Introduction by Brent and Lynae
OK. Now, when you read this book, I want to tell you, it's not exactly how it happened. You see, Mom took us on this trip through New Mexico the summer Lynae turned 12, mostly to see Grandma Lucy and then down to southern Arizona to see our oldest sister, Cheryse and her three little girls. I was already 13 and a half that summer. Then we traveled again the following summer. During this time period we lived with our dad and step-mom in an apartment near Summerlin in Las Vegas, Nevada.
I’m not going to explain about the joint custody, because that is a whole ‘nother book. Mom explained to us ahead of time that on these trips we would be seeing some of the sights that belonged to her family history; a lot of them that she had never seen, because she didn't grow up in New Mexico.
But some of the things in this book didn't happen exactly in the order that they are told. You see, we kind of jumped around from place to place and time to time, because when we took the trip in real time, we had to kind of stay on the road and follow the map, but when Lynae and I traveled around through the past, we didn't always follow the map -- or the calendar. So when the book was written, we thought it would be better to tell it in historical order. So sometimes, the story about our trip gets a little out of order, to put the story of our adventures into a chronological order.
Well, Brent, aren't you going to tell them that they can travel through time using their imaginations, and using the history and genealogy in this book, they can have the same adventures and exciting visits to the past?
No, Lynae, I think I'll just let them find that out on their own. They might not believe in time travel, or they just might not like adventure.
Maybe we should tell them that the history and genealogy information are accurate as far as we know, and the stories about when we are with Mom, are accurate, except for time order, and the rest. . .
I think you just did. I’m just sorry we couldn’t include all the neat people we met and especially all the relatives, but that would have taken several more volumes.
We should have kept better journals. Maybe we can return some day and spend more time.
Oh, well, maybe we should just let them read the book and decide for themselves.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Chaves clarifies the Name Baca or Vaca
IntroduChaves clarifies: [1]
“The correct spelling of this family name is VACA but already in the seventeenth century BACA had come into common usage, and was the accepted spelling after the Reconquest. Although it is derived from Cabeza de Vaca, a title and name received by a Spanish hero in the year 1212, the full name was never once used by this New Mexico family for over two centuries. Several Vacas came to the New World shortly after its discovery. Among those in Cortes’ time were Diego de Vaca, a native of Mancilla in Leon and Luis Vaca, a native of Toledo. Either of these could have been the father of Juan Vaca, the father of our Cristóbal Baca.
These were among the founding families of New Mexico; the first colonists, the very roots upon which the branches of many New Mexico families were established. These were among the few families that survived the initial Indian raids, the purging of rebels and deserters and mutinies. They were the strong, the brave, the few who lived to establish your ancestral families in the new world of New Mexico as the world moved into the new seventeenth century.”
[1]Origins p 23ction by Brent and Lynae
“The correct spelling of this family name is VACA but already in the seventeenth century BACA had come into common usage, and was the accepted spelling after the Reconquest. Although it is derived from Cabeza de Vaca, a title and name received by a Spanish hero in the year 1212, the full name was never once used by this New Mexico family for over two centuries. Several Vacas came to the New World shortly after its discovery. Among those in Cortes’ time were Diego de Vaca, a native of Mancilla in Leon and Luis Vaca, a native of Toledo. Either of these could have been the father of Juan Vaca, the father of our Cristóbal Baca.
These were among the founding families of New Mexico; the first colonists, the very roots upon which the branches of many New Mexico families were established. These were among the few families that survived the initial Indian raids, the purging of rebels and deserters and mutinies. They were the strong, the brave, the few who lived to establish your ancestral families in the new world of New Mexico as the world moved into the new seventeenth century.”
[1]Origins p 23ction by Brent and Lynae
Preface to Volume II Turn the Hearts of the Children
Brent and Lynae registered for school in Clark County School district after their first summer trip to New Mexico. Lynae continued at Becker Middle School in eighth grade until Christmas break, when their father moved them to Henderson. Brent began his four year study at Rancho Academy of Aerospace and Aviation, the magnet high school in North Las Vegas. To do this he took a city bus "CAT" bus from Summerlin over ten miles to Rancho High School down town. Although the school district provided transportation for magnet school students from their home school, Brent voluntarily attended early morning seminary for forty five minutes before school by catching a CAT bus at 4:30 every day with his friends Emily, Justin and another Brent to attend seminary at 5:45 and then walk a half mile to Rancho high school from the meeting house to attend 7:00 a.m. early bird classes that extended their curriculum to include the magnet classes. After school if there were sports, meetings or other activities, they stayed until four or five, then rode the CAT bus an hour home. Highly motivated students trying to live their religious commitments as well as pursue their goals for the future have earned my admiration.
Read this book in the order it is told
Maybe we should tell the readers to read the book in the order that they are told. Brent, aren't you going to tell them that they can travel through time using their imaginations, and using the history and genealogy in this book, they can have the same adventures and exciting visits to the past?
No, Lynae, I think I'll just let them find that out on their own. They might not believe in time travel, or they just might not like adventure.
Maybe we should tell them that the history and genealogy information are accurate as far as we know, and the stories about when we are with Mom, are accurate, except for time order, and the rest. . .
I think you just did. I’m just sorry we couldn’t include all the neat people we met and especially all the relatives, but that would have taken several more volumes.er that they are told.
No, Lynae, I think I'll just let them find that out on their own. They might not believe in time travel, or they just might not like adventure.
Maybe we should tell them that the history and genealogy information are accurate as far as we know, and the stories about when we are with Mom, are accurate, except for time order, and the rest. . .
I think you just did. I’m just sorry we couldn’t include all the neat people we met and especially all the relatives, but that would have taken several more volumes.er that they are told.
Whirlwind Tour of New Mexico 2000
Whirlwind Tour
Brent and Lynae were at the end of summer vacation with Mom. The three had driven the 1990 Escort® from Orem, Utah, through Durango, Colorado, and Farmington, New Mexico, to begin a quick tour of the state of New Mexico before the kids had to return to Las Vegas to begin the new school year at Becker Middle School. They spent a few minutes scanning the boxes of genealogy and history books Mom carried along—without much enthusiasm. “They’re just names of people who died a long time ago,” Lynae grumbled. “Why should we be interested in a bunch of dead ancestors?”
Mom ignored the comment and changed the subject. “If you watch the odometer in about ten miles we can celebrate the one hundred thousand mark. Watch, it will magically change over to zero, zero, zero!” Mom announced proudly as she drove between Cuba, New Mexico and Albuquerque. Visiting Grandma Lucy was the main objective, but stirring up some interest in these two youngest about family history had been high on her list. Exiting the highway toward Río Rancho, Mom read a sign: “Coronado State Park”. That looks interesting. Maybe we can kidnap Grandma and take her with us to visit the park. I hope she can go up to Santa Fé with us too! It would be fun to take her along. I’d like you to get to know her a little. We see her so seldom.“
Grandma Lucy agreed to visit the park later in the evening when it wasn’t so hot. The four tourists parked and walked along the walk-way toward the cave like atmosphere which protected ancient hieroglyphic rocks and less ancient Spanish relics. Brent and Lynae wandered aimlessly through the displays as Mom ooed and awed about the history. Secretly they imitated her enthusiasm.
Grandma Lucy declined the Sunday trip to Santa Fé but insisted she’d have dinner ready for their return.
After three days based at Grandma Lucy’s, the little family drove away early in the morning heading south on I -70 with the goal of reaching El Paso before dark. The plan was to drive on to Safford, Arizona, the following day to visit older sister, Cheryse, with her three little girls, and then back to Orem for a couple of days before Brent and Lynae would fly back to Las Vegas, a week before the first day of school.
“Mom, we’ve been driving forever. When are we going to get to El Paso?” Lynae began grumbling as she woke from sleeping in the back seat. “I want the front seat now. Brent, you’ve had it all morning. I’ve been cramped up in the back seat the whole day.”
“Hijita mía,” Mom attempted to calm her daughter. “Look at the mountains on the left. Do you see them?”
“Yeah, they’re so far away they look blue.”
“Those are the mountains the wagons followed on the long journeys to Santa Fé, and back again to El Paso after the Indian massacres many years later.”
