LIFE LESSONS IN JUSTICE
Today, started with donations to The Salvation Army. A trip to Walmart to pick up chewing tobacco. In the parking lot I was approached by a young lady, who while crying, explained a need for monies for a motel room. She was beautiful, blue eyes and yet on the streets. I tryed to help by offering a shower and a floor. The brunet said in so many words within a maze of confused offerings, of what might be considered English; no. An Indian homosexual gave her a few bucks, I gave her 50 cents. I'm moving, and this was explained to her. Her name was Sandra. Her son's name, Scot, who is with his father for unknown reasons. I told her that I ' saw (?)' her and her son five years ago, or at least the names. Maybe she really didn't have a son. She asked me to pray for her. I did and she asked for help, I offered help.
At the steel yard, I delivered an old welder that O.K. Harris had given me. It was a dinosaur to move. The old, yet dependable Toyota SUV, that I bought with 250,00 miles on it, and still going strong after moving tons and tons of cut up sculptures and steel, even withstood, tailgate and all, the 440 pound, dead weight welder. All gone, all Art. I thought for a brief moment that the good in Harris might leave too. I remember. " Aren't women extraordinary," he once asked. I said, " Yes."
I chatted with the attendant at the yard and told her of the young woman at Walmart, how beautiful she was and how she was crying for place to sleep and clean up. How beautiful her eyes were, and how I've seen beauty in brown, black, hazel and green too. How important it is to be well educated and to take advantage of all you can in the straight and narrow. I winked at her and nodded to her daughter. The attendant smiled, " Maybe she did." I smiled brief as I shook the attendants hand. I ' heard ' the names Sonia and then Sandra as I left the steel yard, I then turned up my I-Pod and listened to Led Zepplin's ' Going to California,' and met Sandra. The people we as a society loose with thoughtfulness and purpose. Sandra said she was an orphan, foster homes, until an adult.
After my last donation of plants for the day, from my seemingly endless ' Forest,' I made a trip up to U-Haul It, and searched for an axle for the sculpture to see if making it into a ' Sculpture-trailer,' was feasible. I pictured it in my mind and came up with a design that included the springs, though of smaller dimension and hired a man to remove it for $32.50. Upon payment, the price for the the axle was well over a hundred plus. The same woman with a tattoo of ' JUSTICE,' on her lower arm, above the hand. Her price, two weeks earlier was $ 15.00, about the price, a little lower than a gentleman quoted in referral of this business as honest. Anger, alright,... over. New Mexican at heart, no longer. Will I deal with Mexicans in the future, remains to be seen. My last name, I think that's just about over.
The one thing I hate more than the word ' Nigger ' and the sorry ass white racist trash, is the RACISM that I have endured for a lifetime and more so, now that I can ' hear ' and ' see.'
Some days are just better spent asleep. The only thing worse than giving up your Art for awhile, are your plants. Everything else is expendable. The nature of green is always forgiving through out your lifetime. The beauty of plant life, infinite in color.
Someone told me once, a veteran, that Art serves no purpose. I suppose in New Mexico, he is right. What's the Navy for anyhow?
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