Zuni

 The drive from Gallup to the Zuni Pueblo is short - less than an hour along a two lane highway. When we arrived we stopped at the cultural center to get our bearings, and really to show our respect. The woman there was friendly and helpful. We opted to not take a tour, so she showed us where we could go, and where we could not. She reminded us  to  not take any photographs which I would not have done anyway. She suggested that we simply drive just a little further on, and  stop at some local galleries. And so we did, parking in front of  the first gallery we came to. However, we were surprised to  learn that it, and the second gallery, were closed. We walked a little further on, and found an open sign. We were welcomed in.

Here we found ourselves not in a gallery, but a shop where raw materials, including turquoise, were sold. For as long as I have known him, Tyler has been interested in jewelry and jewelry making, so he was quite intrigued. There we met an amiable fellow, I shall call him Ben (not his real name), who seemed to be delighted to have someone to talk to, and talk he did. He told us several times that he would buy his materials from no where else. The woman behind the counter, I believe she was the owner, reminded him with no humor that he had not brought her any of his dragonflies in a long time. Ben never really responded to her comments, keeping instead to what was really a friendly  monologue.     

I mentioned to the owner that I was surprised to discover that the two galleries we walked by were closed. She rather off-handedly replied,

 “They are from Pakistan. Who knows what hours they keep, but the  shop down the street is open.” I do wish I had pursued that conversation a little further, for I was surprised to hear about the Pakistani shopkeepers, but I got distracted by a stack of magazines residing on her counter: the “New Mexico, Special Collector’s Edition” dated February, 1995. It was an issue dedicated to turquoise. She said I was  welcome to take a copy.  We thanked her for her hospitality, and walked out the door.

Tyler and Ben both walked a little ahead of me. Ben kept talking, treating Tyler like an old friend. The gallery was indeed open. There, Ben found other people to talk to, and I found  a lovely bracelet to  replace the Zuni bracelet I bought decades ago. That bracelet eventually lost all its very small inlaid stones.  

As I paid for my purchases (I also bought a wooden salt cellar decorated with hummingbirds in black, blue, and red),  the woman behind the counter spotted the magazine. I told her  it was from just down the street. She was so intrigued, I suggested that she take the copy, and I would stop by the shop and pick up another copy. I did find myself wondering just how much the owners talked to one another. 

After picking up the second copy of the magazine, we then returned to the truck.  The woman at the materials’ shop wanted to know who received the first copy and I explained and thanked her for her generosity.  

We then took a drive down the dirt road that was the street. We knew we were not welcome to go into the area that I think of as the heart of the pueblo. We could do that only if we took the tour, and that certainly made sense to us. As I peruse the New Mexico magazine, I am reminded of the challenges of holding in balance traditional ways, with the influx of money that travelers, settlers, and developers bring.  This has been the case ever since the Spanish, who were more interested in finding wealth rather than balance, first arrived.   

I will digress here, as I just came across an ad in the February 1995 issue of the “New Mexico” magazine that mentions a cookbook, The Best from New Mexico Kitchens. I have that cookbook. It was sent to me many years ago by my mother’s best friend, Arlene Hart. I remember her with love. Her laughter and her books were such a beacon for me in some lonely times.  She wrote in her very intentional handwriting the following inscription on the first page: 

“To Sue Ann Donaldson from Arlene Hart 

Many happy hours

‘slaving  over a hot stove’

To feed your friends ‘Tex-Mex.’”    

   

Arlene was a fine cook, and while there probably were days when she may not have been in the mood to be in the kitchen, preferring instead to sit and read, I don’t think she really thought of herself as a slave. I hope not, anyway.  I must have asked my mother for a recipe for green chili sauce because Arelene highlighted the titles of the following recipes:  green chili sauce, tame green chili sauce,  and salsa. I am smiling.  Arlene always cooked by a recipe; my mother almost never did. That was a source of much laughter between the two of them.     

    

On our way out of Zuni on our way to El Morro and then Albuquerque, we stopped and filled up the truck with gas. Our hope was that at least some of the money would stay in the pueblo, if nothing else to help pay for the salary of the young man who worked there.       

     

Since I have no photographs of Zuni, I am attaching a photograph that was taken at the beautiful Red Rock Canyon State Park, Cantil, CA which is outside of  California City.  I love this image of Tyler, gazing ever further on.   

