A Sort of a Memoir

I've known Judy Mangan vaguely for many years, more in the last few through email and some professional dealings--TCU Press, when I was director, reprinted some Mangan Books titles and Judy and I had quite a bit of correspondence. But I didn't really "know" her until I read her memoir which does exactly what a well written memoir should do: it brings the writer alive on the page for us. Judy eschews the traditional narrative for a series of anecdotes--and she really has an ear for telling the attention-getting story. Some of these anecdotes are no more than a paragraph but they go together like the pieces of a quilt so that when you've finished reading, you have a picture or pattern.
The book is divided into chronological chapters--childhood, high school, college, marriage, and so on. There's a chapter on Mangan Books and one called "Lest We Forget" which neatly encompasses the geneaological material. And unusual for many small-press memoirs, this book has an index--the mark of a true professional.
Judy--or Jude as she asked her children to call her--has the disconcerting habit of throwing characters into the story before we're aware they exist. She does that with Frank, her husband of many years, now gone, and with her children--we have no idea that she has children until she tells a story from their childhood. None of this "On such-and-such a date I gave birth" stuff for her. You catch on pretty quickly. And she is refreshingly frank about some things most of us would skirt in a memoir.
Much of this book is directed at El Pasoans--she's pretty specific about people, places,and events, so that it's the quintessential memoir for family and friends. But the rest of us will find gems to remember and savor. If you're old enough, you'll remember the loops and circles of the Palmer method of handwriting, and I was absolutely delighted to come across the complete text of 'Little Nell," a melodrama I remember from Girl Scout days: "Twas a  year ago today/That my Nellie went away" and so on until the bitter end when Little Nell comes home with her baby, having been abandoned by the lothario she ran away with. There's mention of one of my favorite people--the late C. L. "Doc" Sonnichsen, and a neat final chapter on "My Philosophy" with such treasures as: "You're not sinning unless you're enjoying it," [Baptist philosohy according to Wally Shied]' or "From that time (1593) healthy interest in gold and jewels had to be played down while a passion for making worried Christians out of satisfied savages had to be played up," [C. L. Sonnichsen, Pass of the North]. Perhaps my favorite is a quote from Katherine  Jefferts Shori, Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church of the U.S.A. when asked if Jesus is the only way to get to heaven: "We who practice the Christian tradition understand him as our vehicle to the divine. But for us to assume that God could not act in other ways is, I think, to put God in an awfully small box."
Get to know Judy Mangan. You'll like her. Unfortunately the book is not listed on Amazon, but you can send a check for $16 to Mangan Books, 4855 N. Mesa, Suite 120, El Paso TX 79912.

