Are we entering a Golden Age

The Golden Age.

It’s a phrase I’ve been hearing as far back as I can remember, at very different points all over the globe. Often, according to those on the scene, I just missed it.

My hometown of Muskegon, Mich., was Lumber Queen of the World, the century before I was born. Hamburg, Germany, claimed to have as much to do with the Beatles phenomenon as rockin’ Liverpool ... a few years before I lived there.

I knew I was getting close. The Pacific Northwest was finally recognized as the epicenter of eco-consciousness, Grunge and coffee consumption shortly after I moved to Northern New Mexico. There, I was told, I was enjoying the last days of Santa Fe’s Golden Age. I did some seminal stories on Santa Fe Style, just as the trend was beginning to peak, and one of the last interviews with Georgia O’Keeffe, who died while I was living in the City Different.

This year, it hit me, as I was doing in-depth interviews with artists like Bob Diven, Irene Oliver-Lewis, Mark Medoff and others I’ve discussed Golden Age concepts with over the last two decades.

We’ve arrived. We’re smack dab in the middle of a Golden Age. Right here, Right now. In Las Cruces.

It’s been building for awhile. From what native and longtime Las Crucens have told me, I think it started, at least the arts and entertainment portion of the surge, sometime in the 1970s, with the founding and growth of theater groups, fiestas, performing arts, new venues, formation of professional and community arts organizations, a symphony and  a ballet company that attracted world-class artists.

Another surge started in the mid-1990s, about the time I was fortunate enough to arrive. Our little city was retaining, attracting and inspiring a world-class assortment of poets, fiction and non-fiction writers, playwrights, musicians, actors, filmmakers and visual artists.

We saw ourselves in artistic mirrors, in the words and music and visions of those who live here, and recognized the truth and beauty and heritage of our multicultural Borderlands. New fiestas to celebrate all this were born and the festivals we already had got bigger.

We paid more attention to our appearance. We’ve lovingly restored historical buildings. We made some bold new architectural statements, from the East Mesa to NMSU and Downtown Main Street. We finally tore down those ugly arches, created new theaters, federal and city buildings, plazas, museums, shops, schools and galleries downtown, and even got a start on establishing what could become a thriving Mesquite Street district of unique galleries, our answer to Santa Fe’s Canyon Road.

I’m not talking a Roman Empire, rise, decline and fall story here. We’ve been building up to this for awhile and we’re still at it. The “best places to live” lists have long-since discovered us and gotten the word out and we’ve attracted some remarkable people and enterprises without — so far, at least — losing our magical mix of arts, academic and agricultural resources, of wilderness, mountains, roadrunners, green chile, space pioneers and innovative artists.

I think we’ve reached a critical mass, a pinnacle, but I wouldn’t say we’ve peaked.

Here in high desert country, marathons are a better strategy than sprints, and I think we’re beautifully equipped for a long run, and getting better all the time.

That’s it. I’m calling it. Here we are: It’s the Golden Age of Las Cruces.

We should give more thought, very soon, to the big questions. Where did we come from? How did we get here? Where are we going? How can we preserve and nurture and develop our remarkable traits? How can we sustain and share and celebrate what makes us unique without losing our downhome querencia spirit and charm?

But just for a moment, let’s pause. Look around. Appreciate. Be grateful. And bask in our Golden Age.

S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at dmoore@lcsun-news.com, @DerricksonMoore on Twitter or Tout or call575-541-5450.

