happenstance, life happens

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I I n n s s i i d d e e : : T T r r i i b b u u t t e e V V o o i i c c e e s s T T h h a a n n k k s s g g i i v v i i n n g g A A L L a a s s V Ve e g g a a s s L L e e g g e e n n d d S S o o m m e e o o n n e e s s i i n n t t h h e e K K i i t t c c h h e e n n A A r r t t i i s s t t G G a a i i l l M M a a l l l l e e y y W W h h o o s s Y Yo o u u r r H H e e r r o o S S i i l l e e n n c c e e F F r r o o m m t t h h e e P P a a s s t t F F o o c c u u s s o o n n F F i i t t n n e e s s s s M M o o r r e e f f r r o o m m T T i i g g e e r r L L i i l l l l y y , , b b y y F F. . S S . . V Va a n n d d e e r r M M e e e e r r Happenstance Happenstance life happens life happens NOVEMBER 1, 2010

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General interest magazine with local, small town flavor that includes arts, opinion, fiction, foods, culture and more.

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Page 1: Happenstance, life happens

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NOVEMBER 1, 2010

Page 2: Happenstance, life happens

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• Poetry and Essays• Short Fiction or Memoirs about

holiday experiences• Artist Feature (Suggest a person you

would like to see featured or submit an article)• Book and Entertainment Reviews

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How You Can Help Spread the

HappenstanceWord

e-mail the

Happenstancelink to your friends and contact lists

Happenstanceis also accessible at

www.vandermeerbooks.com

Books byF.S. Vander Meer

Available at Happenstance • 614 8th Street Tome on the Range Bookstore

158 Bridge Street

Not Just Another Day is a series of dailyreflections that celebrate the gift of life.Based on the author’s Christian faith tradition the book uses Bible passages,prayers and readings to capture thecommon experience of living a life offaith in an ever-changing world.

In Future Imperfect conflicting forces control two individuals seeking stabilityand sanity amid escalating political andenvironmental chaos. Their lives arefraught with lies, treachery, and an al-tered environment.

In The Ballad of Bawdy McClure shorthauler Jake Casey is confronted with theage old question: Who can you trust?From the opening scene in which hefinds the body of his murdered friend tothe end he is constantly questioning themotives of those closest to him.

Tome on the Range believes that the independentbookstore is the heart of a community and that aliterate community is a vibrant community. Inaddition to an outstanding inventory of books,games, and toys for children and adults, we offer avariety of events to engage and expand their creativeand intellectual muscle! For up-to-date info onwhat‘s happening at Tome, please visit us online!

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Page 3: Happenstance, life happens

FFrroomm tthhee eeddiittoorr……

You’re going to love this issue! I received wonderfulsubmissions from several people and I know youwill enjoy reading them.

As we enter a holiday season full of activities, I wanted topause and reflect on the lives of two people who meant somuch to me, my dad, Tommy Conkle, and my sister-in-law,Lisa Wright Conkle. You can read my thoughts in Tribute onpage 4.

I’m a great admirer of people who are outspoken and fo-cused. Voices on page 5 features, what I hope will be, amonthly column from Tome on the Range owner, Nancy Co-lalillo. Her column looks at the changing face of publishingand independent business as a whole.

Pages 6 and 7 are dedicated to Thanksgiving, featuringchildren from New Horizons School at the PresbyterianChurch, a poem and a trip down memory lane.

Mama Lucy was an iconic figure in Las Vegas and a greatcook. See some of her reciepes on page 8. Kathy Allen is backwith a new recipe and neighborly news on page 9.

Pastels and photographs make for a terrific combinationin a new show at Traveler’s Cafe featuring the work of GailMalley, an artist whose interests are as varied as the land-scapes and images she captures in her work. See the article onpage 10.

I’ve been a fan of Cindy Charlton for years. Her characteris defined by courage, persistence and optimism in the face ofadversity. She is bright, witty, and has a beautiful singingvoice. When slammed with a new reality in her life severalyears ago she didn’t give up or give in; she forged ahead. Seeher story, Whose Your Hero, on page 12.

Silence From the Past (page 13), reflects on the changingface of Kim Delgado’s community of Chaperito. There isn’tmuch left but the cemetery, yet the voices of yesterday speakto her—and us.

Karen Topping is one of my favorite people. She is funny,sensitive and has a handle on what it means to be fit in a soci-ety caught up in being perfect rather than healthy. Her article,Exercise: Fitness, Fashion and Fun, is a look at exercise from JackLalanne to what’s happening today. See page 14.

And Tiger Lilly is back. Two more chapters are includedfor your reading pleasure, beginning on page 16.

Thanks for reading! Please forward Happenstance to peo-ple who you think might enjoy it.

—Sharon

Happenstancelife happens

Vol 2, No. 2, November 1, 2010 Happenstance is a digital publication of vandermeerbooks.com

Cover Photo: Splashes of Aspen (Sharon Vander Meer)Copyright, Sharon Vander Meer, Vander Meer Books

Select content may be used with appropriate attribution: Sharon Vander Meer, [email protected]

Other photos not identified are by: Sharon Vander MeerSome images from: clipart.com

It’s Lasagna Time!Thursday, Nov. 11

Hillcrest Dining RoomServing from 11:30 to 1 & 4:30 to 7

Tickets available at 614 8th Street or from any Rotary Member

$10 per personEnter for a chance to win an Apple I-Pad

Proceeds benefit Rotary’s Coats for Kids program, SpecialOlympics, NMHU and LCC Scholarships, Youth Recognition

Happenstancelife happens

Contributions welcomePoetryPhotos

Unique StoriesShort Fiction

EssaysSuggestionsOpinions

Advertising (For rates call 505 617-0839)

E-mail submissions to: [email protected]

Happenstance is a digital magazine available free from the publisher. Please forward this on to anyone

you think might be interested in receiving it.

If you would like to subscribe please e-mail your request to [email protected]

If you have received this and do not wish to receive it in the future, please send your

request to unsubscribe to [email protected]

All comments will be appreciated and considered. Happenstance is intended to appeal to a widerange of readers. Material will be selected based on generalappeal to a wide readership, with a focus on Las Vegas, NM,

and the area.

Thank you for reading Happenstance.

Happenstance is a publication of Vander Meer Books

614 8th Street • PO Box 187Las Vegas, NM 87701

www.vandermeerbooks.comCopyright 2010

Select material may only be used by permission with appropriate attribution.

Page 4: Happenstance, life happens

Thanksgiving will be here before I’mready. This year there will be twoempty places at the table. My fa-

ther, Tommy Conkle, and my sister-in-law,Lisa Wright Conkle, passed away thissummer. While it would be a stretch tosay our family got together every yearfor Thanksgiving it is their absence fromour lives that makes us stop… and thenstart up again, like a pause in the heart-beat when you’ve been surprised bysomething. It continues to surprise all ofus that these two people, who influencedour family in different ways, are not in thenext room or at least a phone call away.

Dad and Lisa were not alike, but theyhad a fundamental bond that lasted from themoment Lisa was introduced into our lives rightup until Dad took his last breath.

My father spent a lot of time thinking about family, andevery member of the family was like every other member asfar as Dad was concerned. When Mom passed away nearlytwenty-five years ago Dad struggled with loneliness and didthe very thing Mom predicted he would do, he found alovely women he felt good being with, and married her.

To say we (his children) were surprised would be an un-derstatement, despite Mother having told us it would hap-pen. Dad not only embraced his new partner, he embracedher entire family, three daughters and a son, and their vari-ous adult children, nieces, nephews, siblings, in-laws, andout-laws; he took them into his heart without reserve. Hefound room there for them and us.

When we were growing up we never thought muchabout our father’s capacity for loving others. In many wayshe was the strong/silent type. We knew he was there for usthrough thick and thin, and that’s all that mattered. He wasnot a big man in stature but he was enormous in his dedica-tion to family and faith.

I’m thankful Dad was my dad. He wasn’t perfect andthere were times when we didn’t agree on much of anything,but he taught me lessons that will remain with me through-out my lifetime.

One lesson came out of an event that made me so angryI didn’t think I would ever speak to Dad again. I was sixteenand had just broken up with some guy. I was pretty upset bythe whole thing (as only an angst-ridden teenage girl can be)and told my mom about it. She told my dad. They didn’tkeep anything from each other. For some reason Dadthought it was up to him to say something to the now ex-

boyfriend. Picture that scene, will you? Can youimagine my humiliation upon learning my dad

had gone to this guy and let him have it?It took a while for me to forgive him,

but the lesson from that experience wasthat my dad would do anything to keepme (or any of us kids) from being hurt.When we hurt, he hurt. The incidenttaught me quite a lot about what itmeans to be a parent.

Lisa could always make you laugh.Her sense of fun permeated every aspectof her life. She didn’t take herself too se-riously but she did take seriously her role

as a mother and wife. She was absolutelythe toughest person I’ve ever known.

Lisa endured a lot of physical pain be-cause of a bone deficiency, and later because of

cancer, but she kept that pain to herself. Maybe mybrother, Marc, and their kids knew of her pain, but peo-

ple who came into contact with her outside that immediatefamily circle did not. She never complained and carried anair of serenity about her that was humbling.

Generally Lisa could find something good in everyone.That isn’t to say she didn’t have strong opinions about cer-tain actions and behaviors. She was quite clear about herconservative values.

She worked in my husband’s office for a number ofyears, mostly processing insurance claims, but often helpingpatients, assisting them in selecting frames and fitting eye-wear. She was dedicated to doing a good job and foundways to make each day enjoyable by bringing her sense offun into the workplace. The patients loved her.

As a wife and mom, her legacy cannot be measured. Shewas tough when she needed to be, and gentle when gentle-ness was called for. In her last days on this earth, after twoyears of struggling with cancer, she wanted nothing morethan for her family to be okay, for them to find joy in life, re-main faithful, and be there for each other.

The pain of loss remains and will continue for a while,but, Lisa, they’re going to be okay, because in all the waysthat make a difference, they are there for each other becauseyou were always there for them.

I guess this is a love letter to Dad and Lisa, my sister ofthe heart. I miss them both and am thankful to have hadthem in my life. As a believer, it is not “goodbye,” it’s “seeyou later.”

—by Sharon Vander Meer, Happenstance editor and publisher

������

It is not“goodbye,” it’s “see you

later.”������

Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 4

TRIBUTE

Page 5: Happenstance, life happens

Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 5

Recently I was asked tospeak to a Luna classabout e-books. Some

of you may think that request wasequivalent to waving a red flag infront of a bull, which is partly trueas I am a Taurus!

The discussion about e-booksand their impact on publishingand bookselling is everywhere,including the general press. Iron-ically, the discussion is mostly in e-format, except at in-dustry conferences and trade shows where Pollyannabooksellers refuse to join in the ululations lamenting thedeath of the printed book.

Independent booksellers do have a few issues withe-books, mostly because the reigning champion of e-read-ers, the Kindle, requires that one purchase e-books fromthe single-breasted, giantess online retailer. E-books to beread on the more democratic and less greedy ipad andSony e-reader can be purchased, in theory, anywhere. Infact, by Christmas, that should include the website ofTome on the Range. The American Booksellers Associa-tion, of which Tome is a member, has partnered withGoogle to make e-books easily available through itsmembers’ websites. Hooray! One for the indies.

In any event, the discussion at Luna soon gave wayto the broader topics of beleaguered booksellers, belea-guered independent businesses, and beleaguered oldfolks because this conversation does have a generationalcomponent to it.

Some long-time indie booksellers are choosing to sellor close, realizing that they don’t have the skills, stamina,or bank account to deal with another technological shift.(Chain bookstores are closing bricks-and-mortar storesas well.)

Independent businesses have an uphill fight, partic-ularly in challenging economic times, as shoppers under-standably, though myopically, focuson the short-term impact of theireconomic choices rather than thelonger-term consequences of whatthese choices mean for their state,town, and local economy. Boo! Onefor Wally-World and e-tailers.(Three very vocal students an-

swered in the affirmative when I asked who would becontent if their only shopping choice were a big box store.Interestingly, none were from LV.)

Which brings me back to bookselling. The Luna stu-dents were watching a PBS News Hour discussion whenI arrived. One participant, an author agent, was well-in-formed and articulate while the still-wet-behind-the-earspublisher was not. The agent’s point: e-books are just an-other medium, another delivery system, like plumbing.The bookselling world as we know it did not end whenaudio books came on the scene nor when mass-marketpaperbacks appeared. In fact, recent numbers from a Har-ris Poll suggest that those who own e-readers are readingmore printed books than before they owned that device.Dare I say, e-readers make sense for some books and gen-res, and certainly for avid readers who travel. (There is, ofcourse, the issue of curating the non-printed word. Cananyone retrieve, let alone read, what they wrote on their286 processor…?)

Which brings me back to red; red herring, that is. Fo-cusing on e-books as the problem facing the industry is ared herring. Many of the issues are systemic and most re-quire an innovative look at problem-definition, let aloneproblem-solving. In my opinion, issues include too manybooks being published, predatory pricing, and a books-as-commodity mindset. These are just some of the factorscontributing to more red…at the bottom line. It’s a com-plex situation, the fallout from which is hitting homeright here at Tome.

Ten years ago you’d be reading this in a printed issueof the much-missed Hermit’s Peak Gazette. “The times theyare a-changin’”. Who knows; maybe in ten more yearsnothing will be “printed”. Instead, we will have perfectedthe Vulcan mind meld and won’t need to “read” any-thing.

—Nancy Colalillo is owner of Tome on the Range Book-store in Las Vegas, NM., and an advocate for independent busi-ness.

An Enterprising Solution

CCoollaalliilllloo

VOICES

Check out these links for more informationwww.indiebound.org

amiba.nethttp://www.newyorker.com/reporing/2010/04/26/100426fa_fact_auletta

Page 6: Happenstance, life happens

Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 6

Three to five year old children are more focused onthe next holiday (Halloween) rather than the oneafter that (Thanksgiving). However a few of them

agreed to answer three basic questions about the upcomingturkey day with their responses to these questions:

• What does Thanksgiving mean to you?• How do you cook a turkey?• What is your favorite pie and why do you like it?Keeping that in mind enjoy these perspectives.

— Irie Kongaika, 3Thank you. We eat a turkey. Cherry because I like cherries.

— Serenity Chavez, 3It’s like having another birthday. I eat it. Blueberry is my favorite.

— Jordon Padilla, 4My mom ate turkey. In the stove. Pumpkin because I like it.

—Katyanna Tech, 4 1/2I just don’t know. Put it in the oven. Cherry becauseI like it.

— Nico Ulibarri, 4Thank you. In a stove. The red one because I like red.

— D’Mario Gallegos, 4Excuse me, please and thank you. With a pan. Blueberry because I like it.

— Kimberly Fox, 4It means we are sharing. Put it in an oven. Pecan because I like nuts.

—Mateo Contreras, 4Turkey. My Nunnie puts it in a big bowl. Put it in a pan and in the stove. Blueberry because it is my favorite color.

— Danilliah Bach, 4 1/2My mom buys the food. In the stove. Ice cream because I like it.

— Julianna Dominsque, 4Thanksgiving. With fire. Cherry because I like it.

— Sandy Cordova, 3My daddy. In the snow. My birthday because I like it.

