I hadn't been to Ruidoso New Mexico since 1999. Since June of 1999 to be exact. The last time I was there I had to bury my brother in a hard scrabble piece of ground in the dry mountains near Mayhill. My mother lives near there and I haven't been back since. Not something I am proud of, just something that happened. I don't understand how we let things slip through our fingers and through our lives and through the years, but we do, and somehow it ends up just being the way it is.
But I went back and it was OK. Yet death was there again, and this time one of my hero's is the one that will spend time in that hard and dusty place. I had the honor of meeting this man several times when I was an artist. I had the privilege to sweat with him as we moved some of his pieces from a truck to the museum grounds. This man didn't care who you were or where you came from, but rather regarded you as a unique individual. He shook your hand as an old friend. I don't think he ever let things slip through his hands. Luis Jimenez, you will be missed, for your art and more importantly for your humanity. Your patch of hard scrabble, your El Jardin de los Angeles is just a little more beautiful now. Adios.
