It was a solitary Christmas for me. I had split up with my husband, and I was living in a furnished apartment in Albuquerque, NM in 1978. I woke up Christmas morning and looked out the kitchen window toward the Sandia mountains. My blue 1972 VW sat in the parking lot below, dusted with snow.
Just inside the front door of my apartment, next to the little dining table sat the cardboard shipping box from my parents. I took the box to the couch and sat down with my coffee. I hadn't seen my parents for more than a year. I had seen my brother recently – he came to visit when I was still living in the mountains in Cedar Crest a while back.
I lit a cigarette, sipped my coffee and opened the Christmas box. Mom had made me a couple western style shirts with the pearl snaps and the pointed yokes – the style I wore for gigs with the band, The Last Mile Ramblers. I'd been playing piano with the honky-tonkin' Ramblers for a couple years at that point. The band was popular and band leader George kept us working regularly. It was pretty much all I did in those days, so having some time off in my furnished apartment was a little, well, solitary.
Our lead guitar player, Tommy, had invited all the band members to his house in Bernalillo for Christmas dinner. Tommy was/is a great cook, and I seem to remember the bass player Daved often contributed something tasty at our band gatherings. Looking forward to the day, I got ready to head out to Tommy's. I walked down the snowy apartment steps to my VW.
Sadly, I saw it had TWO flat tires. On Christmas morning.
Well, crap.
Then I remembered that City of Albuquerque had a new program whereby if someone had indulged in too much alcoholic holiday cheer, there was a free cab service to get you home safely. Without any shame at all I called that service. I feigned drunkenness.
Yep.
I pretended I'd had too much to drink, in an early afternoon in Albuquerque, New Mexico, simply so I could get a ride to dinner at Tommy's. I guess I figured the cabbies were getting paid anyway, so my pretend inebriation didn't cost them anything. And I had a little cash to tip them. And I knew that a bandmate would give me a ride home.
So, here's a photo of me playing piano in some honky tonk somewhere in New Mexico with the Ramblers (I'm guessing “The Headquarters” in Albuquerque). I hope you don't think less of me for lying about being drunk.
Wishing you all Happy Winter Holidays, whatever you celebrate, and in whatever way. I left New Mexico in 1980 and I often miss it. I miss friends I knew there, I miss the band I played with, I miss the high desert and the mountains.
That free cab thing was great.
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