I Was a Stranger in a Strange, Storm Trooper-Filled Land

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho Section Saturday, September 05, 2009
I've never been one to shy away from new experiences — and don't even get me started on my first and only whitewater rafting trip.

But I was a stranger in a strange land last weekend as I accepted an invitation from a friend of mine and drove down to the Albuquerque Grand Hotel to attend Bubonicon 41, my first science fiction/fantasy convention. I jumped in with both feet, grabbed my press pass and tried not to stare.

Let me just say that I am not a science fiction fan. Personally, my literature genre of choice mostly falls under the categories of nonfiction and biographies. But I will admit I used to love watching "Lost in Space" and my favorite, "The Twilight Zone." So, on the surface I may have been a "stranger," but my inner Rod Serling came shining through about a half hour inside the door as I began to assimilate on the inside.

"There's zombie face painting," suggested the alien maiden in the crowd after overhearing me explain to Francis Hamit, my fellow geek and host for the day, that I felt under-dressed in my jeans and white cotton shirt amid the Imperial Storm Troopers, slime maidens and zombies.

If I would have known cats are a very popular subject in the fantasy genre, I would have worn my calico ears and tail I keep at my desk.

After seeing some very dead-like zombies in the hospitality suite munching on Triscuits, cheese puffs and M&Ms, I didn't think the joke would go over well when I picked up my 11-year-old daughter at her best friend's house all bruised and bloodied.

Next, we sat in on the History of New Mexico: Land of Oz panel discussion with speakers Terry England, Sally Gwylan, Victor Milan and Pati Nagle and moderated by Pari Noskin Taichert. The discussion was very interactive with lots of audience participation.

The question was posed to the many science fiction and fantasy writers: "What is unique about New Mexico and what are the creative seeds that spawn so many stories?"

One zombie wearing Levi's and gold hoop earrings offered her observation that shrimp brine live in the desert. Yes, the small sea creatures do live right here in our land-locked state and when it rains, they grow legs, mate and die.

Many others chimed in on New Mexico's very inspiring weather. Some thought our isolated thunder storms were unique and amusing, and how it could be raining at your house but sunny down the street at your neighbor's. A star maiden commented on our triple rainbows and our distinctive snow storms and dust storms that can be accompanied by thunder.

Another stimulating part of our culture that is more prominent here than in other parts of the country is the Day of the Dead tradition and that our dead ancestors inhabit our bodies during the celebration, entering through our mouths when we eat. Now if that doesn't conjure up a great science fiction short story, I don't know what does. Pass the sopaipillas.

For those zombie wannabes out there who are looking for another chance to get out the face paint, put on your musty clothes and head over to the Guild Cinema on Central next Friday for the 2008 horror/comedy "Dead Snow." But don't worry about your safety; the Sandia Mountains apparently are a barrier against all kinds of negativity thanks to the Harmonic Convergence that happened in '87.

May the force be with you.

Quote of the week: "Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before." — Captain Kirk.

Tell the City Where You Want To Shop

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho section 8/22/09

Surveys are very popular on the Web these days, and many of my clients have requested surveys on their own Web sites. It's a great way to pick their customers' brains and find out what their favorite cake flavor is or how they can improve their motocross track.

Facebook is notorious for quizzes and surveys, which I try to avoid, fearing that after taking the "What's your hippie name?" I inadvertently tell the whole world I am Tiny Tim. I did put myself out on a limb and took the "What dead rock star are you?" as did my 16-year-old daughter.

Turns out she is Jim Morrison. Hello? I surveyed out as Jerry Garcia. Go figure. I never was a huge Grateful Dead fan, and if I had to pick, I see myself more as a Rick James. Or maybe it's just his song "Super Freak" and memories of dancing on the beach with naval aviators at Fort Story, Va., in 1982 that I relate to.

But, I digress.

As part of the development of a comprehensive retail plan, the city of Rio Rancho has published an online survey of its own, asking residents which retail and restaurant chains they would like to see in the City of Vision. I took the survey, and let me just say, it definitely raised my level of anticipation.

The survey asks residents to select their level of desirability from highly desirable to no interest for a variety of restaurants, clothing stores, furniture and electronic stores, sporting goods and entertainment stores and department stores.

The first category is women's clothing stores, and among the prospects are Chicos, American Eagle, Ann Taylor, Pac Sun, Coldwater Creek, Talbots and Gap. I am almost salivating at the thought of having a Talbots or Ann Taylor this close but fear it is just a dangling carrot in front of my nose.

