Newspaper kites & edible Easter grass

Las Cruces Style — S. Derrickson Moore Newspaper kites & edible Easter grass By S. Derrickson Moore dmoore@lcsun-news.com LAS CRUCES — By the time you read this, you may already have been to Easter morning church services, enjoyed a festive holiday breakfast or brunch, consumed several jelly beans and munched an ear or two off your chocolate bunny. But have you polished off the grass in your Easter basket? While checking out interesting style trends for spring and Easter, I couldn’t resist picking up some of the new edible Easter grass at a local superstore. I got two packs, because I planned to get some reviews from our Sun-News staffers and I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough left for a desk-top display. I needn’t have worried. I promoted it heavily, stressing all three bright pastel flavors: strawberry, blueberry and green apple. But despite my enthusiasm, the adventurous spirit of our features department, and our usual willingness to eat just about anything at our late afternoon weekly staff meeting, edible Easter grass turned out to be a hard sell. Despite a lot of coaxing, I think I was the only one to try strands of all three colors (to claim that there were three clearly discernible flavors would be kind of a stretch). They all tasted pretty much the same to me: a cross between stale Pringles and vintage tutti-frutti gum. A couple of reporters commented that it tasted basically like paper. We decided the best review came from cop shop reporter James Staley. “It’s one of those things that seem like it wasn’t meant to be eaten, but if you do, it won’t kill you,” James opined. So … I may have a lifetime supply of edible Easter grass. Maybe, if I ever decide to get really creative and ambitious, I could incorporate it as a garnish in an elegant nouveau cuisine dinner. Or an avant-garde art project. Or maybe I’ll contribute it to the backyard compost heap. It will be interesting to see if regional birds will decide to incorporate it in their nests. If neon blue, pink and lime-green nests show up in your neighborhood trees and cactus stands, you’ll know who to thank or blame. • • • A reminder that the old ways are still often the best came this week from Richard Miller, who had read a story of mine about the joys of kite flying that appeared in our weekly My Las Cruces publication and will show up again in the April issue of our Healthy U magazine. Miller told me he’s 92 now and doesn’t do as much kite-flying as he might like, but he still has fond, and detailed, memories of successfully launching some do-it-yourself, low-budget aircraft projects when he was growing up in Ohio. “I remember making kites out of newspapers. They were kind of flimsy, but they worked. We also made parachutes out of handkerchiefs. You tied a string to each corner and they caught the wind pretty well,” Miller recalled. You gather the equal-length strings together and tie them on something light-weight, like a cork, or maybe a small toy or action figure from your Easter basket. Drop it off a balcony or try to catch a breeze on a windy day (pretty easy this time of year). If you’d like to try a do-it-yourself kite project, you can do a little high-tech research to find out how to make some low-tech retro flying machines. I was amazed at how many results I got when I did an online search for “build a newspaper kite” and “handkerchief parachutes.” Unless you’re reading this online, you’re holding most of what you need right in your hands. I recommend the Sunday funnies or pages with lots of color pictures. I guarantee it’ll be more fun than edible Easter grass … though maybe you could use the grass for the kite’s tail. Happy Easter, everyone. May the day inspire a joyous season of rejuvenation and creativity. S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at 575-541-5450. Follow her on Twitter @DerricksonMoore

Newspaper kites & edible Easter grass

Las Cruces Style — S. Derrickson Moore Newspaper kites & edible Easter grass LAS CRUCES — By the time you read this, you may already have been to Easter morning church services, enjoyed a festive holiday breakfast or brunch, consumed several jelly beans and munched an ear or two off your chocolate bunny. But have you polished off the grass in your Easter basket? While checking out interesting style trends for spring and Easter, I couldn’t resist picking up some of the new edible Easter grass at a local superstore. I got two packs, because I planned to get some reviews from our Sun-News staffers and I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough left for a desk-top display. I needn’t have worried. I promoted it heavily, stressing all three bright pastel flavors: strawberry, blueberry and green apple. But despite my enthusiasm, the adventurous spirit of our features department, and our usual willingness to eat just about anything at our late afternoon weekly staff meeting, edible Easter grass turned out to be a hard sell. Despite a lot of coaxing, I think I was the only one to try strands of all three colors (to claim that there were three clearly discernible flavors would be kind of a stretch). They all tasted pretty much the same to me: a cross between stale Pringles and vintage tutti-frutti gum. A couple of reporters commented that it tasted basically like paper. We decided the best review came from cop shop reporter James Staley. “It’s one of those things that seem like it wasn’t meant to be eaten, but if you do, it won’t kill you,” James opined. So … I may have a lifetime supply of edible Easter grass. Maybe, if I ever decide to get really creative and ambitious, I could incorporate it as a garnish in an elegant nouveau cuisine dinner. Or an avant-garde art project. Or maybe I’ll contribute it to the backyard compost heap. It will be interesting to see if regional birds will decide to incorporate it in their nests. If neon blue, pink and lime-green nests show up in your neighborhood trees and cactus stands, you’ll know who to thank or blame. • • • A reminder that the old ways are still often the best came this week from Richard Miller, who had read a story of mine about the joys of kite flying that appeared in our weekly My Las Cruces publication and will show up again in the April issue of our Healthy U magazine. Miller told me he’s 92 now and doesn’t do as much kite-flying as he might like, but he still has fond, and detailed, memories of successfully launching some do-it-yourself, low-budget aircraft projects when he was growing up in Ohio. “I remember making kites out of newspapers. They were kind of flimsy, but they worked. We also made parachutes out of handkerchiefs. You tied a string to each corner and they caught the wind pretty well,” Miller recalled. You gather the equal-length strings together and tie them on something light-weight, like a cork, or maybe a small toy or action figure from your Easter basket. Drop it off a balcony or try to catch a breeze on a windy day (pretty easy this time of year). If you’d like to try a do-it-yourself kite project, you can do a little high-tech research to find out how to make some low-tech retro flying machines. I was amazed at how many results I got when I did an online search for “build a newspaper kite” and “handkerchief parachutes.” Unless you’re reading this online, you’re holding most of what you need right in your hands. I recommend the Sunday funnies or pages with lots of color pictures. I guarantee it’ll be more fun than edible Easter grass … though maybe you could use the grass for the kite’s tail. Happy Easter, everyone. May the day inspire a joyous season of rejuvenation and creativity. S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at 575-541-5450. Follow her on Twitter @DerricksonMoore

Holiday traditions celebrate diversity

Las Cruces Style — S. Derrickson Moore Holiday traditions embrace diversity By S. Derrickson Moore dmoore@lcsun-news.com LAS CRUCES— As we prepare to celebrate Easter, Passover and spring, I’m all in when it comes to new beginnings and rejuvenation, two themes that resonate this time of year. But I’m also in a thanksgiving mood, grateful that we are blessed to live in such an inclusive place, where diverse religious groups welcome one another to join in their celebrations and learn more about each other’s traditions and heritage. It’s a welcoming way of life that started with New Mexico’s first residents and has continued to this day. Though I was born elsewhere, I’ve learned enough about the history of my querencia (that wonderful, not-quite-translatable word that describes a soulmate connection between a person and his or her most beloved place in the world) to realize this welcoming spirit was not always honored with the respect and gratitude territorial hosts deserved. But somehow, as our national affiliations, territorial names and property ownership changed (and, indeed, the very concept of individual property ownership was altered), the inclusive spirit endures. From Pueblo peoples (who had their own internal skirmishes and then a brilliant revolt against interlopers who pushed too far) to Spanish Conquistadors and early Anglo-American entrepreneurial imperialists, the land we now know as New Mexico has been through a lot. But somehow, the bienvenidos mat is still out. We like and often love each other. We marry and elect leaders outside our own ethnic groups. We’re intrigued by diverse customs and traditions and will go out of our way to explore and help you celebrate and preserve your cherished way of life and maybe even find ways to incorporate some of it into our own. I think of the deep fusion of Old World Christian and New World American Indian and Mexican milagro beliefs represented in the Our Lady of Guadalupe celebrations at Tortugas Pueblo and their generosity in sharing their pilgrimage, ceremonies and feasts with the community. I think of a long-time Las Crucen with Northern European roots who worked very hard to establish what has become one of the world’s largest international mariachi conferences, helping to preserve a once-threatened genre for generations to come. “I live here; it’s my heritage, too,” she told me. I think of a dear amiga, citizen of Great Britain, born in China, who spent her early childhood years in a World War II Japanese concentration camp. New Mexico became her base to start an arts education program in adult and juvenile prisons that became a national model. And after the shock of 9-11, her first impulse was to arrange for us — two Christian Protestants — to pray for peace at a Las Cruces mosque. I think of actions big and small from those whose roots here stretch to antiquity to those who are relative newcomers. I think of a conversation with Temple Beth-el’s Rabbi Larry Karol, who shared with me his experiences after he was asked to sing at a Christian-Muslim wedding here. I think of the founder of my own Christian faith, a Jew from Nazareth who taught us the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. And I think of my spiritual mentor, contemporary prophet Tenny Hale, who taught me that as humans we must connect with our Creator and learn about the world and one another and strive to consider each individual’s needs as we strive to do onto others. I can’t think of a better place to learn lessons crucial to survival of our souls and ourselves than in our evolving city. Like all humans, we have our differences and our problems. But we also have fusion fiestas. Green chile wontons. Jewish mariachis from Rhode Island. Episcopalian Anglos building Día de los Muertos altars. Artists of all creeds and ethnic groups who eagerly and joyously embrace and express the diverse wonders of our querencia … As we celebrate new starts, resurrection, rejuvenation and exoduses to promised lands and free lives, I hope we don’t forget what is very special about the Land of Enchantment. And I hope and pray we’ll work to preserve and protect our unique multicultural heritage and the inclusive spirit that inspires it. May you have a joyous Easter, Passover, and advent of spring. S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at dmoore@lcsun-news.com; 575-541-5450. To share comments, go to www.lcsun-news.com and click on Blogzone and Las Cruces Style. Follow her on Twitter @DerricksonMoore.

