Nmac; Old Folks at Home

The following program is part of a KU&M project series funded in part by a grant from the Senate Mexico Arts Commission and the National Endowment for the Arts. I met a woman, an old woman who seemed ageless. She had left behind the extraneous niceties like her thick dark hair and even teeth. Her skin did not seem so much wrinkled as it did well used. Although her eyes were soft and watery, they could see far into the past as well as discern the future.

When she spoke to me, her voice was so quiet, just barely above a whisper. But I listened to every word she said and finally began to understand. Sometimes, my life seems rather lacking in perspective. Actions that seem right at the moment later seem questionable. Irritations that feel entirely justifiable seem pointless with later introspection. It's almost as if our inability to see into the future necessitates a certain amount of day-to-day grief. Think how much pain we could spare ourselves if we knew, for example, that the man or woman to whom we now cling so tightly would ultimately prove to be of minor importance in our lives.

For most of us, our mid-20s and 30s are spent groping more selectively toward unknown futures. We're still in the process of building our lives. The bulk of our dreams and fantasies are still intact, hoping water-mitty fashion to be realized. In contrast, to have lived 70, 80 or 90 years, is to have seen sons buried from war or drink or automobile catastrophe. To have children whose lives were yours become strangers. To have survived into old age means to have experienced the wars, epidemics and depressions of this nation. To have grandchildren who can only listen incredulously at your stories. To have lived into old age means to have survived the struggles, transcended the dreams and come to accept the eventuality of death. They've always been drawn to the old people. They are mysterious, quaint, sweetly andachronistic. They have come to store memories and feelings like photographs on dark pages. They cling to the old faces, the old thoughts, the old ways for their security.

The old people are remarkable storytellers, savoring the words, remembering the inflections. They seem to remember the long ago past with clarity, while the recent past is more blurred. They are selective in what they share with those of us who are young, maybe they fear rejection or ridicule, or maybe they just want to keep what is theirs to themselves. Between an old man and an old woman who have spent their lives together, there is a kind of communication without words. They know each other so intimately that one need only to think it for the other to respond. The statistical abstract of 1976 estimates that there are 21,815,000 men and women over age 65 living in the United States. Life being the way it is, most of us can probably expect to grow old someday.

During this program, we live the experiences of those whom we might become, and in the process we'll learn something of what it was like to come of age in New Mexico. While the rest of the world developed electricity and horseless carriages, the fought colonial wars, the Mexicans on the wrenches and in the cities lived out their own personal dramas. We'll hear some amazing stories from those via ethos in what we call the old folks at home and intimate history of New Mexico. When all the us pano, m colonization, lions, bOk revolution. In the early part of the century, many New Mexicans, especially those of Hispanic ancestry,

were living on ranches. These ranches were self-sufficient entities that produced most of the family's food and raised sheep or cattle for trade. It was common for the young men to bring their brides back to the family ranch where generations had been and would continue to be born and die. The sex roles were rigid. The men were responsible for the maintenance of the ranch, guarding against marauding bands of coyotes and rustlers. The women cared for the children, the small animals, and the men. Very rarely would there be a woman alone in charge of a ranch. Among those men and women who have roots in the rural areas of the state, there's a strong awareness of the land and its influences. The land is a reference point, a source of both pride and anguish. It was through their ranches that many people maintained their dignity. For example, often the men told us with pride that their fathers had never worked for anyone other than themselves.

Regardless of the size of the ranch, once land and once family were intertwined, thus men fought and died for the honor of their land. Jose Garcia, who was now in his 80s, further illustrates the intermingling of the family and work on the ranch. How was the first child born out of the family? My brother was born in Taos. How could you be the first child born then? Born with the ranch, yeah? The ranch. See, my brother was 40 years older than me. He's been dead since when I first had to post over. About 40 years. About 40 years old. He was in the soup and the sea and we had a dip in that, all the different people on the surrounding territory, the dip door to a 100,000 head of sheep, the steppin that. And we can drive two cents ahead for all the sheep that are refreshed. What was the purpose of the dipping that?

Well, the sheep had a scab, you see, it's just a small tick and they would lose rates and it was a rule and they'd finally die if it wasn't taken care of. That's why these inspectors, government inspectors come around there and they would cause these people to dip once a year. And if they had scab, in the meantime, they'd have to dip within 30 days, so when the inspector found them, that is a lot of the law. How many sheep did you have at that time yourself? When do you mean when the father's killed? Yes. Oh, we shared over 10,000 head. We must have had about 15,000 head of sheep. Oh my gosh. Was that one of the larger sheep branches in? Oh, well that is a small comparison. We had sheep branches there that five times larger than ours, which is one of the lightest Spanish people that sent the business to see, could Chris Otto and Slater's, or they

had all the big sheep, those big outfits. But you were telling us about your father and how he was killed. This man claims that my father turned him into the inspectors that he had scab when the inspectors came over there and found out that the worst scab and the sheep caused him to dip your sheep in the middle of December. Well, especially all of them. You can't dip sheep. They're just like having your head and butt, you don't go outside there and catch a cold and getting them on your right away. That's the same thing as the sheep were. Well, what happens when you are, so he just turned my father, and just the first chance I get to see you are, you'll be a dead man, I'm going to kill you. Between 1900 and 1916, the young men began leaving the ranches in larger numbers.

They were lured by the promise of making money. At that time, the railroads, mines, and cattle companies were springing up and flourishing throughout New Mexico. In 1914, there was a mine accident in southern Colorado, in which a tunnel collapsed trapping six people, all of whom were eventually found dead. These kinds of accidents happened with relative regularity. And for the young men leaving the ranches for the first time, these tragic occurrences were often their initiation into the world of the Anglo. In those days, children had a kind of moral obligation to help with the family support. When Teodoro Pacheco was 12 years old, he went to work in the home of Don Fontaine. He had completed two years of school, and his family needed the money, so all the members except the women took outside work. Here in the kitchen of Don Fontaine, who was the boss of the quarry in which his father, his uncles and cousins worked, Teodoro earned eight dollars a month. He eludes to the familial responsibilities and conflicts and outlines the roles and structure

of his family during his childhood. He went to the houses. We take the Any comment 36 minutes?

I'll give you the Betan You have to keep You can't enjoy anything Some will make lunch Now I will show you an how, so, At the same time, his brother, who was also small in stature, but four years older, was working as a water boy. He performed essentially the same duties as Teodoro, but earned $25 a month. Teodoro felt that he too could help his family more if he earned as much money as his brother.

Because it was easier for him as a child to talk to his mother, he begged her to ask his father to allow him to work in the company kitchen. His father doubted his ability, but eventually consented, permitting him to work, but warning Teodoro that he had better not expect to come home crying for sympathy if work was too hard. Finally, Teodoro joined the company of B Landry in Sharp as a dishwasher, only to discover that all the men around him spoke the alien language of English, and he says, I suffered much. This is one of my Mürepresented friends, one of my family's friends, who much more than six of them.

The wrenches gradually became small towns like te colote or Las Vegas or albocareque.

That transition, although a gradual one, created the need for a class of skilled tradespeople. Instead of the wife cutting her husband's hair, there were now barber shops. Instead of communities getting together to build a house, they were now specific individuals to do the job. Because the wrenches and these semi-urban communities were spiritually related, the same hard work ethic prevailed. Even now, some of the same people who built the towns and wrenches still remain stubbornly self-reliant. They may live in the same adobas, their wooden stoves replaced by gas, their kerosene lamps possibly replaced by electric lights. Everywhere in these houses are pictures, their photographs of weddings, photographs of the daring young brothers working on the railroad, and photographs of babies long since grown to adulthood. There are old, yellowed pieces of paper, with excess resignatures that certify a marriage here, a death or baptism bear, or the sale of land.

Then, a high school education was more than most people could expect. In the small towns, education for more than two or three years was rare. The education of young women was even less common. The daughter of an Albuquerque barber and photographer, Carlotta Lucero, had been privileged to attend the convent schools, where she acquired the tools for her entry into the world of work. She vividly remembers the details of her first job and the personalities of her employers. She lives now in a working-class home for the elderly, where the television soap operas and game shows are constant companions. In her story, as is the case with many old people, the telling of the story is an opportunity to relive her youth. When I finished my high school, my dad says, well, you have to stay in high school and be as the number or something. Then, to keep me in prison all the time, I started, I was growing a big smile too.

