Newsletter 2003

"Sheltering the Creative Spirit"

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Taos, New Mexico USA

 

 

 

  The Frank Waters Foundation 

Newsletter, Vol. X, No. 16 - February 2003



Board of Directors
Barbara Waters, President
Mark Rossi, First Vice President
Tal Luther, Second Vice President
Mary Ann Torrence, Third Vice President
Arleene Arnell, Secretary
Mark Rossi, Treasurer
Marilyn Luther, Assistant Secretary
William Farr, Webmaster
Geoffrey Torrence, Consultant

Table of Contents

Tip: You may click on a single title below to go directly to it, or you may read the entire newsletter by scrolling down.
A New Perspective    1
Mother's Soup of Life    2
Gypsy Wagon Pickup    3
Big Ten Anniversary for FWF    4

"Glorious Celebration"    4
We Will Meet Again    5
Valentine    6
Dear Friends of Frank Waters    6
Meeting Frank Waters    6
The Deer Memorial    7
Poem: Frank Waters    8
For Sale to Benefit FWF    8

  

A New Perspective

by

Frank Waters

 

                        Accepting the idea, the possibility, of a planetary imperative requires that we look at the world in a way new to most of us: with a holistic, geomantic, or cosmological perspective. Modern scientific studies tend to show a grid system or network of energy lines covering Earth. At the junctions of these lines are nodes of power comparable to acupuncture points on a human body. Many such sites are oriented toward the solstices and equinoxes, the planets, and the stars. Their influences affect not only the magnetic currents in Earth’s surface, but the mineral deposits and the waters below. The combined energy they release promotes our own development.

                        At such foci stand the sacred mountains of the world, widely regarded as depositories of cosmic energy. Pikes Peak here is such a font of power. To it in the past Indian tribes from the Great Plains and down from the mountains made annual pilgrimages. It was the beacon for the later, white “Pikes Peak or Bust” caravans that crossed the plains. Still later it marked a Mecca for hordes of invalids who believed they would regain health from the region’s pure air and medicinal springs.

                        On other such sites prehistoric peoples erected shrines and mazes, great stone circles, medicine wheels, temples, and pyramids. This is not a new way of looking at the relationship of man to Earth. It is really very old. The Chinese gave it the name we interpret as “geomancy,” which referred to the divinatory art of reading a locality’s topographical features in order to place man’s structures in harmony with the forces of nature. They knew it as feng-shui, “wind and water,” and the lines of energy were lung-mei, or “paths of the dragon.” The British now call Earth’s energy lines “ley lines,” and on their patterns ancients built megalithic monuments like Stonehenge.

                        Similar energy channels in Mexico, called trazos, oriented ancient ceremonial centers, temples, and pyramids. Even the great metropolis of prehistoric Mexico, Teotihuacan, and the Mayan religious city of Palenque, were laid out as geomantic or cosmological paradigms. There are many other examples in Egypt, Peru, and elsewhere of this phenomenon, which Maurice Freedman called “mystical ecology” in his 1969 presidential address, entitled “Geomancy,” before the Royal Anthropological Institute in London.

                        The common purpose of the ancient builders was to achieve harmony with the natural forces of Earth and sky. Their ruins today will visibly express the world view of the vanished civilizations. We can be properly impressed by the divinatory art that enabled these architects to align their temples and cities with astronomical, mathematical, and calendrical precision to topographical and planetary positions. But the modern visionary pioneers who have carried forward and developed the ancient geomantic concept are equally impressive.

                        Early among them was Georges Ivanovitch Gurdjieff, who established in France a school of the mystical teachings of Central Asia. In his doctrine of “reciprocal maintenance” he grouped all modes of existence into a series of energies or essences ranging upward from formless energy, through Earth and its plant, vertebrate, and human forms, to finally the supreme will and consciousness. Each class of energy fed on that preceding it and in turn fed its successor.

                        Teilhard de Chardin, a Catholic priest, advanced the now-famous theory that a “noosphere,” an envelope of thought or a planetary mind, would eventually surround Earth once mankind’s consciousness became unified and expanded. Since Chardin’s death in 1955, Oliver Reiser, a physicist, has reportedly developed Chardin’s theory. Reiser has postulated the existence of a psi or paranormal field of knowing, which is the equivalent of Chardin’s noosphere, and which functions in conjunction with the Van Allen radiation belts surrounding the globe. This bipolar field is something of a planetary cerebral cortex; its two hemispheres correspond to the halves of a human brain.

