A Walk Through the Salmon Ruins...and a Late-Night Sidetrip to McDonald's

FARMINGTON, NM--We are in Farmington tonight on our way to southwestern Utah. Tomorrow we're passing through Kayenta and Monument Valley. We are staying at the Encore Motel (!) which has high-speed internet in the large rooms. Total cost including taxes: $45.

We stopped at the Salmon Ruins near Bloomfield earlier in the day. It was one of those sites I had heard of, but never really had enough interest to do any kind of research. Well, today we stopped. Incidentally, it is named after an early settler, not the fish.

It was a beautiful site...and it fit in very nicely with a couple of places we had already been, Chaco Canyon and Paquime (near Casas Grandes in Mexico). They all share the same time frame. They also share the Chacoan era's fascination with craftsmanship and imagination when it comes to building. The Salmon Ruins are of stone. The walls have beautiful stone work on the two outward faces and a rubble center. They date roughly from about 1100.

There apparently was a fire at about that time in the "Tower" kiva in which about 40 people died, including a lot of children. Archeologists say that there was another fire in the kiva as well, when the corpses were burned in a funeral pyre. The pueblo was abandoned shortly thereafter.

This is considered to be a Chaco "Outlier" because it appears to be related to that site. After the pueblo was abandoned, Mesa Verdeans moved in for about 50 years. Then they left as well. The Navajo eventually moved into the area but did not occupy the large Salmon site. They did leave it alone...calling the builders "anasazi"...the ancient ones.

Much has been made of the disappearance of the inhabitants...just like the disappearance of the Chacoans. Consider this for a moment: the wonderful planning and workmanship of the structures seem to say that this was more than just building shelter. They took work itself seriously. It was probably something they were known for as far south as Mexico.

It seems internal strife visited all the Chacoan sites. I think the presence of many, many kivas in the same village points to that. Even cannabalism has been documented at Chaco Canyon. At any rate, I believe the leaders decided that they needed a new project...a new focus. They had already built these beautiful, large structures. They had already built roads. Now, with free time on their hands, fighting and arguing broke out. They needed something big to bring them back together. At least it is possible...IMHO.

Later in the evening, the Beautiful GF and I stopped at the only place we could find that was open and might serve a decent cup of coffee: McDonald's. After all, they have been advertising a "richer, bolder, more robust" cuppa joe. Actually, the coffee wasn't bad. But what really attracted our attention was the back of the sheet that lines the tray. Yes, the feared Nutrition Information!

The bottom of the sheet has, in large type, a note from Bob Greene, Oprah's Personal Trainer and Exercise Physiologist. "McDonald's truly cares about you and your well-being." He says that is why he is proud to be involved with them.

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the crowded part of the page...we find the following numbers attached to the McD's Big Breakfast: 730 calories, 46 grams of fat (that's 71% of one's daily allowance), and 1470 mg of sodium (which represents 61% of daily value). It is the fat figure that stands out. 71% of your recommended daily fat intake and we just finished breakfast!

The french fries also call attention to themselves. not only will one large serving give you 47% of your daily fat, but they credit it with having 7 grams of fiber. Fiber? Seven grams of fiber? In fried potatoes? As I recall, that's more fiber than you get in whole wheat bread. Hard to believe.

One last comment...this time on their salad dressings. They serve "Newman's Own Salad Dressings." Compare these two: Creamy Caesar Dressing has 190 calories and 18 grams of fat, the Low Fat Balsamic Dressing has 40 calories and 3 grams of fat. So it pays to give some attention to what package of dressing you get.

Be healthy, and see you somewhere the other side of Kayenta.

Johnny_Mango's Sunday Wallpaper: Blogger Boy

NOB HILL--The Beautiful MaryAnn took this shot in her elementary classroom as some of her kids dealt with the ups and downs of living through miniaturizing its details. Maybe I do the same thing by putting it all on the screen. :-)For best results, click on the picture to enlarge before setting as desktop background.

The Sunday Poem: Connie Wanek's RADIATOR

American Life in Poetry: Column 052

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE

What a marvelous gift is the imagination, and each of us gets one at birth, free of charge and ready to start up, get on, and ride away. Can there be anything quite so homely and ordinary as a steam radiator? And yet, here, Connie Wanek, of Duluth, Minnesota, nudges one into play.

