for bike lessons at the local markets. For a few Rwandan francs, Gasore would rent the bikes of the local bike taxi riders and take a few minutes to practice, racing around the market. Eventually Gasore saved enough money and bought one of the bags of potatoes he carried from the fields. Gasore took these potatoes and planted them in a field left to him from his deceased father. This crop yielded four times the amount of his original purchase and he sold the potatoes for the money to buy his first bike, a 30-lb. steel, single-speed made in India.

Tour of Rwanda

On the road between Ruhengeri and Gasore’s hometown, Gasore would wait for the riders of Team Rwanda. They would pass by on their weekly training rides. As the team riders would approach, Gasore would jump on their wheels and hold on to the pace as long he could and time his improvements. Over time Gasore stripped the unnecessary, welded parts from his bike, making both him and his bike lighter and faster. One day he got the attention of Nyonwe, one of Team Rwanda’s original riders. Nyonwe invited him to test at the team headquarters and the test results sent Gasore home with a new (to him) race bike that day – something that he, obviously, had never had before. Not more than a week later, Gasore jumped in his first regional race, turning heads by riding into fourth place against a number of Rwanda’s experienced cyclists.

That day Gasore and I headed toward his home. Under the backdrop of the surrounding volcanoes, we passed hundreds of people either laboring in the fields or on foot carrying their harvest to the markets. “Muzungu (white person)!” people would yell as they saw me. But as we got further up the road and closer to Gasore’s home, people began yelling “Gasore! Gasore!” We reached the edge of his town when Gaso’ smiled and pointed to his chest. He looked at me and proudly said, “Mine.”

We flipped around and headed toward Ruhengeri. Gasore again broke the silence and said, “Tour of Cameroon, number one.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I said. “Jock told me. You won at Cameroon, Rwanda’s first international win. Good job!”

Gasore then said something that I came all the way to hear. Over the next three months I would only begin to understand what he really meant; it was something that I had to see to truly understand. Gasore pointed down at my bike, he said, “It’s a good machine, a good machine.”

To see and hear more about Team Rwanda, please join us for the one-time-only screening of
Rising From Ashes, The Movie
The impossible triumph of Team Rwanda

Saturday, May 11 @ 6PM at El Morro Theatre

Tickets available at the door or by PayPal payment to:
risingfromashesgallup@gmail.com

$5 for Students and/or 17 and under
$10 for Adults

By Chuck Van Drunen

Treena and Kevin Edwards had been coaching gymnastics for twenty years in Oregon, and have had  the fortunate opportunity to work closely with some of the professional-level coaches in the sport. It was their dream to someday have their own gymnastics business, but they did not want to open a competing gym close to their mentors in Oregon.  So when the possibility of owning their own gymnastics business in Taos, NM was offered, they decided to go for it.  Unfortunately Taos is not Gallup.   Taos proved to be difficult with drama and difficulties concerning a competing gym.  Although Taos was ideal for Treena who has family in nearby Colorado, it soon became obvious that it was not going to work.

Meanwhile Gallup had just lost its gymnastics classes, and students were traveling to Albuquerque to continue their training.  Another move for the Edwards family was not ideal considering they have seven kids ages three to nineteen, but they decided to come to Gallup and fill the void and have recently started Flyaway Gymnastics.

Treena started doing gymnastics when she was six and worked her way up to a Class 1 competitor while Kevin also took gymnastics at a young age to compliment his soccer career.  In terms of philosophy Treena says, “I believe gymnastics helps build self-esteem in kids, it also helps build coordination and balance, which improves kids’ skills in just about any other sport.”

Classes are held at rented space in the Miyamura High School welding shop, across from the football field.  Flyaway Gymnastics is currently offering classes for ages three and up, including team competitions.  For more information, call 575-613-3256 or go to flyawaygym.com.

“There is no such thing as coincidence.”
Detective Harry Bosch,
Harry Bosch Crime Novels by Michael Connelly

I did not grow up in Gallup, although I am a native New Mexican.  Many times I have been asked by others, “How did you end up in Gallup?”  I always say Divine Providence, and, as I grow older, I think it is true.