Lynae gazed out the window staring at the long line of bluish mountains to the East. The clouds were darkening and the rain began to spatter on the windshield.
“Oh, no! Now it’s going to rain all day.” Lynae whined again.
“No té preocupas, hijita. The rain comes quickly and only lasts an hour or two in the summer. Look at the mountains, Lynae. See the place where it makes a V and seems to end, then start again. That‘s the pass in the mountains that the wagons took across the river and into El Paso. I want to go there when we stop. I’d like to see Oñates pass to the north that marks the beginning of Europeans into New Mexico history.”
Lynae curled back up on the back seat pulling the Indian blanket purchased in Santa Fé around her to fend off the chill feeling that the pouring rain and the flashing lightening gave her. She dozed off and on again for the rest of the drive.
Brent asked, “No te preocupas. What does that mean in English?”
“I don’t know. I never thought about it.” Mom answered distracted by the pouring rain. “Oh, yes, I guess it is the familiar command -- don’t you preoccupy yourself -- don’t worry about it.” Mom translated very literally.
“Did you talk Spanish in your family when you were a kid?”
“No. I learned it in high school, and then I got a minor in Spanish in college about a million years ago. I’ve forgotten more than I ever knew, I guess.”
“Grandma Lucy speaks Spanish. Didn’t she talk to you in Spanish?”
“Mother spoke Spanish only with her sisters. It used to frustrate me so bad when they would start a story in English then finish the punch line in Spanish. I would beg to know what they said, and then one of them would say, ‘o como me molestas tú.’ I knew that meant I was being a pest. The clichés I understood. I didn’t know the direct translations, but like any child acquiring language, the meaning was clear in the circumstances and tone of voice.
“What sounded to me like Balgumydeeous - was actually, Válgame Diós -- literally, Bless me my god[1] -- accompanied great relief or need for relief -- almost a prayer but somehow more demanding.
“When she said, ‘Commomolestessto -- como me molestes tú.’ (You are bothering me.) That needed no translation; the tone of voice said it all. When she called us Swato, we knew it meant we'd done something foolish, and...."
“Is that what you mean when you call me Swato, Brent?” Lynae was awake and listening, and sat up at the sound of the way too familiar Spanish word.
"That’s like the joke about the Lone Ranger getting scalped when his Indian friend found out what Tonto meant!” Brent started in teasing again.
“What does it mean?" Lynae demanded.
“It means fool, like Swato,” Brent translated all too eagerly.
“Mom, he calls me that too! Brent, I feel angry. . .” Lynae attempted an “I message response” like her counselor-Mom had been trying to teach her.
"O, como me molestan -- both of you. Can’t you just love each other?” Mom begged. Then added in an undertone they could barely hear; “Tonto got his own back by calling the Lone Ranger ‘Quein no sabe” which is ‘he who knows nothing.’”
“We love each other. We’re friends now." Brent remembered and stopped his teasing for a few minutes. “What else? What other Spanish did your family use?” He said emphasizing his very mature, interested face, by cupping his chin in his open hand.
“There was one she always says when she is cutting or dicing meat or vegetables with a knife. I don't know a real translation. If we tried to snitch a piece she would shake the knife almost threateningly and laugh, ‘mocha mochá’. I remember she explained the story once, about some girl nick-named Mocha, because she was so short, and the word for chopping or chopped off is something like that[2]. But I never thought she was just kidding.”
“Oooo, that’s what she said to me when she was making the turkey sandwiches and I tried to snitch a piece. I didn’t know the words, but I got the message -- clearly.” Brent confessed, pretending to count all his fingers to be sure none were missing.
“Lanza Lanza pica de la ponce, was just a little ditty, like “peek-a boo,” to make babies laugh and giggle.“ Mom continued, hoping to distract them from another quarrel. "When we got hurt or sick Mama would rub the hurt place and chant: Sana, Sana. . . ” The children chimed in, “colita de marana. Si no sanas, hoy sanarás mañana" -- just a loving little recitation reserved for our owies," she finished, looking over at them, surprised that they knew the words.
“You say that too, Mom,” they laughed.
“Do I really, hijita-mía?” Mom laughed with them.
At the Motel 6® in El Paso, after a more than satisfyingly delicious dinner across the street at Leo’s, the three settled down after showers for a TV movie.
Lynae came from the bathroom in her nightgown, with a towel wrapped around her head, and watched the TV for a minute.
“What’s happening? Who’s that? Why did she look that way? Are they going to get married? Will we get to see the wedding? Oh, I hope they show the wedding dress!” The questions shot out one after the other.
“Lynae, just listen!” Brent and Mom shushed her in unison. “Just listen, and let us listen, so we can find out what’s happening.”
The tour continued on to a quick visit in Safford with their big sister and the nieces. On the third day they hugged good-bye and headed back north through Arizona into Utah -- with a quick detour to visit Uncle Glenn’s family in Round Valley and a little back track through Gallup, New Mexico, to visit Auntie Lola.
Two days later Mom and Jenny drove them to the airport in Salt Lake City, where they all put on happy faces for the public performance. Mom went directly to the women’s restroom and cried her heart out. Jenny, quite surprised, later told her, “I always thought you were glad when we went back to ‘boarding school’ with Dad after a summer or weekend. I never knew you cried.”
“I know. I always tried to look happy ‘til you drove away with them all the weekends you drove them while you were in high school, but I would save the tears for after you left. It’s always a relief to get back to what ever normal is, but it is so hard to let them to back every time. It doesn’t seem to get any easier. They have to go back to a new apartment, new neighborhood, and start in a huge new school, so it was especially hard to let them go this time.”
“But they’ll be back next month.” Jenny just patted her Mom on the shoulder trying to comfort her and hold back her own tears, for the first time realizing what it was like from this side of the eight year long joint custody arrangement.
[1] Ed. Note: actually—be of value to me, God—or stand with me now, God.
[2] Ed. Note: Mocha is He cuts. Mochar is to cut
Brent and Lynae were at the end of summer vacation with Mom. The three had driven the 1990 Escort® from Orem, Utah, through Durango, Colorado, and Farmington, New Mexico, to begin a quick tour of the state of New Mexico before the kids had to return to Las Vegas to begin the new school year at Becker Middle School. They spent a few minutes scanning the boxes of genealogy and history books Mom carried along—without much enthusiasm. “They’re just names of people who died a long time ago,” Lynae grumbled. “Why should we be interested in a bunch of dead ancestors?”
Mom ignored the comment and changed the subject. “If you watch the odometer in about ten miles we can celebrate the one hundred thousand mark. Watch, it will magically change over to zero, zero, zero!” Mom announced proudly as she drove between Cuba, New Mexico and Albuquerque. Visiting Grandma Lucy was the main objective, but stirring up some interest in these two youngest about family history had been high on her list. Exiting the highway toward Río Rancho, Mom read a sign: “Coronado State Park”. That looks interesting. Maybe we can kidnap Grandma and take her with us to visit the park. I hope she can go up to Santa Fé with us too! It would be fun to take her along. I’d like you to get to know her a little. We see her so seldom.“
Grandma Lucy agreed to visit the park later in the evening when it wasn’t so hot. The four tourists parked and walked along the walk-way toward the cave like atmosphere which protected ancient hieroglyphic rocks and less ancient Spanish relics. Brent and Lynae wandered aimlessly through the displays as Mom ooed and awed about the history. Secretly they imitated her enthusiasm.
Grandma Lucy declined the Sunday trip to Santa Fé but insisted she’d have dinner ready for their return.
After three days based at Grandma Lucy’s, the little family drove away early in the morning heading south on I -70 with the goal of reaching El Paso before dark. The plan was to drive on to Safford, Arizona, the following day to visit older sister, Cheryse, with her three little girls, and then back to Orem for a couple of days before Brent and Lynae would fly back to Las Vegas, a week before the first day of school.
“Mom, we’ve been driving forever. When are we going to get to El Paso?” Lynae began grumbling as she woke from sleeping in the back seat. “I want the front seat now. Brent, you’ve had it all morning. I’ve been cramped up in the back seat the whole day.”
“Hijita mía,” Mom attempted to calm her daughter. “Look at the mountains on the left. Do you see them?”
“Yeah, they’re so far away they look blue.”
“Those are the mountains the wagons followed on the long journeys to Santa Fé, and back again to El Paso after the Indian massacres many years later.”
Lynae gazed out the window staring at the long line of bluish mountains to the East. The clouds were darkening and the rain began to spatter on the windshield.
“Oh, no! Now it’s going to rain all day.” Lynae whined again.
“No té preocupas, hijita. The rain comes quickly and only lasts an hour or two in the summer. Look at the mountains, Lynae. See the place where it makes a V and seems to end, then start again. That‘s the pass in the mountains that the wagons took across the river and into El Paso. I want to go there when we stop. I’d like to see Oñates pass to the north that marks the beginning of Europeans into New Mexico history.”
Lynae curled back up on the back seat pulling the Indian blanket purchased in Santa Fé around her to fend off the chill feeling that the pouring rain and the flashing lightening gave her. She dozed off and on again for the rest of the drive.
Brent asked, “No te preocupas. What does that mean in English?”
“I don’t know. I never thought about it.” Mom answered distracted by the pouring rain. “Oh, yes, I guess it is the familiar command -- don’t you preoccupy yourself -- don’t worry about it.” Mom translated very literally.
“Did you talk Spanish in your family when you were a kid?”
“No. I learned it in high school, and then I got a minor in Spanish in college about a million years ago. I’ve forgotten more than I ever knew, I guess.”
“Grandma Lucy speaks Spanish. Didn’t she talk to you in Spanish?”
“Mother spoke Spanish only with her sisters. It used to frustrate me so bad when they would start a story in English then finish the punch line in Spanish. I would beg to know what they said, and then one of them would say, ‘o como me molestas tú.’ I knew that meant I was being a pest. The clichés I understood. I didn’t know the direct translations, but like any child acquiring language, the meaning was clear in the circumstances and tone of voice.
“What sounded to me like Balgumydeeous - was actually, Válgame Diós -- literally, Bless me my god[1] -- accompanied great relief or need for relief -- almost a prayer but somehow more demanding.
“When she said, ‘Commomolestessto -- como me molestes tú.’ (You are bothering me.) That needed no translation; the tone of voice said it all. When she called us Swato, we knew it meant we'd done something foolish, and...."
“Is that what you mean when you call me Swato, Brent?” Lynae was awake and listening, and sat up at the sound of the way too familiar Spanish word.
"That’s like the joke about the Lone Ranger getting scalped when his Indian friend found out what Tonto meant!” Brent started in teasing again.
“What does it mean?" Lynae demanded.
“It means fool, like Swato,” Brent translated all too eagerly.
“Mom, he calls me that too! Brent, I feel angry. . .” Lynae attempted an “I message response” like her counselor-Mom had been trying to teach her.
"O, como me molestan -- both of you. Can’t you just love each other?” Mom begged. Then added in an undertone they could barely hear; “Tonto got his own back by calling the Lone Ranger ‘Quein no sabe” which is ‘he who knows nothing.’”
“We love each other. We’re friends now." Brent remembered and stopped his teasing for a few minutes. “What else? What other Spanish did your family use?” He said emphasizing his very mature, interested face, by cupping his chin in his open hand.
“There was one she always says when she is cutting or dicing meat or vegetables with a knife. I don't know a real translation. If we tried to snitch a piece she would shake the knife almost threateningly and laugh, ‘mocha mochá’. I remember she explained the story once, about some girl nick-named Mocha, because she was so short, and the word for chopping or chopped off is something like that[2]. But I never thought she was just kidding.”
“Oooo, that’s what she said to me when she was making the turkey sandwiches and I tried to snitch a piece. I didn’t know the words, but I got the message -- clearly.” Brent confessed, pretending to count all his fingers to be sure none were missing.
“Lanza Lanza pica de la ponce, was just a little ditty, like “peek-a boo,” to make babies laugh and giggle.“ Mom continued, hoping to distract them from another quarrel. "When we got hurt or sick Mama would rub the hurt place and chant: Sana, Sana. . . ” The children chimed in, “colita de marana. Si no sanas, hoy sanarás mañana" -- just a loving little recitation reserved for our owies," she finished, looking over at them, surprised that they knew the words.
“You say that too, Mom,” they laughed.
“Do I really, hijita-mía?” Mom laughed with them.
At the Motel 6® in El Paso, after a more than satisfyingly delicious dinner across the street at Leo’s, the three settled down after showers for a TV movie.
Lynae came from the bathroom in her nightgown, with a towel wrapped around her head, and watched the TV for a minute.
“What’s happening? Who’s that? Why did she look that way? Are they going to get married? Will we get to see the wedding? Oh, I hope they show the wedding dress!” The questions shot out one after the other.
“Lynae, just listen!” Brent and Mom shushed her in unison. “Just listen, and let us listen, so we can find out what’s happening.”
The tour continued on to a quick visit in Safford with their big sister and the nieces. On the third day they hugged good-bye and headed back north through Arizona into Utah -- with a quick detour to visit Uncle Glenn’s family in Round Valley and a little back track through Gallup, New Mexico, to visit Auntie Lola.
Two days later Mom and Jenny drove them to the airport in Salt Lake City, where they all put on happy faces for the public performance. Mom went directly to the women’s restroom and cried her heart out. Jenny, quite surprised, later told her, “I always thought you were glad when we went back to ‘boarding school’ with Dad after a summer or weekend. I never knew you cried.”
“I know. I always tried to look happy ‘til you drove away with them all the weekends you drove them while you were in high school, but I would save the tears for after you left. It’s always a relief to get back to what ever normal is, but it is so hard to let them to back every time. It doesn’t seem to get any easier. They have to go back to a new apartment, new neighborhood, and start in a huge new school, so it was especially hard to let them go this time.”
“But they’ll be back next month.” Jenny just patted her Mom on the shoulder trying to comfort her and hold back her own tears, for the first time realizing what it was like from this side of the eight year long joint custody arrangement.
[1] Ed. Note: actually—be of value to me, God—or stand with me now, God.
[2] Ed. Note: Mocha is He cuts. Mochar is to cut
Las Vegas to Santa Fe
Las Vegas to Santa Fe
Brent and Lynae were bored. It was a long Labor Day weekend with no school. Their dad was working, and Gina, their stepmother, was away for the morning practicing with the choir for an upcoming regional conference. It was storming and the rain and thunder made Lynae shudder, even though the August weather in Las Vegas was still warm. Lightning flashing nearby caused her to dive onto the bed, pulling a pillow over her head with a shriek. She pulled the Indian blanket from the top of her bed and wrapped it around her shoulders.
"It makes me mad when we don't get to go with Mom for the long weekends. I liked it better when we lived close enough to Mom to visit two weekends a month,” Brent pouted ignoring his sister’s scream.
"I wish it could be summer vacation all the time so we could stay with Mom and go on adventures all year round," agreed twelve-year-old Lynae moving the pillow from her face.
"Let’s imagine an adventure with Mom. We can look through the family history books and Mom’s genealogy books and imagine that we are able to travel through time and meet with our ancestors. I’m glad she wanted us to keep her wooden chest for here while she is traveling. We can learn a lot of things about our ancestors from this stuff.”
“We already learned a bunch, stopping at every museum and historical marker in New Mexico.[1]"
"Can you imagine really meeting up with some old Spaniard and discovering he was our great-great-grandfather?" I can't even speak Spanish very well, how would we talk to them?" Brent brushed and polished the new western boots he had purchased at the leather shop on the Mexican side of the river in El Paso. The ornate designs carved into the thick leather intrigued him.
"We could wear universal translators like in Star Trek®," Lynae said, pinning on rose shaped pin she found in the chest. "Here you pin this one on, it looks like a feather pen and scroll."
"I think these pins were Mom's when she was our age. We better be sure to put them back into the display case when we are finished. They might be valuable -- at least as heirlooms." Brent stated pragmatically. “She sure didn’t want to leave the chest in a storage garage.”
As they pinned the pins onto their Colorful New Mexico T-shirts lightening blasted, illuminating the entire room, and causing the electricity to fail. The walls of the small apartment seemed to dissolve, and before them appeared the mountainous area of northern New Mexico they remembered driving through the past summer to visit their Grandma Lucy.