Irene Oliver-Lewis has new visions

When I moved to Las Cruces in 1994, it was a forgotten spot in the otherwise very nice little neighborhood around Pioneer Women’s Park.
It was the remains of what was once Court Junior High School. The old Pueblo Revival building still had lovely bones, but inside, there was devastation. The homeless, drug addicts and assorted mice, rats, cucarachas and miscellaneous vermin has made themselves at home for decades.
Not long after I first interviewed Irene Oliver-Lewis, recently returned to her home town after arts and education adventures in Japan, Korea, Okinawa and then Albuquerque, she invited me to tour CJHS.
“A lot of us loved this building and remember when it was beautiful. It can be beautiful again,” Irene told me.
In what now seems like the blink of an eye, but what was in reality some very labor-intensive years, those dreams became a reality and a home for Court Youth Center programs and eventually, for Alma d’arte Charter School.
During two decades of covering Irene’s adventures and plans, I discovered that fulfilling big dreams (or as she terms it: “dicho y hecho: said and done”) is her specialty.
And there’s a lot of fun to be had in the process. Fun gigs on the A & E beat, thanks to Irene, have included spending a day in a limousine with actor and educational advocate Edward James Olmos, who came at her behest to talk to area kids and speak at a CYC benefit.
And because of Irene, Court and Alma d’arte students always seem to have a booth and a presence at everything from brand new arts festivals to revivals of traditional celebrations on the Mesilla Plaza and Martin Luther King Jr. Day marches on Main Street. They make signs, silkscreen T-shirts and conjure all kinds of original art to celebrate diversity and the joy of our multicultural borderlands. They dance and sing and do impromptu performance art on the steps of the newly-restored Rio Grande Theatre. And if you look closely, you’ll see Irene’s always there somewhere in the mix, producing, directing, cheering everybody on.
I had a chance to meet her artistic dad Fred Oliver, and see some of the beautiful furniture and woodwork he created, at a WPA arts exhibit and in their downtown Las Cruces home. I shared the mega-watt pride beaming from her parent’s faces at the premiere of Irene’s play, “Ceciliasms: Dichos de mi Madre,” It’s a warm and funny tribute that I suspect most any Baby Boomer could identify with, but also offers an intimate look at what it’s like to grow up in Las Cruces.
Irene has generously shared insights and information, and her genius for bringing creative plans to fruition, with thousands of kids and countless adults. I’ve watched her in action in scores of community planning meetings for events and projects that have since become world-class institutions, from the Las Cruces International Mariachi Conference to area Día de los Muertos celebrations.
She’s introduced me to top flamenco dancers, visiting artists and arts experts and authors, arts advocates, singers, musicians, movie stars and filmmakers from around the world.
When I’ve been confused by something in my adopted homeland, my querencia, I know I can count on Irene to clue me in.
She gave me a recipe for capirotada and steered me to a restaurant with a great version of the Easter season treat. She arranged for me to meet Mesilla artist and historian Preciliana Sandoval and world-class papel picado maestro Catalina Delgato-Trunk.
She collected items and stories for fun dioramas and oral history projects that seemed to spark a new interest in regional history in several generations here.
CYC’s auditorium became a hot new venue for concerts, dances, ceremonies and theatrical presentations — filling the building and the community that surrounds it with new life, art, inspiration and meaning.
It was also the site for a healing experience at a time of national and deeply personal mourning. When our editor Harold Cousland died a few days after the 9-11 attacks, Irene offered Court’s auditorium for a memorial service.
I was sad to hear she’s leaving Court Youth Center, but glad to hear about her new dreams, which, as always, promise inspiration, creativity and lots of fun and adventure for all of us here in Las Cruces, and I suspect, more expansive venues as well. Read about some of her visions in today’s SunLife Artist of the Week feature.
S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at dmoore@lcsun-news.com. @DerricksonMoore on Twitter or Tout or call 575-541-5450.

