Voces de Santa Fé - Maria Montez-Skolnik

Monday, 21 December 2015 18:51

Emma Jaramillo Montez (December 21, 1919-December 6, 2006)

Emma Jaramillo Móntez (December 21, 1919-December 6, 2006)

CHASING FIREFLIES

I remember the loving spirit of my mother Emma Jaramillo Móntez, who would be ninty-six years old today. Born in a farmhouse in Chimayó, NM in the early part of the last century, as a child she studied by kerosene light, helped her brothers gather water from the acequia, learned to cook on a wood burning stove, made ristras and wove blankets, as her family had many generations before her.....and laughed as she chased fireflies at night with a child's delight, under the magnificent New Mexico sky.

Her early life taught her to trabajár con gústo/work with joy and care.

In our home mom always had a pot of something cooking on the stove--posole, frijoles, chíle, or caldo--in case someone unexpected dropped by. The house always smelled of her thoughtfulness. She religiously baked bread and made tortillas or sopapillas, so there was always something created by her to scoop up the chíle or on which to spread the peanut butter and homemade jelly. And she made the best bizcochitos, empanaditas, pastelitos and sopa....ever! She was often asked to bake for family or friends' weddings or special events....and she did so con gústo!

Mom starched my petticoats just right and made many of my school clothes. Jumpers. Ruffled blouses. And fiesta dresses, my favorite being the one I wore when I performed with other little girls on the Santa Fe plaza bandstand. She took me to Dendahl's fabric store to pick out my favorite colors of fabric and ric-rac. She held me close while guiding me in starting the first few stitches by hand, so I could feel part of this grand fashion design! And we giggled when I tried it on for the first time, eager for me to make my first twirl across our stage, the living room floor of our little adobe casita on Montez Street.

Not too long ago, she and I were sitting on the sofa marveling at all my dad's santos, art and carvings, which surround the room not unlike a nórte New Mexico gallery or capílla. Mom had started to lose some of her memory, even confusing the names of her beloved brothers long gone, or how long it had been since she had seen her grandsons, whom she loved so deeply. I guided the conversation asking her about the earlier years. I was patient as she reminisced and sorted out the details. We were comfortable sharing our feelings as we had done our whole lives. She gazed around the room and I waited for her thoughts to be processed and expressed. She said, "Someday, when your dad is gone, you will have all of this to remember him. I don't have anything to leave for you to remember me." I said, "But, mom, we ate all of your art because it was so delicious! And we wore your art until we outgrew them all! How can we ever forget that?"

Like my dad's art, it is not really the end product that leaves the memory, but rather the loving spirit of what was their life story, left behind in many forms. With my dad, I have his beautiful creations and of course so much more. With my mom, I have the tools of her art--her old sewing machine, favorite rolling pin and cookie cutters, her handmade embroidered apron, and so much more. The end products long gone. Devoured. Worn out. But memories of her remain of a life fully lived. Remember? “Mom, how can we not!”

No one ever made me laugh more or laugh harder than my mom, even towards the end when her memories became fuzzy. We had a cherished bond and a language only we understood. Usually others left us alone as we shared stories at the kitchen table, often while peeling potatoes or sorting frijoles. She was my very best friend my whole life and I am grateful for all the special moments we shared and the many gifts she created and left behind which I still see. I still feel.

I come home every spring to take care of the garden she nurtured with that attention she gave to everything else in her life. And, as she did for those she loved, I stay until "the snow is on the roses and the bluebird's flown away....."

If you ever visit the Rancho de Chimayo and notice the majestic catalpa tree near the entrance, think of my mom, for it is there she chased fireflies at night and began her life’s journey with memorable purpose.

Published in Biographies/People

Tagged under

Be the first to comment!

Wednesday, 22 July 2015 14:45

Victor Archuleta: "Dual Citizenship"--Growing Up In Two Worlds

On June 6th, 2015 I was asked to give a short talk to the Voces de Santa Fe group at the Rancho de Chimayo regarding my experience growing up in both Los Alamos and Chimayo… below is a version of the story I shared.

