New Mexico




	WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 the Heart" October 17, 2001 Volume 1, Issue 40 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com -------------------------------------------------------- By subscription only! Welcome to your next issue of "WRITE 2 THE HEART" You are receiving this FREE newsletter because you requested a subscription or a friend generously forwarded their copy to you. ----------------------------------------------------- Write 2 the Heart is continuing to give away mouse pads to writers whose submissions are published in October. Only one per writer. You will qualify even if you had something published in the past. ----------------------------------------------------- Hotmail users, you will need to hit the save address button on your account. The filters that MSN has implemented keeps you from receiving your e-zine in a timely manner. I discovered this after one of my sons complained that I took him off the list. His filter was throwing it away. ------------------------------------------------------ Mark gives us a glimpse into growing up on the desert. Remember being eleven and a cowboy or an Indian was a viable occupational choice? ------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------- Growing Up In New Mexico By: Mark McMullen --------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------- As a boy, my life growing up in Southern New Mexico was full of wonder. Carlsbad, of course is known for the famous caverns, and I spent many hours exploring other caves not known to many. My fondest memories is of a ranch house we lived in for short time out in the desert. On my eleventh birthday, I felt I had grown up! ( I still tell people I'm eleven! ) On that day, I received a bow and arrow set. On the package, it said, "Caution, This Is Not A Toy!" That was all I needed to believe I was all grown up now! Although my main blood line is Irish and German, my great-grand mother was full blooded Cherokee, and this had a great impact on my young mind. For the most part, I was a loner. My mother has always called me "Wolf" (even now at age forty), and when I learned what a Lobo was, well, a lone wolf I became.... Just beyond our backyard, the desert was my world. I had this green Indian style vest that I wore to a frazzle! With my bow in hand, and a quiver full of arrows on my back, I explored my world at every opportunity. I had discovered a red clay pit beneath a small cliff, and I made that area my fort. I would try and fashion cups and plates out of the clay, but for the life of me, I just couldn't seem to get the hang of it! An artist, I am not! About a quarter mile from our home, was a riding academy. They would let their horses run free in my world. The scene was complete! Me, as a wild Indian, with wild horses running close by. Next door to us, actually part of our property, was an old earthen home. The home was a true adobe, made of mud, clay and straw. Inside, lived an ancient Navaho woman. She spoke English, and we very seldom saw her venture out of her home, except to tend her garden. I remember she was shorter than myself, and I have always been very small for my age. At age eleven, I probably looked like I was no more than eight or nine. The old woman would come over once in a while, and make a gesture asking to use the phone. I could only assume it was her children she was calling. Behind her shack, she had the two most beautiful horses I had ever seen. One was coal black, the other pure white. My older brother and I called them Prince(the black one) and King (the white stallion). We would stand on the rail fence and just dream of riding them! The old woman would care for them every day, and I never saw anyone come to help her. One day, King had escaped from the corral. He was running loose around the property, just having the time of his life! My oldest brother tried to chase him down, but to no avail. I watched in fascination as this little old lady dashed out of her home, a lariat in hand, the lasso full and in perfect form circling her head. She chased King down the dirt path that lead to our home, and with one try, the rope landed smoothly around his neck! I was in awe! She never said a word as she lead him back to his corral, but she did look at me in passing, a gleam in her eye....she smiled at me as if to say, "Ya didn't think I still had it in me, huh kid!" Oh, those beautiful Stallions....I had heard that after we moved, she has sold them to a circus. I do believe they would of made a great attraction! I can just imagine seeing them in the ring, with riders standing on their strong backs. I loved horses so much, yet, I very rarely ever had the chance to ride one. It was my dream to someday have my own, and who knows? I just might get one when I'm an old man living in an earthen shack, a Lone Wolf, like the old woman. Mark McMullen arpeggio_ @ hotmail.com -------------------------------------------------------- Mark lives in Idaho and is a single dad of a teenaged daughter. He is a poet, songwriter and storyteller. He loves to play the guitar and collect musical instruments. His other passion is building web sites. -------------------------------------------------------- FROM OUR READERS ------------------------------------------------------ Would that we all had a friend like Rose. Because of my government career, I had to move my family around the country too often. It was particularly hard on my two daughters when they were teenagers. Eventually they found new friends, but then we would move again and they would have to start all over. But some of their friends remained so forever, thank God. Like Cheryl, they are raising their children in one place. I regret that I could not do that. Paul www.leadem.com ** I absolutely loved your story about your and Rose`s friendship. Later, I will write about my best friend and how we met. Maggie ** Cheryl, I can't remember if I told you that I loved this story. I wish the kids were like this now. I'm afraid I hear a lot about kids making fun of other kids. My oldest daughter had to have our grandson moved to another school many years ago because of bullies. His grades were suffering. He was a mild mannered, peaceful little boy, and he just couldn't understand this cruelty. Now he's all grown up, in the air force, and married. He's a dear grandson. His big brother is out of the Army now, and he is going to college. He is also married. When I was a kid and I went to a new school in 6th grade, there were a couple of girls who welcomed me, and we stayed friends through junior high. Then we went to separate high schools. My kids were lucky enough to go through school here where my husband & I, and one of our daughter's still live. Now her kids are in the same schools she attended. Your popcorn story was hilarious, and I can picture the popcorn turning up in strange places. Love & God Bless You, Pat -------------------------------------------------------- <>< Prayer Request For Those In Service To Our Country ><> As you read over this list of names, take the time to pray for each one and their families. If you have a prayer request to add hit reply and send me their name and I will be happy to add it to our list. Trey, Chris Speir, Tim Speir, Emmett Summers, Jessie, Ken and Eloise asks for prayer for her family members and extended family in the Armed Forces. --------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl's Corner Little Whosie made his way into the world last Friday. He weighed 8 lbs and 11 oz. His grandpa calls him Whosie (short for who is he) because his parents were still in discussion as to what to name him for a couple of days after he was born. Finally, they decided on Aaron Tyler and will call him Tyler. If you click on this link http://www.write2theheart.com/Archives/Baby/baby.html you will see a picture proud grandpa took of the new Dad, Mom and little Tyler. For those with slow computers, it may take a little while to come up. His big brother is so proud. This coming Sunday, David and I will celebrate our Twenty-eighth wedding anniversary. Goodness, where did the time go? Why it seems like just last week he was pulling up in my mom's front yard in his purple '53 Chevy he called the "Purple Bomb". Talk about adventures, that car was always getting us into one. Once, we were delivering a back seat full of puppies for his parents when we were pulled over by the police for bank robbery. Supposedly the bank robber's get away car was supposed to be similar to ours. Now why would a robber use a very old, slow and brightly painted purple car? God Bless, Cheryl --------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------- © 2001 Write 2 the Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual author or copyright owner. ------------------------------------------------------------ All subscriptions sent to your email free of charge.