The Message
Orlandp Lujan Martinez
If you read between the lines of the bible you will discover the true message of the Bible-the word of God-which the religious martyrs feel is so important that it is worth dying for. The Bible was written in a direct word for word literary manner that tends to make it confusing to many people and its message obscure. This requires the reader to interpret what is really going on between the lines of the seemingly obscure rhetoric of the Bible.
Thus the German protestant theologian and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer (executed by the Nazi’s in 1945) can write in The Cost of Discipline: “Jesus does not promise that when we bless our enemies and do good to them they will not use and persecute us. They certainly will. But not even that can hurt or overcome us, as long as we pray for them. For if we pray for them, we are taking their distress and poverty, their guilt and perdition, upon ourselves, and pleading to God for them. We are doing vicariously what they can not do for themselves. Every insult that they mutter only binds us more closer to God and them. Their persecution of us only serves to bring them nearer to reconciliation with God and further the triumphs of love.”
But the word “martyr” does not mean, in the original greek, the acceptance of death, it means “witness” -one who testifies with their very being, body and soul and this they accomplish as ordinary person, intractable and patience in their defense of the truth.
I have followed him home, here, to the cross. If I must mount it, he assures me, I will not do it alone.
In death the martyrs says to others, What I believe in is so important that it is worth dying for.
Oscar Arnulfo Romero Archbishop of San Salvador said days before he was murdered, “Tell the the people that if they(The death Squad's hired but the rich) succeed in killing me, that I forgive them and bless those who do it. Hopefully they will realize they are wasting their time. A Archbishop will die, but the church of God, which is the people, will never perish.
And you will know the truth and the truth will set you free, John 8:32
...the agony and courage of a Nazarene carpenter who refused, 2,000 years ago, to hold his tongue to please the powerful.
but Jesus actions at the Temple had another purpose as well; to demonstrate to the masses that they had the right and the power to challenge those who lorded over them.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Captain Courages
Captain Courageous
Orlando Lujan martinez
I walked up to my dying fathers hospital bed, took his hand and said hello father and was surprised when, from his gaunt face came the clear innocent voice of a young boy. The boy who herded sheep with his father. I was astonished and listened with wonder, eyes filling with tears and a small grasp of wonder almost escaped my lips. The light in the room became pure and bright and a stunning summer day lay in Gods splendor outside my fathers hospital room. It was a lovely day.
A Tsunami survivor said he fled with many people up a hillside to escape the Tsunami. They were frightened and he was standing alone on a hillside, desperately worried about his brother, who disappeared during the Tsunami, when a man detached himself from his wife and three children, walked over and invited him to be part of his family. He said that in spite of the devastation, carnage, tragedy, grief and the death of people, friends and family there was, “a exhilarating feeling of love between the survivors.” Who was the creator of this moment?
In the old 1930s movie Captain Courageous, the captain, played by Spencer Tracy, is pinned against the side of his sailing ship by the rigging of a sail that broke off during the storm. The waves are crashing against the ship and will eventually pull Captain Courageous to his death. Suddenly the cabin boy, played by nine year old Freddie Bartholomew, rushes up and desperately clutches the captains hand, he loves the captain, and does not want him to die. He is sobbing and begging the captain not to die. The captain, who is in terrible pain, tells the cabin boy, in a gentle voice, “Don’t worry about me. It’s okay. I am ready. You don’t cry to much about me. Have a happy life.” As he assures the boy he shows no fear and his eyes are full of concern for the sobbing boy.
The great transformation day is here for Captain courageous, he has faced death and won several times before, but now he knows death is inevitable and is using his death as a way to teach the young lad how to die with courage. With Gods grace the captain is showing the young boy that death can be bravely met and can be defeated, and is not just just a sorrow but also revelation. Death is nothing life is everything he is teaching. So that in the distant years, the young boy will remember this shinning moment, as a beautiful but tragic memory and will, at the time of his death, use it to give him the courage, to be like Captain Courageous.
The broken rigging creaks, a grimace of pain crosses the captains face, and the sea rises in fury. Several of the ships crew rush up, pulling the sobbing cabin boy away just as the sea takes the captain to his death.
Love and God is there In Darkness at Noon, Arthur Koestlers book about the Spanish Civil War. He writes about a member of the International Brigades who discovers Gods love in a barren cell of a prison where the fascist dictator Francisco Franco has put him to be executed.
The prisoner stands, in the dark, head tipped listening intently, in a aura of peace, with love and sadness to the voices of his doomed communist comrades coming across the inner yard of the prison, bravely singing The International, the anthem of International Communism and the Proletarian, the noble cause of the martyrs. In death the martyrs says to others: What I believe in is so important that it is worth dying for.
Note: Thus the German protestant theologian and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer (executed by the Nazi’s in 1945) can write in The Cost of Discipline: “Jesus does not promise that when we bless our enemies and do good to them they will not use and persecute us. They certainly will. But not even that can hurt or overcome us, as long as we pray for them. For if we pray for them, we are taking their distress and poverty, their guilt and perdition, upon ourselves, and pleading to God for them. We are doing vicariously what they can not do for themselves. Every insult that they mutter only binds us more closer to God and them. Their persecution of us only serves to bring them nearer to reconciliation with God and further the triumphs of love.”
Orlando Lujan martinez
I walked up to my dying fathers hospital bed, took his hand and said hello father and was surprised when, from his gaunt face came the clear innocent voice of a young boy. The boy who herded sheep with his father. I was astonished and listened with wonder, eyes filling with tears and a small grasp of wonder almost escaped my lips. The light in the room became pure and bright and a stunning summer day lay in Gods splendor outside my fathers hospital room. It was a lovely day.