                        How interconnected everything is! The left lobe of the human brain, as Robert Ornstein has written in The Psychology of Consciousness, controls the right side of our physical body and our rational thought processes. The right lobe is connected to the left side of body and directs our intuitive and spiritual insights. Ornstein’s neurological explanation can be stated more simply: philosophy since the time of Pythagoras has been based on the principle that in each of us there are two selves. One, the outer persona or personality, is oriented to the material world of appearances, of things. The other is an inner self with an apperception of the universal realm of divine reality.

                        These bipolar tensions have also split world mankind. Western civilization is dominated by the rational intellect, which is chiefly concerned with constantly increasing our material wealth, while the East traditionally has been more devoted to religious pursuits. Reconciliation of these opposite polarities would integrate us collectively as well as individually. A common imperative effort to preserve the global Earth from further destruction may well unite us all on a higher level of consciousness. Could this eventually lead to a postulated planetary mind consciously functioning as a part of a universal process of still greater integration?

                        How nebulous, incredibly vast, and immeasurably lengthy such an evolution of Earth and man appears to our puny, limited minds! Yet the trend of thought manifested by so many intuitive spokesmen points the general direction we are already taking. More and more of us will follow the trails they are blazing, impelled by the dire necessity of changing our mode of thinking in this tragic era of world turmoil. Hence it seems to me that a planetary imperative, with its cosmological perspective, is an inevitable step forward. Curiously enough, it validates the regional imperative of ancient small societies. For in achieving harmony with their immediate environment, they also attained a measure of integration with the world outside. As we know, the whole is in every part.

  (This excerpt from the speech “The Regional Imperative” was presented at the final session of the “Sundays in Tutt Library with Frank Waters Symposium” sponsored by Colorado College, Colorado Springs, on July 28, 1985.  It appears in the new book Pure Waters).

 

 

 

      Mother’s Soup of Life

    by Mary Ann Torrence

 

My astute daughter Holly announced one day, “Life is like Mother’s soup.  You never know what will be in it.”

In full agreement, we could never estimate the surprise importance of receiving a Prosperity Plant as a birthday present from Barbara Waters as well as two good-omen visits in one day from a very large bear at our back door.  Barbara shared her intuition by saying immediately, “You will soon sell your farm.”

Sure enough, within four days we did sell my inherited farm, which had been on the market for three years.  My husband, Geoffrey, and I were elated to finalize this sale as it enabled us to complete our move from Texas to the Sacramento Mountains of southeastern New Mexico.  Inspired by the books and ideas of Frank Waters, we have made major changes in our lives – including finding our “spirit of place” in the Southwest.

Meaningful coincidences have been a continuous, amazing aspect of our relationship since Geoffrey and I first met in the spring of 1970 at a Texas bluebonnet picnic.  Mutual friends had given me a gift of a movie camera that day, so we have a recorded history of our meeting.  A year later Geoffrey, two friends, and I leased a boat out of Nassau and sailed the Bahamas for ten days.  The movie camera footage of this trip allows us still to review our youthful enthusiasm and the adventure of that special time.

In August of 1973 we were married in Albany, New York, by a Unitarian minister with many friends and relatives present.  Forgetting our luggage, we left on an unforgettable (but short) honeymoon in Canada.  Upon our return to Austin, we began to cope with the three-ring circus of duties awaiting us.  Besides directing my own private school, this multitasking process included integrating Geoffrey’s work, an earlier family, and our beautiful new daughter Linda, born in 1977.

Geoffrey had been born in Peoria, Illinois.  His family moved to Darien, Connecticut, during his public school years.  He then enrolled at Brown University to receive a degree in physics before attending Yale and the University of Texas for a time.  Astronomy became his major focus, and his eventual decision to live and work in Austin was motivated by his specific interest in radio astronomy.  After thirty-two years with the University of Texas, he retired and is currently a consultant in satellite communications research, with his own private astronomical observatory called Hoka Hey, meaning “Hold fast; There is more.”