Fun Times with Dad

When our new photographer Carlos Sanchez and I were traipsing around Main Street asking people to share memories of their most fun moments with their dads for Friday’s SunLife feature, we couldn’t help remembering some fond memories of our own.
I was surprised to find that several people we talked to described their favorite times with dad as work-related or experiences that many of us think of us stressful, like learning to drive.
But when I thought about it, and compared notes with my sister and brother, we realized that teachable moments were attached to many, if not most, of the best times spent with our dad and our maternal grandfather. (Dad’s father died when I was almost three years old, just before my brother was born).
Grandpa taught us to canoe and shoot bows and arrows and some of the finer points of fly-fishing.
Dad taught us to kayak and where to find worms, assemble a fishing rod and reel, bait a hook, and rig and cast a line. He explained how to load rifles and shotguns, how to break and walk with a loaded rifle, and most importantly, how we should NEVER, EVER point a gun at anything we did not intend to shoot.
That lesson was so ingrained in me, that I still cringed, generations later, when my son or grandson would point toy guns and water pistols at random targets.
Dad taught us to hunt woodcocks, pheasant and partridge, which our Brittany Spaniel, Duffy, obligingly pointed out for us, but which I never managed to bring myself to shoot. Like many Baby Boomers, being the first generation to be traumatized by the death of Bambi’s mother, I never really considered deer hunting.
But dad did teach us to wear bright orange and avoid any clothing that might remind hunters of the white tails of deer whenever we found ourselves in wilderness areas during deer hunting season.
Since we spent a lot of family time in wilderness areas, that bit of fashion advice may have been crucial to our survival to adulthood.
Dad taught us a lot about camping, which was on the agenda nearly every weekend when the weather was good, and several when it was lousy.
I learned to wear waders in icy rivers and fish in the rain, when the fishing was usually best. Dad taught me how to set a hook and clean a trout. Later, when I decided fishing was just an excuse for meditating around water, I filled my creel with wildflowers (which mom taught me to press) and books to read and notebooks for poetry.
Dad didn’t really teach me that, but he wrote poems, too, and taught us that it was cool.
I’ve never forgotten Dad’s announcement to mom when I wandered over to his battered old Smith-Corona typewriter at age 6, taught myself to type, and produced my first poem.
“Look, Doris, she’s taken up the family instrument,” Dad said.
Both he and mom were enthusiastic readers and witty and literate conversationalists who loved words and books. Long car trips (and there were a lot of those, getting to all those wilderness areas) were spent singing their extensive repertoire of songs with witty lyrics and lovely melodies. Dad knew many long poems and rambling epic ballads, and he shared those, too.
All three of his children grew up to be writers, and I think my parents’ love of words had a lot to do with this.
So, in our own way, our best times with Dad were spent learning useful skills.
Some of us are fortunate enough to have dads who helped teach us how to make our way in the world, doing things we love to do, and to show us a good time in the process.
If your dad is still around, it’s the perfect time to say, “Thank you.”
Happy Father’s Day.
S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at dmoore@lcsun-news.com. @DerricksonMoore on Twitter or Tout or call 575-541-5450.

AdobeHenge, Billy the Kid Statues and more from Las Cruces' Renaissance Guy, Bob Diven