A Tsunami survivor said he fled with many people up a hillside to escape the Tsunami. They were frightened and he was standing alone on a hillside, desperately worried about his brother, who disappeared during the Tsunami, when a man detached himself from his wife and three children, walked over and invited him to be part of his family. He said that in spite of the devastation, carnage, tragedy, grief and the death of people, friends and family there was, “a exhilarating feeling of love between the survivors.” Who was the creator of this moment?
In the old 1930s movie Captain Courageous, the captain, played by Spencer Tracy, is pinned against the side of his sailing ship by the rigging of a sail that broke off during the storm. The waves are crashing against the ship and will eventually pull Captain Courageous to his death. Suddenly the cabin boy, played by nine year old Freddie Bartholomew, rushes up and desperately clutches the captains hand, he loves the captain, and does not want him to die. He is sobbing and begging the captain not to die. The captain, who is in terrible pain, tells the cabin boy, in a gentle voice, “Don’t worry about me. It’s okay. I am ready. You don’t cry to much about me. Have a happy life.” As he assures the boy he shows no fear and his eyes are full of concern for the sobbing boy.
The great transformation day is here for Captain courageous, he has faced death and won several times before, but now he knows death is inevitable and is using his death as a way to teach the young lad how to die with courage. With Gods grace the captain is showing the young boy that death can be bravely met and can be defeated, and is not just just a sorrow but also revelation. Death is nothing life is everything he is teaching. So that in the distant years, the young boy will remember this shinning moment, as a beautiful but tragic memory and will, at the time of his death, use it to give him the courage, to be like Captain Courageous.
The broken rigging creaks, a grimace of pain crosses the captains face, and the sea rises in fury. Several of the ships crew rush up, pulling the sobbing cabin boy away just as the sea takes the captain to his death.
Love and God is there In Darkness at Noon, Arthur Koestlers book about the Spanish Civil War. He writes about a member of the International Brigades who discovers Gods love in a barren cell of a prison where the fascist dictator Francisco Franco has put him to be executed.
The prisoner stands, in the dark, head tipped listening intently, in a aura of peace, with love and sadness to the voices of his doomed communist comrades coming across the inner yard of the prison, bravely singing The International, the anthem of International Communism and the Proletarian, the noble cause of the martyrs. In death the martyrs says to others: What I believe in is so important that it is worth dying for.
Note: Thus the German protestant theologian and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer (executed by the Nazi’s in 1945) can write in The Cost of Discipline: “Jesus does not promise that when we bless our enemies and do good to them they will not use and persecute us. They certainly will. But not even that can hurt or overcome us, as long as we pray for them. For if we pray for them, we are taking their distress and poverty, their guilt and perdition, upon ourselves, and pleading to God for them. We are doing vicariously what they can not do for themselves. Every insult that they mutter only binds us more closer to God and them. Their persecution of us only serves to bring them nearer to reconciliation with God and further the triumphs of love.”
Here Chickee Chickee
Here Chickee Chickee
Orlando Lujan Martinez
Because something bad was happening everyday somewhere somehow Vincent Rodney started to question the sanity of everyone: including himself. He needed some questions answered. Who are you? Why all these mess ups? Who can be trusted? Why is everyone wearing a mask? Is everyone craze? and whatever ever happened to integrity, sincerity, honesty, righteousness and plain common sense? And why is the Easter Bunny, Tickle me Elmo and Chicken Little hiding under a bush in the backyard. Do they know something he doesn't know. Here chickee, chickee.
When Rodney has trouble sleeping he descended down the curving stair case into the living room of his luxurious house, on a hill, where he sat in the dark listening to Joni James singing When You Wish Upon a Star, with the curtains open, wondering, lonely and looking down on the twinkling lights of the city. (Where at the Casino Royal a man in a black suit and bowed tied, recently arrived in a French gray and opal blue limousine, is betting 10,000 dollars on the next roll of the dice. He has the confidence of one that can afford to lose. At his side Pinky Purdom smiles in a gold satin sheen evening gown.) A white bone moon stood over the house on the hill.
Rodney is lonely, and insecure because he thinks no one has any respect for him despite his brand spanking new car, groomed looks, wonderful personality and beautiful house. Some times his insecurity would turn into anger and make him an aggressive driver, and just this morning he got angry and cut off a car because it was going to slow. The guy kept following Rodney honking his horn real mad. Rodney flipped him a birdie.
The drivers replied was to put his arm out the window and fired a couple of shots which was, in Rodney opinion, in step with the growing violence in American society. Rodney was shocked and frightened but also knew something like this would happen sooner or later. So he was going to start carrying a gun under a newspaper on the front seat for protection and just in case. Where are the cops when you need them?
Rodney always worried something or someone somewhere somehow in someway would snap. What would snap was anyone's guess. And who knows what’s on the menu of the paranoid mind after decades of posing as a sane person.
Rodney's garage is full of survival equipment: ten drums of gas, ten drums of water, an electric generator and stacks of canned food. All the stuff he will need when environment collapses. The government pamphlet didn’t mention toilet paper: a absolute necessity in an emergency and one of the civilized worlds greatest contributions to society or the guns, the bullet proof vest, gas mask and plenty of ammunition, just in case.
When the Nuremberg trial judge sentence Herman Goring sentenced him to death. Goring said “I don’t care I lived well for 15 years.” A practical approach which Rodney didn’t have. He was scared and a guy who is always looking around for a way to get out of life without dying.
The government pamphlet also said when the Pandemic Flu gets to your town, presumedly on the back of a Road Island Red Chicken, your survival is going to depend on you. Wash your hands frequently stay away from coughing. Don’t expect them to save us. Don’t go to the hospital because they will be packed full and there is no cure for the flu anyway. Bad news, and he had foolishly thought that money, democracy medical science and a roll in the hay was the answer to everything. Even the very wealthy are going to pay this time because there is no place to run anywhere anyhow. The Casino Royal will close because the croupiers, kitchen help and maids will be home sick or dead. Pinky Purdom's paramour will be still bowed tied but this time in a coffin.
