eNewMexican

Editor’s Note: Fresh perspectives

Spencer Fordin, Staff Writer sfordin@sfnewmexican.com Follow us: @Thepasatiempo @Pasatiempomag

We were somewhere west of Tallahassee on the fringe of the bayou when the Puccini began to take hold.

My Subaru Outback was packed with my possessions, my dog splayed across the backseat, and Santa Fe stood 50-plus hours and nearly 1,500 miles away.

Here I was, two decades into my career, and everything was new again. I was moving to a city I had never been to and an apartment I had rented sight unseen. Heck, I had never even eaten green chile before.

My modern-day Santa Fe Trail — hastily fashioned on Google Maps and tastefully soundtracked by Puccini, Cimarosa, Verdi, and Mascagni — would take us to Houston on Day One and Amarillo on Day Two before ending with a four-hour jaunt into my new home city.

The drive gave me plenty of time to reflect on where I’d come from and to think about where I was going. How did I, a dude who spent 16 years covering Major League Baseball, become an arts writer?

The answer? By making deliberate choices.

After covering more than 1,400 baseball games, I experienced burnout. I didn’t have the vocabulary for it at the time, but I was exhausted from being in the stadium long after the lights had gone off.

My working life had come to a point where I couldn’t enjoy the things I had enjoyed my whole life.

I didn’t want that anymore. So I sought something new.

I became an arts writer late in life, starting with a one-year stint as the editor of a one-man section in Sarasota, Florida.

I planned weeks in advance, I conducted interviews, I wrote the stories, I shot pictures, and wrote all the headlines and captions.

I started to enjoy everything again. Most importantly, I learned that I loved talking to artists! However, I didn’t feel fulfilled because ultimately, I’m not a Florida guy. I don’t want to live anywhere that’s 90 degrees at 9 p.m., and I don’t want to live anywhere that has prehistoric reptiles living in the rivers. And that’s when I was fortunate enough to find a new life in Santa Fe.

I was so innocent 150 days ago.

As we drove west and drew closer and closer to our new home, my heart swelled with excitement and my head ping-ponged from bluff to bluff. I’m an East Coaster, and I’d never seen anything like the American West. When we pulled into town, I drove immediately to the Plaza, where I made my beleaguered dog Pepper pose for a selfie in front of the Santa Fe Trail rock marker.

I’ve been here five months, and I’m still riding the same adrenaline of discovery. I’ve been to Valles Caldera National Preserve and to Bandelier National Monument, and after an initial scare on my first winter hike, I’ve totally figured out the Dale Ball trails.

This is the farthest West and the most beautiful place I’ve ever lived, and I feel fortunate every day that I drive a half-mile and turn right onto Cerrillos to stare into the mountains. Thank you for making me feel welcome, Santa Fe.

NEWS

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2023-05-26T07:00:00.0000000Z

2023-05-26T07:00:00.0000000Z

https://enewmexican.com/article/281590949936722

Santa Fe New Mexican