Radiator

Mittens are drying on the radiator,
boots nearby, one on its side.
Like some monstrous segmented insect
the radiator elongates under the window.

Or it is a beast with many shoulders
domesticated in the Ice Age.
How many years it takes
to move from room to room!

Some cage their radiators
but this is unnecessary
as they have little desire to escape.

Like turtles they are quite self-contained.
If they seem sad, it is only the same sadness
we all feel, unlovely, growing slowly cold.

Reprinted from "Bonfire," New Rivers Press, 1997, by permission of the author. Copyright © 1997 by Connie Wanek. Her most recent book is "Hartley Field," from Holy Cow! Press. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress, and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.

Ushasti: Little Gallery, Big Art...And Tips On Being An Art-Opening Tomcat

NOB HILL--That excitement on Central Ave. last night was the opening of "Art & Spirit" at the Ushasti Gallery. The show featured about a dozen artists. The gallery is small and ordinarily I get a claustrophobic feeling in such situations. But this small gallery had such a wonderful collection of artwork that I sort of got lost in the pieces and wandered mentally for a good part of the evening. And when I finally did get winded in spirit, it was a beautiful evening out on Central.

Then again, half the fun is looking at the people. I often try to match artists with their art. In that spirit I went up to a couple of guys that looked like they might not have too much in common except maybe the creative spirit.

• Guess which one was from Connecticut.
• Guess which one was named 'Troy.'
• Guess which one had nothing in the show.

Well, I missed on all three. But it didn't matter. For those of you new to the art opening scene, if you feel like talking to that good-looking stranger next to you but don't know a damn thing about art try inserting the following phrases between long sips of free wine.

• nuanced palette
• conceptually accurate
• definitely has a beginning, middle, and an end

But nothing beats the whispered, "It touches my heart."

I may not know much about art, but a painting sure brings out the Johnny_Mango in me.

This is not to diminish anything in the show! I loved it! It is just to say, "Don't worry about talking about art." Just remember, YOU are welcome at any art opening. Just walk in, help yourself to a snack and beverage, and browse. Really. And this small gallery might be a good place to wander into. It is right next to Absolutely Neon in Upper Nob Hill.

One art-opening story from Santa Fe: In 1971 a friend of mine named Bruce wandered through Santa Fe. He was from Milwaukee and wore a cowboy hat. Anyway, we ended up at an opening on Canyon Road one afternoon. I guess I should say we had been drinking. At any rate, later in the day I asked him how he had liked the show.

"Oh," he said, "the art was great! The tamales were a little tough..."

I should probably tell you at this point that the man-of-fringe in the above picture was named Troy and lives in Connecticut. He did not have anything in the show.

And my friend Bruce...well, it seems he had eaten the corn husks.

Dixie Chicks Are 'Not Ready To Make Nice'

USA--Buzzflash (over on the sidebar) has (or had) a link to the Dixie Chicks website. On their latest album they have a song addressed specifically to those who called them names and even threatened their lives when they dared to differ with fellow-Texan G.W. Bush. They are unapologetic. The first song on the album is entitled, Not Ready To Make Nice. You get to hear the song FREE and read the lyrics at the same time.

China to Tax Chopsticks...Save Trees

CHINA--The Times Online reports that China, in order to conserve trees, is about to start taxing chopsticks. It seems a little extreme...except for the fact that China goes through 15 billion pairs of throw-away chopsticks per year. That equals 2 million cubic meters of wood or 10 million trees!

Legend has it that chopsticks were invented 4,000 years ago by Yu the Great, when he dipped two twigs into hot broth to take meat from a pot. The Times article includes an interesting history of chopsticks.

Shack-Up on Central Avenue

NOB HILL--We were so optimistic as we sat in the Flying Star across the street from the new Bumble Bee's Baja Grill on Central. Finally that waste of space on the corner was getting a facelift. We watched as openings were cut into the front of the building. They were big enough for garage doors which, we guessed, meant outdoor dining during the summer.

