TEN CENTS A SHINE ON ROUTE 66

The following story is an excerpt from my soon-to-be-published "Time of Triumph" book. This is part of my history and illustrates why I became a writer and what compels me to tell my stories and express my passion through poetry... explore http://www.taosplazaart.com/ for more info on my writing.

TEN CENTS A SHINE ON ROUTE 66
(by Ron Chavez, Taos Poet and Route 66 Storyteller)

When I was eleven years old I shined shoes, barefoot, on my knees, slaving over a wooden shoeshine box in front of the Club Café on old Route 66. In between shining shoes, I hawked newspapers and hustled suckers into the crooked poker game behind the barber shop three doors down, for a nice tip. And I fought like hell with a swarm of kids over territorial street rights.

As I grew up, I got on as a busboy inside the café. Then I became the dishwasher and eventually a baker and a cook. After an eighteen year sojourn in California, I returned to own it.

In the 1980s, two things happened. I began to write short stories that were published in the weekly paper I used to sell on the street as a kid, and Route 66 closed down as an official highway but exploded as nostalgic American history. The Club Café and I went for an incredible ride to fame and fun.

I told a thousand stories on Good Morning America, PBS, American Playhouse, Eye on L.A, National Public Radio and countless other television programs. The book Route 66, The Mother Road profiled my story along with Searching for 66 and the Route 66 Cookbook. Major newspapers and magazines also carried my stories of Route 66. It got a little crazy. Then it all crashed. The Golden Arches came into town and busted me and I landed back on the street of my youth.

But I still had my writing. Even though I was financially broke, the crash had not broken my spirit. I was determined to rise like a Phoenix from the ashes, so I kept on writing and publishing.

It was a long struggle to find my way back to sanity. I landed up in the mountains above Taos as a camp host and worked a stint at Wild Rivers at the edge of the Rio Grande Gorge as a volunteer caretaker. I was slowly cleansed of all my emotional trouble.

It was then that I began to write poetry born out of the anguish of defeat and the depths of personal pain. To my astonishment, my poems were published. I still remember the pride I felt when I was first introduced as “The Poet” by a stranger.

Today I proudly wear the titles of Taos Poet and Route 66 Storyteller. I suffered much and worked hard for them and no one can take that from me. And, if my poems and stories are worthy, then it was worth it. # # #