From my west Texas birthplace of Sweetwater, early memories for me include tumbleweeds, dust storms, scorpions, rattlesnakes, and precious little rain.  Memorization and elocution were daily rituals.  By age four, one of my favorites was, “Water for washing, water for drinking; there is nothing like water, pure waters I’m thinking.”  Sixty-four years later, I recently received the honor and privilege of having Frank Waters’ posthumous book Pure Waters dedicated to me.  Completing a full circle for me, this friend and mentor is now a major influence on my life.

At age sixteen, working in a public library as my first employment initiated experiences that instilled in me an enduring devotion to literature.  By twenty-seven I had worked in three public libraries, a county library bookmobile, the Oceanography and Meteorology Department’s library at Texas A. and M., the Texas State Library, and both the Humanities Research Center and the music library at the University of Texas. 

Majoring in music, I also attended North State University in Denton, Texas, and the University of Texas.  As an accompanist for instrumental music majors, I enjoyed the challenge of musical communication. 

During my first marriage to a fine violinist, two babies – Holly and Phillip – demanded my devoted attention.  With them, we moved to Washington, D.C., where my husband, Leo, and I attended the Association Montessori International.  We soon decided to establish our own Montessori School in Austin.  This led to my thirty years of involvement with wonderful children and parents.  Sadly, along the way we lost Leo to cancer.  Upon closing this private school in 1992, I was awarded recognition as “A Friend of Texas” by this state’s Human Resources Division.

Now in my current life as a grandmother, sharing her grandparenting role with Geoffrey, we are enjoying the extraordinary wonder of two talented grandchildren, Mary Beth and Harrison Reed, the precious children of Holly and her husband, Forrest.

Being involved with the Frank Waters Foundation and serving together on its board of directors is another shared interest that Geoffrey and I long will be dedicated to.  Attending in Taos the July 2002 centennial celebration of Frank’s birthday was a highlight of my life.

Settled in now at Serenity Summit, 9,200 feet high and surrounded by Lincoln National Forest in New Mexico, Geoffrey and I continue to believe as Frank Waters told me, “All unfolds as intended.”

With time, Mother’s Soup of Life grows ever richer and more nourishing.

 

 

            Gypsy Wagon Pickup

            We’re off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard Kiami, in our glorious pea-green gypsy wagon!  We’re off, that is, if we don’t prefer to sit in it for another eleven years and feast our eyes upon the scrumptious landscapes surrounding us here in Taos.

            Mary Ann and Geoffrey Torrence have gifted FWF with the Kiami Gypsy Wagon.  Kiami, meaning “eagle,” is the pet name given Mary Ann by her two grandchildren.  The “wagon” is actually a wooden shell the size of a large guest room set on a 1946 Chevy pickup frame with original front end.

            This whimsical contraption was created by Ron Boyd about twenty-five years ago.  In it he gypsied from California north to Washington, east to Arkansas, as far south as Arizona, and then up here to northern New Mexico.  When he sold it, his pride-and-joy sat in the same Taos location for eleven years without moving.

            Raring to go after Torrences recently purchased it for us, Kiami Wagon started right up without a whimper and jaunted over to Ron’s house some distance away near Trampas.

            Here he has been renovating its Victorian gingerbread trim and pillars, its stained-glass and bay windows, its fancy green grass wallpaper.  A raised bed with storage underneath, chairs, a desk, shelves, small salad sink, refrigerator, stove, and woodstove will round out the amenities.

            Soon we will be off and running with another mini resident’s studio for creative movers and shakers!

            Thank you for your blessings, Kiami.

 

 

 

                              Big Ten Anniversary for FWF

            “Wow!  That’s amazing,” exclaimed our treasurer Mark Rossi when reminded that it has been ten years since we started the Frank Waters Foundation in 1993.

            First there were four of us signing the papers: Frank, Mark, myself, and Tucson lawyer Daniel Turner.  At long last we had found a lawyer who valued stewardship as much as we did and knew how to make it happen.  “I knew right then and there that our success was a done deal,” Mark recalls.

