Old Stuff—The annual Santa Fe Winter Antiquities Show is a holiday tradition 'round these parts. This year it's moving to El Museo Cultural (1615 Paseo de Peralta, in the railyard). As always, expect a wide range of the finest antiques from Asia, Europe, Africa and the Americas—from books to paintings to jewelry to furniture. A gala preview on Wednesday, Dec. 28, from 6 to 9 p.m. will benefit Kitchen Angels, a charity providing home-meals to homebound members of the Santa Fe community. The gala is $50 per person, which includes cocktails and canapés along with entrance to the show for the remainder of the weekend. The actual event runs from Thursday, Dec. 29, through Saturday, Dec. 31. Admission is $10 per person, with three-day passes available for $15. Kids under 17 are free. For details, go to www.antiquities-shows.com.
It's often said that Albuquerque is a giant small town—and there's something to that statement. Yes, we've got a population of over half a million people, but the number of folks who actually venture into public on a regular basis seems fairly small. Most of us spend much of our time stuck in our cars, our offices, our living rooms.
Whether you've been naughty or nice, the Pajama Men will give you a little somethin' for Christmas. A Dirty Thursday improv show! Will they break out some red and green, reindeer-print jammies? Will Santa ride in on a drunken hippopotamus? Are aliens secretly hoarding all the mistletoe in Kansas? Anything is possible with these boys when the scripts are nonexistent and their wits are put to the test. The merriment starts at 8 p.m. on Thursday, Dec. 22, at the Tricklock Performance Space (118 Washington SE). Tickets are $10, and can be purchased at the door or by calling 254-8393.
Christmas is for cranks. After all, nothing inspires a grouch's despair quite like the period between Thanksgiving and New Year, when enforced good cheer—and a pelting of holiday catalogues—sends a good many reaching for the Scotch, or their therapists' phone numbers.
Frank McCourt might be smiling these days, but the darkness within keeps leaking out. After publishing two best-selling memoirs about growing up poor in Ireland and moving to America, McCourt has just issued a third, Teacher Man, which chronicles the three decades he spent as an instructor in New York City schools. I recently had an opportunity to discuss with the 75-year-old Pulitzer Prize winner why teaching—not writing—was his salvation.