"Where are we? This doesn’t look like our apartment! What’s happening Brent?”
"More to the point, WHEN are we? It doesn’t even look like our century! Look at the houses and roads.”
“Look over there," Lynae followed the line of his pointing finger without, interrupting her flow of questions. "There’s two boys about our age. Let’s ask them."
Maybe they know where and when we are," Brent said hopefully, always the one to immediately want more fact and information.
As they walked closer they heard the boys talking:
"I am afraid for us, Antonio." The young Indian boy was drawing with his stick in the red dirt of the estancia outside of Santa Fe. "We have grown up together almost as brothers, but one day, we may have to fight each other as enemies."
"Why would you want to fight me?" Antonio Baca asked his young friend. We have lived together and worked together. I can't remember the time before you and I were together. My father has been your father and my mother, your mother.”
"That is all true," Juan admitted. "But when I speak with other people of my pueblo they remind me that we were taken from our real parents by your people. Taken away by the friars and soldiers that came into our pueblos forcing our parents to accept your gods and your commandments. We were taken from our homes and made to learn the catechism and our parents that would not do these things -- that would not bow down to your god -- they were killed. My people say that someday we shall be a strong people again, and then we will rise up against the Spaniards. We will take back our land and our homes, and we will live again as the Pueblo People did for centuries before your people came and conquered our lands. They say that is something we must not forget -- ever."
"That's foolish talk, Juan," Antonio shouted at his friend and foster brother. "Your people, my people! You don't even remember the Pueblos. You don't even remember how to speak the language of your fathers. You are as much a Catholic and a Spaniard as I am.
“How can you talk about fighting your own people -- we are your people, my family is your family. You are a Spaniard as much as I am."
"No, Antonio, I am of the Pueblos. Your people have changed my language and my gods and even my name. But they cannot change my heart and my skin. I was just a small child when I was taken to live with your family. I didn't even have a Pueblo name, but I know it would not have been Juan. What kind of name is Juan, anyway? It has no meaning. It is not the name of a Pueblo man!"
"You know as well as I do from our catechism, it is the name of Juan Bautisto, John the Baptist, who baptized our Lord Jesus Christ in the River Jordan in Jerusalem -- over 1600 years ago. Having his name is a great honor. Juan is also the name of the apostle that loved our Lord, and took care of Mary. ¿Why are you talking so crazy, my brother. What has gotten into you?"
Brent and Lynae looked at each other in astonishment. “Sixteen hundred years ago -- Jesus -- baptized.” Lynae stammered.
“That means we are four hundred years ago -- sometime around 1600.” Brent interpreted.
But before either Lynae or Juan could answer, Antonio’s sisters Isabel and Juana came into view from behind a barn like building. They motioned for the boys to return to the house for dinner.
"Bring your two friends along. There is plenty for everyone."
Brent passed a startled look to Lynae as they realized they had been invited to dinner at their ancestors’ table. They turned and followed the boys into the house, immediately noticing the change of temperature and the wonderful odor of cooking from the kitchen. Antonio’s mom was dressed in a simple straight dress of gamuza, made from buckskin, much like the neighboring Indian women dressed. Her long hair was pulled back and held at the nape of her neck with a decorated raw hide tie, then braided down the middle of her back to her waist. The Spanish men and women had put away their fine silks and laces for the more practical dress of the frontier. Cristóbal Baca wore chamois, and the boys were dressed in buckskin pants and shirts.
"Papá," Antonio ventured during the evening meal at the adobe house his father had built with the help of the Indian servants. "I can still remember coming here on the wagon train from Mexico City. I was very small, but I remember the long days of walking along beside the wagons and the soldiers with us. I can remember when we built our house, and I remember many things about those years when I was a small child. But I don't remember when or why Juan came to live with us here. He is like a brother to me, but he says he is just a slave like those who work with you in the fields and with the animals."
Cristóbal Baca looked at his growing son; he reminded him much of himself at that awkward age, no longer a boy, but not yet a man. The older Baca was well past forty now, dark complexioned and considered to be well featured by those who described him. Both he and his wife, Doña Ana Ortíz, had been born in Mexico City.
He gazed at the blond, fair skinned, visitor at his table, who so much resembled his own mother and grandmother of his youthful memories. Considering Antonio’s question he thought of his childhood, and remembered that often he had wondered where the country of Spain was, the country his parents had come from. He had never been able to imagine what it would be like to cross the ocean to a foreign land. Mexico City was the only home Ana had every known. What had compelled him to take his wife and three daughters and his young son to travel thousands of miles to help settle a barren wilderness? What had compelled their parents to cross the great ocean and leave their homeland in Spain, to move to a new world? He passed a meaningful glance at his wife, and chose his words carefully. The children listened silently with anticipation.
"My sons -- for Juan, I consider you my son as much as I do Antonio. Many changes are taking place in the world in your short lifetimes -- many changes for our people and for our world. Not even eighty years before I was born, explorers began traveling about the world. Until that time I have heard it said that most people thought the world was flat, thinking that Spain and the countries around Spain were all there was to the entire world. Personally, I don’t believe many thought the world was flat, that was more a myth among those who never went to sea.
“But when Queen Isabela agreed to provide ships and sailors to Cristóbal Colón Christopher Columbus) so he could follow the stories of men like Amerigus Vespucci and others who claimed the world was round -- that they could sail around the world to find trade routes to China, our world began to change very rapidly. When Columbus sailed into this New World, he reported that he had found India; he took back samples of gold and silver and even native people he found here. I understand that Amerigus Vespucci claimed that it was he who had discovered the new continent. The mapmakers of the day began labeling the new maps of this land as Amerigus' land. It soon began to be called by that name so that the whole continent was referred to as the Americas.
"I wondered about that," Lynae said thoughtfully, entering the conversation while serving the men and boys at the table. “You'd think we would call it Columbia, like in the song, 'Colombia the gem of the ocean.'[2] Lynae broke into a line of song vibrantly. Brent hushed her with a glance that she knew so well meant she was embarrassing him.
"They thought they had found India," Brent recognized the story every child learned in school and interrupted excitedly. "People began calling the natives Indians, and soon all the natives of this new land were referred to as Indians.”
“That’s right,” Papá Baca smiled, “even though there were hundreds of tribes with distinct languages, social and cultural patterns that made them very different from one another. Within a short time after Columbus reported his discoveries, more expeditions set out to find gold and silver and jewels. The stories heard in Spain told of whole cities that were plated with gold, with streets of gold and men who wore ornaments of pure gold and diamonds and silver and other riches.”
“I still hear stories from my people that such cities once did exist among their ancestors." Juan added.
Brent couldn't contain his curiosity and asked, "But what would make people leave their homes and cross an ocean to an unknown land with their families? I can't even imagine! Going to church and starting a new school in a new city is scaring me plenty."
Cristóbal explained, "In Spain at that time the wealthy landowners passed their wealth along to only the oldest of their sons -- leaving the other children with nothing to look forward to. Becoming a soldier or a member of a church order as a teacher or friar or monk was all there was, even if they had choices.
The daughters were fortunate if they were married off to a landowner, but most were not. Lynae and Isabel, by your age, you might have been promised to an older man with a family who had lost his wife, mostly to care for the house and children, or be sent to become nuns in a monastery, just to be sure you were taken care of. Brent, there wouldn't be much for you except to join the military or become a friar."
"I like the military. I would have gone into the Air Force." Brent said proudly, missing the questioning looks that passed his way from the rest of the family. It was Lynae's turn to shush Brent.
"Well,” Papá Baca continued, "there was a great deal of poverty and hardship. When the stories began to circulate of wealth and land with promises of titles and nobility to anyone who would make the explorations. Most people, no matter what their social status, were happy and excited to volunteer for a part in the expeditions.”
“Royalty? What sort of title would be given to farmers?” Brent questioned.
“That of Hidalgo — a term coined from higo de algo – which really only means son of something. I’ve heard it said ‘an hidalgo is a man who hasn’t eaten for three days, but appears on the street chewing on a toothpick, as if he’d just finished a banquet. The Hidalgo had pride, even if his pantry was bare. Appearances were everything.[3] “
Papá Baca laughed, then continued. “Our grandparents sailed to New Spain on some of the earliest ships bringing colonists. They settled in colonies around Mexico City and raised their families on land of their own. Their families in Spain considered them almost as royalty.