Some thoughts about eggs ...

By S. Derrickson Moore dmoore@lcsun-news.com LAS CRUCES — It’s the time of year when they’re everywhere. In baskets. Showcased in dining room centerpieces. In seasonal displays, in exotic colors and patterns. Going splat on the ground, after falling from desert nests perched precariously in cactus or fragile bushes. Let’s talk about eggs. They’ve been a big part of my life for as long as I can remember. In fact, to be technical, quite a while before I can remember, to my very origin, like all the rest of us human beings. My mom, who, of course, contributed the eggs that would become my sister and brother and me, was very fond of birds, which meant that there were a lot of interesting eggs in our life. When it was still conventional wisdom that you couldn’t, mom knew that it was okay to carefully replace eggs in wild birds’ nests. Clumsy birds did okay on her watch and our city, river and grandparents’ lakefront homes were full of wings and chirping. She carefully preserved exotic broken shells for admiring kids in her classrooms and at home, where our very walls were painted in a shade named for her favorites: “robin’s egg blue.” For several years, we had a pair of passionate pet mallard ducks, who produced considerably more eggs that the wild guides indicated they should: hundreds each year, in fact. We confiscated what we could, but Daisy found ever more imaginative places to hide her nests and we raised several lost-egg generations of ducklings. When I think of eggs, a familiar image that often edges out frittatas and omelets and chile rellenos is that of my dad, bending over a pale greenish, frantically peeping egg, performing ducky midwife duties as mom stood by with a heating pad. A couple of decades ago, I begin to see eggs as a potential art form. For several years, I did annual features focusing on Easter eggs inspired by life in the Southwest. I’ve created Mimbres eggs, inspired by ancient pottery designs, and researched and adapted motifs from several other cultures, from the Pacific Northwest to Navajo, Hopi and Apache and assorted pueblo peoples. I’ve made fiesta eggs in bright primary colors with Borderland designs. I’ve even tried my hand at cascarones, dyed or painted egg shells filled with confetti, and sometimes small candies and gifts. My cascarone mentor, Preciliana Sandoval, is a maestro who has added her own innovation, a colorful extension that creates a kind of wand. It makes the tradition of cracking a cascarone on a deserving friend seem more like a blessing than an aggressive attack, a benediction of good wishes. Years ago, when I traveled with the Las Cruces delegation to our German Sister City of Nienburg, I took several of Preciliana’s cascarones along and the festive eggy piñatas were a big hit. These days, Preciliana is busy with her murals and other art projects and is finishing up a degree at NMSU, but if you’re lucky enough to spot her at an outdoor market in Mesilla or Las Cruces, be sure to stock up on any available cascarones. I usually can’t bear to break them, but if an irresistible confetti egg thwacking opportunity comes up, it’s nice to know I’m artistically armed and dangerous. And speaking of eggy artistry, I also have fond memories of the late, great, Leo Dohmen, the last of the Belgian Surrealists, who created some of his last great ouevres here when he lived in Picacho Hills, where his widow Mireille is still a resident. The egg inspired some of his greatest works, from a front yard sculpture to interesting paintings which starred eggs as Wild West desperadoes, with Stetsons and six-shooters. While you’re dyeing and decorating eggs with your kids and grandkids, ponder which came first. The chicken or the egg? My money’s on the egg. S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at 575-541-5450. Follow her on Twitter @DerricksonMoore

