Mary Lou Cook

Mary Lou Cook is an iconic figure in Santa Fe. Most everyone you talk to has heard of her and at 90 years old, she's been around to affect a lot of lives. She's a gracious lady and will invite you to come and sit in her 600 square foot apartment that faces east. She's an interesting mix of profundity and eccentricity, and she has something to say about a lot of things. But it all boils down to kindness. Sappy, I know, but when a person who has lived as long as she has tells you about a way to make life easier, you tend to listen.

I don't have any old people around me anymore. My parents are long gone, and grandparents even longer gone. My father's side of the family ends with me, and even though my mother was the third oldest of 17, a good portion of the original siblings are gone. I have more than 150 first cousins, the oldest being 70 and the youngest being around 5 (hmm, think about it), but
familial peer relationships don't carry the same weight as the mom-aunt-dad-uncle thing. In my family, I'm the matriarch. That's a scary thing at 50. I'm supposed to be sandwiched somewhere between my children and their children and my parents and their parents in a cozy place where I have people who keep me in line while I keep my kids in line. It's all very confusing, but think about what being the boss would be like. I have to pull wisdom out of my own back pocket. Sometimes I wish I still had the old bittees around me telling me what to do, or that I'm wrong, blah, blah, blah. Most of you can't relate to what this feels like. It's why I love to talk to people like Mary Lou Cook.

Cook's apartment is a tiny space, and for an artist, there's very little of her work on display. She has a lot of medieval art, including a section from the Bayeaux Tapestry, a few other random drawings and one large picture of her when she was "young" taken 20 years ago. Her art is carefully catalogued away in a pine chest that has a hole in the top from the imperfection in the wood, and you've got to be patient as her tiny frame makes her way to it. As she brings out her pieces of beloved pastecraft, she'll tell the story about Des Moines, Iowa and their suspicion of her artwork, and she'll explain how she turns old tuna cans into something elegant and heavy with intention.

Mary Lou is world famous for her calligraphy, but since macular degeneration set it, she has put down her pens permanently. Her eyes brighten when I tell her about a sensei-teacher I had years ago who was blind from macular degeneration and had surgery to correct it and now is fully sighted. Her eyes grow distant as she realizes the chances of someone recommending her for surgery is probably nil, and she makes peace with her eyes once more.

As an author, she has many books to her credit, but the one that brings her pride to the surface is the book published that documented the stories from Santa Fe's Living Treasure Foundation. This organization was founded by Cook almost 20 years ago, and it was her labor of love. She too has a thirst to know the people who have come before, and this organization documents through photos and stories people over 70 who have made Santa Fe what it is today. My favorite story that Mary Lou told me was about the 1927 Fiesta Queen who became the Fiesta Queen because she was the only girl in the community with a formal dress.

The book, "Living Treasures" includes Cook in its pages, and as she shows me the book, she glances over her page and tells me some of the back story behind the real stories. She knew each and every person who's story is documented, and she knows who's alive and who's dead. I love to hear the back stories on things, and it feels like the time my mother told me the story about the time when my dad was dating my mom and another buxom girl at the same time in 1940, and the girls just happen to meet on a street corner in downtown Denver, started chatting and found out what my dad was doing. I always remember my dad saying, "Christ, of all the street corners in Denver, they had to meet and starting chatting." He knew he was busted. Cook's stories are filled with forgotten moments of forgotten people and she loves to breathe life into their lives if even for just a few moments.

Her real passion is her spiritual life. A Course in Miracles is a spiritual organization that many may scoff at, but since one religion doesn't fit all, I'm always curious about why people choose the spiritual path that they do. She credits her spiritual path from taking her from the dark days of abuse and sadness to a point where she says she's happy each and every day of her life. She believes we make a choice to be happy, to let either let it good to bad thoughts, and we can consciously choose our mindset and how we react when bad things come our way. For Cook, it all boils down to kindness.

Cook is an endlessly generous person, as are most people who understand where real power comes from. She's not attached to things, but is attached to spreading the message that only the elderly really truly can sell. Be kind. Anything else is a waste. Live this moment, right here, right now. Tomorrow hasn't come yet, and yesterday is dust.

Her daughter arrives bringing groceries and homemade green chili, and they chat about the menu for upcoming Thanksgiving dinner. As I take Mary Lou's picture, her daughter comes to her mother who is sitting in her chair by the kitchen and smooths her hair and tells her how pretty she looks today.

