I’ve completed my first week as a clerk in an early voting polling place at the Mesilla Town Hall.

Everything has run smoothly, except for a couple of hiccups I created when registering people to vote. My fat fingers on a tiny keyboard didn’t help and some misunderstanding on birth dates and name spelling by both me and my registering voters were to blame. We got it sorted out, and everyone got to vote.

Nothing has happened that would suggest any vote tampering. It simply isn’t possible at the level I’m working at with the abundant checks and balances that are in place.

Nevertheless, we’ve had at least 10 Republican challengers (more like observers) show up to watch what we’re doing to make sure everything is above board. They’ve asked a lot of questions, which we’ve been able to answer. Unfortunately, the only person who was turned down to vote was a Republican. It seems his wife accidentally sent in his absentee ballot, which had already been counted. The County Clerk’s office is trying to work through the issue and hopefully, he will be able to case his own vote. We’ve only had one Democrat show up to observe. I’m glad all are there to see the process in action.

Our early voting polling location crew of eight people includes five Democrats, three independents and no Republicans. I am sorry there are no Republicans. From what I’ve been told, there were not enough GOP members who volunteered for the election jobs to make sure there was representation by both parties at all polling locations.

Tedium is the biggest issue I’ve faced so far. There is a lot of waiting around for people to come to the polling place. Most of them simply vote and don’t see me for same day voter registration. A few, however, are new to the area and need to have their voter registration changed to reflect their new address. A couple were new to the state, but had all the proper credentials to vote — at minimum a confirmed local address and a photo ID.

In between those times when I help people register to vote, I’m reading books, chatting with my fellow poll workers or taking strolls around the building. But mostly, it’s really a lot of deadly time killing.

We usually have a burst of voting activity right when polls open, then a steady stream of voters until mid afternoon followed by the time-dragging last three hours before polls close at 7 p.m.

So far, my most interesting experience involved the change in registration for an elderly man who had moved from Rio Arriba to Dona Ana County. He was assisted by his daughter and granddaughter, who apparently live in the Las Cruces area.

As I went through the relatively simple process of changing his address so he could vote in Dona Ana County, he was asked what his party affiliation was. He had previously been registered as a Democrat — not unsurprising for someone from Rio Arriba County where the Democratic party has had a stronghold even since before the legendary party boss Emilio Naranjo ruled the roost there. But he said he wanted to be a Republican.

His daughter and granddaughter thought he had made a mistake.

“Don’t you mean Democrat?” the daughter asked.

“No, Republican,” he answered.

“Really, are you sure?” asked the granddaughter, her eyes rolling in protest.

“Yes, Republican,” he said.

The daughter and granddaughter accompanied him to get his ballot, then helped him vote, which I’m certain resulted in more eye rolling and some votes for the relatively few GOP candidates on the Dona Ana County ballot.

At my temporary job as an election clerk for the November general election, I’ve been tasked with doing same day voter registrations. We don’t expect many of them — at least at my polling site — but we do have to follow specific procedures in order to register someone on the same day.

One of our primary conditions for approving a same day voter registration request is confirmation of a local address within Dona Ana County.

Two Sundays ago, a homeless man named Keith came to our church and sat in on the service. He even put five pennies in our collection plate and asked for a copy of the Bible, which I gave him.  I noticed last Sunday that he had signed our guest book. I’ve edited out his last name, phone number and information about a previous guest. Our homeless guest, listed his address simply as “under the bridge,” apparently meaning the bridge on I-10 over South Main adjacent to our church.

I doubt this would qualify as an approved local address, so Keith probably wouldn’t be able to register to vote.  He did, however, seem to have a phone with an area code (575) number, which is proper for Dona Ana County. And I noticed that his home church is “open.” 

He seemed like an intelligent, decent guy — much easier to deal with than previous homeless people I’ve written about who have appeared at our church. It just makes one wonder what led up to his current situation.  I hope that some day his address will be more permanent than “under the bridge” and that he can register to vote if he wishes.  

