A Liminal Space

I grew up in Texas. But mom and dad’s family lived in Utah and Arizona. If we’re driving, that means one way or another we have to go through New Mexico. So New Mexico is kind of a home to me, since it’s in between the different places I’ve called home in my life.

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The most frequent route that my family takes to get to Snowflake, Arizona is to go up Interstate 25 to Socorro and then turn off at US 60. We go through Truth or Consequences, which I think is the raddest town name ever, and the Valley of the Fires. On a Christmas trip we once stopped for an afternoon at the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Reserve. That was my first time actually seeing ponds frozen over with ice in winter. There were lots of migratory birds, of course, but I mostly remember the bald eagles, probably because they hooked my interest more than the geese.

Sometimes going back east we’ll take a shortcut through Roswell, Ruidoso, and Carlsbad, or sometimes heading up to Utah we will go through Lubbock and cut through the plains of eastern New Mexico to head for Albuquerque. My siblings and I grew up watching Bugs Bunny, so of course we enjoy taking “that left turn at Albuquerque”.

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When I’d finished my freshman year of high school, Dad took Mary Lynne and I out to Arizona to spend a couple of weeks with extended family. On the way we stopped in Ruidoso. Dad was in charge of a boy scout High Adventure camp later in the summer and he wanted to test out some of the trails on the Sierra Blanca. Luckily that year I was in really good shape.

About a year later, on our way to Utah my family had to drive on a Sunday for part of the trip. Trying to do something a little more appropriate for the Sabbath, we camped out at the bottom of a canyon on the Pecos river. My parents’ logic is that we’re not making people work by checking out a hotel room, and we’re in nature enjoying God’s creations. My best memory of that campout was Monday morning when the sun came over the rim of the canyon and bathed everything in golden light.

Bugs Bunny jokes aside, I really do love Albuquerque. It’s a pleasant city to drive through. I like how it’s kind of right in the middle of New Mexico and in the middle of where these different parts of New Mexico come together--the high country, the mountains, the deserts, the plains. I have recently been reading Tony Hillerman’s Leaphorn and Chee mysteries, and my interest in those led me to find a book of Hillerman’s essays about New Mexico. Hillerman writes that part of New Mexico’s attraction for him is that it is a meeting place for different human cultures as well as geographic regions--several different groups of Native Americans, the Spanish colonies, and American settlers. These cultures met in New Mexico, part of movements on their way to or from somewhere else, and yet they (relatively) benignly met and mixed without destroying each other. That notion perfectly fits with my idea of what New Mexico is, a meeting place, or a place that more powerful entities just pass through. Probably because I have passed through there so much.

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Going west from Socorro to get to Snowflake, my family drives past the Very Large Array, a radio telescope you may have heard of. We’d past those radio telescopes looking up at the sky and I’d think about space and the stars.  And then we’d stop at the little corner store in Datil and continue through the little patch of wooded mountains until we got to the juniper-scattered plains on the other side.

Heading to Utah, my family goes west up I-40 from Albuquerque and turns north at Gallup. Then we go up through Shiprock to cut through the southwest corner of Colorado and enter Utah by Monticello. Hillerman’s murder mystery protagonist Jim Chee keeps a trailer down in Shiprock, and he and Joe Leaphorn frequent such locales as Farmington and Gallup in their cases. Talking God even makes reference to Fort Wingate, an abandoned US Army post in western New Mexico--there’s a song about it that the Jennings band plays every Fourth of July.

I started reaching Hillerman’s books in effect because I was a little homesick. The numerous times I have driven through the Navajo reservation have been either going to or from visiting family. And making those same trips over and over again have made me familiar with some of the towns and landmarks along the way. And I love it a lot simply because driving through there meant I wasn’t stuck in Texas, it meant that I was on my way somewhere, on an adventure.

MovieMaps

Since I am a Marvel fan, it bears mentioning that part of the reason I fell in love with the first Thor movie was because the god of thunder landed in New Mexico. Puente Antiguo was actually filmed on location on Galisteo which is just a little bit south of Santa Fe. But it kind of reminded me of the desert south of Socorro, or or maybe southern New Mexico by I-10 west. I felt right at home. Really. The Land of Enchantment was a perfect place for Thor to have his first visit to Midgard, because, like I said, it is a crossroads for many forces--physical, cultural, and spiritual.

What We Leave Behind

Most of you should probably have heard this. If not, you may need to sit down.

My family is--FINALLY--moving to Taylor, Arizona.

