On a chilly February morning I wake up in my adobe guesthouse in Old Mesilla. It should be in the 50s, but not today. The soft mourn of the mourning doves reminds me of eleven years waking up to those peaceful sounds.
When I first moved to Old Mesilla, roosters would crow, signaling the sunrise. The wild chickens have long since disappeared. I miss them.
I shower, and get dressed in the chilly adobe and drive to Las Cruces to have breakfast with long standing colleague and friend, Clyde.
I had intended to work on my Iwo Jima column in the guesthouse, but it's too chilly. So I take my books and computer over to the local coffee house. I conclude that Iwo Jima, with its saga of flag raising and the movie, "Sands of Iwo Jima," merits more than one column.
That evening I have dinner with Willie, another former colleague and long standing friend. We drive through winter-dormant pecan groves down to Chopes in La Mesa. The chile and cottonfields are fallow in February, but in another month irrigation water will be flowing.
The chiles rellenos at Chopes are the best ever.
If I thought Saturday was chilly, Sunday was colder: no sun, unusual for southern New Mexico, and a vicious wind that is common in February and March. I decide to visit my former chiropractor and long-standing friend, "the Doc." Doc is now in a veterans hospital in Truth or Consequences, known locally as "T or C," some 75 miles north of Las Cruces.
I call Doc's friend, Linda, to let her know I'm in town and ask if she wants to ride along. She had planned on driving up there, but it was too windy. I tell her I'm driving, wind or no wind. She is pleased to ride along.
I had traveled I-25 between Las Cruces and T or C many times during my tenure as Ag Econ Department Head at NMSU. T or C, an unlikely name for a town, was originally Hot Springs. Its high school still bears that name. Readers may recall an old radio show, Truth or Consequences, with host Art Linkletter. Linkletter offered publicity and fame to any town in America that would change its name to "Truth or Consequences." Hot Springs took him up on it. It has been T or C ever since.
My old pal, Doc, kept my spine in line during my years in New Mexico. Doc was a small town Iowa boy who dropped out of high school to join the Army in June of 1950. Nice timing, Doc. A mere three weeks later, Senior Colonel Lee Hak Ku lowered his arm, signaling the advance of Soviet T-34 tanks and 90,000 tough peasant troops led by seasoned combat officers to cross across the 38th parallel in Korea.
It's the misfortune of the American soldier that the South Korean army and, later, the Army of Vietnam were led by officers who attained rank by virtue of family and privilege, while opposing armies, the North Korean, and the Viet Cong, were led by highly motivated officers who attained rank through proven performance in combat fighting the Japanese, Chiang Kai Shek, and the French.
When Doc got to Korea, he was in artillery. He requested transfer to infantry. A cheesehead colonel from Wisconsin told him, "Kid, your not even dry behind the ears yet. You're staying in artillery."
I always remind him, "Doc, that cheesehead colonel saved your life. Infantry during early days of the Korean War? You'd have been a dead duck."
After the army, Doc joined the Air Force and was stationed at now-decommissioned Walker Air Force Base, Roswell, N.M. He finally exchanged fixing planes for a career of fixing spines after studying chiropractic at the Palmer School in Davenport, Iowa.
Doc first practiced in Winterset, Iowa, birthplace of Marion Morrison, aka John Wayne. Winterset was the setting for "Bridges of Madison County," the poignant love story made into a movie starring Meryl Streep and Clint Eastwood. Some years later, he moved to Las Cruces, where I found him in the yellow pages when my own spine needed fixing.
Linda and I arrive at the vets hospital. Doc is in the chow hall. He recognizes us as we enter, and seems elated to see us. We join him for dinner.
It is sobering to visit a vets hospital. All these guys were once so young and healthy, looking razor sharp in their uniforms. Now they are in various stages of declining health, many of them having trouble getting around.
It looks as if this New Mexico Veterans Hospital is taking good care of these once strong and healthy guys. Now that such a small proportion of American youth have served in the armed forces, or ever will, the least we can do is care for those who have.
After chow, the three of us walk the halls viewing displays of military uniforms and other memorabilia. It's soon time to leave. Linda and I bid Doc farewell.
Darkness comes early in February. We drive back to Las Cruces, the wind rocking my GMC and the dust making vision difficult. I drop Linda off and return to Old Mesilla. Nuts. The wind must have created a draft that extinguished the flame in the water heater. No hot water; I'll worry about that tomorrow.
I can't seem to get away from the cold. The space heater provides some respite. I crawl into bed with a couple of books on the Pacific Campaign.
Geez, more interesting stuff here. I didn't know that Kirk Douglas was originally slated for Sgt. Stryker in "Sands of Iwo Jima," the movie that propelled John Wayne to superstardom.
