Walking on Mesquite Street toward Klein Park, I meet City Councilor Greg Smith. He’s wearing a black suit and black bow tie – and flip-flops. No socks. I compliment him on the discordance. He says later that Miguel always wanted him to go to a City Council meeting in flip-flops. Greg doubted they communicated the right gravitas for the occasion; but today he’d wear them.
In Klein Park, I see many familiar faces. Several of Miguel’s relatives introduce themselves. There’s coffee and plenty of cookies – and a large bow-tie in a big tree, waiting to be unveiled.
People mostly know each other. I see Irene Oliver-Lewis, whom I’ve known for nearly a half-century – and I’m an outsider. Many of these people grew up here. “This was our park,” someone says. “It didn’t even have grass then. We were into xeriscaping before there was xeriscaping.” Another family member points out that Mayor Klein’s daughter-in-law is present, and that Klein, too, was a devoted public servant.
The morning progresses, as someone puts it, “on Miguel’s time.” Not precisely punctual.
Jeff Sutton, Miguel’s brother-in-law and a pastor, speaks for a while. He mentions the biblical importance of trees, like the one we are dedicating to Miguel. He notes Miguel’s parents named him Miguel Gabriel, for two angels. And as a minister of God, he asks God to send those two angels down to this tree, so that whenever someone, perhaps a youngster with issues, sits in the shade of this tree contemplating a problem or decision, Angel Miguel will assist. His words – upbeat, in a way – are exactly right.
I shoot photographs while I listen. Portraits of the faces, some with funny hats. Many folks present have intricate relationships with each other, as deep and natural as the lines on their faces.
Mayor Ken Miyagashima arrives. He tells a funny story about Miguel and a pal painting “Publisher’s Clearinghouse” on Miguel’s white van and stopping at people’s homes.
The mayor speaks, and I think he means what he says. But of course I think of the irony: months ago, the two battled for the position of mayor. Two men with deep roots in this community. Two men undoubtedly ambitious but also determined to improve our city.
I can’t help recalling the PAC (treasurer: Congressman Pearce’s brother) that viciously attacked Ken. An ugliness brought by greedy outsiders with more dollars than decency. It hurt Ken. And while I won’t allege that the ugliness killed Miguel, it pained him – as did the feeling that fellow citizens might think he caused it. Unfairly, I believe.
Miguel, in a friend’s words, “worked very hard to run a campaign that would go by without him saying anything negative or disparaging Ken, or doing anything that would interfere with their friendship. Even when I tried to talk him into criticizing Ken.” The PAC attacks happened despite Miguel – and may have contributed to the size of Ken’s victory margin.
Leaving, I pause to say hello to Ken, who’s talking with a lady I don’t know. She tells me she’s the one who posted a comment on my blog concerning her own suicidal thoughts the weekend Miguel died. Today she’s approached the mayor offering insight into the city’s mental health services. A client’s view. “Miguel gave me the courage to do that,” she says. Ken mentions having her speak with a mental health advisory committee. He gives her his cell-phone number. They’re still talking as I leave.
Maybe the Angels are already on the job.
Peter Goodman is a local writer, photographer, and sometime lawyer. He initially moved to Las Cruces in 1969, holds two degrees from NMSU, and moved back here in 2011 with his wonderful wife. This is his most recent Sunday column in the Las Cruces Sun-News. His blog Views from Soledad Canyon contains further information on this subject, as well as other comments and photographs, and past newspaper columns.