Casa Otra Banda
El Rancho, New Mexico
December, End of the 2nd Millennium
Dear Friend,
This is about as scary as writing an end of year letter gets – it’s not just the end of a year, a decade, or a century, but of a millennium. How does a simple letter measure up to such a (human-created) seemingly momentous occasion? About the greatest extent of my mental grasp is to scan the century – when I try to go beyond and think that this closes an era that began in 1000, and that that was still what we call “The Dark Ages,” I really lose it. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve simply ranged over what has transpired this century, and found that it all will go into a human filebox labeled the “last century” is hard to believe – a century that began with no manned flight, with colonialism in Asia and Africa at its floodtide, a world in which cars were just at the edge of the social radar screen, a world in which most of my life has elapsed, and it seems all quite incredible. That the millennium of the Norman Invasion of England, of the Gutenburg Bible, of Shakespeare, is passing as well, that’s hard.
But you are not reading this (if reading it at all you are) for my dimestore philosophy, so with that opening, we abruptly crash back into the ordinary realm of what the year was like.
Out in this part of New Mexico, it was actually a pretty good year in many ways. Work, despite its many frustrations (and there were many), also had some bittersweet satisfactions. Life at the house has been filled with many rewards of the effort we have put into the place, and there has been some wonderful travels. We’ve been in good health, so when you add it all up, it’s been a year to be grateful for.
The year began with us in India, and just about everyone by now has waded through our two massive “reports” on that experience. Once you’ve done a trip like that, it never quite leaves you, and the reverberations come back in odd ways, and almost constantly. In the recent past there have been two occurrences. First, we saw the movie Earth, by an Indian filmmaker, now living in Canada, set in Lahore just as Independence was about to happen, and with it, the horrendous partition of the country, the ensuing bloodbath and uprooting that took place between Muslims and Hindus, and the creation of Pakistan out of a part of the India of the British Raj. Lahore was right on that partition line, and the situation there was certainly as ugly as anywhere. It was possible, having traveled there, to sense the madness that enveloped the country and the images remain with me. At the same time, the terrible cyclone hit the state of Orissa, on the Bay of Bengal – I had been there in 1978-79, and the stories of the complete chaos, ruin, and human suffering, far more extensive than some of our own natural disasters, was quite palpable, once you travel in India and appreciate how poorly most things work in the practical realm, even in normal times.
The year will end with us, if plans work out as expected, in Brazil, where I lived from 1979-82 (I have not been back since). In fact, we are going to be in Rio de Janeiro for the change of the millennia, and from all we have read, it is going to be the biggest public blast of any city in the world – I feel drawn in two directions – we cannot possibly miss such an event, but then again, do we want to be crushed by 4,000,000 people going collectively mad? Brazilians know how to party in a way that leaves citizens of every other country far behind. It should be quite an experience.
My job was strangely satisfying, but there were some heavy penalties. Unless you chose to completely ignore the news of the last year, you know that Los Alamos National Laboratory figured prominently in it because of alleged security laps, presumed spying that let China get our most advanced nuclear secrets, etc. At the moment, I won’t take any position on all those stories, and by and large, I have no special insider knowledge to judge how close on target those allegations were, but it certainly had an impact on my work.
I had been developing a major project to install a new badging (ID card) system at the Laboratory, to replace the system we had, which, to put it kindly, was the system from hell, and which I inherited. What you need to appreciate is that one’s security badge is a fundamental part of the culture at Department of Energy installations, and Los Alamos, as the oldest of them all, seems to have its own very particular culture about one’s badge.
What I was attempting to do, with the assistance of some able colleagues, was totally re-invent the way this was done, and oddly enough, my background as a librarian actually came in to play. Instead of simply producing a badge or security ID (even “simply” involves somewhat more than just physically fabricating a badge) we decided to build the entire badging process on what is, these days, called the corporate or enterprise information system – the entire ensemble of administrative, business, and personnel data required to operate a modern organization.
