Home Again

I’ve written about the idiosyncrasies and character of Grant County Airport. I haven’t talked about the experience of going – and coming – home again. Although I’ve been asked by folks here how it feels to go home again. So here were my impressions from both this recent trip and my trip back in January.

· DC is my natal city, well, just outside of DC in MD (born in Bethesda and raised in Kensington); before moving to NM, I lived in the DC metro area all but 5 years of my life. There are few more beautiful cities than Washington on the Potomac – the Washington that hugs the wide tidal river and overlooks the rocky fall that is the Potomac Gorge. Especially when flying into the city following the river down from the north. I like a window seat on the left side of the aircraft so I can track the river, watch for White’s Ferry and Sugarloaf Mountain, and on a particularly clear day, find my now-former home in Clarksburg. Then the urban centers thread by underneath: Rockville-Bethesda-Chevy Chase-Northwest DC along Wisconsin Ave-the National Cathedral-GlenEcho and MacArthur Blvd-the reservoir-Georgetown. And finally, the great monumental Washington spreads out as the plane drops past Georgetown Cathedral: the Lincoln Memorial, Key Bridge, the Washington Monument, the White House set on the South Lawn and the Capital, and finally the plane sets down right on the edge of the water across from the SW waterfront. This unfolding of DC has always thrilled me, and always will.
· On the ground in downtown DC – a different visual, auditory and olfactory experience. Assaulted by bus fumes, rumbling and exhaust-ing sidewalk grates over the underground Metro tubes, car horns, and the other forms of “street life” to be dodged or skirted, paced and tolerated.
· Seeing friends and neighbors, both personal and at work – getting hugs is so reaffirming. Having FCC folks stop by my office door to ask where I’ve been and how I’ve been reminded me that there are many forms of family. Having personal friends and former neighbors go out of their way to spend an evening or an afternoon reminded me that distance does not change the connection between us, easy enough to forget when relying on electronic bits to keep the connections fresh.
· Riding the Metro from hotel to work to dinner and back to hotel on a daily basis – at one point, I swore that every citizen from Silver City must be on the platforms at Metro Center. The trains were running more slowly because they were being manually controlled since the truly horrible train accident a few weeks ago. But that meant larger than usual crowds on the platforms. Oddly, though, the trains I rode were not, themselves, overly crowded.
· Losing my balance in the Metro – I had forgotten how jerky the trains are when they start and stop, not to mention the frequency with which they stop short of their discharge point. I was up and starting for the door when the train stopped, only to hear those dreaded words, “this train will be moving forward.” And it did, but I didn’t. I lost my balance backwards and almost fell to my butt except that the two women behind me broke my fall – not entirely voluntarily!
· Losing my balance in the Metro 2 – I got off on the yellow line and went upstairs, having to pass along the red line platform to reach my exit. The platform was the most crowded I remember in years – a train had just disgorged its passengers. They were all flooding toward me, half at a run, afraid that they’d miss the next yellow train, oblivious to the fact that another yellow train would arrive in no more than 7 minutes. In DC like many cities, time is money and is jealously and aggressively marshaled. I found myself on the train-side of the flood, and like monsoon-driven floods, could not safely cross the river of racing humans to the saner side against the wall. People were brushing me and some, bumping me, and I began to worry that when the standing train closed its doors and began to move, I could be in trouble. Sure enough, the doors closed, the train moved out, and just then, a woman moving faster than the rest of the flotsam, pushed past me, and knocked me slightly sideways. I believe that, if I had not been anticipating just such a knock, I would have fallen into the side of the speed-gathering train. My DC-attitude finally took over and I almost simultaneously bulled back, managed to move 2 feet into the onrushing flow and push forward. When I finally cleared the crowd, my heart was racing, face and scalp were wet and my mind was whimpering, “Oh to be home in Silver.”
· And that was the instant that I knew. Reinforcement came on the home-bound flight from Albuquerque through the thunderstorms to Grant Co Airport, when I found myself anxiously looking for – and low-and-behold – finding familiar landscapes to mark my progress home. I realized I could recognize, not just the most obvious, like the huge pits of the mines, but the thread that is NM 15 from Gila Cliff Dwellings, the Mimbres valley along the river and NM Rt 35, Hurley and the old graveyard across Rt 180 from the main drag into town and finally knowing when we started our approach to the airport, not by the loss of altitude but by the change in the land running beneath.

