Starting today, the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta 2021 would have kicked off with the “Albuquerque Aloft” event, where pilots take their balloons to elementary schools around the Albuquerque metro area to demonstrate them for kids. Then the next morning would begin nine days of pure chaos, excitement, thrills, happiness, disappointment and in the end, exhaustion. I wasn’t able to fly in last year’s event because I was still recovering from my heart surgery, but I had planned to participate this fall.
Flying over the Rio Grande in 2018.
This year, because of COVID-19, the event was cancelled. There will be a few local balloons flying around the city during the next week to honor the huge event, but it won’t be the same. As much as I sometimes dreaded it — the planning, scheduling, concern about weather and shrinking landing sites, always being on top of your game for passengers, crew and Fiesta officials, etc. — I will miss it.
The main thing I miss is just the “feeling” of the event. That feeling is comprised of many elements. The smells of vendor-row food and freshly cut wet grass on a chilly early morning on Fiesta Field, the angle of the sun on fall mornings, the darkening blue sky and turning leaves that say winter is just around the corner, the indescribable thrill when you launch from a field packed with thousands of cheering spectators, the satisfaction and adrenalin rush you get after every safe flight, the fun at your post-flight tailgate, seeing old friend and meeting new ones, etc.
Me launching Aero-Cordero at the 2017 Fiesta.
Three of my most memorable things from Fiesta are:
–Flying the American flag off the field at daybreak while the Star Spangled banner is being sung over the PA system and a crowd of thousands below you is respectfully hushed until the song is over.
–Flying over the Rio Grande on a very cold morning when the river is still warm and steam and mist rise off the water and ducks and geese scoot below you, complaining with quacks and honks about you invading their airspace.
–And the smell of Cocoa Puffs. Yes, the cereal. General Mills has a cereal factory immediately south of Fiesta Field. When you reach a certain altitude as you drift southward, the smell that comes from the manufacturing of the cereal (which I can never remember eating myself) fills the air around you at 500 feet above the ground. I know that’s strange, but it’s part of the mix of sensations that I’ll miss this year.
Let’s all hope it’s back to normal next year, when I think I’ll give it another try to sniff Cocoa Puffs in the sky.
While I’m flattered that I have a few souls who look periodically at my website and my blog, it’s been interesting to see that some vistors have come from China, India, Nigeria and France. I suspect these views are from nefarious people who hope I’m going to accidentally drop my Social Security number, bank account and credit card number somewhere in my posts. Or maybe they just want to know what a normal, boring American is thinking these days.
At any rate, if you worry about any of your information being compromised by leaving a message on my site, I am assured by the well-established company which hosts it, WordPress, that your comments are seen only by me and nothing you have sent can be compromised.
Thanks for reading and please send me your thoughts about anything I write. I’m not fishing for compliments — just want to know what you think and if I’ve offended anyone.
You’ve probably seen the artwork somewhere before — on a wall behind a bar in a back country tavern or in someone’s tacky pool room. It’s the famous series of works by Cassius Marcellus Coolidge, “Dogs Playing Poker.” He began creating the series in 1894, showing anthropomorphized dogs around a table playing poker, smoking cigars, cheating at cards and generally having a good woof of a time. Sixteen of the 18 paintings were commissioned by Brown and Bigelow to promote cigars they distributed around the turn of the century. One art critic described the work as being “indelibly burned into … the American collective schlock subconscious…”
“A Friend in Need” by C.M. Coolidge, 1903
Here’s a link to a Wikipedia site which gives additional information:
I mention this because our dog Chester, a not-quite three-year-old rambunctious Golden Doodle, has the most elastic face and transparent mannerisms I’ve ever seen on a dog. His eyes constantly roll around when he’s pondering something and his John L. Lewis* eyebrows constantly twitch as he ponders. He peeks around corners in hopes of not revealing himself or his intention, smiles (yes, big toothy smiles) when he’s deliriously happy and leaps higher than my head when he knows one of his favorite admirers is about to give him a treat. Chester would simply bust up any chance of winning a poker hand because of his give-away looks. I’m attaching some examples, with what I think he may be revealing to others at the dog poker table.
