THE CONCEIVED IDEA

            Barb and I walked together after school.  An air of heaviness hung over our conversation.

          “Gloria, what if they send him to Springer?”

          “Don’t worry Barb, I don’t think that will happen,” I said reassuringly, “He’s been in trouble before and he has gotten out of it.”

          “But, the judge said the next time...” Barb’s voice broke and tears filled her eyes.

          Chuck had been in another scrape with the law.  This time it was for stealing.

          Barb turned her corner towards home and I continued up Constitution Avenue.  I felt sad as I thought of Chuck.  Not only was I concerned for him but for Barb.  I knew it would tear her apart if he was sent to Springer.

          I opened the front door and entered the living room.  My books sank into the chair as I laid them down.  Mom and Deryl were at the kitchen table and they were in deep discussion.

          “I may have no other choice, with jobs as scarce as they are around here.  From the size of that road job in Colorado, it might take a couple of years to finish.  That would be steady work,” Deryl was saying, as he held his cup of coffee.

          “If the kids weren’t in school, we’d go with you.”

          “I’ll just have to come home as often as possible”.

          I stood fidgeting by the table, only half listening to their conversation. I could be quiet no longer...

          “Chuck got caught stealing and he might be sent to Springer!”

          “When did this happen?” Deryl asked.

          “Just yesterday.  Barb told me at school.”

          “That’s a shame,” Mom said sadly, “I still think what that boy needs is a family to care for him.”

          The conception of the idea took place that evening as Deryl and Mom discussed Chuck’s situation.

          “Deryl, we could take that boy.  We could move him away from Albuquerque!”

          “Well, I suppose we could...but ...we’d have to get custody of him.  That would be hard to do.”

          “Let's see...I suppose the first place to begin would be with Chuck’s mother...and then we would have to go before the judge at his hearing,” Mom’s mind was beginning to click.

          “But, then we’d need a place to move to,” Deryl said.

          “We’ve thought of buying a farm in Colorado, maybe this is the time to do it!” I could hear the excitement building in Mom’s voice.

          My emotions were stirring.  I dreaded another move.  I had adjusted to our last move from Socorro to Albuquerque, because at Andrew Jackson, I was able to make many new friends.  All schools weren’t like Andrew Jackson.  I felt emotional discomfort as I thought back to some of the rejection I had experienced.  As the concern began to rise, I calmed it down and reassured myself.  This was just another dream.  Don’t get uptight.  It won’t happen.

          Instead of vanishing in the air, the dream began to take shape.  The conception of an idea was having birth pains.  Deryl and Mom visited with Chuck’s mother and it was decided they would attend the hearing with her and Chuck.  If the judge consented, Chuck’s mother was more then willing to have Chuck put in their custody.

          “Gloria, this is so wonderful of you and your family to help Chuck,” Barb exclaimed.

          Dave nodded his head in agreement.  To all of my friends I was a hero.  I smiled, basking in the picture of sainthood, but inside I was scared!             I was afraid to tell Mom. She would say I was selfish and my friends would probably think so too.  If it came to pass there would be many changes...another move...another school...I’d have to leave Dave ...my friends...Childers Drive.

           I really did care what happened to Chuck.  I decided the best way was to wait and see what happened.  The chances were good that it would all blow over and never come to pass.

          “It will be just like having an older brother,” Mom announced to Bronco and me when they came home from the hearing.

          “Yippee!  An older brother!” Bronco yelled.

          “Yippee indeed!  I felt sure I would awaken any minute, the dream would be over, and I would sigh in relief!  Mom’s chatter combined with Bronco’s jumping around proved it was reality.

          Later in the day, Barb came to the house.

          “Oh Gloria, I just can’t believe it!” she exclaimed jubilantly “Your family is wonderful!” 

          I smiled in shock.  I couldn’t believe it either.  The idea conceived, had given birth.

              I did not know that this was the last time we would live on Childers Drive.