During the next couple of weeks, my posts may be a bit sporadic — if at all. I decided earlier this year to answer the call for people to serve as election clerks in Dona Ana County and I’ve been assigned to do an early voting job in Mesilla starting Saturday, Oct. 22. By the time you read this post, I will have worked my first shift.

With all the rhetoric surrounding the security of our elections, I thought it would be worthwhile to volunteer my time to get involved in the vote gathering process.

I’ve already attended a couple of training sessions and my role will be to process same day registration requests.

My observation so far is that the entire election process, at least here in Dona Ana County, is very professionally done with multiple security steps to ensure that the process is free of any outside influences, political or otherwise. No one has told me to flip a switch to favor certain candidates or do anything like that.

However, when doing my training last week to check the absentee ballot drop box outside the Mesilla Town Hall, my trainer, Carlos, passed on some interesting information. I asked him if the drop boxes sometimes contained unusual things that people had dropped in them.

“It’s pretty hard to get anything large in there because the slot is so small,” he said. “However, at the Las Cruces City Hall drop box, there are occasionally black widow spiders living inside that you have to be careful about.”

So is a spider infestation a Democrat or Republican ploy to keep voters away? Or just a random act of nature? I’m sure it is the latter, but if you have comments or thoughts, I’d love to see them. And with the recent infestation of scorpions in our neighborhood in Mesilla Park and probably in Mesilla, I hope none of those critters decide to make a home in the drop box I will be attending.

So far, I’ve been sort of overwhelmed by learning the acronyms for the process and remembering the steps I have to go through to take same day registration requests. I still have a lot of “what if” questions, but I think I can get the job done.

There was a story in the Albuquerque Journal last week quoting our Secretary of State, Maggie Toulouse Oliver that she expects additional challenges during the election process this year. I can understand that, given the current political climate, and am looking forward to see how that may play out in what I will be doing.

At any rate, I promise to be completely apolitical during the process (I willingly took an oath to that effect) but I will be observant about what I may report on this blog in the future. Because I’ll be working several hours per day, I may not have time to write new blog posts, so I hope you’ll forgive me for the lapses.

Last weekend, I attended a reunion of the New Mexico State University rugby team, which I coached for many years starting in the early 1980s. I think I was coach for more than 10 years. During that time, I had one team which finished third in the national championships, several teams which won regional championships and had the pleasure of coaching two fine young men who ended up being All Americans in rugby.

I wish I could say all the successes we had were because I was a great coach, but as they say — when the team wins, it’s because you have great athletes, but when you lose, it’s the coach’s fault.

I also had the pleasure of coaching my two children’s youth soccer teams, beginning when they were in elementary school and going through middle school. In retrospect, I’m not convinced the difference in attention span between elementary kids and testosterone fueled college guys was much different. But that’s what makes it challenging, entertaining and fulfilling.

I’m proud to say that most of the rugby players I coached have turned out to be fine young men, with families and good careers. And most of the kids I coached in soccer have turned out to be fine mothers, fathers, public servants and career successes. And ironically, one of the kids I coached on my son’s soccer team in middle school ended up playing rugby at NMSU after I finished coaching that sport.

I’m convinced that everyone who has the opportunity should coach young men and women in some sport. It is a black hole for time and energy and is often frustrating, but in the end well worth it. Coaching rugby was particularly gratifying in that none of the young men had ever played — much less seen — the sport before. Unlike football, baseball or basketball, rugby was completely new to them and they really listened to what the coach said.

Here are some comments I got from former players following the reunion:

“I’ve always appreciated everything you’ve done for me and this rugby family. You were a great coach…”

“I’m really glad you convinced me to keep playing prop (a position on the front row of the scrum). I wanted to play flanker, but you said I could go further if I stayed with being a prop, and you were right.” (This was from a young man who ended up being one of my two All American players).

“… it’s hard to believe how much fun we had and the huge impact you had on so many players, myself included.”

“Thanks for everything you have done for us as young men and the club in general.”

It made me feel that I’ve done some good during my life.

