personal stories FROM CHILDHOOD

Even the passing of the years and the dimming of memory has not faded these early memories of mine. A simple recitation of a few of these memories reveals a rich life centered in family experience and strong in folklore heritage.

I grew up in New Mexico: Taos, Santa Fe, and Albuquerque along the Rio Grande Valley: Wagon Mound and Springer at the edge of the eastern Plains. My childhood included family gatherings at my Albuquerque home and the Martínez farmhouse outside Springer, where the adults would talk late into the night telling stories, with the children gathered at the periphery of the adult circle, intently listening to the exciting conversations filled with stories and tall tales. These are some of my fondest memories from my childhood.

My earliest memory is of going to a pond with my grandpa Martínez at his farm outside Springer, New Mexico. As I remember it, it was a hot, dusty day and the walk seemed forever for my little legs.

When we arrived at the pond we sat down and spent a few minutes talking. Flies buzzed around us. Dust and heat covered us. Suddenly, a snake appeared, long, thin and green, with yellowish markings. The snake’s red tongue flickered in and out in a menacing rhythm. Without a word my grandfather reached out and grabbed the snake and held it close to my face. I remember he then told me a story about a snake, a man, and an amazing power. It would be years later when I rediscovered this story and found it contained in my own memory of a day at the pond with my grandpa Martínez, and the first cuento I ever heard.

I can see my parents, aunts and uncles sitting around a large round kitchen table at my grandfather’s house, sharing a pot of posole with red chile, telling cuentos, laughing and reminiscing about the good old days, their own childhood.

One of my earliest memories is of a family matanza. The matanza is a deep cultural tradition of the slaughtering of pigs to provide food for a family. In this photo my father and I and an older cousin were at the Martinez farm in Springer, New Mexico, while my grandfather and two uncles were involved in the task of the matanza.