My dad says, well, what do you want to do now? Where do you want to work? Are you able to work, Dad? I stayed about in the ninth 10th grade in high school. Then, his career, do you think you work? I said, I can find the store on Central Avenue. And he says, well, are you sure? I said, sure, Dad. The first store I work was a Rosenwell brothers department store. The apartment balance is now. So, I started working for, for my clothes. If it's called the Rosenwells, then maybe you know the world, the Rosenwell building. When I came in there, a big tall man was quite here, you know, nice looking man, elderly. Well, what can I do for you, girl? I want a job, I says, it's just what can you do? Well, I can read, I can write, and I told him, and I can, well, I can do other things. Or, what else can you do? He said, well, I can answer the forms. So, it was a big store. They used to sell suits and all kinds of dresses for the ladies and everything.

For the men's, it was a men's department and a woman to buy. Well, I went over there a big fat lady by the name of Ida Mason. Well, he says, she went back to this lady. She wants to know how to operate the switchboard there. Can you, oh, thank God, I'm going to get somebody here. The old lady was tired since she was doing both jobs, sending the packages down to the floor and answering the phone. And it was too bad. She was a fat lady by the name of Ida Mason. I think we have, we think it is. I think we have what we have. Yes, you can, you can go over there and show me the fat telephone. So, I went with this man, you know, I was, I left my high school. My dad said, you have to get a job. You left your high school. Yes, dad, I'll get it. So, this Mr. Pester was a calm, white-haired man. Well, here, Ms. Mason, here's your girl. Well, yes, there's been four or five here, and they can get the switchboard.

Well, try this other one. So, I sat by the man that was teaching me how to operate the clowns, stick the clowns up, and all of that. The second day, I was running the switchboard out of the room. Thank you, Jesus. And, and, and helping her with the bottles, sending them down in the beds, get some of my head back. Oh, girl, I'm so glad that I had you. You're wonderful. I went to my phone here. I was in my brother. I had, at night, I think that said, it was a rubber. And I stayed there on the Auntaille, a long time. I worked, held my dad, my mother, and then I finally, when I grew more big, I married. I married. Albuquerque, in the first quarter of the century, was an exciting place. Coming in from the outlying communities of Bernalillo or Corralis or Belen was a trip of significance.

The men would come into town to sell their goods and look at the latest farm machinery while the women might stock up on supplies or shop for fabric bargains. Sometimes, they might stop into a restaurant, a decided luxury to have a meal of eggs and beans cooked city-style. They used to come in the town in the foggy, you know, with the forest, with the umbrella. And sometimes, we used to fast through the river, you know. And the map was a There were hardly any houses, you know, our work feels, there's nothing like grass and

all that, and we all just took up to the fiestas at Alameda, the way against, you know, that they hit them to see it in our squirrels, sit on the back and hang our feet down. Ooh, what's that fun? Then as now, young men and women met and fell in love. During the courtship, the two behaved with propriety. There would be walks, group socials, and trips to church. There was never any question of should I or shouldn't I? It would go down to church and right in front of the bookstore where we met Joe and this cousin, and I was walking with a girl, see? So they introduced us, and that's the first time I had seen Joe.

I had heard about him that he had been down to the military school, had been there for four years, and so forth. And I wasn't too concerned because there were a lot of other boys that I had met. The next day he stopped by to the house, and he said, I'm coming into town, he said, tomorrow, he says, can I see you? I said, sure. So we weren't walking, yeah, the prettiest way guys, I did fall in love with him. Two people, just meaning, barely touching each other. On the following summer, we had the state fair, and he came to visit us, and from there on, we started going together, when he was this, 19, 16, 19, 17, 17, 15, and we went together, but he went out into school, he was kind of a kind of a, he didn't stay in one

place, he was going in, I had a position at the courthouse, I was tempted to come and include there, and I wasn't in all, he didn't know her, he didn't get married, and I don't suppose he was either. So the war came, and he went on, and he went down to the Mexican border, and he was gone there about two years, I think, I was down there on the border about seven months, about seven months, well, and the war broke up, and then he went away, and he wanted to get married before, he left, and I said, no, I thought it would be best if he waited until he got back, I said, something can happen to you, or I can be left for the trial, and I said, I just feel that I don't want any war responsibility that I have at the

office, and I said, I think, it won't hurt us, you'll come back, and they won't say I'm taking back what we got married, we've been married for seven years, he's been a wonderful father, he was so good when the babies were little, instead of waking me up to see about him, he'd wake and take care of him, and in the morning he'd get up, you know, he had to go to work about six o'clock, and he'd change the baby, and he'd feed him, but so that he was asleep so that I could sleep at least one hour or more. In both the cities and rural communities, as social and religious traditions overlapped, there were grand fiestas for baptisms, saint's days, and weddings. Contemporary celebrations of marriage seem pale in comparison.