Next came the shoe store question: DSW, Jarman Shoes, Naturalizer, Famous Footwear and Payless shoes. Being a woman, I checked "Highly Desirable" on each one.

On the grocery store question, I remembered how many years it took to get a Trader Joe's in my former town in California, so I put a hopeful check mark next to Whole Foods Market and TJs anyway.

Ruth's Chris Steak House? Somehow I cannot imagine one of those in the state. But Macaroni Grill, Panera Bread, P.F. Chang's and Cracker Barrel (I go for the Mallo Cups) are easily doable.

Do we want furniture and electronics stores? Of course we do. American Home Furniture, La-Z-Boy, Ethan Allan, Best Buy: check, check, check, check.

Do we want a Pier 1, Cost Plus, Crate & Barrel, JoAnn Fabrics, a Hallmark store and a Michaels? Absolutely.

I suppose we could use another sporting goods store, and I'll take a Barnes & Noble and a multiplex movie theater. And while we are at it, why not make the movie theater an IMAX?

The best part about the survey is the comments box at the end where it allows you to add your own write-in candidates. I think the city should make it easier for businesses to set up shop here. I think a Dave & Busters would do well here, a grown-up version of the Chuck E. Cheese eat and play restaurant. I would love to see a children's zoo and more local restaurants from Albuquerque open up branches here.

The survey runs until Sept. 18 and will be used to entice more businesses to the community, so I say, as a resident of Rio Rancho, go to ci.rio-rancho.nm.us and make your opinion count.

Quote of the week: "She's a very special girl. The kind of girl you want to know. From her head down to her toenails." — "Super Freak" by Rick James

ART & COPY Movie Trailer - I've got to see this documentary!

As School Starts, We Look Back

As seen in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho section 8/15/09

Summer is officially over with the start of the 2009-10 school year Friday in Rio Rancho.

Starting school before Labor Day is a hard pill to swallow for me, having always started the new school year the Tuesday after Labor Day. But with year-round school and schedules shifting nowadays, seems kids west of the Mississippi see starting school in August as normal as Christmas in December.

Psychologically, for kids there is much to do to prepare for a new year of school. Many kids will be going to new schools, including Rio Rancho Middle School and the new Cleveland High School. The angst, the worry, the anticipation of a new adventure sends some kids sky high and others under the bed with fear.

"Where are my classrooms?" "Will I find my friends?" "What time do I start?" "What if I have to sit alone at lunch?" "When is my lunch?" "When do I get my violin?"

Emotionally, the thoughts and worries kids are dealing with right now are hard. Think back. I am sure everyone can recall the butterflies.

For parents, it is more of a physical marathon that goes on in the weeks leading up to the first day of school. Oh, sure, ask any parent and they will tell you it is an emotional roller coaster for them as well. As parents, we will miss the "SpongeBob" marathons, or Bob-a-thons as I call them, the lounge lizard mornings and trying to get our summer vacationers up before noon, and those sweet, bored faces staring back at us asking, "What can I eat now?"

My recent weeks have sounded something like this: "Do those jeans fit?" "They are too tight, you can't get them." "How many new shirts do you need?" "Are you sure that is within the dress code?" "What's wrong with pink polka dot Converse high tops?" "What about a backpack?" "Why not this one?" "We still need to get all the paper and pencils and calculators." "I'm here to pick up my daughter's class schedule." "How do I change her schedule?" "Your computers have been down all week?" "So, when should I pick up her new schedule?" "Where do I pay the band fees?" "Yes, I bought a yearbook already." "My registration fee total is $175? You're kidding."

As my daughters were wrapping their minds around the concept of school these past couple of weeks, synchronicity blew through my Facebook pages and a few high school classmates and a former swimming coach found me. Nothing like a little icing on the collegiate cake to remind you what back-to-school is all about.

It has been 30 years since I have seen or heard from Coach Howenstine, and from his Facebook profile picture, he hasn't changed a bit. Although this good natured, smiling man had the kindest things to say, seeing his face still makes me nervous, and waiting to hear him announce the workout: 10-400s on the 6:30 descending from the 5:30. Go!

"I have often wondered what happened to you," wrote Coach Howenstine. "And after reading your blog, I now have somewhat of an idea."

