Chloride - Old miners day...

After flying for 19 hours, we finally touched down in Las Vegas. We rented the car and rove off to find my old gas station in Chloride, my home, my refuge, my other place, my other life, the small town away from high culture and endless traffic jams. Doggy Dog seemed to recognize the place and felt right at home. Of course, the place had been gathering dust for about ten month so there was some work to be done, to make the house livable again. And then came the storm: the tin plates from the garage were flapping and making a lot of noise. So I have been looking for someone, to put all the loose stuff back together again... In the hopes that it doesn't fall apart in the next storm. The back house, after two downpours developed two minor leaks, but it is obvious we shouldn't wait till the next heavy rain, which might then complicate matters. Coming back here the first days when a lot of of stuff  must be repaired lends a distopian feeling to the place. But that smooths away after a short while when I look at the gorgeous mountains. Yet I keep worrying about the leaks in the Old Library. But today was not really a workday. On the contrary it was Old Miners Day, with stands and a parade and gunfights at Cyanide Springs. People dress up for these occasions: there are two groups of people doing skids and short exchanges, always with loud bangs from the black powder guns.
The parade itself is fun: Topnotch old cars driving through, horses and goats, old fire trucks, even the democrats were there in this mainly republican town. Yet also the republican ladies know how to bake, so we don't discriminate in buying some sweets at the bake sale. I usually buy Nadine's  work: she is more refined in her backing than some of the other ladies.
Of course on a day like this one meets the whole town, so Lisa who will do my laundry and let me use her vacuum cleaner, Dan, who walks around on such occasion as a civil war survivor in his grey uniform. People traipse through my yard. Some know better than I when something went missing in my absence. This year it was a spoked wheel, rather nifty...
I look at the clouds coming from the north: ranging from white areas to the darkest thunderstorm gray. I can see just one spot of blue sky.
This time not pictures, since I cannot download my pictures on my laptop. Something is wrong somewhere. You'll have to make do without the visual information. I would have loved to show you the beautiful appaloosa  on her first parade. It was a fun day and seeing old friends again is a good thing.

Chloride old miners day parade

Selling items for good causes is always part of the festivities of Old Miner Day.
The bake sale is impressive, the choice is incredible, rum cake, upside down pineapple cake, oatmeal cookies, peanut cookies, brownies, cinnamon cookies, law fat, splenda cake for diabetics, chocolate chip cookies for all of us. Of course women do a lot of work, hammering and decorating, you name it.Of course there is the parade with old cars, Shriners, the local volunteer fire department and even  the election was part of it. Local play actors dressed up for the occasion.

Bake sale on Old Miners Day

At nine the women have set up
their last stand
have baked
now sell or as I
eat and share and buy
dress up on a dare collect
for the merry go round
in this town
flags
for the vets in the cemetery
vaudeville play
community spirit
for a day
friendshp
& foreign wars
cow girls
bad boys
and floozies
bikers on harleys
(yes I know the sound well)
in a way
all soiled doves with
pretty old cars

Unintended consequences

For while I wrote monthly a piece for the eight page Chronicle. Often I would deal with strange differences between the USA and Europe. I wrote my 500 words one a month before I left for an other stay at the 'gas station' dealing with the different views about guns and Uzi's and the high tech bow and arrows a friend had so he could hunt without a permit. Anyway, the conclusion ran something along the following line: seen I had not been raised in a gun culture that I didn't own neither a gun, a revolver nor a rifle and since I felt I would be a danger to myself if I would try to use one I would probably be shot with my own gun. Being on my own however I did not want to give the impression that I was totally defenseless. The people knew my two dogs, so I could invoke them for the job. And I remembered that upon leaving the last time, being halfway through the process of adding a kitchen to my place that I had left a crowbar next to the bed. So my last line was just that: But I have a crowbar next to the bed. I return and we muddle on doing the kitchen. In such cases all the neighbors come by and give their opinion and good advice. So one of neighbors after the inspection of the going-ons called me over and said: I wouldn't if I were you use the crow bar, you could crack someone's skull with that. Go get yourself a baseball bat. That will hurt the other person less.

The desert poetry night

 Desert Poetry night, on April 30th, was the fourth and final leg of the Festival on Tour. We had a good crowd, listening well, showing their appreciation.

We counted 40 people sitting in the changing desert light. The first one to read was Carol Calvillo, with  a poem titled The House of Marie Durant. A great start. Although James Smiths, Jim, started with the intro signed in ASL by Dori, followed by Dan Bishop and the tribute to Johnny Cash. Some songs like Pocahontas and me and Jackson were just played over the loudspeakers but all the other songs Al Brock sang life with his guitar.

