New Mexico Memories

The Skunk Chooses You

When I was a child, I had an incredible longing to have a live skunk. My mother and father wanted to give me one until they found out that it had to be de-smelled. I do not know how or where I would have kept it; my sister had a horse but it had a stall in the stable down the road. My caretaking of a gerbil was short lived—it bit me and I could not manage it any longer. But what about the skunk? It seemed like such a gentle and interesting animal. I loved its nocturnal instincts, its blackness and its white stripe. I don’t know what possessed me to love the idea of a skunk but I did. It lasted for a long time until one Christmas when I received a silky smooth stuffed skunk. I did like it but it was not able to playful and slink around at night like I had seen. On occasions in the summer, I would get a whiff of a skunk, not a direct hit mind you, just a perfumy air that made me realize someone had offended it. It would come late at night in the darkness and I remembered my wish and how it was being realized. I got over the idea of having a live skunk. Later in life someone said to me, “You don’t choose animals, they choose you.” How did the skunk know to choose me? I don’t know, it was a spiritual feeling, something that I could not rationalize.

Recently I visited the Bosque in southern New Mexico where cranes are attracted on their southern migration, to large fields of retired fallow seeded fields. Early every fall morning, there is a giant lift-off of sand cranes. It is a bit chilly at 5am; the gray sky lightens and there is a collective honk and groups of cranes in unison signal their intention by picking up their feet and flapping.
I am pretty accustomed to doing my own thing while living here in Santa Fe. I can be creative or lazy in the evening, watch my favorite show MI-5, play on Facebook or take a walk along the Alameda. We had the most spectacular snow last year that I have had since I arrived. The base of snow alone was 70 inches. And I live at 7,000 feet so lots of powder snow. My niece, Reeve, and I were able to go skiing last weekend. Even on a weekday, when it snows enough, school is closed. I put on my x country skis & take a tour around town.

In the Spring and Fall, I love to ride my Nantucket-licensed bike up and down the strait and narrow which runs alongside the Santa Fe river. That is what Santa Feans call the Alameda. My neighborhood is like a barrio. There is a coyote fence around the property. We can see each other through it. It is quiet near the dog park unless the police pull over some drunk drivers.School this year has taken up 100% of my energy, enthusiasm and patience. Budget cuts for the State and for the school district seem imminent. I have enjoyed implementing my curriculum using President Obama’s book Dreams from My Father. Students began by doing their own family trees and making mandalas of their lives. We have studies all the different roles of the President: Commander in Chief, Chief Legislator, Chief Citizen. Students have been able to evaluate the performance of the President. Most of them identify with Obama: parents of a mixed race, living with grandparents, absentee father etc. For our community service project, all 50 students worked in the Community Shelter. Here is what one teenage girl wrote: