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Jim Reed
Last updated on Monday, December 23, 2002
Jim Reed is basically compatible when given a cup of coffee, a newspaper, and forty-five minutes silence when he gets up in the morning, therewith explaining his life-long nickname of "Bear." At age fifty-three, he vaguely remembers serving tons of bacon, eggs and creamed beef during his twenty-one years of military service, none of which, thankfully, created causalities upon the sons and daughters of America's finest parents.
Jim Reed Somewhere near the age of fifty, he gave up his quest for material and financial wealth after realizing that Donald Trump's hand firmly holds all five aces. Happiness is now found in the following endeavors:
- Prowling and absorbing the Southwest in search of nature, uniqueness, color and inspiration.
- Being secluded in the small office/study/computer room of his Northeast El Paso home.
- Pampering and over watering his pet Mexican Elder.
- Reading and falling asleep in the comfortable chairs at Barnes & Noble.
- Outwitting his computer's Spell Check and wearing out its Thesaurus feature.
- Trying to understand why obese people overload their trays at all-you-can-eat cafeterias and then select Diet Coke as their beverage.
- Reading and contemplating the works of his favorite poets: Robert W. Service, William Butler Yeats, and Kermit T. Frog.
Jim is graciously allowed to serve as Facilities Manager for El Paso's Bank CNB, therewith sustaining his wife Annie, dog Mookie, grossly overweight cat Zinger, and numerous questionable, yet legal, habits.
"Jim, no one ever accused you of not having imagination." — Richard Vorba
Articles by Jim Reed
The road heads north, from the pass of El Paso to the cross of Las Cruces and farther to the spot where you turn west and leave the Rio Grande's fertile sides. As you travel towards Hillsboro, the road rolls and twists, breaking the straightness and monotony of the Interstate. Now it's time to pay attention; driving becomes work and fun, a test of your attentive ability. It takes effort to escape; the efforts can test your reactions and the fitness of your vehicle. Small trees start to appear. The feeling of going upward gradually becomes obvious. Johnson's New Military Map of the United States, a replica of a map printed for the United States War Department in the year 1861, places all the Forts, Military Posts, etc., and shows Ft. Fillmore, Arizona Territory, positioned aside the Rio Grande, just above Ft. Bliss, Texas and below Ft. Thorn, Arizona. My modern-day H.M.Gousha map of New Mexico shows a Point of Interest symbol for the "Ft. Fillmore Ruins" just below Las Cruces between State Road 478 and Interstate 10. Day One of the Atomic Age, I imagine during the eighty mile drive from Alamogordo to Trinity Site, New Mexico, was much like today except for the early morning rain postponing the experiment from 4:00 to 5:30 a.m. Darkness filled the elongated valley bordered by mountains of hard granite, solidified lava flows and eroded mesas.The rain was undoubtedly welcomed by the sparse yet hardy vegetation decorating the valley floor. The rare summer moisture provided relief from the searing, relentless desert heat - a brief chance to rejoice and replenish moments before disappearring in an unnatural and previously unknown manner. Except for the sound of our 200 vehicle convoy headed to Ground Zero, Day One was sunny, windless and serene, just like today.
If you arrive at Three Rivers Petroglyphs Site on a Friday, Saturday or Monday, you will be greeted by Bureau of Land Management volunteer Mr. Daniel Potter of Tularosa, New Mexico. Potter, several times retired from the normal working world and still active at age eighty-four, holds a wealth of knowledge accumulated while serving the public during the past six years at Three Rivers. Even more than his knowledge, you will remember Mr. Potter - his outgoing personality, friendly smile, firm handshake and eagerness to provide information of the puzzling prehistoric collection of Native American graffiti.
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