Mary Lou Cook has to get going, she has a wedding to perform today, and she has to get ready. As a Reverend, she presides over many weddings, and is sought after for such an honor. She'll continue to be teacher, poet, author, and spread her message of kindness. She's happy to sit with a college student learning the skill of interviewing and photographing, or to officiate at weddings, write a forward in a new book, or teach people it's okay to be creative and express whatever moves you.
It's safe to be around Mary Lou Cook, really, all you're going to get from her is love. It doesn't matter when love comes from someone young or old. It's just plain old love.

Her daughter was right, she did look pretty.

Tattoo Tammy

On the road between Santa Fe and Madrid (Madrid as in "mad" at you and get "rid" of that damn cat) is a little wide spot in the road. Tammy Lange has weird-assed collection of trash, highway refuse, road-kill, piano guts, halloween decorations, propane bottles, and anything else she can find. The space used to be a putt-putt course, and the green astro-turf is gone, but the Tammy has used the little structures for her own art.

Tammy sounds "eccentric" at this point, probably.

Tammy Lange, nicknamed "Tattoo Tammy" is a hard drinking, hard living woman of about 50 who wears camoflouge tights and a denim skirt with two zippers in the front, something my ex-husband used to call a "quickie" skirt. Tammy wears a leather cowboy hat the squashes down out of control hair, and her animated smile reveals the fact she's missing a lot of teeth. She has kinetic energy and waves her arms wildly when she talks and uses her laugh as punctuation. Two-Tooth Tammy isn't for the faint of heart.

Tammy is in the process of taking apart her signature on the putt putt course since a dispute with the landlord has escalated to the point where Tammy's ready to put a match to the whole lot. Saturday evening was supposed to be the night when the bonfire would start, but when we came by at sunset, Tammy was nowhere to be found, and the weird-assed collection was was still there.

Tammy shares her philosophy on life, but on her terms. Give her 20 minutes. Then she'll be ready. She'll talk your ear off, maybe even give you a hug, and then she's done. Give her 20 minutes. Then she'll be ready. She'll talk your ear off. Again. Speculation abound as to what she's doing with those 20 minute breaks when she disappears into the trailer that's had the siding taken off and sold to the recyclers for money.

Out by the arroyo that's behind the property, there's a half full bottle of Jack Daniel's and a 2-liter bottle of Coca Cola sitting on a sun-bleached picnic table and everything looks like it's been there a while. She bums a cigarette and reminds people to put money in the donation box. Money, cigarettes, whatever, she doesn't care.

One of Tammy's favorite mediums is road-kill. People bring her road-kill or tell her where it is and she goes and gets it. She laments about how hard it is to hitchhike with road-kill.

The putt putt course also comes with a river of glass, and Tammy encourages people to find a bottle and throw it into the river and she reports you'll feel better right away. She's also generous about letting people take whatever they want from her collection. A stack of skulls grace a pyramid of junk and she lets the new adopter know it's okay to rename the skulls, even though they already have names.

Locals corroborate Tammy's story about the blue-meaney landlord. She is regarded as a embarrassment by the upper-crust hotel owners and as harmless as a stray cat marking its territory by the everyday folk.

I really wanted to see the junk go up in flames.

Hats off

Scott O'Farrell is the owner of O'Farrell's Hat Shop in Santa Fe, NM. Using a device that measure the customer's unique head size and shape, O'Farrell starts the process of making a custom cowboy hat that starts in the neighborhood of $1000. Past customers include Renee Zellweger, Jennifer Tilley and Russell Crowe.

The hats are made at the little building around the corner from the main square in Santa Fe that houses the showroom upstairs and the work space downstairs. The people who make the hats are craftsmen in their own right and it can take up to 12 weeks to make one hat.

I always wore Resistol hats when I was riding my horse, Mickey in Little Britches Rodeos in the 1970's. These hats are almost too special to wear while calf-daubing or pole bending, but if you lose it in the arena, I'll bet O'Farrells would get the hoof prints off it.

Time's a Wastin'

The Amtrak train that heads east from Albuquerque makes a stop in Lamy, NM. Lamy is a hamlet consisting of a few houses, a train museum, a bar and the train station. The building at Lamy is a time-warp experience, filled with heavy wooden seats with dark green leather upholstery complimented by framed black and white photos of young old men that stare back at the lady in the cage who sells tickets to exotic destinations such as Kansas and Wyoming.

Today, the stop at Lamy is extra long due to the lateness of the coroner. An old lady with a walker and luggage with tiny purple flowers on it passed away somewhere between Lamy and Albuquerque.

Jason Small and Drew Jaynes and I were passing through Lamy when we noticed the train and the accompanying signs of delay. Children with harried mothers and Amtrack personnel who repeatedly glance at their watches hung around the platform. Everyone notices the cold wind, but it's better than staying on a waiting train.

Jason wanted to get video of the train pulling out, Drew wanted to talk to people and take pictures of the depot. I just walked around, hoping to find something to shoot.

I ended up at the front of the train which had two engines and the platform only goes as far as the first passenger car. A customer service representative in a suit and tie nervously consumed a cup of coffee from a paper cup and I asked him about the delay. As we were talking, the conductor came walking toward us and I realized the conductor was a woman.

Martha Akeman of Albuquerque is a short compact woman with well manicured nails and a quick smile. She says she's worked for Amtrak for 26 years, with 11 years as a conductor and loves her job. Even on days like this when a passenger has a different "final destination" than the one printed on the timetable, Akeman wouldn't think of doing any other job.

The coroner arrives to take the dead old lady off the train and everyone gets ready to roll out of the station, minus one passenger. The coroner takes the old lady's walker and luggage with little purple flowers on it and puts it in the ambulance.

Jason prepares to get his video of the train pulling out and Drew talks with the conductor and the customer service representative and takes pictures of the depot. Life goes on.

Akeman consults her watch for probably the hundredth time today and even though her schedule is a train-wreck, she prepares the flyer for departure.

Minus one passenger.

Santa Fe New Mexico

New Mexico is a complex place. The foliage is harsh and dry, the skies are wide with iconic clouds and mountains refuse to line up like our Colorado mountains that stand at attention along the Front Range. There are no skyscrapers in Santa Fe, only old buildings, churches and rock formations that don't put a strain on your cardio system getting from one level to another.

People are friendly, the homeless population is highly visible and there aren't a lot of young people. Despite mild days, there aren't a lot of motorcycles on the road as there are here. Colorado's die-hard bikers would ride in the snow if tire companies made tire chains for motorcycles. Pedal bikes, runners, scooters and dog walkers are all curiously absent. Where is everyone?

One place I did find huge crowds: Whole Foods. However, Denver's Whole Foods is a "mom and pop" organization compared to the sheer size of Santa Fe's healthy alternative. Wholesome acres.

Department stores tightly pack their merchandise, but there aren't many shoppers. Sales associates are laid back and friendly, but shelves filled with Levi's denim jeans aren't in order according to size.

I saw only one of those hard-boiled, straight haired blondes, the ones who wear a size 2 on her bloated days, drives a monster SUV with 2.5 kids in the back and a non-fat latte from Starbuck's in one of the 7 cup-holders that sits next to her as she aggressively drives while practicing her religion of consumerism. All the while she's trying to find meaning in life through credit cards and scrap-booking and thinks texting is for intellectual fatties. I think Highlands Ranch is their mecca, and she'll probably try to work her way north eventually.

Santa Fe television stations have fewer commercials than Denver stations. There are fewer radio stations, but there are more choices for Spanish speaking listeners. Only one station is playing endless Christmas music. Maybe they were playing it on the Spanish stations, but I missed it.

Santa Fe has, to its credit, Baskin Robbins ice cream parlors. Apple Pie ice cream seemed to be the favorite. The El Rey is a nice hotel to stay at, filled with southwestern charm, but behind the pictures on the wall, someone has put a stencil that says, "Stolen Picture." The laundry room stays open till 10 pm. There's pop in the vending machine, but no water. Room 19 has a ghost.

Santa Fe from the outside looks pretty damn boring. It's a city you have to see by looking past it and into the lives of the people who live there. Every type of person from wise to weird lives near the surface in Santa Fe.

Oh yah, there's lots of cactus.

Photo Rescue=Magic

PhotoRescue is a miracle.

I shot some images in O'Farrell's Hat Shop just around the corner from the main square in Santa Fe, NM during the last Social Doc class this last weekend. I made the colossal mistake of mingling CF cards in my D200 and D300, and even though I format each card after each use, I've been asking for trouble. My card karma caught up with me when I was uploading the images and I realized that I was missing about 100 images. They were simply gone.

Thank goodness Josh Lawton came along on this SocDoc trip, and he reminded me about PhotoRescue. For the uninitiated, PhotoRescue is a great, $30 program that scans errant cards and pulls old data off the card and "rescues" as many of your pictures as possible. Now, it doesn't work on data that has been rewritten with new data, but it brings back as much as possible. I now have most of my pictures back.

This little program is worth $30. Here's the link:

http://www.datarescue.com/photorescue/

Thanks again, Josh

ESS

On a recent Social Documentary trip to Taos, Gabe Christus came across this story and asked me if I would go along and write the story. Gabe took the images, I produced the audio slideshow.