By S. Derrickson Moore
dmoore@lcsun-news.com
@DerricksonMoore on Twitter
LAS CRUCES >> Bob Diven is at it again.
The innovative artist has given Las Cruces a street art festival, not one but two RenFaire dragons and a “ratapult,” several paintings, murals, sculptures, plays and musical compositions, an artistic bus stop, and some extraordinary performance art. And now he has some exciting new projects in the works.
He’s going for the bronze, with a series of life-sized Billy the Kid sculptures. He just finished a monumental red-white-and-blue mural on a Mesilla adobe barn just in time for Memorial Day. And he hopes Las Cruces residents may soon point with pride to an adobe replica of Stonehenge and a unique cow with New Mexico Zia spirit.
“I’ve completed my life-sized sculpture of Billy the Kid, and am now accepting subscriptions (pre-sales) for a limited edition of 13 bronzes that will be cast by Shidoni Foundry in Tesuque, N.M.,” Diven said.
The iconic outlaw stands 72.5 inches in a pose inspired by the famous photo of Billy (also known as William Bonney and by assorted other aliases) in a rustic outfit with revolver, rifle, weathered hat and neckerchief.
Whatever the fate of the baker’s dozen of Billy sculptures, Diven is not about to rest on his laurels.
“I’ve submitted a proposal for a large public art destination called “AdobeHenge” to the Bureau of Land Management, after talks with the New Mexico Farm & Ranch Heritage Museum. This is a long-range bit of creative fun that could be a very nice thing for the museum and the town, I think,” opines Diven.
In a proposal, Diven envisions the work as 12 adobe “trilithons” built of stabilized adobe brick in a 100-foot circle constructed on a hill overlooking the museum. Each pair of 13-foot-tall adobe columns will support “a massive wooden timber.”
He thinks the project could become a tourist attraction and a site for weddings, celebrations and public events.
“This ‘AdobeHenge’ idea seems uniquely appropriate for where he is proposing it be located. With the signature centerpiece of our newest national monument as a backdrop, our native building material will rise out of the desert landscape to interact with our abundant sun and beautiful environment. Bob always brings a sense of fun to what he does, but watch out!  There’s usually a nugget or more of something to be learned wrapped in the fun,” said Las Cruces City Councilor Greg Smith.
Diven keeps the benefits in mind when doing community projects.
“I like to think of as many ways as possible to benefit as many people as possible. I’m not counting on it being just publicly funded. This could be a private-public project with activities and workshops for the public, maybe making adobe bricks on site. I’ve met with civil engineers and Pat Taylor, a local adobe specialist, and I’ve gotten some pleasantly positive email responses from members of the city council, county commission and state legislature,” Diven said.
State Sen. Mary Kay Papen, D-Las Cruces, District 38, is thrilled with the project, in fact.
“I just think it’s wonderful when we have local artists who are interested and doing things and understand us and our culture,” said State Sen. Mary Kay Papen, D-Dist. 38.
Bob has a few other monumental plans in mind.
“While I’m dreaming of public art projects, I’m releasing word about my ‘New MexiCow’ sculpture idea that I’d like to see installed on the NMSU campus,” Diven recently announced in an online bulletin to fans, friends and patrons.
He enclosed a postcard image of a large white cow atop a towering cattle guard. Onlookers would be able to enjoy a surreal view of the sky through a Zia design structure constructed within a large opening in the bovine’s mid-section: New Mexico’s very own hole-y cow.
While we’re waiting, there are several fruits of Diven’s artistic labors that are available for public viewing.
Visitors to Mesilla can check out his mural on the door of the vintage adobe barn of Joni Gutierrez and Lowell Catlett, on Calle de Parian, just west of the Mesilla Post Office.
“It’s the second mural he’s done for us. We love his work,” said Gutierrez, who also commissioned a large “Seedling” sculpture by Diven, which stands nearby.
“They wanted street art on their barn. It’s all done in tempera paint, so it will weather and fade and eventually disappear,” Diven said.
There are some “ghosts” left on Main Street from the recent third annual Avenue Art New Mexico street-painting festival, which Diven, also a multi-award-winning street artist, founded in association with the Las Cruces Downtown Partnership.
“It was crazy windy, but our artists stuck it out. I was very pleased with the growth of the event, especially the growth in the participating artists who are figuring out how to take advantage of the medium,” Diven said.
You can see the abstract figures in bright primary colors cavorting on the bus stop he created near Las Cruces City Hall and Branigan Library.
And a new, smoke-breathing, automated dragon, the latest reincarnation of Diven’s “Magellan,” created in collaboration with NMSU engineering students and faculty, should be ready to greet time travelers at the 2014 Doña Ana Arts Council Renaissance ArtsFaire in November. The first Magellan entertained faire-goers for decades, along with Diven’s other RenFaire creation, Robert the Ratcatcher, who spins tales and hurls faux rats with a special catapult he created.
Diven also designs and makes his own armor and is working on a plane. He’s acting in a TV pilot for a comedy currently being shot in Truth or Consequences. He’s finishing up a short film of his own, too, and is preparing for “a commissioned combat painting for a fighter squadron out of Maryland. They flew A-10 Thunderbolts out of Afghanistan.”
It’s clear that there’s no hyperbole in his designation as “Las Cruces’ Renaissance Man.”
“The Mesilla Valley Concert Band premiered my new ‘Siblings March’ for band at their last concert. I’m still doing paintings and commissioned portraits: they’re my bread and butter. And some commercial art, too. I just designed a coffee logo,” he said.
If you’d like to find out more about obtaining your very own life-sized Billy bronze, or learn more about his other projects and performances, visit online at bobdiven.com, facebook.com/bob.diven, call 575-642-7445 or write him at Bob Diven, P.O. Box 2781, Las Cruces, NM 88004-2781.
S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at 575-541-5450.

