Okay, here we go… My uncle climbed a tower in santa fe

Okay, here we go… My uncle climbed a tower in santa fe. 

I grew up with lots of cousins. A few were older, most of them were younger than me. 

My childhood was spent in Santa Fe. A weird place to grow up, looking back. Of my …many cousins, I was the fifth oldest. Two of my older cousins live in Santa Fe, the other lived in California (I think), and the other older cousin lived in Tennessee. 

Wait… did the one that lived in California live in Santa Fe? Typing this, I think she did. At least for a little while. Maybe she went back and forth from Santa Fe to California. 

I remember asking her about the freeways in California. California cities and population density of California urban areas kind of blew my mind. Her stories of twelve lane highways filled me with wonder. 

But, yeah. Lots of cousins everywhere. Most of my time was spend with the second oldest, but occasionally I’d go with other aunts. Never uncles. Uncles were kind of absent. 

Except for this one time when my uncle took me ice fishing. I don’t know how old I was, but I was very young. If we were in New Mexico, chances are we went to Eagle Nest Lake (https://wwwapps.emnrd.nm.gov/SPD/ParksReportingPublicDisplay/WebDisplay/Detail/37). As far as I know, that’s the only lake in the state that gets cold enough to ice fish. 

My uncle’s approach to getting to the fish was very unconventional. Even I knew this as a very young kid. I think there’s probably protocol to getting under the ice, and it’s not finding the best boulder from the shore and proceeding to bash it into the ice. Right? That sounds dangerous. 

I’m not sure why my parents let me spend time with my uncle… or some of my aunts for that matter. 

I ended up survinvg the ice fishing incident. But, then there was more fun to be had with uncles and aunts. 

I remember going to one aunt’s house and spending the night. Sleepovers were a big deal in the 90s. I don’t remember having a good time, however. My cousins were allowed to do pretty much whatever they wanted, and that did not involve cleaning their apartment. The environment was very chaotic to my child brain. I remember feeling uncomfortable being there. Even now, it gives me unpleasant feelings. 

I was quiet. I didn’t speak up for myself. Something I’ve kept with me to this day. I think I’ve gotten better, but as a kid I would rather stay silent and suffer than speak up to express what I needed. Don’t know why. There’s probably some explanation that points to trauma or whatever. But it was how it was. 

One of the most uncomfortable memories I had was when I spent the night at their apartment and the kids decided they wanted to watch a Freddy Krueger Movie. His face is etched into my brain. I did not want to watch the movie. I didn’t want to be in the room and hear the movie. I didn’t want to be in that house. I just wanted to go home.  But, I was stuck. 

Stuff like that. 

Aunts and uncles suck. At least mine did. 

One time, an uncle of mine got into a craze and decided he wanted to climb a radio tower off of Agua Fria Rd. You know? Those tall towers that have bright blinking red lights on them at night? Those ones. This particular uncle was determined, or convinced, that he was a wrestler. Not the olympic variant. The ones on WWE (then it was WWF). But, he wasn’t athletic. He just liked to scream “I’m awesome!”. I think he was probably just drunk or high or both. 

But, yeah. He made me feel uneasy. And he climbed the tower. At least he said he was gong to. I don’t know if he did or not. He probably didn't. I bet he just passed out. 

I didn't like going to their apartment. In fact, I hated it. 

Santa Fe gave me a variety of memories. Many of them I’m fond of. Those memories suck. 

We were locals. Been in Santa Fe for generations. Our family wasn’t typical. Education wasn’t encouraged. Success wasn’t even mentioned. My uncles and aunts lived to party. They did stupid shit when the kids were around. Said stupid shit when the kids were around. They were horrible examples. 

When a different uncle of mine would sneeze he would also sneeze the Spanish word “Puta” at the same time. 

The word is not a good one. 

Google’s definition: 

pu·ta

noun

DEROGATORY•INFORMAL

1. (in Spanish-speaking regions) a prostitute.

   • a woman who has many casual sexual encountersor relationships.

I didn’t like that guy. Still don’t. He stole from my Grandpa, and my parents. 

