Casa Otra Banda
El Rancho, New Mexico
December 2002
Dear Friend,
As seems to happen every year around this time, there is a sense of incredulity on my part that another year has come and gone – the sense of the years flying by, like the leaves fluttering down from the trees – a recent memory – definitely has a sobering effect on my reflections about the course of life itself.
This was the year I turned 60, something I believe I handled with relative equanimity, all things considered. At one and the same time, I find it an age that simply seems beyond anything I actually feel, since when I was young, 60 was considered a very advanced old age. On the other hand, thinking back to high school, college, and graduate school days is easy and the mental distance back to them seems so short, that I intensely feel I am not much older than I was during that youthful time. I seem to be in a perpetual disconnect between the thought of my chronological age, and my mental/emotional age, and I think that is actually a good thing. I tend to not “think old” and would rather ere on the side of still pretending I am something of a kid than placing artificial limits on myself based on an attitude that “people my age just don’t do that.”
Speaking of turning 60, David really pulled out all the stops to surprise me with a wonderful shared experience to celebrate my birthday. He took me on another in a series of birthday “mystery trips” that he’s been doing since 1987, but this one topped all the others. I didn’t know where I was going until we got to the Albuquerque airport – to the Washington, DC area, for a journey down nostalgia lane, with a few new ingredients thrown in. We circled the Washington area, first to the Maryland Eastern Shore, then the Virginia Eastern Shore, the Virginia Tidewater, the Northern Neck, and ended in Washington, DC. Along the way, the occasional visit to a special friend or a relative, to places we had found special when we lived in Washington, and some new places to explore. It all ended, like the fireworks display, with a magnificent blow-out: my brother and sister-in-law came up from Chapel Hill, NC, to share the final weekend with us, followed by a very special surprise party with a number of friends who traveled from long distances to be present. So, if you can make turning 60 so pleasant, I guess there is nothing to be afraid of!
Right around the very same time, I began a new job at Los Alamos – an exciting change from what I had been doing, and to give it a decent commitment, I pushed back my retirement plans, which were originally going to be around the end of this year or by the first quarter of 2003. Now I am thinking more like mid-year 2004, if all goes well. I was appointed as one of 5 “Senior Security Advisors” – a totally new position intended to provide a liaison between the various Lab programs, particularly the scientific ones, and security. These Advisors are assigned to each of the Directorates of the Lab – the top organizational level under the Director and his staff. We advisors operate on the “deployed” model in which, though we work for the Security and Safeguards Division, we actually are out there with our customers – namely, everyone within our Directorate. I even got my first choice – the Strategic Research Directorate, where much of the basic scientific research carried out at the Lab takes place – with my science education and work experience, I felt it would be a good fit, since once of the on-going problems is the cultural divide between scientists and security personnel. My thought was that a security person who looked and felt like a scientist would be a plus, and I was able to sell the argument.
What I like about the job is the variety – I work with people at every level of the Directorate, and am available to assist with security issues across the entire spectrum. This is a job where no ruts form, because every day or week, the issues change, and come from totally unpredictable directions. Also, I have, for the first time, exposure to the “real” work of the Lab – scientific research, the reason the Lab exists, even if one accepts that a considerable portion of that research is intended to further the nuclear defense of the U.S.
Furthermore, the position entails no supervision of people, virtually no administrative or budgetary obligations, in short, none of the aspects of a fairly responsible position that make it so burdensome to so many. Over my career, I have had my share of challenges, but fundamentally, I am pleased that my last job before retirement is likely to be one I feel good about. I was so utterly ready for a change, so desperate to leave what I had been doing – for many, many reasons – that this came at the perfect moment. I truly was about at the end of my rope.
The larger world and national picture, I’m afraid, for me at least, is not quite so upbeat. The terrorist threat exists and I am not sure we have much, if any, of a handle on it or a clear plan for responding to it. The immediate responses are one thing, but understanding the deeper and longer term threat – well, that is another matter. Misery, suffering, environmental degradation is global, and prospects are not encouraging. On the national scene, my views seem to be very out of sync with most Americans, judging by opinion polls and elections (well, those who bother to vote), and I sometimes wonder what planet I am living on. I mostly feel I am almost totally unrepresented, that there is little chance that anything I care very passionately about has much of a chance of succeeding, politically. It goes without saying that the recent elections were a depressing affair for me, since so much that I believe is out of whack is only likely to get far worse: undoing most environmental progress we have made in the last 30 years (what we have now, I believe, is massive environmental vandalism on a national scale), civil rights threatened, health care needs unaddressed, poverty and education issues languishing. The advanced industrial nations are going one way, we are going another. It’s a sad and depressing time for me.