—Presbyterian New Horizons School, serving children two totwelve years old, is located at 1000 Douglas Ave., and is open Mon-day - Friday. The curriculum includes math, literacy, and develop-ment of basic learning skills. For more information contact 505425-3258

Several children from the NewHorizons School answered questionsabout Thanksgiving. See their re-sponses below.

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It Isn’t ThanksgivingWithout Turkey

Page 7: Happenstance, life happens

Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 7

Happy Thanksgiving

In praisePsalm 119:169-176

I lift my voice unto the Lord,giving praise and thanksgiving,knowing each moment is a giftto be treasured and expanded uponbased on the talentswith which I have been blessed.

I kneel in prayerasking for understandingand the ability to liveas defined by my Faith commitment,depending on the love of Godto support me in times of trouble.

I open my heart to lovethat passes all understandingand find ways to reflect that lovein my travel through life,knowing all I do and accomplishcomes from ability given to me by God.

I strive to live with joy,emulating Christin my interactions with othersand in the decisions I make,understanding that without Godand his love for me, I am nothing.

When I stray I seek God’s faceto find my way backinto the fold where I knowI will be accepted and protected,for my trustis in my Creator.

—Sharon Vander MeerFrom “Not Just Another Day”

My first memory of Thanksgiving was the year Iate turkey three times, once at my aunt’s (whichwas okay, she wasn’t much of a cook), once at

my grandmother’s (which was unfortunate because she wasa fantastic cook and I ate too much), and finally at home whereI looked at my mother’s perfect meal and almost threw up. Iwas five and had, as my dad said, “A hole in my toe,” mean-ing I ate like a horse despite being thin as a minute and smallfor my age.

It all came about because Mom was trying to make every-body happy. She didn’t want to hurt my aunt’s feelings by notgoing to her house for Thanksgiving, and what woman in herright mind wants to tick off her mother-in-law? Dad, blesshim, figured it would be all right, because after all, can youget too much turkey on Thanksgiving?

My aunt (Mom’s sister) liked to have Thanksgiving earlyso we ate at her house about one o’clock. Grandma hadmidafternoon Thanksgiving meals so at about three o’clockwe were tucking into a feast of turkey and all the trimmings:dressing, cranberry sauce, three kinds of vegetables includingyummy sweet potatoes with mounds of marshmallows ontop, two kinds of jello salad, pies and cakes up the wazoo andfruit salad with real whipped cream. It was heaven.

And then we got home and had to do it all over again. Imean, really, I didn’t want to hurt Mom’s feelings by not eat-ing her meal, prepared with loving hands. So despite mes-sages my brain was sending to my stomach that I’d hadenough, I dug in with gusto.

It turns out you can have too much turkey on Thanksgiv-ing.

Turkey and All the Trimmings

Page 8: Happenstance, life happens

Many people knew her as Mama Lucy, a nameshe got from Highlands students who gravi-tated to her nurturing spirit. “She treated them

like family,” said her daughter-in-law, Caroline Lopez. In theFifties she was voted Mother of the Year by members of asorority. The familiar and comforting label, Mama, became apart of who she was.

An iconic figure in Las Vegas because of her cookingskills, Lucy Lopez became a legend in her own time whenher restaurant on the Plaza began to attract politicians, someof whom were former Highlands students. The ‘Mama LucyGang’ wasn’t so much a political force as it was a bunch ofgood old boys getting together to talk about politics and life.Along the way a few deals were struck that made their wayto the Roundhouse.

Her true claim to fame was her delicious food. Lucypassed away some years ago, but her recipes continue to nur-ture her family, prepared with love by Caroline and Lucy’sdaughter, Loretta Lopez.

Caroline, a middle school social studiesteacher for thirty-four years (thirty-one of themin the West Las Vegas district) is the daughterof Ramon and Euphelia Garduno. “When I wasgrowing up, being told to help with supper wasa chore. Lucy made it fun. My cooking skills area result of watching and learning from her over the years.

“She had a knack for taking a recipe she saw in a maga-zine or one that was given to her, and making it her own,”Caroline said. “And she could make a meal out of anything!She would look in the refrigerator and say, ‘Darling, I don’tknow what to make.’ And then she would say, ‘I know,’ andstart asking for different things, ‘Traeme esas papas,’ (bringme those potatoes, or whatever ingredient she wanted) andon and on. Before you knew it we had a wonderful meal, andplenty, enough for everyone and some to share. She was cre-ative and brought that creativity to every thing she cooked.”

Caroline laughs. “I liked to watch her make pies. Sheasked me one day if I wanted to learn, and of course, I saidyes! She said it’s all in the crust. She would watch me and tellme what adjustments to make until the dough had the right‘feel.’ She would make dough and tell me to feel it to see if Icould tell the difference. It took time but I learned the art ofpiecrust.” The same types of careful lessons applied to mak-ing biscochitos. “And you never used a cookie cutter!”

Lucy’s daughter, Loretta, said her mother believed cook-ing was more than following a recipe.

BISCOCHITOS

In a bowl, combine the following dry ingredients:4 cups flour¾ tsp. baking powder¼ tsp. salt

In a separate bowl:Mix until fluffy

1 cup Morell Lard2 cups sugar

Add 3 eggs to the sugar mixture. Mix well.Add 1 tsp anise seedsAdd a dash of Brandy (optional)Add dry ingredientsMix together to make a dough mixture.Roll dough about ¼ inches thick.Cut biscochitos in traditional shape.Dip top side in cinnamon-sugar mixture.Place in ungreased baking sheet about an inch apart.Bake at 375 for 10-15 minutes or until the bottoms arebrown but not burned.Amount will vary according to size of biscochitos.

PECAN PIE(2 pies)

6 eggs2 cups brown sugar1 cup dark Karo Syrup1 cube melted butter¼ tsp. salt1 cup pecans (crushed into pieces)8 tlbs. light Rum (optional)

Beat eggs. Add the remaining ingredients. Pour into un-baked pie shell. Fill to the top. Bake at 375 for 1hr. 15 min-utes. Cover the top with aluminum foil for the last 20minutes.

Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 8

Lucy Lopez, A Las Vegas Legend

— SEE MAMA LUCY ON PAGE 19—

Page 9: Happenstance, life happens

SSOOMMEEOONNEE’’SS IINN TTHHEE KKIITTCCHHEENN

It’s that time of year againwhen the cattle trucksloaded with fat calves,

yearling heifers, or yearlingsteers are going up and down thehighways. Surely you have seenthem. Getting the animals to thispoint has been both interestingand sometimes frustrating, butthe camaraderie among the cow-boys (and cowgirls), who make ithappen, is hard to top.

Stories of “wrecks” aboundand laughter is heard over thenoisy bunched cattle. Neighbor-ing (you help me, I’ll help you) isthe name of the game. The mealfollowing the work is a big deal. The cowboys have beenknown to help—or NOT—based on the meal they know willfollow the work.

This year I only fixed one meal as the cattle owner pro-vided the others—except for my homemade bread and peachjam. The following recipe is one I found in Western Horsemanmagazine. They noted, “This pasta dish originated in a NewMexico ranch cookhouse in the 1960s.” Western Horseman hasstarted putting a recipe in each issue. I haven’t tried any ofthe others, yet, but this one is a keeper. I changed the originalrecipe a little, so I’ll give you the original and then tell whatI did differently. Hope you like it. The men did!

