To see it from the beginning, scroll a few posts down and start with I. This one is kind of an overview.
We still feel a little traumatized by the whole thing. I'm traumatized because, seeing it from his point of view, I know he's traumatized. He didn't know what to make of a village of kids who all knew each other, from twelve or more years back, didn't know him, and didn't know what to make of him.
If he could have just relaxed and been himself, that would have worked; it usually does. These kids were not malicious, or hostile, at least not at first, and not even especially racist, though that came out later too and could have been part of it. None of that would have stopped him from being good friends with them.
Some he was very close friends with. These were kids who like his gaming setup and didn't mind hanging out whole weekends eating pizza and gaming. What else was there to do? Lots of the kids were going hunting or cutting firewood. He was holed up in a back room hijacking cars on the streets of San Andreas. With friends, occasionally.
We moved to Illinois because he couldn't go to school. By that point they'd told him they'd put a bullet in him if he did. They'd called him the "n" word too. That makes them look bad but in fact they were just being mean like lots of high school kids can be if they want to be. I didn't believe there was a real threat to his life. They would probably have beaten him up if it came to it though, and they'd even said that.
He was more than partly responsible for what happened. He seemed to be very interested in being cool, being tough, sneering at the world and sneering at us. That's a teen's main weapon especially when one doesn't have a lot of other skills. They saw through it and called his bluff.
As for me I can now see I was unprepared for mountain life. Unprepared to be thirty miles from town in a blizzard when cliff roads are icy. But more than that, unprepared to lead a kid through rough times when he feels isolated from his peers. I tried to get him to play basketball once, when we still lived in the village, and he wouldn't. Didn't want to be seen at the school, maybe? Didn't want to lose? I felt like something was wrong already. He'd become uncomfortable in his own skin.
So it happened naturally, developed over a couple of years, and never got any better. Now I reminisce.
Fortunately he wasn't the one who was out there shooting wild horses, when they wandered into town, or got too close by hanging out at the corner where the slash pit was. Those wild horses were all over the place, coming out from the Mescalero Reservation where they had more than enough, apparently, and doing pretty well but having to keep moving to avoid both traffic and your random teen with a hunting-rifle. I suspect it was a teen but never really knew. And I though that was sick, just putting down wild horses like they were nothing.
He got me to take him back a year or so after we'd moved. Of his best friends, none would come down off the mountain to say hello to him in Alamogordo. I thought that showed an unusual unanimity about how to treat him (poorly), or cowardice to need to be part of a group that is "better than" somebody. Who knows what it was. I may sound bitter. I don't know the whole story and, after all, they're just kids.
A large number of them are pregnant or with child already, though only a year or two out of high school. I hope they have jobs. Life will go on, and maybe the kids will share that insularity. The mountain kids are part of families that feel very much threatened by the modern world. The whole life style is threatened. Yet though people shared with me such things as how to take care of generators, I never really became integrated to the community. I suppose I could have shared that back-there, up-the-mountain, away-from-it-all kind of ethic. It could have been me. There but for the grace of God go all of us.
Wednesday, February 18, 2026
Tuesday, December 16, 2025
The whole story Part III
Scroll down a couple of posts to get to the beginning. This post is part of a series in which I reflect on how things could go wrong for us in a beautiful mountain town, with gorgeous trails, deer and elk, really nice people, fresh air, high mountain altitude. Why did we leave?
We are back in Illinois now, and my son, who is neurologically diverse, black, dmdd, and a little scary, but is basically a very nice kid, is much happier. He has black friends. He's found plenty of other people who are as disabled as he is or worse. He's on disability and doesn't have to wonder if he'll eat tomorrow which makes him lucky in his friends' eyes. He actually misses Cloudcroft although he was basically run out of there.
Run out? Yes, at some point some kid told him that if he came back to school, they'd put a gun to him. Now you'd probably be quick to say that there's two sides to every story, and I'm sure there are two sides to this one, but since I don't know them both clearly all I can say is that it didn't leave us much choice besides homeschooling and that didn't work either. But there were two other characters involved - a sister the same age, and a younger sister, and they weren't getting any education either. We needed to be back in Illinois where we could get some help.
It's fair to say that neither the school nor the kids knew how to handle him. And the kids were probably more important, since he wasn't the kind of kid who'd be arguing about B's and A's and colleges. He just needed to be accepted in a crowd and wasn't able to get that. And I'm sure he was partly at fault. He presented himself as a tough gang-banger who knew (from the internet) what Chicago was like, and they saw through it, because he didn't really want to fight anyone, and I don't blame him. For them if fists don't work guns will and if they even mention the guns they probably mean it.
On the other hand, being mountain kids and all, and all of seventeen themselves, they were very likely just mouthing off, and it never would have come to that. They didn't quite know how to take him. He went into rages every once in a while and this was scary since he was big and strong, and you could accuse them of racism (he did hear the n-word at least once) but I think they did give him a chance and also I think they would have accepted quite a bit of difference if he had handled it a little better. They weren't trying to pick a fight but it came out looking that way. And their reaction to him was way more important, in the end, than the teachers', or even the police, who went way out of their way to be fair to him.
While we were there some kid or kids, or perhaps grownups, were shooting wild horses when they wandered into town. Now this was a real tragedy and one I might write about. My son never did anything like that. Never got a gun, never hurt anyone, never even killed an animal. It was all just rage, the rage of being black where there were so few others like him, and where the first lesson he got in school was about slavery. That seemed to set him off in the wrong direction, and he's never come back, really. Though now, at least, he has some other black kids to talk about it with.
We are back in Illinois now, and my son, who is neurologically diverse, black, dmdd, and a little scary, but is basically a very nice kid, is much happier. He has black friends. He's found plenty of other people who are as disabled as he is or worse. He's on disability and doesn't have to wonder if he'll eat tomorrow which makes him lucky in his friends' eyes. He actually misses Cloudcroft although he was basically run out of there.
Run out? Yes, at some point some kid told him that if he came back to school, they'd put a gun to him. Now you'd probably be quick to say that there's two sides to every story, and I'm sure there are two sides to this one, but since I don't know them both clearly all I can say is that it didn't leave us much choice besides homeschooling and that didn't work either. But there were two other characters involved - a sister the same age, and a younger sister, and they weren't getting any education either. We needed to be back in Illinois where we could get some help.
It's fair to say that neither the school nor the kids knew how to handle him. And the kids were probably more important, since he wasn't the kind of kid who'd be arguing about B's and A's and colleges. He just needed to be accepted in a crowd and wasn't able to get that. And I'm sure he was partly at fault. He presented himself as a tough gang-banger who knew (from the internet) what Chicago was like, and they saw through it, because he didn't really want to fight anyone, and I don't blame him. For them if fists don't work guns will and if they even mention the guns they probably mean it.
