CATUA & OMTUA

CATUA & OMTUA

Heroes of the pueblo uprising he wears proudly on his sleeves.

43 year old Native American from the Tesuque Pueblo

He just made it out of the hospital after a slip & fall on ice.

His left leg got reinjured, his rib had been broken too. 

For protection. he wears around his neck a leather strap

attached to a vessel wrapped in sinew and filled with sacred cornmeal.

"I am an alcoholic."

He has worked 3 out of the 12 steps.

Higher Power

grant us the serenity

to accept the things we can not change

the courage to change the things we can

and the wisdom to know the difference.

Chris Rose, 7 Years, but not forgotten, RIP!

I love the expressions on their faces. The image was captured in July 2009 by Susan, a tourist, a world traveller, an artist, an empathic and artistic woman. I had watched this photographer in tears, focused on blind Bonnie Hearn on stage, sitting on the side, no longer able to perform with her husband, tenderly petting her guide dog. As Susan's heart was touched, so was mine, we talked, we became friends and Susan mailed me these images, my favorites among her many wonderful photos. (Susan graciously gave me permission to share her photos with the public.)Sunday morning September 6th, Christopher Rose was found lying face down along the Santa Fe River at the DeVargas Park, a victim of a violent, crime.

It is disconcerting that he may have been there for a while, somewhat hidden in the brush, along a route I take all the time, so I may have passed him unknowingly. This is also the place from where I watched him steal a few roses from the Santuario de Guadalupe's magnificent rose garden in bright daylight only about 6 weeks earlier. I chastised him for it. I figured someone ought to speak out and tell him what is not right. Defensively he mumbled that the flowers were his, and he was Christ, and he needed them to sweet talk the ladies into dancing! I did not respond too kindly. It was obvious that he was excited and in a hurry to get to the plaza where the music and dancing were happening in full force. I had seen him there before and here Susan captured him with his grin that clearly shows his pleasure. It reminds me how music and dance can bring out the best in us and bring us together and almost bridge gaps of social rank, age, and at least for moments unite the fringe elements of society with the establishment.

Christopher Rose, 45, the victim of a premeditated murder, stabbed to death, had arrived in Santa Fe only about 4 months prior and was considered homeless even though he had family members in town, and is remembered by at least someone as a dear and kind uncle.

"George R. wrote: I knew Chris as a friendly guy who never harmed anyone, always had a smile, who sometimes went a little overboard in his remarks to people. He was boisterous, but mostly in a fun way. He carried a guitar and was always ready to belt out a tune whether he could play it or not. He knew more pop songs than I have forgotten. 

Vaya con Dios, Chris"

Sara commented in the New Mexican: "He was a sweet man. He came to Santa Fe for rehab and it didn't work. Rest his soul."

August 2. I was hanging out with my buddy at the fountain on Water Street involved in intense listening to his concerns about work. Chris came stumbling along, almost falling over my pups who, uncharacteristically, barked at him. In no time some tough looking and acting biker duds took offense to Chris and it looked threatening enough for me to insist to call the cops. As usual by the time of their arrival the tension had dispersed and the guys had moved on, no harm done.

Afterwards one young street kid came up to us and apologized for Chris, saying something like that he did not know how to hold his liquor. We got in to an exchange of alcoholism, family problems, willpower and seeking help with AA. On our leave my buddy expressed surprise that Chris had not been harmed yet by anybody, as he seemed to manage to offend others rather easily. This was said only a bit over 1 month prior to Chris' demise!

My heart goes out to all those that suffer violence, addiction and mental illness. As a community we have a responsibility to provide adequate care to the fringe elements of our society. Some readers of the news jumped to premature conclusions, condemning the police, condemning the day workers that hang out in the area where Chris' body was found, condemning the illegals and the transients and the local and the national figures in politics. I sure wish we were less quick to condemn and more readily available to empathize and to seek working solutions for ongoing problems, that are not just local, but world wide. This homicide was Santa Fe's fourth for 2009.

P.S.: The lady dancing with Chris is German and after years of living in Santa Fe, I believe she returned to Germany. She was always to be seen near where there was music and dancing, I miss her unmistakable presence in our community as well.

