A text during dinner, she looks across, asks a question,
“Do you want to help?”
Of course.
We drive to her office, pick up the technician, along with stretcher, blankets, medical bag, everything needed.
Sheets of rain, I’m driving my car, slowly, safely, but can barely see the road.
The scene is a brightly lit garage, friends and neighbors with their dogs.
Roscoe can no longer walk, and tonight his friends walked to him. 150 lbs. of calm and friendly, 15 years old. His nickname: “The Mayor”.
The young technician and I wait in the car, lightly chatting, my friend attending. She sits with the group, they are laughing. She brings an easy feeling to the crowd, to her friend.
When we are called, we get out and we wait, silently, respectfully, behind the group. The rain has largely passed. A man is singing a silly song.
The technician enters the group, helps, and then returns to the background.
An hour, perhaps, and we gently lift Roscoe into my car. Hugs, and more hugs. He’s gone.
A long drive back. Paperwork. I help carry Roscoe into the hospital. It is late, dark, quiet.
Then I drop off my friend. I play with her dogs for just a minute, and return home to Zeus, who greets me with a “Where were you?” examination with his nose and his panting.
More hugs.
I’ve been listening to a lot of entertaining, powerful, and personally challenging podcasts lately – the kind of histories, analyses, and backstory anecdotes that could be enjoyed wholly on the surface, but invite me to dive far deeper than simple interest – they compel to the point of holding hostage bedrock assumptions I make about myself and others. They shine a light onto and into motivations, notions, behaviors, beliefs, and convictions, and proceed to push through them, excavating and discovering the depths.
This material, rooted in human experience, history, justice, and psychology, was intended to provoke curiosity and critical evaluation, and was crafted with such persuasive skill as to sate and pique simultaneously.
I had intended that my last full day of the trip be local to Albuquerque. However, there I was, aching feet, a whole day left, unlimited miles on the rental car, and no set schedule.
I drove to the southeast corner of town to the National Museum of Nuclear Science and History just as it opened. The rest of ABQ was driving to work. Dispite fifteen minutes of chaos as the museum’s summer campers arrived, I nearly had the place to myself. One docent, a former Los Alamos scientist, offered interesting tidbits on the exhibits.
This story continues from Travelogue #3.
After an exhausting hike through the Sandia foothills, I was back in the rental car. Now, this car was fantastic, not like the small SUV I drive. It had a ton of features I’ve come to enjoy, like a large GPS screen, backup camera, and Bluetooth, but also safety features like sonar that lit up indicator lights to indicate obstructions all around the car, and automatic speed matching to the car in front of me if in cruise control. Tons of room, sunroof, leather seats. It was a 2018 Nissan Maxima. I ended up putting over 1000 miles on it over the week, plus a coat of New Mexico dust. Being able to DJ my own road trip from my phone, even without cell signal, was a big plus.
This blog does a some time travelling.
In Post #1, I wrote about Alburquerque, the “place” (much of which needs to be updated having spent a few more days there and gaining additional insight into this town’s diversity). This post will revisit some of the actual trip details and impressions from the first few days.
I stayed in a hotel or motel every night. Camping options were limited with the closure of much of the backcountry due to ongoing dry conditions throughout the state. That’s honestly not a complete reason. There are campgrounds all over the place, but spots in the National Parks, Forests, Recreational Areas, etc, have to be reserved in advance. More truthfully, the package I purchased had a hotel in ABQ as part of the deal, and the idea of exploring northwest New Mexico as if spokes on a wheel, where the hub had a hot shower and pillows was better than private campgrounds and shipping or renting a tent, etc.
West and north of Albuquerque, as I drove several hours, first through majestic, rugged mountains, I became accustomed to the driving experience where atop every climb through a pass, the world would open into a enormous scene of expansive plateaus with sporadic formations thrusting upward, islands of rock and trees.