On the other hand, being mountain kids and all, and all of seventeen themselves, they were very likely just mouthing off, and it never would have come to that. They didn't quite know how to take him. He went into rages every once in a while and this was scary since he was big and strong, and you could accuse them of racism (he did hear the n-word at least once) but I think they did give him a chance and also I think they would have accepted quite a bit of difference if he had handled it a little better. They weren't trying to pick a fight but it came out looking that way. And their reaction to him was way more important, in the end, than the teachers', or even the police, who went way out of their way to be fair to him.
While we were there some kid or kids, or perhaps grownups, were shooting wild horses when they wandered into town. Now this was a real tragedy and one I might write about. My son never did anything like that. Never got a gun, never hurt anyone, never even killed an animal. It was all just rage, the rage of being black where there were so few others like him, and where the first lesson he got in school was about slavery. That seemed to set him off in the wrong direction, and he's never come back, really. Though now, at least, he has some other black kids to talk about it with.
Friday, October 17, 2025
The whole story Part II
To find Part I, scroll down. All of these will eventually appear together.
We were in the Cloudcroft area for six years, about half in the village and half on a piece of land way out Sixteen Springs and up against the reservation. We learned a lot from both places, and we're not sorry we did it. We had to leave, in the end, because we couldn't force our kids to go to school, and they had to do something. So we finally packed it all in and moved up here to Illinois.
But first, the charming things about Cloudcroft. I was struck by the way it was isolated compared to the rest of the southwest: much higher, much cooler, much wetter, much snowier - it had an entirely different climate. And up there on the mountain, we could literally look down at the drier, hotter valley every day of the year. The Tularosa Basin got what, about five inches of rain a year? And all on the same day? Cloudcroft in the bigger picture is still quite dry - it has trouble collecting enough water to provide for its own residents - but at least it rains there, and it snows too - a lot. We occasionally dug ourselves out of drifts of a few feet. And the locals loved the snow - they said that whereas the rain washes right off, the snow melts and seeps down into the water table where we need it - thus replenishing a water table that has become very depleted.
This is probably the single biggest issue of living in the area. Without much effort we can look down into El Paso, or drive over to Las Cruces - but the feeling of infinite dryness is overpowering. At one point we looked into Timberon - remarkably remote, hilly, beautiful in its own way (talk about looking down into ELP). But it was a tinderbox! the trees down there hadn't had a drop of rain in years, and in fact went up in flames once while we were there. Scary! Of course they drop fire retardant by the bucket and pretty soon it's all smoldering. But it still reminded me: this is one very dry country.
The same was true, basically, out by Mayhill/Sixteen Springs. We were evacuated once - had to load up everything and drive down to Mayhill, which we did. My fire department buddies battled the fire, which was just off the highway and apparently pretty easily containable. But it was at that point that my wife realized that we were literally surrounded by thousands of acres of very dry forest that could go up in a minute - and at various times in the past, it had - and that we'd be sitting ducks, unable to escape in any direction. In fact there were two directions we could escape, only a single main road over a very dry mountain, but also a backroad, over another very dry mountain. One stiff wind and we'd be trapped.
Socially, things fell apart for our kids, and it was partly that they were special, and nobody had much experience with this kind of kid before. I don't entirely blame the kids of the village, though they did some pretty low things before it was all over. Our own kid had a violent temper and really didn't know who he was or how he fit in.
I trace it back to his junior high, when we arrived, and they apparently taught a lesson on slavery. He was the only black kid. He literally didn't know what to make of it, and his classmates didn't help. It was just history - how did anyone know? They also didn't have many Mexican or Chicano students though they occasionally had a few. At some point this boy - large and black and usually scowling - became too uncomfortable to walk down and play basketball at the junior high outdoor court. It was painful for him. He tried to be a gangsta and it just didn't work.
Now a lot of times small towns will make you feel excluded for a simple reason - everyone has a huge history with each other, going back all their lives, and they have no history with a newcomer. So they too are out of their comfort zone and don't know how to deal with it, since their usual tricks for sizing each other up just simply don't work. Obviously it's doubly bad when the kid is large and black. They don't think of themselves as racist and in fact go out of their way to include him, and treat him like the others, yet they don't really know much about where he's been, or who he is, or anything like that. He made friends, and did ok in some school things - for example he played basketball - yet he was on a path toward alienation that he would never come back from. This was partly from his trying to be "gangsta" and prove that he was the most troublous of the troublous.
What I'm saying is that all these things are a two-way street, but we somehow didn't see how we could have supported him differently so that the inevitable falling-out could be prevented.
We had our own trials - I taught at a junior high down in the valley, and was steadily losing my hearing; my wife took work as a hospice nurse but found it too hard on her back.
A tourist town is by nature hard to get to know people in. People are going to be friendly to everyone, as they see new people every day, and everyone could be a customer. Yet this kind of surface interaction is hard to get past sometimes; it's like they're in the habit of being polite but not really trying to go any further. That's for their own survival, really; you can't blame them. I found the whole region - Texas too - to be very friendly and genuinely friendly. Yet I also felt that in some ways we could have spent another ten years there and still would have been tourists.
My wife and I saw a bear on one of our first hikes out on the cliffs overlooking the Tularosa Basin. There are pine-filled mountains south of town, and you can walk around what I believe they call the Rim Trail, and there we were, looking at a mother bear and her teenager, blocking the trail with a mountain behind them and a cliff in front of them. I stopped my wife and then yelled at the bear. The bear looked at me with utmost contempt and led her teenager off the path. We inched forward, aware that they couldn't be that far away, since the mountain blocked them behind, and the cliff was on the other side. But when we got up to that spot, they were thoroughly gone. Disappeared. Not a trace.
Even more surprising was the villagers' response. Yes, they saw bears often, even in town. Bears would come down out of the mountains and open the dumpsters if they could. While we were there I met one guy who, as a kid of about twelve, opened a dumpster to find a bear in it; he was traumatized for life. Uninjured, though. They aren't out to maul you, though they will if they have to. More later.
We were in the Cloudcroft area for six years, about half in the village and half on a piece of land way out Sixteen Springs and up against the reservation. We learned a lot from both places, and we're not sorry we did it. We had to leave, in the end, because we couldn't force our kids to go to school, and they had to do something. So we finally packed it all in and moved up here to Illinois.
But first, the charming things about Cloudcroft. I was struck by the way it was isolated compared to the rest of the southwest: much higher, much cooler, much wetter, much snowier - it had an entirely different climate. And up there on the mountain, we could literally look down at the drier, hotter valley every day of the year. The Tularosa Basin got what, about five inches of rain a year? And all on the same day? Cloudcroft in the bigger picture is still quite dry - it has trouble collecting enough water to provide for its own residents - but at least it rains there, and it snows too - a lot. We occasionally dug ourselves out of drifts of a few feet. And the locals loved the snow - they said that whereas the rain washes right off, the snow melts and seeps down into the water table where we need it - thus replenishing a water table that has become very depleted.
This is probably the single biggest issue of living in the area. Without much effort we can look down into El Paso, or drive over to Las Cruces - but the feeling of infinite dryness is overpowering. At one point we looked into Timberon - remarkably remote, hilly, beautiful in its own way (talk about looking down into ELP). But it was a tinderbox! the trees down there hadn't had a drop of rain in years, and in fact went up in flames once while we were there. Scary! Of course they drop fire retardant by the bucket and pretty soon it's all smoldering. But it still reminded me: this is one very dry country.