Jean Bishop read a poem by Jennielee Bishop, her mother in law: The Cowboy's wife. A fun, yet insightful poem about life on the ranch. Dan read two poems about work on the range, about a mean bull and building fences, written by Judd Bishop his father.

Cooper Gallegos read powerful poetry about living in an Hispanic  neighborhood in an abusive  relationship: bravo for brave and strong poetry. There was also Dori Signing three poems of her choice  from Traces, Annmarie Sauer  reading from Traces and Fred Schywek reading from Felsenleiter with the English translation. And then  10 poets read Global Night Car as a premiere in the USA. Then there was abundant food, excellent potato salad by Mary and a surprise birthday cake offered by Nadine. The next day was the big cleanup and saying goodbye to friends and neighbors... and on the road again.

Today: Desert Poetry Night...

Arizona is celebrating its 100th birthday this year.
Welcome to world poetry days 2012!
April is America's Poetry Month  -  on April the 30th 2012 ( Monday ),
desert poetry night will be held at Annmarie's Old Gas Station right here in Chloride Arizona.
   There will be poetry about people who settled the West: the landscape, the wildlife and the hardships they endured.
   The premiere of the Global Night Car project will be held right here under the Arizona stars... All friends of good music and poetry are welcome.
   There will be an open mike for all poets, right here under the Arizona stars.
   Also there will be a tribute to American legend Johnny Cash celebrating
his 80th birthday. More info: www.world-internet-books.com
*
 *OLD GAS STATION CREW*
CHLORIDE AZ
Tennessee Ave
near famous DIGGER DAVES

desert poetry night

desert poetry night

at Annmarie’s old gas station in Chloride, Monday April 30^th, 6 pm

Two poets, Fred Schywek from Germany and American born Annmarie Sauer, also translate poetry and produce multi-lingual books. Thus European authors can be read in the USA and American poets in Europe.

In the framework of April National Poetry Month, supported by the Academy of American Poets, they decide to organize a desert poetry night in Chloride, Arizona, at Annmarie’s Old Gas Station.

The experimental global night car will be premiered in the USA: it is a collaborative poem by nine poets from different countries and continents. Yet there also is cowboy poetry and work from locals like Jandolin Marks from Dolan Springs will be heard. Also Cooper Gallegos, California, will read from her latest book. Singer/songwriter and local country star Al Brock will perform in the Johnny Cash tribute for his 80 birthday this year. Donna Meyer will offer Chloride limericks. We strive for diversity and openness. Cowboy poetry by Judd Bishop will be read by his son Dan Bishop and Jean Bishop will read from her mother in law’s work, Jennielee Bishop. There is also an open mike.

Fred Schywek will read from Felsenleiter/Rockstairs and from Weiße Mühle/White Mill with a translation in English as a preview for the books to be published in early autumn.

Annmarie Sauer will read from Traces/Sporen in which you’ll find several Cerbat and Chloride landscape inspired poems. Dori Vaughn will perform/interpret three poems of her choice from Traces/Sporen in American Sign Language.

You can follow the developments concerning these readings on:

www.world-internet-books.com

www.poets.org

 From the glamor of Hollywood to the Old Historic Route 66. At first still maintained but then fallen to the wayside.


Present Past and Future is the slogan of Route 66...

 The Best Western in Bartsow with a view of the trucks going by on the I 40. Imagine the joy of a road all to oneself... In Ludlow there is a new coffee shop, its fate uncertain.

House -garage - gas station -
Ludlow café -
all derelict
publictés fanées
faded billboards
fallen by the wayside

a good life
with a real house across
at the east direction
nobody took
all went west

and needed shelter
repairs
gas
sustenance
courage for the crossing
but NO CHECKS CASHED


neither is anybody responsible
for fire or theft
of ones dreams
on Route 66.
How long before new Ludlow resembles the old
before the desert has taken back its space
before a new generation builds
a fresh watering hole for the thirsty and weary

April snow

The winter had been rather dry, so nobody complained when a pouring rain came down after the Friday evening local fish fry.  The rain danced and played on the tin roof in gentle and hard rhythms.

 Usually spring is nice and friendly. I have picnicked at Lake Mead at Christmas day and at the top of Hualapai mountain the next, with just a shirt and a sweater. Now I try to stop the wind from entering by putting pillows in front of the door
and the words a carpet of snow have become rather literal. Yard art is enhanced by nature. Here a sculpting by Bob Stördahl, putting old rust from the mines to good use.

Animal Dreams - Barbara Kingsolver

What to do on a blustery day with showers except photographing the light and shadows of life.

Just find a warm place inside and read.