I read with amusement in last week’s Albuquerque Journal about some skullduggery by two contestants in an Ohio walleye fishing tournament. The two claimed to have won the tournament by catching fish that weighed more than those of any of the other contestants.

After some eyebrows were raised because the winning fish seemed to be much heavier than comparably sized walleye, they were slit open to reveal that someone had added weight to them with some lead pellets and fillets from another fish. The contestants were disqualified and are now facing charges.

I focused on this because my wife and I just returned from Northern New Mexico on a great fly fishing adventure with another couple, Dave and Gloria, who we’ve known for years.

All of us caught nice fish on the trip. Gloria had the biggest and Margo caught the most. None of them were stuffed with lead pellets or fillets from other fish. All were returned to the river.

The fish we caught were on the Rio Costilla, about 45 miles north of Taos near the Colorado border. It was beautiful fall weather, with a new dusting of snow on top of the Sangre de Cristo mountains and vibrant fall colors in the valley.

No, I won’t tell you exactly where our best fishing spots were or even the name of the place we stayed. I will, however, guarantee that our fishing stories will get bigger — not heavier. 

The October 2022 issue of Car and Driver magazine arrived in my mailbox last week and included a story which triggered memories of another story which I helped circulate many years ago when I was New Mexico bureau manager for United Press International.

The story in the car magazine talked about research being done on a plant called guayule (pronounced wy-OO-lee). This desert shrub grows in the arid Chihuahuan desert of southern New Mexico, southeastern Arizona, far west Texas and parts of northern Mexico.

The research involves extracting a rubber substitute from the bush to replace rubber produced from more typical rubber trees, mostly grown in tropical areas of South America.

The story from years ago was written by a member of my staff at UPI, John Webster, a talented journalist who had a knack for finding interesting science related stories. We distributed his story on national wires regarding research being done at New Mexico State University to grow the plant commercially.

I hadn’t read any stories about the plant or the research for years, but always wondered what might have happened to plans to develop the plant as a more sustainable rubber substitute.

As it turns out, tire maker Bridgestone has been continuing its research into guayule and has already started testing tires made from rubber from the plant. It plans to begin commercial production of tires made from guayule rubber in 2030.

(Full disclosure: My new GMC pickup was equipped from the factory with Bridgestone tires — unfortunately made from regular rubber. I’m hoping when I wear them out, I can replace them with tires from rubber grown in New Mexico, but that depends on whether my current tires will last that long — not likely.)😉

There are many good things to recommend guayule rubber, according to the Car and Driver article. Being native to the arid high desert, the plants don’t require much water, can grow in rocky-sandy soil that doesn’t suit many other plants and grow in areas that would not otherwise be used for food plants. The article also notes that there are “no transoceanic supply chain issues, (and it) is far less labor intensive than (traditional rubber)… to grow and harvest.” The plants also seem to be naturally resistant to pests and the harvesting process is mechanized, as opposed to hand-harvesting rubber from traditional plants.

So promising is guayule that Bridgestone plans to invest another $42 million toward operations to expand the research and development program. Unfortunately, most of the company’s research is currently being done near Eloy, AZ, and not in New Mexico at this time.

Here’s a website link to Bridgestone’s guayule research.

https://www.bridgestone.com/technology_innovation/natural_rubber/guayule/

The rubber is also hypoallergenic, which makes it an ideal application in the medical field and may also produce biofuels and other bio-based chemicals.

I did a follow up to see if NMSU is still doing research on guayule and through the help of my good friend and former Acting Dean of the College of Agriculture, Consumer and Environmental Sciences (ACES), Dr. Jim Libbin, found someone still involved. He is Dr. Kulbhushan Grover, an Associate Professor of Sustainable Crop Production with the College of ACES who came to NMSU in 2009. Originally from India, he was most informative, enthusiastic and a delight to give me more information about research into finding what kinds of productive commercial crops can grow in arid lands (think New Mexico). Most of his research now focuses on another desert plant, guer (pronounced GOO-are) that produces a gum that can be used in a variety of consumer products like cosmetics and certain foods. Dr. Grover said its biggest application currently is in the fracking process used in so many oilfields these days.

