Cortez, Colorado is a colorful, small, Western town. There is something very comfortable about this town. Maybe it reminds me of the 1940’s and 50’s small town America of my youth. We stopped a the Cortez Culture Center and that ended our exploration of town.
The building is an interesting one, very Western. Both sides have beautiful murals. Inside is mostly local crafts for sale and a bit of history in exhibits.
I took a picture of these painted skulls and then I spotted the Shamon’s Medicine Stick on the right. I bought it. The prices here are quite reasonable compared to many other places we’ve stopped along the way. I don’t know why we didn’t take a decent picture of it. I guess I got excited and we got it wrapped and headed for a mailing center down town. Unfortunately, the mailing center wouldn’t take it because it was two big. The center uses Fed Ex and UPS and neither will take a package that size. Hmmmm! We managed to fit it in the Bronco.
And, when we got back to the motorhome, it was a difficult decision about where and how to store it without damage until the motorhome arrives in Murphys in Oct. 2013. We unloaded and reconfigured a storage area in the back of the motor home. I would have to say my usually, congenial partner was much less enthusiastic about this purchase than me.
We are parked at the American Legion and decided to have a fast food dinner and watch the horseshoe games scheduled there on Thursday nights.
It turned into a horseshoe ballet.
.
.
.
The body language, the facial expressions. Hey, this is better than watching the pros.
.
.
Some of these gestures are suggestive of another expression. Truth to tell, I was trying to get a picture of a horseshoe in the air and failed. But the ballet was interesting.
Also interesting was this pick the players carry. It is used to dig the horseshoes out of the sand. We have a pit at home, but I’d never seen one of these.
Nor had I seen these handy drink holders the players like next to their seating outside the protective fence. Horseshoes is obviously a serious pursuit here.
We probably enjoyed the game as much as the players.
We shared a table for drinks and dinner with Mama and Baby Baier, a mother and daughter related to the famous wrestler, Max Baer. The change in spelling is mine, because I have a friend in California who is a cousin to Max Baer and that is the way they spell it. I haven’t checked with Louis Santucci to find out why that branch of the family spells the name without the I.
Jim claims Baby Baier may be small but she has the grip of an oil driller. He also decided to give her a hand-to-hand transfusion of 20 pounds he’d like to be rid of and she’d like to have. Oh, well. I guess you had to be there.
We left the American Legion and returned to the Cultural Center for a Native American Dance. I’ll explain that tomorrow since we are packing up to move to Mesa Verde today.
Que Sera, Sera... Whatever Will Be, Will Be... 