Patton was a run at Taos Ski Valley. Along with Stauffenberg (failed Hitler assassin).

Do you really think I stumbled upon Powderhorn? Another designer said that he saw the sign (apologies to Ace of Base) leaning against to top of Lift 6. I went up the stairs to the founder’s widow’s apartment and asked for it to come down. And here we are.

My parents first went there in the '70s. “Hahnloser … Hahnloser … I know that name.”

Turned out, he’d been in boarding school with my grandfather.

I had a bit more pull as a kid than I should have, knowing that the gate on the backside wasn’t actually locked. One time, I was stopped by workers at the ski area, who asked what the hell I thought I was doing. “Well, Rhoda said …”

“Oh, if Rhoda said that, go all the way to the top!”

Leading to a flat tire at the top of Lift 7. Turns out Civics aren’t exactly meant for lift-maintenance roads. Who knew?

Upper Powderhorn remains the purview of a bar in Scottsdale, Ariz. It was an absurd name to take on, so I gave it to them. I didn’t expect the full-on Powderhorn sign to be in my wheelhouse. And yet … Taos is something of a weird place.

I went to the creamery in Arroyo Seco. Upon hitting the counter, the woman – absent any sort of context – explained with regret that they had no Oreo Malt. I’d not been in four years. I didn’t ask; she simply offered the data. Why the hell one might remember a 14-year-old several years later is an exercise left to the reader.

When I moved there to take on the special-sections editor role, I’d no idea that I was known. I drove to Rhoda’s house one afternoon, just outside of Seco. “Bullshit you came here for a random job,” she said.

I’d not. I can of course wax endlessly about what happened with Ernie and how we started out there … but this is not germane to the story. I was excluded from the requirement that kids at the Kinderkaefig be potty trained. Ernie told staff that “You will take him.”

Now, one might notice that this is not normal. My first memory is of Moonlight Sonata at the A-frame Kinderkaefig, with accompanying soup. Ernie was Bernie.

Working for The Taos News was a bit weird. I was about two decades out from hoping to end up there. It … wasn’t great. I didn’t have a great time there. I was pulled out of watching Obama’s first inauguration to talk with Realtors. And, well, my job came into specific relief. I was not to commit journalism, but rather to please advertisers. Let’s just say that didn’t sit well.

If you want to experience racism as a straight white male, might I suggest Taos? Not being Hispanic wasn’t useful. This aside, it was the sort of thing where one doesn’t realise what’s going on.