But what a rude surprise unfolded as the work proceeded. They took a buttoned-up, boring office building and turned it into the largest seafront shack imaginable. It was if Southwest Airlines kicked their colors up a notch and decided they needed an outlet warehouse for seaplanes.

What were the owners thinking? What were the architects thinking? Maybe a small brightly painted shack would dazzle the eye with its cuteness and incongruity, but this is the biggest building on the block!

Put this blast of condiment red and yellow in the proximity of Kurt's Camera Corral's parade of awning paint and it is a true stunner. Look at that poor neon scotty...still aglow but losing in the battle for attention.

We, the Coffee Sipping Street Superintendents, also noticed at discernable lack of craftsmanship in the execution of this funky memorial to cannery row. Then again, maybe

1. uneven awnings,
2. wavy sheets of corrigated metal,
3. and lopsided light fixtures

are part of the look they are after. Very well. They have managed to dress down a shack.

Today's Post on the Duke City Fix

NOB HILL--It turns out that many visitors to Albloggerque don't know that I also do a weekly post for the Duke City Fix. So I thought I would start linking to these stories just in case anybody wants to read them.

Today on The Fix I wrote about sighting the RailRunner in the south valley. It has a list of FAQ's about the whole rail thing. It is supposed to be funny.

Johnny_Mango's Sunday Wallpaper: Stunning Ken Saville Assemblage

DOWNTOWN--Part of his retrospective show, this piece entitled "Some Things Have To Do," shows some of the playfulness of Saville's work. Another theme, recycled materials used for both their visual function as well as their intellectual nuance, form the basis of this piece.

Ken says that the paint-stained spoons which help outline the face of the larger figure once were used by fellow artist Michael Hart. Hart used to steal spoons out of the Frontier Restaurant for mixing paint. Ken, it seems, picked them up out of the trash.

This piece and more of Ken's work is showing at Artspace 116, above Tucano's Restaurant downtown. It hangs until April 28th.

The Sunday Poem: Jim Harrison, Author of Legends of the Fall...Wow!

Jim Harrison once said, "I'm a poet and we tend to err on the side that life is more than it appears rather than less."

American Life in Poetry: Column 051

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE

Walt Whitman's poems took in the world through a wide-angle lens, including nearly everything, but most later poets have focused much more narrowly. Here the poet and novelist Jim Harrison nods to Whitman with a sweeping, inclusive poem about the course of life.

Marching

At dawn I heard among bird calls
the billions of marching feet in the churn
and squeak of gravel, even tiny feet
still wet from the mother's amniotic fluid,
and very old halting feet, the feet
of the very light and very heavy, all marching
but not together, criss-crossing at every angle
with sincere attempts not to touch, not to bump
into each other, walking in the doors of houses
and out the back door forty years later, finally
knowing that time collapses on a single
plateau where they were all their lives,
knowing that time stops when the heart stops
as they walk off the earth into the night air.

"Marching," from Jim Harrison's "Saving Daylight" (2006) is reprinted by permission of Copper Cayon Press This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress, and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.

APS Superintendent Beth Everitt...Slipping to the Canvas

NOB HILL--Mayor Martin Chavez is trying to leverage his political power into the APS boardroom. Actually, who could blame him? What makes it so painful to watch is how utterly defenseless Superintendent Elizabeth Everitt has shown herself to be. It is like watching a boxer getting pummeled into the dust without throwing any punch at all...without even raising a hand to ward off blows...without even a groan of pain. She is slipping to the canvas as if she wanted to go to sleep all along.

Talk about a power vacuum! Where is that woman? Locked in her office? (I would have said "ivory tower" but her academic credentials don't lend themselves to that analogy). And how did this miscast sphinx of the desert end up as Trail Boss of this spread with its hundreds of thousands of people (both staff and students), and its hundreds of millions of dollars?

Let's start several years ago with the Board of Education. They hired Bradford Allison as Superintendent. He was an "out of towner," brought in because he had sold the Board a solution to a problem they didn't know they had: a failing system. Now APS might have been boring, but it certainly wasn't failing. At any rate, it was a plot straight out of the Music Man...complete with a metaphoric "pool table," the old Central Office.