Dual Citizenship…

I was born a poor brown boy… that was my story anyway. Like most folks, I have my version of “not fitting in”. You know, that box that gives your existence meaning and a feeling of belonging. What is curious is that by growing up in both Los Alamos (“the Atomic City”) and in Chimayo (what I think of as the “land that time forgot”), I was gifted the opportunity to create my own box to fit into.

Los Alamos was created in the 1940’s to develop a weapon of mass destruction – to end a war; while Chimayo was created around 1740 as Spain was colonizing the New World. Ranked at #1, Los Alamos County per capita income in 2011 was $60,719; in contrast, Rio Arriba County came in at #28 with $28,888. This meant that the lifestyles of my childhood communities were very different.

As a first generation Los Alamosan, I would grow up learning English, and as an 8th generation Chimayoso, I would understand Spanish well enough to know what my parents were bickering about and to explain to my first grade teacher what a “nina” was… as in madrina or godmother.

Los Alamos was less than 20 years old when I was born on the second floor of the utilitarian, ‘50’s Government-style architecture of LAMC. Within days, I was whisked away to the more than 200 year old, verdant Spanish settlement of Chimayo. My parents worked in Los Alamos, so, like other families from the valley, they enrolled my siblings and me in school there as well.

With a daily commute between the two towns I developed a regular rhythm, navigating the Yin and the Yang. Veredas, acequias, arroyos, milpas and huertas vs. streetlights, sidewalks, gutters, overpasses and crosswalks. All I knew growing up was that between these two radically different worlds, I felt different than my friends on “the Hill” and different from my cousins in “the Valley” – not quite fitting in to either one and kind of faking it in both… “I’m smart and witty too! Let me show you!” – “I’m tough and macho too! Let me show you!”

…Which one was my community, my lifestyle?

It was all a lot to consider for a little boy who with his button-down gingham short-sleeved shirt, pressed blue-jeans and one silver-filled incisor, tried to blend in to the sea of blond-haired, blue-eyed “peers”. I had two very different audiences to manage and had so many questions without clear answers. I mean really, from David Hackenberry to tia Mercedes, Zora Slade to primo Jose Inez, Starr Caswell to grandma Francisquita. You get the picture… motas de leche (natillas) to shrimp curry, panocha to chicken-fried steak, chaquegue to fruit-loops! …and the list goes on. I lived in a magical world where each had no idea of how the other lived. (note: the only Mercedes’ in Los Alamos had hood ornaments; and it wasn’t until freshman year at college that I learned that if someone’s last name was Goldberg that they were Jewish.)

In one world, academics was the oracle at which we worshiped; in the other, a hole in the ground with “holy dirt” is where we knelt. Cutting edge science vs. the centuries old sacred traditions of ritual and deep faith. Fully equipped modern medical center vs. a battered bread-box with herbs, oils, pastes and potions. Polio shots vs. a forehead covered with potato slices soaked in vinegar for a fever. One holy catholic and apostolic church for the 2,000 descendants of the Spanish Conquistadors vs. a minimum of 12 different houses of worship in a town of 10,000 residents of mid-western, New England and European descent. In one world they were splitting atoms! And in the other they were splitting pinon! I mean really… could two towns be any more different?

It was easy to feel like one lifestyle was better than the other. And again, I didn’t know which one was mine…

With 45 first cousins, family was front and center. I remember being shocked hearing from one of my classmates that one of their grandparents had passed away – the day before – and their parents were traveling back East for the “wake”. But! …they didn’t go with them! While in Chimayo, a death in the family meant a rosary (or two!), a funeral and interment attended by hundreds of extended family members; and we did not go back to school until the day after the funeral. Who were these heartless peers?

We didn’t have a lot of money, but I remember we had milk, eggs, meat and dry cleaning trucks stop by regularly to deliver these goods/services to our door-step. Also, I remember my mother making sure that we used store-bought shampoo on our heads, not hand soap like some of my cousins; I guess they couldn’t afford shampoo so they used the home-made lye-based soap on their hair, making it dull and heavy. We’d visit relatives with no indoor plumbing and packed-dirt floors. Overnight stays on mattresses and pillows made of striped cloth stuffed with wool. Why didn’t they just go to SEARS or JCPenny to buy these things like we did? Were we rich?