Mexican Vermicelli

2 Tablespoons shortening 2 cups onions, diced½ pound (8 oz.) Vermicelli 2 cups celery, chopped1 to 1 ½ pounds ground beef ½ cup green pepper, chopped1 teaspoon salt 1 16 oz. can stewed or diced tomatoes1 teaspoon pepper 1 ½ cups whole kernel corn1 teaspoon chili powder 1 cup waterDash of garlic powder 8 slices of any type of cheese

Brown vermicelli in short-ening, breaking the pasta intosmall pieces. Stir in groundbeef and brown, draining ex-cess fat. Add remaining ingre-dients and blend. (Do notseason meat before draining.)Cook on stovetop over lowheat for 25 minutes. Prior toserving, place cheese slices ontop and allow them to melt.

Okay, here is what I do differently:

I use two cans of Roteltomatoes and green chilies in-stead of the tomatoes. I drain

the corn and use that liquid as part of the 1 cup water. Afterthe mixture has cooked for 25 minutes I put a layer of themixture in a 9 X 13 inch cake pan and also a smaller casseroledish (this makes lots!). Then I sprinkle the layer with a mix-ture of shredded Colby jack and cheddar cheese and shred-ded mozzarella cheese. Add another layer of themeat/vermicelli mixture and top with more of the cheeses.

Place in 300 degree oven until cheese is melted and mix-ture is hot. OR you can refrigerate for later baking/warmingup. If you do refrigerate, I would wait to put the top layerof cheese on until the mixture has been reheated. I havefound that a half recipe serves 4-5 people.

Serve with seasoned green beans, tossed salad, and garlicbread. Yummy!

Someone’s in the Kitchenis a compilation of recipes fromKathy Allen.The book is avail-able from Happenstance as adigital file on CD or as a PDFe-mailed directly to you. Thebeauty of electronic cook-books is that you can print out

recipes as you need them and you don’t have tofind shelf space for book storage. For more infor-mation call 617-0839 or e-mail [email protected].

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Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 9

Down Home Cooking For a Neighborly EventAArrttiiccllee aanndd pphhoottoo bbyy KKaatthhyy AAlllleenn

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Page 10: Happenstance, life happens

Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 10

In the room Gail Malley uses as a studio, lightpours through the window and onto a workin progress. The drawing is pinned to a sur-

face surrounded by photos she has taken, from whichshe will create finished pastels. Around the roompieces waiting to be framed are mixed in with itemsalready prepared for display. Some have been shownin other galleries, but most are new. The space is de-fined by a sense of orderliness and serenity.

The strength of her cultured, slightly Europeanvoice, and her upright carriage convey a youthfulquality that belies the fact that she will soon turneighty. Add to that a commitment to hang her artshow by Nov. 1, and you have a woman with a cre-ative soul combined with focus and dedication whoseenergy outstrips that of many people half her age.

Pastels and Photography by Gail Malley is now ondisplay at Traveler’s Café, 1814 Plaza, and will be upthrough the month of November. An opening recep-tion is set for Saturday, Nov. 6, from 3-5 p.m.

Gail said her arrival in Las Vegas nearly twentyyears ago was like cominghome. “I love it here. It isone of the most beautifulplaces I’ve been. The pace ismore relaxed; there is a senseof peace, and a blend of cul-tures. It felt comfortable rightaway.” This from a womanwho was born in South Amer-ica, grew up in New York City,and lived for 25 years inEgypt. She has traveled theworld but something about

Las Vegas appealed to her and made her feel instantly athome.

That shows in her art, strikingly colorful whetherrendered through the eye of a camera, or with soft glow-ing pastels. Currently she is fascinated by a garden on6th Street that has eye-grabbing bursts of color. She hastaken dozens of photographic studies of the garden andis now transforming those images into various works ofart. One is a full view including the house; another is asection of the garden. To look at this ‘cropped’ image youwould think you were outside town in a special place cre-ated just for you.

Article by Sharon Vander MeerPhotos by Gail Malley

The Colors of New Mexico Inspire Artist Gail Malley

TThhiiss ggaarrddeenn wwiitthh iittss vviibbrraanntt ccoolloorrss aanndd vvaarriieettyy ooff tteerrrraaiinn kkeeppttccaalllliinngg ttoo tthhee aarrttiisstt aass sshhee wwaallkkeedd ppaasstt eeaacchh ddaayy.. SShhee ttooookk ccoouunnttlleesssspphhoottooss aatt ddiiffffeerreenntt ttiimmeess ooff ddaayy aanndd ffrroomm tthhaatt hhaass ccrreeaatteedd ppaasstteellsstthhaatt bbuurrsstt wwiitthh lliiffee..

GGaaiill MMaalllleeyy

“I spent my career tellingothers, ‘You can do it.’

I decided to take my own advice.”

Page 11: Happenstance, life happens

The show will exhibit a variety of works, including pho-tographs, her pastels, and a wonderful embroidery piece.

It is instantly obvious that color plays a big part in herchoices of subject matter. The embroidery—probably nolarger than six inches by nine inches—is of trees against acloud-filled blue sky. There are shades of autumn color anda sense of chill in the air. It’s beautifully done and is a testa-ment to creativity and whimsy.

Gail said embroidery can sometimes be a means of man-aging her desire to control everything all of the time, a partof her character that likely made her good at her job of en-couraging others to see their potential. In Egypt, Grail, theagency for which she worked for, helped women by promot-ing literacy and economic programs. “We created a co-op forthem which they ran.” The co-op’s products were embroi-deries that depicted community life as well as other images.

A career spent encouraging others may have contributedto Gail becoming an artist after she moved to Las Vegas. “Ispent my career telling others, ‘You can do it.’ I decided totake my own advice.”

The impetus for photography was her search for cardsto send to people that reflected the beauty of the area. “Icouldn’t find anything I liked, so I created my own.”

The urge to do pastels springsfrom her love of Northern New Mex-ico landscapes. “The play of colorand light is wonderful; I see some-thing magical that keeps me looking.The process is so wonderful and ex-citing when it works; you are in yourown space, and time doesn’t exist.”She smiles, perhaps slightly sur-prised by this personal revelation.

Gail has no formal art training.She sees an image she likes and shegoes to work, first with a camera andthen through interpretive renderingin pastel or embroidery. She says thedetail in her work is representa-tional. “I’m not going for realism;there’s a lot of creative license there.”

That’s fortunate, because as aviewer, you get a sense of optimismand find you have a renewed appre-ciation for an environment you mayhave begun to take for granted. See-ing the trees, mountains, flowers andcommunity through this artist’s eyeshelps you open your own.

Photographs and Pastels by GailMalley will be on exhibit throughNovember at Traveler’s Café. The

public is invited to the opening reception, Saturday, Nov. 6,from 3-5 p.m.

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Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 11

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Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 12

Iwas in the grocery store engaged in the fine art of ex-piration date examination, when I noticed a presencecoming up behind me. I quickly moved my overflow-

ing basket so it didn’t block the aisle—an infraction I havebeen known to grumble about. I mumbled a vague apologyinto the air around me. To my surprise a man, whom I hadnever met, grabbed my hand and began pumping my armwith gusto.

“Thank you,” he said, pumping away. “Thank you forbeing an inspiration.”

At first I thought he must be over-whelmed with gratitude because I moved mybasket and allowed him access to the dairyshelves. Then he said, “It’s so awesome thatyou are here and with no assistance!” Hisvoice was filled with incredulity; disbeliefthat I would be grocery shopping by myself.Frankly grocery shopping by myself has itsperks. It’s always cheaper and almost alwayshealthier—as in food choices—when my kidsaren’t with me.

I thought, “I am over fifty and have hada driver’s license since I was fifteen yearsold.” Given the fact that I graduated from mymother, Fran Charlton’s school of etiquettewith flying colors, I merely smiled andthanked him for his generous words.

As I was heading toward the produce section, I began tosnicker a little. I have a friend, who like me, is a bi-lateralbelow-the-knee amputee. He and I often play the game of,“Who inspires whom the most.” Generally I win, because I’mmissing one more body part than he is, but as I got to think-ing about this compliment delivered next to the low-fat milk,I began to scold myself for being insensitive.