The same was true, basically, out by Mayhill/Sixteen Springs. We were evacuated once - had to load up everything and drive down to Mayhill, which we did. My fire department buddies battled the fire, which was just off the highway and apparently pretty easily containable. But it was at that point that my wife realized that we were literally surrounded by thousands of acres of very dry forest that could go up in a minute - and at various times in the past, it had - and that we'd be sitting ducks, unable to escape in any direction. In fact there were two directions we could escape, only a single main road over a very dry mountain, but also a backroad, over another very dry mountain. One stiff wind and we'd be trapped.
Socially, things fell apart for our kids, and it was partly that they were special, and nobody had much experience with this kind of kid before. I don't entirely blame the kids of the village, though they did some pretty low things before it was all over. Our own kid had a violent temper and really didn't know who he was or how he fit in.
I trace it back to his junior high, when we arrived, and they apparently taught a lesson on slavery. He was the only black kid. He literally didn't know what to make of it, and his classmates didn't help. It was just history - how did anyone know? They also didn't have many Mexican or Chicano students though they occasionally had a few. At some point this boy - large and black and usually scowling - became too uncomfortable to walk down and play basketball at the junior high outdoor court. It was painful for him. He tried to be a gangsta and it just didn't work.
Now a lot of times small towns will make you feel excluded for a simple reason - everyone has a huge history with each other, going back all their lives, and they have no history with a newcomer. So they too are out of their comfort zone and don't know how to deal with it, since their usual tricks for sizing each other up just simply don't work. Obviously it's doubly bad when the kid is large and black. They don't think of themselves as racist and in fact go out of their way to include him, and treat him like the others, yet they don't really know much about where he's been, or who he is, or anything like that. He made friends, and did ok in some school things - for example he played basketball - yet he was on a path toward alienation that he would never come back from. This was partly from his trying to be "gangsta" and prove that he was the most troublous of the troublous.
What I'm saying is that all these things are a two-way street, but we somehow didn't see how we could have supported him differently so that the inevitable falling-out could be prevented.
We had our own trials - I taught at a junior high down in the valley, and was steadily losing my hearing; my wife took work as a hospice nurse but found it too hard on her back.
A tourist town is by nature hard to get to know people in. People are going to be friendly to everyone, as they see new people every day, and everyone could be a customer. Yet this kind of surface interaction is hard to get past sometimes; it's like they're in the habit of being polite but not really trying to go any further. That's for their own survival, really; you can't blame them. I found the whole region - Texas too - to be very friendly and genuinely friendly. Yet I also felt that in some ways we could have spent another ten years there and still would have been tourists.
My wife and I saw a bear on one of our first hikes out on the cliffs overlooking the Tularosa Basin. There are pine-filled mountains south of town, and you can walk around what I believe they call the Rim Trail, and there we were, looking at a mother bear and her teenager, blocking the trail with a mountain behind them and a cliff in front of them. I stopped my wife and then yelled at the bear. The bear looked at me with utmost contempt and led her teenager off the path. We inched forward, aware that they couldn't be that far away, since the mountain blocked them behind, and the cliff was on the other side. But when we got up to that spot, they were thoroughly gone. Disappeared. Not a trace.
Even more surprising was the villagers' response. Yes, they saw bears often, even in town. Bears would come down out of the mountains and open the dumpsters if they could. While we were there I met one guy who, as a kid of about twelve, opened a dumpster to find a bear in it; he was traumatized for life. Uninjured, though. They aren't out to maul you, though they will if they have to. More later.
Monday, October 6, 2025
The whole story Part I
We started out driving through Cloudcroft on our way from Lubbock to Las Cruces. That trip was about six or seven hours, with Cloudcroft high in the mountains in about the fifth hour going west. After five hours of flat, hot, windy dusty plains, the high mountain air, the cool fog, the deer and the greenery really made a contrast.
Often it was just me driving, from our home in Lubbock to see my parents in Las Cruces. On the other side of Cloudcroft, down through Alamogordo and past the White Sands, I'd have to endure the Tularosa Basin and another mountain climb, this one the Organs, before I got to their place in Las Cruces. It was actually a pretty wild and diverse trip, but Cloudcroft was the high point in more ways than ooe.
My wife was chair of the Sociology department at Texas Tech, but things were falling apart. She had a good salary, but politics there were making her lose her hair. She too however was impressed by the high mountain atmosphere. Pretty soon we had a good realtor who found us a wonderful house on the cliff looking out at the White Sands, and we moved out there for the summer. The house wasn't quite big enough for us and the three kids, but we figured it was summer only and then we'd go back.
Already we'd go out on the porch and look way out over the White Sands, or go down into the town, two blocks, full of tourist places and tourists. That second wasn't so appealing to me, but the town was nice and friendly. We had no problem being accepted. Some policeman came by and introduced himself as our son was the first black kid they'd seen in a while. They liked us; things were going well.
In the schools though the son had some problems. Looking back I think it was a lesson they did on slavery. It was just part of the curriculum, and people weren't mean to him, but he didn't know how to take it. He didn't know who he was as a kid and it wasn't getting any better. Pretty soon he thought he had to be crazier than they were in order to fit in, and he set out to do that.
My wife and I were walking on a path near the town and encountered a bear, a couple of them. It's a story I like to tell and retell, but basically nobody was surprised. They had bears as neighbors. They cared about how people treated them.
I'm not sure who came up with the idea of moving back off into the mountains, but I agreed with it. This would happen right before the pandemic. We could all see the pandemic coming but didn't know quite what to do about it. It turns out that in an isolated town like Cloudcroft (our kids would still be in its schools) we were relatively safe. Not much in the way of covid came up the mountain and when it did, like everything, everyone knew about it pretty quickly. As we moved out to the mountains, we were about halfway through our six-year stint in southern New Mexico, three in the village, three out there in Sixteen Springs. We rented the house and bought the land that my dad left me when he died.
continued
Often it was just me driving, from our home in Lubbock to see my parents in Las Cruces. On the other side of Cloudcroft, down through Alamogordo and past the White Sands, I'd have to endure the Tularosa Basin and another mountain climb, this one the Organs, before I got to their place in Las Cruces. It was actually a pretty wild and diverse trip, but Cloudcroft was the high point in more ways than ooe.
My wife was chair of the Sociology department at Texas Tech, but things were falling apart. She had a good salary, but politics there were making her lose her hair. She too however was impressed by the high mountain atmosphere. Pretty soon we had a good realtor who found us a wonderful house on the cliff looking out at the White Sands, and we moved out there for the summer. The house wasn't quite big enough for us and the three kids, but we figured it was summer only and then we'd go back.
Already we'd go out on the porch and look way out over the White Sands, or go down into the town, two blocks, full of tourist places and tourists. That second wasn't so appealing to me, but the town was nice and friendly. We had no problem being accepted. Some policeman came by and introduced himself as our son was the first black kid they'd seen in a while. They liked us; things were going well.
In the schools though the son had some problems. Looking back I think it was a lesson they did on slavery. It was just part of the curriculum, and people weren't mean to him, but he didn't know how to take it. He didn't know who he was as a kid and it wasn't getting any better. Pretty soon he thought he had to be crazier than they were in order to fit in, and he set out to do that.
My wife and I were walking on a path near the town and encountered a bear, a couple of them. It's a story I like to tell and retell, but basically nobody was surprised. They had bears as neighbors. They cared about how people treated them.
I'm not sure who came up with the idea of moving back off into the mountains, but I agreed with it. This would happen right before the pandemic. We could all see the pandemic coming but didn't know quite what to do about it. It turns out that in an isolated town like Cloudcroft (our kids would still be in its schools) we were relatively safe. Not much in the way of covid came up the mountain and when it did, like everything, everyone knew about it pretty quickly. As we moved out to the mountains, we were about halfway through our six-year stint in southern New Mexico, three in the village, three out there in Sixteen Springs. We rented the house and bought the land that my dad left me when he died.
continued
Thursday, July 10, 2025
Ruidoso floods
The news out of Ruidoso these days is especially grim. Two kids swept away at a trailer park? That could have been us.
We lived for a couple of years in the village of Cloudcroft and then out in the mountains toward Mayhill for another almost four more. We went to Ruidoso often. I remember sticking my feet in the river there and being grateful that fresh water came down off the mountain to cool me off at least once a summer.
Fires and burn scars, though, make it so the water comes faster. Even a little water has nowhere to go except straight down the mountain and into the river. Rains are coming harder and faster now than ever before. Chicago got five inches in fifty minutes; Texas got a 30-foot swell in the Guadalupe.
Don't count on FEMA. Don't count on the NOAA. Don't count on warning systems. They are gutted, understaffed, demoralized.
For a while there I was telling people to stay out of airlines too. The FAA has caved in; air traffic controllers are falling over from overwork etc. But that situation seems to have righted itself a little as I'm sure the emergency systems will too. People prioritize based on what's necessary and if they only have a few resources, granted not nearly enough, at least they will put them where they are needed most, and offer some protection from emergencies.
In the end it's up to us to take care of our own. Have you ever heard people talk about life in anarchy? Now's our chance to experience it. The pressure is raised by the thousands of weather events (they will be getting worse) so communities of people have to respond by pulling together and offering what help they can. In anarchy you make your own government to deal with your own problems.
Ruidoso was a beautiful place. Maybe the world is changing too quickly for it.
We lived for a couple of years in the village of Cloudcroft and then out in the mountains toward Mayhill for another almost four more. We went to Ruidoso often. I remember sticking my feet in the river there and being grateful that fresh water came down off the mountain to cool me off at least once a summer.
Fires and burn scars, though, make it so the water comes faster. Even a little water has nowhere to go except straight down the mountain and into the river. Rains are coming harder and faster now than ever before. Chicago got five inches in fifty minutes; Texas got a 30-foot swell in the Guadalupe.
Don't count on FEMA. Don't count on the NOAA. Don't count on warning systems. They are gutted, understaffed, demoralized.
For a while there I was telling people to stay out of airlines too. The FAA has caved in; air traffic controllers are falling over from overwork etc. But that situation seems to have righted itself a little as I'm sure the emergency systems will too. People prioritize based on what's necessary and if they only have a few resources, granted not nearly enough, at least they will put them where they are needed most, and offer some protection from emergencies.
In the end it's up to us to take care of our own. Have you ever heard people talk about life in anarchy? Now's our chance to experience it. The pressure is raised by the thousands of weather events (they will be getting worse) so communities of people have to respond by pulling together and offering what help they can. In anarchy you make your own government to deal with your own problems.
Ruidoso was a beautiful place. Maybe the world is changing too quickly for it.
Thursday, June 20, 2024
Ruidoso fires
To recap my own experience, we began vacationing in Ruidoso in 2012, and rented cabins there several times (we lived in Lubbock), but ended up choosing Cloudcroft to buy a summer home, and then upon spending a summer in Cloudcroft (2016), never went back to Texas. Even then we'd visit Ruidoso often, driving up through the Mescalero reservation; we'd go swimming in the city pool or in Grindstone Lake, or wade in the river in the center of town.
I am glued to the news of fires threatening Ruidoso from both sides, damaging certain buildings and devastating the forests around the town. The first person who died was a musician who was waiting for a ride, but the ride got turned away by first responders and there was no way to contact him to tell him to get out by any means he could. Another person was found this morning just off the road to Alto. But in general this morning there is a complete lack of information. The only article from within twelve hours is the New York Times article; we can expect that to be thorough and well-written but mostly a recap of other articles. The reason more recent news would be helpful is the reports of showers, which make burn scars especially horrible but which in some cases help the firefighters protect the parts that haven't yet burned. All that I assume will come out in later articles and as they start to rebuild the town.
We are basically climate refugees from New Mexico. We lived in the village of Cloudcroft for a few years, enjoying its fog and snow, but then we moved out toward Mayhill for a few more, and enjoyed even more the elk, the deer, the wildlife and the feel of the mountains. But after we were evacuated once it dawned on us that the 30,000 or so acres around us were extremely dry forest, like a tinderbox, and there wasn't much to keep us from losing it all. I was very impressed by the local fire crew and loved them dearly; they were very nice people and they saved my wife's life at one point. But they were no match for a 30,000-acre fire with raging winds, and they knew it; a fire a few years back had taken much of the area around Mayhill and had even encompassed Mayhill itself. These things happen, they are part of life up there, and they are devestating.
One night I was at a performance at the Flying J (I think?), a ranch near Alto that re-enacts the old west for tourists and puts on a good musical show of old cowboy songs; they are respectable, admirable western musicians. In the middle of the show the lead singer gave a little speech, like a witness. I would expect him to go on a little about Jesus Christ as that's not uncommon in a bluegrass show, but instead he spoke a little about growing up in the mountains of Alto and then, one summer, losing it all in a huge fire. This is not the first rodeo for Alto, and it's him, and the road to Alto in general, that I'm thinking about now. Of all the people I met up there it was the musicians that I left part of my heart with.
I can say also that I liked and respected the Mescalero fire crews and police, as they seemed to both know what they were doing and work very well with the rest of ours; when it came to fires everyone stuck together and used the same protocols. It's too early to say whether the Inn of the Mountain Gods, or the Mescalero School will be affected; I have been to the school, and to Grindstone Lake, and to a place along Upper Canyon somewhere and I have not been able to discern exactly what has or has not burned. I know that with the coming of strong rain things will be even more destroyed and this unfortunately is in many cases their entire life. Mine is up here now, in the rain; we chose risk of tornado over fire danger. My wife, being a little anxious, says there's no way she could live with risk of no insurance, let alone risk of being surrounded by 30,000 acres of raging fire, evacuation or not, so we just up and came back to Illinois in 2022
I am glued to the news of fires threatening Ruidoso from both sides, damaging certain buildings and devastating the forests around the town. The first person who died was a musician who was waiting for a ride, but the ride got turned away by first responders and there was no way to contact him to tell him to get out by any means he could. Another person was found this morning just off the road to Alto. But in general this morning there is a complete lack of information. The only article from within twelve hours is the New York Times article; we can expect that to be thorough and well-written but mostly a recap of other articles. The reason more recent news would be helpful is the reports of showers, which make burn scars especially horrible but which in some cases help the firefighters protect the parts that haven't yet burned. All that I assume will come out in later articles and as they start to rebuild the town.
