On this 20th commemoration of the horrific events of 9/11 in 2001, I dedicate this essay to the memory of all victims of that tragedy, which includes all of us at some level. We all have our own stories of how that morning affected our personal lives. It heavily impacted our communal well-being.

Our collective well-being is now under attack from a different kind of threat, as we continue to deal with the trauma of a pandemic that holds us in its grip without clear understanding of when things might be normal again, if ever.

I wish us all strength and courage moving forward. Don’t worry, the following essay still contains my signature quirky humor and some lightness of heart. We can certainly use that right about now.

Why Did the Tarantula Cross the Road?

Driving in our neighborhood, my partner spots something crossing the street up ahead. I see it too, it looks very arachnid.

“That’s a tarantula!” my partner says.

I’m not so sure I share his enthusiasm. He stops the car, and we get out to take a closer look. My curiosity is mixed with the willies.

The male tarantula creeping along in the middle of the road is expressing its instinctual drive to search out a female. He is apparently convinced that she lives across the street, a life-threatening inconvenience as he blends so well with the asphalt.

He is mostly black with a surprising red-orange thorax that sticks out like the jacked-up rear end of a Chevy Chevelle cruising for action. He is skinny and long-legged, like a gangly human male adolescent, and probably just as horny.

The odds of satisfaction are not on his side. A male tarantula is unable to successfully mate until he reaches a molting stage that happens only once in his lifetime, when he is ten to twelve years old, not quite a teenager. Mating will be his final enterprise. He will die directly afterwards. A high price to pay for the propagation of his species!

We watch this young male creep toward his destination. With eight legs, he must be able to put it into overdrive, but he just ambles until he is safely into the roadside grasses. Even if he finds a female, he doesn’t look old enough to have molted to the task.

A few days later I see a tarantula again, in about the same location, possibly the same spider. He’s apparently still courting and by an elegance of chance, still alive.

I’ve learned that male tarantulas go in search of mates every monsoon season, and not just in our neighborhood where the streets are narrow and not well-traveled. Tarantulas are on the march all over the desert southwest. I saw several much larger ones crossing Little Walnut, a two-lane road with a largely ignored 35 mph speed limit. Getting to the other side there is a much more risky enterprise, yet off they go across the pavement.

It’s an old question, isn’t it? “Why did the chicken cross the road?” You know the standard answer. “To get to the other side.”

The more important question might be, what does the chicken think is on the other side that isn’t available where the chicken is currently standing?

The answer to that question is not so straightforward. What’s the draw? Why are we always trying to get to the other side, where we believe the grass is greener, life is sweeter and dreams hold the promise of fulfillment in ways we are convinced our current side of the road doesn’t hold a glimmer of hope to offer?

Humans have been migrating for millennia, following game herds, looking for mates who aren’t first cousins, escaping harsh climates and brutal neighbors.

We are still migrating for essentially the same reasons, though in our modern times our primary migrations move us from rural to urban environments. Once we find the Euphrates valley of fertile economics, we hunker down and hope no invading hordes descend to steal our stuff.

Maybe if we were more aware of how much crossing back and forth and back again we’ve already done, we’d become less territorial about the side of the road we want to claim at the moment. After all, neither side actually belongs to any of us.

In a truly fluid society we would know how to share and how to relinquish our stubborn propensity to call everything mine, or at least to make the boundary of our territorial markings less aggressive and more humbly sustainable.

It appears to be our deep seeded and instinctual need to seek out fresh opportunities, but why can’t we figure out how to satisfy that need without having to conquer, and at many times throughout our history, kill each other to satisfy it?

Is the drive purely pumped by an evolutionary survival of the fittest hierarchy? Watch any nature documentary and the screen is quickly filled with one creature eating another. The whole Darwinian theory right there in technicolor as you munch your buttered popcorn while the mandibles of the larger insect crunch the exoskeleton of the smaller one. I’ve stopped mixing food consumption with watching nature shows.

Can we at least try to rise above the crudest programming of our predatory nature? I hope so, but it’s a slow crawl to the other side of the road, fraught with danger and probable demise.

At the moment, collectively as a species, we are all still trying to cross the daunting highway of COVID-19, and it’s already 2021 heading rapidly towards 2022.