“Good for him for having the courage to approach me inthe first place!” I thought.

As I was pushing my basket, one-handed and on pros-thetic legs, I began to take stock of what I must look like tothe average person. “Not only that,” again in my thoughts,“You alone know what it has taken to get you to this point.”

Being in this exclusive club of limb loss, I know inti-mately what the day to day feels like, what all it entails. Thefirst thing I do every morning when I get up, is put on my

glasses, and then reach for mylegs. Almost always I’m run-ning the “beat the bladder tothe bathroom” race, whilelimping along, trying to get set-tled down into each prosthesis.No matter what the day holdsfor me, no matter how sore ortired my residual limbs are from the day before, the prosthe-ses go on. They are my friends as well as my nemeses, but

they are necessary to my independent way ofliving.

It takes a certain amount of courage tostrap those legs on, when at the start of theday soreness and fatigue are already issues. Ittakes a certain ability and capability to notallow hardship to overrule the decision to gogrocery shopping. As I think about thatstranger in the grocery store I wonder if hewas really so far off of the mark. I certainlydon’t think of myself as courageous for goingto the grocery store alone, or doing anythingby myself, for that matter.

I don’t think of myself as an inspirationwhile squeezing cantaloupes or checking theshelf life on a gallon of milk. I don’t thinkabout what I look like when I’m out in the

public eye, doing my errands and chores—doing the samethings everyone else does, but I live in this body every day,every moment of my life. I‘m used to putting one fake foot infront of the other to accomplish my goals for the day, whetherplacing that foot feels good or not. I’m out there with every-one else, doing the best I can.

It was a good day for me that day in the grocery store. Iwas concentrating more on the purchase of food than I wason the comfort level of my prostheses. I’m sure that ease andcomfort translated as courage and strength to my benevolentstranger. That’s not such a bad way to be viewed. I rarely sitand contemplate about how courageous or inspirational Iam, but I recognize those attributes and use them when Ineed them most. I recognize that others think of me as coura-geous and inspirational and some even see me a veritablehero.

Who’s Your Hero?

CCiinnddyy CChhaarrllttoonn

From shopping to being a single mom, this advocate’s busy life is an inspiration

“It takes a certainamount of courage to

strap those legs on, when at the start of the day soreness and fatigue are

already issues.”

— SEE HERO ON PAGE 19—

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Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 13

The first thing I didwhen we arrived atthe Chaperito

cemetery this summer waslean against our vehicle andlisten. I listened to the wel-come silence in contrast to theman made city noise such asmotorcycles, fireworks andcar horns. This area alwaysseems to have a bit of windand if you listen carefully youcan hear the flapping of anold, rusty tin roof clinging toan old house that refuses togo down with the history ofthis community.

Getting to Chaperito wasquite an experience and wasmade possible by being in a four-wheel drive vehicle. Sincethe road is no longer maintained by the county only thosedetermined individuals trying to visit the family cemeteryactually make the trip.

Chaperito is about thirty-five miles southeast of LasVegas. There are only a few houses still standing, but thosetoo are slowly collapsing back into the earth from which theywere built. There is one house where swallows have madetheir mud nests on the ceiling. It is good to see there is stillsome form of life in my godmother’s front room.

Our family home is now just a pile of rocks. I’m not oneto sit still long enough to meditate, but in this spot I can easilysit quietly and feel very peaceful. I was born and raised inChaperito, this is where I spent my early childhood. My visitshere do not necessarily spark a melancholy mood, but ratherhave a calming affect on my spirit.

While I didn’ t fully understand the meaning of death atage six, I do remember my grandmother passing and all theactivities that went on at her home. It was exciting to be in themiddle of so many people coming and going, but the cryingdid scare me.

I remember vividly the summer thunderstorms whichwere so frightening, especially at night when lightening litup the room followed by the roar of thunder. To this day Ifeel uncomfortable during a thunderstorm. On the plus side,the absence of electricity made the night sky the most beau-tiful that I have ever seen.

After a heavy thunderstorm, I recall the roaring rage ofthe Gallinas River, with its red muddy water carrying logs,trees and other debris. Everyone watching wondered if the

force of the water would takeout the bridge. No one daredto cross until the waters hadsubsided and even then mymother would hold my handtightly as we walked acrossthe bridge.

My mother had so manydaily chores and responsibil-ities and today I look at themas struggles. My father beinggone most of the time to herdsheep in Colorado, left her nochoice but to carry on. Mybrother too, was gone havingbeen drafted during worldWar II. In addition to takingcare of our home she alsocared for my grandmother

who was bedridden and living in her own home.Chaperito was and still is, rattlesnake country. On one

occasion I saw my mother take a shovel and kill a rattler thathad crawled into the wood box behind the stove in mygrandmother’ s kitchen. Needless to say, I am terrified of anykind of snake.

Not everything was a struggle or unpleasant, there weremany joyful events in the village that brought everyone to-gether. Weddings come to mind and remind me of all thegoodies to eat and people enjoying themselves. The highlightof any wedding ended with a dance in the evening. Someparents took the kids along and I was fortunate to be one ofthem. I remember running around with the rest of the chil-dren until we exhausted ourselves eventually falling asleepon top of the coat-covered benches.

I don’ t expect it will get any easier to travel to Chaperitoin the future. The roads have eroded more and more witheach rainstorm, plus cattle guard gates have pad locks tokeep cattle in and visitors out. Yet, those of us who have fam-ily members buried at the cemetery are entitled to visit.

The Chaperito Town Grant was issued in 1845, and the1860 Census shows a population of 444. The U.S. Post Officewas active there from 1875 to 1957. Most people moved tosearch for work. As the saying goes, “People were land richand money poor.”

My family and I may have moved away from Chaperitoin 1946, but my heart and soul have never left.

—Kim Delgado is a retired state and school employee, whooften writes for the Optic and also wrote for La Herencia. She maybe reached at [email protected] or 425-9677.

Silence From the Past

TThhiiss ttoommbbssttoonnee iinn tthhee CChhaappeerriittoo cceemmeetteerryy mmaarrkkss tthhee ggrraavvee oofftthhee aauutthhoorr’’ss uunnccllee.. IItt iiss aa rreemmiinnddeerr ooff tthhee lliiffee ooff aa ccoommmmuunniittyy tthhaatt aattoonnee ttiimmee ccoonnttaaiinneedd mmoorree tthhaann ffoouurr hhuunnddrreedd ppeeooppllee.. LLiittttllee rreemmaaiinnssooff tthhee vviillllaaggee bbuutt iittss mmeemmoorriieess lliinnggeerr..

COURTESY PHOTO KIM DELGADO

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Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 14

The only daytime television show my motherwatched was The Jack Lalanne Show, attempting tolive the dream of staying trim and fit. She would

banish my brother and me from the room, clear the floor andpull out her high-tech piece of exercise equipment: a kitchenchair. In tank top and pedal pushers,hands on the back of the chair, she’d ac-knowledge to the black and white pic-ture that she was ready, only to be toldhe’d be back after a word from his spon-sors. In the meantime, his instructionswere to stretch a bit and warm up. In-stead there was always some chore shecould take care of during that time.

Here was a housewife and motherwith two small children participating inthe early stirrings of a lifestyle promo-tion that would, over the next several years, take off and be-come a part of people’s lives in ways she could never imagineor understand. As the “Father of Fitness” Jack Lalanneworked on changing the shape of America.