We are basically climate refugees from New Mexico. We lived in the village of Cloudcroft for a few years, enjoying its fog and snow, but then we moved out toward Mayhill for a few more, and enjoyed even more the elk, the deer, the wildlife and the feel of the mountains. But after we were evacuated once it dawned on us that the 30,000 or so acres around us were extremely dry forest, like a tinderbox, and there wasn't much to keep us from losing it all. I was very impressed by the local fire crew and loved them dearly; they were very nice people and they saved my wife's life at one point. But they were no match for a 30,000-acre fire with raging winds, and they knew it; a fire a few years back had taken much of the area around Mayhill and had even encompassed Mayhill itself. These things happen, they are part of life up there, and they are devestating.
One night I was at a performance at the Flying J (I think?), a ranch near Alto that re-enacts the old west for tourists and puts on a good musical show of old cowboy songs; they are respectable, admirable western musicians. In the middle of the show the lead singer gave a little speech, like a witness. I would expect him to go on a little about Jesus Christ as that's not uncommon in a bluegrass show, but instead he spoke a little about growing up in the mountains of Alto and then, one summer, losing it all in a huge fire. This is not the first rodeo for Alto, and it's him, and the road to Alto in general, that I'm thinking about now. Of all the people I met up there it was the musicians that I left part of my heart with.
I can say also that I liked and respected the Mescalero fire crews and police, as they seemed to both know what they were doing and work very well with the rest of ours; when it came to fires everyone stuck together and used the same protocols. It's too early to say whether the Inn of the Mountain Gods, or the Mescalero School will be affected; I have been to the school, and to Grindstone Lake, and to a place along Upper Canyon somewhere and I have not been able to discern exactly what has or has not burned. I know that with the coming of strong rain things will be even more destroyed and this unfortunately is in many cases their entire life. Mine is up here now, in the rain; we chose risk of tornado over fire danger. My wife, being a little anxious, says there's no way she could live with risk of no insurance, let alone risk of being surrounded by 30,000 acres of raging fire, evacuation or not, so we just up and came back to Illinois in 2022
Monday, January 30, 2023
Milepost 8
So a huge chunk of mountain fell onto the highway last week, and things were looking pretty grim. Nobody was hurt, thankfully, but it was about 40 or 50 tons, probably, and I was wondering how the heck they would get it off the road? (see picture in next post). I figured it would be about a month.
I was wrong. The road apparently reopened tonight. My hat's off in tribute to the guys in yellow jackets, the road crews. They apparently know exactly what they're doing.
It's actually a matter of being very methodical; of knowing what it takes and getting the equipment to the site; of communicating very clearly to the people who control traffic, and reroute it through Mescalero; of maximizing the work hours, so that some people actually work at night but basically one thing happens after another, and pretty soon, the rock is out of the way, then they fix the road, and finally they fix the guardrail and the shoulders. It's really quite amazing. But it's Monday night and it seems the road is open. People are driving from Alamo to Cloudcroft.
I have to say, though I am now retired and living in Illinois, that I really respect these guys in yellow jackets. What little I had to do with the volunteer fire departments, they were also quite good at this. You see the problem, you bring the necessary equipment, you apply the right force to the situation, you take care of it. It's impressive.
My hat's off to all of y'all.
I was wrong. The road apparently reopened tonight. My hat's off in tribute to the guys in yellow jackets, the road crews. They apparently know exactly what they're doing.
It's actually a matter of being very methodical; of knowing what it takes and getting the equipment to the site; of communicating very clearly to the people who control traffic, and reroute it through Mescalero; of maximizing the work hours, so that some people actually work at night but basically one thing happens after another, and pretty soon, the rock is out of the way, then they fix the road, and finally they fix the guardrail and the shoulders. It's really quite amazing. But it's Monday night and it seems the road is open. People are driving from Alamo to Cloudcroft.
I have to say, though I am now retired and living in Illinois, that I really respect these guys in yellow jackets. What little I had to do with the volunteer fire departments, they were also quite good at this. You see the problem, you bring the necessary equipment, you apply the right force to the situation, you take care of it. It's impressive.
My hat's off to all of y'all.
Friday, November 11, 2022
Monday, May 16, 2022
A true mountain tale
I wrote this story about living in Sixteen Springs:
A true mountain tale
I am busy these days preparing to move out of the Cloudcroft area. I will miss it. I have especially loved Sixteen Springs. But a new life awaits us in other venues, and we'll be out of here around the first of June. More on that later.
A true mountain tale
I am busy these days preparing to move out of the Cloudcroft area. I will miss it. I have especially loved Sixteen Springs. But a new life awaits us in other venues, and we'll be out of here around the first of June. More on that later.
Saturday, September 18, 2021
Sunday, May 30, 2021
Prove Me Wrong
The fire at Marblehead Canyon, between Cloudcroft and Alamogordo, they said, was human-caused. Had to be, they said, because it waosn't lightning-caused.
Now I know there is a small community of desert campers who love it out there, way out West Side Road, which comes off south from around High Rolls, and goes along behind those Alamo mountains where it's real wild, and dry. You have to about have a humvee to get back up in there, and when you do, I suppose you are just as likely to light a cigarette as anyone. And just for the record, I don't want to argue with them about the lightning. If they know there was no lightning that day (about a week ago), that is good enough for me.
But here's something they apparently didn't consider, though they could have just called it "human-caused." I think it's possible that that fire was "space-rocket-caused," since a space rocket had taken off from Las Cruces the night before.
The space rocket didn't really make much news. It was private; it was successful; apparently some people went into space, but not far into space, and they came back, and I assume lived to tell the tale. You didn't hear much about how private rocket launches would change our lives out here in the country, or how it was a new age of space travel. Maybe it wasn't very new.
But this is my argument: It would be hard to get that rocket up there, in any situation, without dropping a few sparks, not to mention a few very hot pieces of rocket. Those had to land somewhere. They could land in the White Sands or somewhere out on that missile range and probably nobody would know the difference - in some places vegetation is so sparse that you can catch one bush on fire and the others won't catch; they're too far apart.
But up in Marblehead Canyon, there's enough, now, so that a fire could start and still be burning the next morning. It's dry enough.
And so comes my prediction. We who live out at the end of the road, in a dry forest, with hundreds of miles of dry forest to our sides and edges, might be called upon to pay close attention in the coming years. Space rockets may keep us on our toes. But here's another problem: drones. People are beginning to use them to hunt. Why not? They will be all over this valley as well, and they will provide the hunter pictures of where the deer and elk are, and even do the shooting. The hunter then just has to know how to go out and find them.
