TIDBITS OF TIMES PAST or HOW'D WE GET HERE

Each of us has at sometime in our illustrious (or not) past had occasion to bring a certain reverie to our minds holding cell. Well it happened to me several weeks ago, and at first I tried to fend it off with the thoughts that if I did in fact pursue my fancy then who would really care, that is outside of myself.

In an effort to quell my inner desire for answers I resorted to the only wide ranged friend I could rely on, MA BELL, or in my case it is MA GCI. And after some effort in exerting my mind of who-next I found the first number in my list of 'gotta find'. And then the next one, and the next. Soon I had the urge to try the first call. I felt that in making this first that I would be able to glean information as to where the other folks of my past might be.

So as I dialed the first, I anticipated the answer and first question from my past. "Your Dave who?". But rather came the recording "No one etc etc,,,". A pall of thanks as well as sorrow was the next feeling. There was only one course to follow and that was to try again to reach into my past. And to my dismay I could not believe that no one appeared to be home, no matter who I called, well Easter is a special day and folks may be out visiting.

The answer to the no one home response from the recorder was to in fact do that 'leave a message dummy'.The first days of the week after Easter were dull in comparison to my great delight when my wife, Clella, answered and then handed the phone to me. I normally do not get a lot of calls in the evening so the added surprise of having a return call from one of my left messages.

There to my great delight was a voice welcomed in my dash to find some of what I sought. BILL CALDWELL, the son of the man that bought out my grandfather in the Chevrolet dealership.This is a story for another time.

During our long talk I learned of the passing of JIMMY EVERHART about two months ago, this would be in last of February or first of March 2007. BILL also filled me in on the whereabouts of others, whom I will be trying to reach or if they see this, there is an email address to me.

As we progress through this terse life I shall endeavor to relay to you the fun of growing up in Socorro, in the making and sometimes the losing of friends. There will stories of truth as seen from verifiable sides but NOTHING that will in any way harass, harm, hurt, or diminish the integrity of any one. If in my heart I think an incident will be disrespectable in any way the incident will be by passed.

There are stories about me, some funny, idiotic, humorous, stupid, heroic, inane. There are those of Mano to Mano, deep friendships between growing boys to manhood. And do not think I would forsake the distaff side and the meanings of these friendships and learning ventures entered in the conformity of the day, and with little variance or deviation.

Horses, fences, post holes, adobe building, AT&SF, motorbikes and sharecrops, melon capers, potato plugs and Lord only know what else.

So welcome to my world FOR NOW. To come the GOOD, the BAD, and the BEAUTIFUL.