So, now that I’m living in this space… I wonder how this has shaped me as a person. Maybe it isn’t all bad. I know that I find it easy to set boundaries now. I don’t want anything to do with that sort of dysfunction I was exposed to as a kid. I have no problem skipping family get-togethers. I have no problem saying “no” to have my kids hang out with the family crowd. And I know that I have control of where my kids are. I can stick up for them and advocate for them, remembering that I didn’t have anyone to advocate for me when I was a kid. 

Not sure why, my mind goes to this image, (generated by Bing AI) when I think of my uncle climbing that tower.

 

Shakespeare Tells the Story of Microsoft's Origin

 I had this idea. I want to use generative AI (ChatGPT) to tell the story of Microsoft in Albuquerque but in the style of William Shakespeare. 

My wife and I were talking about his work. Sadly, I'm not as familiar with his work than she is, but what I have experienced, I can appreciate. 

I think the old language is fascinating. I watched a part of a PBS documentary and some folks who study language were interview and said that the speech sounded like what a character pirate accent would sound like. 

When I think of Shakespeare, I also think about what it would have been like in that time. 16th and 17th century England. I'm more so transported to imagining what the theaters and people watching the plays were like than the plays themself. But, that's probably because I haven't read much of them. 

Maybe I'll try to change that for me. 

Anyway, here's the generative AI story of the origin of Microsoft in Albuquerque in the style of William Shakespeare. 

Act I: The Exodus from Albuquerque

Upon January's dawn, in Seventy-Nine of the year of our Lord,

Bill Gates and Paul Allen, bound by a technological cord,

Forsake Albuquerque's desert domain,

To Bellevue, they journeyed, Seattle's reign.

Four years prior, in the bosom of New Mexico's sun,

A fledgling software company had begun,

In the Old Bank Building, Bellevue's heart,

Microsoft's genesis, a prelude to its art.

Act II: The Altair's Call

Ere the move to the Pacific Northwest,

Microsoft's roots were in Altair's quest,

A computer, small and revolutionary,

Altair 8800, a beacon in the vast prairie.

A rectangle of gray metal, devoid of grace,

Yet in its core, potential to embrace.

A language it lacked, a call for aid,

Gates and Allen, their destiny laid.

In Cambridge, amidst ivy-clad halls,

Gates and Allen answered Altair's calls.

BASIC, the language, their pledge they made,

A journey begun, a pact unswayed.

Eight weeks' labor, night and day,

Allen to Albuquerque, the code's display.

"Print 2 + 2," the program's dance,

A symphony of bytes, a serendipitous chance.

Act III: The Albuquerque Sojourn

In Albuquerque's embrace, Allen took root,

Vice-president of software, in a quest to commute.

Gates, Harvard's scholar, joined the endeavor,

A partnership forged, bound forever.

Microsoft, or Micro-Soft, in its infancy,

Gates and Allen, architects of this symphony.

Ownership divided, a pact decreed,

Gates, 60 percent, Allen, 40 indeed.

In Sundowner's abode and cafe's delight,

The duo toiled, day and night.

A Porsche for Gates, a chariot of speed,

In the Albuquerque night, his thoughts to feed.

A Porsche's roar, a dance with the sand,

Gates' mugshot etched in the law's stern hand.

In these desert nights, dreams did conspire,

Microsoft's legend, kindled in fire.

Act IV: The Pact Unraveled

MITS, the ally, turned adversarial gaze,

Exclusive rights, Altair's code to praise.

Dispute arose, a legal fray,

In '77, the partnership gave way.

Arbitration's judgment, Microsoft's decree,

BASIC unleashed, the code set free.

The exit from Albuquerque, a path paved,

Microsoft's destiny, in Seattle's shade.

Act V: The Ascent in Bellevue

To Seattle's bosom, Microsoft flew,

Bellevue's Old Bank Building, their office anew.

Gates, the orchestrator, Ballmer joined the dance,

In Bellevue's embrace, a fledgling's chance.