What will we do about drones? I have no idea. I'm not even sure what we should do about space rockets. All I can say is, a little more rain wouldn't hurt.
Now I know there is a small community of desert campers who love it out there, way out West Side Road, which comes off south from around High Rolls, and goes along behind those Alamo mountains where it's real wild, and dry. You have to about have a humvee to get back up in there, and when you do, I suppose you are just as likely to light a cigarette as anyone. And just for the record, I don't want to argue with them about the lightning. If they know there was no lightning that day (about a week ago), that is good enough for me.
But here's something they apparently didn't consider, though they could have just called it "human-caused." I think it's possible that that fire was "space-rocket-caused," since a space rocket had taken off from Las Cruces the night before.
The space rocket didn't really make much news. It was private; it was successful; apparently some people went into space, but not far into space, and they came back, and I assume lived to tell the tale. You didn't hear much about how private rocket launches would change our lives out here in the country, or how it was a new age of space travel. Maybe it wasn't very new.
But this is my argument: It would be hard to get that rocket up there, in any situation, without dropping a few sparks, not to mention a few very hot pieces of rocket. Those had to land somewhere. They could land in the White Sands or somewhere out on that missile range and probably nobody would know the difference - in some places vegetation is so sparse that you can catch one bush on fire and the others won't catch; they're too far apart.
But up in Marblehead Canyon, there's enough, now, so that a fire could start and still be burning the next morning. It's dry enough.
And so comes my prediction. We who live out at the end of the road, in a dry forest, with hundreds of miles of dry forest to our sides and edges, might be called upon to pay close attention in the coming years. Space rockets may keep us on our toes. But here's another problem: drones. People are beginning to use them to hunt. Why not? They will be all over this valley as well, and they will provide the hunter pictures of where the deer and elk are, and even do the shooting. The hunter then just has to know how to go out and find them.
What will we do about drones? I have no idea. I'm not even sure what we should do about space rockets. All I can say is, a little more rain wouldn't hurt.
Tuesday, April 27, 2021
they shoot wild horses don't they
Let me see if I got this story straight. Some of the wild horses wandered into town, and actually stayed there for about a week. They were eating grass in the schoolyard, and in the park, and if there wasn't trouble with a passing car or maybe a kid walking home from school, there would be soon enough.
But then someone came along and shot them, all four of them. Shot them, and left their dead bodies where they were, for someone else to clean up. I didn't hear much about this; it wasn't on the news, and a lot of people felt that something bad was going to happen anyway.
But then someone went and shot two more, out on a country road. Like it's open season. It's like, if no one is going to get mad about this, might as well shoot them whenever we see them. Now as far as I know they don't do this with the deer or elk, though they could; they could probably pop a few out on a country road and who would know any better? But in this case, again, they left the bodies there for someone else to clean up. That someone, I would imagine, is probably a little annoyed by now.
It could be that the problem was, we weren't mad enough about it, the first time they did it. People just shrugged. Nobody called the newspaper. It seemed like they were going to hurt someone anyway.
I will give you my solutions. I will be the first to admit I am not from around here and am not quite sure what to do. But I can tell you, the horses are beautiful, and they don't deserve to be assassinated.
1. Get out the fire department. Next time they are in town, make a lot of noise in their faces. Make sure they know their life will be miserable if they hang around in town. Anywhere else is ok; we drive carefully anyway. Just don't let them nuzzle up on the schoolchildren.
2. Get the state involved. The state can actually find them a better place to live, if this area has become too crowded for them. The state has the resources to round a few of them up, and take them to a place where there's fewer people. Of course, Sierra Blanca is kind of out of the picture at the moment. But there are plenty of other places.
3. Get the National Forest to create a refuge for them. This they might actually do. Just an agreed-upon acreage, where it is marked perhaps with signs, and where we all know there are a lot of horses in here. All up against the reservation or wherever they are coming from.
4. Tell the world. Now this, I'm sure, is not your favorite. If you had New York City filmmakers out here interviewing the locals, they would make us look bad. To them, wild horses are the coolest thing on earth. To us, we're shrugging our shoulders when a few of them get shot. It's a difference in perception. You don't want those guys coming around, pick from #1-3 fast. This is our problem, so let's solve it. These horses can live in our world; in fact we want them to. They're good for us. They're beautiful. And they're free, as long as we leave them that way. Let's make sure they stay away from the village schoolchildren though, ok?
5. Do some policing. It probably is possible to figure out who's going around murdering horses. It's undoubtedly someone who is more than well-armed, eager to use his gun, and thinking if it's ok with him and his friends, it's ok. NO IT'S NOT. Murder is never ok. Hunting might be ok, if you eat them. Just murdering them is not.
I have given myself away; I love them, and don't want to see them murdered. I like the elk and deer too even though it means I have to drive very carefully every minute. To me it's worth it. It's what makes the mountains special.
But then someone came along and shot them, all four of them. Shot them, and left their dead bodies where they were, for someone else to clean up. I didn't hear much about this; it wasn't on the news, and a lot of people felt that something bad was going to happen anyway.
But then someone went and shot two more, out on a country road. Like it's open season. It's like, if no one is going to get mad about this, might as well shoot them whenever we see them. Now as far as I know they don't do this with the deer or elk, though they could; they could probably pop a few out on a country road and who would know any better? But in this case, again, they left the bodies there for someone else to clean up. That someone, I would imagine, is probably a little annoyed by now.
It could be that the problem was, we weren't mad enough about it, the first time they did it. People just shrugged. Nobody called the newspaper. It seemed like they were going to hurt someone anyway.
I will give you my solutions. I will be the first to admit I am not from around here and am not quite sure what to do. But I can tell you, the horses are beautiful, and they don't deserve to be assassinated.
1. Get out the fire department. Next time they are in town, make a lot of noise in their faces. Make sure they know their life will be miserable if they hang around in town. Anywhere else is ok; we drive carefully anyway. Just don't let them nuzzle up on the schoolchildren.
2. Get the state involved. The state can actually find them a better place to live, if this area has become too crowded for them. The state has the resources to round a few of them up, and take them to a place where there's fewer people. Of course, Sierra Blanca is kind of out of the picture at the moment. But there are plenty of other places.
3. Get the National Forest to create a refuge for them. This they might actually do. Just an agreed-upon acreage, where it is marked perhaps with signs, and where we all know there are a lot of horses in here. All up against the reservation or wherever they are coming from.
4. Tell the world. Now this, I'm sure, is not your favorite. If you had New York City filmmakers out here interviewing the locals, they would make us look bad. To them, wild horses are the coolest thing on earth. To us, we're shrugging our shoulders when a few of them get shot. It's a difference in perception. You don't want those guys coming around, pick from #1-3 fast. This is our problem, so let's solve it. These horses can live in our world; in fact we want them to. They're good for us. They're beautiful. And they're free, as long as we leave them that way. Let's make sure they stay away from the village schoolchildren though, ok?