On the Hill, where financial wealth was front and center, it was again a very different story. My classmates got “allowances” for doing nothing! My siblings and cousins did chores and got nothing! At some point, I was invited to go over to my friend’s house in Barranca Mesa after school… As we entered his home, he asked, “want to see MY room?”. I didn’t understand the question – your own room! You don’t share with your brothers and sisters!? My four siblings and I slept in the same room in a combination of a double-bed, cot and sleeping bag on a colchon… then he asked, “want to watch MY television or listen to MY stereo?” (stereos that were likely MADE by their fathers! Heath Kits I believe they were called.) And the phone! The Kid’s Line! I had never imagined any of this. It was actually very difficult to make any sense out of it all. Don’t TVs belong in the living room for crying out loud!? Were we poor?

In the Valley, I would “assitir el marano” in the morning and then commute up to the Hill for school and in my “everyday living” class learn how to sew an apron and bake “refrigerator cookies”. I played tenor sax in the concert, stage and marching bands during the week and was an altar boy on Sundays. I’d have swimming class in the high school indoor pool and then sleep at my tia Mercedes’ and pee in an empty coffee can in the back porch at night (I didn’t pee in the pool though – ewww.) Summer weekends would be spent hoeing the huerta and arrimando tierra en la milpa; while my friends went to the YMCA or to their private neighborhood pool to play or work as a lifeguard.

In one world, I felt not worthy, in the other I was accused of being “too good”. In Los Alamos there was mostly covert discrimination against the Valley folks and in Chimayo, it was easy to feel that we were outcasts – deserters of our tribe. In the junior high locker room a “gringo” refered to someone as a “spic”, noticed I was there and apologized. I said it was “OK” – I didn’t even know what it meant! I was terrified that it might mean “fag” – I knew what that meant. It really would not have been at all surprising to have developed some version of multiple-personality disorder. …“And the people, and the people, and the people!” Am I Victor or Victór!

…Who am I?

Recently, over dinner with a new friend, I was discussing the strange dichotomy in which I was created, mentioning that I had found it impossible to find a box to fit-in anywhere. He said that he had a similar upbringing growing up as a Native American and that he finally landed in cherishing the gift of being able to create a new unique box in which we can fit in everywhere! That is really what has happened all along. Instead of feeling left out or ignored, I have had the luxury of learning the gift of empathy for all kinds of people with many ways of living. There is no better or worse lifestyle. They’re just different. We’re either compassionate or we’re not.

I listen for the thread from which I can connect. A “background of relatedness” I’ve heard it called. The richness that is my life was created by the struggle in the search for myself. I am my rich community, my heritage, my classmates, my neighbors, my education, my faith, my tradition, my ancestors. And of course, none of it is mine; it’s ours. And we’re all the better for it.

I live each day in deep gratitude for my experiences and the deep connections I feel for my friends, family, community and physical and spiritual worlds I call The Hill and The Valley.

Published in Surrounding Communities (Towns and Pueblos)

Tagged under

8 comments

Friday, 22 May 2015 07:03

La Tertulia's Sangria Recipe from the Family of Willie and June Ortiz

Voces de Santa Fé extends sincere appreciation to the Ortiz Family for sharing with us their long-guarded Sangria recipe.

La Tertulia was for many, many years one of Santa Fé's most popular restaurants. Here is a brief history provided by Joy Ortiz-Zimmer, member of Voces de Santa Fé, and daughter of Willie and June Ortiz:

June and Willie Ortiz met the middle of May in 1947. June had come from Nashville, Tennessee to work the telephone lines for the Bell Telephone system because there was a strike. She met an FBI agent and he asked her to go on a date which she agreed to do. Willie would be the extra on the date as they traveled to Albuquerque. Six weeks later they were married. June always told the story that her wedding was more like a wake because she wasn’t Hispanic and the Ortiz family was very somber about this new person coming into the family. Cultural expectations!!

June and Willie moved to Los Alamos and their daughter, Joy, was born in 1948. They moved back to Santa Fe in 1953 and continued commuting to Los Alamos for work. Willie continued to work in Los Alamos until 1972. June however stopped working in Los Alamos in 1954 and began a secretarial job at St. Michael’s College which later became the College of Santa Fe. Joy married in 1970 and had three children that were the apples of their grandparents eyes. Kevin, Dawn and Christopher Nashan.