The matron of honor and the best man would take charge of the preparations. There were exquisite foods to be cooked, musicians to be hired, and dresses to be made. Young women might curl their hair with the heat from the kerosene lamp, or with the keys from sardine cans. People came to fiestas expecting to have a good time, and, according to Rosendo Montano, they did. He describes the ceremony of the printorio, where the bridegroom and his parents asked for the hand of the young woman. In his case, the bride and her parents accepted after eight days. Three days later, they were married in Las Vegas, New Mexico. He says they danced until three in the morning, and then adds, fiestas, lord, have mercy, I love them. And if one can't understand Spanish, the tone in his voice clearly shows his happy memories. After the girls who had hung their feet over the back of the buggy and the boys who

had worked in the quarries had grown to be men and women, their lives suddenly became very serious. They had experienced adolescence in a time of universal change, and now they had to assume the roles and responsibilities of citizen, parent, spouse, and worker. Well, when we first got married, I didn't have a job. I really had to work in the film station, some gas, changing tires, and then I got a job there with a car company. I was reading meters. I had that meter job there for about six months, and I thought I was reading and having all of that was the easiest job in beating meters, you know, lights, there was nothing to it.

Well, I didn't have that job very long, but the person's like him there, his uncle brought him from New York. The grassy was out of a job, the person took the job over. He asked me, he says, do you want a job, I'll take the pass, so sure I'm married, man, I've got to take a living from my family, how much were you making it that time? At that time, I was making about $100 a month. Was that big money then? Well, that was big money, of course. Everything was very reasonable. I read it was $25, and we could buy a dozen eggs for about $0. $0.10 and a rough bed for about $0.10. No, it's $0.10. No, it's $0.10. No, it's $0.10. No, it's $0.10. No, it's $0.10. $0.10, $0.10. $0. I'm glad one of the highest works you can do. I said, shovel these stokers. Stokers. They keep them stokers full of all the time.

And at nighttime, between 10 o'clock and 12 o'clock bed, those centers, you know, they create big singers. They'll end up knocking down and wheel them out in the wheelbarrow. And I was shoveling cold all night long. And that was radar shift. Sometimes my relief wouldn't come. So I'd have to double over on the radar shift on his. And he was a type of the fall of there. He was a young fella. He didn't believe in working. So half the time I was working for about 16 hours. And I was newly married, you know, boy, I didn't get much sleep. Sleep with daytime, you know, and she was off the work. And I was there sleeping. But then the tunnel woke up. I'd come back on a three o'clock shift again. This is 1920 when I had that job. 1920 by a daughter was born. And as if following the biblical mandate, they went forth, were fruitful and multiplied. Anybody may know who's intimate andcats.

Why it always comes from some country, that's a beautiful tradition, which is set to be Principled. That beauty is left. Attangle the sources that are prescribed at prayer, elaboration of self- Vij sedans. he says, needs success. Mrs. Steven says that now she has six children, all of whom were born at home with the doctor. The first son is 46, he was born when we were married one year and five months and then the Christi's mother was born two years and a few days after the gilper and from then on and then every one year and two months, every 11 months and things like that and real he was born in the hospital when everything from the hospital

The old people seem to be more in touch with their religion, perhaps throughout the years religion and specifically Catholicism have been the only constants. Catholicism has provided a tangible link with history, having been shared by many previous generations. To me it's important because if I don't know that Kennedy has already had some time to teach this election in our Catholic religion and I think it is beautiful, beautiful. Very beautiful.

And integral part of this religious devotion is the care and maintenance of the Santos or replicas of the saints. The My grandmother had given my mother the Blessed Virgin Mary and had given my godmother

mother Joseph and baby Jesus, so that when my mother wanted to say an event and needed the holy family, she would borrow Joseph and the baby Jesus from my godmother. Finally my godmother just gave my mother both Santos because she felt that the holy family like any other family should be together. My mother was sick for six months before she died.