                               

THE CHARMER

          It was an autumn Saturday afternoon.  The New Mexico sun shone, but without the warmness of summer.  The wind blew off the mesa towards our group of five, as we walked to the Hoffman Town shopping area. A new record store had opened and I had two dollars tucked in my jeans pocket.  I was going to buy the latest singles: “Peggy Sue” and “Maybe Baby.”

          I walked between Joey and Dave.  Joey was Dave’s friend and he tagged along everywhere we went. I didn’t mind, the three of us had a lot of fun together.

          “Shorty, when are you going to grow up?” Dave laughed as he patted the top of my head.

          “I may be short, but I’m mighty!” I teased back with a nudge.  Joey entered into the playful antics as we joked around.

          The three of us turned and waited for the “lovebirds’ to catch up.  Their arms were entangled around each other and I felt a twinge of embarrassment as they kissed.

          “Come on you two, or we’ll never get there,” I admonished.

          Slowly they unglued and began strolling until they caught up.  They were always demonstrative in their affection towards each other.  No matter who was around.  Dave and I held hands and when we said goodbye he would peck me on the lips. (Unless Joey was watching.)  But, our friends, bringing up the rear, had a different kind of love.  It bordered on the edge of..."desperate."  They were cemented together as two lone souls adrift from the rest of the world.

          Chuck was tall and husky with dark hair and blue eyes, set over sprinklings of freckles on his cheeks.  He had the appearance of a healthy American lad.  Even my mom had been smitten with him.

          “He’s such a polite young man,” she said when she met him.

          To look at Chuck you would never know he had a problem.  But, there were rumors that if he got into trouble again he would be sent to Springer's reform School.  Just last year, Chuck had run away from home.  He bragged of hitchhiking to California.  He kept us spellbound with his tales.  We could feel the hair on the back of our neck prickle as he told us of one experience.

         According to Chuck, he fought off the advances of a man who picked him up and Chuck demanded to be let out of the car.  The driver pulled over and Chuck exited in a flash.  Chuck was left by the side of the road to thumb another ride.

          Chuck’s mother worked as a carhop at a drive-in restaurant and there was no father in his home.  I often wondered if Chuck’s dad was in California, and perhaps Chuck had hitchhiked there to search for him.  
          My own father, Kenneth, was on the West Coast.  I mused that perhaps all divorced fathers headed for California.  All of this concerning Chuck’s dad, was purely speculation on my part.  Chuck revealed himself within limits, and then he would clam up.  I had the feeling there were many secrets hidden inside of him.  I also noticed he had no close friends.  He hung around with us because of Barbara.

          Barbara and I were best of friends.  She was full of chatter and giggles.  She was a live wire, dishwater blond.  All Barb ever thought of or talked about was Chuck.  She was completely captivated.

          “Our lives will always be inseperatable,” she would dramatize.

          Barb’s mother would like to have separated the two.  She was against the relationship and viewed Barb as a willful teenager.  Barb was hardheaded it was true.  She was determined to do what she pleased, despite her mother’s disapproval. 
            Barb’s home was also without a father.  She had confided to me her displeasure and dread of her mother’s approaching marriage. I had spent the night at Barb’s house a number of times and the icy tension  was obvious.  I also noticed, from their standard of living, that there were no apparent financial difficulties.  Barbara lacked for nothing materially but emotionally she clung to Chuck.

          As we neared the shopping area, I remembered Mom’s comment when I told her Chuck had been in trouble.  “All that boy needs is a good home and a family.  Why, that young man could charm anyone.”

          “Yes, Chuck was charming.  He had charmed Barbara, mom and me.  But, was a charmer someone who was real and trustworthy?  We would find out in the months that followed.

BOYFRIEND WITH A MOTORCYCLE

HARLEY DAVIDSON

           

           The only thing Mom didn’t like about David was his motorcycle.