            Then Arleene Arnell, Frank’s niece from California, joined us as Foundation secretary on June 25, 1993, for our big Coming Out weekend in Santa Fe.  About this I wrote two months later in our first newsletter, “As Frank slept undisturbed on a couch bed in the same room, Mark, Arleene, and myself folded and packaged note cards until we were slap-happy.  Before going to bed, Frank had signed posters with Mark’s obliging assistance.”

            That weekend we conducted our first board meeting besides selling the above items and attending two honorary dinners, a breakfast, and book signings of Brave Are My People at Copeland-Rutherford Gallery and Old Santa Fe Trail Book Store.  Even Kevin Costner showed up for a signed copy!

            My newsletter article commented about Frank, “His remarkable stamina carried him through a smooth television interview Sunday morning with veteran interviewer Ernie Mills, who made it seem simply like more fun.  Yet this program will become part of the state’s oral history archives permanently preserving the passing parade as well as Frank’s ideas about expanding human consciousness, which he mentioned as one of our Foundation goals.”

            Since then we have covered more ground than can be detailed in this issue.  Suffice it to say, we have negotiated a Taos Land Trust easement and conducted numerous educational workshops, acquired two residency studios and a new roof, hosted dozens of creative residents, and instigated or participated in the publication of at least nine books.

With the expertise of webmaster William Farr we have created an outstanding website (frankwaters.org), which is to be enlarged.  We have contributed to the enrichment of local music, conducted art shows in Taos and Tucson, inspired and funded sculptors, given public speeches, readings, and classroom lectures, conducted group discussions, awarded writing prizes, and begun an endowment fund.  We also made a grand success (according to our goals) of the four-day Frank Waters Centennial.  All this on the merest trickle of money.

Projects for the near future include an anniversary mini-celebration in July (see next newsletter), a small Foundation storeroom/office addition to the main house, the 2003 residency program, newsletters, Callan’s collecting of “Meeting Frank Waters” written stories, website expansion, the 2003 - 2004 Frank Waters Southwest Writing Award, workshops, study groups, grant-writing, studio three completion, endowment expansion, ongoing publication of four books – including Centennial speeches and photographs.

Wow.  That is amazing.  

                                   “A Glorious Celebration!”

  

We will not soon forget the Frank Waters Centennial.  Holly Reed, our professional photographer, has sent two exquisite albums blossoming with photographs from the celebration, which more than two hundred persons attended.  My pot of miniature pink roses from the Saturday night dinner table is another flourishing memento, besides the photos.  And bouquets of appreciative words keep arriving.

Rudolfo Anaya writes that he and his wife want to thank all “who worked so hard on what can only be called a glorious celebration!  Frank was proud of us!”

Beth Silbergleit, U of NM archivist, writes that she enjoyed hearing “an eclectic array of speakers [listed on our website under “Centennial”] and perspectives, and the opportunity to meet new people and renew friendships with others whom I had not seen for a while.”  Although she was unable to experience Sunday at our home in Arroyo Seco, Beth thought it was “a real treat” to spend the first three conference days at the Mabel Luhan House --“a perfect venue for the celebration.”

John Nichols with his personal reminiscences and Alex Blackburn with his literary criticism began an interwoven pattern for understanding the complete Frank Waters that balanced and re-enforced itself throughout the symposium.  Across the top of a July 19 photo of himself atop a favorite mountain, John later scrawls, “Frank should be clicking his heels over your love and support!”

Ann St. John Hawley’s hand-painted orange nasturtiums card, another bouquet, reads:

Thank you for the fantastic experience of being so close to the beautiful

existence of Frank Waters.  It was not only a historic occasion – but

such a tender event – so many people of like mind and filled with love

and admiration for him and for you.

I was grateful for Alexander Blackburn’s comments about Teilhard de

Chardin and Waters (their affinity of spirit).

I loved Vine Deloria and “Silence.”

Denise Chavez – a great and eloquent woman.

Tal Luther – his presentation absolutely exquisite in its detail – such

love for books – the collector’s spirit – such poetry!...

Writes musician Cynthia Stacey, who also spoke and recorded the speeches of others for us, “At the Centennial I received a lot of inspiration and clarity for my own writing...”