“Yeah, I’m bad, I’ve got a straight you can’t beat…”“Oh no, three low clubs, a low diamond and not a even single one-eyed Jack…”“I can’t believe I raised the bet on this stupid hand…”“Ha, ha, ha, you sucker, I got a Royal Flush…”
*John L. Lewis was a famous labor leader from the early to mid 1900s, noted for his over-the-top bushy eyebrows and his unflinching command of the United Mine Workers of America.
John L. Lewis and his iconic eyebrows, much like Chester’s.
Hannah, giving instructions on her front porch earlier this week.
Good news!!! Lindsay, our daughter, tested negative for the COVID-19 virus, as her husband Tedd, had done the day before. Hannah has been symptom free since Saturday (except for the erroneously low blood oxygen level reading due to her application of glittery fingernail polish.)
The family should be able to return to “normal” activities today. Thanks for your thoughts and prayers. Take this seriously, and wear a mask. We’re not out of the woods yet.
Earlier this year, police in Las Cruces spotted a vehicle inching along a city street as it emitted an ear-splitting scraping noise. Upon closer investigation, the police discovered that the vehicle had only three tires and the fourth corner of the car was propped up only with a steel rim, gouging the pavement as it lurched along.
Police tried to give chase, but the car’s driver ignored the siren and lights and the vehicle eventually wobbled into the parking lot of a Wal-Mart. When the officers coaxed the man out of the tilting vehicle, it was clear he was inebriated. At one point, he tried to take a swing at an officer, but lost his balance and fell down. He was promptly arrested.
But it begs the question of whether he was intentionally heading to Wal-Mart to pick out a new tire to fit his now-mangled wheel.
Things are looking up for Hannah. She has gone 48 hours without any symptoms of COVID-19 — temperature normal, blood oxygen normal, no coughs, aches, etc. Her parents and Hayes are getting tested this week for the virus. If everything is okay, they will be back to normal — whatever that is these days — by Friday.
For those of you who are inclined to think “see, it was no big deal, no worse than the ‘common cold,'” please consider these points. Her parents (and grandparents) have been under incredible stress and anxiety for the last week. They had to take even more extreme measures to isolate themselves. They are still not absolutely sure she is out of the woods. And we still don’t know for certain what kinds of long-range effects this virus may have on anyone. Others in the household may still become infected. For those of you who are focused on financial issues, consider how much time and cost this one case has placed on the medical system. Then multiply it by more than 6.8 million cases so far in the United States alone. So please, take this seriously and wear a mask until we get through this.
Now on a funny note last Saturday, Hannah’s blood oxygen level had fallen below what medical experts say is normal. At home, they had been measuring the blood oxygen level with a finger clip-on monitor. Earlier that day, Hannah had decided it was time to paint her fingernails with a sparkly fingernail polish — most likely pink or purple, knowing her preferences. They took her to the doctor and used a more professional instrument to measure her blood oxygen level and found that everything was fine. I mentioned the story to our physician friend who lives across the street, and he laughed, saying it was a “classic” case of fingernail polish, particularly of the sparkly variety, interfering with the reading. “It happens all the time,” he chuckled.
Hannah and her little brother, Hayes, in better times. (We think that’s a glob of chocolate below her lower lip)
Hannah’s mother says her temperature, which was as high as 105 at one time, continues to move up and down. The peaks have not been as high, as we understand it, so we’re hoping it points to continued improvement. This morning she wanted to eat “Cheerios with sprinkles,” which her mom said was “something that helps.” Mostly, she is tired of being sick and quarantined in her room. In the meantime, her mother, father and brother are also on lockdown as they wait to see if the virus has spread any further. We continue to remain optimistic about her recovery. Thanks to all of you for your kind thoughts and prayers.
We received incredibly disheartening news this morning from our tearful daughter who announced that our beautiful five-year-old granddaughter, Hannah, has been infected with the COVID-19 virus. We feel confident she will recover, but I do ask for your prayers for her.
For now, I’m going to try to limit my anger at the leadership in the country that might have prevented this from happening had we been told the truth much earlier about this virus. And I’m going to ask you all to wear a mask, which science continues to say is the best way to prevent the continued spread of COVID-19.
Again, your prayers for Hannah would be incredibly meaningful to all of us.