          “Gloria, I do not want you on that cycle!  Now, I have told you before how dangerous they are.  When you were only two years old, Tommy Terrell came by the house in Magdalena, and took me for a ride on his motorcycle.  We were going to take you with us and then I decided not to.  Thank God we didn’t or you would have been killed!”

          I knew the story well; the motorcycle had collided with a car.  Mom had been thrown from the bike and suffered a concussion, which put her in the hospital for weeks.  Her friend had walked away with minor injuries.

          David drove up to the curb, sitting on the seat of his black Harley Davidson.   I was standing in line for the school bus.

          “Want a ride home?” he yelled.  His green eyes sparkled good naturedly and he smiled his cocky grin.  I looked over at him, and then at the bus.  It wasn’t hard to decide.

          “Okay, but you’ll have to leave me off at the corner or Mom will have a fit.”

          “Your Mom doesn’t need to worry.  “I’m great on this chunk of metal!”

          It was true.  David and his cycle welded together as one mechanically smooth machine.  He had confidence and full control.

          I swung my leg over the seat and tucked my cotton skirt under my legs to maintain my modesty.  Holding the books in the crook of my left arm, I placed my right one around David's waist and hung on tight.

          “Ready?”

          “Ready,” I answered.

          The engine revved, the side pipes smoked and we were off.  The wind blew my face causing my eyes to sting, so I leaned my head against David's back.  My long hair whipped in the wind and I wondered if I’d be able to comb out the tangles.

          Wyoming Boulevard flew by as David guided the cycle through traffic.  We turned at the Constitution intersection and a few minutes later the bike came to a halt.

          I climbed off the Harley, straightened my skirt and combed my thick tangled hair.

          “I’ll call you later,” David yelled, as he spun his bike toward home.

          “You here already?” Mom asked as I entered the front door.

          “It didn’t take as long today,” I answered, hoping she wouldn’t notice my cheeks were red from being wind blown. (And from her question.)

HEART BEATS

          There is nothing like having a boyfriend when you are fourteen, unless it is having two of them.  Paul and Rob were as different as day and night.  To complicate matters, they were best of friends.

          I met Paul when I was elected, (probably because I was the clown of our home room class) to Student Council.  There, in front of all the representatives, at the school meeting was tall, dark and handsome, Paul.

          He was President of the Student Council.  I was sure my heart would stop!

          Rob, as I said before, was Paul’s best friend.  When Paul walked me to class and began calling me “his” girl, Rob was always with us.  Rob was a good three inches shorter then Paul.  Rob wasn’t handsome, but he had compelling mischief written all over his smiling face.  Before long, Paul and Rob were saying, “she’s my girl” and both were asking me to go steady.  (Going steady consisted of: wearing a boys ring on your finger with gobs of tape or string in order to make it fit, or hanging it on a chain around your neck.  This gave the fellow exclusive rights to walk you to class, phone you or come over to your house.  All other boys were off limits.)

          I was reveling in the attention.  But, I knew it couldn’t last forever.  They were bearing down for a decision.  What should I do?  I liked them both. 
         I was in a quandary until...he was approximately 5”9” tall, had blond curly hair, green eyes, covered with long lashes and full lips that lifted slightly, in a cocky smile.  He was wearing the latest rage: a black leather jacket with silver zippers on the pockets.  He walked toward me in the school hallway.  For once, Paul and Rob weren’t around, and I was glad!

          My eyes met his light greens and his lips parted in a grin.

          “Hello there!” he said enthusiastically, as he stopped right in front of me.

          “Hi”, I said casually, trying hard not to show too much interest.

          “Are you new in school?  I haven’t seen you around.”

          I wanted to say, “You haven’t been looking”, but instead I replied, “I’ve been here since the beginning of the year.” (I didn’t acknowledge the fact that I had noticed him from a distance.)

          “Which way is your next class?” he asked as he took my arm, “I’ll walk you there.”

          I happily obliged.  Be quiet my heart!