Rodney hope his neighbors have prepared for the coming catastrophe because if they come over to beg for food he just won’t answer the door just like he did with the Jehovah Witnesses. And just in case they persist well....
In addition to all of Rodney personal problems, real and unreal, over or under the counter, cause by other people, of course, there's been more bad school shootings and the bad news from Iran is that they are going to build a nuclear bomb. They say If we have some then they want some too and then, too boot, there is world warming, militant Islamic terrorism in Afghanistan, Iraq and other parts of the world.
And North Korea has set off a nuclear bomb. They say the leader of North Korea is a nut case and might do something somewhere that wasn't nice. The only answer for Rodney had was to keep spending, keep up a good front, and hope the politicians will find a way to avoid a catastrophe.
And Rodney though why is this happening to me I didn’t do nothing. That of course is exactly the problem: no one did nothing. When someone pointed a finger at them and said why didn’t you do something they could say it wasn’t my fault because I didn’t do nothing. They figure if you didn’t do nothing then you couldn’t make mistakes or be blamed for anything. Remember it was mistakes that started everything everywhere anyway.
Arthur Rodney had not made a mistake for 60 years. What do you mean his 30 years of marriage to the wrong woman, and his 4 years in the joint for being in the wrong place at the wrong time are mistakes. Those weren’t mistakes he was a victim of circumstances. And when he beat his brother out of 10,000 dollars because he didn’t have the brains not to lend it to him that was his mistake not Rodney's. See Rodney knew what a mistake is. And besides he had never made a mistake since yesterday.
Then one beautiful sun shinny morning with the birds chirping happily doing loup-de-loups in the sky Rodney Looked out the kitchen window and seen Eddie, his beloved white doggie, over in the corner of the yard eating something strange. After eating the taste morsel he stagger across the yard and toppled into the fish pond dead. Some son-of-a-bitch poisoned Eddie!
This was more than he could take the stress of constantly living on the edge of disaster was getting to him. After giving serious time to the study of drink and dope he found out that they weren't the answer and in the end they don’t play games. Sooner or later they take control and use you to destroy you.
Rodney was desperate and decided, after seeing a few hallucinations one eerie still night around midnight, that it was time to change a life style that had him whipped so bad that he turned to God. What else could he do. Who else is their? He tried everything and still needed someone who really loved him and had an answer for what this madness was about.
To create the right ambiance for his new spiritual life he had the house painted white and the rooms painted white. The rugs white and the furniture too. If white is good enough for Cher and Barbara Streisand then it’s good enough for Rodney too.
Everything is going well. Rodney is out of the loup and into peace and trust and church services. Then in one of the sermons Rodney found out that it was his fault everything is so messed up because he didn’t do anything. And that he would have to love his neighbors as himself, and do something about the bad things happening everywhere, somewhere, somehow, and in somew
Orlando Lujan Martinez
Because something bad was happening everyday somewhere somehow Vincent Rodney started to question the sanity of everyone: including himself. He needed some questions answered. Who are you? Why all these mess ups? Who can be trusted? Why is everyone wearing a mask? Is everyone craze? and whatever ever happened to integrity, sincerity, honesty, righteousness and plain common sense? And why is the Easter Bunny, Tickle me Elmo and Chicken Little hiding under a bush in the backyard. Do they know something he doesn't know. Here chickee, chickee.
When Rodney has trouble sleeping he descended down the curving stair case into the living room of his luxurious house, on a hill, where he sat in the dark listening to Joni James singing When You Wish Upon a Star, with the curtains open, wondering, lonely and looking down on the twinkling lights of the city. (Where at the Casino Royal a man in a black suit and bowed tied, recently arrived in a French gray and opal blue limousine, is betting 10,000 dollars on the next roll of the dice. He has the confidence of one that can afford to lose. At his side Pinky Purdom smiles in a gold satin sheen evening gown.) A white bone moon stood over the house on the hill.
Rodney is lonely, and insecure because he thinks no one has any respect for him despite his brand spanking new car, groomed looks, wonderful personality and beautiful house. Some times his insecurity would turn into anger and make him an aggressive driver, and just this morning he got angry and cut off a car because it was going to slow. The guy kept following Rodney honking his horn real mad. Rodney flipped him a birdie.
The drivers replied was to put his arm out the window and fired a couple of shots which was, in Rodney opinion, in step with the growing violence in American society. Rodney was shocked and frightened but also knew something like this would happen sooner or later. So he was going to start carrying a gun under a newspaper on the front seat for protection and just in case. Where are the cops when you need them?
Rodney always worried something or someone somewhere somehow in someway would snap. What would snap was anyone's guess. And who knows what’s on the menu of the paranoid mind after decades of posing as a sane person.
Rodney's garage is full of survival equipment: ten drums of gas, ten drums of water, an electric generator and stacks of canned food. All the stuff he will need when environment collapses. The government pamphlet didn’t mention toilet paper: a absolute necessity in an emergency and one of the civilized worlds greatest contributions to society or the guns, the bullet proof vest, gas mask and plenty of ammunition, just in case.
When the Nuremberg trial judge sentence Herman Goring sentenced him to death. Goring said “I don’t care I lived well for 15 years.” A practical approach which Rodney didn’t have. He was scared and a guy who is always looking around for a way to get out of life without dying.
The government pamphlet also said when the Pandemic Flu gets to your town, presumedly on the back of a Road Island Red Chicken, your survival is going to depend on you. Wash your hands frequently stay away from coughing. Don’t expect them to save us. Don’t go to the hospital because they will be packed full and there is no cure for the flu anyway. Bad news, and he had foolishly thought that money, democracy medical science and a roll in the hay was the answer to everything. Even the very wealthy are going to pay this time because there is no place to run anywhere anyhow. The Casino Royal will close because the croupiers, kitchen help and maids will be home sick or dead. Pinky Purdom's paramour will be still bowed tied but this time in a coffin.