"Early explorers, including a grandfather Cabeza de Vaca, endured shipwreck and many years of enslavement by some of the Indian tribes far to the south of here. Later they explored the area, returning to Spain with great stories -- some true and some enhanced and exaggerated. They awed their families with claims that in this land there was gold and silver for anyone who would make the trip.
An Indian guide, El Turco, led Cornado’s party into the wilderness with promises of leading them to the hidden golden City of Quivira. When it turned out to be no more than a poverty stricken Indian village, Coronado tortured a confession out of El Turco that he had planned to lead them into the desert and leave them to die of hunger and thirst to avenge some past wrongs to his people. He was strangled as punishment.[4]"
The children listened in awe. Each was calculating the impact such struggles would have on their own lives, imagining the adventures and hardships.
"I can understand that!” Brent and Antonio stated together.
“I would want my family to have a better life if I could offer it to them."
"At the same time, the Pueblo people were fighting drought and warring Plains tribes and facing a decline in their population. They had moved in and out of their pueblos for generations due to droughts and the aggressiveness of the Plains Tribes that fought them and stole from them. The Pueblos lived for centuries as farmers, peacefully raising crops, securing their families by saving up to three years of food supplies at a time. They hunted and fished and traded with other tribes for the necessities, but mostly they kept to themselves, living off the land, hunting and gathering since the beginning of man.
"That's how I want to live,” Antonio announced enthusiastically. ”[5]and Juan can come live with me in a new wilderness."
"Why did the new colonists have a problem with leaving the Indians alone to continue living the way they wanted?" Lynae asked thoughtfully, interrupting the boys’ fantasy.
"Everything the Pueblo tribes did seem to have been a religious ritual. Their gods were the mountains and plants, the animals, even the sun, moon and stars in the sky. The entire social and political activities of those people revolved around their religious rites. Even art in their baskets and pottery told the stories of their gods.”[6]
"And is there a problem with that?” Brent questioned, recalling the beautiful Native American pottery, paintings and rugs that had been displayed in Villa de Guadalupe, where they had visited with Auntie Lola, in Gallup.
"When these activities were reported to the King and Queen of Spain, the Church authorities decided that it was important to teach all the natives of the New World about the true God and about Christianity, so they would all be saved.” Cristóval harrumphed, obviously not in agreement.
“I'm sure the original plan was a good one,” Doña Ana defended, “and the men who thought it was important were really interested in saving the souls of these natives who they considered heathen. But I think something went terribly wrong when the soldiers and the colonists, and yes, I’m sorry to say, even some friars, became aware of the wealth of the Incas in Mexico.”
“In the name of saving the heathens they destroyed entire tribes of Incas and destroyed ancient civilizations along with all the religious and cultural relics that were within those areas.” Cristóval argued. “Lust for gold and wealth overpowered the initial spiritual objectives, and it seems that everyone involved
in those early expeditions had nothing more on their mind than conquering the Indians to steal their gold."
“So religion became an excuse to conquer," Brent restated, beginning to sound as angry as his ancient ancestor.
"...and saving souls became an excuse to persecute and enslave the Indians." Lynae finished his thought, as she began to follow Isabel’s example of clearing the pottery plates and bowls from the wooden table.
"How much was lost of ancient cultures when the conquistadores made their claims and purged the many villages, no one will ever know." Isabel added solemnly.
"Your people, Juan, lived further north, here among the deserts and mountains near that new city of Santa Fé, and along the Río Grande. The stories of gold and the legends of the golden cities drew explorers further north into their country. Some of the Plains Indians became guides to the explorers like Cortez and Cabeza de Vaca. To make their employers happy, the guides told them the legends they knew of the ancient cities of gold, but they told them as if those cities still existed in this very area."
"I’ve never seen any gold houses around here," Antonio emphasized sounding like he had explored every town in the province of New Mexico.
"As the explorers moved northward they found no gold or silver cities. They were disappointed at the poverty and the mud houses they found instead of the golden palaces they expected."
"But with the explorers came many men of faith; many of the friars truly had the souls of their Indian brothers in mind. As they marched northward and met with the Indians, they taught them about God and about Jesus Christ," defended doña Ana.
"Among many of the Indian tribes ancient legends were passed down over thousands of years. The Legends were about a white God who had come as a man to the ancient tribes, teaching them a way of peace and a new way to live. He promised to return one day in the future.”
“¡I’ve heard some stories like that!” Brent exclaimed. “The Spanish conquistadores that came with Cortez seemed to have come from the sky, and they appeared much as the legend described the white god, bearded and fair skinned.”
“Yes, and believing that the bearded white-god had returned as promised anciently, they submitted willingly to the newcomers, and to learn the ways of Christianity. “ Lynae remembered Mom telling them about that when they were driving.
“The daughter of one of the last kings told the story to the conquerors -- she became the wife of one of them, and the blood-lines, as well as the cultures of the Indians and Spaniards became forever blended.[7]” Brent contributed quoting Mom’s story.
“After that first inter-racial marriage was accepted, most of the soldiers took wives from among the Indians. Or they married the Indian mothers of their children already born." The conversation began to sound like the ones in their family when Uncle Glenn and Mom started talking about modern day politics. Lynae and Brent listened intrigued by their surroundings, their ancestors, and the subject.
"Many of the friars were good hearted men who truly wanted to save the souls of all men by teaching them and bringing them to believe in Jesus Christ.” It was back in doña Ana’s court.
“But soldiers and colonists wanting gold, wealth, and lands got mixed with the spiritual goals of the church. While the men of God were trying to give spiritual wealth to the natives, others were taking all the worldly wealth they could get a hold of, including the wives and children, their food, animals, and any precious metals or jewels that they might find among them,” Cristóbal summarized.
Then he added his thoughts in order to answer the original starting point of the family dinner conversation.
"Then Oñate was granted the contract from Spain to lead a wagon train of soldiers and settlers north into province of New Mexico. Your mother and I decided this would be our chance to obtain land of our own to pass on to our children and grandchildren as an inheritance – our legacy. We chose to leave our comfortable homes in Mexico City to be a part of these new settlements. We heard these stories of wealth and abundant fertile land. We were promised we would be able to have all the Indians we needed to help build this new land. We didn't think of the Indians as slaves, and we have tried to treat them all well. In many cases, they are better off working our estancia than they were in the Pueblos where they had to fight off the Plains Indians, droughts and wild animals, “Cristóbal rationalized. “The friars give them the spiritual gifts that will save their souls and allow them to live in heaven when they die," he added less confidently, looking in his wife’s direction.
Brent thought that Cristóbal was trying more to convince himself and his family than anyone else.
"And Juan," doña Ana said, laying her hand on the boy’s shoulder, "you have been our son. We love you and treat you as one of our family. We love you as if you were our own son."
"The world has changed greatly in our generation and will continue to change, but this much will not change. We will always love and honor you as a part of our family, just as we do Ana whom we brought with us when we came from Mexico City,"
Papá agreed.
Later when the children were asleep and the house was quiet, Lynae and Isabel heard Doña Ana ask her husband, "Cristóbal, will the Indians really ever forget who they are and become Christians? Or are we in danger of them rebelling against us as they did in the early days?"
Cristóbal didn't answer immediately, but then he said the words that were meant to comfort his wife, as much as himself. "The natives have been subdued by the soldiers. They have been converted to Christianity by the friars. The world is changing, my Ana. It is our world. We will live together as brothers in peace under Christ." Doña Ana shifted the sleeping baby, Alonso, into his cradle and returned to the comfort of the bed.
“Válgame Diós.” Isabel sighed. Lying nearby, wrapped in a brightly colored woven blanket, Lynae heard Isabel’s whispered prayer. "Bless me my God; let me live to be a mother and a grandmother to many generations." Lynae remembered hearing her grandmother Lucy whisper that same prayer, "Válgame Diós, she echoed silently." Isabel and her mother slept calmly that night believing the words of Cristóbal Baca.
