Went home for lunch and had leftover Barro's pizza and an apple, which I ate out by the pool. Beautiful day, mid-seventies. Sunned my mug and petted the dogs. Also fed the chickens, got one lousy egg.
Bailed into another cover rough for my Illinois assignment, but failed twice. Switched gears and did a spot painting to illustrate Bill Brazelton's ghost for this issue's Classic Gunfight. For many years after the highwayman was shot down by a sheriff's posse, the log where he sat was considered haunted by the natives around Tucson and they would go a mile out of their way to avoid the spot, especially at night. I always pictured it close to the San Xavier mission so I plopped a indistinct version of those white stucco walls gleaming in the distance. Interesting that even my ghosts have an amber glow:
Even More Amber Glow
Lots of fires, lots of glow, lots to learn.
Had to get back into the office to finish Classic Gunfights and my editorial. San Carlos Apache historian Dale Miles called me. Also got an email from Henry Martinez in Reserve, New Mexico asking me if we want a float in the May Elfego Baca Memorial unveiling parade. Hell yes! May get Lew Jones to bring down the Mogollon Fire Truck to ride in. That's going to be fun.
Also talked to the mayor of Kingman, Les Byrum, who is going to introduce Charlie Waters and I this Saturday night. Meghan Sarr came in and asked me if the author Frank Waters is related to Charlie Waters. I laughed, but I shouldn't have. "No," I told her, "but he's related to the Charlie Waters who played for the Dallas Cowboys." She's too young to know or care, and besides my Charlie isn't related to either one.
"To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong."
—Joseph Chilton Pearce
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