Rodney hope his neighbors have prepared for the coming catastrophe because if they come over to beg for food he just won’t answer the door just like he did with the Jehovah Witnesses. And just in case they persist well....
In addition to all of Rodney personal problems, real and unreal, over or under the counter, cause by other people, of course, there's been more bad school shootings and the bad news from Iran is that they are going to build a nuclear bomb. They say If we have some then they want some too and then, too boot, there is world warming, militant Islamic terrorism in Afghanistan, Iraq and other parts of the world.
And North Korea has set off a nuclear bomb. They say the leader of North Korea is a nut case and might do something somewhere that wasn't nice. The only answer for Rodney had was to keep spending, keep up a good front, and hope the politicians will find a way to avoid a catastrophe.
And Rodney though why is this happening to me I didn’t do nothing. That of course is exactly the problem: no one did nothing. When someone pointed a finger at them and said why didn’t you do something they could say it wasn’t my fault because I didn’t do nothing. They figure if you didn’t do nothing then you couldn’t make mistakes or be blamed for anything. Remember it was mistakes that started everything everywhere anyway.
Arthur Rodney had not made a mistake for 60 years. What do you mean his 30 years of marriage to the wrong woman, and his 4 years in the joint for being in the wrong place at the wrong time are mistakes. Those weren’t mistakes he was a victim of circumstances. And when he beat his brother out of 10,000 dollars because he didn’t have the brains not to lend it to him that was his mistake not Rodney's. See Rodney knew what a mistake is. And besides he had never made a mistake since yesterday.
Then one beautiful sun shinny morning with the birds chirping happily doing loup-de-loups in the sky Rodney Looked out the kitchen window and seen Eddie, his beloved white doggie, over in the corner of the yard eating something strange. After eating the taste morsel he stagger across the yard and toppled into the fish pond dead. Some son-of-a-bitch poisoned Eddie!
This was more than he could take the stress of constantly living on the edge of disaster was getting to him. After giving serious time to the study of drink and dope he found out that they weren't the answer and in the end they don’t play games. Sooner or later they take control and use you to destroy you.
Rodney was desperate and decided, after seeing a few hallucinations one eerie still night around midnight, that it was time to change a life style that had him whipped so bad that he turned to God. What else could he do. Who else is their? He tried everything and still needed someone who really loved him and had an answer for what this madness was about.
To create the right ambiance for his new spiritual life he had the house painted white and the rooms painted white. The rugs white and the furniture too. If white is good enough for Cher and Barbara Streisand then it’s good enough for Rodney too.
Everything is going well. Rodney is out of the loup and into peace and trust and church services. Then in one of the sermons Rodney found out that it was his fault everything is so messed up because he didn’t do anything. And that he would have to love his neighbors as himself, and do something about the bad things happening everywhere, somewhere, somehow, and in somew
New York New York
New York New York
Orlando Lujan Martinez, IWA
I've always thought I was as important as the next guy or any movie star, president or entertainer and had the disturbing habit of looking people straight in the eye and telling them the truth and what was really happening. The way is really is, in my opinion
An attitude that could lead to an confrontation with the social orthodox authority that dictates how important you are. It says that if you are not somebody then you are, obviously, a nobody. But when it meets a guy who thinks he is a somebody, without their approval or certification, then something interesting is bound to happen.
Such was the rule of society when I went with a friend, Edward Monjares, the Director of the Human Rights Department of Albuquerque, and his patriotic veteran father, to see the Folkloric Spectacular of Mexico, at Tingle Stadium, on the New Mexico State Fair Grounds.
To open the show the mariachi orchestra played the Star Spangle Banner and I wasn't going to stand up just because i didn't what to be another one of those patriotic sheep, but since Eddie and his father got up and daddy placed his hand over his heart like a good patriotic American, I stood up immediately to show I was a patriot too.
It was a great show with a big mariachi orchestra on the main stage and on two other smaller stages, in front. colorful Mexican Folkloric dancers twirled, the women skirts flaring with color and the men in somber black with silver spangles, white shirts and large sombreros. It was a musical magical spectacle and a magnificent show of Mexican culture.
And then the lights dimmed as a spotlight captured a singer on stage. in a tuxedo, who sang -to everyones delight- New York, New York: in the sophisticate style of the King of New York Frank Sinatra, which completely took the hearts of the audience:
Start spreading the news. I'm leaving today I want to be part of it-New York, New York
These vagabond shoes,are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it-New York New York.
I, Eddie and the patriotic daddy sat in the upper left balcony, and the rich, the famous and the VIPS sat in front-row center. It was a sparkling show and at the end of the show I decided to go back stage and the dancers what a marvelous time I had, and to congratulate them for their magnificent performance. You know just like a VIP; a very important person. would do and VIP describe me exactly.
So I searched around for a way to sneak backstage and went across a section of unoccupied seats down a short flight of steps into a dim hall and walk up it until I came an a brightly lit large room where the performers were having their pictures taken by a professional photographer, one who went by the rules.
So I walked up to the edge of the beautiful and handsome group of dancers like I own the joint and stood besides one of the beautiful dancers. They were smiling and radiating happiness and there I was next to them smiling and radiating happiness too.
Then suddenly, my happiness was interrupted by the photographers loud voice hollering "Hey you! Get of the out of the picture!. Who do you think you are, anyway!''
"What do you mean who am I?" I yelled back, "I sir am the guy that brought the ticket that pays the salary of everyone in this room, and I am a fan, and I deserve to be in the picture," and looked around for approval from the performers.
The guy was a little startled by my reply, which was full of bravado, confidence and in command of the situation-I knew what I was doing- And just as he was about to open his mouth again to call for security, a cooler head, someone with authority and common sense, and who knew I was right. decided that it would good public relations if the performers were photograph with me: one of their adoring fans, holler to the photographer. "It's Okay! It's okay! Let him stay!" So I stood there with my arm around one of the dazzling women happy as a hog at the trough. They happy. Me happy,everybody happy and it was fun and It was just one of those fabulous nights.