It was not an auspicious beginning.  My best friend in law school convinced me to help him continue the law practice of John Perry, who had come to Gallup forty years before after Harvard Law School.  I had a fellowship to study at Cambridge in England, but I turned it down to come to Gallup. When I arrived in January of 1977, it was during our cold winter cycle, and I was forced to buy an overcoat for the first time in my life.  As I trudged through the snow to work, I wondered what I was doing here.  Then at Easter that year, our office burned down while I was out of town.  I still remember soaking documents to separate pages that had been glued together by the fire department and trying to salvage law books and furniture.  Maybe it was time to leave this cold, dark place and start over somewhere else. And yet . . .

From the very beginning there was a quality and charm about the people who live in Gallup.  I grew up in a small town, but I have to say that the people of Gallup were more friendly and hospitable than any I have experienced elsewhere.  As an example, I was single and soon all the mothers of Gallup were lining up single women for me to date.  It was a humbling experience.  I was unable to accept all of the invitations.

One day I needed information quickly about Navajo history, and that day I met a Gallup icon, Octavia Fellin, at the Gallup Public Library.  She found what I needed in her special collection and saved the day.  It seemed to me that I had that sort of experience on a weekly basis as I began to meet the incredible people of Gallup.  I needed to learn about the pawn business, and Bill Richardson practically adopted me and generously shared his years of experience in that business. I wanted to buy a house, and before I could contact a realtor, Wally Leach of Gallup Printing and Office Supply found the perfect house for me. When our office burned down, Frank Rice at Merchant’s Bank called and wanted to know how he could help finance the rebuilding of the law office.  (Certainly that is not a common occurrence in today’s world.)   I had a probate case in which the heirs lived in Italy.  The famous Italian barber Modesto DeSantis dropped everything he was doing and came to my office to act as a translator on a phone conference to Italy.  As a newcomer to Gallup, all of these people and many others made me feel very much at home.

It became clear to me that if you wanted to make a difference in people’s lives around you, it was possible to do that in Gallup.  When I came to Gallup, there was no rehabilitation center and many bars had over served their customers, which caused many problems in their neighborhoods.  Eventually, with the support of many Gallup citizens, the misuses of these liquor licenses were reduced or eliminated, and the atmosphere in Gallup improved.  There were two hospitals in town that were losing money, and a merger brought the two groups together that had never really worked as one.  One or two balloon enthusiasts thought they could organize a balloon rally and attract others to the beautiful red rocks, and that rally just celebrated its 32nd year.  Two guys from the Midwest started a monthly publication to promote the positive side of Gallup, and they are beyond 100 issues and going strong.  The list goes on and on.

You never know whom you might meet in Gallup, New Mexico. To say that Gallup is a melting pot of cultures is an understatement.  The Italians, the Croatians, the strong Hispanic families, the Navajos, the Zunis and even the Hopis make Gallup an incredible place to live. And then there is Route 66.  I have met hundreds of people from around the world at the El Rancho and Sammy C’s Rockin’ Sports Pub and Grill – these crazy Germans and Frenchmen riding Harleys from Chicago to LA all summer and fall.  On the same night I met the Ice Road Trucker and Bo Diddley, Jr. One day at work a new client introduced himself and informed me that he spoke very little English and a whole lot of Polish.  We managed to get through the interview.  My wife met the cast of Superman and helped push paper mache rocks down on Lois Lane in Superman Canyon.  I have learned by taking Navajo classes why the Japanese did not have a chance to break the Code Talkers’ code.  Only in Gallup would you meet venerated Navajo Marines who were Code Talkers who helped defeat the Japanese and our Medal of Honor winner, Hershey Miyamura, who is of Japanese heritage.  Only Gallup would stand up against the United States government and refuse to allow its Japanese-Americans to be interred.  Only in Gallup would dusty, seemingly useless trails become a nationally recognized mountain bike venue and become the Adventure Capital of New Mexico. Only in Gallup would Christians of all denominations come to serve Native Americans.   Only in Gallup would I meet Mother Teresa, not once but twice.  But that is another story.