In case you missed it, I’m attaching a YouTube video of a porta potty that was pushed down Central Avenue in Albuquerque last week during a high wind weather event. Someone cleverly enhanced the video with a sound track of the song “Dust in the Wind” by the group Kansas.
When I first read the story in the Albuquerque Journal about the mobile toilet, I envisioned the unit tumbling down the street, end over end or on its side. But as you can see in the video, it was basically just skating along completely upright on Central, part of the old Route 66. The more I looked at the video, it seemed that the portable toilet had just decided to make a run for it. It escaped — it was finally free! Maybe it got tired of what disgusting things people did inside it. Maybe it didn’t like its location. Maybe it just declared freedom from its sedentary life. Maybe, as the song suggests, it just wanted “get your kicks on Route 66.” It was as if something had “hit the fan” — or a gust of wind in this case.
Okay, if you have a better pun, send it to me and I’ll post it, as long it’s not too offensive and it passes the sniff test. Yuk Yuk.
I’ve been flying hot air balloons since 1983. I’m proud to say I’ve never had an accident (knock on wood). And although I’ve had a couple of memorable pucker moments, the only passenger injury I ever inflicted was when a woman broke the tip of her pinky finger on perhaps the softest landing I ever made. I didn’t even find out about the “injury” until several years later when she confessed to me at a cocktail party that her physician husband, an orthopedist of all things, diagnosed her lingering sore finger as a broken digit.
But through it all, there have been many memorable and happy moments. Most of those involve the joy of giving people their first ride in a balloon. Others are spectacular flights over valleys, hills and rivers on early mornings above the unparalleled New Mexico landscape. I’ll post my thoughts on some of those memories later. But some of my recollections are downright funny. Here’s one.
When I was completing my training in the late 1980s to become a certified commercial pilot, my instructor required me to conduct several “on the edge” flights to handle emergency situations and unusual weather conditions. Most of those flight operations were done on Albuquerque’s West Mesa, where, at the time, the terrain and skies were wide open to make sure you couldn’t get into too much trouble.
On one of the flights, my instructor wanted me to test the balloon’s performance at maximum load weight while doing low level contour ground tracking. Ground tracking, in the right place, is one of my favorite things to do in a balloon. You fly 10-15 feet above the terrain, preferably at a fast clip, and adjust your altitude to accommodate deviations in landscape, vegetation and other objects while zooming along just above the earth. The sensation you get is, that because you’re so close to the ground and you are moving at the speed of the wind, the earth is just rolling toward you while you are stationary in the air. I don’t think I can describe it in any more understandable terms, but those who have done it will know how thrilling it feels.
Anyway, on this particular fall day on the West Mesa, we were zipping along just above low hills and ridges, dodging cedars and other desert bushes. We had dipped into an arroyo just ahead of a major ridge, which was so high that the top of my balloon was below the crest of it. When we successfully cleared the ridge, we spotted an unusual gathering of horses, humans and dogs. The men and women were riding on beautiful horses. All riders on horses were dressed in bright red velvet coats, black helmets, tan or white riding breeches and polished black boots. The dogs, milling around the horses, were all hounds of various breeds, ready to begin a chase. Was it a time warp and we were suddenly on the set of Downton Abbey? NO, IT WAS A FOX HUNT! IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE ON THE REMOTE WEST MESA OF ALBUQUERQUE!
Juan Tomas Hounds on the West Mesa
As soon as we had topped the ridge, the dogs suddenly noticed us. A baying sound from the dogs, as loud as anything I’ve heard before, erupted from below. Dogs are particularly sensitive to the high frequency noises produced by a balloon burner, and when it is emitted by a very large object floating in the sky and moving toward you, you can imagine how the dogs reacted. It was utter pandemonium. The leader of the hunt began blowing his hunting horn to try to regroup the dogs, but they would have none of it. Ear splitting baying, continuing blasts from the hunter horn and shrieks from humans erupted.
Observing the unexpected chaos on the ground, we tried to fly on and not interrupt the activity. But it was impossible to stop the pandemonium. Those of us in the basket of the balloon began laughing so hard at the totally unexpected sight that we couldn’t control ourselves. As the pilot, I had a hard time maintaining my focus, and I think we accidentally smacked into the ground a couple of times before I regained full control and flew far enough away to allow the hunt to continue. As we drifted on, we could still hear sounds of the hunt horn blaring, dogs baying and human voices yelling to try to refocus the hounds.