NMSU’s original work on guayule started many years ago with a federal grant that drew in collaborators from the University of Arizona, Colorado State University, the U.S. Department of Agriculture, Bridgestone and others.

There is still some guayule research going on here and specimens of the plant are currently being grown in one of NMSU’s experimental farms (possibly at the Fabian Garcia Research Center — literally just down the street and around the corner from where we live. I plan to check it out.)

Dr. Grover game me the name of a professor currently working on that research and I’ll probably give him a call in a couple of weeks to find out what’s new.

I’m sorry if this was boring to a lot of you, but I think research like this at our public universities is a bright spot in New Mexico that we need to know about and appreciate why our Land of Enchantment is such a special place.

This will be kind of a mish-mash of short subjects that occurred to me last week and during one mostly sleepless night when a late evening glass of iced tea was responsible for my caffeine-charged brain wandering around aimlessly in my skull.

__________

The first involved a trip to the Southern New Mexico Fair, where we attended the “Ranchers Rodeo”. We got there early enough to enjoy all the usual hoopla and pageantry that seems to be required for any rodeo event that I’ve ever attended.

Of course one of those elements was the singing of the national anthem. The rodeo organizers had lined up a talented female singer with a strong voice that would carry easily through the noisy indoor-outdoor arena. Unfortunately, in preparation for the first event of the rodeo, about a dozen calves had been penned up in the center of the arena. When the woman began singing the young cows responded with unabated loud bellows for their mothers. It was as if they were singing along with her.

I recorded it on my I-phone because I thought it was so hysterical, but unfortunately the endless sorrowful moos of the calves were drowned out by a more powerful PA system so I decided the video wasn’t worth including. I hope the young singer didn’t feel offended by the calves response to her performance.

__________

I have no idea why I thought of this.

While working in Albuquerque about 10 years ago, one of my colleagues was discussing her family roots in the city. It turns out her father was a hard working plumber who had retired after many years doing a job many of us home owners dread doing ourselves.

When I asked her what her father was doing in his retirement years, she answered in a manner that left me nonplussed

“He’s writing a book on the history of the plumbing industry in Albuquerque.,” she answered, possibly with a slight tone of embarrassment in her voice.

You can’t beat that for page-turning reading.

__________

When in Ruidoso recently, I spotted this vehicle at a car show.

Aside from its eye-popping color scheme and ridiculously tall rear wing, the thing that most drew my attention was the heart-shaped tow ring at the right rear of the car. It was rather flimsy looking, and I’m not sure it would have endured even a minor tug from a Ford F150 four-wheel drive truck to pull it out of a snow drift.

I’ll leave it to you to interpret that feature.

__________

Speaking of cars, my sister informed me after reading my recent blog that she had no memory of my near-death experience when she launched our 63 Chevy Belair station wagon into the stratosphere as it zoomed over the top of “Thrill Hill” in Ruidoso. I guess as a perpetrator of such a potentially life-altering event, her brain had erased it some years ago. 

What both of us did remember, however, was when she was flung out of the back door of our 57 Chevy 210 sedan when it rounded a sharp corner. She was leaning against the right rear door of the vehicle when my mother rounded a corner on the main street in Ruidoso. The door had apparently not been properly latched and seat belts were a thing of the future. I was sitting on the left side of the back seat when I saw her tumble out of car and disappear in a cloud of dust. I don’t remember her crying or making a big fuss about it, but from that point on she made darn certain that her door was shut properly.

I attribute that incident to her lifelong passion for following the rules. And maybe having an occasionally weird hiccup in her brain.

And speaking of dumb things that happen to teenagers in cars, I also recall an incident in which I almost impaled myself with a falling tree top. I had acquired a World War II surplus Ford-manufactured Jeep that I drove to high school and used to explore the back roads of Ruidoso. On several occasions, I got it stuck on a back road and had to be rescued by a giant four-wheel-drive tow truck. I did dumb things in it. 