        

      

Gallup, New Mexico

 When we arrived in Gallup, NM, most of the galleries were already closed. We did find one that was open, and we spent some time there viewing the large collection of jewelry. The person helping us was not American Indian but rather Middle Eastern, and was probably the owner. He  was knowledgeable about the various artists, and appreciative of their work, and we spent some time there.

We had already decided to not try to camp that night, and I asked if he had a hotel recommendation because Gallup has a daunting number of  hotels and motels. He replied that he felt any of them would be fine, but suggested that we at least stop and have a drink at the historic Hotel El Rancho. We did just that, and found ourselves settling in after a long day of driving.

Because I have little to no interest in Western movies or Route 66 lore, I did not expect to like the hotel as much as I did. However, the staff was friendly, and the food and margaritas were tasty, and the family owned hotel was very well maintained.  It opened in 1937, and catered to those working in the film industry, particularly those who were filming Westerns in the area. On the walls are movie posters of by-gone stars such as John Wayne or Errol Flynn. Just about every photograph was of someone dressed in Western garb, often on a horse, with a gun in hand. I found the images unnerving, especially since so many of the staff were Navajo or maybe Zuni or Hopi. However, inertia set in, and we stayed.  Our room was small, but so well kept that I left the last of my cash as a tip for the cleaning staff.  The rooms were named for movie stars. Our room was the Joseph Cotten room, although there was a disclaimer that he probably never stayed at the hotel.

The next morning as I was packing some items into the truck, I was approached by a polite and smiling man. I could not tell you if he was young or old, but I do not believe he was Anglo.  He said that he would not get paid until Monday, and was short of cash. Could  I help him?  Just to let him know I was not insensitive to his situation, I responded that I had to decline because I had already given away my money as a tip for the cleaning staff. He smiled again, nodded his head, and quietly walked away.  Whether he was a well-practiced charlatan, or someone truly in need, or both, I will never know, but the exchange was friendly. This was the only time on the trip when I was ever approached for money, although in  Albuquerque we did see one fairly disheveled man eating a slice of pizza while holding a sign announcing his homeless state.  Also on this trip we saw very little graffiti, and I don’t recall seeing anyone muttering to themselves or yelling and raising their fists at something or someone unseen by those around him. I also don’t remember seeing any political advertisements. Perhaps I am simply revealing my selective memory.    

 

The sign above the entrance to the hotel reads, "Charm of  Yesterday, Convenience of Tomorrow".

From Gallup, we went on to Zuni. I had already written about that experience before, but alas, I accidently but permanently deleted that file, and will need to start over. Thank you for helping  me remember.   

 

            

  

Desert Colors

 "May I trust in the Unfolding Mystery and meet it well.

May I dwell in the land and be nourished by its faith." 

Psalm  37:3  Psalms, Ancient Songs for These Times

Rabbi Yael Levy          

     

 Rabbi Yael has published her book of psalms and I am delighted. It is as beautiful a book as I knew it would be. 

   

These times are certainly testing us. Yet, more importantly, they are strengthening us. Let us set our intentions and continue to love. 

      

       

    

     

image:  Red Rock Canyon State Park, Cantil, CA, April 2026  

  

El Morro

 

Looking at my photographs of El Morro National Monument in New Mexico, I realize that I never did get a definitive picture.  There is the view of El Morro itself (Spanish for “Headlands”). However, El Morro is large and my IPhone is small, so I found it not easy to photograph. From the top there is the beautiful view of Morro Valley. There is also the view of the historic pueblo that sits at the top and is in the process of being refurbished. There is the pool of water at the foot of El Morro which is why it became a stopping place for first the ancient ones who scratched their petroglyphs, and then the Spaniards, who added their elaborate signatures.  As you  can see from the attached photograph, the site is protected to maintain the historical integrity so one cannot really get too close. 

  On a trip decades ago, Tyler and I stopped at El Morro, and we wanted to return to both Zuni and El Morro again. On this trip we walked the path to the top and saw the pueblo and kiva. We then walked the lower path to view the petroglyphs and inscriptions. We talked about trying to spend the night  in the small campground there, but the sites are first come, first served, and they were all taken. The campsite is probably an excellent place to camp and view stars on a clear night.  El Morro is just off of the two lane Hwy 53, so I think the nighttime would be quiet. However, the ultimate quest of our trip was to visit Albuquerque to determine if we might want to live there, and it seemed time to begin that part of the journey, about a two hour drive.