I am probably preaching to the choir, but I am glad I withstood the bitter cold that winter and bought that overcoat.  After meeting my wonderful wife here and raising five children, one cat and numerous dogs, Gallup is home to me now, and I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

Well, here we are, right smack in the best part of tennis season — with cool mornings, little wind or rain and no tennis players to play with? Doggone it, I love tennis! I’m not sure why it is that I have such a hard time finding someone who will play with me.

Photo by Vladsinger

After all, I have most of the equipment I need. I wear real tennis shoes and unless it’s too cold, I also wear shorts. It might be better not to discuss my stylish shorts. There was a time, maybe 25 years ago, when I wore a tennis skirt, and looking back now, it might have been 20 years too long to have done that. I usually have a can of tennis balls, often not completely dead. I have a tennis bag, even though the zipper is broken, and in that bag there is a racket, and it isn’t even one of those old wooden rackets. Although it is about five years old, it is one of those new-fangled light-weight titanium rackets. I use titanium balls, too. Now if I just had a titanium body, maybe someone would play with me . . .

Okay, maybe it is the racket that’s the problem. I’ve heard rumors that rackets have something called a sweet spot in the middle of the strings, but mine doesn’t have one. Perhaps since I bought my racket on sale, it didn’t come with one of those thingies. Apparently that costs extra. However, the price did include the frame, the neck, and the handle, so I make sure to use those liberally to hit the ball while playing, in addition to the strings, especially the frame. After all, I paid for the whole racket, so I should use it all, shouldn’t I? Maybe one of these days I can afford a racket with one of those sweet spot things. Maybe then someone will play with me.

I try to make tennis more challenging, so I play a sort of “mental tennis.” THIS IS NOT EASY. It involves closing your eyes when you’re ready to hit the ball. Or it could be looking my opponent(s) in the eye(s) when I hit the ball. After all, ANYONE can hit a ball if his/her eyes are constantly watching the ball. That’s no challenge. See, you close your eyes so you can visualize exactly where the ball will go when you hit it. It should work, and I’m not sure why it doesn’t. Aren’t athletes told to “visualize” their moves all the time? Besides, I told you about my racket coming with a frame. It’s easy to hit the ball with strings, anyone can do that, so I use the frame a lot – that’s much harder, and I certainly get my money’s worth out of it.

With our group (the four who can play on any given day), one of the hardest things, other than making actual contact between the ball and the racket, is keeping track of the score. It’s not that we don’t know how to keep score, or even that we don’t know whether you should be serving from the deuce court or the ad court at any certain point in the game, it’s that if the point goes on too long, the only thing we might remember is who won that point. We also have difficulties at times remembering whose turn it is to serve or which side to serve from . . . and after wandering around the court looking for errant balls, who can remember?

Because of age or possibly lack of skill, I’ve tried to institute a rule, which I call the “senior discount” rule. The way that would work is that if anyone over 70 (both of us) hits the ball within 3 to 6 inches of the outside lines, it should be called in. It seems only fair since we’re obviously playing with a handicap. I’d even be willing to give those over 60 a break and let them have an inch over the line.

There are other rules I’ve tried to invoke with no success, like the other team not being able to hit the ball between the over-70 pair, or over our short heads, but all to no avail. Those youngsters we play with have no sense of equity. We’ve even played with high school students, when they can stop laughing long enough to take us seriously, but they have no pity. However, some have learned the hard way that we might not be able to hit as hard or accurately as they can, but we’re trickier. We know when to call a ball out.

Not only do we play women’s doubles when we can, but we also play mixed doubles if we can cajole a couple of guys to join us. There are a couple of guys who have succumbed to our pleading and play at least once a week – my hubby being one of them. When I play, I make liberal use of the word, “Yours!” That way I keep my partner involved and avoid blame for shots that don’t get returned. Even if I yell “Mine!” I can change it to “Yours!” immediately if it turns out I can’t reach it. It works for me.

One of the rules of tennis is that at no time during the point can you actually touch the net, except with the ball, of course. One time when hubby and I were playing another couple, he ran so hard for the ball he couldn’t stop and ran into the net. He grabbed the top and flipped over to land on the other side. Our opponent deadpanned, “He touched the net.”