Orlando Lujan Martinez, IWA
I've always thought I was as important as the next guy or any movie star, president or entertainer and had the disturbing habit of looking people straight in the eye and telling them the truth and what was really happening. The way is really is, in my opinion
An attitude that could lead to an confrontation with the social orthodox authority that dictates how important you are. It says that if you are not somebody then you are, obviously, a nobody. But when it meets a guy who thinks he is a somebody, without their approval or certification, then something interesting is bound to happen.
Such was the rule of society when I went with a friend, Edward Monjares, the Director of the Human Rights Department of Albuquerque, and his patriotic veteran father, to see the Folkloric Spectacular of Mexico, at Tingle Stadium, on the New Mexico State Fair Grounds.
To open the show the mariachi orchestra played the Star Spangle Banner and I wasn't going to stand up just because i didn't what to be another one of those patriotic sheep, but since Eddie and his father got up and daddy placed his hand over his heart like a good patriotic American, I stood up immediately to show I was a patriot too.
It was a great show with a big mariachi orchestra on the main stage and on two other smaller stages, in front. colorful Mexican Folkloric dancers twirled, the women skirts flaring with color and the men in somber black with silver spangles, white shirts and large sombreros. It was a musical magical spectacle and a magnificent show of Mexican culture.
And then the lights dimmed as a spotlight captured a singer on stage. in a tuxedo, who sang -to everyones delight- New York, New York: in the sophisticate style of the King of New York Frank Sinatra, which completely took the hearts of the audience:
Start spreading the news. I'm leaving today I want to be part of it-New York, New York
These vagabond shoes,are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it-New York New York.
I, Eddie and the patriotic daddy sat in the upper left balcony, and the rich, the famous and the VIPS sat in front-row center. It was a sparkling show and at the end of the show I decided to go back stage and the dancers what a marvelous time I had, and to congratulate them for their magnificent performance. You know just like a VIP; a very important person. would do and VIP describe me exactly.
So I searched around for a way to sneak backstage and went across a section of unoccupied seats down a short flight of steps into a dim hall and walk up it until I came an a brightly lit large room where the performers were having their pictures taken by a professional photographer, one who went by the rules.
So I walked up to the edge of the beautiful and handsome group of dancers like I own the joint and stood besides one of the beautiful dancers. They were smiling and radiating happiness and there I was next to them smiling and radiating happiness too.
Then suddenly, my happiness was interrupted by the photographers loud voice hollering "Hey you! Get of the out of the picture!. Who do you think you are, anyway!''
"What do you mean who am I?" I yelled back, "I sir am the guy that brought the ticket that pays the salary of everyone in this room, and I am a fan, and I deserve to be in the picture," and looked around for approval from the performers.
The guy was a little startled by my reply, which was full of bravado, confidence and in command of the situation-I knew what I was doing- And just as he was about to open his mouth again to call for security, a cooler head, someone with authority and common sense, and who knew I was right. decided that it would good public relations if the performers were photograph with me: one of their adoring fans, holler to the photographer. "It's Okay! It's okay! Let him stay!" So I stood there with my arm around one of the dazzling women happy as a hog at the trough. They happy. Me happy,everybody happy and it was fun and It was just one of those fabulous nights.
A call to my nephew in Denver
A Call To My nephew In Denver
Hey, Doug how you doing? I thought your pun Cinco De Drinko about Cinco de Mayo was great. I sat down next to this Mexican guy, with a lot of tattoos and real big, on the Cental Avenue bus in Albuquerque. He told me that he was going to Denver in a couple of days. Pretty soons we were laughing and talking-you know how La Gente is- and I was thinking that such a happy guy wouldn't mine a little fun pun-a laught on himself-and I tolds him your pun, and I laugh and... he didn’t. I knew I was in trouble. He looked at me real mean and asked, you think that's funny? and I replied immediately, of course not i was just talking.
Who told you that, the guy with a snake tattooed around his neck, asked and I told him that you told me that. Then he asked me for your address, while fiddling with some heavy looking object in his coat pocket and I”m sure it wasn’t a strawberry popsicle, so I gave it to him. He said that he wasn’t going to beat the shit out of me because I gave him a burrito i had in my pocket.
Prior to our misunderstanding I found out that he was the leader of the Mexican Mafia at Gull Island Maximin Security Prison. He had just gotten out after serving twenty years. Sorry about this Bud. But here’s how to handle it. Go to a pawn shop and buy a piece. Park your van several blocks away.from your house, an empty drive way may convince him that your not home.
And hang a large Mexican flag on your front door. Don’t turn on your lights at night. Sit around in the dark and whisper and a little prayer wouldn't hurt a flea. And under no circumstances, if he catches up with you, tell him your a Hispanic. Because-I repeat-there are no Hispanics in Gull Island.
Hey, Doug how you doing? I thought your pun Cinco De Drinko about Cinco de Mayo was great. I sat down next to this Mexican guy, with a lot of tattoos and real big, on the Cental Avenue bus in Albuquerque. He told me that he was going to Denver in a couple of days. Pretty soons we were laughing and talking-you know how La Gente is- and I was thinking that such a happy guy wouldn't mine a little fun pun-a laught on himself-and I tolds him your pun, and I laugh and... he didn’t. I knew I was in trouble. He looked at me real mean and asked, you think that's funny? and I replied immediately, of course not i was just talking.
Who told you that, the guy with a snake tattooed around his neck, asked and I told him that you told me that. Then he asked me for your address, while fiddling with some heavy looking object in his coat pocket and I”m sure it wasn’t a strawberry popsicle, so I gave it to him. He said that he wasn’t going to beat the shit out of me because I gave him a burrito i had in my pocket.