It's funny how 30 years can change a relationship from a teenager and coach to two adults sharing tales of their lives and families.

"I will never forget you with your mouth wired shut," coach wrote, reminding me of the time I broke my jaw in a car accident the week before the valley championships and he lost his team captain. Coach Howenstine is coaching again and the captain of his team this year is the daughter of my former teammate. Circle of life.

I am sure everyone out there has an interesting story about high school. Send me your favorite, goofy or embarrassing school memory to match mine and hopefully I will get enough to write a follow-up column soon.

Quote of the week: "On Friday we'll be jacked up on the football game. And I'll be ready to fight. Were gonna smash 'em now." — "Be True to Your School," by the Beach Boys.

Six Year Old Has a Heart of Gold

As Appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho section 8/8/09

When one thinks of a typical 6-year-old girl's birthday party, one imagines lots of pink and purple. Usually a big jumpy is inflated in the backyard, probably a princess castle or 'Finding Nemo' theme. And of course presents, clothes, crafts and anything Hannah Montana nowadays.

But one little girl wanted to give instead of get last week at her sixth birthday party, and she did it in a very big way.

Taylor Remington is a 6-year-old from Rio Rancho with a heart of gold. She didn't want another typical birthday party. This year, Taylor didn't want her guests to bring presents for her. Instead, she asked the guests to bring dog food and cat food so that she could donate it to Watermelon Mountain Ranch.

According to Jim Putnam, IT manager at Watermelon, the ranch sees generous donations from young people every so often. A local Eagle Scout is about to begin his project to beautify the patio area of the cattery (Earl's Catnip Inn) by painting boards and rafters in rainbow colors.

"Several times, we have been the recipient of donation drives instigated by very young members of the community. Sometimes it has been for money, sometimes for goods, but this would be the youngest donor we have ever had," Putnam said of Taylor.

Christine Remington called me up last week and thought she had a great idea for my column. Her daughter was having a very unusual sixth birthday party, one unlike her first five, and she wanted to share her story. "We've been reading a lot about how so many animals are at the shelters right now," said Christine, Taylor's mom. And Taylor came up with an idea.

"Taylor did this on her own," said her dad, Sean. "In lieu of gifts, she thought to collect food for homeless pets, she had the idea on her own," said her proud dad.

The Remingtons drove out to Watermelon Mountain Ranch and delivered the goods on Wednesday. As I walked around the property, the need for donations became clear as an endless stream of animals made their presence known, with curious barking from the dog cottage and the high attitude diva stares coming from the cattery.

"Our trunk is full of donations, 350 pounds of toys, biscuits, food, kitty litter, you name it," Sean said as he unloaded the numerous 50-pound bags of pet food.

"She hasn't just helped our animals, she has helped the whole state," said Sophia DiClemente, founder of Watermelon Mountain Ranch. "Our Chuckwagon Food Bank project, based here in Rio Rancho, supplies pet food to over 15 shelters around the state, from Las Cruces to Springer," DiClemente said.

When asked how it feels to give to the cats and dogs that need it so much, Taylor replied: "It makes me feel happy."

Taylor's goodness is contagious. One random act of kindness can spread like wildfire. As our young citizens learn to reach out and help others, they acquire a habit that will last a lifetime. This feeling will spread from child to child and truly help make this a better world.

Way to go, Taylor. Who's next?

Quote of the week: "While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about." — Angela Schwindt

Snail Mail Is Slowly Slithering Into Sunset

Al was the only mailman I remember ever delivering our mail while I was growing up.

When Al was sick or away on vacation, a total stranger delivered our mail. He or she wore the same blue uniform but walked faster, didn't smile and definitely would not ring the bell and hand our letters to us with a warm smile. No, the substitute mailmen coldly placed our mail in our mailbox and left — what nerve.

Al was like one of the family. My sister and I would leave notes for Al in the mailbox every once in a while. My mother gave Al a 13-ounce pink tin of Almond Roca every year for Christmas. Nowadays, things are so different.

Do you have an "Al" or a stranger delivering your mail?

Who gets mail anymore? I mean the traditional paper letters that gets delivered to your mailbox out front. Snail mail is slowly on the decline, and although it has to be saving some trees, I find it terribly sad.

I still exchange picture postcards with my former neighbor who became a pen pal when I left home for college long ago. I have saved almost everything she has ever sent me. Real treasures I will keep forever.