Being a fan of Barbara Kingsolver’s writing I was pleasantly surprised to find her book in a small town for $2. I have read five of her books, this being the sixth one. She writes rich stories, with a tapestry of characters which ring true. In Animal Dreams Codi, the main character is at a juncture in her life, and goes back to Grace, Arizona where she grew up with her sister Hallie, who is in Nicaragua, helping the people with  their crops, and a distant father. Codi is in the habit of running to another place when life doesn’t turn out the way she wanted. One could say it is all about the luxury of forgiveness and living a sweet life so one has sweet dreams... Her memories seems unreal until the day she fully participates in life with loss, love and belonging. Some quotes which touched my heart:

* I couldn’t ask Emelina for directions to my own childhood home; I didn’t want her to know how badly dislocated I was. I’d always had trouble recalling certain specifics of childhood, but didn’t realize until now that I couldn’t even recognize them at point-blank range.

* Children robbed of love will dwell on magic.

* ”Insomnia’s different,” I said.  “You know the light that comes on when you open the refrigerator door? Just imagine it stays on all the time, even after you close the door. That’s what it’s like in my head. The light stays on.”

* The winter rains would soon dry up. Then there would not be another drop till July. During those brittle months the taste and smell of rain would be lost to us, beyond the recollection of children and the deepest root tips of trees. That is the way of the seasons in a desert place.

My Grace is Chloride, AZ.

Cowboy dreams of wild horses

 I had seen wild mustangs before and yes they used to hang out along the back road to Mineral Park, AZ. They used to be a bit higher up but clearly visible. And then, they were gone. Three, four, maybe five years I didn't find them. Yet now low and behold, they are grazing even near the road's edge. Driving gently and stopping in order not to scare them away we watched them grazing while keeping an eye on the car.

There are still two cowboys running cattle in this area and it is obviously free range land.

One is from Quail Springs Ranch.

It is still cowboy country  and culture with places like the Dambar where good cowboy food can be had in a rustic and pleasant ambiente.

Seven things to do... in small towns

In a small town with no road going through, all off them stopping at a mountain, at tailings or a wash there isn't much to do. Favorite activities are improvements: Putting up a water tank with a backhoe and resting under the result.

 One could browse the local shop which holds surprises but no fresh food. I found a second had copy of Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingsolver. I have read several of her novels and some of her essays: great work. The first one was Pigs in Heaven starting at the Hoover Dam, the very first time I crossed it.

Women gathering to discus the last and to prepare the next event at the local VFW. One is a biker chick, one is a belly dancer, an American Sign Language educational assistant, a poet, a cook and a former cow girl...

 You could watch the changes in the Alpenglow on the mountain or watch another splendid sunset...

And on Sunday nights there is a free movie at the theater: Easter Sunday it was the wonderfully moving Green fried tomatoes...

I don't know about other small towns, but here there is a special spirit which brings people together.

And now I go back to my book...

Small Town Bake Sale

To me this is an iconic picture of a small town in the West: The swamp cooler sticking out the window, the ladies in the shadow wearing their shades. Also I love seeing the king cap white pickup truck and when  you click on the picture you'll notice the quad...

The guys, members of the E Clampus Vitus are up the mountain to paint the C in bright white so that when one walks around one is reminded of where one is.

The women, in real community spirit have been baking: I got Brownies, pound cake, chocolate-chip-almond bars, and peanut butter  and raisin cookies. They also have fresh white bread. One lady proudly shows us her blueberry muffins... Note the red nails and the bangles.

Of course the obligatory warning is posted that all the goodies are not from a health authority inspected kitchen...
I have eaten some of my stash I took along and can assure you the quality is excellent. So munching along while blogging I help pay for the white paint and the 'brotherhood' of a day out on the mountain.
Small town... great people

Digger Daves - The bar almost open

 This is Digger Daves place and people are rooting for him to open up in April. The place was dingy, dirty and the food only good when grandma came in to cook... The place was closed because of a gambling habit of the owner and defaulting on his deliveries. Already the outside at night looks warm and cozy, inviting.

 The inside is a more than pleasant surprise: old horse tack on the ceiling, antlers, old water valves, a marvelous glass collection and a warm atmosphere. Big plans for the food:
A clean kitchen, well thought out, safe and lots of enthusiasm from the cook...

 In one of the pinball machines a pack rat made its nest.  That happens, when humans move out, animals move in...

 View of the bar and two back country horsemen behind the mirror. I can see  the hustle and bustle of the place, hearing laughter and joy and banter around the pool table. Dori had her birthday, Dave backed a marvelous chocolate cake; here together lighting the  sparkling candles.
A fun time among friends...