Full of invincible teen-age hormones, I was always seeking new tricks that I could do with the virtually indestructible Jeep. On one trip, I spotted a dead ponderosa pine that I was sure I could topple with a solid punch of my all-steel front bumper while the Jeep was in low-range four-wheel-drive mode. When I hit the trunk of the tree with a jarring thud, the bottom part of it remained intact. Then I heard a snap and looked up to see at least 20 feet of the top of the tree hurtling down directly toward me in the driver’s seat. Luckily, we wore no seatbelts at the time, and I was able to eject myself from the Jeep before the top part of the tree hit my seat, leaving a ragged hole in the cushion where I would have been sitting.

Who says kids don’t have guardian angels?

_________

And lastly — I’m sure you wanted to know this — I captured another squirrel this week. During my squirrel eradication campaign, I managed to trap six and Chester nabbed one. I hope the one I got earlier this week the last one. 

My disposition of the critter was not a fond memory, however. I had been taking them to a field south of Mesilla where there was lots of cover, water and a pecan grove nearby. This time, I decided to cut corners and stopped at a vacant lot just west of us to let it out under a thicket of pecan tree trimmings. 

Just as I let it out, I heard a booming voice behind me asking “what did you just release?”

“A squirrel,” I said as I turned to see a stern looking young man who had approached me  unnoticed from behind.

“Is this lot your property?” I asked sheepishly.

“Yes, and we already have enough of those around here,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that again.”

I apologized profusely, never suspecting that the weed-infested lot was something that anyone nearby owned. I drove away quickly, continuing to apologize and hoping he did not write down my license plate number.

Lesson learned.

But at least I think (hope) I’m out of the squirrel trapping business. 

You’ve got to give it up to the kids in Clovis. They know how to get in on the latest online challenges. And also how to get the attention of their school nurses.

A report last week said that the nursing staff in Clovis schools had suddenly been inundated with treating kids eating a new kind of hot chile flavored snack — Paqui.

Apparently it is a single corn chip slathered in Carolina Reaper and Scorpion pepper and then — just for the effect — sold in a coffin-shaped package for about $5. To entice people to try it, there has been a “One Chip Challenge.”

An e-mail was sent out by the Clovis schools urging parents to tell their kids not to participate in the challenge.

“As of Friday (Sept. 16), more than 20 students in our district have required medical intervention after either ingesting of touching One Chip Challenge Chips,” the school memo said.

Some of you may remember that when Flamin’ Hot Cheetos were first introduced, many kids became semi addicted to them. In fact, a health official in an unidentified New Mexico school district sent out an impassioned warning to parents saying kids should avoid the snack. She mentioned that the snack could cause health problems from eating such a spicy food, gave a warning that germs could be spread by kids sharing the Cheetos and raised the issue of how much trouble it was to scrub off sticky red fingerprints on school desks and tables. Another school district in Illinois completely banned them.

My thought is that if incredibly spicy foods made from chiles entice people to participate in goofy challenges, why can’t we create our own New Mexico hot chile challenge? I mean, we are the chile capitol of the world, right? I know our own New Mexico State University has done research on the incredibly hot “ghost chile” or bhut jolokia. So why not challenge people to each so much of it that they hallucinate and start seeing ghosts? 

Okay, bad idea. Someone will probably try that and I’ll get blamed for it. And then I’ll have to clean up all those smudged red fingerprints on water glasses and on their cell phone screens when they had to call an EMS team. 

An article in this week’s Albuquerque Journal announced that the iconic slope in the center outfield of Isotopes Park was being removed.

It was a unique feature that was installed when the park was completely redesigned in 2003 in an apparent nod toward eliminating the “cookie cutter” approach to baseball parks that had been panned in the previous decade. And although there were never any recorded injuries to players, the “thrill hill” feature is being eliminated in the interest of safety.

The slope was a tricky challenge for center fielders who had to gauge the edge of the outfield with a warning track then negotiate the 20 to 30 degree upslope when looking up at the sky to try to snag a long ball. I think I can recall a few stumbles when players caught near home runs on the slope, but nothing dangerous.