All the data that would support badging – personnel information (e.g., employment data, contractor information), personnel security (clearances), training records, as well as the badge information itself, would reside in that giant reservoir of data that is the enterprise system. Data would never be replicated – your name, or social security number, for example, would exist in one place, and one place only, and if it was needed, you would “grab” it from that one place. That also clarifies who owns what data, which means they are responsible for that data – you do not re-create (and possibly inadvertently alter) someone else’s data – you use it, and you rely on it, because they are charged with maintaining it. The next thing this all allows you to do is link the data, so that you can build “business rules” that support the policies and procedures of the institution. Therefore, if event A happens, and it is supposed to prevent event B, or enable event C, the linkage is immediate, and the consequences immediate. When you are working in one of the most sensitive nuclear installations in the world, that becomes critical. Finally, because data is in the enterprise, or institutional system, it is available to everyone who needs it, not hidden off in your own private little, standalone database. And with the setting of “authorities” you can give different people the right to view those data items they have the “authority” to see, and you keep them out of seeing other stuff. Perhaps you can see how powerful this approach becomes. For all the details, go to http://badge.lanl.gov and select at the top “Special Section.”
I had the opportunity, over the past two years, to develop the requirements for the system, to put together a competitive procurement process for the commercial badging system, to work with the enterprise information programmers at the Lab, to develop and document all the requirements, all the business rules, to coordinate with players across the entire Laboratory, and to benchmark with my counterparts at other Department of Energy (DOE) facilities around the country, and to, in the end, implement a system that is now probably the forefront approach of its kind in the entire DOE complex. The system went “live” on September 20, and life has been very hectic debugging it and dealing with countless unanticipated problems – all par for the course – but basically, it is working as intended. This represents, for me, the most exciting job challenge I’ve had of my entire career and I feel really good about what I have been able to achieve.
But I started out mentioning the security blow-up that put the Lab in the news earlier this year. How that tied into my work was that with all the bad press the Lab was getting, my Division Director (Security and Safeguards Division) was being pressured by the Laboratory Director, to get the system up and producing the new type badge. So the pressure multiplied many times over to accelerate our implementation schedule. We committed to a schedule I knew we could not meet, having had some experience with somewhat similar complex, developmental efforts before. In the end, the system went up about when I thought it would, though the level of work and pressure was even greater than I anticipated, and if we hadn’t been put under such pressure, it probably would not have been up until some time next year. It all took a toll. I was pretty stressed out from about March through October, and I am by no means out of the woods yet, but the very worst seems to be past. There are still an endless number of quirks and kinks to iron out, and slowly, sometimes excruciatingly slowly, they are being worked out. And, as seems so insanely typical of large organizations, this fiscal year (the fiscal year begins October 1) we have swung from an environment of security panic last year where money was available to do whatever needed to be done, to this year where everything is being massively cut back, and without any clear reason for the dramatic shift.
Turning to David, he has continued working on his project to resuscitate forgotten songs of Broadway and Hollywood, “popular” songs from the classic period of the 1920’s to the 1950’s. And now he is expanding out to the 1890’s for his latest effort. To date he has issued 6 cassettes in 3 volumes (two tapes per volume) and a CD which highlights the entire series. He tried his hand at constructing a Web site, and more exciting, worked with a group in Santa Fe that has created a Web site, Live from Santa Fe (http://www.livefromsantafe.com) with links to various artists, David included (click on “Forgotten Songs”). They even digitized two of the songs he recorded, so they can be played off the Web (if you have RealAudio free software) – although since these were done off the cassettes, the quality is not first class. Folks who like this kind of music, and the ones who do are quite passionate about it (but not always easy to find) have been thrilled with his work. He was even interviewed on our classical music station (from Albuquerque) for a one-hour lunch time program in November, and really did a fantastic job of explaining what he is doing and sampling cuts from his recordings. He also was invited to sing at a memorial service (to great acclaim) for the great songwriter Marshall Baear (Once Upon a Mattress) in Los Angeles, along with other greats such as Rosemary Clooney.