Fun with Bob Diven

Bob Diven, I discovered shortly after moving to Las Cruces, is everywhere. Designing and building his own airplane. (He’s a licensed pilot.) Kneeling on the hard pavement at the Las Cruces Farmers and Crafts Market, creating a masterpiece. (He’s won top awards in street art competitions here and in Denver and El Paso and founded a festival to share his skills with new generations.) Officiating at a colleague’s wedding. (He’s an ordained minister and established his own “secular church:” the Church of Bob. He’s an erstwhile missionary currently focused on dinosaurs and evolutionary truths.)
I first admired his paintings at exhibits around town and in his downtown studio. Then I found him performing with a group at a friend’s St. Patrick’s Day party and learned he’s also a composer, singer, musician and recording artist. (His CDs are among my most prized possessions, and it’s hard to imagine feeling anything but cheery while listening to gems like “Steel Rail/Split Skunk Blues” and “I’d Like to Paint You Naked.” (Several generations of area women have said, “Sure, Bob.”)
“I write original songs about life, love and road-killed animals. But I also compose for theater and film, orchestra and band. I play guitar and Irish percussion and sing,” Bob notes on his website. (He’s also performed his original works with the Las Cruces Symphony.)
I’ve been entertained at several of his plays. Who do you know in the world who could write the play, design its sets and costumes, compose and perform the music and handle the lead role? In his play “John Singer Sargent: Painting Madame X,” he did all that, while painting an impressive portrait on stage. (And Bob, a talented commercial artist whose creations include really cool beer and coffee labels, also designs promotional posters for his own productions and those of others.)
I’ve watched him play an amorous singing dinosaur in another of his own plays, “Extinction,” and deliver a strong and touching performance as Captain von Trapp in “The Sound of Music,” one of his many starring roles in regional comedies, dramas and musicals.
I’ve sat on hay bales at Young Park discussing the mysteries of the cosmos with Bob while he was setting up his “ratapult” at RenFaire. He designed and built the device, of course, along with armor and assorted medieval weaponry, costumes and accoutrements.
He and his works have starred in fiestas, on stage and screen. He’s worked in many capacities in movies and produced a few of his own.
He does a weekly editorial cartoon for us. He’s also been my first go-to expert in two cases when possible new photos of Billy the Kid surfaced. He probably knows Billy’s features as well as anyone in the world. He’s done numerous portraits and sculptures of the Kid, most recently for a life-sized series of bronze sculptures.
Many of us are still wistful about a larger-than-life project Bob proposed before downtown revitalization projects reopened Main Street. He envisioned giant statues of Sheriff Pat Garrett and Billy at each end of what was then the Downtown Mall, poised for daily, high noon laser light show shoot-outs. Giant Billy was to have a revolving restaurant in his hat, a kiva fireplace in his derriere.
I have a feeling historians and future generations will rebuke us for not acting on the downtown Diven-Billy option, sort of like Santa Fe regrets turning down Georgia O’Keeffe’s offer to paint a museum plaza mural, in the days before she became the City Different’s most famous icon.
But we still have some opportunities to acquire some municipal marvels, including AdobeHenge and maybe at least one of the Billy bronzes. I hope we do it. And stay tuned for more wonders from the fecund brain and restless soul of Bob.
“I fall in love all the time,” he told me recently. “I guess it’s part of always being on the watch for beauty of all kinds.”
S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at dmoore@lcsun-news.com. @DerricksonMoore on Twitter or Tout or call 575-541-5450.

Where are the hummingbirds?

Nothing’s humming on the back patio this spring.
Where have all the hummingbirds gone?
I admit that I was a little late putting up my feeders this year, but I’ve come to rely on some unsubtle alerts from the little guys themselves. In past years, they’ve buzzed my front windows to remind me. Or even resorted to a kind of pulled-punch dive bomb maneuver on my amigos and me, if we have the audacity to sit on the patio near an empty feeder hook, or have failed to refill feeders in a timely manner.
Sometimes they’ve just hovered wistfully, like flying puppies looking for cookie bones. One way or another, they managed to vibe me until I took action and filled the little red-blossomed feeders and kept those nector cocktails coming.
And the minute the feeder went up, I had steady customers until fall migration time. Lots of customers. In fact, there was a little waiting area in the nearby pine tree that was generally filled with perchers waiting for their turn at my fly-in café.
But this year, nothing. Nada. Not a single customer. I’m using the same mixture of cane sugar and water with no artificial colors or additives. The feeders are in the same place. No menacing feral freelance cats in the ‘hood.
I started asking around and found that the hummingbirds don’t seem to be showing up at other favorite haunts this year. At the Wild Birds Unlimited  shop in Las Cruces, others said they’d been hearing reports that the little birds are absent or fewer are turning up at formerly crowded favorite places.
I’ve been looking around to see if anything in the immediate ecosystem has changed. A neighbor who has been gone for some time has returned, but since she’s a super gardener and always generous with birdseed and hummingbird feeders herself, that shouldn’t do anything but increase our reputation as a fast food mecca for some of our favorite birds.
And there are winged creatures hanging out in our yards: the usual suspects, like quail families, a stray pigeon or two, and at least one roadrunner who regularly makes the rounds in the still undeveloped patch of desert over our back fences. A bumper crop of finches.
The bats seem early this year, like spring and summer in general, and all related blooms and vegetation.
There are a few other indications that things have changed. I haven’t seen many rabbits this year, in the ’hood’s last little wilderness area, but I have seen a lot more joggers, hikers and people walking with their dogs. I’ve been pondering how the dogs and humans might be daunting the bunnies, and I wonder how much even a small population increase impacts the fragile high desert ecology.
The goings on in my own little neighborhood make me grateful for National Monument designation for the Organs, the majestic peaks that seemed to have been a beacon to so many of us, a signal and symbol of the region’s unique beauty.
Having spent much of my adult life in Oregon, one of the world’s most eco-conscious territories, I remain concerned that too many of us still do not recognize how much protection we need for the Land of Enchantment.
 But I hear from those who are: opponents of fracking on BLM lands near Chaco Culture Historical National Park.
And those who point to nuclear storage facility leaks near Carlsbad and protest that our state has already had more than its fair share of nuclear age hazards, at Trinity site, and with the Los Alamos nuclear waste sites related to development of the atomic bomb.
I think about my late friend Hector Telles, who urged us to remember that “we all live downstream.”
And I wonder if the consequences of our global acts are impacting our own backyards in more ways that we’ve noticed. And I’m wondering where the hummingbirds are, and if they’re OK.