Now after Dr. Allison sold them the disease, he sold them the cure. The problem as he saw it was too many teachers out there teaching what they thought their particular students needed. His solution was to centralize all instruction under the banner of "Standards-Based" education. Sounds great. Who could be against standards? There were two problems:

• Standards-based education offers very little to students at either the top or bottom of the academic ladder. It is really best only for "standard" students. (And now we are hearing of kids dropping out of school from boredom).

• What he really was interested in was power...centralized power...arrogant unchecked power. Ask anybody. There were half a dozen lawsuits filed against him for what amounted to abuse of power...such as indiscriminate firings and demotions. And further proof of the fear he engendered among his subordinates is the fact that not one of them voiced any opposition to buying the $12.5 million "Taj Majal" next to Coronado Center. Add in an additional $5 million for remodelling and we are in the neighborhood of Serious Money for a district that can't afford to build its own schools.

Now the first thing a "hired gun" superintendent does is fire the next level of bureaucrats. He doesn't want anybody taking potshots at him. He then brings on "his own people." In this case, he hired three people whom he didn't have to worry about in terms of their having any credibility with the rest of APS: Beth Everitt and the 2 Vigils, Michael and Joe.

After Allison was fired, that is what we were left with. Joe died in a car accident while "looking for a party" in the Moriarty area. Michael was arrested for DWI. Beth was appointed Superintendent.

Allison brought her into the top levels of management because she would do what he told her, not because she had the cajones to run a school district. She was an elementary school counselor who got a Ph.D. She was minimally qualified to be Allison's assistant. Now she is the Superintendent.

As I see it, her position requires that she succeed in four areas: Child advocate, educational leader, politician, fund raiser. Unfortunately, her tenure shows a real lack of success in any of these areas.

Take child advocacy...if children on the west side need a school it is the superintendents DUTY to tell the larger community the truth and fight to make it happen. Instead, she and the Board of Education opted to not ask the voters...they went to the legislature for an easier way out and were rebuffed. The legislature said they needed to raise their own money.

Take educational leadership...we are directionless except for an emphasis on those ridiculous tests. We don't even get an explanation of whether they measure anything important or not. The mayor's beef is that APS has too many kids dropping out of school. The Superintendent worries about meeting rising test score requirements. They should be talking about the same thing.

Take political leadership...Beth Everitt can't even lead this Board of Education anyplace, much less the lawmakers in Santa Fe. And now the Mayor of Albuquerque wants a piece of the turf. What is she waiting for? A rescue wagon? Stand up and fight! Don't the children of this city deserve as much?

Okay, take fund-raising...Forget the legislature for a moment. Look at the victory margin for the last APS bond issue: it passed about 80% to 20%. Why the hell didn't we try to pass enough money to pay for at least some of what was so obviously needed? The support was there.

The last point of this long-winded rant is that the Board of Education continues to act as if nothing is wrong. Oh, they have their little projects...like putting KANW out of business...but refuse to act like they care about children at all. It is almost as if they were still too stunned by their failures in the Brad Allison era to do anything today. Well, wake up and smell the coffee. That knock on the door isn't pizza delivery, it's the Big Bad Mayor.

Note: I sent a copy of this post to every member of the Board of Education. I hope to hear back from them and will certainly publish any responses I receive. If you, dear reader, wish to communicate with them directly their e-mail address is boarded@aps.edu.

Chronic Pain. Blue Wheelbarrow. Where's Dennis?

NOB HILL--The blue wheelbarrow was all alone...sitting next to the Starbucks at Tulane and Central. I looked at the Route 66 stickers on the side of it...the safety vest...the harness...the flags and bungee cords. Yes, it was time to find the owner.

A man stood on the opposite side of the building. His hat and vest seemed to be decorated in the same DIY magic-marker block letters as the stuff on top of the wheelbarrow. It spelled WALKING.

"Is that your wheelbarrow?" I asked.
"Yep."

Dennis Kinch is walking Route 66--the whole thing--from the Chicago Art Institute on Michigan Ave. to the Santa Monica Pier in Los Angeles. He is the national spokesperson for the National Pain Foundation. He is doing this to raise awareness about treatment options and pain information for both patients and doctors. I personally do not live with chronic pain, but there are plenty of people who do. Dennis stops at hospitals along the way to talk to everybody concerned with this huge problem.