It’s a well-known fact of tennis that the more time you have to return the ball, the worse the return will be. If the ball comes right to you when you’re playing net, it’s some sort of physics law assuring that your return will go off to the side where the opponents can’t reach it, but just barely out.

Tennis can be a dangerous sport other than getting hit by the ball. I’ve also fallen on the court when, too enthusiastically, I’ve leaped for the ball. Okay, I say leaped like I actually got off the ground, but leaping for me is maybe going up on my toes and raising up my shoulders or something. Or perhaps I’ve just tried to twist in a way my body doesn’t go any more. Fortunately, most tennis injuries don’t prevent one from playing, in a day or week or month or so.

There’s just something about whacking that ball that helps get rid of tensions. Apparently an occasional whack of the ball at an opponent can have its satisfactions, too, since we’ve all been hit on occasion. Oh, not on purpose.  Well, mostly not on purpose.

Tennis is a challenging game and only gets more so the older the players get, speaking of myself, of course. So do you think before it’s too late, that, maybe, someone . . . anyone . . . would play with me?

By Tommy Haws

Recently I was invited to participate in an uncomfortable situation.  I was asked to consider my own mortality.  Aging and retirement are in each of our futures.  Every time my mother had a birthday and was a little older, she would comment, “It’s better than the alternative.”  Even she, now, has experienced the alternative.

How do we plan for something that at once is very enticing – looking forward to the time when we do not have to work every day – and very frightening – what if the money runs out, what about aging, long term care, etc.? For most of us, it is just easier to pretend it’s not ever coming and live in our current world.  The reality is that each of us must plan for the future.  The good news is it does not have to be painful to do so, if you follow a few basic principles.

Get Started
There is a story told of a couple that bought a large home on some land that needed a lot of attention.  As they started the process of clearing old brush and vegetation, trimming trees and thinning the yard, they started a large pile of branches, stumps and brush in the back of the home.  Over several years, they added to the pile.  It grew until it was a very large eyesore as well as a home for unwanted critters.  Then news arrived that the community they were part of was going to be hauling all of this type of unwanted material away for free and mulch it for the public parks.  The only catch was that it needed to be at the curbside for the free service to pick it up.

The couple began to devise plans to move the large pile to the curbside.  They tried pushing.  Then they tried pulling.  Then they thought a large tarp could be used to drag the pile.  Tractors would tear up the beautiful lawn, so they dismissed that one quickly.  How were they going to address this concern?  Then, like all common-sense solutions seem to come, a bolt out of the blue hit them.  Just move the pile like it got there, a bit at a time – one piece at a time.

The couple then started the task, branch-by-branch and bit-by-bit.  It took some time, but less than they expected.  They moved the pile over the course of a couple of days and the problem was solved.

But the lesson in this was that no idea, however simple or grand, can ever happen without some action.  They just needed to get started.

The same thing happens to us as we contemplate retirement planning or other things that might seem too insurmountable now.  Move the pile by just getting started.

Easiest money to save is money you never see
If your employer offers a retirement plan such as a 401K, make sure that you use it.  Have the money deducted before you ever see it in your check.  This money is so easy to save since there are no problems in being tempted to use it on today’s needs when it is earmarked for tomorrow’s instead.

If you do not have an employer to do that, I suggest that you have it taken out by your bank on a certain day each month.  It can be swept to an IRA or a savings account on a regular basis.  IRAs are an excellent way to save because they too have penalties attached for their premature use.  This allows us to save for the future without that temptation to use it before it’s time.

Consult a professional
Financial planners can help you come up with a game plan based on your circumstances, your needs, your wants and your plans.  It is important that you tell them all you need so that there is a way to enhance the opportunities for meeting those goals.

Some rules of thumb, however, are to plan on living on about 70% of your final year’s annual income and living longer than what your parents might have seen.  People are living longer, which has resulted in most of the workforce working longer.  Factor those into the equation.  You can also decide whether or not you want to rely on whether Social Security will be in place to supplement what you save, because Social Security alone will not be sufficient to live on if it is still there.