          Paul and Rob remained my friends, but it wasn’t long before David's  large silver ring dangled on a chain around my neck.

        

AN UNEXPECTED RIDE

ROLLING ACROSS THE MESA

          I answered the front door. I was surprised: there on the front step  stood my "X Trouble".

          "Hey, Gloria", she grinned, "Come riding with us".

          I peeked out the door. There was a low-rider, black car parked in the driveway. Three Spanish boys were in the front seat.

          I hesitated. "Come on, we won't be gone that long," she said.

          We ran out to the car and I hopped into the back seat with the two girls who had been my "double trouble." The "2nd, X trouble" gave me a small smile.

          (Mom wasn't home or she would never have allowed me go.)

          The car headed for the Mesa. There was still a lot of desert that was undeveloped.

          Dust swirled around and behind us as the black car sped over the hilly dirt roads. We yelled and laughed at each tummy tickler…it was just like a roller coaster.

          When we drove back into our driveway: I climbed out of the back seat.   

          "Yey Gloria…Adios"

          "Adios, Amigos," I answered as I rushed to the front door. Mom still wasn't home…she never knew about my exciting ride.

         

           

DOUBLE TROUBLE COMING MY WAY

 

 

HERE COMES DOUBLE TROUBLE

          I was standing outside my second hour class, busily engaged in conversation with another girl, when someone bumped hard against my shoulder.  I turned and found two dark eyes penetrating mine.  The eyes belonged to a girl twice my size (both up and out).  She gave me a sneer with her upper lip and turned her back.  Following close behind, as her shadow, was a small wiry girl.  She scowled as she passed by me.

          “Whatever you do, stay away from those two!” my friend whispered, “They are trouble!”

          The following day, I met “trouble” coming down the hall.  There was no way to avoid them. They were heading straight in my direction.

          The small one gave me a “death stare” while the large one proceeded to be the mouthpiece for the two.

          “You meet us after school this afternoon in front of the building, Hot Shot!  We’re going to beat you to a pulp!”

          I walked around them, trying hard to act nonchalant, but my knees were shaking.

          When the dismissal bell rang that afternoon, I left by the side door and ran to the bus.

          For two days I lived in fear of those girls!

          It was the fourth hour and we were assembling for the PE class.

My enemies threw dagger stares in my direction.  I did my best to ignore their hissing, “Chicken!”

          The large girl came over to my pile of belongings, picked up one of my notebooks and began flipping through the pages.  All at once I had had enough!  I could feel the anger welling up inside of me, and the fear that had been binding me...evaporated!  At that moment, I didn’t care if she was three times my size.  I walked over to her and grabbed the notebook from her hand.

          “You leave my things alone!” I demanded, as I stared her in the face. (I was shocked at the forcefulness of my own voice.)

          Her face registered shock and then her features transformed into a smile!  Her “shadow” stared at me in unbelief.

          From that day on, the two that were known as “trouble” never troubled me again.

ALBUQUERQUE...JUNIOR HIGH

ANDREW JACKSON JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL

          Activity was the only way to describe the hustle and bustle of the hallways in  Albuquerque’s Andrew Jackson Junior High.

          I felt excitement over the hundreds of faces scurrying to the first hour class.  In my homeroom, I was one of five new students.  It wasn’t long before I was joining in the laughter and chatter between classes.  Through our many moves I had learned to push myself forward, with an air of confidence that I did not always possess.  It was kind of like, “Fake it until you make it.”

          Two weeks into school, Amy, a fellow ninth grader, walked up to me after dismissal.

          “Gloria, didn’t you say you were from Socorro?”

          “Yes.”

          “Do you know Janet Bailey?”

          “Sure,” I replied.

          “She’s my cousin,” Amy said.  I smiled, and was ready to discuss our mutual acquaintance when Amy continued.

          “Gloria, is Fess Parker your uncle?”

