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The edge of Earth
My cousins lived in Earth, so you can only imagine that they heard every single ridiculous joke about their town’s name. At our house, when it was time to go up there for a visit, my dad would say we were “going to Earth.” It never got old. (Although it probably should have, at some point!)
These days there’s not much left in Earth. My cousins all moved away, and I can assume that most of their classmates did, too. There’s just not much going on around Earth these days. The Dairy Queen is closed, and so is this service station, out on the edge of Earth, along the highway to Springlake.
It’s not a new story.
Earth, Texas
photographed 5.24.2013
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Another shot at this place (which is also this place), for those of you who are keeping score at home.
The pool’s been vacant so long that there is a nice stand of cattails growing in a marsh at the deep end, which is remarkable since this is in New Mexico – a locale not known for a lot of marshland.
Before the interstate, the main route through town was Route 66, and it was lined with motels and restaurants. Not too many of them are still operational.
One time, a couple of decades back, we failed to have reservations for a hoped-for overnight visit in Santa Fe. We didn’t realize that the Santa Fe Opera was that popular, and that all the rooms would be full. So we headed out, thinking we’d either find a place to stay along the way or drive all night and be home for breakfast.
The first town past Santa Fe is Santa Rosa, where we did find a room in one of the old places along the former Route 66. I think we paid twenty buck for the room, which I am pretty sure was inflated when the desk clerk sensed our desperation (for all our big talk, we really didn’t want to have to drive all night.) The room was tiny, with barely room for a bed. But that wasn’t entirely a bad thing, as the carpet was pretty…questionable…and the bed covered up most of it. We stayed there, successfully, and made it home the next day.
The story would be better, of course, if I could tell you that we stopped for the night in THIS VERY MOTEL. But we strive for accuracy (mostly) here at One Day | One Image, so I can’t claim that. But the place we did stay was right across the road from here.
So, the moral of this story is that you’d probably be better off with a reservation if you want to stay in Santa Fe.
Santa Rosa, New Mexico
photographed 9.22.2013
A two bulb fixture
Corrugated metal. Weathered wood. An sun-lit weed. Conduit nestled into the valleys of the metal. A peeling sign. A partially-boarded window.
And presiding over it all – a two bulb fixture. (To be correct, I guess it’s a ZERO bulb fixture, but you know what I mean.)
Santa Rosa, New Mexico
photographed 9.21.2013
My dilemma
Usually, I don’t even think about it – I just know that whatever I am posting is going to be in black and white. Every now and then, though, a photo will demand to be in color, so that’s the way I post it.
This one, though, has been difficult to reason with. It wants it both ways, and honestly, I see its point. The color one is nice, with the lavender and cream and green and blue. But the other one’s got texture everywhere. I can’t decide.
Opinions/comments/votes are welcome.
Puerto de Luna, New Mexico
photographed 9.21.2013
It’s hard to tell who won the war
The First Presbyterian Church in Taiban was built in 1908 for $250, over half of which came from loans from “the ladies of the Baptist church and the Taiban Savings Bank.”* Hopes must have been high in Taiban back then: the railroad was there, newly relocated from a more northern route. There was a bank, a hotel, a school, and a contract to build 50 homes. There were already over 400 residents.
But then, trouble arrived, in the form of the Pink Pony Saloon and Dancehall. The town was broken into factions; periodic elections made alcohol legal one time, then illegal another, back and forth all the way into the 1930s. By that time, the effects of a long drought and the Depression, as well as the ongoing alcohol wars, took their toll, and the Presbyterian church held its final service in 1936.
After World War II, there were only about fifty residents. But with the church closed down, it looked as though alcohol had won: bars were the tiny town’s only successful businesses. People from surrounding dry counties in eastern New Mexico and the Texas panhandle would travel to Taiban when they felt a need to quench a certain thirst; the wealthiest patrons would fly in, landing at what became known as the Taiban International Airport.
But life was hard, dry-land farming harder. Passenger train service was gone, and the roads were necessarily hospitable. By the 1960s, only one business – a bar – remained in town.
Today, the bar’s gone.
But photographers take the time to pull off the road (which is more hospitable now) to take pictures of what’s left of the First Presbyterian Church. Somewhere along the line, concrete steps and a handrail were added to make for easier access. There’s graffiti now, on the walls – prayers and Bible verses and a sketch of Jesus with outstretched arms as if to say, “Write on these walls, my children.”
Taiban, New Mexico
photographed 9.20.2013
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