Today popular television has pretty much left Jack be-hind. Syndicated cable programs have taken the place of TheJack Lalanne Show, entertaining us from exotic locations. In-stead of Jack simply teaching us how to exercise, we nowhave a group of men and women showing us how it’s done.Something significant has occurred here—a shift, from“being” to “appearing.” For example, the owner of a healthclub, realizing his clients would pay $100 for a nylon jacketwith the club logo on it, included apparel licensing as a facetof fitness. A club’s directory used to include programs andservices. Today’s culture dictates that it also present a list ofavailable activewear.

If you consider exercise a matter of privacy, everything isavailable from free weights to door gyms, and stowable ma-chines to stair climbers, replete with built in televisions, DVDplayers, and video games. If your cable goes out there are ex-ercise videos available with good looking men and womenfrom just about every walk of life targeting just about anybody part, and if you need more visual support, beefcake orbeautiful model posters are available to remind you that youtoo can look “kind of like” him or her.

The dual identity theme found in many genres of popu-lar culture, such as Superman and his nerdy alter ego ClarkKent, or Batman and the philanthropic Bruce Wayne, is alsopresent in the culture of fitness. For instance, a friend decidesthat he would like to “buff up” his arms, chest and back. Helifts weights religiously to achieve this transformation froman average build to a muscle man. As the “hero” of thisgenre, he’ll take on a new identity with new clothes, a differ-ent outlook, and image of himself. Soon, others will view himdifferently as well. Muscle-bound has become the highestform of fashion and we are bombarded with images ofwhat’s in style.

Gyms also target other aspects of people’s lives, includ-ing the emotional and social. According to writer VanessaFriedman, gyms have joined the workplace, bars, and othergathering spots, as the place to meet and possibly mate. In aForbes article Lisa Gubernick said the creators of co-ed facil-ities realized the “mating” aspect of health clubs provides agood promotional gimmick.

Gyms weren’t always the norm. Years ago, living in ahuge city, the only people I knew were the people withwhom I worked. Looking for a safe place to spend myevenings and meet new people, I joined Vic Tanny’s. Mon-days, Wednesdays, and Fridays were women’s days. Tues-days, Thursdays and Saturdays were reserved for men. I feltcomfortable there and for me, a trend had begun, not onlyfrom an exercise standpoint but a social one as well. Later, Iwas living in a city where, again, I didn’t know many people,and drawing on previous experience, I looked for a gym tojoin. Another Vic Tanny’s became my refuge. It was co-ed, ifyou preferred that, and open seven days a week. I workedout there every evening and before I knew it, I was consid-ered a “regular,” just as though the gym was a bar I droppedinto every evening, and was being approached with lines like“come here often?”

Years later, I joined an all-women’s gym called “BodyBeautiful.” Now, pretty much a veteran on the fitness scene,I noticed for the first time how marketing fitness as a form ofentertainment had become a booming business. At this par-ticular gym, women and their body images were the target.This was evidenced through their advertising. Join our cluband take the first step to attaining the body ‘beautiful.’ Start your

Exercise: Fitness, Fashion and FunWhat do you want out of going to the gym?

It’s probably a mixed bag, including social interaction.

KKaarreenn TTooppppiinngg

HHEEAALLTTHH && FFIITTNNEESSSS

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Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 15

new year right and by bikini season you’ll have that ‘body beauti-ful.’ Buy a new leotard from our shop...show off that ‘body beauti-ful.’ This can be viewed as a way of capitalizing on the factthat women’s images of themselves never seems to measureup.

On the other hand, the health club became a place for so-cial empowerment. Women experienced a sense of cama-raderie and the average woman could indeed become theheroine of this genre. Females of allshapes and sizes lifting weights,chatting, laughing, and supportingeach other. (“Come on you can doit.” “One more rep.” “Good job, youdid it!”) The locker room is filledwith women piling themselves intoeverything from bright, fluorescentleotards to dull, gray sweatsuits.Some check their hair and makeupin the mirrors. Whatever makes youfeel good goes. There’s as much in-teraction here as at a party betweenfriends, and we’re ready to do thistogether.

The mirrors in the gym are, as with many things in pop-ular culture, more complex than one might assume. First,they make the area look larger; second, you can make certainthat you’re performing the moves correctly; third, you caneyeball yourself either approvingly or critically and decidewhere to go from there. Stuart Ewen, in Hard Bodies, con-structs an analogy between health clubs and factories. Just asthe assembly line in a car plant produces a vehicle, the healthclub, with its “imposing assembly line of large, specializedmachines” produces the types of physical specimens thatAmerica values. Mirrors allow the workout devotee to be-come a sort of industrial inspector, “surveying the results ofeach task,” according to the principles of “scientific manage-ment.”

Some fitness clubs use a formula identified by Peter Gib-ian in The Art of Being Off-Center: Shopping Center Spaces andSpectacles. Like shopping malls, the design strategy for theseclubs involves sophisticated cultural engineering. Valet park-ing and marble lobbies lure those who can afford it into a to-tally enclosed protective womb—the Disneyland of healthclubs. Along with the usual equipment, they boast golf balldriving facilities, ski simulators and a forty-five foot high slabof phony granite for practicing rock climbing.

It has been said that people give up on health clubs be-cause exercise is boring. A club owner in New York mixesshowbiz and sweat to make it fun. A live gospel choir in-spires a gospel moves class; there is a hip-hop indoor

Rollerblading class, and a drag queen brandishes a whipwhile teaching underground funk! All these come togetherto provide an unusual combination of entertainment, exerciseand, for the owner, a handsome return on an investment.

Like all pop culture genres, fitness centers—and espe-cially the larger chains—are constructed according to a rigidformula. The layouts are similar and the front desk has a listof classes available to members. People who move from one

location to another often seek outthese chains because of the comfortzone provided by this formula.

In addition to healthy exerciseand social interaction, some partic-ipants receive the additional pleas-ures of exhibitionism or voyeurism:there are those who revel in exercis-ing in front of others and there arethose who like to watch certain par-ticipants and dream. A woman Iknew was dubbed “Gym Diva” be-cause of the clothing she wore andthe way she exercised. There were

men who used to come to the gym just to salivate while theywatched her exercise!

Jack Lalanne delivered information on how to becomemore fit. Ads like Soloflex persuade us through image ratherthan information. We see the Soloflex man’s body alignedwith the Soloflex machine as he turns himself into a “piece ofwork,” as much of a machine as the Soloflex itself. As a spec-imen of technological perfection, he’s there to be looked atand nothing more. His inner well-being is not at issue.

Fitness is available to anyone anywhere. This is good, butthe marketing of this form of popular culture, whether inmagazines or newspapers, television or radio, through theInternet or Infomercials, has progressed from focusing on“being fit” to what Guy Debord called “the society of specta-cle.” We have become concerned less with being fit and morewith images and appearance.

As a wellness consultant and exercise technician con-cerned for people’s health and not much more, I wish Jackwere back.

—Karen Topping has a BA in Health Promotion and Wellnessfrom NMHU and is a certified health and fitness instructor. Shewas a trainer with Northeastern Regional Hospital and with theCity of Las Vegas Recreational Center for several years, and servedas Senior Circle Advisor at Alta Vista Regional Hospital until2009. She continues as the weight training instructor for SeniorCircle and is a former marathon runner, cross country runner andsays she is a “jogger and general gym rat.” Look for more fromKaren in future issues of Happenstance.

Fitness has come a long way since Jack Lalanne

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Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 16

Chapter 2Life’s Little Surprises

They’re all in bed. I cannot believe I got myself into thisdadblamed, cottonpickin’ situation! What in Heaven’sname was I thinking? And if that blighted hound does-

n’t quit his barking I’m going to go out there and shoot him!Lilly fingered her pen, tapping the end on her journal. It

had been a most uncomfortable time before she got them set-tled. She could not for the life of her figure out what to donext. The boys were in Michael’s old room, Annie and Mariein Elizabeth’s.