So, for anyone in my family or who’s a friend/associate of ours from the Grand Canyon state, yay, it’s good news. If you live in Utah you’ll probably be seeing more of us (I know I’ll enjoy having them close enough to take an occasional weekend trip). And I’m relieved that Dad decided to do this before the Second Coming.

But for our friends back in Texas, it’s kind of a bittersweet moment. Dad moved out to a little town east of San Antonio called Seguin (SEH-geen) to work at the Motorola plant not quite thirty years ago. Motorola has come and gone, but Dad brought Mom to live there and they raised five of us down in a little house right off of 1-10. We went to church in Seguin and school in Marion and although we didn’t have all the cool toys or watch all the popular TV shows we had books and friends and cats and that was enough. I don’t think the people we’ve known and loved in the area can imagine what the world is going to be like without us. I know I can’t.

View out my dad's office window. Notice the goats--
this was obviously a very long time ago

I don’t miss Texas a lot. I had bad experiences at school--some of them, yes, featured me getting bullied. Right up through Senior year. I don’t miss having to drive everywhere to get to a store or to church or to town, half the reason I never moved back. I don’t miss the humidity. Or the bugs--especially the spiders. I won’t miss the floods, and chances are where we’re going we won’t see so many of them. I won’t miss the rattlesnakes we’d occasionally get in our barn, but where we’re going there might still, sadly, be rattlesnakes, probably a different subspecies but still.

I’ll tell you what I DO miss--what I AM going to miss now that my family isn’t there anymore.

I’m going to miss our little house in the country that had grass just soft enough to walk on in the yard. We have like five pecan trees that give us nuts in the fall and in winter we crack them and give them away by the pound to friends and neighbors and ship them to far-off relatives. We have a field that we just let hay grow in and when I was younger dad would build us forts in the barn. Dad has tried getting into raising different kinds of animals--sheep, goats, rabbits pigeons, we were somewhat successful with chickens and ducks. The only critters that really flourished were the cats. We had a garden in the backyard and a little playground that got turned into a treehouse and then a fort that pretty much only the cats used. Part of the reason I turned out an introvert was because I lived too far away from friends to really hang out with them a lot. So that meant I could spend hours walking around in circles around the house and the field and daydream or just go back inside to draw or to read or to watch movies.

Guadalupe River crossing at US 90.

I'm going to miss the hills. Out where I lived there were just low rolling ones everywhere. If you're from Utah, it can seem kind of flat, but compared to, say, Lubbock, it's actually interesting terrain. I thought it was beautiful--it was the most beauty I got to see from day-to-day. And then every so often, my family would drive out into the Hill Country just a little to the west. Big, steep hills covered with brambly forests, a lot less civilized. Definitely a wild place.

I’m going to miss the rolling fields of wheat and corn that line the roads, the pastures full of horses and cattle, the ruined barns and houses that dot the landscape, the thickets of live oak and mesquite that grow here and there. We are out in the boonies enough to still have that small-town/country feel with the authentic drawls and cowboy boots and hats, but close enough to civilization that we feel, well, civilized. Mom and Dad were never really part of that culture anyway--Mom’s from (urban) Utah and my dad’s from Arizona. I built up a tolerance for country music. Enough to say that I like Rascal Flatts and Carrie Underwood and to relate to the lyrics of a few popular singles that I can’t name the artists or titles to.

I might miss Marion, a little, actually. Runs to Dollar General, driving in early on 78 from early morning seminary in Seguin. A small school that doesn’t have a lot of electives but a staff of teachers that was so supportive and wonderful to me and my four siblings. And there was nothing quite like homecoming day when all the girls who were passionate about it wore those frilly, tinkling mums of green and white ribbons.

Pape's Pecan House, Seguin, TX

I’m going to miss Seguin. Driving over the Guadalupe River every time we’d go to town and savoring the view. The Victorian houses. Just driving down College street. The old-town feeling of Court Street, the square behind the courthouse with the fountain and the statue of Juan Seguin that I regret not visiting nearly enough. Don’t get me wrong, the little Mormon meetinghouse on King and College streets is pretty. But the other religious organizations in Seguin have some fine churches too. Driving into town from you can see all the steeples as you come down the hill, and you glimpse them close-up when you drive through town. And then there’s the stores where we’d do our grocery shopping and the old library and just the landmarks you’d learn from driving back and forth a million times. Lazy afternoons at Starke Park. A lot of it has changed, over the years--the old HEB is gone and they built a bigger one. Blockbuster is gone, of course--it got divided into a liquor store and a dental office. And there’s a big, brand new city library downtown.

