And I was glad I did. I’ve been caught in a loop of Groundhog Rides — basically the same 20-milers over and over and over again — and this was a refreshing change of pace.
There was a slight headwind as I rolled south on the lightly greened Paseo del Bosque trail to I-40, where I hung a right to snap a shot of the Rio Grande from the Gail Ryba bike bridge. More like the Rio Not-So-Grande. Too thick to drink, too thin for swimming.
Pic in hand, I pulled a U and enjoyed a tailwind to the Paseo del Norte trail, then took the usual route back to the rancho, along Bear Canyon-Osuna, up and over I-25, past the golf course and thence to Tramway via Manitoba, and home again home again, jiggity-jig.
Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I had to head south on Tramway to Rover and pull another U to collect enough mileage (kilometerage?) to make the nut.
And then I ate everything in the house and took a shower because hey: It was my birthday. I could do whatever I wanted.
I should’ve taken a picture. It would’ve been one of the few times when someone pointed a lens in Jim’s direction and he didn’t immediately point to his johnson just as the shutter clicked.
Sample photo only. Jethro not included.
Because I was at a celebration of my old amigo’s life. And Jim was in a Chock full o’Nuts coffee can.
It was a nod to “The Big Lebowski,” of course. Also, there were “The Blues Brothers” — brother Larry and Jim’s son, Kelly — who wore dark sunglasses on Saturday as they spoke of their loss to a standing-room-only crowd at the Bull & Bush Brewery in Glendale, Colorado.
Hey, it could’ve been worse. Jim and the El Rancho Delux gang watched a ton of “Miami Vice” Back in the Day®, so it’s nothing short of miraculous that Larry and Kelly weren’t stylin’ like Sonny and Rico.
Me, I went for the “Outside Bought REI and Went to Whole Foods” look: Santa Fe School of Cooking cap, Timberland fleece vest, Patagucchi flannel shirt, Levi’s 505s, Darn Tough wool socks and low-rise Merrell hikers.
One of the many things Jim taught me was how to dress more like Possibility and less like Probable Cause. Another was how many times you can play your favorite Merle Haggard cassette in your own truck without Jim snatching it out of the deck and tossing it out the window at 85 mph somewhere in Utah. (The answer: One time too many.)
Anyway, it was good that I stepped up my fashion game a bit for the celebration of my old friend’s too-short life. Because this wasn’t just the old El Rancho crew, even though we were all in the Bull, shouting at each other over drinks as in daze of yore.
Former Denver Mayor Wellington Webb and his wife, Wilma, were in the house, as was the mayor’s former press secretary, Andrew Hudson, who got us started down memory lane with tales of working (and goofing) with Jim.
Hizzoner likewise delivered a fond remembrance of his longtime fixer, whom he called his “Luca Brasi,” as Jim’s cigar-puffing pals from the Smoking Cave lined up along one wall like an honor guard.
Kelly, Larry, and Andrew Hudson.
For me, the sentimental journey reached its peak when Kelly backstopped Larry as emotion took him off-script during his remarks. Whenever someone told Larry how fortunate Kelly was to have his support after his dad’s sudden passing, Larry replied that it was the other way around. His nephew is a remarkable, self-possessed young man, running smooth on a strong blend of dad and mom.
Mom — the love of Jim’s life, Teri Sinopoli — was in the crowd with her sisters. So were Jim’s sis, Betty Jo, and her husband, Tom; Larry’s wife, Sherry, and their sons, Stefan and Will; Stan the Man; Rudi Boogs and his wife, Tanysha; cousin Guillermo. Lots and lots of cousins, real and aspirational.
I was honored far beyond any merit of mine to be called a brother on Saturday, though anyone who didn’t know the backstory must’ve wondered how this blue-eyed, baldheaded old gabacho with a mug like a dried-up creek bed could’ve been any kind of kin to these beautiful people.
“Oh, one day we thought we smelled a dead raccoon in the attic and found him up there in a nest of old girlie magazines, mumbling something about where was his daddy the mailman. Didn’t seem right, so we brought him downstairs, gave him a little chile. Bad idea. Never feed a stray perro. He ain’t all there, and he’s too often here, like evil tidings from DeeCee.”
I wish Jim’s mom, Lucy, had been there to chide me for making myself scarce in recent years. But she has a lot of mileage on the odometer, even more than the rest of us, and wasn’t up to the journey. And anyway, I wasn’t really a franchise player.
Her son had a deep bench, and never more so than on Saturday at the Bull. Friends and family. Young and old. Colleagues and co-conspirators. Politicos and pendejos. Tales were told; photographs submitted as evidence; the legend rewritten and amplified.
Chris James “Jethro” Martinez always left the light on and the door open. What a blessing it was to have crossed his threshold, to be made welcome, to feel at home; to feel like family.
I didn’t mark my first New Year until 1955, so 2025 will be an anniversary of sorts as we teeter on the brink of another spin on the annual merry-go-round.
In 1955, the first nuclear-powered submarine, the USS Nautilus — in which the late President Jimmy Carter had a hand — put to sea for the first time, a few days before the Pentagon announced its plans to develop ICBMs equipped with nuclear warheads.
But it would be a Soviet sub that launched the first ballistic missile.
The Warsaw Pact and the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization were established.
Emmet Till was lynched. The Vietnam War officially began. Claudette Colvin and Rosa Parks were arrested for asserting their civil rights on public transportation. A time bomb blew up United Airlines flight 629 over Longmont, Colo., killing everyone aboard.
The Westboro Baptist Church held its first service in Topeka, Kan.
The Salk polio vaccine was approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration.
The first McDonald’s franchise opened, in Des Plaines, Ill., as did Disneyland, in Anaheim, California.
The first atomic-powered electricity to be sold commercially powered Arco, Idaho.
Jim Henson introduced Kermit the Frog v1.0 in the premiere of his puppet show, “Sam and Friends,” on WRC-TV in Washington, D.C.
Little Richard recorded “Tutti Fruitti.”
General Motors became the first U.S. company to make a profit of more than $1 billion in a single year.
Steve Earle, Eddie Van Halen, Michael Pollan, Steve Jobs, Brendan Gleeson, Angus Young, Barbara Kingsolver, Eric Schmidt, Colm Tóibín, Dana Carvey, Mick Jones, Willem Dafoe, Luis Alberto Urrea, Gwen Ifill, Bill Gates, Dave Alvin, and Steven Wright were born, among others.
Charlie Parker, Wallace Stevens, James Dean, Shemp Howard, and Albert Einstein died, among others.
Since before I can remember the world has been coming to an end. And yet, somehow, we persist.
The last leaves on the tree? Maybe. Tom Waits was still hanging on in 2011 when he released “Bad As Me,” with the song I stole for my headline.
I’ll be here through eternity
If you want to know how long
If they cut down this tree
I’ll show up in a song
But I notice he hasn’t given us any new music since. …
Mad Blog Media 