Start early and be persistent
The earlier you start, the more likely you will be to be able to meet your goals.  The longer we wait, the harder the pile is to move.  Persistence is also part of the program; make sure that it is just as important to pay your future self as it is to pay your bills, etc. now.  You might need to sacrifice some things in the short term, but your later years will be more comfortable if you are steady in your planning and actions.

Summary
Just like that pile of branches was not going to move itself, our future is not going to work itself out, either.

One more quick analogy.  When I was a young boy, I had the chance to help my brother build a home on the La Plata highway north of Farmington, NM.  My nephews and I would stay overnight up there even when others headed back to town 20 miles away.  In the hot summer days, we would swim and play in the relatively calm La Plata River that ran through the property.  We loved to make boats out of branches or leftover 2x4s from the construction.  We would make sails, etc. for the boats, but they really just followed the current.  We would race the boats across an imaginary finishing line and retrieve them and go again.

There was no control, just the current and the path of least resistance to determine where those vessels would end up.  When allowed to go far enough, most of them just ended up in a little whirlpool or eddy along the bank of a bend in the river.  There they would just stir and spin, going nowhere.

Our future, if left without a rudder or power source, often ends up the same way – stuck going in circles and not where we wanted it to be.  When we do not plan for the future, we are like those toy boats of my youth, subject to outside forces to determine its destiny.  You either act or you are acted upon – that is a law of the universe.

Choose to act and not be an object that is acted upon.  Choose to move your pile of branches, so to speak, and plan for the future, because, whether you want it to or not, it is coming!

By Larry Larason

Image by me

Here’s a good trivia question: Which chemical element was discovered before anyone knew it existed on Earth?  That seems impossible, doesn’t it?  Scientists usually found an element, studied it in their laboratories, and then announced the discovery.  Helium was different.

So where was this element discovered?  Its name gives a hint: On the sun.  How was it discovered?  By spectroscopy.  When chemicals are heated to incandescence they emit light in specific wavelengths of the color spectrum.  Each element has a unique spectral signature, like a fingerprint, for that element.  In 1868 two scientists observed the sun and spotted new spectral lines.  The French scientist, Jules Janssen, had traveled to India to observe a solar eclipse; he spotted a yellow signature line in his spectroscope when he focused on the solar corona during the eclipse.   Norman Lockyer observed the same thing from England later that same year while he observed the sun through cloudy, smoky skies.  Lockyer knew it was a new element, which he assumed existed only on the sun.  He named it helium in honor of the Greek god of the sun, Helios.  The “-ium” ending implies the element is a metal, which Lockyer believed, but it is not metallic.  It is a noble gas, like neon, argon, krypton, xenon and radon, all of which appear in the right most column of the periodic table of the elements.  All the noble gases are inert; they are known for being very unlikely to form chemical compounds.

Hydrogen is the lightest element.  Helium is the second.  Helium is so light weight that gravity hardly affects it.  The helium in our air gradually drifts to the top of the atmosphere and escapes into space.  Hydrogen might do the same except it is highly reactive; it joins in compounds readily.  Helium is too aloof – “noble” – to join in combinations with other elements; it nearly always exists only as single atoms.

Two independent teams of scientists in 1895 found helium on Earth in uraninite, an ore of uranium.  Alpha radiation issued when uranium and thorium decay is simply the emission of particles that are helium nuclei.

Everyone thought that helium was very rare on Earth.  Then something happened in Kansas.  Today Dexter, Kansas is a small town of 278 people, famous for being where the Dalton Gang pulled their last successful bank robbery in 1892.  Its more important claim to fame happened in 1903 and brought it international attention . . . for a few years.  A well had been drilled in search of oil.  But what they found was described as “a howling gasser.”  The noise of the escaping gas could be heard for miles around.  Everyone thought the future of Dexter was assured, that industry would soon move in to utilize the natural gas.  A celebration was organized.  On that day a crowd gathered, the band played, speeches were made.  Then the town fathers planned to set fire to a jet of gas providing a pillar of flame for a day and a half.