Ready for spring adventures?

NOTE: Spring has sprung since I wrote this ... this week there was an agreement by trees in my 'hood to sprout pink and white blooms. Weather's spring screwy--high 70s to low 50s this week, but mucho better than poor winter ridden East Coast. By S. Derrickson Moore dmoore@lcsun-news.com LAS CRUCES — Climate change seems to be running through its greatest hits list lately and inspiring trips down memory lanes scattered around the globe. A recent 24-hour period included an enthusiastic rainstorm, early morning fog and predictions of a Haboob-level dust storm with winds gusting to 65 mph. I drove home through a rain that seemed a cross between our August monsoons and the gentle, but persistent and ubiquitous, winter drizzle of the Pacific Northwest. Something natural in a rainforest, but strangely foreign in pre-spring barren high desert country. Early the next morning, I awoke to fluffy, isolated pockets of fog snuggling in valley nichos around my ‘hood, with more expansive misty clouds swaddling our mountain peaks. I thought of many, many Oregon early drives over mountain passes this time of year, descending from snow and drizzle to rain and fog, and the first signs of spring: giant trilliums, creamy white Mt. Hood daffodils. Despite all the warm winter days in the high 60s and 70s, spring seems later than usual this year. The roller coaster temperature rides, the snow and bitter cold that lingered in January and freezes that keep popping up before and after full-tilt sunny days … Leaves and buds and birds seem as confused as our bi-polar weather. And punching sporadically, like a vengeful cosmic broom that punishes rather than sweeps clean, come the sandstorms. People used to ask me when they could come visit at a time when they could pretty much be guaranteed to avoid the sandstorms. “Never,” I quipped, but these days, I’m not kidding. I’ve talked to natives, including old-timers who remember the Dust Bowl days, and there seems to be a consensus that the storms used to be worst during seasonal changes, mostly in the fall and spring. But all bets are off during climate change extremes. The worst sandstorm I’ve endured came a week before last Christmas, when a white-knuckle ride to the El Paso Airport put me in mind of Midwestern tornados and South Florida hurricanes (yes, the big ones). For miles, my car was pelted by tumbleweeds the size of golf carts and visibility, at times, faded to nothing and closed highways to the west of us for several hours. My Arizona amigos tell me our mega dust-ups are nothing in comparison to their Haboobs. If so, I never want to find out. And I’d just as soon skip any more experiences with earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. Intriguing though it was to watch online, I’d also like to avoid giant meteorite fly-bys; our test-flight sonic booms are more than enough. And speaking of things we CAN influence, I hope 2013 is a year in which we all look more closely at what we’re doing to our planet and resolve to take better care. As I’d expected, the world didn’t end in 2012, but neither did our issues with the environment and climate change. In late February, I was still waiting for the tardy pink blossoms to festoon my neighborhood trees, for the weeping willows that are my personal seasonal harbinger to send neon green streamers to glow against electric blue skies. I look for the promising little flowers to make their appearance in the orchards of friends, and then think the shy ones may know what they’re doing. They bide their time and fight to set their future fruits, by waiting until the destructive windstorm season passes, if it ever does. And on clear days, I turn my face to the sun, and wait for the reliable cactus blooms and wonder if it will be one of those rare desert springs that finally bring greater-than-usual rains — and floods. But also emerald green patches on our beige plains, and carpets of wildflowers and plants that we see only rarely. It’s time for seasonal adventures that come every year, but are never quite the same. Spring is always full of mysteries and milagros, especially in our fragile but stubbornly vital territory. S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at 575-541-5450. Follow her on Twitter @DerricksonMoore.