There’s no doubt that I’ll always miss much about Washington and MD and will look forward to visiting whenever I can. But now, when someone here asks how it was to “go” home, my answer is, “it’s just so great to BE home.”

Grant County Airport revisited

Nick had to travel back to Brooklyn in July and no sooner did he return than I had to go out to DC. We had 4 – well, actually 5 opportunities to visit our regional airport about which I’ve already told a couple of stories. I have a feeling that Grant County Airport will always be a source of stories – this time, corroborated with pictures.

. I remembered to take my camera so you could travel with me down the country road to the airport, see the welcoming committee, remark the size of the plane, note the airmail being passed up to the pilot’s window and Nick’s deplaning, and finally watch the plane take off over a member of the welcoming committee, her attention now redirected to a most preferred activity. Here, at flickr, is the story.

. Janey, one of the employees of the airline and airport, is a local animal rescue specialist. You never know what you’ll find when you visit her at the airport. When we dropped Nick off for his outbound flight, she let us know that the pilot was coming in quickly to see her babies. Too bad I didn’t have my camera that time – her babies were 2 month old skunks! Their mother had been killed while they were still nursing. We found them running loose in the back section of the airport. She moved the baby gate and the babies scampered out from the back into the ticket and waiting area. 5 baby skunks exploring the territory, eventually finding human shoes and toes, as well as more adventurous human hands trailing the floor to be sniffed. Janey scooped them up, one by one, to greet us. They “scoop” much like cats grabbed around the middle and held aloft. These were very cute little critters and would soon be ready to release or adopt. Fortunately for all noses present, they are acclimated to people, dogs, distractions and chaos – so they don’t get defensive and spray.

. Picking Nick up, I had my camera, only to find that Janey was not on duty, thus neither were her babies.

. Nick came home on Friday, and I was supposed to leave on Monday. We showed up Monday to find the flight had been canceled. It seems that the lightning storm the evening before had taken out the airport’s one light/power pole on which hung the airport’s communication system and the airport’s approach and landing lights. FAA requires both for commercial flights to operate. The power company hoped to have the transformer working again by mid-day and afterwards the communication and approach/landing systems could be restored. When was the last time you couldn’t fly somewhere because all the systems that made the airport functional were on one pole and that one pole was struck by lightning?! However, the babies were in the terminal. You should have seen the faces of the people not local, not knowing Janey’s penchant for critters in need, when they saw several small skunks with tails standing at high noon waddling around the waiting area checking out feet and bags. But you can imagine. Good news: two babies have been adopted (skunks, believe it or not, make excellent pets) and the others are almost ready for wild release.

. I flew out on Tuesday, spent a good and productive week in DC and flew back on Sunday last weekend. Monsoons are here. That means that, like DC on sultry summer afternoons, there are often storms moving through. We got out of Albuquerque ok, and flew through the overcast at an altitude of around 20,000. Looking out the window, I was struck by the experience of watching the cloud particles flowing past the plane’s window. We flew out from the surround of gray cotton, only to find ourselves surrounded by lightning cells. Off to the left, there was a very active cell – so fascinating to watch the electric discharges right to the ground. To the right, another storm cell was providing an impressive display. Ahead, toward Grant County, the mines, Silver City and the airport, was sunny, blue sky. But we had to get through the leading edge of the front to reach that calmer, brighter prospect. And so we hit the bumps. Once through, we sailed clear into the airport. I hoped that the plane would have time to land, shovel us all out the door and get airborne again, before the storms hit. Otherwise, those pilots would need someone’s living room couch for the night.

. Landing on time meant we got home just before the storms moved over Silver City proper. So we sat on the back patio and watched the most spectacular sky scenery that we’ve seen since moving here. Magical -- clouds, layered in purples and blues with coral bands where the cloud layer was high enough to reflect the setting sun’s light; deep windows into the strata of clouds with lightning running laterally across space against blue sky; almost black at the horizon with falling rain making indistinguishable the sky from the hills. We took Nutmeg for her evening walk, walking in circles and loops up the road and back again, with our heads craned back, trying to take in what was offered to us up above. And you know, for all of that, it never did rain here that night.

A Collection of Small Observations at Week's End

I have been collecting these small observations about visiting, being and living in Silver City.

· When you drive in Silver City, wear your seatbelt. Nick has the opportunity to support the state, if not the local, Motor Vehicle Department because he forgot to put on his seatbelt and got pulled over and ticketed. No warning for anything else – not going too fast, no rolling stop at a stop sign, no light burned out, nothing. Just the seat belt. I know small towns make a living on unwary drivers, but usually with out-of-state plates going 2 miles over the speed limit. But seat belts!?

· When you buy in Silver City, have cash. Many small business cannot afford the cost of credit cards, which can charge a business up to 5% or more (especially American Express) for a purchase. So many have instituted a cash/check-only policy – no credit cards at all. Others have set a limit of $10 or $15 dollars for credit card purchases. Not the big stores or businesses like WalMart or Micky-D’s – they still take your card for $3.15. But a latte? Or a tamale? Cash only, please.

· Javalina, one of the coffee houses, still posts people’s names who write bad checks. There’s someone who wrote them not one, but three bad checks. Dude’s from Colorado, so I doubt that Javalina will see the money. Again, the lesson, though – avoid embarrassment, cash only, please.

· “Yes, we have no tamales…” Oh, but we do – pork spiced with red chili and chicken spiced with green. Real corn husk. Large, plump; two will fill you up. Best part is – they’re a small unadorned storefront, which means the tourists won’t find them. That’s good because even without tourists, they sell out fast. Just increased, with apologies, the price for tamales to $1.50 each. They’re a small family-run business in a little section of a strip; the kitchen-side is screened by a table-cloth and the side you enter has no neon sign, no logo, no advertising, no testimonials – just handwritten signs on lined notepaper telling what they sell, which is about 5 things: tamales, tortillas, Menudo and home cut-and-cooked chips. All fresh. All handmade. All still warm from the fire. I don’t eat peppers. Or at least I thought not. But there’s a difference between bell pepper (don’t eat) and chili pepper (am learning to eat). Tried a piece of Nick’s pork tamale and was instantly hooked. Have been in most Saturday mornings since to purchase six tamales (half pork, half chicken) to take home for lunch

· Getting adventurous now – IF I can eat RED-CHILI PORK, what else might I be able to eat? I’ve been experimenting with some red chili powder given to me by a friend, different, lighter red chili powder purchased from a couple from Hatch – chili capital of the world, self-proclaimed – and green chili. To date, my gastronomical experiments: light red chili and key lime juice homemade salad dressing; dark red chili marinade for chicken breasts; chicken soaked in chili and lime juice on the grill; jicima (raw) with light and dark red chili and lime juice and tonight, a twist on an classic Southern recipe. I grew up with fresh cucumbers and onions sliced into a bowl and fresh pickled with oil and red-wine vinegar, with lots of dill, preferably fresh, plus salt, etc. A favorite! Tonight I soaked 3 dried green chili pods and when they were plump again, stripped out the seeds, chopped them up and mixed them with oil, vinegar tarragon and basil and put that on the cucumbers and onion. Even I liked it! Next time, I think I’ll use one green chili pod less – they were so hot, Nick got the hiccups.

· Learning to use chili, especially green chili pods, means also learning where not to put your fingers afterwards – Eyes! Nose! Although I had washed my hands carefully – I thought – I still had some chili under my fingernails. Scratched my eyelid! Oymygod! Blew my nose!! Ay, carumba!!

· Going to the local theatre means not having to wait in line, even for blockbusters. New mathematical relationship to master: blockbuster only as large as blocks from which to draw theatre goers . Harry Potter hit town. We haven’t been to a movie since we got here. Yes, there is a theatre – two screens, even. In a metal warehouse type building. No marquee to speak of, just an old sign for the Real West Cinema. Really! Real West… There isn’t a ticket booth. There’s a card-table where the lady sells tickets and only gives you one half, because there’s no ticket taker. We arrived ½ hour before the show. That would be almost too late for Harry Potter at 6 pm on a Saturday in Gaithersburg or Bethesda or Arlington. Not sold out, no siree. No line! 3 souls in front of us. No ticket lady yet – too early? Just making popcorn. Mmmm, fresh popped. Theatre seats about 200. But it was less than ½ filled.

· We’re discovering that, without an acre and half of grass to cut, trim, sometimes-rake, plus bushes to prune, mulch or otherwise tend, we have quite a bit of leisure time. If we don’t have a plan for the weekend days, we have time to just be. Novel experience – one I’d recommend everyone try out from time to time. This evening, we sat on the back patio sheltered from the rain, and fell into a drowse watching the thunder storms move across the sky. Woke up in time for dinner and walk the dog. And now time to get ready for the week to come.