          The question caught me off guard.  I remembered the day in the elementary school yard, where I had watched the fifth grade girls’ jump rope.  Feeling left out, I had called Janet apart from the others and told her my lie, “Janet, my uncle is Fess Parker.”  The words rang in my memory.

          ‘No, he isn’t my uncle.  Why would you ask that?” I asked as if I didn’t know where she could have come up with the idea.

          “Well...huh,” she stammered, “Janet wrote me and said to ask you.  She said you told some whoppers.”

          I didn’t say anything to incriminate myself and Amy walked away, perplexed.

          I watched as she crossed the schoolyard toward the city bus.  No one, since the fifth grade, had ever mentioned the lie.  Now, four years later, I was confronted with it.

          “Whew!  I will never tell another lie as long as I live!  Even as I thought it, I knew that was probably not true.

THE CHANGING OF CHILDER'S DRIVE

BACK TO ALBUQUERQUE

  
        Childers's drive had become an established neighborhood.  The young trees, planted years earlier, had grown tall and filled out. Our house was in need of loving care after suffering from renter’s neglect.  The siding longed for a fresh coat of paint and the green shutters were beginning to weather and peal.  The backyard was still bare, except for weeds and the one lone tree.  The only thing flourishing was the Kentucky blue grass in the front.

          Our furniture was carried into the house and set in the bare rooms.  The once proud hardwood floors had lost their luster.  The woodwork was scratched and the linoleum in the kitchen was dull and lifeless.

          I entered my bedroom and began putting my things away.  This house brought back so many memories...of Dad...of the day I left my mud pottery in the back yard to answer the door...the three visitors bearing sad news that would change our lives forever...of Mom sitting in the gold chair, her posture slumped in despair and shock...while I had stood, transfixed, in the doorway.  It had been four years since that circle of time.

           House on Childers Drive, here we are again.

LEAVING SOCORRO

ADIOS SOCORRO

          My way of coping was to escape any tense situation.  It was my pattern to turn a deaf ear, and as  much as possible, a blind eye, to anything that would cause me anxiety.  I hid in my youthful naivete, busied with friends and endless activities.  It was a matter of survival!  And so it was, that often I was caught off guard by what I should have been conscious of all along.

          Deryl and Mom were concerned about something.  All discussion was in hushed tones.  The first real “fact” to surface was that Deryl was no longer working for the Bureau of Reclamation.  I found this strange since Mom often commented what a good job it was.  Deryl would be working on a road construction project near Albuquerque.  This knowledge was followed by a bombshell delivered by Mom.

          “Gloria, we’re moving back to Albuquerque.  The house on Childers drive is vacant and the renters have left. The move will put us closer to Deryl’s work.

          I struggled with the choking in my throat.  I wanted desperately to reveal my anger, but frustrated at my inability to communicate, I ran to my room and slammed the door.

          Our roots that were being planted into Socorro were about to be pulled up.  I wondered if we would ever be permanently rooted.

(Jill Hollinger and I remained friends for years. She married Raymond Romero.  Years later, when she was pregnant, she went to the dentist to have her wisdom tooth removed. A blood clot hit her brain. I was sad when I heard she had passed away.  Jill had been a wonderful friend to me.)

ALCOHOL...MY ENEMY

                                                    ALCOHOL YOU ARE MY ENEMY

Summer 1956

          It was a beautiful, summer morning in 1956.  The hour was eleven o’clock in the morning, and our family was anticipating a day of shopping and visiting Grandma in Albuquerque.  Our station wagon headed out of Socorro.  Near the outskirts of town was a small tavern with one pickup parked in front.

          “There’s Tom’s pickup.  I wonder if he’s still planning on taking that job in Australia.” Deryl asked.

          “Pull in and we’ll talk to him,” Mom suggested.

          I groaned outwardly.  “Ah...come on...you’ll be in there forever.”

          “We’ll only be a few minutes,” Mom said as Deryl stopped the car in front of the tavern.