Those who are now vaccinated will likely make it safely to the other side, though no one knows how far away that other side might be, and even with the vaccine onboard, there is still a slight chance of contracting the Delta variant. Some will make it across by making it through. COVID-19 leaves lasting scars, so gaining immunity in this way is a harsh ride. The impersonal semi-truck of this pandemic has already killed close to five-million people world-wide. These victims didn’t make it safely to the other side at all.

Viruses are an ancient phenomenon. Their origins remain scientifically obscure, and there’s even a theory that they came here frozen in the ice of asteroids that fell to the Earth’s surface millions of years ago. Viruses are aggressive. Not unlike Attila the Hun or Genghis Khan, they like to invade, and they learn quickly to change their tactics with each advance.

What can we do?

Like the stoic little arachnid, moving one leg in front of the other seven, we need to keep on keeping on. Avoid heavy traffic. Stay away from busy intersections! Or, we could stay on our own side of the road, safely tucked away in our nest beneath a thick mesh of shimmering web until the threat has passed, but the threat isn’t passing quickly.

So, here we are, dancing at this masked ball for a lot longer than we’d hoped. A lot longer. I wrote the original draft of this essay a year ago and it’s still relevant today with minimal edits.

Regardless of our diligence and in defiance of our instinctual fear of death, at some point we will all need to take courage and face the stats. We will need to don our best Billy the Kid attire, a red bandana tied over our noses (on top of an effective N95 mask, of course!) and a ragged Stetson set at a cocky angle on our noggins. We will need to look COVID-19 in the eye without blinking, bolster our best immune response with the help of the vaccines, and run with a warrior’s whoop across the highway!

Safe travels, my friends, to the other side of the road!



Scroll down to About The Author for more information and check out Eve’s website at: www.jazzpoeteve.com

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The Selection Committee is delighted to announce that the next Poet Laureate of Silver City and Grant County is Allison Waterman.

This honorary role is awarded to a person who has established a presence in the world of poetry, demonstrated a commitment to the literary art form, and embraces the opportunity to engage in civil discourse. Following the tenure of poet laureate Eve West Bessier, the committee received several applications for the role and after interviewing all applicants, the committee offered Waterman the position.

Allison (pronouns: she/her) is an avid reader, writer, and researcher who has been published many times, having her poetry, short stories and newspaper columns celebrated locally and nationwide. She was a member of Silver City Slam and currently participates in Poetry Bread events. She cherishes her three sons and two brothers and finds joy in the everyday happenings of life, particularly in the mountains and hot springs of Southern New Mexico.

The poet will serve a two-year term, beginning May 1^st 2021, with an option for a third year if mutually agreed. The Poet Laureate program is run by the Southwest Word Fiesta.

–Professor Heather Frankland, Chair of the Poet Laureate Selection Committee

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A heads-up to the supporters of Southwest Word Fiesta: Give Grandly is on May 8, 2021. This is an amazing fundraising day, organized by and for local non-profits. Any amount we raise up to $400 will be matched. This is one of the main sources of funds which allow us to keep all of our programming free.

Besides holding the festival in odd-numbered years, Southwest Word Fiesta runs open mics, writers’ workshops, readings and book launches, the Poet Laureate program, and school visits by authors to encourage the next generation of readers and writers.

We need your help. Please donate if you can. Go to https://www.givegrandly.org/, click on “donate to organizations” and find our logo. There will also be in-person donations accepted at the Silver City Farmers Market and Makers Market on Saturday May 8. The Give Grandly website is already open for donations.

Donors are automatically placed into a raffle for gift baskets. The raffle is hourly on May 8, so the earlier you donate, the more chance you have of winning! 

Finally, watch and listen to our Give Grandly campaign song written by award-winning composer, musician and author Kat Sherrell! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eMk7OOL56uM

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Nominations are now being sought for the Silver City area’s sixth Poet Laureate, following the tenures of Bonnie Buckley Maldonado, Elise Stuart, Beate Sigriddaughter and Jack Crocker, and Eve West Bessier.

This honorary position is awarded to a person who has established a presence in the world of poetry, has demonstrated a commitment to the literary art form, and who embraces the opportunity to engage in civil discourse.

Candidates for the post must be over the age of 21 and self-nominated. They must also be residents of Grant County who have exhibited demonstrable ties to the community. The person selected for the post will serve a two-year term based on the calendar year, with the option – granted in consultation with the Selection Committee – of extending the term to three years.

The main duty of the Poet Laureate is to promote poetry in the community. An additional duty may be to present an original commemorative poem at one or two public events as determined by the Southwest Word Fiesta and/or the Silver City Town Council.