I’m not sure if the hunt (for a coyote, as I understand it) was successful. Our flight ended with a safe landing and we all had a great memory. I’m sure the fox (or coyote) hunters found it just as memorable. I’m almost certain that the coyote got away safely and thanked me for our intrusion.
I’m attaching a link to the organization, Juan Tomas Hounds, which I think organizes these fox (coyote) hunting events in New Mexico.
The thing I noted in the organization’s website is that coyotes are usually much faster than the dogs or horses that chase them and so I assume most of the critters get away safely. (I hope so). And in the end, fox hunting, New Mexico style, much like ballooning, is just a fun and unusual way to “get out there” with friends. Our two groups would probably have a great tailgate together. And it’s one more reason “Why I Love New Mexico.”
My father was a self educated man and became the well-respected editor and publisher of the Ruidoso News, a weekly newspaper he and my mother owned in the town where I was raised. He didn’t have a high school diploma until he obtained a GED late in his life. Yet, he possessed great writing skills, a savvy business acumen and a nose for a good story. (I’ll probably write more about him in later posts).
But on at least once occasion, his nose for a good story got a little too stuffed up to discern truth from fiction.
I was probably somewhere around 10 years old at the time when my father came home to tell me he had been approached by two men with a fantastic tale. They said they had discovered a giant rattlesnake in what is now the “Valley of the Fires” State Park and Bureau of Land Management recreation area just north of Carrizozo in Lincoln County. The area, also called “The Malpais” (Spanish for bandlands), is a lava flow that occurred about 5,000 years ago and left several thousand acres of twisted black rock on the northern edge of the Tularosa Basin. https://www.blm.gov/visit/valley-of-fires
The two men claimed they were hiking in the rugged area when they approached a depression in the rocks and spotted an 18-foot long rattlesnake. They told my father it had a head “as big as the steering wheel on a car” and when it raised its head and hissed at them, they could “feel the heat from its breath.” Although I can’t remember the details of how they said they killed the giant creature, they managed to skin it (sans its streering wheel-sized head) and brought it to my father’s newspaper office as proof of their claim.
My father recognized what he thought was sensational story and called the Albuquerque Associated Press and maybe the Albuquerque Journal to report it. Someone suggested they find a herpetologist who could verify the claim. In the meantime, he published his snake story as the banner headline on the front page of the Ruidoso News.
As I recall, someone from Albuquerque, probably from the University of New Mexico biology department, drove down to inspect the headless snake skin. After examining it for what I remember as being most of one afternoon, he made is pronouncement.
It was, he said, the skin of a common and not unusually large boa constrictor, probably purchased at someone’s garage sale or a roadside store dealing in tacky tourist souvenirs. It had lived its life in South American jungles before being caught and skinned and had a very distinctive pattern of scales, nothing like that of a rattlesnake.
Not the actual snake, but a real boa constrictor
My father, deflated at the loss of breaking what might have been the biggest story of his life, humbly admitted in the next week’s edition that he had been duped. I’m not sure whatever happened to the two guys who made up the story or their snake skin. I think they just slithered out of town, hoping to find another person who would swallow their story.
I looked in my “Why I Love New Mexico” file from five years ago to find this story out of Clovis.
A completely naked man was found standing in the middle of a busy Clovis street, ranting about the state of the world. A policeman with his body camera on stopped his cruiser and stepped out to try to persuade the man to move out of the street. The naked man seized the opportunity and jumped into the still idling police cruiser and streaked (yes, pun intended) off in the vehicle, leaving the dumbfounded policeman and body camera watching the car fade into the distance. The man eventually showed up at a local hospital where, hopefully, they put a gown on him that at least covered his frontal region.
I’m not sure what eventually happened to either the “streaker” or the police officer, but I can speculate. I’m sure the streaker was charged with resisting an officer, stealing a police vehicle and impersonating an officer without wearing a proper uniform (if there is such a crime). The officer, no doubt, was admonished for leaving his vehicle unattended but maybe given a medal for his role in removing a public eyesore.
