Santa Ana Pueblo
Tuesday, April 2, 2024 Entry #75
“From the tin rooftop the little boy did watch over the wildlands of New Mexico…Oh painted night set free with light glows outside the Rainbow Saloon.”-From the Bruce Springsteen song “Santa Ana,” named for a reservation town (Santa Ana Pueblo) in New Mexico
I am on the road (again), driving from St. Louis all the way to Los Angeles to see two more concerts on Bruce Springsteen’s first post-pandemic tour with the E Street Band. This is day two, and as I crossed into New Mexico from Texas I was really feeling the thrill of the open road. I believe the fact that my wallet was missing (see Entry #74) was actually adding to my elation and sense of liberation. I was as unencumbered as the wind, letting more of my life at the moment go to chance and circumstance (though I was admittedly now tethered more than ever to my I-Phone). Moreover, it wasn’t long before the “Land of Enchantment” presented me with my first mountain view of this nascent trip. My heart actually skipped a beat, I was so excited.
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I realize that I am hardly the first to state how awe-inspiring it is to be in the mountains, but it still seemed revelatory to feel paradoxically both powerful and humbled by the emerging vista. Most wonderfully, I knew this was only the beginning of the grand scenery that was yet in store for me on this journey. I flashed back to 1987 when I moved to Washington D.C. after college and began what I figured would be basically a continuous path of office jobs. I was working for an environmental and consumer advocacy organization; meaningful, challenging and pleasant enough. However, the sudden death of a dear college friend that spring scrambled me up and I suddenly turned my back on convention. I resigned my D.C. position and signed on to return to my beloved Camp Thunderbird and lead a group of teens on a 6-week camping trip through the Northwestern United States and the Canadian Rockies. On that long ago trek which launched in Minnesota, it was in Wyoming that I saw the mountains first emerge. I took them in from the widow of my new “office,” a van filled with eager kids and pulling a U-Haul trailer for our backpacks and tents. Then as now, the rugged landscape filled me with much needed serenity and helped me reconnect with myself.
I decided that Santa Fe, New Mexico would be my first substantial off-route stop of the trip. It was a beautiful day as I drove there from Albuquerque. The sweet vibe I was experiencing was interrupted by a call from an incoming number I did not recognize. I answered and the caller asked if they had reached Randy Fleisher. He identified himself as Rick from Arkansas and he told me that he was in possession of my wallet! He and his wife had been traveling home and they found it on the Oklahoma gas station floor where it must have dropped right out of my pocket. Rick said that he waited a bit to see if I was going to show up (while I was meanwhile frantically trying to relocate the place), but feeling anxious about the oncoming storm, he put my wallet in his pocket and got back on the road. Luckily, my phone number, along with those of the others on our Confirmation trip to New York I had just returned from, was on a small laminated card in my billfold. Rick told me he would be glad to mail my wallet to my friend in LA. He even refused my offer of an instant Venmo reward for his troubles, saying he believed that his good deed would ensure someone would do something similar for him one of these days.
It was was what my friend Billy called a non-political “coup d'état,” an ‘overthrow’ of Murphy’s Law, meaning a reversal of fortune to the positive. Buoyed by all of it, I spent a lovely few hours taking in the galleries and cafes of Santa Fe.
Looking at the map, I figured I had time for one more New Mexico experience. I have a friend who lived for a number of years in the city of Gallup, known as the “Heart of Indian Country.” Gallup is geographically, culturally, and spiritually connected to the massive Native American reservation land (occupying portions of three states) known as Navajo Nation. I officiated this friend's wedding in Colorado, and there I met many guests from Gallup who are deeply involved in Native American affairs. I have been intrigued since then, and when I saw I could make it before evening, I was soon on my way to Gallup, New Mexico.
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I was so glad I thought to stop there. I parked and just walked through town, meeting some folks representing a variety of Native tribes, and ending up at a homespun bar/restaurant (Bruce, my own “Rainbow Saloon?”) for a delicious tavern-style dinner.
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I reached the Arizona border late at night and achieved my goal of getting myself to the closest town with a hotel that was in reach of Grand Canyon National Park.
Day 2