The Northrup Way, a humble abode,

Microsoft's presence in Bellevue bestowed.

Ballmer, the mailman, in a change of scene,

Delivered mail, a transition serene.

In the Old Bank's shadow, Microsoft grew,

From the eighth floor to Northrup, the journey true.

The Standard in microcomputers, the pledge,

In Bellevue's precincts, a company on edge.

Epilogue: Legacy Unfolds

The Albuquerque chapter, a distant tale,

Microsoft's growth, an unyielding gale.

From Altair's inception to Bellevue's rise,

A saga scripted in technological skies.

In Time's embrace, Gates' face aglow,

A fortune sizzling, a Seattle show.

Albuquerque's past, a mere memory,

In Redmond's haven, Microsoft's legacy.

Images generated by Bing AI of the original crew walking around ABQ but in the style of 16th century English art. 

Source: Rousso, Nick. “Microsoft moves from New Mexico to Bellevue on January 1, 1979.” HistoryLink.org, History Ink, 30 Dec. 2020, [https://www.historylink.org/File/21161].

Connected

I don't know what triggered this memory...

Oh, I remember now. I was walking down the stairs in my office building and noticed some holes drilled in the cinderblock where network wires were threaded through. It looks like an afterthought, probably because it was. I imagine the building I'm in was built before the wide usage of the internet.

...just got lost in looking at satellite Timelapse images on google earth... 

It was. Looks to be built in the mid 80s or so. 

So, back to my memory. I was a senior in high school and I was outside of Mr. Ruben's class. (He was the "cool" teacher.) He taught civics and a few history classes--upperclassmen. He had a computer in his classroom, and it was connected to the internet. 

This sounds very boring to people today. Like, so what? But for my generation, this was a big deal. My generation is very unique, we were in high school at the end of one era, and graduated at the beginning of another. 

My freshman year I took typing. We didn't learn to type on a computer, we learned on typewriters. (Are there even typing classes in school anymore?) I think I read a tweet or a thread a while back, too, reminding people from my generation that you don't have to place two spaces after a period anymore. I think there were a few other rules we learned in typing class. 

So yeah, internet connected to a computer in a classroom was a big deal. Mr. Ruben would let us browse the internet if we got out work done. Of course, there were no website controls, or if there were, they were very primitive. I know this because if there were content controls on our network, stickdeath.com was not on the list of blocked sites. It should have been. Very violent ways for stick figures to die using flash animation was the theme of this website. And we'd watch those videos and either Mr. Ruben didn't notice, or he wanted to keep the status of "cool" teacher. 

Back to my memory, though. Seeing the holes drilled into the cinderblock reminded me of crews wiring network cables through my school in my junior year. At the time, I had no idea how significant this event was. Before the cables existed, my school had no internet connection. Now, it does. 

I was just appreciating the gravity of that event. 

Encyclopedias

 Encyclopedias. People of my generation and before may remember these. A collection of books with information complied on certain topics. Encyclopedia Britanica was the best, apparently. The other two publishers I knew of were Funk & Wagnalls and World Book. 

World Book, as I remember it, was most commonly found in the library of your school. This was the book you reached for if you wanted to start a research project--you wanted to know about a president, a continent, a country, an animal--you name it, the World Book probably had a quick bite of information about the topic you wanted to learn more about. 

Britanica seemed to be a bit more acadmic than the World Book, and sometimes I'd see it in the school library, but I would gravitate to the World Book. The information was more accessable for me. The font, as I remember it, was more Times New Roman-y, smaller font, the pages seemed to be of higher quality, the binding was a nicer quality. 

Doesn't matter, I guess. I didn't go to the Britanica. My go-to were the World Book at school and Funk & Wagnalls when I was at my Grandpa's house. My grandpa had two sets of Funk & Wagnalls. Maybe he had World Book too. I don't remember. 

My Grandpa didn't have a computer, or a TV most of my childhood, he didn't even have a phone, but he had plenty to do at his house. He had this brown 70's style carpet in his living room, a record player on a stand (also very 70s), and booksheves full of encyclopedia volumes and atlases. 