I am having some difficulty gathering my thoughts about our trip. This morning I wrote about visiting Zuni on our way to El Morro and Albuquerque, but I accidently, but nonetheless permanently deleted the file.  I will try again tomorrow. I think I am having some trouble simply settling into being home again, partly because I retired from professional ministry days before we left on this trip.  I have much to process.

Yes, we fell in love with Albuquerque and New Mexico. At times, I have found myself wistfully remembering when I moved from Texas to California. I was 20 something when I  packed everything in my red VW, and off I drove with $200 in my  wallet. This is obviously a different time of my life. As intimidating as a move is, we  are fortunate to have a house to get ready to sell. This will take some time. Hopefully, the economy or the world won’t completely collapse in the meantime. However, just to be on the safe side, I will hold in reserve $200 cash to help get us out of town. For now, I am reading Paul Coelho’s The Alchemist to remind myself to not be afraid to dream.

More to follow! If you want to see the images, please go to my Facebook Page or send me an email to sayarbrough@gmail.com. They are large files.   

 

“As he mused about these things, he realized that he had to choose between thinking of himself as the poor victim of a thief and as an adventurer in quest of his treasure.”  

Paul Coelho, The Alchemist, A Fable About Following Your Dream, p.44 

 

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Jesus as quoted in Matthew 6:21  

           

               

 

Prayers and Prophecy

 "Everyone has a place in the mosaic of peace." 

Pope Leo in today's Vigil for Peace   

      

            

"The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad; 

the desert shall rejoice and blossom like the crocus; 

it shall blossom abundantly

and rejoice with joy and singing."     

Isaiah 35:1-2      

        

image:  Ocotillo,  Kingman, AZ, April 2026

Dreaming of There

 In the dream I am walking

through a desert.

I am seeing rocks on the ground

with the word "There" carved 

in their stone. 

I believe I am following 

the path of an artist.  

There are others with me.  

I wonder about these stones,

where they might be leading 

me.  

We arrive at a hotel 

and we sleep.

It is strange to dream

of falling asleep while sleeping. 

It is not easy to wake up 

while believing I am still

in the dream.   

I stand and look out the window.   

It takes a few moments 

to realize that I am 

not there, I am here,

still in the dream,

still trying to listen to 

the guidance of an artist 

who speaks through carved stones.

How can I tell when 

I am on my way to there?   

Perhaps I am already gone.     

   

say, April 2026    

  

       

  

image: Petroglyph National Monument, Western Trail NW, Albuquerque, March 2026

  

  

 

Tunnel Vision

 We are indeed home. I never expected my travel recollections would begin with this image, but when I spotted it on a cafe wall, I laughed out loud.

 

 On our journey home, we drove the beautiful State Hwy 155 to postpone getting on Hwy 5 as long as possible (Tyler is proving to be a great path finder!) At one point we noticed  a sign for a cafe and market. I remarked that a cup of coffee and a bite to eat sounded good, so we pulled into the parking lot and went in. On the wall of the cafe were several advertisement posters from bygone years and this poster caught my eye.
After we ate and drank some of what was possibly the worst tasting coffee I ever have had, we walked back to the truck. There we were approached by a thin, straight-spined woman who had the appearance of one who worked outdoors for many years. I believe she was older than I, but not by much.
She asked me about our truck, and I explained some of its finer points, including the fact that we appreciate its smaller size. She responded in what I might call a rural accent and lamented that gas prices would probably continue to rise so a smaller truck is probably a good idea. She then added, "I believe we voted in the wrong man. I hope someone better comes along." Trying hard to avoid any snarkiness, I added that I hope he leaves sooner than later, and we said our good-byes.
As we continued our journey through that beautiful verdant land of rolling hills, I realized that we were probably traveling through DT country. In rural countries, higher gas and diesel prices are serious. Ranchers, and certainly farmers as well  have animals to feed and transport, and equipment to maintain. I felt that woman's disappointment and wondered if she would ever vote for a Democrat. I also again wondered if our current color coded two party system has resulted in so much polarization that all of us risk not listening and thinking clearly as we cast our votes.  
Yes, there are indeed some tunnels that lead us astray. May all of us have the courage to simply turn around and explore a new direction.    

       

    

Our trip was filled with wondrous sights, delicious foods, some new jewelry, and many good conversations. I will begin sharing some of my photographs and musings in the next few days. I also plan on exploring using Substack for my writing.  If you have any thoughts or insights you would like to share about this idea, please let me know!