With the decline of snail mail comes the decline of the snail shells. Yes, you know these. Those familiar squat blue mailboxes on the corners that you used to try to cram your little brother into, those are known as snail shells and they are disappearing right along with snail mail picture postcards.

The U.S. Postal Service says it is removing "underperforming" mail boxes from the nation's streets, mailboxes which collect less than 25 pieces of mail a day. During the past 20 years, 20,000 big blue boxes have disappeared as the volume of mail declines. Snail mail is a dying venture because Americans are paying their bills online, sending holiday greetings online and communicating through short e-mails rather than the old-fashioned pen and paper.

That downward trend is only accelerating. According to an article in the Washington Post, the Postal Service projects a decline of about 20 billion pieces of mail the next two years, going from a high of 213 billion pieces of mail in 2006 to 170 billion projected for 2010.

Nowadays much of our mail appears in our inboxes on our computers. The infrequent paper cut from opening an envelope has been replaced with carpal tunnel. Click. Click. Click. Delete. E-mail is instant gratification, and I will admit I like it.

It does have its drawbacks, though. It has no tone, no emotion to convey and comments can easily get misinterpreted, unlike the way a handwritten note with hand-drawn characters can. Who has heard of printing out typed love letter e-mails and saving them? OK, I have, but it's not the same as a hand-written "I love you," I swear.

No snail mail. No snail shells. No Al the mailman. It all goes hand in hand, and what is next? Gone are the friendly faces who deliver the handwritten notes of love with Hershey's candy bars tucked inside (thank you, Kay). Gone is the personal connection and gratitude knowing someone took the time to write a note, put a stamp on it and put it in a snail shell with your name on it.

As long as snail mail is around, you can count on me to help keep it in business.

Quote of the week: "For want of the nail the shoe was lost. For want of the shoe the horse was lost. For want of the horse the rider was lost. For want of the rider the battle was lost. For want of the battle the kingdom was lost. And all for the want of a horse shoe nail." — Horse Shoe Nail

Ice Cream and Camp Maqua; It's Definitely Summer

The other day I met a bear, out in the woods, oh, way out there. And while I was out there, I saw that Alice the camel had five humps.

Are you on to me yet?

If you ever went to summer camp, chances are you recognize those words as songs you may have sung while eating your beans and weenies in the dining hall.

Nothing screams summer like the ice cream man, high utility bills and summer camp. I had a blast from my past last week during an afternoon of treasure hunt antiquing. I was quite taken aback when I came upon the exact same tin watering can I had as a child, same little girl motif, same rust.

I was even more stunned to find an old J.C. Higgins aluminum water cooler with the red top, just like the one my grandpa had back in Ohio so many years ago.

But the timing couldn't have been better when I came upon an army green foot locker like the one I used to pack for camp every summer.



There it was sitting on the floor in an antique shop on Central Avenue in Albuquerque, just like it used to lay at the end of the bunk bed in that cold cabin in the woods in upper Michigan. Of course, I had to open it to see if it had the same interior as my old one. Sure enough, it did.

Was I about to discover the wool blanket, mess kit, travel toothbrush and Cutter's bug spray next? All of a sudden, I could smell the mildew that would seep from the laundry bag that hung on the bunk next to my trunk.

It was getting to be too much, so I pressed on, trying to escape memories of cooking hobo stew over a modified Folgers coffee can, but it was no use. Camp Maqua was back.

Revelry blasted over the loud speakers at the crack of dawn, and that meant it was time for the "hoppers" in the cabin to get up to the dining hall and set the table for their cabin mates. The "apple polishers" stayed behind after the meals to clear the tables and clean up. All campers were up at the flag pole for the raising of the colors every morning before pancakes and sausage. Pranks were to be expected, like the time the horseback riding councilor's bra went up the flag pole with the flag.

Everyone's favorite class was the crafts class, of course. We were girls. My sister and I bestowed exquisite gifts upon my parents, including a Popsicle stick keepsake box with a blue marble handle, handmade sand candles and an endless supply of lanyard key chains.

The nightly ritual began when everyone gathered their soap, towels and toothbrushes and headed to the "brownie" to get ready for bed. Girls crowded around the communal circular sink known as the bird bath and stepped on the foot pedal to activate the fountain effect.

Ah, fifteen girls in their pink flowered bathrobes brushing their teeth together and wishing they were home in their clean clothes watching "The Partridge Family." A memory burned into my mind forever.