A good friend of ours recently commented about the current sad state of affairs where just about everything we choose, do or say can be judged on some kind of constantly shifting political scale. As she pointed out in her sage observation about the turmoil, “soon the New Mexico Question ‘red or green’ will become politicized.”
For those of you readers not familiar with the odd things that happen in New Mexico, we are probably the only state in the nation that has an “official state question,” passed by the New Mexico Legislature and signed by the governor several years ago. The question, “red or green?” has to do with providing your waiter at a restaurant your choice of red or green chile on or in your enchiladas, burrito, tacos, chalupas, steak, pizza, tamales, huevos rancheros, etc.
And it’s not a question to be lightly regarded. Next time you’re in a Mexican restaurant anywhere in New Mexico, observe someone who has just been asked that question. You may be amazed at how much time it takes many of them to come up with an answer — which they often change immediately after making their initial decision. In fact, entire tables have been known to shut down while someone dithers for minutes over the proper response as they consider heat levels, location where the chile was grown, reputation of the restaurant for accurately evaluating what is “hot vs tasty” and observing what the guy at the next table has just been served.
So let’s reflect on the question and its political ramifications. At first, you might want to assume that if someone orders “red,” they’re likely to be Republican. But I know Democrats who order nothing but red. And is “green” a sign that someone is on the left edge of the ledger for their beliefs about environmental issues? Of course, chile turns from green to red over time — possibly signaling a slow movement to the right because of age? And how do you interpret someone ordering red chile enchiladas on blue corn tortillas? A blue dog Democrat? A Republican for Biden?
What about my Republican friend who uses green chile in some mushy concoction he calls posole? How wrong is that? Red only for posole, thank you. And how about those who insist that red goes only on one type of dish and green on everything else? A one issue voter?
Full confession — I’m actually one of those who has ironclad rules on what goes with what. Red chile should never, ever, be ordered in the morning for huevos rancheros, breakfast burritos or anything else breakfasty. I mean, what kind of conspiracy weirdo wants red chile on their huevos rancheros? In my opinion, you can only order red for lunch if it’s in a carne adovada burrito. Well okay, I have had red enchiladas for lunch but only because everything else on the menu was frightening or insipid sounding. Either green or red are okay on most anything after lunch and for dinner. And don’t get me started on corn or flour tortillas. I mean really, corn tortillas on huevos rancheros are just dumb — it’s just like having enchiladas but calling them something different. Flour only for huevos rancheros!!! And when my daughter in Austin, Texas, orders “breakfast tacos” (Texas-speak for expensive mini breakfast burritos), they can specify corn or flour tortillas. Honestly, Texans telling US how to make real Mexican food??? And then they introduce all sorts of snooty, trendy ingredients to try to make a simple burrito into haute cuisine!!! Just tell ’em to stick to canned chile — and they can’t even spell that right!!!
Well, as you can see, I have launched myself into a downward spiraling rage over a subject that clearly is not as important as those issues which have unfortunately turned friends against each other and politicized our view of the world. I certainly have my opinions on red, green, flour and corn and while I firmly believe that I am absolutely correct — maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t be as judgmental and not get so wound up about these and other things. A good conversation over enchiladas between friends who listen and don’t taunt the other’s views might do us all a bit of good. And maybe have a sip of cold Corona beer to go with it. WHAT??? You like Dos Equis???!!!???
*For those out-of-staters, Christmas style is having both red and green chile in or on your favorite dish. I think it could be a sign that a person who choses this combination is a Libertarian. Or maybe they’re just wishy-washy. “:^)
This sheep, in a pen behind the historic Wortley Hotel in Lincoln, NM, has a guest on its back, which according to the owners of the hotel, spends a lot of time there. The chicken, which is one of several that provides eggs for guest breakfasts, apparently gets along fine with the sheep, which seems content with the arrangement as well. I guess you could call the combination a “sheepicken.”
A chicken on the back of a perfectly calm sheep in Lincoln, NM
The Wortley is an excellent base for a couple of days of exploring Lincoln County and historic old Lincoln, where outlaw Billy the Kid staged a shootout in a daring escape during the Lincoln County War. Unfortunately, it is temporarily closed because of the COVID-19 pandemic.
aero-cordero.com 