Prior to our misunderstanding I found out that he was the leader of the Mexican Mafia at Gull Island Maximin Security Prison. He had just gotten out after serving twenty years. Sorry about this Bud. But here’s how to handle it. Go to a pawn shop and buy a piece. Park your van several blocks away.from your house, an empty drive way may convince him that your not home.
And hang a large Mexican flag on your front door. Don’t turn on your lights at night. Sit around in the dark and whisper and a little prayer wouldn't hurt a flea. And under no circumstances, if he catches up with you, tell him your a Hispanic. Because-I repeat-there are no Hispanics in Gull Island.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
A Shopping Ttrip To The Coronado Mall
A Shopping Trip To The Coronado Mall
Orlando Lujan Martinez
Like most parents, in the South Valley of Albuquerque New Mexico, Henny Mary Sanchez didn’t know how much her 7 year old son Andrew really knew or understood. Sometimes Andrew's capricious and unpredictable nature would surprise her.
Henny is not the usual South Valley mother. Many people thought of her as a loose gun, and the more exstream ones said she might be cognative impaired-which made her very interesting, indeed.
“Are you coming to tell me a bed time story, momma” Andrew asked as he stood in the bedroom hall, in floppy rabbit slippers, hugging a teddy bear. An aura of angelic innocents followed Henny's son around like a pet puppy. Andrew is the love of her life, her darling boy and sweet potato pie.
“I’ll be right there my darling boy’ Henny said.
“I love you” Andrew cried over his shoulder going down the hall to his bedroom.
After the bedtime story Andrew asked “When we go to the mall tomorrow can I look at the puppies?”
“Yes, you can but it’s not to buy just to look, okay?” Henny said.
“Okay momma,” the sweet angel replied.
The next morning Henny’s eyes popped open just as the lukewarm rays of an early morning sun peeked over the chicken house. In the fields next to Henny’s modest home, off Isleta Boulevard, cows loitered chewing on the sweet grasses that grew abundantly in the South Valley.
In the hidden distant countryside, past the 7/11 on Isleta, a dogs bark and a roosters distant crow could be heard in the still warm quite air. The long morning rays swept the countryside clean of the last remnants of the night. A mile way, across lush fields, a silent flowing Rio Grande, snugly bordered by tall cottonwood trees, surged gently against its banks. Fifteen miles away Albuquerque's tall building could be seen, outline against the towering Sandia mountains-which some called The Watermelon Mountains-, rested peacefully in the soft golden embrace of a new day.
Henny got up in the dewy early morning air and went to wake up her little angel, Andrew. “Wake up, my honey” Henny said sitting on the edge of his bed, petting Andrew's head, enchanted by the sight of her beloved son. A rhapsody enter the room with the beautiful morning.
“It’s a beautiful morning” she whispered close to his ears.
“I’m awake Mama” he smiled from the pillow, hugging a black eyed Teddy Bear.
“Wash and get dressed because we are going to the mall.”
The sun slanted across the kitchen table as Henny made breakfast for
Andrew then he went out to fed the rabbits and chickens. After breakfast Henny said firmly “Well. were off to the mall to get you some school clothes and remember that I’m the one who’s doing the picking-not you because I’m grown up, right?.”
“That’s okay with me but don’t forget the puppies.”
“And were not going to eat everything in sight or buy anymore toys. You have enough” she looked Andrew in the eyes, shaking her head no.
“Sure that’s okay with me but don’t forget the puppies ” he smiled just like he got up on the right side of the day.
“Don’t worry I ain't going to forget about the puppies and do you know why I'm not going to forget.?
“Why, momma.?
“Because your ain’t going to let me forget. That’s why.”
They drove past the 7/11, small houses sitting in clusters of trees, up to the highway and across town to the Coronado Shopping Center. Along with her legitimate shopping Henny planed to do a little shoplifting, her way of beating the system-keeping her hand in. Her excuse for breaking the law was that if that CEO at Elron could swindle millions of dollars then she was entitled to save a few bucks by shoplifting. This excuse would never stand up in court if she got caught. She knew it, God knew it and the judge knew it.
It was a fine summer day with a flock birds banking against a southwest wind in the sky, as Henny and Andrew parked in the lot and walked to into the Coronado Mall. They stopped at the pet shop to look at the cute puppies jumping happily up on the glass window with their tails wagging and tongues hanging out.
“Hey, momma i want one of these” Andrew said, with his face pressed against the glass window.
“We already have three dogs and we ain’t getting another one”. Henny explained patiently.
“Well, I want another one anyway. This one” he pointed a stubby finger at a puppy licking the glass.next to his face,
“I said no! now come on we have things to do.”
“I ain’t going. I want a puppy.” Andrew insisted.
Henny looked around to make sure no one was watching, and whispered in a threatening manner. “You just wait until I get you home.” Henny quickly grabbed Andrew's hand and dragged him off.
“I’m not going I want a puppy” Andrew hollered, as he jerked free. Henny took another cautious look around, to see if there were any witnesses and said in a angry voice.
“You little rascal you're going to pay for this” and tried to grab Andrew as he jumped out of her reach. Then Henny smiled sweetly and lied ”Okay, okay I’ll buy you three, but I don’t have the money with me. We’ll come back tomorrow, Ok”
“Wow, your the best momma in the whole world’ Andrew told the best liar as they happily walked off hand in hand.
Henny and Andrew walked around for awhile window shopping and then they went into a store that Henny knew had several items that she needed. A story with low security that Henny had been in before and the usual place where she did her extra tax free shopping. Henny walked up and down several aisles, acting like she was just another customer, with little Andrew tagging along thinking about the three puppies he would never get. She stopped at a shelf and looked both ways and put a item into her coat pocket.
“Why did you put that into your coat pocket, momma?” the watching Andrew asked.
