So this evening, I have become familiar with a new concept: Free time.
Here is what I did with it:
People keep telling me I look like Merida from Brave. I guess I sort of do, but I thought the likeness would be closer if she had my gray streak and bifocals. (And more snout. She definitely needs more snout to look like me, but my Photoshop skills aren’t quite sufficient to perform reverse rhinoplasty on a Pixar character, so this will have to do. If Pixar made a movie about me, they’d idealize my face anyway. Disney princesses are always prettier than real life.)
This may be why I don’t get a lot of free time. Clearly, I cannot be trusted to use it sensibly….
During my trip to New Mexico last weekend, I wandered over to Santa Rosa to see the public art installation honoring local author Rudolfo Anaya of Bless Me, Ultima fame. I was aware of the park and the statue of Anaya himself, but last Sunday was the first time I’d noticed the bronze plates embedded in the walkway around the fountain. Each one contains a handwritten quotation from Bless Me, Ultima, which you really must read if you haven’t already.
Here are a few images from the park:
The Anaya statue.
Instagram of the tablet in his hand. The text reads: “Love life, and if despair enters your heart, look for me in the evenings when the wind is gentle and the owls sing in the hills. I shall be with you.” When I die, I don’t want a funeral. I want to be cremated, and I want somebody to stand on Tucumcari Mountain and read this passage to whoever needs to hear it before turning my finely powdered butt loose to ride the New Mexico wind.
Instagram of one of the bronze plates. This one says: “It is because good is always stronger than evil, always remember that, Antonio. The smallest bit of good can stand against all the power of evil in the world and it will emerge triumphant.” At some point in the not-too-distant future, we should probably discuss the metaphysics of that statement.
And this one: “‘Bless me, Ultima–‘ Her hand touched my forehead and her last words were, ‘I bless you in the name of all that is good and strong and beautiful, Antonio. Always have the strength to live.”
I like how the words sort of depend on the dust from the llano to make them legible. I don’t know whether that was intentional, but it really fits, given the importance of setting in Anaya’s work.