This was my favorite thing to do as a child. I would lay on his 70s style brown carpet and pick a letter from his encyclopedias and just learn. I would start with some nugget of curiosity my grandpa would give me, and then go from there. 

One time, he told me that Mexico City was the biggest city in the world. I had to know more. I don't remember the events exactly, but I'm sure I want to the "M" volume and began to read up on the city. This is where my facination with populations of cities began. To read that Mexico City had millions of inhabitants blew my mind. Then I looked at the photos and the maps included. I'm sure my next action was to then look at a city map. 

I could spend hours just looking at the map, imagining what it was like to live in the same place with millions of other people. And that's what I did. 

Today, that curiosity is still there. It's muffled a bit by my responsibilities. I have to work. I bring my curiosity to work, but I can't sit at my desk and imagine cities while browsing Wikipedia. (or can i?). Wikipedia is great, though. 

I did have an interesting memory come to me. There used to be a Furr's grocery store in downtown Santa Fe. My grandpa would take me there occasionally, and an endcap of one of the ailes had a display of the newest Funk & Waggnalls encyclopedias. My grandpa would take me there and we would by each book individually. The books would be in his collection, but of course I could read through them any time I wanted. 

I Don't Know Spanish

 I don't know Spanish. 

I think I should. I grew up around a little bit of Spanish. My grandpa (who lived next door), and my tio, who also lived next door, and my other neighbor, Tony, and my grandpa's cousin, who also lived next door--all spoke Spanish. 

I guess I should explain what "next door" is in Santa Fe. We all kind of lived "next door". I grew up in an old part of Santa Fe. I mean, I suppose all of Santa Fe is an old part. 

*Rabbit Hole* now I want to know when the houses I lived in were built. I won't do that now. 

Okay, so I grew up close to the intersection of Guadalupe and Agua Fria. There's no rhyme or reason to the neighborhood design. Houses just went up where they went up. 

I mean, check out this image from Google Earth. Not sure if it illustrates my point very well, but it's a cool image either way. What I'm trying to say is that this area more than likely predated cars. I really don't know, but I could look at a historical map. 

Okay, had to look it up. Here's a website I found in a quick google search. 

https://nmplates.com/FirstAutomobile.htm

Sweet images. Looks like cars were in New Mexico around 1905.

https://www.historicsantafe.org/maps

This rabbit hole I did go in. Maps. 

Officially my favorite map. 

So, yeah. My neighborhood predated cars. 

What was I talking about? Oh yeah. Spanish. I remember talking a bit of Spanish to my Tio and to Tony. It consisted of only, a "Hi, Tony. Como estas?" and he'd respond with "Muy bien, usted?". Same with Tio. 

And my grandpa didn't speak Spanish to me, but he would sing Spanish. He was a musician, and he loved mariachi music. I would watch him practice on his vihuela and he would sing. He would also play his harp (that he made) and sing songs. I'd watch him play and sing in Spanish. Some of my favorite memories. 

And now that I'm getting older, I'm coming to appreciate where I came from more. I'm sad that my generation lost the language, but I'm hoping to bring it back a bit. I'm doing some Duolingo lessons, and I'm learning a bit. Maybe I can encourage my kids to learn Spanish, too.

I Forgot My First Grade Teacher's Name

 Today I'm forcing myself to write. 

I had some time to think about a memory I wanted to talk about. 

Sometimes, it's easy for me to get caught up in whatever is going on in my life at the time. These days my mind is racing. Racing all the time, and not really on anything important. Maybe this is what they call "overthinking"? 

Either way, even now. I'm trying to relax my brain so I can retell this story.

...

...

...

First grade. I don't remember much from first grade. I went to Alvord Elementary in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The school's closed now. But I have some memories of the school. Apparently very few from first grade. 

Here's a memory from first grade that stands out. I remember our first grade teacher giving us an assignment to bring our teeth that we lost to school. I remember we placed all of our lost teeth in small, clear plastic cups, and we filled these small cups with Coke and watched the teeth decay over the next couple of days. 

How did this work? Or is my memory twisted? I don't think everyone in the class lost their teeth at the same time. And what about the tooth fairy? Was this a sacrifice our teacher had us do in the name of science and dental hygiene knowledge? So many questions...

This stands out to me, though. This memory never left me. And from then forward, I knew that soda's had a negative impact on my teeth. I guess it's worked, too. I've never had a cavity in my life. 

I think the next lesson was how to brush your teeth. I remember the graphic that was shared on patters to use to brush your teeth. There were little kids doing cartwheels and this directed us to brush our teeth in a circular pattern. 

The other memory I have of first grade was of me presenting something to the class that I thought was interesting. I talked about the Tyrannosaurus Rex's mouth. I found out somewhere that the T-Rex could open its mouth up to three feet. At the time, I was three feet tall. So I made this connection and it blew my little first grade mind. So, this is what I shared. 

This is all I remember about first grade. I don't even remember my first grade teacher's name.

Now that I think about it, I don't remember my fourth grade teacher's name either. 

I remember what my fourth grade teacher looked like, but my first grade teacher--she's just gone from my memory. I don't remember what she looked like. 

Okay... I just remembered the name of my fourth grade teacher. Her name was Ms. Booth. She was from Missouri, or somewhere in the midwest. First grade is still gone. 

Here's a cool image I found from another blog of the angle a T-Rex was capable of opening its mouth.   http://palaeoblog.blogspot.com/2015/11/how-wide-could-t-rex-open-its-mouth.html

Have you ever seen those videos of seagulls eating large mammals, or a pelican eating a pigeon? I picture the T-Rex swallowing whole prey that seems like it should be too large to eat. 

My friend Michael got an eraser stuck in his nose. Later that year we burned a Zozobra

When I was in kindergarten, my friend Michael got a pencil eraser stuck up his nose. 

I'm not sure if he was my friend. Maybe a friend as a kindergartener looks at friends. In kindergarten, everyone in your class is "friend". As we get older, that's when we start to exclude people from our group. But in kindergarten... all the kids are friends. 

But Michael got an eraser stuck in his nose, and I was worried for him. I remember the room. It was bright. The windows were tall and the blinds were open. The room was flooded with sunshine. Sunshine, and the sobbing of Michael. 

I don't remember much of the details. I think the teacher (or one of the teachers, we had two) tried to retrieve the eraser. Now that I think about it, I wonder if them trying to get the eraser made it worse. I wouldn't know. Just seems like that would be the case. All I know is they couldn't get it, and a little later, Michael's mom came to pick him up. I don't remember the next day, I don't remember if I asked him if he was okay. He was okay, because I know he was in classes with me after that. 

A memory I'll never forget. Seared on my brain. 

This makes me think of other things within that class. I think that same year our class made an adobe house. Someone came to our school and taught us the techniques of making the bricks and stacking them. We got a little muddy, but it was very fun, as I recall. 

That same year also (and subsequent years) we burned a small Zozobra. It was so normal to me then, but now I look back and realize how strange this is. The janitor would construct it and do the burning. I don't remember any safety protocols in place. We were at a safe distance, I think. But there wasn't a firetruck close by in the event a stray ember caught our school on fire. 

It was awesome. I became very interested in the burning of Zozobra. I would draw Zozobra when I wasn't drawing dinosaurs. And then... I started to want to burn my own Zozobra. I started making them out of paper and popsicle sticks. One day, my wish came true. I found a lighter and went to the back of my house and burned my Zozobra. Wasn't the best idea. I remember getting in trouble for playing with a lighter. I could've burned my house down. Thankfully adobe houses don't seem to be very flammable from the outside. 

So yeah... no more home brewed Zozobras. We were close enough to Fort Marcy Park, though, that I could hear him moaning as he was burned every September. I think one year we even saw some of the flames in the distance. We definitely saw the fireworks after. 

Zozobra is coming up and I still enjoy it. Maybe I'll post some photos. Maybe not. Probably not. I'll forget. 

Here's some photos I took last year.