Cristóbal lay awake into the night after all his family members were asleep. He was not so certain of what he had told his wife. He had been with Oñate and the soldiers when they killed so many Indian families. Soldiers had forced the natives to submit to the Church conversions. He had known some of the men who had attacked the Acoma villages on the excuse of punishing the tribe for crimes committed against the band of soldiers. He remembered with a shudder the screams and curses of hundreds of Indian men, women, and children slaughtered by Oñate’s orders. Though Oñate returned to New Spain with no gold or wealth, was tried and convicted for his crimes, too many more men like Oñate, with the thirst for blood and the lust for gold made Cristóbal unsure that the Spaniards would ever become one people under one God with the native people. Too many things had gone wrong, and too many lives had been taken in the name of religion to leave him feeling like a spiritual brother or leader to any people. Perhaps it was truly blessing from God that the King of Spain had given up on finding wealth in this new world and it had become only a security area for the protection of the over two thousand Indian converts who could never go back to their old ways. They could not even survive if abandoned by the Spaniards[8]. Very possibly, he thought, it was a blessing that no gold or silver had been found in the territory. That very fault might possibly save the land for the more important inheritance that Cristóbal wished to pass on to his heirs.
*Papá Baca
*Papá Baca
*Papá Baca
The names and detailed descriptions and anecdotal tid bits of individuals can be found in Origins of New Mexico Families by Fry Angelco Chavez where they are listed alphabetically for easy reference. A change of font indicates a direct quote from the source and a footnote at the beginning of the chapter identifies the source(s).
[2] Columbia the Gem of the Ocean, author
[3] Coronado p 104
[4] Santa Fe Trail p 12 many details of the trails and scenery are taken from this book.
[5] New Mexico pp. 23-27, 92-94 History p. 12-14 many details in the following chapters about the people, places and culture are from these two books. Change of font indicates direct quotations or close paraphrasing.
[6] New Mexico p. 26
[7] James Mitchner Mexico, and oral tradition
[8] New Mexico pp. 34
Brent and Lynae were bored. It was a long Labor Day weekend with no school. Their dad was working, and Gina, their stepmother, was away for the morning practicing with the choir for an upcoming regional conference. It was storming and the rain and thunder made Lynae shudder, even though the August weather in Las Vegas was still warm. Lightning flashing nearby caused her to dive onto the bed, pulling a pillow over her head with a shriek. She pulled the Indian blanket from the top of her bed and wrapped it around her shoulders.
"It makes me mad when we don't get to go with Mom for the long weekends. I liked it better when we lived close enough to Mom to visit two weekends a month,” Brent pouted ignoring his sister’s scream.
"I wish it could be summer vacation all the time so we could stay with Mom and go on adventures all year round," agreed twelve-year-old Lynae moving the pillow from her face.
"Let’s imagine an adventure with Mom. We can look through the family history books and Mom’s genealogy books and imagine that we are able to travel through time and meet with our ancestors. I’m glad she wanted us to keep her wooden chest for here while she is traveling. We can learn a lot of things about our ancestors from this stuff.”
“We already learned a bunch, stopping at every museum and historical marker in New Mexico.[1]"
"Can you imagine really meeting up with some old Spaniard and discovering he was our great-great-grandfather?" I can't even speak Spanish very well, how would we talk to them?" Brent brushed and polished the new western boots he had purchased at the leather shop on the Mexican side of the river in El Paso. The ornate designs carved into the thick leather intrigued him.
"We could wear universal translators like in Star Trek®," Lynae said, pinning on rose shaped pin she found in the chest. "Here you pin this one on, it looks like a feather pen and scroll."
"I think these pins were Mom's when she was our age. We better be sure to put them back into the display case when we are finished. They might be valuable -- at least as heirlooms." Brent stated pragmatically. “She sure didn’t want to leave the chest in a storage garage.”
As they pinned the pins onto their Colorful New Mexico T-shirts lightening blasted, illuminating the entire room, and causing the electricity to fail. The walls of the small apartment seemed to dissolve, and before them appeared the mountainous area of northern New Mexico they remembered driving through the past summer to visit their Grandma Lucy.
"Where are we? This doesn’t look like our apartment! What’s happening Brent?”
"More to the point, WHEN are we? It doesn’t even look like our century! Look at the houses and roads.”
“Look over there," Lynae followed the line of his pointing finger without, interrupting her flow of questions. "There’s two boys about our age. Let’s ask them."
Maybe they know where and when we are," Brent said hopefully, always the one to immediately want more fact and information.
As they walked closer they heard the boys talking:
"I am afraid for us, Antonio." The young Indian boy was drawing with his stick in the red dirt of the estancia outside of Santa Fe. "We have grown up together almost as brothers, but one day, we may have to fight each other as enemies."
"Why would you want to fight me?" Antonio Baca asked his young friend. We have lived together and worked together. I can't remember the time before you and I were together. My father has been your father and my mother, your mother.”
"That is all true," Juan admitted. "But when I speak with other people of my pueblo they remind me that we were taken from our real parents by your people. Taken away by the friars and soldiers that came into our pueblos forcing our parents to accept your gods and your commandments. We were taken from our homes and made to learn the catechism and our parents that would not do these things -- that would not bow down to your god -- they were killed. My people say that someday we shall be a strong people again, and then we will rise up against the Spaniards. We will take back our land and our homes, and we will live again as the Pueblo People did for centuries before your people came and conquered our lands. They say that is something we must not forget -- ever."
"That's foolish talk, Juan," Antonio shouted at his friend and foster brother. "Your people, my people! You don't even remember the Pueblos. You don't even remember how to speak the language of your fathers. You are as much a Catholic and a Spaniard as I am.
“How can you talk about fighting your own people -- we are your people, my family is your family. You are a Spaniard as much as I am."
"No, Antonio, I am of the Pueblos. Your people have changed my language and my gods and even my name. But they cannot change my heart and my skin. I was just a small child when I was taken to live with your family. I didn't even have a Pueblo name, but I know it would not have been Juan. What kind of name is Juan, anyway? It has no meaning. It is not the name of a Pueblo man!"
"You know as well as I do from our catechism, it is the name of Juan Bautisto, John the Baptist, who baptized our Lord Jesus Christ in the River Jordan in Jerusalem -- over 1600 years ago. Having his name is a great honor. Juan is also the name of the apostle that loved our Lord, and took care of Mary. ¿Why are you talking so crazy, my brother. What has gotten into you?"
Brent and Lynae looked at each other in astonishment. “Sixteen hundred years ago -- Jesus -- baptized.” Lynae stammered.
“That means we are four hundred years ago -- sometime around 1600.” Brent interpreted.
But before either Lynae or Juan could answer, Antonio’s sisters Isabel and Juana came into view from behind a barn like building. They motioned for the boys to return to the house for dinner.
"Bring your two friends along. There is plenty for everyone."
Brent passed a startled look to Lynae as they realized they had been invited to dinner at their ancestors’ table. They turned and followed the boys into the house, immediately noticing the change of temperature and the wonderful odor of cooking from the kitchen. Antonio’s mom was dressed in a simple straight dress of gamuza, made from buckskin, much like the neighboring Indian women dressed. Her long hair was pulled back and held at the nape of her neck with a decorated raw hide tie, then braided down the middle of her back to her waist. The Spanish men and women had put away their fine silks and laces for the more practical dress of the frontier. Cristóbal Baca wore chamois, and the boys were dressed in buckskin pants and shirts.
"Papá," Antonio ventured during the evening meal at the adobe house his father had built with the help of the Indian servants. "I can still remember coming here on the wagon train from Mexico City. I was very small, but I remember the long days of walking along beside the wagons and the soldiers with us. I can remember when we built our house, and I remember many things about those years when I was a small child. But I don't remember when or why Juan came to live with us here. He is like a brother to me, but he says he is just a slave like those who work with you in the fields and with the animals."
Cristóbal Baca looked at his growing son; he reminded him much of himself at that awkward age, no longer a boy, but not yet a man. The older Baca was well past forty now, dark complexioned and considered to be well featured by those who described him. Both he and his wife, Doña Ana Ortíz, had been born in Mexico City.