Dennis Kinch has chronic pain of his own, in his legs and back. This makes using a conventional backpack out of the question. Instead he carries his gear in a two-wheeled wheelbarrow he pulls backwards with a special harness attached where the handles are. There is sort of a padded waistband with a strap that goes over one shoulder. He demonstrated putting it on. Also, he has fashioned a few adjustments for going uphill and down. When that wheelbarrow is balanced just right, it is almost weightless...you just have to pull it.

He has some trip support, including a website maintained and updated by a volunteer in Chicago. It is called "Where's Dennis?" You can follow his day-to-day adventures.

Living with pain has a few tricks. Dennis Kinch knows many of them, as this walk demonstrates. His basic message is that help is out there, and you can do more than you think.

Chronic pain is one of those "invisible" illnesses. And sometimes nobody even believes you have it. It eventually cost Dennis his wife, job, kids, and left him homeless on the streets of Boston. Ironically, it was his homelessness that opened the gates of the health system to his getting help.

Tonight Dennis said he is staying somewhere near Old Town. His website states he has walked almost 1400 miles so far with about 900 still to go.

"You didn't happen across 30 or 40 Indians running east did you?"
"No...no I didn't."

Good Luck Dennis Kinch. And in honor of St. Patrick's Day:

“May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.”

The Standard Diner...Art Deco Served With a Purple Onion

EAST DOWNTOWN--The Standard Diner had been open for about 8 days. That meant to the Beautiful MaryAnn and me it was a perfect candidate for Sunday dinner. Furthermore, we had heard two comments from friends about the place that seemed to be irreconcilable: one person said the prices were comparable to The Flying Star and the other said it was outrageously expensive, citing that a steak and fries cost about $23.

The place was about half full...not too bad for a Sunday night around 6:30, especially considering that the wind was howling outside in the street. The prices? Well, they do have a $23 steak and fries. They also have a couple of pages of salads, appetizers, and sandwiches under $10. And the food was excellent.

The Beautiful Girlfriend had a Cobb sandwich. I had the home-made veggie burger. Both were delish...although I would advise a dose of Beano if ordering the veggie-burger. MaryAnn's sandwich was so big she ended up taking most of it with us. It also came with vegetable sticks and a purple pickled onion. I loved that onion.

We were so full we had to forego dessert, but I hear the ice-box chocolate cake is worth coming back for. Anyway, one of the attractions about the place is the decor, and that is definitely worth seeing again. Yes...art deco. But expensive looking art deco. It reminded me of an old-style skyscraper lobby...or maybe a luxury streamliner. I half expected to see Diamond Jim Brady slurping down Oysters Rockefeller.

They seem to serve a lot of wine, expensive wine. I like that. Expensive wine usually means they don't have to pay all the rent with the food menu. And No, I don't drink. As it was, plenty of food, coffee, no dessert, 2 people: less than $20. And, don't forget, a little box of food balancing on the dashboard for tomorrow's lunch.

Johnny_Mango's Sunday Wallpaper: That Hawk Above Me

SOUTH VALLEY--I can't get that hawk out of my mind. I think I have always loved birds, and this raptor knows it. Look how he struts his stuff in front of me. How beautiful. How free from "the surly bonds of earth."For best results, click on picture to enlarge before setting as desktop background.

The Sunday Poem: Grace Bauer Refuses to Weed 'n' Feed Her Lawn

American Life in Poetry: Column 050

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE

Thousands of Americans fret over the appearance of their lawns, spraying, aerating, grooming, but here Grace Bauer finds good reasons to resist the impulse to tame what's wild: the white of clover blossoms under a streetlight, the possibility of finding the hidden, lucky, four-leafed rarity.

Against Lawn

The midnight streetlight illuminating
the white of clover assures me

I am right not to manicure
my patch of grass into a dull

carpet of uniform green, but
to allow whatever will to take over.

Somewhere in that lace lies luck,
though I may never swoop down

to find it. Three, too, is
an auspicious number. And this seeing

a reminder to avoid too much taming
of what, even here, wants to be wild.