She’d never done much to either bedroom except dustand vacuum. Not because she expected Harve’s children tocome back some day, but because she had no other use forthe space. She should probably get rid of the house and usethe money to have a riproaring good old time. Something, tobe honest about it, she wasn’t too good at.

After the disaster with the dog she’d forced herself, andyes, she’d had to force herself, to go into the living room andmake nice, something else she’d never been toogood at, not exactly a desirable trait in apreacher’s wife.

She recalled the stilted exchange with exas-peration.

“So, can I get anything for you? Something toeat or drink?” she asked.

“Oh, no, no, we’ve been too much trouble al-ready,” Annie said. That’s when the dog hadstarted barking and he hadn’t stopped since. “Westopped at a McDonald’s before we got here.”

Annie had looked like somebody wakingfrom a mid-afternoon nap, confused and shaky. Not at all likethe determined child Lilly remembered.

What happened to that defiant little girl? Is the woman alwaysso hesitant? It’s a wonder she’s been able to raise her children.Maybe I was too harsh with Elizabeth and Michael., Harve thoughtso, but if you don’t stand your ground with little ones, they flatouttake over. Just look at that wisenheimer Caleb! Smartmouth, rudekid if ever there was one. That little girl’s cute enough and brightas a brass button, maybe a little too smart for her own good. Theother one, Allen? No, not that, Archer? No. Something military.

She wasn’t going into the kitchen at this time of night tolook at her cheat sheet. For one thing it sounded like the dogwas losing energy. She didn’t want to do anything to get himriled up again.

Allison? No, that’s more a girl’s name. Alexander. That’s it,Alexander, but they call him Alex. Although so far nobody hadcalled him anything, and other than saying “Cool,” when the dogpeed on the rug, he hadn’t said much at all. I can live with that.

Two wisenheimers are quite enough.Caleb was a good-looking boy, or would be if he

trimmed his hair and got that glower off his face. He, like theother two, was dressed rather shabbily but that could befashion. Lilly hadn’t a clue why young people dressed likethey’d been shopping in a garbage dump but that’s the wayof it nowadays.

That Marie, now her you’d have to watch out for; shewas quick as a minute and smart with it. She looked exactlylike Milly as a child.

At four (and three months she was informed by Marie)Alex was a quiet boy much given to hiding his face in hismother’s body: behind her leg, in her coat, curled at her feet.

Lilly didn’t know much but she knew this family camewith a lot of baggage. Annie seemed beaten down by life, ormaybe she was just tired and who wouldn’t be after drivingthree youngsters from… well, wherever they were from.

It was obvious she genuinely loved her children, andwas loved in return. The little ones stayed right with her, and

Caleb seemed always to have his eyes on her,ready to step in at any second to hold her up.

It was Caleb who had taken control ofbringing the evening to a halt. “Mrs. Irish, if it’sokay, we’d like to go to bed.” She was gladenough to see the back of them.

What am I to do tomorrow? They’ll be up andprobably hungry. I’ve plenty of food but have no de-sire to whip up breakfast and find out no one wantsto eat it!

Lilly huffed and twitched her nose think-ing of her spoiled dinner. “McDonald’s!” she

muttered.Okay, I’m being foolish, but I worked hard on that dinner. Of

course, it’s not really spoiled. The meatloaf can be heated and so canthe potatoes and veggies. The salad won’t survive too well, but it’lldo. It’s not like everything will go to waste.

Maybe I’d better do something different for breakfast, not justeggs and cereal. When Elizabeth and Michael were little they likedFrench toast with homemade syrup. I’ll try that out on them. If theydon’t like it, what the heck, I do!

A knock on her door startled her. Despite the fact she’dbeen working out how to solve the problem of breakfast forher guests she’d somehow forgotten she wasn’t alone in thehouse.

“Yes, just a minute!” Lilly put the journal in her night-stand and closed the drawer firmly. She slipped a robe overher flannel gown. “Who is it?”

“Marie, Mrs., can I come in?— CONTINUED ON PAGE 17 —

TTHHEE RREEAADDIINNGG RROOOOMM

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Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 17

Lilly hurried to the door and swung it open a couple ofinches looking down into the angelic face that was both for-eign and achingly familiar.

“What on this earth are you doing up?”“I’m scared.”Lilly pushed her glasses up with her index finger and

twitched her nose. “Nonsense, there’s not a thing to be scared about. You

get yourself to bed.”“Mama’s crying.”Lilly’s stomach turned over. She opened the door wider

and the girl slipped through.“Marie?” Annie’s tremulous voice preceded her down

the hall. When the light from Lilly’s bedroom caught her faceAnnie blinked her red swollen eyes and cringed.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Irish. She told me she was going to thebathroom, I didn’t mean for her to disturb you.”

“That’s all right.” Mrs. Irish. They all called her that, only when they’d first

arrived had Annie called her Aunt Lilly. “No, it isn’t. We’re imposing on you and…” Silent tears

streamed down Annie’s cheeksLilly hadn’t been a preacher’s wife for nothing, albeit a

pretty lousy one. “Come in and sit down. Let me get you some water.”“No, I…”“Sit. Marie and I will get you a glass of water while you

compose yourself.” Sometimes straight talk was the bestthing. Coddling people with sweet words just made themfeel worse, or at least it did her.

“Come, child, let’s allow your mother a moment.”Marie looked searchingly at her mother then took Lilly’s

hand. “Yes’m.”As she feared, the moment she walked into the kitchen

and turned the lights on the dog began to howl and bark.“Be QUIET Krank!” Marie commanded in a surprisingly

powerful voice for such a little thing.The noise ceased immediately.Lilly stared at the child. “Why didn’t you do that earlier,

when he was carrying on so?”Marie shrugged. “Sometimes it works, sometimes it

don’t.”A testament to life, Lilly thought.“Would you like water, too?”“Sometimes I pee the bed.”“Oh, well then.” Lilly cleared her throat at a loss for what

to say to this forward and bright replica of her sister.“My Daddy’s dead.”“Oh, Marie, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”“I think he got runned over by a truck.”Lilly choked on a combination of surprise and dismay.“Marie.” The boy was in the same clothes he’d had on

earlier. If he’d slept it wasn’t evident. By the set of his mouth

she could tell he was angry.“Get to bed. Mom is in there wait-ing for you.”

Marie dropped her head and toed the hardwood. “I did-n’t mean nothing.”

“I didn’t say you did, but it’s time you were in bed.” “G’nite, Mrs.” Marie scurried away, her slapping bare

feet going silent when she went from the hardwood flooronto the carpet in the hallway.

“He isn’t dead, we just don’t know where he is,” Calebsaid and took the water from Lilly’s nerveless fingers. “Andwe don’t care.” He turned and followed Marie.

“What in this world have I gotten myself into,” Lillythought. “What in this world.”

Chapter 3A New Day

Lilly was frantic. She had overslept and was frettingabout breakfast for her guests the whole time shewas in the shower and getting dressed. She need-

n’t have worried. Annie was at the stove scrambling eggswhen she entered the kitchen. Marie was chattering, Alexwas barely awake and Caleb was looking disgruntled. It wasas if the tears and nocturnal wanderings of the night beforehad never happened.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Annie said. “I don’t want youto think we expect you to wait on us. We can do for ourselves.Right kids?”

The “kids” were gathered around the kitchen table andhad gone silent the second Lilly walked in. Caleb was thefirst to speak.

“I was rude to you last night. I am sorry.”Lilly noted that he’d cleaned up a little but he still wore

the garbage dump garb from the previous day. “You were tired; we all were.” It was the best she could

do in the way of forgiveness. She was sure his mother hadforced him to make the apology.