Searching for Salpicon in El Paso

Salpicon is ubiquitous in El Paso restaurants. It's a salad of shredded beef (or chicken or whatever but usually beef) with peppers and a vinaigrette dressing. Carol had it Thursday at the restaurant friends took us too, but I was afraid of the peppers and had a club sandwich was was, at best, ordinary.
We stayed at the Camino Real which, in the good old days used to be Paseo del Norte, a grand hotel with a magnificent Tiffany dome, now over the bar area. The hotel is to be blunt a bit shabby, though they were quick  to fix a leak in our sink and a lightbulb that wouldn't work (we didn't know to turn on the switch by the door!). But downtown El Paso is a strange mix of decline and update--lots of empty buildings, cheap store fronts, mixed with apparently recently redone plazas, a great museum, library. Many things were under construction, and it got worse Saturday as they blocked off areas to prepare for Mardi Gras. So we were hard put to find restaurants.
Thursday night we had a drink in the hotel bar--pretty watery chardonnay--and then went across the street to The Oasis, which surprised us. Really nice food, wonderful presentation, all with an Oriental touch. I had smoked salmon on whipped cream cheese--ok, not culturally indigenous.
Breakfast was a problem. We had been warned away from the hotel coffee shop which only offered a buffet for $13.99 that wasn't very good. But friends who arrived a day earlier had found a home-cooking style restaurant about four blocks away, so we went there both mornings and were greeted by hordes of others who were attending the Texas State Historical Association meetings. I never did try the Mexican breakfasts, though they looked good. Carol had menchaca one morning and choked on a piece of jalopeno, so I knew it was not for me. But I had grand hash browns, eggs, and, one morning, the rare treat of breakfast links.
Lunch was another problem. Thursday a friend took us to a restaurant out by the University of El Paso, and I got a chance to view the campus. We were four jolly females and had a good time at lunch in spite of my ordinary club sandwich--I should have ordered salpicon.
Friday was an awards luncheon for the convention and a TSHA board member who shall remain nameless snuck us into the luncheon--Carol had a ticket but had left it in the room, and the board member passed me off as an author. Well, it turned out that an author named Alter had won an award but wasn't there to accept it--so I ate his lunch. Except his wife turned up to accept the award. No one evicted me, and I enjoyed a good lunch of chicken with a cherry sauce, on spinach and rice.
The highlight of our El Paso dining came when we explored, on recommendation, and went to a new restaurant, La Jolla Kitchen, way out in a strip mall. It was worth the long trip. The management was still experimenting, so they served us two complimentary amuse bouche--one a hamachi with too much pepper for me, the other a marvelous sea scallop on risotto. For an entree Gayla and I shared a rack of lamb with asparagus and fingerling potatoes, and Caitlin and Carol split a rib-eye steak (grass fed). Absolutely delicious. Lamb is such a treat to me, and this was cooked to perfection--still pink but warm. The waiter convinced us that one rack of lamb wasn't enough for two people, so we ordered crispy quail with hoisin bbq sauce--too hot for all of us but Caitlin, and I noticed they didn't charge us. For dessert, which we wouldn't have ordered, they brought two samples--a cheesecake with agave sauce (superb) and a chocolate cake that was too dry. All in all, it was a wonderful dining experience. I don't expect to be back in El Paso soon but if I am, I'll go back to La Jolla Kitchen.
Saturday lunch was more problematical. The Oasis was closed, the Central Cafe, a block away but fondly remembered by Carol, was closed. Someone recommended a restaurant about four blocks away--hah! More like eight. We walked and walked. Carol walks fast, and I got winded. She'd sit me on a bench and go ahead to explore. When she finally found the restaurant it was closed. So we went back to the hotel, to that much maligned casual restaurant, and had a fair to good meal. I finally had salpicon, although the chicken wasn't shredded. It struck me as nothing more than sliced chicked on greens witha chipotle lime dressing. But it was good.
I've since looked up recipes for salpicon--I thought it was pronounced with a soft "c" but Carol thought it was a hard "c" and turned out to be right. I made it once several years ago. The recipe included poblanos in adobo sauce, and I had no idea how hot adobo sauce is. Even the first night it was too hot for me, and I gave it to a friend who said it kept getting hotter and hotter until they couldn't eat it. Now I'll try again, with a better idea of what it can be and a better control of the flavors.

Day Four--and more snow!

When I got up this morning about 5 a.m. to feed the persistent cat (no, I did not stay up!) I wondered why my neighbors white stucco house seemed to almost glow. Then I realized there was a white glow to the whole outdoors--yep., 4.5 inches of fresh snow on top of the ice we already had. Above is the view from my front door, looking down the street that sort of dead-ends into my house. I didn't venture beyond the front door and never did get a newspaper. What that new snow meant, of course, is that the snow, pretty as it was, covered up the ice, so you couldn't tell what you were walking on. Christian's proposed grocery trip for me disappeared, as did my date with Jacob tonight, so it's been another long day at home.  A bright spot in the day was another bit of neighborhly concern--I looked out to see the young teenager, maybe fourteen, from across the street shoveling my walk. I called my thanks and asked if I could pay him; he declined. The next time I looked, his mom was out there with him, throwing rock salt on the sidewalk. It is lovely to live in this neighborhood where people care about each other. Thanks to Atticus Johnson and his mom, Margaret, and to Meredith Latimer for visiting me yesterday at some peril to herself and her three-year-old--that icy driveway was difficult for a very pregnant young woman to navigate.