Reprinted from the literary journal, "Lake Effect," Volume 8, Spring 2004 by permission of the author. Copyright © 2004 by Grace Bauer, whose new book, "Beholding Eye," is forthcoming from Wordtech Communications in 2006. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress, and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.

The Wild Side of the Rio

SOUTH VALLEY--Bob Evans and I took a ride on the wild side yesterday. We rode our mountain bikes down the WEST side of the Rio Grande, crossing the river and heading south at Rio Bravo Blvd. We started on the levee and ended up on one of those trails that winds through the cottonwoods down to the river itself.

We found an isolated beach that looked like someone had taken their child down there to play in the sand and water. The background of ducks, geese, and cranes made it seem more exotic than just across the river from those south valley junkyards.

We did run into a lot of loose sand and silt on top of the levee road. It was also everywhere we went in order to escape the stuff. It was extremely difficult to ride in. In fact, I planted myself in the soft powder at one point. I didn't get hurt, but looking back at the hand prints I left in the dry silt I was pretty embarrassed...and a little too flustered to get a picture of it.

We did see this beautiful bird. Is it a red-tailed hawk? I don't know. There are sure lots of hawks and eagles along the river these days. And more easily accessible places from which to view them...even on a bike.

Johnny_Mango's Sunday Wallpaper: Fast Break

THE PIT--I love those Lobos! Here Katie Montgomery looks like she is getting ready to pass downcourt in this game against Colorado State. Also running with her are (top to bottom) Abbie Letz, Dionne Marsh, and Jana Francis.For best results, click on picture to enlarge before setting as desktop background.

The Sunday Poem: Boys & Sheep-Killing Dogs...Rodney Torreson

American Life in Poetry: Column 049
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE

This fine poem by Rodney Torreson, of Grand Rapids, Michigan, looks into the world of boys arriving at the edge of manhood, and compares their natural wildness to that of dogs, with whom they feel a kinship.

On A Moonstruck Gravel Road

The sheep-killing dogs saunter home,
wool scraps in their teeth.

From the den of the moon
ancestral wolves
howl their approval.

The farm boys, asleep in their beds,
live the same wildness under their lids;
every morning they come back
through the whites of their eyes
to do their chores, their hands pausing
to pet the dog, to press
its ears back, over the skull,
to quiet that other world.

From "A Breathable Light," New Issues Poetry and Prose, 2002, and first published in Sou'wester. Copyright 7COPY; 2002 by Rodney Torreson and reprinted by permission of the author. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress, and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.

The Steel Bones off Cabezon Road

CABEZON PEAK RD.--At first we almost overlooked it. The rusted metal did not stand out from the rest of the debris near the corral, including the large shell of a moving van, minus the truck, which served as a pump and bunk house.


But it was such a large piece of junk that eventually The Artist Ken Saville and I wandered over and looked more closely. We were looking at the remains of two mobile homes...just the chassis, actually. What the heck were they doing here? And the big question: Did somebody dump these skeletons here to get rid of them? Or is there another story?


There was only one thing I could think of that would account for the condition of these two hulks: FIRE. Fire brings on rust. Moreover, it gets rid of everything that burns or melts. And there seemed to be very little left of these trailers except the undercarriage. Under the trailer hitch were a recently placed tire and board. Did that mean the trailer was a burnt hulk before it was towed here?


Then again, at some distance from the trailers there was another pile of metal. It was twisted metal sheathing, looking like it had been caught by the wind and rolled across the high open country where we stood.


It appeared to me that the trailer had caught on fire, burned all the wooden studs and joists, and left the sheathing to tumble away over the years. But could it still have been towed, at least in theory, to this place after the fire.

Aha. The wheels tell more of the story. Those steel bands around the rims where the tires should be are the remains of steel belts. The rubber from the steel-belted tires has burned away but left the belts. It is pretty obvious that this trailer has not been moved since the tires burned.

It looks like someone entertained the idea of hauling these things away (hence the elevated trailer hitch), but eventually decided it was too difficult. Let the grass cover the bones. And here in the dry, thin air of the Land of Enchantment, we will have the clues to this story to ponder for at least a couple hundred years.