S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at dmoore@ lcsun-news.com. @DerricksonMoore on Twitter or Tout or call 575-541-5450.

Fun with dad

When our new photographer Carlos Sanchez and I were traipsing around Main Street asking people to share memories of their most fun moments with their dads for Friday’s SunLife feature, we couldn’t help remembering some fond memories of our own.
I was surprised to find that several people we talked to described their favorite times with dad as work-related or experiences that many of us think of us stressful, like learning to drive.
But when I thought about it, and compared notes with my sister and brother, we realized that teachable moments were attached to many, if not most, of the best times spent with our dad and our maternal grandfather. (Dad’s father died when I was almost three years old, just before my brother was born).
Grandpa taught us to canoe and shoot bows and arrows and some of the finer points of fly-fishing.
Dad taught us to kayak and where to find worms, assemble a fishing rod and reel, bait a hook, and rig and cast a line. He explained how to load rifles and shotguns, how to break and walk with a loaded rifle, and most importantly, how we should NEVER, EVER point a gun at anything we did not intend to shoot.
That lesson was so ingrained in me, that I still cringed, generations later, when my son or grandson would point toy guns and water pistols at random targets.
Dad taught us to hunt woodcocks, pheasant and partridge, which our Brittany Spaniel, Duffy, obligingly pointed out for us, but which I never managed to bring myself to shoot. Like many Baby Boomers, being the first generation to be traumatized by the death of Bambi’s mother, I never really considered deer hunting.
But dad did teach us to wear bright orange and avoid any clothing that might remind hunters of the white tails of deer whenever we found ourselves in wilderness areas during deer hunting season.
Since we spent a lot of family time in wilderness areas, that bit of fashion advice may have been crucial to our survival to adulthood.
Dad taught us a lot about camping, which was on the agenda nearly every weekend when the weather was good, and several when it was lousy.
I learned to wear waders in icy rivers and fish in the rain, when the fishing was usually best. Dad taught me how to set a hook and clean a trout. Later, when I decided fishing was just an excuse for meditating around water, I filled my creel with wildflowers (which mom taught me to press) and books to read and notebooks for poetry.
Dad didn’t really teach me that, but he wrote poems, too, and taught us that it was cool.
I’ve never forgotten Dad’s announcement to mom when I wandered over to his battered old Smith-Corona typewriter at age 6, taught myself to type, and produced my first poem.
“Look, Doris, she’s taken up the family instrument,” Dad said.
Both he and mom were enthusiastic readers and witty and literate conversationalists who loved words and books. Long car trips (and there were a lot of those, getting to all those wilderness areas) were spent singing their extensive repertoire of songs with witty lyrics and lovely melodies. Dad knew many long poems and rambling epic ballads, and he shared those, too.
All three of his children grew up to be writers, and I think my parents’ love of words had a lot to do with this.
So, in our own way, our best times with Dad were spent learning useful skills.
Some of us are fortunate enough to have dads who helped teach us how to make our way in the world, doing things we love to do, and to show us a good time in the process.
If your dad is still around, it’s the perfect time to say, “Thank you.”
Happy Father’s Day.
S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at dmoore@lcsun-news.com. @DerricksonMoore on Twitter or Tout or call 575-541-5450.