5. Do some policing. It probably is possible to figure out who's going around murdering horses. It's undoubtedly someone who is more than well-armed, eager to use his gun, and thinking if it's ok with him and his friends, it's ok. NO IT'S NOT. Murder is never ok. Hunting might be ok, if you eat them. Just murdering them is not.
I have given myself away; I love them, and don't want to see them murdered. I like the elk and deer too even though it means I have to drive very carefully every minute. To me it's worth it. It's what makes the mountains special.
Sunday, January 10, 2021
Sedition
If we had better media up here on the mountain, our elected officials would have a better idea of what we feel. But inasmuch as this is my media, I'll at least tell you what I feel here.
The election was fair. Wasn't perfect, wasn't flawless, but I'll tell you this: Trump did not win by a landslide. He didn't even win. He didn't win at all. He's making that crap up, and people are grandstanding around trying to make it seem like they support him entirely. How? By putting down our voting clerks?
SO are you going to trash out our system and our democracy, why, to show you're all in for Trump? Are you going to storm the Capitol and shed some blood?
Well now you're talking armed insurrection, and I'd say, that's sedition. You are leading a revolt against the American government as we know it, and I think they should throw the book at you.
I marched once at Nixon's inauguration. I was against it. It was a very cold January, and the DC police had school buses squeezed so tight you couldn't get near anything that mattered. I wondered whether I should get right up front where the camera could see me shouting things like "Down with Nixon!" But at that point he had already broken in to the Democratic headquarters. Sometimes our presidents are crooks, and sometimes they get elected anyway. That's the way it goes.
But right now, I'm grateful that we have a system. That we have police, and use them; that we have courts, and use them; that we count votes, and the winner wins. This is much better than Russia though you may need to be reminded. We look up to Russia, we admire Russia, we like how they deal with dissent and all, but we don't want to be like Russia. It's much better this way.
I'm proud to live in the mountains and to have the neighbors I do. Wouldn't trade it for anything.
The election was fair. Wasn't perfect, wasn't flawless, but I'll tell you this: Trump did not win by a landslide. He didn't even win. He didn't win at all. He's making that crap up, and people are grandstanding around trying to make it seem like they support him entirely. How? By putting down our voting clerks?
SO are you going to trash out our system and our democracy, why, to show you're all in for Trump? Are you going to storm the Capitol and shed some blood?
Well now you're talking armed insurrection, and I'd say, that's sedition. You are leading a revolt against the American government as we know it, and I think they should throw the book at you.
I marched once at Nixon's inauguration. I was against it. It was a very cold January, and the DC police had school buses squeezed so tight you couldn't get near anything that mattered. I wondered whether I should get right up front where the camera could see me shouting things like "Down with Nixon!" But at that point he had already broken in to the Democratic headquarters. Sometimes our presidents are crooks, and sometimes they get elected anyway. That's the way it goes.
But right now, I'm grateful that we have a system. That we have police, and use them; that we have courts, and use them; that we count votes, and the winner wins. This is much better than Russia though you may need to be reminded. We look up to Russia, we admire Russia, we like how they deal with dissent and all, but we don't want to be like Russia. It's much better this way.
I'm proud to live in the mountains and to have the neighbors I do. Wouldn't trade it for anything.
Monday, December 7, 2020
casting off one's illusions
OK so I'll admit it, I didn't get very far with my idea of this site being a media hub. It was a good idea, but I never quite got the time and the motivation in one place (two coins to click together) to really make it happen.
But another thing has happened: because of the pandemic, we have been spending more time at home in Sixteen Springs. And because I have come to see them (our canyon, and Cloudcroft) as two different places, I have renamed my original journal for the Springs and am deciding to make this one a place to rant at the village about village issues.
Cloudcroft is a place of 800 people and maybe 20 covid cases. It's like anyplace else in that it has a wide variety of perspectives and political leanings. I tend to be non-political in a situation like this; I still have the mind to be a media-type guy who presents the news and lets people make up their own mind. But now, I have to admit, this didn't go anywhere as a media site. It was because I never developed it that way.
I have fifteen writing projects on the table, so I'm not making this a media site today anyway. So we'll just carry on, as is, and you will see it develop slowly. I am grateful to be in Cloudcroft, and Sixteen Springs. These places have been good to me. It is not my intent to stir up trouble or cause division in our community. Rather, I want to just put forward things that will educated and inform, possibly record a little of what I've learned, for my own benefit. I hope you enjoy it!
But another thing has happened: because of the pandemic, we have been spending more time at home in Sixteen Springs. And because I have come to see them (our canyon, and Cloudcroft) as two different places, I have renamed my original journal for the Springs and am deciding to make this one a place to rant at the village about village issues.
Cloudcroft is a place of 800 people and maybe 20 covid cases. It's like anyplace else in that it has a wide variety of perspectives and political leanings. I tend to be non-political in a situation like this; I still have the mind to be a media-type guy who presents the news and lets people make up their own mind. But now, I have to admit, this didn't go anywhere as a media site. It was because I never developed it that way.
I have fifteen writing projects on the table, so I'm not making this a media site today anyway. So we'll just carry on, as is, and you will see it develop slowly. I am grateful to be in Cloudcroft, and Sixteen Springs. These places have been good to me. It is not my intent to stir up trouble or cause division in our community. Rather, I want to just put forward things that will educated and inform, possibly record a little of what I've learned, for my own benefit. I hope you enjoy it!
Monday, September 14, 2020
Local News/September
Dead Birds
Growing number of dead birds in southern New Mexico raise alarm for wildlife experts, KOB
'Hundreds of thousands, if not millions': New Mexico sees massive migratory bird deaths, LC Sun
Covid
Most New Mexico voters approve of Gov. Lujan Grisham's COVID-19 response, ABQ Journal, LC Sun
Lincoln Nat'l Forest
30,000 visitors leave tons of trash in Lincoln National Forest, Ruidoso News
Growing number of dead birds in southern New Mexico raise alarm for wildlife experts, KOB
'Hundreds of thousands, if not millions': New Mexico sees massive migratory bird deaths, LC Sun
Covid
Most New Mexico voters approve of Gov. Lujan Grisham's COVID-19 response, ABQ Journal, LC Sun
Lincoln Nat'l Forest
30,000 visitors leave tons of trash in Lincoln National Forest, Ruidoso News
Saturday, September 5, 2020
Media black hole
I get agitated about the media situation up here (see posts below). I huff around and threaten to start my own online media outlet. (that would be here, if it were to happen). I am dragging my feet though. I'll explain why.
First, I have teenagers who find it their biological imperative to get out and be with other teens. One will pressure us every minute she's home just to go uptown and be with her friends. This is very stressful for us as we are older and vulnerable. I have half a mind to just go into town, run a media outlet and keep my eye on them, but instead, I have other projects going and I end up back here building and doing stuff. Rents are expensive in the village. I'm not about to plunk down that kind of cash just to be there, and to make their life less interesting. I figure if they think Cloudcroft is an urban center with great excitement and the kind of people they love, then more power to them.
