PERMANENT COMPANY

                                                          RED MOUNTAIN PASS

          Sage and dry gullies covered the earth tone terrain.  The reddish brown, rock formations, with hues of purple, reached up to touch the blue of the heavens, while low hanging clouds drifted overhead.  The highway, resembling a black ribbon, curved and wrapped through the desolate land.  It was the only proof that a civilized world existed.  The miles of northern New Mexico sped by as our new Ford traveled the pavement toward the state border.

          Bronco knelt on the floorboard between Chuck and me.  His menagerie was spread on the seat.

          “This one is a Marine,” he said to Chuck as he held up the small figure.

          “Do you have any Air force men? Chuck asked.

          “Sure, I have lots of them,” Bronco replied with a satisfied expression.  Here at last, was someone who could appreciate his shoebox full of plastic, green soldiers.

          If Chuck felt awkward, it wasn’t noticeable.  Unless, perhaps he was too cordial.  Our family was also on our best behavior.  We behaved the way we did when we entertained company.

           Although I was unhappy about leaving Albuquerque, I couldn’t sulk in front of Chuck and have him think I was a brat.  Deryl and Mom used their  knack of putting others at ease.  Deryl displayed his sense of humor and Mom utilized small talk.

           As I listened to them converse with Chuck, I realized, with thankfulness, the long season of abstinence we had enjoyed.  Ever since we left Socorro there had been no drinking.  I often wondered if our move from Socorro had been caused from a crises related to alcohol.  Even if my suspicions were true, I would never have them confirmed by Mom or Deryl.  Alcohol and its consequences were secrets never to be exposed.  I pushed all wondering to a back burner of my mind, along with the nagging fear that the drinking might start again.

          “Have you been to Colorado before, Chuck?” Deryl asked.

          “No, I never have,”

          “Really?” I asked in surprise, suddenly appreciating the advantage of traveling.

          “I have been to California,” Chuck interjected, as if he wanted to give the impression he was a man of the world.

          I quenched the desire to ask him why he had run away and where his father was.  Perhaps someday he would feel free to share his past.

          “We’ll be going over Red Mountain Pass,” Mom was saying, “It is beautiful.  As far as I am concerned, Colorado is God’s country.”

          The car snuggled close to the side of the mountain as the highway began to elevate.  Miners had used the path to reach the rich ore and silver hidden deep in the Colorado Mountains.  The narrow way had been chiseled into the rock formation and broadened for modern travelers. 

          The land opened toward the east to reveal the old mining town of Silverton.  The blue-gray buildings, on the plateau, silhouetted against the distant mountain range.  The road began to spiral upward as a curved staircase.  The car strained and puffed in the heightening elevation.  A summit was reached and then, in low gear, with brakes warming, came the descent from the heights.  Then the engine exhilarated to climb again.

          The blue-green of the all season spruces covered the mountains.  I imagined a herd of deer, tiptoeing through the snow in the thicket, watching timidly as we entered their solitude.  From the rocks on the mountainside were trickles of water that had frozen in the cold.  A month earlier, we wouldn’t have been able to travel over the pass.  It had been closed because of the snow.

          Red Mountain loomed above us.  Its livid color, shone like copper, in the bright sun.  A long abandoned mineshaft jetted from the bluff below.  The view was spectacular (If one dared to look down.)  Far below, in the snow-covered valley the partially frozen river wound its way.

          “Scenic View” was the road sign by the side of the highway.

          Deryl steered onto the pullover and we scrambled from the car.  Everyone stretched from the ride and breathed deeply.

          The air was exhilarating with clean, pure freshness and the strong scent of pine.  The cool mountain breeze carried a light mist in our direction, as we lined up beside the chain-linked barrier, and watched the roaring waterfall gush from the rugged mountainside.  The winter had endeavored to freeze the water flow but the force of the water had broken free from its icy prison.

          Mom turned to Chuck with a big grin, “See, I told you this is God’s country!”

          

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.)