Taking a broader perspective, I find that as the years pass, I understand current and past history even less. It seems such an unmitigated story of massive suffering (the 20th century perhaps the most awful in all of human history – how’s that for “progress”?) – often at the hands of our fellow human beings – that the more I seek explanations, the more empty-handed I come up. That seems counterintuitive, because we assume that being around, aging, is synonymous with acquiring wisdom, but I seem to be acquiring stupidity about the world I live in. On the other hand, I take comfort from hearing some of the words of Benjamin Franklin in a recent PBS special about him – in his old age he seemed to reached the same state of perplexity about the human condition that I have been feeling.
Some of this spilled over into the immediate world around me. This summer, in particular, seemed one in which a “world out of joint” came home – forest fires, filthy smoky, hazy air, hot temperatures beyond anything I can recall, severe drought, constant wind – everything, weatherwise, seemed thrown off course, and we wondered if summer would ever end! This was such a change from what always seemed like a normal summer in northern New Mexico – brilliantly blue skies, afternoon thunder showers, with sparkling clearing towards evening, calm days, crystal clear air with distant mountains seemingly within grabbing distance. The fall was a welcome change – it cooled off, finally (though still seeming warmer than “normal” (whatever that is these days) – but plentifully rains came and all are hoping for a wet winter, with snow building up in the mountains – the key factor for adequate year-round water supplies.
With the return of cooler weather, has come an almost metaphorical view of life – speaking of aging once more, I find it immensely comforting to be caught up in natural cycles, which is why I am so glad to be in a place with strongly demarcated seasons. As I observe, and experience, the changes, as I look at birth and decay, my own acceptance of my life as being part of these larger cycles and of following the same developmental pathways is immensely comforting. Seasonal and even geological cycles are so clear here!
I put less effort into vegetable gardening this year, but overall, the place is maturing and really beginning to have a nice, grown-in feel. We’re enjoying it more and struggling a bit less, despite all the challenges of weather. With the ample rains of the past few months, the place took a terrific turn for the better. Though I did not put in a real vegetable garden this year, still, the asparagus patch is well-established and producing wonderful spears each April; I did put in some garlic, tomatoes, basil, and peppers. A well-established set of herbs was also nice to have.
David continues to collect art – both old master drawings, generally 18th and 19th century, but also some reputable contemporary painters who have a New Mexico connection. I continue to wonder where we’re going to put the results of his seemingly unquenchable collecting itch, as all our walls are increasingly papered with art. But it is certainly giving me an experience I’ve never known before. I’d probably still have glass-covered museum posters on the walls if it weren’t for David’s expensive hobby!
Our annual “arts party,” held the last Sunday in September each year (this was the 6th year), was a great success. Big, varied turn-out, and the vibes were very positive. We’ve had terrific weather every year, and the party itself reminds us that what particularly distinguishes Santa Fe is the human element. For a small city (population ~65,000) the number of really accomplished people – people with a national reputation – is quite phenomenal. I read a fascinating book about the making of Santa Fe – The Myth of Santa Fe – which brilliantly explained how everything that we know today as Santa Fe – the architecture, the manifestations of the “three cultures” (Native American, Spanish, Anglo) is largely the result of a consciously manufactured myth that took off shortly after 1900. It made me realize that though I didn’t realize it was a myth, it was that aspect that drew me here – I simply didn’t know how much it was manufactured and not all that long ago. But fascinating as that discovery was, it was not disturbing so much as intensely interesting. For in the meantime, I’ve come to like Santa Fe for its contemporary way of life – the gorgeous setting, the dynamic, engaged population, the fascinating people who make this such a rich, satisfying place to live, the easygoing yet sophisticated nature of personal interactions. And the annual arts party is a celebration of all that. Besides, many people in the arts have struck up productive acquaintances at these parties, and so we feel we are giving back to the community a little of what we draw from it.
This raises an interesting question. We’ve really given serious consideration to our future, especially what happens after I retire. We’re pretty committed to staying in the area (despite New Mexico’s perpetual ranking at the bottom of almost every significant social and economic indicator). While there are a lot of development issues for Santa Fe, and it is not always handling them well, when we look around the country, I can’t say that anywhere else has done a notably better job of dealing with issues of growth, sprawl, environmental degradation. And now that we have friends and acquaintances, and more and more cultural riches are coming Santa Fe’s way, it seems that we should not make radical changes at this stage. But what we are seriously considering is moving in to the one lifetime care facility in Santa Fe – we’ve been making visits, doing our research, and think it might make the most sense. In an expensive town like Santa Fe, it turns out to be the most cost-effective option, and it holds a strong card that is practically unique amongst these kinds of places – it is smack dab in the center of Santa Fe, rather than way outside the city limits where connecting with the excitement of a lively place becomes difficult – such places can quickly seem to be a kind of golden cage. So, if we moved in, we could literally step out of our apartment and have the center of town right at our doorstep. That counts for a lot with us. We’re not sure when we would move, but we’re roughly considering 1-2 years after I retire.
