January, and it was time to leave the tundra for sunshine and warm weather. After two days of traveling with cloudy weather but good roads, son Johnny and I awoke in Hugoton, in the southwest corner of Kansas. At last, the day dawned bright and clear. We headed west out of town and a sharp left across Oklahoma’s panhandle, and range country that dull brown this time of year.
We reach Guymon in the center of the Panhandle and take U.S. 54 diagonally across the Texas Panhandle to the New Mexico border, then another 90 miles to Tucumcari, famed stop on old U.S. Route 66. Tucumcari still contains the long strip of motels that once served travelers on old Route 66, and today’s wanderers along I-40.
I must make my favorite stop on that long strip, the Pow Wow Inn that serves the best huevos rancheros ever. A couple of corn tortillas topped with two fried eggs — sunny side up, of course — with refried beans, hash browns, a bit of lettuce, all topped with New Mexico green chile sauce. There is just nothing like it for breakfast, or any other time for that matter.
With that craving temporarily satisfied, we take the 40 mile stretch on I-40 to Santa Rosa, then U.S. 54 south across high rolling range land down to Alamogordo. Then it’s across the Tularosa Valley, past Holloman Air Force Base and White Sands National Park, recently upgraded from National Monument status. Once across the valley, it’s up the east side of the majestic Organ Mountains, over St. Augustine Pass, and down the west side to Las Cruces in the Mesilla Valley of the Rio Grande.
The pleasant sunshine that we had been seeking was not to last. The next morning dawned an uncharacteristic gray and drab. We have breakfast at a favorite coffee shop in the historic town of Mesilla where I still own that adobe that was my residence during my 11 years on the faculty of NMSU.
The town of Mesilla was first settled by citizens who were unhappy at being part of the United States after the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo moved the U.S. border south of the Village of Dona Ana. However, a border dispute still claimed Mesilla as part of the U.S. The dispute was settled with the 1854 Gadsden Purchase that made southern parts of Arizona and New Mexico part of the U.S.
In 1881 Mesilla rejected a Santa Fe Railway line intended for the area. The smaller village of Las Cruces offered free land to the railroad, resulting in growth that far surpassed Old Mesilla. To many of us, that turned out just fine, as we appreciate the ethnic charm and traditions of romantic Old Mesilla.
After a day running a day of running errands, we hoped that the next day would result in some typical winter New Mexico sunshine and blue skies. But that was not to be, just a chilly, rainy, drab day. We had breakfast in that Mesilla coffee shop and I checked in with Jacque, who lives next door to my adobe and manages it for me. I was pleased to learn that my current tenants there are happy with the place.
That evening, we join friend and former colleague, Willie, to hit another favorite spot, Chopes in La Mesa, about 15 miles south, through the dormant Pecan groves and across the Rio Grande — still in New Mexico before it becomes the international border. Chopes is usually crowded, but on this drab evening, there are empty tables — very unusual for this fabled restaurant that has become an institution. Its Mexican food is unbeatable.
The next day dawns more like typical southern New Mexico winter — blue skies and clear with crisp, invigorating air. But it’s time to leave for Texas and Fort Hood where daughter Kara and son-in-law Steve are stationed. But not before we have breakfast with friend and former colleague Jim, and a group of retired NMSU professors. After good conversation and being updated on NMSU and New Mexico politics we check out of the motel, toss our gear into the GMC and hit I-10. It’s about an hour to El Paso, and another 230 miles southeast on I-10 until we turn due east on U.S. 190.
The bright New Mexico sunshine we left has turned to clouds, and some fog as we get close to Killeen and Ft. Hood. But we get there late, and check into our hotel.
The next day gives us some welcome Texas sunshine and we join daughter Kara and son-in-law Steve. I knew that Kara was up for promotion, and am thrilled to learn that she has just become a lieutenant colonel, along with Steve.
When I was a teen-aged Marine Private laboring through boot camp back in the mid-1950s, the last thing I could have imagined was someday having a daughter and son-in-law as lieutenant colonels. But as Yogi Berra reminded us, “It’s tough to predict stuff, especially when it’s in the future.”
Kara and Steve took us on a tour of Ft. Hood and the museum of the 1st Cavalry Division that is based at Ft. Hood. These modern military bases bear little resemblance to bases that those of us serving a half century and more ago recall. Today’s military PX — post-exchange for the uninitiated — compares with any civilian super-mall. That’s quite a change from the shacks that we once knew as “the PX.”
Marines love to poke fun at the Army. Take the main drag of Ft. Hood, “Tank Destroyer Boulevard.” C’mon, give me a break. Leave it to the Army to come up with such over-the-top nonsense.
But Steve informs me that it was named for an action of a unit of African American soldiers.
Between that, and having two Army lieutenant colonels in the family, it sort of takes the edge off. One has to enjoy success in any event.
— John Waelti of Monroe can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net. His column appears Saturdays in the Monroe Times.
