I’ve been listening to Los Lobos lately (I love that their splash page says, Peace, ese!). I’m listening to the older stuff, the Spanish stuff. La Pistola y El Corazón nearly brings me to tears, even though I don’t completely understand all the words. The sadness in Hidalgo’s voice when he sings, Los besos que me diste mi amor … ay, it’s just so sad. I’m also reading Bless Me, Ultima. Funny, but despite all those years attending the same university where Rudolfo Anaya taught I never read a single book of his. It wasn’t until I left the state that I found the interest. I’m sorry I didn’t read it before, it’s really an interesting book. It reminds me of being with my mom and Tony down in Los Lunas at Christmas. Well, except there are no curanderas in my real life, and that was the 90’s in the bosque instead of the 40’s on the llano. But the characters of the book, I swear know them. See, Tony’s family is big, and they’re Hispanic (well, except for my mom–la gringa!). Just as Antonio’s family in the book is large and diverse and catholic, so is the family of the Tony I know. I think there’s even an Ultima somewhere in the mix, maybe Tony’s cousin Estella on his dad’s side.

Tony’s a good man. He grew up under similar circumstances as the Antonio of the book–he spoke only Spanish until he went to public school. In fact, Spanish was all his family ever spoke, period. Unlike most of his friends, however (and unlike the Antonio of the book), Tony had a hard time learning to read or write English. Teachers thought he had a learning disability and wanted to put him in special ed. Turns out he just didn’t understand it very well. He could speak it just fine, but reading and writing it was terribly difficult.

My mom met him in the mid-80’s when I was living in Albuquerque with my dad. He was a guard at the Western New Mexico Correctional Facility in Grants where my mom was an assistant librarian. I’d met him a time or two during the early part of their relationship, but I never really spent any significant time with him until my mom moved to Los Lunas. He was living down there while working on his Master’s Degree in Education at UNM. I remember he always complained complained complained about how hard school was. As someone who had a relatively easy time of it myself, I would always tease him and tell him he was just a big llorón (crybaby). He always laughed. Sometimes, he’d even pretend to cry. I’d say, “Pobrecito!” to which he’d reply with, “Waaa!” and rub his brown eyes with his brown hands. But one time some years later he explained to me that in order to deeply understand anything that is written in English, he must first translate it into Spanish and then read it. And if he is required to write a research paper on it, he first translates the material into Spanish, writes the paper in Spanish, and then finally translates the paper into English. I never called him a llorón after that.

Today, Tony is a Principal at an elementary school. He is a good man. Reading Bless Me, Ultima reminds me of him, and perhaps that is why I like the book so much. It may also be that time of the year. I’m getting a little homesick again, and reading the book brings me closer to New Mexico, where the trees have turned colors and dropped their leaves, and where the evenings are crisp and blanketed in piñon and cedar smoke from the fireplaces of the adobe houses in the valley.

Here, it is still warm. It promises to be yet another Halloween celebrated in shorts and tank-tops. [ sigh ]