I’m going to miss the nearby town of New Braunfels. Landa Park. Playing church basketball with the girls over there. Hobby Lobby and Target and all of the best shopping! The hotbed of local German culture and the Edelweiss Inn that was oddly enough featured in a movie I saw at BYU International Cinema. Clear Springs...do they make onion rings like that anywhere else?

I’m going to miss the creeks and the little places for camping in and around Seguin and then the state parks up in the Hill Country (fall is the best time of year for camping in Texas, fall being November). The Hill Country, beautiful and remote and covered with wild forests. Wildflowers, every spring: bluebonnets, Indian paintbrushes, Indian blankets, primroses. Spring is my favorite time of year in Texas. It’s the best place in the world to be in springtime.

More or less what our highways look like in the springtime, in a good year (Pinterest)

I never went to Austin very much--well, except their airport, but that is a small airport that tbh I am glad to see the last of for now. But everyone in that part of Texas knows that Downtown Austin is a place to be avoided at rush hour. The few times I have driven through downtown Austin, though, I loved it. We would combine with the stakes in Austin for Youth Conferences, and let me tell you Austin is where the cool (Mormon) kids are from. A lot of those cool kids are here in Provo.

When people ask me what part of Texas I’m from I say San Antonio. Because it IS the best part. Marion is close enough to the Alamo and the downtown museums that we took epic field trips in elementary school. My parents, they’re from out of state, and they’re...tourists, so they like taking us to the tourist magnet, the Riverwalk in downtown San Antonio, but it’s a beautiful place with bridges and boat rides and the best of local culture on display. Better than Venice. The zoo is...mediocre but the last time I went was over ten years ago. The Japanese Tea Gardens at Brackenridge park are spectacular.  I went on field trips to the auditorium at Trinity University to see plays based on classic short stories when I was in middle school. And then I graduated from high school in that auditorium.

Downtowm SA

San Antonio also has the best freaking NBA team. I am a Spurs fan for life.

The Church built a temple in San Antonio. It has beautiful stained-glass windows and in one of the ordinance rooms a mural of the Hill Country with wildflowers painted by a lady from my home ward, the late Ardyth Haecker. It was completed in 2005 and the night before the dedication I was part of an enormous cultural celebration in the Alamodome. The temple is on Stone Oak parkway, overlooking Loop 1604 (another place to avoid during rush hour), right on top of a hill at the edge of the Hill Country.

Corpus Christi is where my family would go to the beach. And it's getting its own post.

Gosh, I love Texas history. I grew up right in the middle of where some of the more significant events happened, so I’m biased. But we had our own war of Independence from Mexico. We had an epic last stand at the Alamo. I read a biography of Sam Houston a few years ago and let me tell you, we need more people like him in today’s government. He may have been from a pro-slavery state but he was vehemently against the other southern states’ wanting to break with the Union right up until the Civil War, at least that’s what I gathered.

And NO state has state pride like Texas. I may live anywhere else in the world, but I will always own my Texas pride.

I like to think that the Texas flag is made out of part of the US flag.

Edit of a personal photo of the Alamo

I’m going to miss the culture. There’s the cowboy/folk/country element, for sure. My brother David spent several years growing up playing fiddle at the local oprys and I went to a few of his shows--lemme tell ya. But there is also a strong Latino heritage in the area, lots of Spanish place names and architecture and glorious, glorious mariachi music.

Also, the FOOD. Food is very important in south-central-whatever-Texas. Everybody (except me) loves spicy food. My home ward would do a chili cookoff nearly every year. My mother is going to miss the tamales. I’m going to miss the breakfast tacos made on homemade flour tortillas, wrapped in tinfoil, stuffed with cheese, egg, potato sausage, bacon, onions, refried beans, and other fillings and toppings to taste.

arielle clementine

My mom served her mission in Houston, Spanish-speaking. We almost never went to Houston (but before the temple in San Antonio was built the adults in my ward would go to the temple there every so often, and let me tell you the Houston Temple is beautiful). But my mom learned to make somewhat authentic Mexican food--enchiladas, fajitas. We’re taking that with us. To this day a quesadilla is a staple of my diet.

I’m going to miss driving through West Texas. Yes, it’s a pain in the butt, but I learned to enjoy the ride, especially when every landmark we passed would mean we were that much closer to that somewhere else we wanted to be. You go into the Hill Country, and then pass through lots of plateaus and buttes right up until you reach Fort Stockton, and then after that you’re in a desert and it’s so barren that you can feel the moisture coming off your skin, but at least there’s mountains. And then, after like six hours and six hundred miles, you’re in El Paso.

Butte visible from Interstate 10 just outside of Fort Stockton

It’s not just saying goodbye to all of these places, though. Moving means saying goodbye to all of the people that my family has spent the last twenty-odd years building relationships with. Each ward unit in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is supposed to be like a family, but no ward IS a family more than the Seguin Ward of the Kyle Texas Stake. When my dad moved there, it was just a branch. There was a Spanish branch there for a little while, but we’ve been a ward since I was a kid. Dad got to be bishop for a little while, even. There weren’t a lot of girls in my young women’s group, but they were some of my best friends growing up. Our chapel has hymnals in both English and Spanish.

There’s a handful of families that have been there as long as Dad has, if not longer. And there are families that come and go that you never forget. Some of them are transplants from Utah/Idaho/Arizona, like my folks. Some of them are local. A lot of them are converts. We have dinners parties like no one’s business--Thanksgiving, Christmas, Halloween, boy scout fundraisers, that sort of thing. Back in the day when General Conference was only broadcast to the chapels we would have pot-lucks in between the Sunday sessions.  And yes, we take turns feeding the missionaries.

LDS Chapel, Seguin

On the Stake level, we’ve made a lot of unforgettable friends too. Up until 2008, we were part of the San Antonio East Stake. Then we got put into the Kyle stake. Our stake center in Kyle is a 45-minute drive from my house and it made no sense for my family to attend functions there. But we stuck it out. We made it work. We have friends clear up and down I-35 from the east side of San Antonio to New Braunfels to Buda, friends with whom we share a common faith. After Dad got released from being bishop he served off and on in the high councils of both stakes. Since he and mom both speak fluent Spanish they have usually been assigned to work with the Spanish-speaking members on ward and stake levels.

We have friends outside of the church, too. My mom says that her co-workers at the Seguin hospital are like family to her, and she will miss them. I didn’t have a lot of friends at school--I had social problems. The few I did have were priceless. I sadly didn’t realize it until my last couple years of high school. But I did learn. No one can ever take their place.

Texas was never home for my mom and dad. Other people who live there, they have their parents and siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins living close by, they get together every so often. We have to travel out of state to see our extended family. But now Dad is moving back to his hometown, we’re renting a house from his aunt right next door to a place where one of my cousins is living and a couple of doors down from a few other cousins. It takes two minutes to drive to his mom’s house, but if there’s good weather and you feel up to it you can walk.  Mom can take weekend trips up to Utah to see her family. That’s their idea of being home. So I’m happy for them. And I’m happy for my younger siblings who get to have that experience.

Winter Sunset, I-10 West of Seguin

That little house in Texas is home to me in the sense that it’s where my story began. It’s the place that, after much trial and adversity, I was able to get away from in order to accomplish Great Things™. It’s enough of a home that I have a few ideas for potential fantasy novels set in that region, so if I want to take a trip back I can definitely call it “book research”. If I’m ever successful as an author, I will come back for book tours and give inspirational speeches to kids telling them that they should read books and go places in life. Yes, Texas is home, but there is so much more to the world.

So the Cole family is leaving Texas. We're going to be closer to our extended family. But we will miss the family that we had here. We will remember it as a place of the world that we made a little brighter. That is reason enough to say we’re happy that we were there.

Seven Favorite Films from BYU International Cinema

One of my favorite pastimes as a BYU student was going to BYU International Cinema. Sometimes I’d have the good fortune of going with friends, but like most things I enjoy in life for the most part I went by myself. The humanities department would release the semester’s film schedule and I’d eagerly devour the film synopses, but as life intervened I could only make it to so many of the films I actually wanted to see. And I didn’t enjoy all of the films I actually got to see. As it turns out, I don’t like Kung Fu movies: Hero and Jade Warrior were both weird and maybe my tolerance for action films only goes so far. The only Kurosawa film I was able to see was Kagemusha and I didn’t like it that much. In Hindi Bollywood musicals everybody cries too much. But here’s a list of a few--just a few--of the International movies I saw that I liked.

The Orphanage (El Orfanato)--Ok, this one is rated R in the states, but since it’s BYU they edited the one graphic scene (that’s the nice thing about BYU IC, since they edit the questionable stuff) so other than that it could pass for PG-13. Yes it is supposed to be a scary ghost story, and the ending is really sad. But the story is very well-written and centers around the mom trying to figure out the disappearance of her son and why the place is haunted, and it is very cool to watch how she solves it.

YTV

This was the one Spanish film that I reported on for my Spanish classes that I actually enjoyed--the other two were boring documentaries. And then I went to see Death of a Cyclist my last term just for kicks and it was downright disturbing.

Howl’s Moving Castle--Bear with me, I am not a Studio Ghibli fan. I saw parts of Spirited Away at a family reunion and I was totally weirded out. But Howl’s Moving Castle is Steampunk and had fantasy elements I was a little more comfortable with. Sophie learns to stand up for herself and Howl gets his...issues sorted out. Plus the supporting characters are fantastic.

Film Takeout

On the way out of the showing, I ran into a friend of mine who explained that in the English dubbing Calcifer’s line about the bacon burning is different. So last summer when I saw someone wearing this shirt I understood the reference:

Calcifer for President: May All Your Bacon Burn In 2016
Chickadee Solutions

The Hedgehog--I didn’t get to see nearly enough French films. This one was a gem. It is based on a book called The Elegance of the Hedgehog that my mom actually read once and I saw lying around the house, so I actually read the jacket summary. The story is about a girl who wants to commit suicide, but then befriends a Japanese gentleman who moves into her apartment building and then the grumpy concierge downstairs. Their friendships change all of them for the better.

Newtopia Magazine

Jodha Akbar--This is officially my favorite Bollywood movie. For a Hindi musical, this one didn’t have a lot of crying. What it does have is spectacular musical numbers, beautiful costumes, a great story rooted in India’s history, and spectacular action sequences. Princess Jodha is the strong female heroine that everyone deserves. Emperor Akbar is hot stuff but he is also a courageous, tolerant, forward-thinking monarch who takes zero crap from courtiers who plot against him. My favorite part? When they FINALLY fall in love and consummate the marriage (nothing shown but you get the idea).

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twi-ny.com

New York Doll--The thing about BYU International Cinema is that sometimes they show American films that students might otherwise dismiss. This documentary from the Sundance Film Festival was a surprise favorite. It follows the conversion story of Arthur “Killer” Kane from the New York Dolls. Kane had a hard time dealing with the breakup of his band. After joining the Church, he asked Heavenly Father for the chance to make amends with his former band mates.  Now I’d thought after joining the Church Kane would put his old life behind him forever, but that wasn’t what the band reunion was about for him: it was about forgiveness. I learned that if something matters to us, then it matters enough to our Father in Heaven for Him to help us obtain it. All we need to do is ask.

Bliss (Mutluluk)--A girl from a small village in Turkey is raped. Local custom dictates that she must die to uphold family honor. She declines to hang herself so she is sent to Istanbul with a guy from her village who is supposed to shoot her. He chickens out. They go hide on a fish farm and then go on a cruise with a retired professor. Predictably the victim falls in love with the guy sent to kill her. The guy figures out who the real rapist is and justice is served. I love justice.

Slant Magazine

12--This was the only Russian film I had the chance to see. It was three hours long and it was worth every minute. A Chechen boy is accused of murdering his Russian foster father. The jury is locked up in a high school gym overnight to decide his fate. They go through the evidence and, one by one, they puzzle out the truth and their minds are changed. The story is incredible to watch unfold, and the twelve jurors each have different backstories and personalities and it’s fun to watch them interact. I would watch it again without hesitation.

New York Times

A Snapshot of the Past

This last weekend I was at my grandma's house. My grandma recently had an important visitor come: that is, her pen pal from France. How Grandma came by this pen pal is another story (that perhaps I could share another time). One of the gifts that the pen pal brought with her was a copy of the Match magazine from 1940, the year Gradma was born. The featured article for the magazine issue was a piece on Vivien Leigh and the premiere of Gone With the Wind. However, there were several pages of the issue covering the current events of the period, namely the Second World War. I thought some of my readers might find this interesting.

On the right in the above photo is the Match issue from 1940. On the left is a Match issue from a month or so ago, covering the terrorist attack in Nice. I'll let this speak for itself.

A full-page article of war news in the 1940 issue of Match.

So this was an interesting section of the magazine. It showed a diagram of a tank.

Here's a close-up of the tank on the right page.

On the left page, we have a shot-by-shot series of photos of a tank bursting through a brick wall.

Now here's a part I thought was cool: a two-page feature on the women of the British armed services.

It's funny because there was a woman in Grandma's ward about six years ago who was part of the British military during the war and I actually got to meet her once.

If you can read French, feel free to zoom in on these photos and see if you can translate.