For the Isotopes pitchers, it became a boon when they gave up a long blast to center field and forced opposing outfielders to stumble with the change in terrain and miss the ball. For Isotopes outfielders, it became a familiar challenge and friend that they mastered better than their opponents.

In one way, it reminded me of a section of a street in my home town of Ruidoso where a sharp rise between two small valleys created an exciting experience in a car for teen-aged drivers. If you were driving about 40 miles per hour on the street, you’d experience momentary weightlessness and shrieks from passengers as you went over what became known as “Thrill Hill.” Eventually the local traffic engineers and cops figured out what was going on with the local kids and knocked off the top 15 feet or so of the hill and smoothed out the approach to it so there was no more “thrill.”

I particularly remember an incident when my sister was at the wheel of our ’63 Chevy station wagon and drove over the crest at what was probably an irresponsible rate of speed. When she got to the top of the hill and the lumbering Chevy briefly became airborne, she apparently became afraid she would be tossed so far up that she would no longer be able to reach the brakes. She responsively put her right hand up to the headliner to keep her planted in her seat, but unintentionally jerked the steering wheel about a quarter of a turn to the left. When we landed, the mushy two-ply Goodyear whitewall tires on the Bel Air wagon howled and pitched us into the opposing lane before she could correct our trajectory. Luckily no one else was approaching from the other direction and we all survived. The only damage to the vehicle might have been a wet spot on the seat.

I’ve attached a link to the Albuquerque Journal story in case you missed it, along with a video produced by the Isotopes about the end of the “‘Tope Slope.”

Albuquerque Journal link:

https://www.abqjournal.com/2535493/time-to-say-so-long-to-beloved-topes-slope.html

Video link:

Albuquerque Isotopes on Twitter: “After 19 seasons, it’s time to say goodbye to our center field hill. You produced some of our fondest memories and the most spectacular catches. After Wednesday’s 6:35 pm game, fans are invited to take pictures in front of the hill to say goodbye. Thanks for the fun times.✌️ https://t.co/C6OK5VLtrC” / Twitter

Be careful out there. There could be a baby alligator or tiger lurking somewhere in the state.

Police in Albuquerque reported earlier this month that they had received a tip that a juvenile tiger was being held captive in an apartment in the city.

When they checked the apartment, they didn’t find a tiger. They did, however, find a baby alligator and $40,000 in cash, illegal drugs and weapons.

Those who lived in the apartment have been arrested and the alligator has been turned over to an abandoned pet haven.

The search for the tiger, however, goes on. It is believed to weigh between 30 and 60 pounds, is thought to be less than a year old and might be anywhere in the state.

So if Florida, Auburn, LSU, Missouri or Memphis are currently short a live mascot, just check in New Mexico. We might just be able to help you out.

I wrote a blog earlier about how a bunch of Atari video games had been buried in a landfill near Alamogordo as the company was slowly dying in the early 1980s.

Sources say 29 truckloads or almost 800,000 games which could not be sold were dumped in the Alamogordo landfill apparently because the company was in financial stress and the games did not work with the company’s newest game console. After word leaked out that the games had been dumped, people began to sneak into the landfill and pilfer the brand new games. Eventually the dump site was covered over in concrete and people forgot about the treasure trove.

Computer game nerds eventually tracked down the dumping site again and in 2014, with assistance from the city, recovered 1,382 games, including the newly released “E.T” game. About 800 of the games that were recovered were sold in a benefit auction that netted about $107,000 for City of Alamogordo public works projects and the Tularosa Basin Historical Society.

Apparently, 283 more games were kept in seclusion after the 2014 “dig” and will soon be offered on auction on E-Bay, again with proceeds to benefit public works projects in Alamogordo and the Tularosa Basin Historical Society. One hundred of the games will become part of the historical archive. The last time the games were auctioned, the most popular “E.T.” game fetched between $800 and $1,535 per copy. A peek online last week showed that a pristine unopened version of Atari’s “E.T.” has been offered to up to $3,199 on E-Bay.