He ignited a bale of hay and pushed it toward the gas vent.  The fire went out.  They tried again.  The fire went out again.  They tried several times, but the gas extinguished the flames every time.  They finally had to concede that their gas would not burn.  You can imagine their chagrin.

Erasmus Haworth, the state geologist of Kansas, was in the crowd that day and took a canister of the gas back to the University of Kansas to analyze.  He and a chemist colleague found that the gas contained about 15 percent methane, and another 72 percent nonflammable nitrogen.  The remaining 12 percent baffled them for a time, but using a spectroscope they found that it was partly helium.  This put Dexter on the map as the place that proved helium was not a rare element on the Earth.

Two questions often occur about helium.  First: Why is there helium on the Sun?   Hydrogen fusion, which powers the Sun, produces helium. A helium atom is essentially a doubled hydrogen atom.  Second: How does a gas so light that it floats to the top of the atmosphere and escapes to space come to be underground?  Some of it was primordial; that is, it was incorporated in our planet along with the heavier elements when the Earth formed.  However, it is being created continuously by the breakdown of radioactive elements.  The basement rocks beneath the continents are mostly granites, and almost all granites contain some uranium and thorium, which are radioactive, and spit out helium nuclei.  The helium creeps upward through faults and fractures in rocks until it encounters an impermeable layer where it becomes trapped.

Photo by Crystal

The Four Corners has a lot of helium.  At the Rattlesnake Oil Field, which I wrote about last month, helium was found in the gas from a well drilled in 1942.  This was the first helium produced in the Four Corners.  It has also been produced from the Dine bi Keyah field in the Chuska Mountains; one well there had 4.2 percent helium.  There were helium processing plants near Shiprock for a couple of decades.  Production in San Juan County ceased about 1990.  Some of the world’s richest helium wells were found in the Holbrook Basin, which produced helium in the 1960s-1970s.  Kerr McGee built a helium plant in the area, but after declining production the plant and wells were abandoned in 1976.  Gas containing helium is considered commercial if the helium content is better than 0.3 percent.  One well drilled on the Pinta Dome in Arizona tested at more than 8 percent.

This noble gas is about more than party balloons, which use about 8 percent of the supply.  About a quarter of the helium used in the US cools magnets in MRI machines.  It also cools magnets in particle accelerators, such as the Large Hadron Collider.  It’s used in welding and several manufacturing operations.  Scuba divers use it in part to produce a breathing gas for deep diving.

Thinking primarily of blimps and dirigibles, the US established a strategic reserve of helium in abandoned gas wells near Amarillo, Texas in 1925.  Lighter-than-air-crafts never became important, but new uses of the gas were found, especially to cool the liquid oxygen and hydrogen fuels of the Apollo spacecrafts during the 1950-1960s.

At that time the reserve was expanded, but by 1995 Congress, appalled by the $1.4 billion debt incurred by the operation, voted to have the BLM sell off the gas and close the installation by 2015.  Today the reserve program supplies about one-third of the world’s helium each year, and while sales have increased, helium production is dropping.  The supply issue has become so critical that many scientists have proposed rationing the gas to preserve it for important scientific uses.  Our own Senator Jeff Bingaman was a leader in the effort to preserve the plant at Amarillo.  So far Congress has not acted, but with the known reserves of helium in the Four Corners we might see some development in the future.

By Greg Cavanaugh

It’s becoming harder and harder to classify vehicles, let alone their competition.  The new Buick Encore falls easily into the ubiquitous “crossover” category, but that does little to define its place in the automotive spectrum.  Based on Chevy’s Sonic platform, but taller, the Encore gains some passenger space over the Sonic by taking advantage of the height with a more upright seating position, and, of course, is classed up inside and out to fit Buick’s “near-luxury” mantra.  I guess it’s called a small near-luxury crossover and competes with something like the Mazda CX-5.