It's partly because covid hasn't made it here yet. Yes I know, the minute it shows up they'll spread it around, because they really aren't that careful, but for the time being we seem to be safe. They are an isolated bunch with limited exposure to the outside world. And they do most of their relating outside.
No really the reason is that it would be a serious job. I would not do it if I wasn't willing to check the sources every day. And if I even have a few days where I don't check, I'd be blowing it. I don't want to blow it. I want, that if it's here, it looks good. It has sources for people to use. It is a site worth visiting.
To that end I haven't even begun developing it. What is stopping me? Not sure. I'm not sure I want to relate to my neighbors as a media star. Of any kind. I don't hardly know them as it is.
That's enough. The project is on stall, because I just haven't developed it. That's not to say we don't need it. That's to say, I'm not ready to do it myself. Just too busy, is all.
First, I have teenagers who find it their biological imperative to get out and be with other teens. One will pressure us every minute she's home just to go uptown and be with her friends. This is very stressful for us as we are older and vulnerable. I have half a mind to just go into town, run a media outlet and keep my eye on them, but instead, I have other projects going and I end up back here building and doing stuff. Rents are expensive in the village. I'm not about to plunk down that kind of cash just to be there, and to make their life less interesting. I figure if they think Cloudcroft is an urban center with great excitement and the kind of people they love, then more power to them.
It's partly because covid hasn't made it here yet. Yes I know, the minute it shows up they'll spread it around, because they really aren't that careful, but for the time being we seem to be safe. They are an isolated bunch with limited exposure to the outside world. And they do most of their relating outside.
No really the reason is that it would be a serious job. I would not do it if I wasn't willing to check the sources every day. And if I even have a few days where I don't check, I'd be blowing it. I don't want to blow it. I want, that if it's here, it looks good. It has sources for people to use. It is a site worth visiting.
To that end I haven't even begun developing it. What is stopping me? Not sure. I'm not sure I want to relate to my neighbors as a media star. Of any kind. I don't hardly know them as it is.
That's enough. The project is on stall, because I just haven't developed it. That's not to say we don't need it. That's to say, I'm not ready to do it myself. Just too busy, is all.
Thursday, August 20, 2020
covid comes to town
Another media disaster is that the covid hit Cloudcroft, and nobody knew. Now in this kind of media disaster I think we can call it a disaster, since human lives could be at stake. Everyone knows covid kills, everyone knows how it works, nobody doubted it would get here someday - but when it did, what happened?
Actually the I LOVE CLOUDCROFT facebook site had it and handled it pretty well. It's the third site, after the Community site and the 700 site. On the Community site, which I would say is the main one (most followers), a post about it was simply deleted. Too controversial? It could be that everything even mentioning the coronavirus was drawing blood at this particular site.
But that left us with almost nobody. The fact is, we don't really have a media outlet on the mountain. And I'm not sure I want to start one, though I could possibly save lives.
People need to know this stuff. They don't need to know who brought it, or any of those details - but to be left totally in the dark, that's not right.
Actually the I LOVE CLOUDCROFT facebook site had it and handled it pretty well. It's the third site, after the Community site and the 700 site. On the Community site, which I would say is the main one (most followers), a post about it was simply deleted. Too controversial? It could be that everything even mentioning the coronavirus was drawing blood at this particular site.
But that left us with almost nobody. The fact is, we don't really have a media outlet on the mountain. And I'm not sure I want to start one, though I could possibly save lives.
People need to know this stuff. They don't need to know who brought it, or any of those details - but to be left totally in the dark, that's not right.
Saturday, August 15, 2020
Dark Canyon Media Disaster
An article has been on top of my local news feed for about a week, about a fire in Dark Canyon. It identifies Dark Canyon as being 8 miles from Cloudcroft.
KTSM Staff. (2020, Aug. 10). Firefighters battling Dark Canyon fire near Cloudcroft. KTSM.
There are two problems with this article that make it a media disaster. First is that it is the only article there is out there, about the fire, and has been for five days. So this is not KTSM's fault; they at least got a story no one else got.
But the problem that irks me is that it identifies two different Dark Canyons; one is north of Capitan, and the other one is eight miles from Cloudcroft. I could tell by reading the article that the fire could not be in both places, as you can't be eight miles from Cloudcroft and northwest of Capitan at the same time. But I didn't know where the fire was. The headline identified it as near Cloudcroft; the article mentioned both Cloudroft and Capitan as they were the same.
After a few days local people confirmed for me that the fire was near Capitan, not Cloudcroft. Facebook turned out to be a better source of information than local media, the writers of whom did not really know the difference between Cloudcroft and Capitan. We have no media here. Alamogordo didn't even pick up the story.
Maybe the fire was a nothing, and didn't really matter. It is, after all, rainy season, so most of us are taking a breath and enjoying the fact that one cigarette is not going to burn down the entire forest, at least not at the moment. But we're a very fire-wary culture, and a headline that says someone is battling a fire near Cloudcroft, most of us are going to read the article.
Too bad. We could use a media outlet around here.
KTSM Staff. (2020, Aug. 10). Firefighters battling Dark Canyon fire near Cloudcroft. KTSM.
There are two problems with this article that make it a media disaster. First is that it is the only article there is out there, about the fire, and has been for five days. So this is not KTSM's fault; they at least got a story no one else got.
But the problem that irks me is that it identifies two different Dark Canyons; one is north of Capitan, and the other one is eight miles from Cloudcroft. I could tell by reading the article that the fire could not be in both places, as you can't be eight miles from Cloudcroft and northwest of Capitan at the same time. But I didn't know where the fire was. The headline identified it as near Cloudcroft; the article mentioned both Cloudroft and Capitan as they were the same.
After a few days local people confirmed for me that the fire was near Capitan, not Cloudcroft. Facebook turned out to be a better source of information than local media, the writers of whom did not really know the difference between Cloudcroft and Capitan. We have no media here. Alamogordo didn't even pick up the story.
Maybe the fire was a nothing, and didn't really matter. It is, after all, rainy season, so most of us are taking a breath and enjoying the fact that one cigarette is not going to burn down the entire forest, at least not at the moment. But we're a very fire-wary culture, and a headline that says someone is battling a fire near Cloudcroft, most of us are going to read the article.
Too bad. We could use a media outlet around here.
Friday, July 10, 2020
Local News/July
Shutdown, Virus
New Mexico governor orders no indoor restaurant dining, no fall football or soccer due to virus, KVIA, El Paso
Virus spread rate highest in southwestern NM
Wildfire
Ojo de los Casos Fire burns 90 acres on north Manzano Mountains, KOB Albuquerque
NMSU
NMSU administrators address reopening, budget cuts, LC Sun News
New Mexico governor orders no indoor restaurant dining, no fall football or soccer due to virus, KVIA, El Paso
Virus spread rate highest in southwestern NM
Wildfire
Ojo de los Casos Fire burns 90 acres on north Manzano Mountains, KOB Albuquerque
NMSU
NMSU administrators address reopening, budget cuts, LC Sun News
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