Don't get me wrong--I have plenty of work to do and spent a lot of today working on marketing my e-books. Pretty good success in following some complicated (to me) directions. Even found an almost-free picture for "The Art of Candle Dipping." The wax vat looks like one the pioneer housewife would have used--and sort of like the one in our Log Cabin Village where I got the story. But that housewife hand dipped candles one at a time, without a fancy rack like this. Still I think it's a good picture, and I sent it to a designer with about ten words of copy and the challenge to make it a vertical cover at least 600 pixels tall.
I also bought a round-trip plane tricket to El Paso. I'll go with Carol Roark for two days at the Texas State Historical Association meetings--never thought I'd go back to El Paso, having been there once thirty-some years ago. I was asked, sort of last minute, to write a paper on juvenile historical novels, filling in for someone who withdrew. My first response was that I'd be glad to do the paper but there was no way I was going to El Paso. A friend agreed to read it for me. I began to realize a lot of my friends will be there, and Carol said she wanted to go and share a room, so I began to think about it. Flying is a big deal for me, not something I do gracefully, nor do I walk into strange situations with ease. But I'm determined to widen the circle of my experience--and to gear myself up for a possible trip to Scotland with Colin and Megan. So this mini-trip is a practice run. I've been known to make arrangements before and cancel them, but I'm determined no to do that this time.
Meantime I set the table for nine tonight, which meant dragging out the leaves from under my bed--my goodness, were they dusty! And I got one I could not fit in--it had pegs on the wrong side everywhere I put it. I began to feel that I was working a Chinese puzzle. But I finally put it back and got out another one. I have four leaves in the table and a tablecloth meant for it to have five leaves (which won't fit in my dining room anyway). But the cloth drags at either end, and I shall undoubtedly trip on it and yank all the dishes off the table.
The menu? I'm still going through my cupboards and freezer, seeing what I can put together without going to the grocery--which would probably be okay tomorrow afternoon but not in time to cook for dinner. There will be three children, and I have cheese, hot dogs, clementines, and ice cream for them.  Should be an interesting evening--just hope all those four young men don't go away hungry. More tomorrow night.

The news is not good

I am distrubed--devastated?--by some of the things in the news these days, though I rejoice that the 11-year-old Florida girl was found alive and well (except for dehydration and mosquito bites). We hear so many cases of children disappearing that it is truly a blessing to have one with a happy ending. Makes me so scared for my grandchildren, I can hardly stand it. I look back with amazement at the things my chldren did 30 years ago, and I never worried about them. Today I'd panic if my grandchildren wandered around the neighborhood alone.
Adoption is a big issue for me, with four wonderful adopted children, so I am seriously disturbed by the story of the 7-year-old Russian boy who was put on a plane by himself and returned to Russia. There's been a lot on the news about how children raised in orphanages, with little human contact, have not learned to trust and may lash out. It seems to me that adoptive mother was not properly prepared for what she was going into nor did she get counseling when it went wrong. I suspect she expected a grateful, perfectly loving child, which is unrealistic. I am glad to hear that several Russian families want to adopt the child but think how scarred he is for life. I have however known famlies that adopted Russian chldren, worked at it, and their family life turned out okay. I really am angry at the adoptive mothr in this case. Again, I look at my grandchildren, and think how they are hugged and petted and talked to, told they're wonderful (and, of course, they are!) and I grieve for the children, even in this country, who do not have that kind of love. The director of the Lena Pope Home for disadvantaged children told me once, "No one ever told these kids they were okay," and his words stuck with me. A friend told me about her ex-husband's children's mother who would not allow anyone to touch her children as babies, talk to them, hug them, etc. They were simply in their cribs. By the time the oldest was five--when my friend inherited him--he was incorrigible.
And then I read in the paper that El Paso is about to be "ground zero" for a war between two gangs with cartel connections. I have several friends who live there and I emailed one to ask if she was okay. She is, but she said she's careful. She's noticed that the stores are not fully stocked, and the city is full of refugees fleeing Ciudad Juarez. She's seen more Chihuahua license plates than ever before, and every night on the news there are reports of more murders in Juarez, many of innocent people. The people of El Paso wonder how our government can stand by and do nothing, and I do too-although there are probably plans being laid that we know nothing about. Still, it is a horrendous situation.
And today there was news of a 17-year-old boy in Fort Worth shot in the head when he went home for lunch and surprised burglars.
Is there no end? I want some good news. I guess the nuclear arms treaty with Russia rates pretty high on the good news list, but then there's Rep. Boehmer's assertion that the Republicans will take over Congress in 2010 and roll back everything the Obama government has accomplished--like international goodwill? Health care (for sure)? Unemployment compensation? Environmental controls (okay, forget off-shore drilling--it's a trade-off)? It boggles the mind--and scares me.