Lucy Bell says:

I enjoyed Tom Lyon and Patrick Burns addressing the issue of “truth” in

Frank’s writing.  My favorite statement regarding that, (similar to one

that Tom gave us) is: “All stories are true and some of  them really

happened.”  I loved the anecdote that Patrick gave regarding Peggy

Church’s book, where Frank ended by saying, “Mine is the true story.”

He of course was right because there is the objective factual truth and

then there is the mythic Truth.  One is the truth of the ego and the other

is the Truth of the Self.  Frank helps us connect with that deeper Truth,

which is what we all hunger for.

A bouquet of heartfelt thanks to devoted, volunteer committee members who worked so hard and self-sufficiently on our A Team with Tal Luther as chairman and Marilyn Luther as secretary.  They included super-saleswoman Elise Backinger and her husband Kent Strickland, Marty Meltzer, Margot Wieland, Irene Falk (the Fruit Salad Lady), webmaster Bill Farr, Mary Ann and Geoffrey Torrence, Holly and Mary Beth (the Raffle Ticket Sprite) Reed, Mark Rossi, and Al and Renate Collins.

And then there was the creativity of Mary and Howard Taylor, who distributed to speakers their 1983 photograph of Frank and myself; of video-taper Robert Callan, and his wife Marilyn, who thought up a “How Did You Get To Know Frank Waters and His Work?” project (call her at 719-686-1969); of Jerry Edelen’s hooked rug gift bearing Frank’s epitaph; of sculptor Mark Rossi’s bronze presents to Luthers and six volunteers; of Katie Woodall’s original poster portrait of Frank, auctioned off to Charles and Gayle Hodges for $1,000.  We’ll always remember Joe Gordon born again as Vine Deloria; the contra dancers (“a blast and a half,” writes Bill Farr) led by caller Jim Buechler; the musicians including familiar Jennie Vincent and Peggy Nelson; and Pueblo Governor Vicente Lujan and his wife, Beatrice, with the hit of the conference in tow – Frank Samora, the “Man Who Killed the Deer,” and his beautiful daughter Maria.

At our place that last day Frank was closest to us, speaking through his favorite talking aspen leaves.  Time ran out on us so that I couldn’t give my speech.  Instead, I presented my copy to Frank’s old friend Quay Grigg.  He writes, “I strongly regret that you didn’t wrap up the conference with your wonderful piece.  Hearing it there while we listened to the trees would have been magical.”  Instead people can read my uprooted “Rooted” speech on our website.

At the same place, also be sure to catch John Nizalowski’s fine review of the Centennial.  That man can write!

Mark Rossi’s bronze paperweight medallion, a rare Centennial souvenir, is now available for $55, shipping included.  It features Frank’s profile on one side, aspens on the other.  To order, call us here at 505-776-2356 or write.  Thanks also to Mark, along with Peggy Andrews, for promoting Waters centennial discussions, readings, and a library exhibit last fall in Tucson.

The other lovely souvenir available for $50 is a limited edition broadside created by Tom Leech at Santa Fe’s Press at the Palace of the Governors.  On handmade white paper, it features a delicate-looking stone imprinted with Frank’s long “life is a great white stone” quotation from People of the Valley.

The Centennial, too, remains “a complete, rounded moment, which contains all.”

 

         “We Will Meet Again . . .”

            It saddened me greatly to learn that Charles Hathaway died in Green Valley, Arizona, just a few days after his one hundredth birthday in April 2002.  He was preceded in death by his wife, Berenice.  In typical fashion he’d celebrated his birthday milestone at lunch with a number of his favorite relatives.  Charles consistently made the most of the full century granted him.

Charles and Frank

            After a topnotch career in school finance in Colorado, he painted watercolors and wrote published poetry right up until the end of his life.  In his nineties he wrote his memoir, Back-Alley Boys, about growing up with Frank Waters, which book FWF published and has for sale (see back page).  Charles decided, “Writing is hell!”  But Professor Joseph Gordon wrote of him and his book:

Through his sharp images of their shared world and stories of their boyish escapades, he shows us how their friendship matured to the benefit of both.

Along the way we get a fresh look at the bustling western community

they experienced [Colorado Springs], and how that world and their abiding friendship helped shape Waters.