He gazed at the blond, fair skinned, visitor at his table, who so much resembled his own mother and grandmother of his youthful memories. Considering Antonio’s question he thought of his childhood, and remembered that often he had wondered where the country of Spain was, the country his parents had come from. He had never been able to imagine what it would be like to cross the ocean to a foreign land. Mexico City was the only home Ana had every known. What had compelled him to take his wife and three daughters and his young son to travel thousands of miles to help settle a barren wilderness? What had compelled their parents to cross the great ocean and leave their homeland in Spain, to move to a new world? He passed a meaningful glance at his wife, and chose his words carefully. The children listened silently with anticipation.
"My sons -- for Juan, I consider you my son as much as I do Antonio. Many changes are taking place in the world in your short lifetimes -- many changes for our people and for our world. Not even eighty years before I was born, explorers began traveling about the world. Until that time I have heard it said that most people thought the world was flat, thinking that Spain and the countries around Spain were all there was to the entire world. Personally, I don’t believe many thought the world was flat, that was more a myth among those who never went to sea.
“But when Queen Isabela agreed to provide ships and sailors to Cristóbal Colón Christopher Columbus) so he could follow the stories of men like Amerigus Vespucci and others who claimed the world was round -- that they could sail around the world to find trade routes to China, our world began to change very rapidly. When Columbus sailed into this New World, he reported that he had found India; he took back samples of gold and silver and even native people he found here. I understand that Amerigus Vespucci claimed that it was he who had discovered the new continent. The mapmakers of the day began labeling the new maps of this land as Amerigus' land. It soon began to be called by that name so that the whole continent was referred to as the Americas.
"I wondered about that," Lynae said thoughtfully, entering the conversation while serving the men and boys at the table. “You'd think we would call it Columbia, like in the song, 'Colombia the gem of the ocean.'[2] Lynae broke into a line of song vibrantly. Brent hushed her with a glance that she knew so well meant she was embarrassing him.
"They thought they had found India," Brent recognized the story every child learned in school and interrupted excitedly. "People began calling the natives Indians, and soon all the natives of this new land were referred to as Indians.”
“That’s right,” Papá Baca smiled, “even though there were hundreds of tribes with distinct languages, social and cultural patterns that made them very different from one another. Within a short time after Columbus reported his discoveries, more expeditions set out to find gold and silver and jewels. The stories heard in Spain told of whole cities that were plated with gold, with streets of gold and men who wore ornaments of pure gold and diamonds and silver and other riches.”
“I still hear stories from my people that such cities once did exist among their ancestors." Juan added.
Brent couldn't contain his curiosity and asked, "But what would make people leave their homes and cross an ocean to an unknown land with their families? I can't even imagine! Going to church and starting a new school in a new city is scaring me plenty."
Cristóbal explained, "In Spain at that time the wealthy landowners passed their wealth along to only the oldest of their sons -- leaving the other children with nothing to look forward to. Becoming a soldier or a member of a church order as a teacher or friar or monk was all there was, even if they had choices.
The daughters were fortunate if they were married off to a landowner, but most were not. Lynae and Isabel, by your age, you might have been promised to an older man with a family who had lost his wife, mostly to care for the house and children, or be sent to become nuns in a monastery, just to be sure you were taken care of. Brent, there wouldn't be much for you except to join the military or become a friar."
"I like the military. I would have gone into the Air Force." Brent said proudly, missing the questioning looks that passed his way from the rest of the family. It was Lynae's turn to shush Brent.
"Well,” Papá Baca continued, "there was a great deal of poverty and hardship. When the stories began to circulate of wealth and land with promises of titles and nobility to anyone who would make the explorations. Most people, no matter what their social status, were happy and excited to volunteer for a part in the expeditions.”
“Royalty? What sort of title would be given to farmers?” Brent questioned.
“That of Hidalgo — a term coined from higo de algo – which really only means son of something. I’ve heard it said ‘an hidalgo is a man who hasn’t eaten for three days, but appears on the street chewing on a toothpick, as if he’d just finished a banquet. The Hidalgo had pride, even if his pantry was bare. Appearances were everything.[3] “
Papá Baca laughed, then continued. “Our grandparents sailed to New Spain on some of the earliest ships bringing colonists. They settled in colonies around Mexico City and raised their families on land of their own. Their families in Spain considered them almost as royalty.
"Early explorers, including a grandfather Cabeza de Vaca, endured shipwreck and many years of enslavement by some of the Indian tribes far to the south of here. Later they explored the area, returning to Spain with great stories -- some true and some enhanced and exaggerated. They awed their families with claims that in this land there was gold and silver for anyone who would make the trip.
An Indian guide, El Turco, led Cornado’s party into the wilderness with promises of leading them to the hidden golden City of Quivira. When it turned out to be no more than a poverty stricken Indian village, Coronado tortured a confession out of El Turco that he had planned to lead them into the desert and leave them to die of hunger and thirst to avenge some past wrongs to his people. He was strangled as punishment.[4]"
The children listened in awe. Each was calculating the impact such struggles would have on their own lives, imagining the adventures and hardships.
"I can understand that!” Brent and Antonio stated together.
“I would want my family to have a better life if I could offer it to them."
"At the same time, the Pueblo people were fighting drought and warring Plains tribes and facing a decline in their population. They had moved in and out of their pueblos for generations due to droughts and the aggressiveness of the Plains Tribes that fought them and stole from them. The Pueblos lived for centuries as farmers, peacefully raising crops, securing their families by saving up to three years of food supplies at a time. They hunted and fished and traded with other tribes for the necessities, but mostly they kept to themselves, living off the land, hunting and gathering since the beginning of man.
"That's how I want to live,” Antonio announced enthusiastically. ”[5]and Juan can come live with me in a new wilderness."
"Why did the new colonists have a problem with leaving the Indians alone to continue living the way they wanted?" Lynae asked thoughtfully, interrupting the boys’ fantasy.
"Everything the Pueblo tribes did seem to have been a religious ritual. Their gods were the mountains and plants, the animals, even the sun, moon and stars in the sky. The entire social and political activities of those people revolved around their religious rites. Even art in their baskets and pottery told the stories of their gods.”[6]
"And is there a problem with that?” Brent questioned, recalling the beautiful Native American pottery, paintings and rugs that had been displayed in Villa de Guadalupe, where they had visited with Auntie Lola, in Gallup.
"When these activities were reported to the King and Queen of Spain, the Church authorities decided that it was important to teach all the natives of the New World about the true God and about Christianity, so they would all be saved.” Cristóval harrumphed, obviously not in agreement.
“I'm sure the original plan was a good one,” Doña Ana defended, “and the men who thought it was important were really interested in saving the souls of these natives who they considered heathen. But I think something went terribly wrong when the soldiers and the colonists, and yes, I’m sorry to say, even some friars, became aware of the wealth of the Incas in Mexico.”
“In the name of saving the heathens they destroyed entire tribes of Incas and destroyed ancient civilizations along with all the religious and cultural relics that were within those areas.” Cristóval argued. “Lust for gold and wealth overpowered the initial spiritual objectives, and it seems that everyone involved
in those early expeditions had nothing more on their mind than conquering the Indians to steal their gold."
“So religion became an excuse to conquer," Brent restated, beginning to sound as angry as his ancient ancestor.
"...and saving souls became an excuse to persecute and enslave the Indians." Lynae finished his thought, as she began to follow Isabel’s example of clearing the pottery plates and bowls from the wooden table.
"How much was lost of ancient cultures when the conquistadores made their claims and purged the many villages, no one will ever know." Isabel added solemnly.
"Your people, Juan, lived further north, here among the deserts and mountains near that new city of Santa Fé, and along the Río Grande. The stories of gold and the legends of the golden cities drew explorers further north into their country. Some of the Plains Indians became guides to the explorers like Cortez and Cabeza de Vaca. To make their employers happy, the guides told them the legends they knew of the ancient cities of gold, but they told them as if those cities still existed in this very area."
"I’ve never seen any gold houses around here," Antonio emphasized sounding like he had explored every town in the province of New Mexico.
"As the explorers moved northward they found no gold or silver cities. They were disappointed at the poverty and the mud houses they found instead of the golden palaces they expected."
"But with the explorers came many men of faith; many of the friars truly had the souls of their Indian brothers in mind. As they marched northward and met with the Indians, they taught them about God and about Jesus Christ," defended doña Ana.