The date that the games will be offered in auction has not yet been released.

New Mexico has a long and successful history of gold, silver, copper and other mineral mining, oil and gas production and even mining operations for turquoise and other gems. Now digging underground has produced another kind of financial benefit for the state.

And on a side note, I think it would be really cool if Drew Barrymore would come to Alamogordo to help promote the auction.

Our semi-rural neighborhood has always had lots of critters running around in it — skunks, raccoons, foxes, squirrels and even an occasional javelina. It makes the place interesting as long as they don’t invade the house, spray our dog Chester or dig up the yard.

Three weeks ago, we went on a week-long trip to visit our grandkids in California and kept Chester at a kennel during that time.

Apparently that was all it took for the local ground squirrels to decide that our back yard had become abandoned and they proceeded invade a woodpile in the southeast corner of the property. A squirrel airbnb, so to speak. We started noticing them as soon as we came back — a couple of larger adults and a squoggle (my word) of cute babies.

They began to mercilessly torment Chester, who would dash out the back door when he spotted one and fruitlessly try to catch it before it ducked into the cover of the woodpile. Eventually, he snagged one of the baby squirrels, which I guess for a dog is some kind of a rite of passage. He didn’t kill it, but flogged it around in front of us so we could see how brave he was in protecting our home from the rodents. Clearly maimed, I picked it up while it was still lightly breathing and placed it somewhere that I hoped it might recover. I didn’t see it again the next day, and I suspect a cat, fox or sunk may have done it in.

At this point, my wife and I figured we probably needed to do something to get rid of the obvious nest that had been established in the woodpile. We went to Tractor Supply and bought a humane trap and set it out. We used apple slices slathered with peanut butter and topped with pecan half as bait.

In the first day we caught two, one an adult and the other a baby. I caught three more babies last week and am hoping I can snag the four or five more that I believe are still cavorting inside the woodpile and laughing at us and Chester.

I have released all of them west of here in an open field lined with trees on one side, a pecan grove on the other and an irrigation canal nearby. I thought it would be a pretty friendly place for the critters. I hope they all make it and don’t make life too difficult for other homes that are nearby. I do worry that they might get squished while trying to cross the nearby road, but they’re pretty quick. As smart as they appear, I hope they’ re not like dogs or cats who routinely make it back to their original homes.

And we hope they’re sending negative reports to airbnb about our squirrel condo so that others won’t think it’s a cool place to visit.

We’re thinking a squirrel review might read:

“It was a nice place to stay, but it was disconcerting when we noticed many of the guests suddenly disappeared while investigating this large metal thing sitting at the edge of the woodpile.”

Snap. Squeak.

I attended a high school reunion in my home town Ruidoso last weekend, It’s the third or fourth one I’ve been to in the past several years. This one marked our 75th birthdays.

Usually, these events revolve around just two questions:

“Do you remember when we … ?

or

“Whatever happened to old so-and-so… ?

This year’s was a bit different, with much of the conversation focused on health-related issues — knee replacements, cataract surgery, heart issues, arthritis, etc. But as my good friend Jimmy pointed out, it’s actually a good thing because you know you’re not the only one going through these health issues now and you have a support base of friends who may help you cope with these annoyances.

I was pleasantly surprised that there were no political issues that were raised during the conversations at the retreat. I was a bit fearful of that, given that some of my classmates were likely on the opposite spectrum of my political philosophy and I didn’t want to have to wade into any of those kinds of discussions during an otherwise pleasant experience. I think it was a good reminder that most people are inherently good, kind and helpful if you just steer away from political discussions.

Of course, there were some great stories that were told during the weekend. I think forcing yourself to dig into these memories that have been filed away in the furthest corners of your brain is good mental exercise. I especially enjoyed reminiscing about our experiences on the Warrior football team. I didn’t think we won that many games, but my teammates seemed to have fonder memories of our on-field accomplishments, so that was good to hear. I also got to learn more about who I consider my two best friends from high school, Jimmy and Burly (known now more as Lewis).