Sad & Bad

Called 911 on a guy in the bushes unable to get up yesterday evening. I tried to help him, but it was challenging. The guy nicely dressed in a light blue shirt and khaki shorts with a kind face had too much booze he admitted and simply wanted to go home. He pleaded with me not to call the cops! I got him to scoot over towards the bench and crawl kinda on it and eventually the ambulance came with 3 friendly, strong guys. Since he could not walk on his own they took him, against his will to St. Vincent Hospital. He pleaded with them to just give him a lift home "just a few blocks." No, they could not do that. "I will be worse off at the hospital, don't arrest me, I have no record." I felt sad and bad. Should I have gone home and gotten my van and attempted to give him a ride home? Would that have been enabling? How far to go when offering help? Was calling 911 truly helpful to the man? His knees and elbows were bruised and scratched, I guess from the fall in to the thorny bushes, his fly was open. With thunder's promise of a rain storm, for a moment I almost believed I did the right thing. But the storm passed us by, again, hm ...

Street Smarts

This guy staggered up the road, it was already dark, cradling a bottle of something in his arms, he hollered and gestured towards my pups. Meeting the devil rather head on, then have him behind my back, I responded and we got to talking. Turns out this old man with light hair was born like me in the year of the horse. He looks shockingly old to me considering the fact that I am his age.

He offered to teach me Hispanic cuisine. This after I have been preoccupied with my pride in my own home made goodies. I declined his offer to teach me the making of re-fried beans, just the way his father had taught him,  but learned that he likes our community because he can make plenty of money, he says from tourists, without the need to attend to his business of window cleaning! So, well meaning tourists, as he called them, keep at least this one homeless, alcoholic street guy in our town with their generous donations. I always said that giving to beggars is not the wisest of choices.  

While I understand of course the motivation of wanting to do good, and can appreciate the gesture of offering some money to those in seeming need, it may in actuality keep some from getting their life in order and work for a living!  Giving money to addicts helps to fuel their vice, better steer them to a real meal, a roof over their heads, rehabilitation if so desired. Instead though I keep hearing of soft hearted (brained?) folks in support of giving to those asking. I say proper helping is an art. Teach them to fish, rather then dole out small fry!

Chris Rose, Victim of Homicide

I love the expressions on their faces. The image was captured, in July 09 by Susan, a tourist, an artist, a vibrant and an empathic woman. I had watched  this photographer in tears, focused on blind Bonnie Hearn on stage, no longer able to perform with her husband. As her heart was touched, so was mine, we talked, we became friends and she mailed me these images, my favorite among her many wonderful photos. (Susan graciously gave me permission to share these images with the public.)

Sunday morning September 6th, Christopher Rose was found lying face down along the Santa Fe River at the DeVargas Park, a victim of a violent, crime.

It is disconcerting that he may have been there for a while, somewhat hidden in the brush, along a route I take all the time, so I may have passed him unknowingly. This is also the place from where I watched him steal a few roses from the Santuario de Guadalupe in bright day light only about 6 weeks ago. I chastised him for it. I figured someone ought to speak out and tell him what is not right. Defensively he mumbled that the flowers were his, and he was Christ, and he needed them to sweet talk the ladies in to dancing! I did not respond too kindly. It was obvious that he was excited and in a hurry to get to the plaza where the music and dancing was happening in full force. I had seen him there before and here Susan captured him with his grin that clearly shows his pleasure. It reminds me how music and dance can bring out the best in us  and bring us together and almost bridge gaps of social rank, age, and at least for  moments unite the fringe elements of society with the establishment.

Christopher Rose, 45, victim of a premeditated murder, stabbed to death, had arrived in Santa Fe only about 4 months prior and was considered homeless even though he had family members in town, and is remembered by at least someone as a dear and kind uncle.

"George R. wrote: I knew Chris as a friendly guy who never harmed anyone, always had a smile, who sometimes went a little overboard in his remarks to people. He was boisterous, but mostly in a fun way. He carried a guitar and was always ready to belt out a tune whether he could play it or not. He knew more pop songs than I have forgotten.

Vaya con Dios, Chris"

Sara commented in the New Mexican: "He was a sweet man. He came to Santa Fe for rehab and it didn't work. Rest his soul."

August 2. I was hanging out with my buddy at the fountain on Water Street involved in intense listening to his concerns about work. Chris came stumbling along, almost falling over my pups who, uncharacteristically, barked at him. In no time some tough looking and acting biker duds took offense to Chris and it looked threatening enough for me to insist to call the cops. As usual by the time of their arrival the tension had dispersed and the guys had moved on, no harm done.

Afterwards one young street kid came up to us and apologized for Chris, saying something like that he did not know how to hold his liquor. We got in to an exchange of alcoholism, family problems, willpower and seeking help with AA. On our leave my buddy expressed surprise that Chris had not been harmed yet by anybody, as he seemed to manage to offend others rather easily. This was said only a bit over 1 month prior to Chris' demise!