Carol Raymond, Hathaway’s daughter and only child, generously donated to the FWF collection all of her father’s signed first editions of Frank’s books, as well as Charles’s new Phillips portable CD mini system for our residents’ studio.  We thank Carol and her husband, Bob, for their friendship and valuable gifts to posterity.

As for those two mischief-makers, Charles and Frank, I suspect they are busy again, greasing the stairway to the Pearly Gates before battering them down.     BW

                                                 Valentine

Roses are red,

violets are blue,

we have a grand

new book for you,

best one you’ve read.

            Of course this sonnet means buy it as the perfect valentine for your loved ones.  They’ll adore it – and you.

            Our valentine special is a $40 hardback copy of Frank Waters’ new book Pure Waters, signed by editor Barbara Waters, with no shipping or sales tax charges.

            The book is a combination of Waters’ little known essays, speeches, and editorials.  Most have never before been published.  It’s a magic carpet to journey on, through space or time. The excerpted speech at the beginning of this newsletter reminds us of how timeless the author’s writings are.

The sepia-toned book jacket is one of Ohio University Press’ handsomest.  It features Frank in 1960 patting his favorite horse, Crybaby, beside our barn door, which was uniquely hung upside down and backwards.

            In his excellent foreword, Professor Emeritus Alexander Blackburn writes, “The more one reads Waters, the more one accepts the soundness of his judgment; the longer one travels the road to increased awareness, the more one is astonished to discover that he has been there before us.”

            Last July, Ohio University Press also published a version of Pike’s Peak divided  into three separate books that can be ordered at your local bookstore for $15 each.  Thus a new trilogy is available, but not the original one that Frank wrote in the thirties and much later condensed and consolidated into one book, Pike’s Peak.  Waters fans can now give just their favorite section of this long book as a present, or treat themselves to a collection addition of all three.

            Happy reading on St. Valentine’s Day!

BW

 

 

Dear Friends of Frank Waters:

            Bob, my husband, and I have been impressed when people share their personal accounts of how they came to Frank Waters, a sharing experienced again last July at his magical Centennial Celebration.  Each time we are deeply touched, feeling a warmly human spiritual bonding.  Whether theirs is a seemingly matter-of-fact recounting or some life-altering revelation, we are moved by the synchronicity and significance of Waters in their life journey.  Some name their favorite Waters book and detail its personal impact.

            It strikes us that telling and listening to our stories is a means of participating in a spirit of community around Waters and his work, however far-flung we may be geographically or how disparate the story.  Thus we have begun to compile these first-person accounts of how people discovered Frank Waters.

            Are you willing to tell your personal Waters story?  Are you interested in reading the stories of others with whom you share a love of him and his works?  If so, we would like to receive your piece of writing in 2003.  We encourage you simply to write in your own words and in your personal style whatever you wish to say on this subject.

            Your experiences, insights, feelings, and thoughtful reflections will be a rich addition to this collection.  What attracted you to Waters?  Were you already interested in his subject matter, or are these subjects new and expansive areas of interest?  Has your life been affected by this experience, and if so, in what ways?

            Please send your written sharing to us at 222 Denwood Drive, CO 80816.  Include your name, address, phone, e-mail address if available, and whether you agree to possible publication by the Frank Waters Foundation on our website (frankwaters.org) or in this newsletter.  You may request that your name not be published.

Following are the story contributions of Ann Jauregui and Ted Egri.  Warmest wishes for your health, contentment, and enlightenment during this new year.

Marilyn Callan

 

Meeting Frank Waters

by

Ann Jauregui

 

                        Bringing his tale to a close in Pumpkin Seed Point, Frank Waters spoke of his eagerness to go home to his “little ranch a mile above the Spanish village of Arroyo Seco and adjoining the Taos Indian Reservation.”

                        “Home! How wild and beautiful it was!” he wrote. “A thick-walled adobe set back of a stream in a lawn surrounded by great cottonwoods and flanked by a grove of aspens.”

                        Arroyo Seco. That was just up the road from where we were vacationing, where the pine-forested slopes of the Sangre de Christo Mountains rise up from the mesa.