In the early 1970’s June and Willie Ortiz faced what most people in their mid-life; what do we want to do with the rest of our lives. They chose to open a restaurant called La Tertulia at 416 Agua Fria. June named it La Tertulia because in Spanish that means the meeting place and she wanted the restaurant to be a fine dining Native New Mexican restaurant where locals could dine with their families. Lace tablecloths and red napkins would adorn the tables and the wait staff would wear tuxedo shirts that gave the patrons a feeling of dining in a lovely hacienda. The restaurant wasn’t what they originally thought they would do as a business they wanted to showcase local artisans and their crafts. Their vision was a little too soon and they had difficulty getting the artisans to produce. They kept the Mercado open in the old Guadalupe elementary school building but it struggled and eventually closed.

The restaurant on the other hand was a huge success for locals and tourists alike. Willie managed the kitchen and June was the greeter and tax master in the dining room. Famous people and non-famous were all treated the same. Two wonderful Santa Feans brought a business to the community that all would cherish and love and savor the memories of days gone by. In 1990 June died and the restaurant struggled until it closed in 2000.

June and Willie’s grandchildren have stayed in the food service field and are very successful in their respective positions. Kevin is an acclaimed chef and owns a restaurant in St. Louis, MO called Sidney Street Café. He has been nominated for the James Beard award multiple times and his restaurant has achieved the Best of St. Louis award for restaurants. Kevin is married to Mina Nashan and has two boys, Max and Miles. Dawn is the General Manager of the Washington State Convention Center and is the mother of a daughter and son, Gabriella and Gregory. Dawn’s manages 540 people on a daily basis and took her center to a “Green Facility”. Dawn is married to Darwin Wheeler. Christopher is Kevin’s General Manager of his restaurant and is single.

Information provided by daughter, Joy Ortiz-Zimmer

Voces de Santa Fe is honored to tell the story of two beloved Santa Feans, Willie and June Ortiz.

Published in The Arts, Food, and Culture

Tagged under

Be the first to comment!

Friday, 27 December 2013 19:10

Our Tia Mercedes Trujillo of Centinela/Chimayo

Mercedes Trujillo of Centinela near Chimayo was affectionately known as Tia Mercedes to those near and dear to her. She was the sister to Jacobo Trujillo, master weaver and father of Centinela/Chimayo Historian Patricia Trujillo Oviedo and award-winning master weaver Irvin Trujillo of Centinela Traditional Arts, as well as a grand-Tia to LA IT Director, who created the beautiful Santuario photo we used as a Voces Christmas card, Victor Archuleta, all Voces members here.

Mercedes' mother and my great-grandmother, Epimenia Ortega Jaramillo, were sisters. Adored by the family, Mercedes was known to many of us as "Tia". My mother was very close to her her whole life. As a child, I would love to sit and just hear the two of them converse in Spanish. I appreciated the preciousness of those special moments as they discussed their lives growing up in Chimayo--la gente de antes, como concinar la comida, y caminando de carro a Santa Fe*, all special memories to the two of them. I also enjoyed that, since she was many years older than my mom, it made my mom feel like the child in their shared memories long ago. We visited her often in later years as my two sons were growing. They had a gifted opportunity, in the long journey that was her life, to know her well--a life in that area of Norte New Mexico which is rapidly becoming extinct. They will forever hold dear those memories spent with Tia.

She never married and lived in the same house she was born and raised in all her life--a thick adobe farm house in Centinela, next to Chimayo, with a large property of apple orchards and fields of chile and corn she labored over. Tia Mercedes is the story of that area and of that era.

(In these two photos she is working near her family home as she did her entire life.)

In later years, Tia primarily used a few rooms of the big farm house. You entered through her large kitchen, the room where people gathered to socialize in days gone by. She always had a large pot of food cooking on the stove ready for the many visitors who stopped by to visit with her. In later years, her bedroom, which also served as her "parlor," with bed covered with homemade colchas and small sofa and chairs, was where we sat and conversed only in Spanish, her primary language. Those who visited her were close friends and family, some living nearby and others who had moved to far regions of the country, all wanting to just be in her presence--our humble yet powerful Tia, representing the journey and the story of our heritage.