My heart goes out to all those that suffer violence, addiction and mental illness. As a community we have a responsibility to provide adequate care to the fringe elements of our society. Some readers of the news jumped to premature conclusions, condemning the police, condemning the day workers that hang out in the area where Chris' body was found, condemning the illegals and the transients and the local and the national figures in politics. I sure wish we were less quick to condemn and more readily available to empathize and to seek working solutions for ongoing problems, that are not just local, but world wide. This homicide was Santa Fe's fourth for 2009.

when is enough enough or how do we line up the ducks

This evening I was sitting with George on a rock near a fountain that after years of dryness, suddenly flowed again freely. George was troubled with office politics and ran the stories by me.

A drunk guy I had chastised earlier for his audacity of stealing roses from the Santuario in plain view, kept staggering by us, upsetting my dogs who rarely bark at people. Suddenly one and then two biker tough guys took offense and violence seemed imminent. George called 911 and thankfully as he responded to seeming endless questioning, the energy dispersed and the bikers took off and were gone by the time a cop finally showed up.

Afterward one of the drunk street guys came over to us to apologize for this other drunk's obnoxious behavior. He hollered back to his buddy that he was talking to some "old folks" because they (we!) had wisdom. Wow, nobody had yet ever called me to my face "old". Turns out he is half my age and has spent the last 12 years homeless on the streets. His parents were Meth addicts and no, he would never get in to that. His lady left him and got clean and sober and his 9 year old son does not even know who his father is, although he said he calls him frequently and does tell him that he misses him.

The guy sounded and looked dejected, kept mumbling about the need for something to stand it. He brought up AA and said he had not been to a meeting in over a year. George shared with him how he got off drinking and drugging by simply deciding so and rambled on about the power of the mind. The kid seemed to hang on every of his words until he had enough and retired to the bench across from us.

This brings up one of the questions that has always fascinated me, when is enough enough? How do we make the magic happen so that all the ducks line up in one row and all the magnetic particles orient to the same one pole with a clear focus and an unwavering intent? How do we get there? Personally I have experienced this magic at various times, but never got how to make the magic happen. It happens to me.

The other question of course is this guy, and besides the dispensation of 'our wisdom' and the pointing him to the direction of our local shelter and AA groups, what should, could and would we want to do? I wished I had the number of two recovered alcoholics active in AA on me. I still might inquire with these two AA sponsors tomorrow on how to offer further help, and I will be on the look out for that 27 year old kid. He just might be ready for his Saturn Return change of life. Who can say? Sure it is up to him, but a steadying hand at just the right time can do wonders, or not.

fulminate

This morning I got an e-mail from a Florida tourist I had met on the Plaza. She touched my heart as I watched her cry while she took photos of a blind woman, Bonnie Hearn, as she sat up on the bandstand, on the side, with her guide dog, and sang along, but no longer performed. Tears rolled down the face of this photographer, but she kept on, watched, clicked her camera and stroked her husbands thigh in-between.

Well, this woman told me about an incident last night, as they drove on our main street. 2 Hispanic guys raced each other, swerved in to their lane, intimidated other drivers and exhibited what would have to be called reckless driving. They pulled over, called the police, reported the deed, showed the evidence of tire marks, even got the guys to admit to it. The 3 Hispanic cops let them go! Why?

Only last month 4 teens were killed in a drunk driving accident. The accused 26 year old, 4 hours later, had an alcohol blood level of double the legal limit. We have serious problems of addiction, alcoholism, poverty and a lack of education with criminal behavior that is passed on through many generations.

So was it racism that the cops did do nothing? Does it take killing someone before such reckless behavior will be stopped? I am afraid it is our state law that requires that cops have to observe themselves an illegal transgression before they can act and prosecute, hearsay will not do! So now they go after personnel at bars and they try to make them responsible for not giving alcohol to drunk customers (I might ad adults, even if they act childish.) There is talk of anklets to alert bar personnel to the presence of a prior offender. There are steering wheel locks and breathalizers and one former judge tried to shame convicted alcoholics in to proper social behavior and sentenced them to communtiy service to be performed in odd colored hats! But try to report a potential disaster and it takes forever to get a response, much less preventive action.

So are the Hispanic cops in cahoots with the Hispanic offenders, protecting their own, as was suggested? Some, no doubt, would wholeheartedly agree. Our community is run by old Hispanic families of which several prominent politicians got busted big time only recently.

As I mentioned the story to a dear elderly, almost 90 year old lady, she exploded in disdain over our police and how they treated her when she was clearly hit by an on-coming car of a young hispanic woman driver. The cops never asked her side of the story, but gave her a ticket while the evidence, according to her, clearly showed in her favor. I suspect this had more to do with ageism, a loaded topic in itself.