                        Aware of the snow and the silence, I got up to feel around in the darkened house for a phone book.

                        Frank Waters couldn’t still be alive. Or, he’d be very old.

                        Frank Waters. His name jumped out at me, El Salto Road, Arroyo Seco.  My heart pounded, and the thought came, “I’ll try to call him in the morning.”

                        That night, as the snow came down, I dreamed. I was in the private library of someone’s home, talking with Frank Waters and a woman who was introduced to me as his fourth wife. She was a lovely, blonde person, a Jungian psychotherapist whose name seemed to end in an “a.”  Ramona, Barbara.  Books surrounded us, floor to ceiling; the conversation was easy. I could see Frank, standing tall and slender beside his wife, gesturing as he spoke, and I could see through him. He was in the room, and not.

                        The next morning I sat in front of the phone for a while. Then I dialed.

                        “Hello?” a woman’s voice said.

                        “Hello,” I said, identifying myself. “Is Frank Waters there?” What was I doing? What made me think …?

                        “No, Frank died in 1995,” the voice said, friendly. “At the age of 92.”

                        “Are you Rose, then?” I asked her. In Pumpkin Seed Point Waters had spoken of a wife, a woman named Rose.

                        “No, Rose was Frank’s third wife. I’m his fourth wife, Barbara.”

                        A swallow.

                        “Are you a blonde, Jungian psychotherapist?” I asked her. Too late to turn back now.

                        “My practice is Jungian-oriented, and I’m blonde,” she said, ordinary as buttered toast.

                        “I’ve been hanging out with the two of you all night,” I told her. “In a dream. In a library.”

                        Barbara seemed to be unfazed by this. At least there was no protest, no hang-up.

                        I stumbled on. “My husband, John, and I are visiting here, staying in the house of some friends on the Hondo mesa.  We’re snowed in, and I’ve been reading about Frank living at Hopiland in Pumpkin Seed Point. I finished it in front of the fire last night, and I was hoping … I was hoping it wasn’t too late to thank your husband for this wonderful book.”

                        “Oh, it isn’t!” she said. “Frank is here. He’s all over the place. When the weather clears, why don’t you come up?”

                        The next day the snow was softening in the sun as we curved into the quaint block-long village of Arroyo Seco. “Where are we?” John exclaimed. “Is this the United States?”

                        The narrow street extending up toward the mountains became El Salto Road, running alongside a stream on one side and a herd of buffalo, hunched together in the cold, on the other. Soon we were turning across a small wooden bridge and into the aspens Frank had described, white in the hush of the snow.

                        Barbara greeted us cordially at the door with a little committee of curious dogs at her feet. She showed us around the warm old house and served us tea in front of the fire. The conversation was as easy as it had been in my dream; and when John described the surprise that had rushed in on him as we came into the village, Barbara shot us a look.

                        “Maybe you’re supposed to live here,” she said. “There’s a house for sale next to the post office.”

                        In fact, John had noticed a newspaper ad for the house, offered by an outfit called Dreamcatcher. Of course we ended up buying it.

                        John and I have not moved to Arroyo Seco, not all the way, not yet. But we visit in all seasons; and as we sit on the roof at sunset, time and space breathing in, breathing out, we experience something not in some far and future place but in the now of the Hopi. Frank speaks of it in the voice of the Taos Indian Palemon to his son in The Man Who Killed the Deer. And beside the Waters home, in Frank’s memory these same words speak out from a granite stone resting among the aspens,

                        We will meet again as equal parts of one great Life.

  (Ann Jauregui , a psychotherapist in Berkley, California, has written the new book Epiphanies.)

 

 

 

The Deer Memorial

by

Ted Egri

                 

                        Many years ago I came across Frank Waters’ book The Man Who Killed the Deer. I bought it. Much later I found the Book of the Hopi. This too I purchased. I was impressed with Frank’s understanding and interest in the Native American people. Kit Egri and I had come to Taos in September of 1950, and we were impressed with how close to their roots the Native Americans still were. We felt the same about the Hispanic population here.