Maybe tomorrow it will warm up. I'm ready for more typical New Mexico weather.
- Monroe resident John Waelti can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
When I first moved to Old Mesilla, roosters would crow, signaling the sunrise. The wild chickens have long since disappeared. I miss them.
I shower, and get dressed in the chilly adobe and drive to Las Cruces to have breakfast with long standing colleague and friend, Clyde.
I had intended to work on my Iwo Jima column in the guesthouse, but it's too chilly. So I take my books and computer over to the local coffee house. I conclude that Iwo Jima, with its saga of flag raising and the movie, "Sands of Iwo Jima," merits more than one column.
That evening I have dinner with Willie, another former colleague and long standing friend. We drive through winter-dormant pecan groves down to Chopes in La Mesa. The chile and cottonfields are fallow in February, but in another month irrigation water will be flowing.
The chiles rellenos at Chopes are the best ever.
If I thought Saturday was chilly, Sunday was colder: no sun, unusual for southern New Mexico, and a vicious wind that is common in February and March. I decide to visit my former chiropractor and long-standing friend, "the Doc." Doc is now in a veterans hospital in Truth or Consequences, known locally as "T or C," some 75 miles north of Las Cruces.
I call Doc's friend, Linda, to let her know I'm in town and ask if she wants to ride along. She had planned on driving up there, but it was too windy. I tell her I'm driving, wind or no wind. She is pleased to ride along.
I had traveled I-25 between Las Cruces and T or C many times during my tenure as Ag Econ Department Head at NMSU. T or C, an unlikely name for a town, was originally Hot Springs. Its high school still bears that name. Readers may recall an old radio show, Truth or Consequences, with host Art Linkletter. Linkletter offered publicity and fame to any town in America that would change its name to "Truth or Consequences." Hot Springs took him up on it. It has been T or C ever since.
My old pal, Doc, kept my spine in line during my years in New Mexico. Doc was a small town Iowa boy who dropped out of high school to join the Army in June of 1950. Nice timing, Doc. A mere three weeks later, Senior Colonel Lee Hak Ku lowered his arm, signaling the advance of Soviet T-34 tanks and 90,000 tough peasant troops led by seasoned combat officers to cross across the 38th parallel in Korea.
It's the misfortune of the American soldier that the South Korean army and, later, the Army of Vietnam were led by officers who attained rank by virtue of family and privilege, while opposing armies, the North Korean, and the Viet Cong, were led by highly motivated officers who attained rank through proven performance in combat fighting the Japanese, Chiang Kai Shek, and the French.
When Doc got to Korea, he was in artillery. He requested transfer to infantry. A cheesehead colonel from Wisconsin told him, "Kid, your not even dry behind the ears yet. You're staying in artillery."
I always remind him, "Doc, that cheesehead colonel saved your life. Infantry during early days of the Korean War? You'd have been a dead duck."
After the army, Doc joined the Air Force and was stationed at now-decommissioned Walker Air Force Base, Roswell, N.M. He finally exchanged fixing planes for a career of fixing spines after studying chiropractic at the Palmer School in Davenport, Iowa.
Doc first practiced in Winterset, Iowa, birthplace of Marion Morrison, aka John Wayne. Winterset was the setting for "Bridges of Madison County," the poignant love story made into a movie starring Meryl Streep and Clint Eastwood. Some years later, he moved to Las Cruces, where I found him in the yellow pages when my own spine needed fixing.
Linda and I arrive at the vets hospital. Doc is in the chow hall. He recognizes us as we enter, and seems elated to see us. We join him for dinner.
It is sobering to visit a vets hospital. All these guys were once so young and healthy, looking razor sharp in their uniforms. Now they are in various stages of declining health, many of them having trouble getting around.
It looks as if this New Mexico Veterans Hospital is taking good care of these once strong and healthy guys. Now that such a small proportion of American youth have served in the armed forces, or ever will, the least we can do is care for those who have.
After chow, the three of us walk the halls viewing displays of military uniforms and other memorabilia. It's soon time to leave. Linda and I bid Doc farewell.
Darkness comes early in February. We drive back to Las Cruces, the wind rocking my GMC and the dust making vision difficult. I drop Linda off and return to Old Mesilla. Nuts. The wind must have created a draft that extinguished the flame in the water heater. No hot water; I'll worry about that tomorrow.
I can't seem to get away from the cold. The space heater provides some respite. I crawl into bed with a couple of books on the Pacific Campaign.
Geez, more interesting stuff here. I didn't know that Kirk Douglas was originally slated for Sgt. Stryker in "Sands of Iwo Jima," the movie that propelled John Wayne to superstardom.
Maybe tomorrow it will warm up. I'm ready for more typical New Mexico weather.
- Monroe resident John Waelti can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
