Painting the Painted

The airspace around Albuquerque shook our jet plane like a sand winder. 
Chop! Damn! Turbulence!  At dinner, a local CPA (who handles salary cap
negotiations) said the pocketed cross-drafts rattle most first-time visitors,
especially the ones gliding into town from the West and North.  We
sputtered in from the Northeast.  Am I relieved? 

It’s late, and I’m exhausted.  Between dropping Ph. at basketball camp
this morning, sitting in on a search committee for two hours in the morning,
scrambling around to pack, herky-jerking through the Southwestern skies, and
mucking with all of the fine Native Vision folks: p h e w.  Enjoyed the
company of the principal from Bernalillo H.S. at the reception for the program. 
Lots of talk among the athletes about the athletes v. campers basketball game on
Friday night.  If I’m the youngest player, we’re in trouble. 
Bernalillo H.S. won the N.M. 3A State Championship this year. 

After an early breakfast at the hotel in the morning, the 37 folks on the
athlete list are shuttling over to the
Zia Pueblo
for a tour before re-assmebling at the high school.  I brought the camera,
but I don’t intend to tote it around.  Picture, what?  It goes: take
memories, leave dust tracks. 

Nice talks with Jim Rourke (of B.C. and the KC Chiefs, Oakland Raiders) who
now lives in Boston and who had nothing but fondness for the Carrier Dome–when
the subject of Syracuse came up.  He told me he played against SU in
November during one of the last seasons before the dome was built. 
November 12 of 1977?  Yeah it was cold.  And SU won, 20-3: even
colder.  Enjoyed listening to Scotty Graham and Steve Jordan (former Vikes)
chat..oh, and Toni Linhart.  Heck, everybody.  NBAers?  Just as I
was coming up to my room, Dan Roundfield was checking in.  Camp sessions
start tomorrow afternoon. Quite a group.