V8 Juice at the Plaza

It's all about memory.   I plucked out a neglected bottle of V-8 from the refrigerator, checked its expiration date and had a cool glass.

It brought back memories of sitting on the Taos (NM) Plaza, a couple of times a week at one of the stands and instead of drinking coffee, had an iced V-8.  I drank it so slowly I could amuse myself, and write in my journal for at least an hour.

V-8 Juice

This is what I saw, if I looked up and out.

 

Taos (NM) Plaza

Moby Dickens Bookstore,  Bent Street (Taos Plaza)

When I wasn't sipping cold V-8, I was at Caffe Tazza at 122 Kit Carson Road drinking a cup of coffee, chatting with friends, new acquaintances and even visiting family members.

Coffee cup, great shape

Reminiscing about New Mexico is not something I commonly do as it was a year in my life that while not wasted was a mistake.

Aerial view of the Rio Grande River (via Wiki)

After roaming the United States, and abroad, I thought New Mexico would be an ideal place for retirement. Little did I know that I would hate adobe, the lack of water, the absence so striking of the Rio Grande's starvation and the strange notion of activities among some friends.

I promised my friend D, my regular Friday night date,  I would stay until we'd eaten in every restaurant in town, and its environment.

I promised a very close and dear friend in Santa Fe that I would look into moving closer to her.

I told myself I could stay, but then one year and perhaps a few days later,  warm and sunny, my friends said goodbye, Kathy helped me pack my car and I drove, slowly, with purpose, across the country, stopping along the way to see other friends, taking in the sights, and landing in Pittsburgh  one month later for the birth of my second grand-daughter.

Although I lived in Ranchos de Taos, a village immediately to the South of town, in a small, private cul de sac, I hadn't taken anything with me when I took that aeroplace except a large suitcase.  I had pipe dreams that places and people stay the same.  Neither does.  Taos had become the new Santa Fe, and Arroyo Seco, North of Taos, was now the place to live.

What I do miss are those friends, one of whom has been in my life for more than 25 years.  I also miss the cafe culture, the excellent food co-op, and V8 on the Plaza.   And I must admit I miss the local bookstore, something so sadly lacking in this county.

Memories, Dreams and Reflections: the value of a journal

Can we remember where we were in 2000?  Or 1990?  Or yesterday?

Sometimes I can; other times I can't find a landmark in my memory bank to take me to that time in my life I am struggling to locate.

Hurricane Katrina 2005 

Recently, someone asked me, "What were you doing 14 years ago?"  I only have a vague notion and suspect that summer I was in Peru.  I keep trying to find the key to open the door to that time in my life.

But in August 2005 I was in Raleigh, North Carolina.  I was enroute to Asheville, but never made it.  

When I left New York there was talk about a hurricane, but I never suspected I'd get caught up in it, indirectly, when North Carolina's coast was hit hard, and all the petrol stations were closed, and weather reports discouraged travel. 

I had a very good time in Raleigh, spent some quality time with one artist friend, discovered Askew Taylor but I disappointed myself and my working partner in Asheville when I didn't make it for our meeting.

C.G. Jung, Memories, Dreams and Reflections

Now if I had kept an active journal the way Jung did, I would have those keys to what was happening in my life. 

The Red Book, C.G. Jung

 And was he among the first to create an artist journal?

I often did keep a journal, but not always, and most recently I actually destroyed about ten journals.  I thought them too personal to leave for heirs.