Always neatly dressed in her long dress and apron, hair nicely twisted, Tia always wore her silver earrings, bracelets, and necklaces, ready to greet her visitors. On her bedroom walls, she displayed dozens of framed family photos, including the annual family Christmas photo I would send her each year. I once asked her how she arranged her wall with those photos. There seemed to be some logical order. She replied with a smile, "Bueno, aqui en esta pader, estan todos lo que todavia estan vivos; y en la otra pader, los que estan muertos." ("Well, here on this wall, are all who are still alive; and on the other wall, those who are deceased.") Later, I would tease her upon visiting telling her I had come by to make sure my photo was on the right wall.

We visited her often, a must for us, during long summer and Christmas visits from California, where my two sons, Ben and Zachary, were growing up. Now both living in NYC, amongst their most cherished childhood memories are visiting Tia Mercedes, visiting in her bedroom/parlor and transfixed in listening to her speak in Spanish de la gente de antes, como concinar la comida, y caminando de carro a Santa Fe*, undying memories, woven into the tapestry of who she was. At the end of our visit, they knelt before her one at a time, as she made the Sign of the Cross y en espanol gave them the bendicion, blessing them with good health and safe travels through life. It has worked.

Tia passed a few years ago just short of her 100th birthday. She would be humbled to know how adored she still is and, for those of her who got to know her intimately, that she will remain one of the most powerful relationships of our lives. Bless you, Tia. We miss you. We need you. But we know you are taking care of us from above.

Con amor,

Tu familia

*the people now gone, how to cook our food, and traveling by car to Santa Fe

Published in Biographies/People

Tagged under

2 comments

Saturday, 30 November 2013 02:30

De Vargas Road, Santa Fe, New Mexico, 1948 and 2013

Once and Again

1948 photograph by Harold D. Walter, Palace of the Governors photo archives, #154268

and

2013 photograph by Victoria Rodriguez, Voces de Santa Fe

Published in Santa Fe

Tagged under

Be the first to comment!

Friday, 15 November 2013 16:31

Willie and June Ortiz, La Tertulia Restaurant

June and Willie Ortiz met the middle of May in 1947. June had come from Nashville, Tennessee to work the telephone lines for the Bell Telephone system because there was a strike. She met an FBI agent and he asked her to go on a date which she agreed to do. Willie would be the extra on the date as they traveled to Albuquerque. Six weeks later they were married. June always told the story that her wedding was more like a wake because she wasn’t Hispanic and the Ortiz family was very somber about this new person coming into the family. Cultural expectations!!

June and Willie moved to Los Alamos and their daughter, Joy, was born in 1948. They moved back to Santa Fe in 1953 and continued commuting to Los Alamos for work. Willie continued to work in Los Alamos until 1972. June however stopped working in Los Alamos in 1954 and began a secretarial job at St. Michael’s College which later became the College of Santa Fe. Joy married in 1970 and had three children that were the apples of their grandparents eyes. Kevin, Dawn and Christopher Nashan.

In the early 1970’s June and Willie Ortiz faced what most people in their mid-life; what do we want to do with the rest of our lives. They chose to open a restaurant called La Tertulia at 416 Agua Fria. June named it La Tertulia because in Spanish that means the meeting place and she wanted the restaurant to be a fine dining Native New Mexican restaurant where locals could dine with their families. Lace tablecloths and red napkins would adorn the tables and the wait staff would wear tuxedo shirts that gave the patrons a feeling of dining in a lovely hacienda. The restaurant wasn’t what they originally thought they would do as a business they wanted to showcase local artisans and their crafts. Their vision was a little too soon and they had difficulty getting the artisans to produce. They kept the Mercado open in the old Guadalupe elementary school building but it struggled and eventually closed.

The restaurant on the other hand was a huge success for locals and tourists alike. Willie managed the kitchen and June was the greeter and tax master in the dining room. Famous people and non-famous were all treated the same. Two wonderful Santa Feans brought a business to the community that all would cherish and love and savor the memories of days gone by. In 1990 June died and the restaurant struggled until it closed in 2000.