David’s other great love, which I have benefited from, is that he has become a serious art collector. The house is now filled with several types of art – serious paintings of works by artists who either live in, or have a significant New Mexico connection, drawings from the 17th – 20th century, some by quite significant European and American artists, textiles and fabrics, some nice rugs, and sculpture. I have gone in on a very few of these (a magnificent Nazca shroud, 7 feet by 2 feet, that dates from about the 5th century A.D., but most of what we have represents David’s growing passion for art. An exciting step we took this year, after many years of doodling around, is that we bought an outdoor sculpture that we really liked and it is mounted in front of the house, with a great view from the kitchen, dining room, and portal (veranda in New Mexico). We are now seriously contemplating a second outdoor sculpture, and the thought of having our own very small sculpture garden is very dreamy, since great sculpture gardens have always been one of my favorite hang-outs.
David’s art interest led him down another pathway, with as yet uncertain results. He has had an idea of opening up a “Kabinett” – a small gallery that would feature unusual earlier drawings by masters or those who were very top rate artists, even if not well-known. This would fill a niche in Santa Fe’s very active and improving art scene – it would be a very small, intimate place, with a rotating display of fine, unusual drawings. The idea was to work with one of Santa Fe’s top gallery owners. David has spent much effort this year discussing his ideas with people he respects in Santa Fe and beyond, and he has done some traveling to U.S. cities with the kinds of galleries he might coordinate with. At this point, it is not at all certain that the idea will fly, but it is an interesting concept and he has enjoyed exploring it.
One of the really exciting developments in these parts is that Santa Fe is keeps becoming a more superb venue, one of the absolute best in the U.S., for film. We currently have two studios that are devoted to innovative film programming, that go out and seek the kinds of films that are not being seen in most places – international productions from Third World countries and Europe, and repertory films – classics, forgotten masterpieces – with program directors who are passionate about film. One of the flashier events was having Wallace Shawn and Andre Gregory here for a re-showing of My Dinner with Andre, and a post-showing discussion with the two principles about the making of the film. Perhaps most exciting for the two of us was an incredible showing of Krystof Kiezlowski’s TV series, The Decalogue, originally made for Polish television in the late 1980s. It was never seen out of Poland before – the director of the Studio Screen 2 theatre at the College of Santa Fe, one of the two venues alluded to before – somehow got a hold of it, and also brought one of the lead actresses here to talk about the filming. The series is not even on video – and yet, this unknown series, not even made for the movies, in our opinion, was about the most exciting, beautiful, heart-penetrating, mature film-making we have ever seen. On top of all this, we have one of the best small film festivals in the U.S., the Taos Talking Picture Festival, which is in mid-April each year, and which we make a point of not missing.
The overall art scene expands also, with visual arts centers having opened this past year at the College of Santa Fe and the Santa Fe Community College. The former is the most exciting building, architecturally, of recent years in Santa Fe, designed by the renown Mexican architect, Ricardo Legoretta. The galleries are doing some very exciting stuff, increasingly breaking out of the provincial Southwestern/Western style, and showing major contemporary artists from around the world.
The excitement of living in this part of the world definitely continues. My dream of living in the West goes on. This despite all the terrible changes that are being visited upon the West, as the forces of sprawl and careless exploitation penetrate the remotest corners (a biweekly newspaper I subscribe to, High Country News, documents with intelligent and insightful articles just how vast the impacts are). My dream is being fulfilled in two ways – first, the place we actually live and how it connects me with that mythic concept of the West, and second, the places we can get to.
As perhaps indicated in a previous letter, we seem to be positioned so that we can go off in all sorts of directions, literally and scenically, and they are all amazingly different – straight north into the magnificence of Colorado’s southern Rockies; northwest into Utah’s southeastern red rock canyon country; south to the mountains of southern New Mexico and west Texas; northeast to lush grasslands; due west to magnificent formations in eastern Arizona and to Anasazi sites of western New Mexico – the variety is mind-boggling. We managed to do quite a bit this year in all directions – for example, a 4th of July weekend trip into the high mountains of southwestern Colorado’s San Juans (we camped at over 12,000+ feet in stunning, snow-banked, alpine tundra meadows), a Labor Day weekend to Petrified Forest National Park and Canyon de Chelly National Monument, summer camping in the most beautiful wildflower meadows of New Mexico’s Valle Vidal up near the Colorado line, and a mid-November camping and hiking trip to Guadulupe Mountains National Park in west Texas, where autumn colors and comfortable temperatures let us push the season well beyond what would be possible up where we live, to name a few high points This doesn’t count any number of hikes and explorations closer to home.