“Shsss” Henny knew she had made a mistake by letting Andrew see her shoplift. “Don’t talk so loud, think puppies.” Henny whispered to Andrew.
“Can I put one into my pocket too?” The innocent Andrew asks.
“We only need one’ Henny assure him. Why, oh why did I let him see me. Henny admonished herself, I’m I craze our something.
“But I like that kind.”
“For Christ sake, forget it!” she took the unpredictable Andrew behind a display rack. “Shsss, don’t talk so loud.
“Is this a secret, I like secrets,” Andrew said with his eyes wide open.
“Yeah, sure it’s a secret, ha ha” Henny laugh in a sinister manner, as she twisted off the top of a bottle of vitamins and poured the contents into her purse. Henny though that since Andrew had already seen her shoplifting, then one more time wouldn't make much of difference.
“Why are you...”
Shsss and to take Andrew attention away, she said “Honey, look at them Mickey Mouse balloons”
“I want one” Andrew immediately replied.
“You can’t have one,” the exasperated Henny said.
“Then I want my puppies” he persisted.
“For crying out loud!” the exasperated Henny cried looking at the mall ceiling. “Why me!"
Henny proceeded to buy Andrew some school clothing and as they walked out of the Coronado Mall Henny thought that it was time to give up her shoplifting career because Andrew might pick up the habit.
But shoplifting had been fun, she enjoyed the adventure and like living outside the law. The loose gun would have to find some other way to beat the system.
Orlando Lujan Martinez
Like most parents, in the South Valley of Albuquerque New Mexico, Henny Mary Sanchez didn’t know how much her 7 year old son Andrew really knew or understood. Sometimes Andrew's capricious and unpredictable nature would surprise her.
Henny is not the usual South Valley mother. Many people thought of her as a loose gun, and the more exstream ones said she might be cognative impaired-which made her very interesting, indeed.
“Are you coming to tell me a bed time story, momma” Andrew asked as he stood in the bedroom hall, in floppy rabbit slippers, hugging a teddy bear. An aura of angelic innocents followed Henny's son around like a pet puppy. Andrew is the love of her life, her darling boy and sweet potato pie.
“I’ll be right there my darling boy’ Henny said.
“I love you” Andrew cried over his shoulder going down the hall to his bedroom.
After the bedtime story Andrew asked “When we go to the mall tomorrow can I look at the puppies?”
“Yes, you can but it’s not to buy just to look, okay?” Henny said.
“Okay momma,” the sweet angel replied.
The next morning Henny’s eyes popped open just as the lukewarm rays of an early morning sun peeked over the chicken house. In the fields next to Henny’s modest home, off Isleta Boulevard, cows loitered chewing on the sweet grasses that grew abundantly in the South Valley.
In the hidden distant countryside, past the 7/11 on Isleta, a dogs bark and a roosters distant crow could be heard in the still warm quite air. The long morning rays swept the countryside clean of the last remnants of the night. A mile way, across lush fields, a silent flowing Rio Grande, snugly bordered by tall cottonwood trees, surged gently against its banks. Fifteen miles away Albuquerque's tall building could be seen, outline against the towering Sandia mountains-which some called The Watermelon Mountains-, rested peacefully in the soft golden embrace of a new day.
Henny got up in the dewy early morning air and went to wake up her little angel, Andrew. “Wake up, my honey” Henny said sitting on the edge of his bed, petting Andrew's head, enchanted by the sight of her beloved son. A rhapsody enter the room with the beautiful morning.
“It’s a beautiful morning” she whispered close to his ears.
“I’m awake Mama” he smiled from the pillow, hugging a black eyed Teddy Bear.
“Wash and get dressed because we are going to the mall.”
The sun slanted across the kitchen table as Henny made breakfast for
Andrew then he went out to fed the rabbits and chickens. After breakfast Henny said firmly “Well. were off to the mall to get you some school clothes and remember that I’m the one who’s doing the picking-not you because I’m grown up, right?.”
“That’s okay with me but don’t forget the puppies.”
“And were not going to eat everything in sight or buy anymore toys. You have enough” she looked Andrew in the eyes, shaking her head no.
“Sure that’s okay with me but don’t forget the puppies ” he smiled just like he got up on the right side of the day.
“Don’t worry I ain't going to forget about the puppies and do you know why I'm not going to forget.?
“Why, momma.?
“Because your ain’t going to let me forget. That’s why.”
They drove past the 7/11, small houses sitting in clusters of trees, up to the highway and across town to the Coronado Shopping Center. Along with her legitimate shopping Henny planed to do a little shoplifting, her way of beating the system-keeping her hand in. Her excuse for breaking the law was that if that CEO at Elron could swindle millions of dollars then she was entitled to save a few bucks by shoplifting. This excuse would never stand up in court if she got caught. She knew it, God knew it and the judge knew it.
It was a fine summer day with a flock birds banking against a southwest wind in the sky, as Henny and Andrew parked in the lot and walked to into the Coronado Mall. They stopped at the pet shop to look at the cute puppies jumping happily up on the glass window with their tails wagging and tongues hanging out.
“Hey, momma i want one of these” Andrew said, with his face pressed against the glass window.
“We already have three dogs and we ain’t getting another one”. Henny explained patiently.
“Well, I want another one anyway. This one” he pointed a stubby finger at a puppy licking the glass.next to his face,
“I said no! now come on we have things to do.”
“I ain’t going. I want a puppy.” Andrew insisted.
Henny looked around to make sure no one was watching, and whispered in a threatening manner. “You just wait until I get you home.” Henny quickly grabbed Andrew's hand and dragged him off.
“I’m not going I want a puppy” Andrew hollered, as he jerked free. Henny took another cautious look around, to see if there were any witnesses and said in a angry voice.