June and Willie’s grandchildren have stayed in the food service field and are very successful in their respective positions. Kevin is an acclaimed chef and owns a restaurant in St. Louis, MO called Sidney Street Café. He has been nominated for the James Beard award multiple times and his restaurant has achieved the Best of St. Louis award for restaurants. Kevin is married to Mina Nashan and has two boys, Max and Miles. Dawn is the General Manager of the Washington State Convention Center and is the mother of a daughter and son, Gabriella and Gregory. Dawn’s manages 540 people on a daily basis and took her center to a “Green Facility”. Dawn is married to Darwin Wheeler. Christopher is Kevin’s General Manager of his restaurant and is single.

Information provided by daughter, Joy Ortiz-Zimmer

Voces de Santa Fe is honored to tell the story of two beloved Santa Feans, Willie and June Ortiz.

To comment and post, please easily register on this website.

Thank you from the Voces community: Telling our history in our own voices.

Published in The Arts, Food, and Culture

Tagged under

1 comment

Tuesday, 12 November 2013 00:24

George Alarid, Vietnam Veteran

George, served from 1967-1970, including in Vietnam from 1968-69.

Voces de Santa Fe thanks you for your sacrifice.

Please Register to post and comment.

Published in Biographies/People

Tagged under

Be the first to comment!

Tuesday, 12 November 2013 00:03

Robert Lee "Buddy" Brashears

Voces de Santa Fe honors your memory.

ACTIVITY DURING WWII
SERVED IN THE SOUTH PACIFIC 12/28/43 TO 12/22/45. SERVED ON USS YMS-431. AWARDED THE ASIATIC-PACIFIC CAMPAIGN MEDAL WITH 1 STAR, AMERICAN CAMPAIGN MEDAL AND WWII VICTORY MEDAL.

A YMS (YARD MINE SWEEPER) PROVED TO BE ONE OF THE U.S. NAVY'S MORE DURABLE & VERSATILE TYPES. THEY WERE USED DURING WWII FOR INSHORE SWEEPING (FOR MINES) TO PREPARE THE WAY FOR AMPHIBIOUS ASSAULT. A FEW LOCATIONS FOR THE USS YMS-431 WERE HAWAII, OKINAWA, HIRO WAN, HIROSHIMA AND KURE HARBOR.
Please register to post and comment.

Published in Biographies/People

Tagged under

Be the first to comment!

Monday, 11 November 2013 17:02

Staff Sergeant Vicente Martinez

"Vicente proudly served his country in WWII as a United States Army Air Corps staff sergeant and ball turret gunner aboard a B-17 Flying Fortress. He flew in 20 bombing missions before being shot down over Hungary and captured by enemy forces. Vicente was held as Prisoner of War at Stalag Luft IV. During Vicente's last three months as a POW, he and thousands of other American prisoners were forced to leave camp and set out on what would become known as the Black March, a 500 mile journey westward across northern Poland and Germany, as their German captors retreated from the advancing Soviet army. This was a time of extreme hardship and hundreds of men died on this march due to disease, exposure, malnutrition and mistreatment." Son David Martinez

Voces de Santa Fe honors the memory of Vicente Martinez. Rest in peace.

Please register to comment and post.

Thank you from the Voces Community

Published in Biographies/People

Tagged under

1 comment

Monday, 11 November 2013 16:29

Hilliard Crown, WWII Air Force Navigator

"My dad Hilliard in his RCAF uniform. He was a navigator in a Lancaster bomber in WWII flying missions over Germany. He also trained pilots from a base in England." Daughter Rebekah Crown

Nav view search

Navigation

Search

Maria Montez-Skolnik

Emma Jaramillo Montez (December 21, 1919-December 6, 2006)

Victor Archuleta: "Dual Citizenship"--Growing Up In Two Worlds

La Tertulia's Sangria Recipe from the Family of Willie and June Ortiz

Our Tia Mercedes Trujillo of Centinela/Chimayo

De Vargas Road, Santa Fe, New Mexico, 1948 and 2013

Willie and June Ortiz, La Tertulia Restaurant

George Alarid, Vietnam Veteran

Robert Lee "Buddy" Brashears

Staff Sergeant Vicente Martinez

Hilliard Crown, WWII Air Force Navigator

Additional information

"The Adobe Palace," Erected 1650.

Irvin Trujillo