David has focused on a major project since practically the beginning of the year – he is writing a book, with a colleague in Washington, DC, on American popular song, 1950-2000, bringing forward Alec Wilder’s classic that covers 1925-1950. An outline, several chapters, and some sample song analyses have been prepared, and the major effort for the latter part of 2002 has been directed towards lining up a publisher. Some major publishers have expressed enough interest to ask for what he has put together so far, and he has lined up several people with stellar reputations in the field, to serve as references. Still, the bottomline is to get a major publisher to make a formal commitment to the effort. Meanwhile, it has been exciting and fun. Everyone agrees it is an important topic, that no one has tackled it in quite the same way, and deserving of being published. But as the old saying goes, “that and a quarter will get you a cup of coffee.”
Our outdoor experiences were not quite as exciting this year as in past years, because for about half the summer, all the public lands we could get to were either on fire or closed because of the severe threat of fire. This eased off somewhat, and we did make a few trips, but this was the first year I did not backpack at all – I still hope to resume that, but the key issue is finding people I can do it with – David stopped several years ago for medical reasons. We returned to Crested Butte, Colorado for a hiking weekend – something we enjoy year after year, since it is situated in some of the most stunning mountain country anywhere. We also used the land of friends of ours near La Veta, Colorado, another beautiful area, and managed a fine camping/hiking trip down to Lincoln County, New Mexico. With a friend, I did a spectacular trip in early October to Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument in southwestern Utah. Our party of 8 was led by some staff of the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance – one of the really active environmental groups trying to preserve some magnificent areas in southern Utah as permanent wilderness (an uphill battle these days). I got into some incredibly spectacular canyons and did things I’d never tried before – stemming, chimneying, and the like, through narrow “slot” canyons. This was a real high point of the year.
We also made long weekend trips to Denver and Los Angeles, and a thwarted one to Sedona, Arizona (it wound up being an exploration of the area around Flagstaff) because this also turned out to be the year of car problems. We have two aging subcompacts, one now in its 14th year, the other in its 10th. It was the “newer” one that really acted up, leaving us stranded near Winslow, Arizona the weekend we were driving to Sedona. It cost us a fortune, and several more trips to Arizona, to get it “fixed” and truth be told, it’s never been the same again, so we know before too long we’ll have to break down and start replacing our transportation investments – with what is not entirely clear, for we haven’t quite defined the way of life we are preparing for, but we’re giving it a lot of thought.
Strangely that leads to thoughts in another department. My parents are now well along in years, and I consider myself fortunate indeed to have them in my life, and most importantly, that they have each other still. But while mentally they are spry and very much with it, physically they are at that point where sort of like cars, things are wearing out. I visited them in Florida 3 times this year, and with my brother, started really presenting to my folks the need to think about leaving their condominium for a residential arrangement that includes a level of real assistance – not necessarily “assisted living” but a set-up which is geared to people like themselves and which, thereby gives them the wherewithal to continue to live independently, but in an environment where their needs are well understood. And it is bearing fruit. My parents have committed to transition from their present arrangement to one more suited to what they need, and are planning for the change over the next few months. It is a difficult step, emotionally, and I am not downplaying that, but my hope is that once the difficult passage is made, it will be obvious, to them, that it was a prudent step. And being so far away, I feel somewhat relieved that they have a set-up where someone is aware what the situation is and is staying on top of it.
Our travels were somewhat modest this year. We did go to Mexico over the Christmas closure last year –we selected Queretaro and San Miguel de Allende (they are one hour apart by bus). While San Miguel is well known, Queretaro, a real colonial jewel, is almost totally unknown by most American visitors. We spent the bulk of our time in Queretaro and some distant villages containing incredible colonial churches in a distant corner of Queretaro state. Despite its being so popular and well-known, overall we were disappointed in San Miguel.
For this year’s Christmas closure, we are off to Morocco – with my new job, we felt it best to keep it to two weeks, which is wholly inadequate, but at least should give me a taste – David was there many years ago. We haven’t done nearly the planning we should, but if we can we’ll try to visit Rabat, Meknes, Fez, Marrakesh, and Essaouria, along with some short side trips, including the great Roman ruins at Volubis, near Meknes. Weather should be pleasant, though it can be damp, chilly, and rainy that time of the year, especially near the coast.
We’re hoping to make it to the Veneto next fall – David has been acquiring all kinds of books on Palladio, so a big part of any such trip will be visiting the Palladian legacy of northeastern Italy – sounds like an interesting focus.
So, how does one summarize the year, in general? It’s been a troubling year in many, many ways – the world and national scene, the weird weather (and the worry that it is not just one of those typical anomalies, but part of a trend caused by our massive disruption of the planet), though at the same time, strangely enough, satisfying. A year in which we are enjoying our place more, where we cherish friends and family even more than before, appreciate the good health we have, even while dealing with some of the effects of aging. I guess it’s been a year in which we’ve appreciated that growing older has some very satisfying aspects. It may sound strange, but I have arrived at a point where I more or less like who I am – again, it’s related to a nice kind of aging – there is the challenge of a new, more satisfying job, and the cultivation of enduring relationships. So, there is much to be grateful for. I hope you can say the same.
Love,