          I threw dagger stares as they entered the small block building.  One blackened window stared back mockingly with bold red letters: Bar.

          I slid down in the seat angrily and folded my arms.  I hated bars!  I hated alcohol!  They were both exercising more and more influence over our lives!

          The sun was hot as it shown through the open windows of the station wagon, and a small breeze swept the leaves of a tree near the tavern.  One lone fly buzzed and landed on my sweaty legs, which were beginning to stick to the warm upholstery.

          Our car and Tom’s pickup were the only two vehicles parked in front of the establishment.

          After we had waited nearly an hour, Bronco became fidgety and ventured into the bar.  I sat brooding.  We’d be lucky if we ever made it to Albuquerque.  Why did they have to stop?  I knew they were in there drinking!  Alcohol was becoming an increasing problem.  Before, Deryl and Mom only drank when they went out, but recently, they had begun drinking at home.  I could still remember the first evening I noticed Mom mixing their drinks.  I had a nervous, sickening feeling and instantly disliked the new routine!  My concern was confirmed by a couple of incidents.  One of them happened late at night.  Mom locked Deryl out of the house, and he stood outside their bedroom window, swearing, while Mom was on the inside yelling out.  I lay in bed, covering my head with my pillow, muffling the sound, and the embarrassment I felt at the thought of neighbors being disturbed.

          After alcohol invaded out home, martinis became a usual evening habit.  The drinks were used to unwind from the day and to have a time of fellowship together.  Supper would be cooking, Deryl had just showered from work, and Mom would fix the martinis.  The meal would be delayed as voices and laughter rose in volume from the kitchen.  Bronco and I waited in front of the television in the living room.  Some nights, if an argument erupted (which was happening frequently) supper would be ruined, and all that filled one’s stomach was nervousness, anger, resentment and fear!

          An old blue Oldsmobile pulled up beside our station wagon and a man entered the tavern.  On the highway, vehicles sped by for their destinations.

          I cracked my car door, allowing the warm breeze to blow through.  Bronco ran out of the bar and stood outside the car.  He picked up a handful of rocks and began tossing them toward the edge of the driveway.

          “What are Deryl and Mom doing in there?” I asked angrily.

          “Oh, just drinking and talking with that Tom, guy,” Bronco answered nonchalantly.

          Time dragged by.  The afternoon sun was penetrating more heat, and the lone fly had a companion.

          I thought of walking home. It was only a couple of miles, but I knew that if I did Mom would be angry.

          I stepped out of the car and stretched my legs.  My shorts and blouse were wet from perspiration.  I felt as if I’d ridden to Albuquerque and back twenty times, and I hadn’t been there yet!  I slammed the car door and marched toward the tavern.  I hated the place with every step I took! 

          The interior was semi-dark, and it took my eyes a few minutes to adjust.  “Why are these places always so dark?” I asked myself.  The bartender stood behind the bar, serving another beer to the man from the Oldsmobile.  Deryl, Mom and their friend were sitting around a table in the center of the room.  Before them, on the table, were a number of empty glasses.  Their voices were loud and boisterous.

          “I’m tellin ya...ther’s money down under...yesireee.... Australia...that’s the land of opportunity.” Tom bellowed.

          “How much money you planning on making?” Deryl asked, with a thick tongue.

          “Why, thousands more than I’m making around here,” his friend bragged loudly.

          I walked up behind Mom and touched her arm.  She was engrossed in the conversation and turned toward me, annoyed.  When I saw her displeasure, my own aggression melted.  Mom had never hurt me physically, but when she drank,  I was leery of this strange person who emerged.  She was so different from the mother I knew when she was sober.

          “Mom, when are we going?” I asked, with all the courage I could muster.

          “Pretty soon."  Go on...we’re talking business!” she said impatiently and turned back to the conversation and her companions.