To apply, please send a 1-2 page statement describing your qualifications, including publications and teaching experience; an outline of your plans for the role and how you will make a difference in the community; and 3-5 of your poems (which may be in English and/or Spanish). The process may also involve a short interview with the Selection Committee. All applications must be sent by April 16, 2021 to Professor Heather Frankland: Heather.Frankland@wnmu.edu, WNMU Humanities Department, 1000 W. College Ave., Silver City, NM 88061. Please contact Professor Frankland if you would like more information.

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New Mexico Writers is a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting and connecting the state’s literary community. Our mission is to provide grants, networking, and career development opportunities to aspiring writers from diverse communities throughout New Mexico. We believe that by addressing cultural, financial, and professional barriers facing aspiring New Mexico writers, we will build a vibrant literary community that reflects the diversity of our state.

ANNUAL GRANT PROGRAM

The New Mexico Writers annual grant program is intended to support New Mexico authors in a variety of literary endeavors. The program features a competition for funding new works or works in progress by writers from all populations and geographic areas of New Mexico, including lesser-served communities. 

Grants are awarded at the New Mexico Writers annual dinner, where grantees are honored as special guests. The 2021 annual dinner is scheduled to be held on June 10, 2021, at La Fonda on the Plaza in Santa Fe. (Date is subject to change depending on COVID-19 restrictions in place at that time).

WHO SHOULD APPLY

All New Mexico writers are invited to apply for funding to support projects in ONE of any of the following genres: fiction, nonfiction, poetry, journalism, playwriting, and screenwriting. 

ELIGIBLE AWARD FUNDING OPPORTUNITIES

Grant recipients are eligible to apply for grants in one of two categories:

New Mexico Writers Annual Grant: New Mexico Writers signature grant supporting writing, research, publishing and other activities pertaining to the creation of new works or works in progress. Grants typically range from $500 to $2,000. 

Douglas Preston Travel Grant: This special annual $1,000 grant, funded by best-selling author and Santa Fe resident Douglas Preston and matching donations, specifically supports an author’s travel needs in the service of a writing project. 

Applicants for either grant may request funding to support their work as needed, including attendance at a writing-related workshop, conference, or mentorship program; research-related travel costs; or enabling time away from employment to work on a project.  

Award recipients are required to submit a report to New Mexico Writers detailing how the grant was used and how their work benefited from the funding. 

DEADLINE TO APPLY

Grant applications are due via online submission no later than March 31, 2021. Awardees will be notified by no later than May 15, 2021. 

Click here for additional information and an application form.

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On Thursday, February 25, 5-6 p.m., Western New Mexico University and Southwest Word Fiesta will host a Black History Month event involving virtual readings and a discussion. The topic will be the challenges and opportunities for African Americans at this time. The panelists include Dr. Isaac Brundage, Vice President for Student Affairs at WNMU; Matthew Macon, Kinesiology senior, WNMU, Victorville CA; Breya Brown, Kinesiology junior, WNMU, Avondale AZ; and JJ Amaworo Wilson, writer-in-residence, WNMU, and co-chair of Southwest Word Fiesta. The event is free and open to the public, no registration required, and can be accessed via Zoom link: https://wnmu.zoom.us/j/97409107291

Sponsored by WNMU, Southwest Word Fiesta, and the Western Institute of Lifelong Learning.

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JJ Amaworo Wilson

Salman Rushdie’s novel The Satanic Verses came out in 1988. He spent the next ten years in hiding. Ayatollah Khomeini, the Supreme Leader of Iran, didn’t approve of Rushdie’s portrayal of Mohamed, and pronounced a fatwah, a death sentence, on the author. The fatwah was eventually lifted after Khomeini’s death (although officially fatwahs can only be rescinded by the person who made them, so in theory Rushdie is still under it).

Mario Vargas Llosa hated his Peruvian military school – Leoncio Prado Military Academy – so much that he wrote his first novel about it (La Ciudad y los Perros, translated as The Time of the Hero). The academy took offense and organized a mass public burning of one thousand copies of the book.

Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o’s co-written political play “I Will Marry When I Want” was shut down after six weeks by the Kenyan government, and wa Thiong’o jailed. He famously wrote his novel Devil on the Cross on state-issued toilet paper while he was in Kenya’s maximum security prison.

In Soviet Russia, the hidden uncensored writing that flowed from the gulags was known as samizdat, literally “self-published” as opposed to state-published. Dissident Vladimir Bukovsky defined it thus: “Samizdat: I write it myself, edit it myself, censor it myself, publish it myself, distribute it myself, and spend jail time for it myself.”

Censorship. Book bans. Book burnings. Couldn’t happen here in the liberal, open, free United States, right? Think again. Here are some classics that have been banned in the U.S.: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, Animal Farm, The Catcher in the Rye, The Color Purple, Invisible Man, Beloved, The Grapes of Wrath, Lord of the Flies, and To Kill a Mockingbird. In recent years books banned in the U.S. include The Kite Runner, Fifty Shades of Grey, the Harry Potter series, The Hate U Give, The Handmaid’s Tale, and The Hunger Games.

Why do the authorities ban books? Dictatorships do it because they fear the truth. They have to maintain the web of lies that keeps them in power. And writers – at least decent ones – have a habit of telling the truth. Unlike newspapers, which are often state-owned or completely in thrall to the businesses whose advertising finances them, writers of fiction, poetry and drama have a “dangerous” level of independence. They write what they want. And it’s frequently not what dictators want.

What about free societies? The list of reasons for bans includes profanity, sexual references, racial slurs, blasphemy, excessive violence, “questionable patriotism,” and “does not represent traditional values” (for those last two, take a bow, John Steinbeck). The United States has its roots in Puritanism and, among developed countries, is one of the world’s most religious nations. This might explain the list of reasons. Rural America, in particular, where many of the bans are enacted, retains a deep commitment to traditional religious values.

But writing is the practice of freedom. Fiction can do anything. If you want to suddenly insert a talking rabbit into your story, you can. If you want to place a whole, unseen world inside a wardrobe complete with battles, fauns and talking lions, you can. The only limitations are the limitations of the imagination and the limitations of language. This freedom is far from universal. Those of us involved in the written word, in ideas and art, must fight to protect it where we have it, and fight to gain it where we don’t.

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It Started with a Lightning Strike

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. – Edmund Burke

Looking north, I see thunderheads building in the Gila Wilderness. Extremely good news as there is a forest fire burning nine miles away. It’s been doubling in size for the past three days.

The Forest Service assures us that it’s burning north and away from town, but we’ve been tense, nervous. The animals in our psyches are uneasy. The arrival of monsoon rains this afternoon could mean that the fire will be drenched. So, let the rains come down.

So far, not a drop, but even the thickening cloud cover will help.

I had my own monsoon rain earlier this week, prompted by overwhelm and fatigue. I cried and cried until I was shaking and my teeth rattled. It was a deeper release than I have experienced in many years. It left me limp but ultimately revived my spirits and brought me a sense of clarity by morning.

The smoke in the north continues to ascend. Yesterday morning, it blanked the area so thickly we could not see the trees in our yard even from ten feet away. It hurt to breathe.

It started with a lightning strike, this fire. Such fires are a natural part of the forest’s life cycle and clear out the underbrush that can lead to more devastating fires if left to grow unchecked.

Such fires are essential, but can become a threat to those who live in close proximity. The price we pay to be near wilderness is to be near all of its natural cycles.

Our nation too is experiencing an essential fire. Our hearts have been set aflame with the urgency of purging our society, finally and thoroughly, of racial prejudice.

Our hearts are finally not willing to further endure or allow the shameful litany of injustice against peoples of color that has made its bloody and unconscionable mark on our past and on our present.

The fire in our hearts also started with a lightning strike.

On Memorial Day, a middle-aged black man named George Floyd was killed by suffocation in Minneapolis. He was being arrested for allegedly using a counterfeit twenty-dollar bill to buy a pack of cigarettes at a convenience store. Derek Chauvin, a white police officer, held Floyd handcuffed and lying face down in the street by kneeling on Floyd’s neck for nearly nine minutes as Floyd repeatedly said, “I can’t breathe.” A second and third officer further restrained Floyd while a fourth prevented bystanders from intervening.

It was not the first of such deaths in our country. It was just one more in the long history of our nation’s acts of oppression and extreme aggression towards peoples of color.

But it was caught on camera, and the outrage at this act of violence spread like a wildfire, across the city, across the nation, across the entire world. Igniting hearts towards change. Towards change that can no longer be denied or delayed. Change that must happen now.

Finally, the good men and the good women are no longer willing to do nothing.

Finally, they are willing to stand up to evil and reveal the sickness in the bone, the never eradicated pandemic of racial prejudice and hatred that chokes our society.

They are standing up in the cities. They are standing up in the small towns. They are standing up even in the deep south where prejudice is the most engrained.

They are standing up to speak truth. They are standing up to demand justice. They are standing together, every race together for each other.

Let their cleansing fire burn, let it clear away the illness deep in our marrow, so that we can heal, so that we can finally become whole.

Let there be no drenching of this fire that encourages true “liberty and justice for all.”

Statues of Confederate generals are being pulled down across the American south, even in the racist heart of Virginia. Statues represent that which we honor and also that which governs us. The removal represents that racism and division are not what we honor. They are not what governs us.

Let what governs us be our hearts and the dignity they deserve. Let us honor the statue which represents all that America strives to be, the Statue of Liberty.

As I write this, thick drops are beginning to hit the windows. The rains have arrived. To the north the clouds are black with moisture. Curtains of grey rain are falling. I think our concerns about the forest fire can be laid to rest.

But our concerns about the future of our nation and the world can not be laid to rest. We must continue to stand up against injustice. We must continue to make our voices heard. Silence is not an option.

History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period
of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people,
but the appalling silence of the good people. – Martin Luther King, Jr.

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Being Home: A Southwestern Almanac is a laugh-out-loud story collection made for radio featuring quirky characters shaped by the seasons, the desert landscape, and small-town living, making audiences feel right at home in the Mimbres Valley. From Brandon Johnson’s mystifying encounter with a coyote to Ernesto Puro Corazon’s 6^th grade drive to school with his abuela in his Chevy Impala SS, Claussen captures moments and people that are sure to surprise and entertain.

The collection is illustrated with a unique photographic series taken by her daughter, Ajalaa Claussen.  Ajalaa says, “I wanted to capture the essence of each story in the images, placing the reader in the moment. But, I also wanted to create space for the viewer to imagine themselves as one of the characters.”

Catalina Claussen is a southwestern storyteller, young adult novelist, and poet whose works include young adult novels Diamonds at Dusk (2016), Diamonds at Dawn (2018), Holding on to Hope (forthcoming), and many poems. Born in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada and now a long-time resident of the Mimbres Valley, Claussen has gained an appreciation for the slow pace of small-town living. Her work has been recognized by the Arizona-New Mexico Book Awards, Wishing Shelf Book Awards (in the UK), and the New Apple Book Awards for Independent Publishing.

She will be at Future Forge Maker’s Market in the Silver City Main Street Plaza throughout the month of August to sign and sell copies of her current young adult novels, provide a preview of an advance copy of Being Home and offer the chance to pre-order signed soft or hardcover copies. You can also visit the booth to register for her giveaway contest to win a free copy of Being Home.

The Being Home podcast is available at catalinaclaussenbooks.wordpress.com. Follow Catalina on Instagram @catalinaclaussen or on Facebook.

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Eve West Bessier                                                                                                            June 4, 2020               

How Deeply Does Love Reach?

“Let love show you its reach.”

         Stewart S. Warren

How deeply does love reach?

Does it turn into heat and reach into a frozen heart,

thawing all that threatens to break as ice will break,

turning all into that which flows as water will flow?

Does it turn into music and reach the deafened ear,

reminding it to listen when listening is difficult,

and rendering a reality of a new harmony?

Does it turn into understanding and reach into fallible prejudice,

showing the similar outweighs the unknown different,

bringing the realization of ultimate kinship attested to by our evolution?

Does it turn into sand so that outmoded structures can collapse,

hardened hierarchies crumble in the face of new faces,

of women, of peoples of color, of youth and vibrant destinies?

Does it turn into wind so that resistance is made futile,

and acquiescence is liberty to be authentically real,

genuinely vulnerable, able to change and grow perpetually?

Does it turn into light and reach beyond the closed doors of a mind,

opening darkened corners of thought to alternative vistas

that clear all stagnant pools of stubborn, self-centered angst?

Does it turn into a promise that weaves its probability of freedom

through every fear, every act of violence, every shout of anger,

and softens every pharaoh’s heart into a potential for humility?

Does it reach deeply enough to touch us with our own divinity?

Does it reach deeply enough to heal us with our own highest consciousness?

Does it reach deeply enough to create of us an enlightened race of humans

who choose to live as one species, as one family, as one diverse yet united tribe?

It does!

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