Get A Grip: An Encounter With Greatness

UNM, the secret hideout of Political Science geniuses/cool dudes:

Fred, or "Senator Harris" as I addressed his proper title, was truly a cool dude. Two courses with him, only classes ever where I had to sit in the front row. Makes me paranoid to sit with my back exposed, anywhere. Shot or stabbed in the back in a previous life is the only potentially plausible explanation. Anyway.

Because I read the books in syllabuses, I spoke freely when idiot mouth-breathers/classmates (a drawback to semi-open enrollment State Universities) so Fred got a kick out of it as I'd have to spin my chair around to thrash the unfortunate one throwing out an ass-kiss response. I love Political Science deeply and I read very quickly and I'm intolerant in room of 'what do I need to do to passers'. I want to hear a former United States Senator and Democratic presidential primary challenger. And as you know, being a student with life experience beyond zits and little tits, you grasp the opportunity to actually learn from smart people. And you're paying a shit-ton of money for this concept. Those people talking at you know more than you, have done more than you in some fashion and you want to pick their brains. Mmm brains.

Fred was a righteous motherfucker. In his life and in the classroom. Easiest class in the world. For the most, his lectures were long and Senatorial. Yield the Senator/Professor Harris as much time as he sees fit. Without objection. Nothing he regaled his captive audience with was ever on an exam and TA's corrected all his students tests and papers. He ran for President for fucksake. Do you think he gives a hoot about what some belt-buckle pink-neck from Catron County has regurgitated from the Let's Explore The Constitution and The Role Of The Court In America? Hey, Gun-rack. Read his goddamn syllabus, you shit-kicker and Miss Bangin' Latinas 112 sitting next to me if you want to follow his train of thought. Or read one of the books HE WROTE. The two smart, hot chicks in my major that I shared many classes with were in the back row. Where I'm supposed to be. Challenging to be older and married and in college, no one mentioned that in orientation. I'm loyal and honorable, never strayed. Universities are jam packed with smart chicks. Uh... Where was I?

Yes. Right then. Ahem. Harris told stories. About the United States of America Senate. He told this story about saving one of my favorite places on planet Earth: Taos and Blue Lake. wikipedia got this right: "was sharply divided on numerous other issues, notably the Vietnam War. In doing so, he had to overcome the powerful fellow Democratic Senators Clinton Anderson and Scoop Jackson, who were firmly opposed to return of the Taos lands. As recounted by Harris' wife LaDonna, who was actively involved in the struggle, when the bill was finally passed and came up to be signed by the President, Nixon looked up and said: "I can't believe I'm signing a bill that was sponsored by Fred Harris.".[4]" I...About Vietnam. Running for freaking President, The Campaign Trail '72 and '76. Sound familiar? Right there, three fucking feet in front of me was live HST-History. Awestruck I was, similar to Bill Murray in Where The Buffalo Roam's bathroom scene where he drugs 'Harris from the Post' and Nixon says 'Fuck the Doomed'. Except twice a week I was privileged to hear realpolitic from an insider's insider.

I believe Senator Harris genuinely enjoyed his UNM gig. And even after graduation I'd bump into him at lunch or dinner out and about at the few Albuquerque better restaurants (expense account days during the roaring Clinton Years), and he had the true politico knack for remembering my name and even knowing I got a gig at Morgan Stanley Dean Witter. Albuquerque is a small town in interesting ways. Offered a glass of wine to Jan and me, or a beer if it was me. Even eating a bowl of green chile stew at the Frontier Restaurant across from campus on Route 66, he had that aura. As you can tell, movers and shakers or his wife or friends really need peace and respect. A great booming Senatorial laugh. I remember him for his presence, I'm certain he was a short guy but had that unique character trait of filling a room. However, I came up with an excuse or two to justify the times I went to his elusive office hours, that's what teaching assistants are for. Yet, he always had a brief anecdote that had nothing to do with my questions if you tracked the Senator down. Weird, he'd tolerate my occasional smack-down of the hayseeds, I suspect that's how a guy who was closer than most men in becoming the Chief Executive delegates to a Rahm Emanuel-type. A mustached hummingbird with a huge melon and a window rattling voice that was 19th Century loud. Hard to explain Harris. He was also decent enough to write me, or rather had someone write me, a generic letter of recommendation years later when I thought about going to law school. Shaking his hand at department graduation ceremony, he hung my Phi Kappa Phi award around my neck and laughed. Jesus he was in fact short, looked me eye to eye almost and laughed. One of those rare moments in life. Fred lived in Corrales, NM, down the road that feels like perfect New Mexico.

In the most selfish of ways, I enjoyed my time at the University of New Mexico as a high-water mark that's very difficult to explain; cliches are sometimes genuine AND gloriously personal.

My seeming misfortune of snapping a few vertebrae allowed me to become an actual student, and I'm going to take a wild swing. About as much fun as a man can have with his clothes on. Small University departments at State schools are goldmines for exceptionally interesting people. Found a box of photos a few weeks ago that I'm intending to scan. There's a snap of me and my fellow backbencher Charles at our tiny graduation party, I'm smiling so hard, Charles' blackness is nearly peeling off. I've a few more Political Science professor tales, the fine gentleman who wowed me with his post WWII diplomacy something-or-other elective, the young man-he was a military liaison of sorts. Played poker with Truman. A drop of tension with some type of big bomb and generals bitching about commies. Political Science stats analysis professor and then friend, quit after my semester. She opened up http://www.kellysbrewpub.com/. Killer pub, as in what's a pint of Guinness on doing Central Ave? Beer is brown?

Wait...there's more! Enough Guokas. Except the Mineshaft Tavern, in Madrid, http://www.themineshafttavern.com, an actual roadhouse and a deathbed dream in Galisteo county. Right there on the backroad to Santa Fe, -Hi-Lo Country (went to the premier in Santa Fe) // No Country For Old Men // Wyatt Earp // Silverado // all filmed on this stretch. Giving free-thinking men of thought a reason to live:/index.html

And Easy Rider, Taos and Georgia O'Keefe, the Roundhouse, and Alamagordo and T or C and the Hila Forest and Silver City and North the Enchanted Circle, Four Corners, Very Large Array with Pie Town, the Owl Cafe with Elvis, the Fair Grounds on Saturday, Sadie's green chile enchiladas, the Winner's Circle Bar down in Ruidoso, Madrid Madrid Madrid and the bat caverns of Carlsbad (Viewmaster in real life)... I enjoyed my time there, good spot for an anglo's 2nd home. Taos Hum. Lord, mercy.

A magnificent diatribe to relive. Brought to you by Bourbon, America's spirit of glory and preferred beverage of free-thinkers everywhere.