Inside the abandoned Presbyterian church between Taiban and
Tolar, New Mexico is a range of earthly writings. Some like exhibit one above are exuberantly
positive. Others like exhibit two are as dark as dark can be.
Several years back I re-visited Fort Ord, the long closed army base where I partook of basic training in the summer of 1960. There, too, I came across wrenching graffiti in the barren halls where young men laughed and learned to be soldiers. As best I could figure, squatters had bedded down in the decaying barracks and left us mementos of their angst and desperation.
My examination of the little church's interior walls affected me the same way.
I applaud the message of the headline I purloined from the south facing wall.
I applaud the message of the headline I purloined from the south facing wall.