When the sound of taps came over the loud speaker, it was lights out. All the happy campers were worn out from their nature hikes and junior life saving classes and ready to go to sleep until a flash light flicks on and a voice begins, "It was a dark and stormy night ..."

Whether your campers are enjoying day camp, music camp, sleep-away camp or sports camp, it's what summer is all about. Just don't let your hoppers and apple polishers off the hook when they get back.

Quote of the Week: "Great green gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts, mutilated monkey meat, little birdies' dirty feet, all wrapped up in, pretty purple porpoise pus, and me without my spoon. But I've got my straw." — "Gopher Guts"

The Eagle Has Landed....

Remembering the First Awe-Inspiring Moonwalk

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho section 7/18/09

With the recent passing of Michael Jackson, the famous moonwalk has brought back memories from when he first performed the dance 27 years ago on the Motown 25th Anniversary show. But there is another moonwalk making an anniversary this week: the real moonwalk, performed by Neil Armstrong 40 years ago this Monday as it was broadcast on televisions around the world.

Where were you when you watched Armstrong's boot touch the lunar surface? I was sitting with my mother on our couch in the living room. I still remember to this day feeling so nervous for the astronauts wondering if they were going to sink into a quicksand-like surface or land safely on hard ground. But that's an 8-year-old girl for you; a mother in the making even then.

Landing on the moon made us one with the world and it was like magic. But watching the space geeks at Mission Control in Houston riding an emotional roller coaster had to have been one of the high points. These young baby boomers brought home the human element. When they looked worried, we were worried. When they threw their arms up in the air in victory, we cried.

"Apollo 11: The Untold Story," an article on www.popularmechanics.com, is filled with quotes from the young men who were part of history; sleepless news correspondents and operations engineers, flight directors and even astronauts themselves telling their personal tales of those historical days in the summer of '69.
Robert Sieck, spacecraft test and launch operations engineer, Kennedy Space Center said, "Since I was the backup engineer, I was not out at the Cape. I could watch the launch with my wife and my 1-year-old daughter. The highway was absolute gridlock, and the cars and trucks weren't trying to move. Everyone was there to watch history. The vendors were sold out of everything—no more T-shirts, caps, buttons or pins. People were pulling plugs of grass from the side of the road and stuffing them in Ziploc bags as souvenirs."

After a three-day coast from earth, Apollo 11 entered the moon's orbit and circled 11 times before attempting to land. Watching the lunar module get closer to touchdown and eaves dropping on Mission Control questioning the safety of landing was when everyone stopped breathing.

"Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed," Armstrong announces, breaking the tension in the control room as a controller tells the crew "You got a bunch of guys about to turn blue, we're breathing again."

Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin would spend two hours on the moon July 19, collecting souvenirs and leaving a few of their own; an American flag and a plaque that reads, "Here men from the planet Earth first set foot upon the moon. July 1969 A.D. We came in peace for all mankind." I would be fortunate enough to see two of the souvenirs in my lifetime: a moon rock at Chicago's Museum of Science and Industry and the actual space capsule at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C., Much smaller than I expected, I might add.

With less than 20 percent of its employees under the age of 40, NASA Office of Program Analysis and Evaluation calls the space agency "mono-generational," meaning it is composed almost entirely of members of the Baby Boomer generation. I think its time to reignite the spark of awe there once was in our space program and inspire a new generation to shoot for the stars.

Quote of the Week: "There is a photograph that shows splashdown inside the control room. There's a guy standing by the console with a huge piece of paper. That's me. I got the signatures of everybody in that room and in the back room. Every time I did that I would ask them their age. Well, I sat down and ran it out. The average age the night we had splashdown was 28." When Space Shuttle Atlantis left Earth on May 11, 2009, the average NASA civil servant's age was 47." H. David Reed, a flight dynamics officer during Apollo 11.

I had this Chuck Mangione album...right along side my KISS and Cheap Trick albums

Americans Are Suckers for Pitchmen With Accents

As seen in the Albuquerque Journal, Rio Rancho section 07/11/09

The phrase "Sell the sizzle, not the steak" is the old adage that the advertising industry creatives live by. Executives have been honing their skills for years trying to figure out what is going to make average consumers go out and spend their hard-earned dollar on something they didn't know they wanted until they were told they couldn't live without it. And one way to do it is to put a big personality out front to make the product sound like the answer to all your prayers, aka the pitchman.