Plutopalooza

NOTE: Looks like Plutopalooza is on! I've heard from a city councilman, Ed Brozak from Steator, Illinois, Clyde's birthplace, who said they're all in for Plutapalooza north, and the Las Cruces Museum of of Nature & Science, and New Mexico Museum of Space History in Alamogordo say they're good to go to. A meeting is planned soon. I'll keep you posted. And thanks, Ed, for the beautiful "PLUTO 9" posters. I'm tracking down PLUTO PLANET DAMMIT! T-shirt, too. ¡Viva Pluto! S. Derrickson Moore Las Cruces Sun-News 256 W. Las Cruces Ave. P.O. Box 1749 Las Cruces, NM 88005 (575) 541-5450 dmoore@lcsun-news.com Follow on Twitter @DerricksonMoore www.lcsun-news.com LAS CRUCES — Let’s get busy. It’s almost time for Plutopalooza, and we have only about 17 months to get this fiesta off the ground, to coin an appropriately cosmic phrase. On July 14, 2015, the New Horizons probe, launched on Jan. 19, 2006, with Clyde Tombaugh’s ashes on board, will arrive at Pluto. Plutopalooza, which I first proposed in 2010, came to mind when I covered Clyde Tombaugh Day Feb. 9 at the Las Cruces Museum of Nature and Science, where they’re hoping to make the day an annual “signature event” of the new museum. It was a fun day, a great start and clear evidence that the spirit of Plutopalooza is still strong in our young ones (who built telescopes, in honor of Clyde, who did the same as a sky-watching Midwestern farm boy) and designed Pluto flags. I also met Clyde’s family members, friends and colleagues, along with astronomy buffs and fans of the legendary space pioneer and his work, which included, as we all know, the discovery of the planet Pluto on Feb. 18, 1930, “Clyde was my first boss, at my first job as an engineer at White Sands,” said Austin L. Vick, with the White Sands Historical Foundation. Vick’s group sounds like one of many organizations we’d like to involve in Plutopalooza, along with the Las Cruces Museum of Nature & Science, the NMSU Astronomy Department, the New Mexico Museum of Space History, the Space Mural Museum, and all the regional institutions named for Clyde, including an art gallery, elementary school and planetarium. If there are any doubters out there, I’d like to ask them how often the ashes of a man who discovered a planet in our solar system have actually traveled to that planet? Never! And since Clyde spent most of his life and raised his family here, we’re the logical place for the fiesta. It’s time to start brainstorming. We’ll need a site for a big screen viewing party to watch the first close images the probe sends back. We’ll need experts and astronomy’s big names to talk about what it all means. We’ll need technical advisers. I’d like to nominate Chas Miller, the NMSU astronomy graduate student who offered a presentation on the New Horizons mission at Tombaugh Day. He talked about Pluto’s five moons: Nix, Hydra, Charon, P4 and P5. I think we should have an international competition to rechristen P4 and P5, to help draw attention to Plutopalooza. I feel there should also be some effort to petition for reconsideration of Pluto’s status by those International Astronomical Union members who, at their still-controversial Aug. 24, 2006, meeting, defined the term "planet" for the first time, a definition which excluded Pluto and added it as a member of the new “dwarf planet" category. The logical scientist to spearhead this corrective course should be Neil deGrasse Tyson, who once championed Pluto’s demotion, but was a changed man after he profiled Clyde and interviewed members of the Tombaugh family and famous supporters of Pluto’s planetary status for “The Pluto Files,” a 2010 NOVA show on PBS. The Daily Show’s Jon Stewart summed up our love for the little planet: “We don't care what it really is. We just want to call it Pluto,” Stewart said. How about Stewart as Grand Marshal of the Plutopalooza parade? The possibilities are exciting. Pluto art exhibitions. Historical and scientific symposiums. A special event at the spaceport. A Pluto symphony. Pluto ballets and folklorico dances. Pluto operas and rock festivals. Pluto piñatas. Pluto green chile enchiladas. Pluto-inspired poetry and dramas. Pluto book talks by Tombaugh biographers. You get the idea, and I’ll bet many of you have some even better ideas. Send them to me, and let’s get this planetary ball rolling. ¡Viva Plutopalooza! S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at dmoore@lcsun-news.com; 575-541-5450. To share comments, go to www.lcsun-news.com and click on Blogzone and Las Cruces Style. Follow her on Twitter @DerricksonMoore.