“You little rascal you're going to pay for this” and tried to grab Andrew as he jumped out of her reach. Then Henny smiled sweetly and lied ”Okay, okay I’ll buy you three, but I don’t have the money with me. We’ll come back tomorrow, Ok”
“Wow, your the best momma in the whole world’ Andrew told the best liar as they happily walked off hand in hand.
Henny and Andrew walked around for awhile window shopping and then they went into a store that Henny knew had several items that she needed. A story with low security that Henny had been in before and the usual place where she did her extra tax free shopping. Henny walked up and down several aisles, acting like she was just another customer, with little Andrew tagging along thinking about the three puppies he would never get. She stopped at a shelf and looked both ways and put a item into her coat pocket.
“Why did you put that into your coat pocket, momma?” the watching Andrew asked.
“Shsss” Henny knew she had made a mistake by letting Andrew see her shoplift. “Don’t talk so loud, think puppies.” Henny whispered to Andrew.
“Can I put one into my pocket too?” The innocent Andrew asks.
“We only need one’ Henny assure him. Why, oh why did I let him see me. Henny admonished herself, I’m I craze our something.
“But I like that kind.”
“For Christ sake, forget it!” she took the unpredictable Andrew behind a display rack. “Shsss, don’t talk so loud.
“Is this a secret, I like secrets,” Andrew said with his eyes wide open.
“Yeah, sure it’s a secret, ha ha” Henny laugh in a sinister manner, as she twisted off the top of a bottle of vitamins and poured the contents into her purse. Henny though that since Andrew had already seen her shoplifting, then one more time wouldn't make much of difference.
“Why are you...”
Shsss and to take Andrew attention away, she said “Honey, look at them Mickey Mouse balloons”
“I want one” Andrew immediately replied.
“You can’t have one,” the exasperated Henny said.
“Then I want my puppies” he persisted.
“For crying out loud!” the exasperated Henny cried looking at the mall ceiling. “Why me!"
Henny proceeded to buy Andrew some school clothing and as they walked out of the Coronado Mall Henny thought that it was time to give up her shoplifting career because Andrew might pick up the habit.
But shoplifting had been fun, she enjoyed the adventure and like living outside the law. The loose gun would have to find some other way to beat the system.
The Church Clock Is Softly Ticking
The Church Clock is Softly Ticking
Orlando Lujan Martinez
The clock is softly ticking. The hours bid a gentle goodbye to doves cooing in the church tower and to the sound of a smooth white stone dropped into a well. A wandering breeze murmurs in the cloistered trees and in the flowers that wait patiently for the first glow of day. In the courtyard of San Felipe church, across the way, fragrance of damp earth and fraternal darkness mingle with the holy night. The roses sit in mute beauty, deep red nestled in green enameled leaves, beneath a dome of glittering stars and planets. In the starry night sky a full chalk moon shines down serene, whispering.
In the dusty church basement a mouse twitches its whiskers, round black agate eyes glinting, among the stored religious items of the past. Above in the church, where God awaits the faithful, a gold cross glistens from behind the pulpit and the votive candles, lit for a deceased love ones, flicker in their blood red glass jars.
Aeons ago we came out of Africa dark skins glistening, nature and spirit one. We are the roots of a great oak tree, and the faint ripple of a breeze on the face of a quite mountain lake. We are made from earth,water, air and then God created the spirit that gives grace and meaning to life on beautiful earth turning in the majestic star sprinkled universe.
Drifting over the rim of the night, bells faintly toll from a distant hidden valley, huddled in green trees, through which the pure currents of an august river rushes to the sea. Next to the river a lonesome road passes old barns, moon glowed fields, silent stalks of corn, and dim houses where the sound of children laughing is mingled with the peaceful summer, and the sweet smell of hay.
The warm glow of the houses pale windows reach into a dark yard where a. Calico cat walks softly in the moon shadows. The motherland spreads across the horizon into the engulfing darkness with its twinkling towns and mournful midnight train whistles. Just below the horizon the pure sun, source life, slants brightly across verdant fields. lengthening the shadows of fence posts and calling the rooster to herald the arrival of morning and Gods wonderful day.
Orlando Lujan Martinez
The clock is softly ticking. The hours bid a gentle goodbye to doves cooing in the church tower and to the sound of a smooth white stone dropped into a well. A wandering breeze murmurs in the cloistered trees and in the flowers that wait patiently for the first glow of day. In the courtyard of San Felipe church, across the way, fragrance of damp earth and fraternal darkness mingle with the holy night. The roses sit in mute beauty, deep red nestled in green enameled leaves, beneath a dome of glittering stars and planets. In the starry night sky a full chalk moon shines down serene, whispering.
In the dusty church basement a mouse twitches its whiskers, round black agate eyes glinting, among the stored religious items of the past. Above in the church, where God awaits the faithful, a gold cross glistens from behind the pulpit and the votive candles, lit for a deceased love ones, flicker in their blood red glass jars.
Aeons ago we came out of Africa dark skins glistening, nature and spirit one. We are the roots of a great oak tree, and the faint ripple of a breeze on the face of a quite mountain lake. We are made from earth,water, air and then God created the spirit that gives grace and meaning to life on beautiful earth turning in the majestic star sprinkled universe.
Drifting over the rim of the night, bells faintly toll from a distant hidden valley, huddled in green trees, through which the pure currents of an august river rushes to the sea. Next to the river a lonesome road passes old barns, moon glowed fields, silent stalks of corn, and dim houses where the sound of children laughing is mingled with the peaceful summer, and the sweet smell of hay.
The warm glow of the houses pale windows reach into a dark yard where a. Calico cat walks softly in the moon shadows. The motherland spreads across the horizon into the engulfing darkness with its twinkling towns and mournful midnight train whistles. Just below the horizon the pure sun, source life, slants brightly across verdant fields. lengthening the shadows of fence posts and calling the rooster to herald the arrival of morning and Gods wonderful day.
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