Burly told a great story about how when he went to elementary school, his faithful dog accompanied him. His teacher allowed the dog to be in the classroom with him during the school day. At the end of the school year, the well-behaved pup got a report card from the teacher. I never heard what the dog’s gradepoint was, but I’m sure he passed. The dog even went to school on his own one day when Burly couldn’t make it. He also said his dog rolled over on his back at school at one point, exposing his private parts and prompting a female classmate to ask “does yours look like that?”

And Jimmy told a story about another classmate named Spike who has become a bit of a free spirit and showed up unannounced at Jimmy’s home in Dallas a few years ago. Apparently not having any permanent place to stay, Jimmy graciously allowed him to bunk there. But Spike didn’t just bring himself. He brought his girlfriend at the time (who may or may not have been pregnant — I can’t remember), his dog and — get this — two parrots. The “visitors” eventually took over Jimmy’s living room as their guest room and stayed longer than Spike had said he would be there. The even-tempered and kind-hearted Jimmy eventually had to nudge them out of the house to reclaim the living room. At last report he (and the parrots) may be living in New Orleans.

Many of my classmates have been successful. Lots of them moved away to become professionals in widespread locations around the country. Several of them have stayed around the Ruidoso area, owning businesses, working in the local schools, contributing to the community, etc. And many of them have done a significant amount of travel. Although a few have died, a surprising number of us are still around.

All in all, not bad for about 50 kids who grew up in a small mountain town in southern New Mexico.

*Those are the words that begin the Ruidoso High School fight song, written by our own band director, LeRoy Gooch. I can still sing the entire thing, especially if I’ve had more than one glass of wine or other lubricant.

You may remember that earlier this year I wrote posts about how Mexican bologna was being smuggled into the United States, much of it through New Mexico. U.S. Customs officials said smuggled bologna was a threat to all Americans and said it was “not funny” that people were making jokes about it.

I mean really, bologna as contraband? Stuffing a spare tire full of bologna to avoid detection? Smelling up neighborhoods in southern Dona Ana County by burning contraband bologna to protect us from ourselves?

I found it amusing immediately launched an in -depth investigation into why the processed meat from Mexico was suddenly such a hot commodity.

Through stealthy investigation, I located a store in Las Cruces which sold it out of a back room, purchased some, and drove home while fully expecting flashing red lights and sirens to chase me down. Once home, I conducted scientific taste tests and came up with these startling conclusions: 1. It tasted pretty much like Oscar Mayer bologna that you can buy at your local Albertson’s. 2. It was a little bit drier. 3. It was a little more expensive than the American-made stuff. 4. Chester, our dog, seemed to like it. 5. I did not die or develop any gastronomic malady from consuming it.

Then after my story broke, National Public Radio broadcast an episode of “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me” which featured people chuckling about the absurdity of smuggled Mexican bologna.

But wait!!! Just this month, the magazine Texas Monthly published an article entitled “Why Are Border Smugglers Trafficking Bologna?” The article by Madeleine Aggeler was very well done and pretty clever. She spent a lot more time in her pursuit of “why Mexican bologna” than I did.

She concluded that for one thing, smuggling bologna from Mexico is highly profitable. For example, a nine-pound roll of bologna that costs $10 to $15 in Mexico can be sold in the United States for up to $120.

“The quantities of intercepted bologna are so large that it’s hard to believe that there are any pigs left in the world,” the author Aggeler muses. 

She also quips that when first encountering a confiscated tube of bologna, it was like “holding the hull of a Boeing 727 but made entirely of flesh.”

The reporter for Texas Monthly says residents of Mexico think the Mexican variety of bologna is richer and “more porky” — a subtlety that escaped me in my scientific taste test. 

But mostly, for Mexicans in the United States, it’s a taste of home — kind of like Vegemite in Australia or Spam in Hawaii. 

Below is a link to the Texas Monthly article if you want to read it. But remember, you heard about it first in my post on at Aero-Cordero.com!

https://www.texasmonthly.com/being-texan/bologna-seized-at-texas-mexico-border/