                        When news came that Frank had died, I immediately telephoned Barbara and told her that I wanted to create a memorial sculpture for Frank. Barbara accepted my offer; and she told me that Frank loved granite, and I should carve it of that stone! I was eighty years old at this point, and I got worried. At my age I should have to learn to carve the hardest stone in existence? Barbara led me, or drove me, to the place called Cuyamungue Stone Company. We selected a 3,000-pound chunk of granite.

                        At home I prepared for the stone by building a base of railroad ties outside of my studio. Barbara purchased the proper tools for me to tackle the stone with. This consisted of carbide steel chisels and a diamond-studded wheel. I began figuring out in what manner I could depict Frank’s spirit, as the work of his life. Before I could come to a conclusion, Barbara said it had to be a deer! A Mimbres deer! Then I started searching for illustrations of Mimbres deer. I found there were about thirty-two kinds!  Eventually I selected one design from some Mimbres pottery.

                        When it came to designing, the form, Barbara said Frank liked the number seven. So I added a seventh antler.

                        It took me two months of seven days a week carving. Even so my carving came to a fairly shallow depth in the stone. Last of all Barbara chose the words to be put on the stone. The thought of carving them threw me at first. Then I found in front of the Stables Gallery a man named Mark Saxe who had created a fountain sculpture. I spoke with him about my problem with engraving letters into granite. He explained that he had the equipment to do just that! Also he too had great admiration for Frank, and he said he would not charge for his work on the memorial. Some of the words were “We will meet again …”

                        I discerned after dealing with Barbara that she was and is a very attractive woman. And I made the memorial for her as well as for Frank.

                        Before the memorial was moved from my grounds, a forest service friend came by, and I proudly showed him the memorial. I boasted about the durability of granite. He listened and then he said, “Don’t you know this granite will be sand in a million years? All our sandy beaches were granite.”

                        That shocked me. Then I thought about Barbara. How could I break the bad news to her? But I decided to face her with it. When I told her about it, she thought for a while. Finally she said, “I think I can handle that.”

                        A crane or bulldozer picked the sculpture up, and Barbara selected an aspen grove near her to have it placed in. She also purchased a granite chair from a shop in Santa Fe that had imported it from China.

                        I had met Frank from time to time. He was a tall handsome man with a deep voice. I know Barbara misses him, and I admire the way she runs the Foundation.

(Ted Egri, a noted artist and sculptor, is Taos’ Renaissance Man.)

 

                                               

 

Frank Waters
by Diana Linder


The thing you saw when you met him,
that wonderful slash of mouth
smiling with a chuckle
that came from somewhere deep in his chest.

He took your hand with a warm paw,
and made you feel at home . . .
as if perhaps you might have crossed paths
on horseback, in some other lifetime.

His eyes had warmth and wisdom
besides a good deal of humor,
most of which seemed to come from knowing
when to listen.

He spoke in regular words
but the echo of them followed you
like chimes on a windy day . . .
At times, in quiet, you can hear them still.

Mostly he seemed like real people,
the kind that like bird songs
and elbow room, a good horse,
and a chance to tell a fine story.

                                    For Sale to Benefit the FW Foundation

  ·        VALENTINE SPECIAL – Pure Waters: Frank Waters and the Quest for the Cosmic.  $40 hard bound, no shipping charge from FWF.  $19.95 soft bound, order from book store.

·        FWF bronze paperweight keepsake by sculptor Mark Rossi.  Waters profile front, aspens back, 3 ¼” diameter.  $55, shipping included.

·        Broadside by Tom Leech, Palace of the Governors Press, 12 “ x 18” wide, unframed, numbered limited edition.  White handmade paper imprinted with Waters’ “life is a great white stone” quote overlapping stone sketch.  $50, shipping included.

·        First editions of Back-Alley Boys by Charles Hathaway.  $40 hard bound, $20 soft bound + $3 shipping.

·        Video tape “Early School Days in Colorado Springs: with Frank Waters and Charles Hathaway.”  $30 + $4 shipping.

 

 



You are invited to participate in our vision and educational goals by
becoming a member of the Frank Waters Foundation, a non-profit,
tax-exempt public charity. Please complete this form and mail to:
Frank Waters Foundation, PO Box 1127, Taos, NM 87571


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Please make your check or money order payable to Frank Waters Foundation.
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       ($5,001-$10,000) 

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