whispers of melancholy

We all have regrets. I know I regret a great many things in my life. In a fantastic picture, I wish I could say I regret loosing everything on a game of blackjack. Regret the gambling obsession that forced me into a career as an adult film star so I could pay off my casino debts. And with that, the dirty and sticky recession of my soul that caused me to become a heroin addict. Remorse of owning nothing, and the allure to score another fix. Grief as I stepped into a life of crime, mugging the innocent to score moolah. Filthy green to buy packets of powder and pills. But that would all be lies and exaggerations. Nancy Reagan taught me not to do drugs. Went to Vegas for the first time when I was 35. Don't even own an adult movie. My life is simple and boring.

Like Frodo’s Ring, one regret rules them all – not following my dreams when I should have. My childhood fell victim to peer pressure. Succumbed to the false ambition of academic excellence. See, I thought the way to be accepted by my friends and the world around me was to be someone that owned a fancy diploma matted into a piano-black frame. In a lazy attempt to achieve it, I sacrificed all that was important - my art. And in my race to be accepted, I inadvertently overlooked my one true talent.

I miss the days when I sat in my grandmother’s floor tracing Kid-Flash out of New Teen Titans #28; sitting at the old IBM typewriter in my mother’s bedroom to rattle out a new G.I. Joe adventure; doodling on graph paper to architect new designs of Veritech Fighters; dragging myself out of bed at 5:30 AM so I could photograph colorful hot air balloons.

Now whispers of melancholy dance in the recesses of my mind. Somehow I try and convince myself I can go back. Transport myself back to the past – Roswell, 1985. Tell myself to listen to my 7th grade art teacher who spoke of my raw talent and begged for me to never set down the brush. Ignore the worries of impressing friends because I’d rather study the heroics of Superman than mitochondria. I know it's not too late but life isn't slowing down for me to catch up. So now I make every effort to motivate my daughter to follow her dreams. Do what her heart tells her to do. Ideology that is motivated on the eve of Bree choosing a new school – a new school engrossed in art and theatre. I envy her as she will soon have friends that cherish her artistic talents and support her creative endeavors instead of lure her away.

When Roswell was: "Roswell where?"

I remember when Roswell was just some tiny town no one knew existed. If you weren't a native of New Mexico, you had no clue where Roswell was. There was a time when you could travel across the United States and if someone asked,"whereya from?" We'd quickly reply, "Roswell." And instinctively the next line of dialog was, "oh yeah, Georgia is hot and muggy this time of year." And we'd have to clarify, "no, not that Roswell. Roswell New Mexico." "Roswell where?" Yes, there was a time that no one new the home town of the old Walker Air Force Base. Although when I was young, the base had been closed for many, many years. Even lived on the base once in the 1970's as the old military housing turned to affordable rental properties. I don't remember much from that old apartment. But I do remember it was cold. The floor was a black hard tile. The walls were cinder block. If you weren't wearing socks, the frigid floor bit at your toes. It was simply, "Roswell where?". Then, it changed. Suddenly in 1993 it was printed on maps again. A show, X-Files, somehow made the boring town of Roswell a celebrity. Now everyone knew Roswell. It wasn't "Roswell where?" It was "Roswell where the aliens crashed?" Old copies of the 1947 paper were now on t-shirts and posters. I will say, I was happy to have lived in "Roswell where?" than "Roswell where the aliens crashed?" See, from the time of being a very small child all the way through high school, you could drive down main street, past the St. Mary's Hospital, past by the Denny's at 2nd St, past the Taco Villa, past the Skeen's Furniture and past NMMI (New Mexico Military Institute) and it was just a normal little town. Not any more. Now, there's two alien museums. Green aliens painted on store front windows. Read-a-boards proclaiming "Aliens eat at Arby's" and "Aliens stay the night at Day's Inn." There are stores that sell little alien dolls. Nick Knacks and Bobbles. Heck, I once saw a picture of the McDonald's we cruised in high school has a flying saucer play area. There's parades that make a Trekker blush. And festivals. What happened to "Roswell where?" Roswell of 1982 was my Roswell. But the Roswell of 2009 is too "alienated" for me nowadays. Good thing I have my memories I suppose...

K-Bob's Steakhouse

When I was a child, the Sunday treat was lunch at the K-Bob's Steakhouse. As far back as I can remember, my mother and I would travel to the K-Bob's after church. I remember it was at Poe and Main. It would later move to a location near the ALCO store on Hobbs St. If memory serves, a second location was up north near the mall. I think that north location would later become the Mason Jar. Long before Cattle Baron's and The Outback, there was K-Bob's. It was the true fine steakhouse in Roswell. The steaks were always medium rare and always tasty. But the true treat was the chuck wagon salad bar! Like its name, it was a chuck wagon turned salad bar. The plates were at the end inside a mini refrigerator so your plate was always chilled. K-bob's was the very first place I knew that had a "salad bar". Not only could you get a nice tossed salad with cheese, black olives, ranch dressing and croutons, but a zangy potato and/or sweet macaroni salad. Being only a child, I would try not to fill up on the salad bar as the steak, baked potato and fried okra were always quickly served. We never ordered dessert as there was fruit salad and pudding at the salad bar. The atmosphere was that of an old western steakhouse. There were wagon wheel chandeliers and horseshoes hanging on the walls. I remember the original location to be dark and aged. The newer locations more modern and bright. I'm not sure when we stopped going to K-Bob's and chose to go someplace else yet I do recall enjoying it. It's strange how I started thinking about K-Bob's after all these years. Well, the reason was, my wife and I happen to eat in one in Canon City Colorado. Yep, they're still around. And the funny thing was, I felt just like that little boy, reaching for the bread pudding back in the 1980s in Roswell. To be honest, it was the chuck wagon salad bar that brought the memories back...