How many young people out there bought their parents a ShamWow for Christmas last year? I know my youngest daughter wanted to buy me one, and my nephew actually did give my sister one. How could they help themselves, those poor innocent consumers? Watching a captivating commercial every half hour on the television and a slick salesman like Vince telling them they needed one for "the shower, the boat and the RV." Those kind-hearted, gift-giving urchins didn't stand a chance.

Pitchmen have been shouting at us since before television existed, but TV only gave them a bigger audience. Even Jack LaLanne, the exercise guru of the '60s, is hawking his Power Juicer, beauty products, belt buckles and T-shirts. I remember I used to watch Jack Lalanne on TV when I was young and home sick from school. I would turn on his exercise show (it was in black and white) and dunk my Oreos in my milk as he counted out the repetitions. He was persuasive in getting me to hold on to a chair and do leg lifts every now and then, but mostly I just waited to see if Happy, his white shepherd dog, would come onto the set. A Power Juicer? If Jack Lalanne says it's good, it has to be.

It was sad news to hear Billy Mays died recently. Everyone knows Billy Mays for OxiClean. Billy Mays for Orange Glo, Billy Mays for Kaboom. With a very recognizable presentation voice, you knew when his commercials came on without even seeing the screen. I have to admit, I couldn't take Billy Mays in the morning. He may have been very successful at his career, but that decibel is not acceptable before the noon hour.

What is it with Americans and the English accent? For some reason, we just attach authority to it no matter what the subject is. Take the other big pitchman out there, Anthony "Sully" Sullivan. You know him for products such as the Swivel Sweeper, the TapLight, the Smart Chopper, the One Sweep, the Natural Bra, the Jet Tan, the Slimming Pants, the Glass Wizard, the Laser Straight, the Westinghouse StickUp Bulb, the Grater Plater, the Point 'n Paint and the list goes on and on.

There have been many famous pitchmen over the years who have begged for your money. Dave Thomas, founder of the Wendy's fast food chain, was the pitchman for his own company. Remember Florence Henderson and her "Wesson-ality?"

Bill Cosby was one of my favorites. He used to pitch Jell-O brand pudding for years. I still have my Old Weird Harold plastic pudding cup in my cupboard from the '70s. I am sure my granddad saved countless box tops and sent away for it, just like he did my Tony the Tiger spoon; which is in my silverware drawer right now.

But wait, there's more! Remember John Cameron Swayze for Timex? How about Madge the manicurist for Palmolive dishwashing liquid — you're soaking in it.

As long as there is life on the planet, there will be pitchmen standing in line to sell you something you probably don't need. So don't get out that credit card too quickly, unless of course, he has an English accent.

Quote of the week: "I talked, I yelled, I hawked, and it worked! I was stuffing money into my pockets, more money than I had ever seen in my life." — Ron Popeil, maker of the Vegomatic.

Jack and Happy

We Could Be Doing Much More To Stop These DWIs

I am having a hard time keeping my composure and anger intact in respect to the recent accident by an alleged drunk driver who killed four children in Santa Fe.

It didn't matter that they were young and inexperienced drivers. They didn't stand a chance.

If the suspect was indeed drunk, consider it another in a long line of senseless crimes caused by selfish people who have no care or concern for anyone else in this world but themselves.

When I was 17, my girlfriend and I were hit head-on by a man driving the wrong way on a one-way street. The driver was leaving a bar in his late model Cadillac around 9:30 p.m. on a Friday night, and we had just left the ice cream shop in our sub-compact Dodge Colt. Upon breaking the windshield with my head, I suffered a concussion and broken jaw.

We were both banged up pretty badly, but lived. We were lucky.

Unfortunately, many of us know someone who has lost a loved one.

I have some friends who lost their daughter four years ago in another senseless accident. She was 18 years old, and the accident happened the night before she was to go away to college.

Their sadness, confusion and torture is easily seen on the pages of a Web site where her parents, friends and strangers leave little heartfelt messages to their deceased daughter, telling her how much they miss her, how she would have liked the recent trip to the beach, and how they are still trying to come to terms with losing their only daughter who meant the world to them, just like all of our children do.

The notes left by the girl's mother are the hardest to read as she tries to "move on," like she is advised. But as you read her messages, you can see that after four years it still feels like she lost her daughter last night. She sees the notes from her daughter's friends who have gone through college and are now graduating. Friends tell the girl about their marriages, their babies, their new careers in exciting fields — all things the girl's mom and dad had hoped for their daughter.