As to where we live, it keeps getting better. The place is like a tiny island of natural health. It makes me think of a trip we took over 10 years ago to Texas. We were exploring Galveston – one morning we got up very early and drove about 35 miles north, along the Gulf coast, to a tiny place called High Island. This is a little 2-acre tract owned by the local chapter of the Audubon Society (I think) that is ever so slightly higher than the rest of the flat coastal plain. As a result, birds returning from the south on their long migration back north spot this tiny tract and virtually collapse on it. It has the richest assemblage of migrating bird life (if you are there at the right time) of any place of its size, and avid birdwatchers from as far away as Europe come to it.
In a sense, our place is starting to feel a little bit like that. One can sense the health, the diversity of plant life. This fall I have never seen so much variety of birdlife, such delightful noise on cold mornings as birds find it a welcoming place, filled with all kinds of seed-heading plants with nourishment, spots to hang out and find what they need. The slow change of the seasons brings ever returning delights, and is a metaphor for the cycles of life. On winter mornings, the way the Pajarito Plateau lights up with the first sunlight transports me into my real dream of the American West in all its magnificence. The brilliant sky on a dark, moonless night is another wonder I never get accustomed to. Apparently only 10% of the U.S. population lives anymore where the Milky Way can be seen – we definitely are part of that 10%.
So, while we do not have the riches of New York’s or Washington’s museums, or their wealth of music and dance, we have quite enough interesting stuff going on, and we have so much more of other qualities I find important that I have no complaints, really. We all, I think, worry about what we are doing to our planet and our country, and so one thinks – can this last? what forces are conspiring to end it – if not intentionally, nevertheless, quite inexorably? But for now, for whatever miraculous reason, our little part of the world seems not to have been as hard hit as most of the country these days. We think we are quite lucky, but…
In fact, due to that “but…” we did go off for almost two weeks to Oregon this past summer, to explore it as a retirement alternative to staying in New Mexico. Unfortunately, at the political level, things are pretty discouraging in New Mexico, and connected with that, I think, is the fact that on almost every significant social index, New Mexico ranks literally at or near the bottom. In contrast, Oregon seems to have a political climate in which people feel they can take charge of their lives sufficiently to not be subject to impersonal forces, but to influence the quality of their life. We decided to take a look – we have no real plans to leave New Mexico when I retire, but we decided that it wouldn’t hurt to check out something quite different. Since this letter is getting quite long already, if you’d like to know more about what we found out, I’ve written up a “report” on that trip, and if you want it, and have e-mail, I’ll send it to you at your request.
Unfortunately, I must say, I don’t find myself feeling very good about the general direction of humankind, in the U.S. or in the world at large. When I look back over this century, it has been as brutal and unforgiving as any century, and would seem to put to flight any notions that we are on an ever-improving ascent of progress. Not only have we been terrible to each other, but despite our growing knowledge, we are taking much of the rest of the natural world with us – species rapidly going into extinction, global warming with the promise of ever more violent weather, technology outpacing our ethical capabilities in the field of genetics, and on and on. I find our political life increasingly discouraging – for the first time in my life I have actually had thoughts of not voting – something I could never imagine – and I doubt I will actually not vote, it is so ingrained in me. But I am sorely tempted by the awful path down which I see this country treading. I know it has looked very bad in previous eras, and always, someone eventually came along who revived one’s faith in public life – Abraham Lincoln, Franklin Delano Roosevelt – but it seems such a long, long time since such greatness, and one can no longer imagine any such person coming along again.
But enough of that. As long as there are friends who care about each other, and care about the world they live in, there is hope. Here and there I see exciting, hopeful signs, and in my own tiny world, I feel lucky and blessed. No one knows what the future holds, but one must continue to confront the experience of living with an openness to adventure, novelty, and connection to others – not only human, but the entire spectrum of life of which we are a part.
As we all head into a new millennium together, unsure of what it holds, let us hold onto the threads that connect us – I think it counts for a lot.
Love,
Ken