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Columns

  • Work of Art: A great dad-son combo

    The cause of much consternation as we returned from our summer break to resume classwork at Immaculate Conception School in 1954 was whether the bulk we’d acquired during vacation had magically slipped away. That was the time we returned as freshmen to the homeroom of Sister Mary Missa Massa.

    The baby fat we thought we’d exchanged for muscle just wasn’t there. Here’s what happened:

  • Dispatch New Mexico - Back to school and freedom in teaching

    Editor’s note: This column is a repeat from August 2013, updated where needed to make it relevant in August 2015.

    LAS VEGAS — It’s back-to-school time and, oh, the memories.

    I remember being a little kid and looking forward to the return with a mixture of dread and excitement. Dread because the summer was freedom and it was coming to an end; excitement because every new school year was a chance to become just a little more grown up, which in a kid’s eyes is real freedom.

  • Just a Thought - Amazing grace how sweet the sound

    By Rick Kraft

    My family was attending an interdenominational chapel service at the YMCA of the Rockies in Estes Park, Colo., when the visiting pastor spoke to us about grace. He spoke about numerous instances in his life when he had been given grace.

    He closed his sermon leading us in singing the most beloved hymn of all time: “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found, was blind, but now I see.

  • Another perspective - Progress made: Time to work wiser and smarter
  • Editorial Roundup - August 21, 2015

    Compiled by The Associated Press
    The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette on big money looming larger in the 2016 campaign (Aug. 18):

    Skeptics of the Supreme Court’s Citizens United decision in 2010 warned that it would open the door to a handful of mega-wealthy donors to buy national elections. The consequences have been worse than anyone imagined.

  • Work of Art: Too late for lefties day

    Alas! I missed it by a week, but in my defense, I’ve been reminded that people with my condition are perpetually behind the times.

    I refer to National Left Handers Day, observed Aug. 13 and described “as a chance to tell your family and friends how proud you are of being left-handed, and also raise awareness of the issues lefties face in a world designed for right-handers.”

    They’re right! Too many of us get left behind.

  • Dispatch New Mexico - Years-long drought draining away

    It seems New Mexico’s drought is over. Let the flooding begin.

    The drought actually began to noticeably subside a couple of years ago, and has now disappeared altogether in nearly all of the eastern side of New Mexico. The U.S. Drought Monitor, which was covered in blood red (the color used for exceptional drought) just a couple of years ago, has been showing a steady retraction since.

  • Work of Art: Those were the days

    Charles Arnold Goddard has lived to be 100. Several dozen relatives, friends, neighbors and even business associates gathered at his Myrtle Avenue home Saturday to share the occasion. A group of fellow veterans was there to present him with a certificate for his Army captaincy, and Mayor Alfonso Ortiz handed him a certificate from the city.

  • Parade was a great show of horsemanship

    It didn’t quite rain on the parade! Oh, no-how could it? And of course, it wouldn’t rain on more than 200 horses, quite a few carriages, wagons and buggies, plus honored guests and flag bearers.
    Our railroad roundhouse (where the Santa Fe railroad used to service its huge steam engines) yard was the perfect place to start off this parade. The horses just didn’t show up there. A few were actually ridden to that location, but at least 90 percent of them were trailered in, as were the wagons and buggies.

  • Work of Art: Are personal notes passé?

    Some people said I was trying too hard to win the girl. Carol’s parents, who encouraged the match, told me they approved of the way I would send them a thank-you note each time they invited me to spend the weekend at their house.

    What’s unusual about a thank-you note? Not much — unless it’s mailed from the town of the hosts before I even left town. Back in the ‘60s, here’s what happened often: