There are people in my life who I work with on an almost daily basis yet I've never met. I talk to them on the phone or over e-mail but I've never met them in person. I have no idea what they look like, what their hobbies are, how they dress. And I probably never will. That's life nowadays.

• COUNTY:  Otero
• LOCATION:  10 miles south of Mayhill
• NAME ORIGIN:  Named for William Weed, an early merchant here
• POST OFFICE: 1885-present

    I first "met" the town of Weed in High School. That is, I first heard the name then. A new teacher in our school had just transferred from Weed High School. We thought the name was funny (it meant something else then), but that was the extent of our interest in the whole affair. Yet Weed never went away for me. I kept thinking about it, wondering what it was like. Was it a big place? Rustic or modern? Old homes or new? Whenever I thought I'd forgotten Weed, I'd remember it again.  It kept coming up, just like a...well, you know.

    So I was glad to finally meet this town. Somehow, in all the time Weed had stuck in my head, I hadn't formed an impression of it. Now I have a face to put with the name. Weed is a great place -- a community built along a rolling hillside. There's a cafe, a post office, a church or two, some horses, some people, and, of course, a high school. I don't know what else you could ask for.

    The Weed cemetery is on a hillside just behind the school. Yet, somehow, that isn't macabre. They might as well keep each other company. It's almost like the town of Weed is one big happy family, past and present residents looking after each other. Thorton Wilder must have had Weed in mind when he wrote "Our Town."

    It was a pleasant meeting, and worth the wait. There's just one thing I don't understand. Why on earth did the teacher leave?