She was like a baby and I took care of her the whole time. Afterwards I asked my father if I could have the Santos and he said I could, so I took them and painted them and made a frame for them. I made clothes and I dressed them. And when my father saw them he said, oh they look like little Americans, how cute! Most of our lives are spent either in training for a lucrative career or working at a job to support ourselves or our families. We tend to measure our self-worth in terms of the kind of work we do or the amount of

money that it pays. To grow old is to begin to lose that security. One no longer has the comradeship of one's co-workers or the weekly or monthly paycheck. With that loss of economic security also goes the feeling of being able to compete to achieve or to participate in a meaningful way. And the old ones talk of their work in almost reverent tones. They remember the stories of their past productivity when work was sacred. When one's work ceased then began the end of one's usefulness. Ilario Montano, a man from the Colote, talks about his work and his own decline. This season we total dismantling in the end of this pandemic of the fundraising season some weeks ago. We!) Con I was born in 1888 in Tecolote, New Mexico, and raised in El Rito.

I went to the public schools where I had very poor teachers. One year I had a teacher who had 72 students, we learned virtually nothing that year. She had just too many students. That year and in those days, they taught us only in Spanish. So I had 2 years. I learned a little bit of English that I know when I went into the business of constructing

houses. I worked several years learning that trade and eventually had my own company. I worked very little on the ranch with my parents. I built houses until I was 68 years old. And then the Social Security people said I was too old and they made me stop working. But the reason I could work that long was because I was in good health. After that I had some misfortune. One day I was chopping wood at home and one of the chips hit me in the leg.

They rubbed it with creams and creams and creams. In fact I just threw the bottles away not too long ago. That my leg was infected and they cut it in the wrong place just below the knee. Then they had to amputate the whole thing and that's what happened to my leg. With the end of working there is time, time to think, time to talk neighbors, time to remember. It used to be very hard to live here. People were paid 50 cents a day for wages, now that they're paying a dollar a day, people still don't have enough.

Ironically at a point when their time can finally be their own, many old people are physically mentally or financially unable to enjoy their time. Like an antique clock, they have begun to wind down. Their energies having been spent on lifetimes of loving, fighting, dreaming and living for others. They are baffled by a world that grows increasingly more complex, more fragmented and more alien. Before, five dollars would buy almost a month's supplies, now you can't even buy matches for that, everything has changed. The churches used to be charitable. It didn't charge for weddings or baptisms and so forth.

Now they charge for everything, there's no respect, it's terrible what's happening in the world. Nowadays, if you see a young person in the street, they don't even say good morning. Before young people would ask how are you, how's your family? Now they don't even speak. They do what they want, life is very sad and I don't know what will happen. We shut them away in their old houses with their old photographs, or worse, we leave them

in nursing homes, relegating their care to strangers. We are annoyed at their slowness of speech, their slowness of movement. We have completely divorced ourselves from them, forgetting the rich and varied knowledge they can share with us. In our self-indulgent frenzy to stay forever young, we see only their arthritic limbs and truthless mouths. Before neighbors were friendly, they'd ask how are you, what are you going to do today? They'd offer to help, but today if you die, nobody cares, there's no help, no caring, no faith, no nothing.

They would still give you a good amount, then they'll speak with each other. All sometimes I get menial jobs and I think I'm going to make something, but I don't. All we can do is wait for our social security checks, it's all that we have left. When the first of the month comes I know that it will be there, and that's why I love my little mailbox. When a muscle is not used, it begins to atrophy. When a mind is not used, it begins to grow senile.

Sitting there in their rockers or on the edges of their beds, they wait. They wait for sons and daughters to visit, they wait for social security checks, they wait to die. I think we will see you again this day. Bye! I'm just safe to pin you get me long time ago. I lost you. I lost you. You did. You are not alone. I'm not alone. I'm not alone. I'm not on the floor from there to the kitchen. I didn't see it. I'm fine. I'll see if I can't help see you alone. Oh, Trent. Oh, Trent. Oh, Trent. Sat on their pop bench like book ends. A newspaper blown through the grass.

Balls on the round toes. But the high shoes of the old friends. Old friends. Winter companions the old men. Lost in their overcoats waiting for the sunset. The old folks at home, an intimate history of New Mexico, has been a production of KU&M FM Albuquerque, New Mexico, and is part of a project series funded in part by a grant from the New Mexico Arts Commission and the National Endowment for the Arts. This program was written and produced by Mary Adams, with technical direction by Paul Mansfield. It was and what a time it was it was. A time only no sense. A time of confidence says. Long ago it must be.

I have a fold to grab. Prison your memories. They're all that's left you. It is for one good you, your dream. Love you. But you have to see the end. So I got to get theDanielsimers. I'm off and save stuck air but 27 days away. I'm off here get the M06. The ipod was unplugged off. But I couldn't imagine the Defiantanok story.