“Would you like eggs?” Annie asked.“Thank you, but, no, I’m late for work.”“She looks too old to work.” It was the first fully formed

sentence Alex had voiced and after a startled moment Lillysmiled tightly.

“I feel too old, by golly, but off to work it is.” She turnedto Annie trying hard not to show how nervous it made her toleave these strangers alone in her house. It would only be forfive hours, the length of her shift, but a lot of bad things couldhappen in five hours. “You don’t mind, do you? I tried tochange my schedule so I could help you get settled in (andestablish a few house rules), but…”

“We’ll be fine,” Annie said. “Won’t we?” She cast aglance at her three children.

— CONTINUED ON PAGE 18 —

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Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 18

Lilly didn’t expect a response from the silent audienceand wasn’t surprised when none was forthcoming.

“Well, I’ll be on my way. I can’t take calls at the store un-less it’s an emergency, but I’ll write the number down in caseyou need to reach me.”

When she went to get a piece of paper from the pad bythe phone, she saw the note she’d written to herself about thenames of the children and their ages. For no reason she couldthink of, heat rose up her neck.

Why, I can leave notes to myself all over the place and itwouldn’t be anybody’s business!

Still she felt uncomfortable that other people could lookat the orderliness of her life and find something about it tocriticize. She stuffed the page in the pocket of her ShopMartsmock, and then wrote down the store number hoping Anniewasn’t the type to think everything was an emergency.

“Don’t you got a cell phone?” Marie asked. “We haddacell phone but we couldn’t pay the bill.”

Annie closed her eyes and shook her head, not in denial,Lilly thought, but in resignation.

Lilly pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Well, child, itis a consideration, but I don’t have a cell phone because Idon’t want one. Never could see the use of the doggonethings.”

Marie looked ready to say something else but Calebleaned over and whispered something in her ear.

“Momma, Caleb called me a baby!”“I did not! I said quit acting like a baby.”Alex started to whine.“Okay, kids, enough.” Annie’s words were spoken softly

but the children immediately lapsed into silence. She smiledat Lilly, a sweet curve of her lips that helped to relieve thelook of wariness imprinted there.

“Thanks for leaving me the number. I’m sure we’ll befine and we will be careful of your home.”

Lilly felt as though the young woman had sensed herconcerns. It did not relieve her one whit. She nodded andopened the door to the garage to be greeted by a boundingbehemoth. He whipped past her and into the house pro-pelling everyone else into motion.

“Krank!” Caleb shouted running after him.“Get him!” Annie cried, her attention torn between the

pan of scrambled eggs on the electric burner and the chaospopping up all around her. Marie was on Caleb’s heelsyelling, “Come here, boy,” at the top of her lungs. Alexstarted to cry.

In a dither about what to do Lilly wavered in the door-way wanting to protect her home from the crazy animal gal-loping through it and the need to get to work on time.ShopMart wasn’t a forgiving employer and in a small townthere were lots of people waiting for the next job opening.

“I have to go,” she said, sounding apologetic even to herown ears. What she should have said is, “This place betterbe clean and in one piece when I get home!”

Lilly stepped into the garage pawing through her pursefor her car keys, her nose twitching madly. She sneezed.What in this world? She flipped on the light and yelped. Thesound of running feet came from the kitchen and in secondsAnnie was behind her in the doorway.

“Oh, my,” Annie said. “Oh, my, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”The garage was a shambles. The dog had overturned the

rollout garbage can and scattered its contents, eating any-thing edible and sicking up what couldn’t be digested. Hehad then turned his attention to storage boxes, worryingthem open and taking out whatever was inside. Elizabeth’sBarbie doll collection that nobody had looked at in years wasscattered from hell and gone. Several of Michael’s Transform-ers lay in pieces and Match Box cars were strewn across thefloor along with strips of track. Clothing she had been intend-ing to take to the Salvation Army was everywhere. How thedanged dog had done it without waking the entire house-hold was a mystery. Maybe that barking was an almighty dis-traction to cover his crimes!

Lilly closed her eyes tightly and opened them slowly.Still there. This nightmare was just beginning. Without aword she walked to her car, stepping over a pile of dog you-know-what on the way. She opened the door, closed it withdeliberate care, put her key in the ignition, pressed the re-mote garage opener, backed out and danged near hit a sportyand altogether unexpected older model Mustang blockingthe driveway.

In the rearview mirror she saw Annie run behind her,hop in the car and back the Mustang out of her way. Anniegave a feeble wave as Lilly roared past in reverse, jerked to atire-screeching stop, put the car in drive and took off peelingrubber all the way to the stop sign where her squealingbrakes drew the attention of Luke Southern, who was gettingin his car. She ignored his wave as heat flooded her cheeks.

Next month: Chapter 4, On the Job Chapter 5, Where am I?

Tiger Lilly, by F.S. Vander Meer, is availableon CD as a digital file.

To read the first chapter go towww.vandermeerbooks.com/happenstanceClick on the PDF of the October issue.

Page 19: Happenstance, life happens

Happenstance • November 1, 2010 • Page 19

Continued from Page 8—

“People would say to my mom, ‘Imade it by your recipe, but it didn’tcome out the same.’ She would askthem if they liked to cook and theywould say, ‘I hate to cook!’ Her re-sponse to that was, ‘If you don’t love tocook you can’t make a recipe work.’”

Lucy’s love for cooking and hergenerosity are attributes that drew peo-ple to her. “She loved to prepare foodfor her family and friends,” Carolinesaid. “She would make enough so therewas plenty to serve her family withenough left over to give away. She’s theone who taught me it’s as easy to maketwo pies as one, four pies as two. That

way you have enough to share.”Caroline said she would like Lucy

to be remembered for her resilience.“People remember her as being

generous and charismatic, and she was,but she also had amazing strength. Shehad a hard time growing up. She wasorphaned very young and her child-hood and youth were challenging. Youwouldn’t know any of that to be aroundher. She was not bitter, she overcameobstacles, and she never complained.”

Caroline is married to Lucy’s son,attorney Jesus Lopez. They have oneson and two grandchildren, JesusDavid and Nevee. She returned to theworkforce full time as the children’s li-brarian at Carnegie Library in Las

Vegas after about five years of retire-ment, and is a member of the West LasVegas Schools Board of Education.

Loretta continues to work at PNMin Las Vegas, and is developing a cook-book that includes Lopez family recipeswith a focus on Mama Lucy’s special-ties.

Included with this article are tworecipes Mama Lucy is known for. Bisco-chitos are a Christmas must in North-ern New Mexico and Pecan Pie is aThanksgiving tradition in many house-holds.

Editor’s note: The Lopez family is re-lated to the Happenstance editor and authorof this article.

Mama Lucy

HeroContinued from Page 12—

I understand that being my owninspiration—my own hero—is whatgets me up each and every morning re-gardless of what hurts. It’s always eas-ier to pull the covers over your head,and hope for a better pain free day.When you are your own hero, pullingthe covers over your head simply isn’tan option.

The next time someone commendsme on how inspirational I am, or thanksme for exhibiting what they perceive ascourageous behavior, I will simply say“You’re welcome,” and truly mean it.

—Cindy Charlton is a single momwith two active teenage sons. She serves onthe Board of Advisors for the SouthwestYMCA and is a member of the Colorado

Coalition of Working Amputees, (CCWA).She helped pass Colorado’s ‘Prosthetic Par-ity Bill (HB1478),’ in 2000, and is workingwith the CCWA to pass the bill on a na-tional level. Cindy is a certified Peer Coun-selor, helping people adjust to living withlimb loss. She is a published columnist forinMotion magazine, has just finished writ-ing her first children’s book, and is workingon her memoirs.

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Page 20: Happenstance, life happens

No, no, I’mSURE it’s

Halloween.