Too much heartache that in most cases is preventable.

What can we do? In recent years, several U.S. states (including Georgia, Illinois, Maryland, Missouri, New York, Virginia and Washington) have introduced legislation to combat drunken driving, including issuing unique colored license plates to designate drivers with criminal records for driving while intoxicated. Ohio issues bright yellow tags that contrast nicely on the road with their normally white tags.

Opponents of specialized drunk driver license plates bemoan the apparent stigma associated with having to wear the "scarlet letter." But isn't that the point? Since a fine and some jail time doesn't seem to discourage drunk drivers, it's time we upped the ante. It's time for a change.

According to data from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration's report on motor vehicle deaths, the Fourth of July is the second-deadliest holiday to be on the road. An estimated 53 percent of fatal Fourth of July crashes involve at least one drunk driver.

The top five most dangerous holidays to be on the road are:
1. Thanksgiving
2. 4th of July
3. Memorial Day
4. Labor Day
5. New Year's Eve

Please be careful out there today and get home early tonight. Be responsible. Be a defensive driver. And let there be no drunk driving deaths to report tomorrow.

Quote of the Week: "Road sense is the offspring of courtesy and the parent of safety." — Australian Traffic Rule.

Your Wanderlust is Calling You

As seen in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho and Westside sections 6/27/09

With summer in full swing now, vacation plans are being executed as families hit the open road in search of grand adventures, snow cones and suntans. Whether it is the biggest ball of twine, the Grand Canyon or the ambiguous "anywhere but here," it is summer and America is heeding the call of the wild blue yonder and escaping to new destinations yet unseen.

When I was young, I had a hard time falling asleep at night. Thinking music would help lull me to sleep, my mother bought me a Sony Digimatic Flip-Clock Radio for Christmas one year. This ultra-mod, state-of-the-art clock radio was white plastic, the coolest of the cool since all clock radios up until then came in black only. Four buttons on top; on/off, AM/FM, set/release, radio/alarm. The radio dial was backlit in space-age green and a soft amber-colored light lit up the black flaps with white numbers that flipped over one minute at a time. How can I recall such detail after all of these years? Because it didn't lull me to sleep. I knew every inch of that radio because I stared at it every night for years as I lay awake in bed carefully turning the dial ever so slowly in attempts to find the furthermost station in the tri-state area. It woke up the wanderlust embers that were smoldering inside of me from the bed I shared with my dog, in the bedroom I shared with my sister, in my little mid-Michigan town of Saginaw.

Wanderlust: A very strong or irresistible impulse to travel. We all have it and I think it is born within us, surfacing somewhere between adolescence and "get me out of here." Every night was like taking a trip and not knowing the destination. As the night grew longer, local stations would go off the air leaving the airwaves open for picking up the far away stations. The first time I tuned in to WJR in Detroit, albeit just two hours south of my bedroom, to me it was another world. I could hear the music the people in Detroit were hearing. I could hear commercials for local restaurants. I could hear their temperature and weather forecast for that night. Here was a bigger city for me to discover.

Soon WJR became an old friend. But when I found CKLW out of Canada, I thought I hit the big time. So what if it was Windsor, Ontario, just across the Detroit River, it was still another country for Pete's sake. Another big city I would eventually see.

My favorite discovery up until then had to have been hearing WLS in Chicago; a full 300 miles away. They had skyscrapers in Chicago, the Loop and the Sears Tower. But the coolest difference between Chicago and my bedroom? They were an hour earlier than I was. Another time zone. Score!

The greatest escape on my radio was finding WABC in New York City, 700 miles away. Talk about a big city. New York City made Detroit look like Saginaw, and I couldn't get enough. What did Broadway look like? Wall Street? Tunnels and bridges? And their summertime temperatures were so much hotter than mine. The wanderlust bug bit me hard, and I knew there was a world out there just waiting for me to discover.

If you haven't hit the road yet this summer and are in town looking for a little escape from your regular routine this weekend, head over to the New Mexico Arts and Crafts Fair at the state fairgrounds. On Saturday from 10a.m.-8 p.m. and Sunday from 10 a.m.-5 p.m. artists will be selling their glasswork, paintings, jewelry, sculpture, photography and much more.

Quote of the Week: "Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life." — Jack Kerouac

In honor of Michael Jackson...