          “Yea, our glasses are empty...let’s have another drink!” Tom roared as he brought his hand down on the table, causing the glasses to shake.  “Hey, Shorty, three more over here!” he yelled over his shoulder to the bartender.

          I turned to walk away and my eyes met the clock on the wall.  It was 2:45!  We had been there almost four hours!  Anger and frustration were building up inside me as I stepped back into the sunlight.

          Bronco had tired of throwing rocks and was inside the station wagon leaning against the door.  He looked like he could fall asleep.  I slid into the back seat across from him.

          The fly had two more pesky friends.  The warm breeze had stifled and the interior of the car was hot!  And, I was steaming!

          “They’re just lucky I’m only thirteen or I’d be gone!”  I growled to Bronco, releasing some of my pent up emotion.  One of the flies lit on my leg.  I swatted at him and he flew out the window, deserting his other winged friends.  I slid down in the seat, completely frustrated!

          Another hour passed...I heard voices and rose up.  Deryl, Mom and Tom were coming though the tavern doorway.

          “Finally!” I said in disgust.  Bronco sat up.

          “See ya, buddy,” Deryl yelled at his friend, as Tom pealed his pickup onto the highway toward Socorro.

          Deryl and Mom were obsessed with Australia, and their voices were in full volume as they got into the car.  I knew we would never move to Australia.  It was just another dream image.  An idea that would never take place.  Deryl and Mom were always looking for the pot of gold at the end of a distant rainbow, or greener pastures just over the next hill.  Discontent and continuous upheaval was our way of life.  If contentment and peace had met us face-to-face we probably wouldn’t have recognized them.  They were foreign commodities in our lives.

          I don’t know what triggered the argument, but Deryl and Mom were yelling at each other.  The scenery outside was a blur as it flew past the station wagon window.  I peeked over Deryl’s shoulder: the speedometer read, ninety-five miles an hour and was climbing.

          “Deryl, slow down!  Do you want to kill us all?” Mom screamed, “Slow down!  My kids are in this car!”

          “Woman, what’s your *******  ***** problem?” Deryl swore.

          “Stop this car and get out!” Mom shouted and shoved him.

          The car swerved, slowed and came to an abrupt, screeching sideways halt by the side of the road.  Deryl opened the car door and Mom pushed him out.  They were still yelling.

          Mom slid behind the steering wheel and locked the car door.  Deryl was swaying and swearing outside the door.  Mom started the engine, and we pealed rubber onto the highway.  Deryl was left behind in a cloud of dust.  I looked back and watched him turn, with a posture of dejection, and stagger toward Socorro.

          We were on our way to Albuquerque, but it was late afternoon.  Mom was driving over the speed limit.  Bronco and I were holding on in the back seat and Deryl was still in Socorro.

          As the miles sped by, Mom sobered up and slowed the speed of the car.  She was still angry with Deryl, and the atmosphere was tense.

          Evening shadows were falling over Albuquerque, and a New Mexico sunset lit the western sky. We drove up Central Avenue towards Grandma’s store.

          Mom and Grandma sat at the kitchen table and had a long discussion.  Grandma, who hated alcohol almost as much as I did, exhorted Mom to abstain.  She also blamed Deryl for the problem.  I often wondered if Grandma realized that Mom was as much a culprit in drinking as Deryl.

          The next morning, Deryl showed up at the store.  It wasn’t long before he and mom made up.  When they were sober, they were completely different people.  They could be giving and loving. ( Although Mom had been changing toward me, and I felt distant from her...and wasn't feeling love from her.).

          The four of us traveled back to Socorro.  We were drained emotionally and relieved the upheaval was over.  I, for one, hoped and prayed there would never be another occurrence.  Time would pass, and then, without warning, the old serpent of drunkenness would surface again.  Underneath the veneer of our lives, alcoholism was undermining the support beams, deteriorating the structure, and chipping away at the very foundation of our lives!   The devilish fiend.... Alcoholism...the disease...the thief...our       

Enemy!!!