I will admit that when I first saw picture of the Encore online I was highly skeptical and thought Buick was off its rockers.  In the flesh, the Encore looks better, although at times I think it looks a little like a roller skate.  Often when test-driving cars, people tell me they don’t really like them when I seem to.  In this case I was unsure of just how much I liked the looks of it and everyone else seemed to think it looked pretty cool.  Style is certainly subjective and taste even more fickle.  There’s no doubt, though, that the Encore looks like a Buick.  The front end, especially, makes good use of Buick’s grill style, headlights, driving lights and portholes on the hood.  Overall it just screams mini-Enclave.  Not a bad thing by any means.  The small rear windows and angled C pillar, à la Pontiac Vibe, add some visual interest but make for pretty poor sightlines, fortunately a rear-view camera is standard.

On the inside the Encore is nice and classy, befitting a more expensive Buick like the Enclave or LaCrosse.  The first thing I noticed was the really nice trim pieces on the upper door and continuing on to the dash; they just look good.  Equipped with dual climate zone, automatic headlights, etc., the Buick certainly has the luxury car goods, even on the base model.   The whole layout is relatively easy and intuitive with the infotainment screen perched nicely at the top of the dash.  My only qualm was that the screen in not a touch screen, which is all but the norm these days.  The space is good with lots of headroom and, for a car with a relatively short wheelbase, excellent legroom front and rear.  The give-away to the Encore’s roots is simply the narrowness of the cabin.  The proof is quite obvious when you notice there is only one armrest for the driver’s seat, but not the passenger’s; it’s pretty clear the car is too narrow to accommodate both!  The seats used a combination of leather and cloth and looked and felt great.  The rear seat headrests were particularly cool in their action.  They pop in as you put them up, then slip over the seat when lowered to allow better visibility and make folding the rear seats painless.   With the seats folded, the Encore provided good space for larger items. With the seats up, the cargo area is pretty small, although it did just fit my acoustic guitar case.

Using GM’s 1.4-liter Ecotec Turbo I-4 (the same as in the Chevy Sonic) mated to a 6-speed automatic, the Encore’s powertrain is a nice match for a car this size.  It returns decent, but not impressive, fuel economy, at 25 mpg city, 33 mpg highway and 28 combined.  Making 138 hp and 148 lb.-ft. of torque, the Encore is by no means a speed demon.  If you’ve never driven a modern Turbo 4, those numbers can be misleading.  Modern turbos make almost diesel-like torque and the Encore’s 1.4 is no exception, hitting its torque peak at a lowly 1850 rpm.  Around town that gives the Encore nice scoot and it’s not until you get higher in the revs that the little four begins to run out of legs – it’s still only 138 hp after all.

While the Encore hides its economy car roots in most cases, out on the highway it’s just not as serene as its older and bigger siblings the LaCrosse and the Enclave.  Although it doesn’t wallow along like a late 80’s Buick, it rides a bit harshly and crashes over larger bumps and expansion joints.   Around town the Encore’s ride is more appropriate and its quick steering makes it a fun little urban runabout.

At first the Encore’s at-tested price of $25,760 for the base model seems high compared with other models.  The base Encore, however, comes with lots of non-base features that, when added to other models, often increase their prices.  One can easily argue that you can get a larger car for less money, but if you believe that Buick is a luxury or near-luxury brand, then getting into the segment for only 25K suddenly seems more attractive.

As always, jump over to my YouTube channel, Gallup Journey Test Drives, to see more of the Encore in and around Gallup.

*A special thanks to the guys at Rico for the test drive

SPECIFICATIONS
VEHICLE TYPE: front-engine, front-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 5-door wagon
BASE PRICE: $25,010  AS TESTED: $25,760
ENGINE TYPE: turbocharged and intercooled DOHC 16-valve inline-4, iron block and aluminum head, port fuel injection
Displacement: 83 cu in, 1364 cc
Power: 138 hp @ 4900 rpm
Torque: 148 lb-ft @ 1850 rpm
TRANSMISSION: 6-speed automatic with manual shifting mode
DIMENSIONS:
Wheelbase: 100.6 in 
Length: 168.5 in 
Width: 69.9 in Height: 65.3 in 
Curb weight: 3250 lb
FUEL ECONOMY:
EPA city/highway driving: 25/33 mpg, 28 combined.