Sitting by the side of the road

There is an old road that parallels the Rio Grande and my home here in New Mexico. History has traveled down that road in the personas of Calvary officers, priests from old Mexico, and even Geronimo himself.

Los Lentes Road is a typical rural two lane road in that on its fairly straight trajectory one will encounter a beautiful Catholic church, a herd of sheep, and housing ranging from barely there to very expensive. At the major intersection of Los Lentes and downtown Los Lunas sits our contribution to American society, a McDonalds. Things like roads and neighborhoods are often disorderly here in New Mexico, and that is one of its charms.

My three pups answered the call this morning for a ride in the truck. I needed to mail some copies of “Martin the Guitar on the Road” to some kids back in Georgia, and the little dogs were at the truck door as soon as the words came out of my mouth. After conferring with the truck loving curs, we decided to take Los Lentes Road into town, and off we went.

As I entered the road from my side of town, I spotted the sweetest sight. Sitting in two plastic chairs in front of their modest adobe home, an elderly couple were taking the morning sun and watching traffic slowly move down their road. I held up a hand for a friendly wave, and the male partner responded with a similar gesture.

Let’s revisit that scene. An elderly couple, warmly wrapped, sat approximately six feet from the street’s edge just to watch the traffic. I can only guess, but I would say their blood pressure readings were sitting right at normal.

I have written on this page about the joy of a front porch, but my Los Lentes couple didn’t have a front porch. They HARRY MUSSELWHITE had a simple front yard, fenced in, as is the tradition around here.

My great friend and Roman Kevin J. Ellis and I rode around Los Lunas one day, and Kevin noted, “Ya’ll sure have a lot of fences around here.”

He’s correct. I’d say about 98 percent of the homes in my county have some sort of fence surrounding their property. Some sport fancy (pronounced “fahncy”) gates with sculptural galloping horses, and others, like at my property, have simple wire and pipe gates that do the job of securing the ranchero.

My elderly couple had a yard that was surrounded with a stout wire fence, and they sat like two Buddhist monks meditating on the meaning of life as my pup-filled truck lumbered past.

I can remember the Zen-like peace that my grandmother’s family enjoyed on Sunday afternoons in rural Warren County, Georgia. Long segments of time would go by (usually interpreted as boredom by my young brother and I) without conversation until the whirring sound of tires on pavement from afar would capture everyone’s attention.

A sedan would pull into Miss Eva’s farm about two miles east, and we would all watch with great interest as the car would pull slowly into her yard. After a few silent moments usually my uncle Lester would slowly pronounce, “Must be Eva’s nephew from Cedar Rock checking on her.”

So you citizens of Mount Alto, you residents of Horseleg Creek, you denizens of the Between the Rivers, you Silver Creekians, I challenge you: This Sunday afternoon, pull up a couple of chairs near the road and watch the traffic go by. No cell phones or such allowed. Waving is optional, but highly recommended. When a neighbor slows down, rolls down the window, and asks, “Everything okay?” Just respond, “We’re just sittin’ and watching the traffic.”

Heck, I think I might have discovered a path to world peace. Just saying.

Happy sitting and watching.