"Among many of the Indian tribes ancient legends were passed down over thousands of years. The Legends were about a white God who had come as a man to the ancient tribes, teaching them a way of peace and a new way to live. He promised to return one day in the future.”
“¡I’ve heard some stories like that!” Brent exclaimed. “The Spanish conquistadores that came with Cortez seemed to have come from the sky, and they appeared much as the legend described the white god, bearded and fair skinned.”
“Yes, and believing that the bearded white-god had returned as promised anciently, they submitted willingly to the newcomers, and to learn the ways of Christianity. “ Lynae remembered Mom telling them about that when they were driving.
“The daughter of one of the last kings told the story to the conquerors -- she became the wife of one of them, and the blood-lines, as well as the cultures of the Indians and Spaniards became forever blended.[7]” Brent contributed quoting Mom’s story.
“After that first inter-racial marriage was accepted, most of the soldiers took wives from among the Indians. Or they married the Indian mothers of their children already born." The conversation began to sound like the ones in their family when Uncle Glenn and Mom started talking about modern day politics. Lynae and Brent listened intrigued by their surroundings, their ancestors, and the subject.
"Many of the friars were good hearted men who truly wanted to save the souls of all men by teaching them and bringing them to believe in Jesus Christ.” It was back in doña Ana’s court.
“But soldiers and colonists wanting gold, wealth, and lands got mixed with the spiritual goals of the church. While the men of God were trying to give spiritual wealth to the natives, others were taking all the worldly wealth they could get a hold of, including the wives and children, their food, animals, and any precious metals or jewels that they might find among them,” Cristóbal summarized.
Then he added his thoughts in order to answer the original starting point of the family dinner conversation.
"Then Oñate was granted the contract from Spain to lead a wagon train of soldiers and settlers north into province of New Mexico. Your mother and I decided this would be our chance to obtain land of our own to pass on to our children and grandchildren as an inheritance – our legacy. We chose to leave our comfortable homes in Mexico City to be a part of these new settlements. We heard these stories of wealth and abundant fertile land. We were promised we would be able to have all the Indians we needed to help build this new land. We didn't think of the Indians as slaves, and we have tried to treat them all well. In many cases, they are better off working our estancia than they were in the Pueblos where they had to fight off the Plains Indians, droughts and wild animals, “Cristóbal rationalized. “The friars give them the spiritual gifts that will save their souls and allow them to live in heaven when they die," he added less confidently, looking in his wife’s direction.
Brent thought that Cristóbal was trying more to convince himself and his family than anyone else.
"And Juan," doña Ana said, laying her hand on the boy’s shoulder, "you have been our son. We love you and treat you as one of our family. We love you as if you were our own son."
"The world has changed greatly in our generation and will continue to change, but this much will not change. We will always love and honor you as a part of our family, just as we do Ana whom we brought with us when we came from Mexico City,"
Papá agreed.
Later when the children were asleep and the house was quiet, Lynae and Isabel heard Doña Ana ask her husband, "Cristóbal, will the Indians really ever forget who they are and become Christians? Or are we in danger of them rebelling against us as they did in the early days?"
Cristóbal didn't answer immediately, but then he said the words that were meant to comfort his wife, as much as himself. "The natives have been subdued by the soldiers. They have been converted to Christianity by the friars. The world is changing, my Ana. It is our world. We will live together as brothers in peace under Christ." Doña Ana shifted the sleeping baby, Alonso, into his cradle and returned to the comfort of the bed.
“Válgame Diós.” Isabel sighed. Lying nearby, wrapped in a brightly colored woven blanket, Lynae heard Isabel’s whispered prayer. "Bless me my God; let me live to be a mother and a grandmother to many generations." Lynae remembered hearing her grandmother Lucy whisper that same prayer, "Válgame Diós, she echoed silently." Isabel and her mother slept calmly that night believing the words of Cristóbal Baca.
Cristóbal lay awake into the night after all his family members were asleep. He was not so certain of what he had told his wife. He had been with Oñate and the soldiers when they killed so many Indian families. Soldiers had forced the natives to submit to the Church conversions. He had known some of the men who had attacked the Acoma villages on the excuse of punishing the tribe for crimes committed against the band of soldiers. He remembered with a shudder the screams and curses of hundreds of Indian men, women, and children slaughtered by Oñate’s orders. Though Oñate returned to New Spain with no gold or wealth, was tried and convicted for his crimes, too many more men like Oñate, with the thirst for blood and the lust for gold made Cristóbal unsure that the Spaniards would ever become one people under one God with the native people. Too many things had gone wrong, and too many lives had been taken in the name of religion to leave him feeling like a spiritual brother or leader to any people. Perhaps it was truly blessing from God that the King of Spain had given up on finding wealth in this new world and it had become only a security area for the protection of the over two thousand Indian converts who could never go back to their old ways. They could not even survive if abandoned by the Spaniards[8]. Very possibly, he thought, it was a blessing that no gold or silver had been found in the territory. That very fault might possibly save the land for the more important inheritance that Cristóbal wished to pass on to his heirs.
*Papá Baca
*Papá Baca
*Papá Baca
The names and detailed descriptions and anecdotal tid bits of individuals can be found in Origins of New Mexico Families by Fry Angelco Chavez where they are listed alphabetically for easy reference. A change of font indicates a direct quote from the source and a footnote at the beginning of the chapter identifies the source(s).
[2] Columbia the Gem of the Ocean, author
[3] Coronado p 104
[4] Santa Fe Trail p 12 many details of the trails and scenery are taken from this book.
[5] New Mexico pp. 23-27, 92-94 History p. 12-14 many details in the following chapters about the people, places and culture are from these two books. Change of font indicates direct quotations or close paraphrasing.
[6] New Mexico p. 26
[7] James Mitchner Mexico, and oral tradition
[8] New Mexico pp. 34
Acapulco to Santa Fé
"Lynae, Lynae!" Brent ran up the stairs to the small Las Vegas apartment. "Look what Mom sent me in the mail!"
"What is it? Brent." Lynae grabbed at the small package Brent clutched in his hands.
"It must be the special coin she said she found at the swap meet she visited. She wouldn't tell me on the phone when or where it was from, but she said we'd really like it."
"Maybe we can take it to the Coin Club at school Tuesday. Too bad it’s a weekend and there’s no one to show it off to."
Brent grabbed the package back from Lynae with a shove that sent her lunging in through the door of the apartment. "Good, Grief! She must have used steel strapping tape. I can't get it opened. Get me a knife or scissors, Lynae."
"No! You shoved me away. Open it yourself. I don't care what’s in it."
"Well, Gina isn't home to cry to, so keep it to yourself. I'm going in my room to open this. Come in if you like."
Realizing there was no one to feel sorry for her if she cried; Lynae immediately altered her posture and followed Brent into his room with a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer. "Open it with this!" Lynae handed over the scissors as a sort of peace offering.
Out fell a wad of bubble wrap in which a clear plastic audiocassette case stuffed with cotton and blue velvet was safely packed. In the very center, pushing against the clear plastic was a shiny silver coin dated 1610, Acapulco, Mexico.
“This is the first coin minted in Mexico -- the first mint in the New world!"[1] Brent whooped racing for his book on Mexico Coins from his summer numismatist conference in Denver.
Both children made a grab for the box as it fell to the floor under Brent's bed. As they struggled with each other scrambling after the coin, the floor opened up, and the children plunged headlong through history and time -- into a bustling Spanish town where mariachi bands paraded blaring through the streets. From this hillside where they landed, they saw what looked like rows of rabbit hutches, but as they walked closer, they recognized the clusters of flat roof adobe homes, whitewashed to a sparkling brightness under the bright blue New Mexico sky. In Las Vegas time it had been nearly a year since they visited this time and place, but several years had passed in Santa Fe.
Banners written in Spanish announced the celebration of the founding of Santa Fé, the new capital city of the Province of New Mexico. Governor Peralta was mounting the grandstand to give a speech along with other soldiers. Friars dressed in their long black robes, wearing huge rosaries and crucifixes around their necks surrounded the grandstand.
Lynae’ grasped Brent’s elbow as they approached the crowded streets. “Look at the ladies -- their faces are all painted. Maybe they're going to do a stage play. “
Brent looked around amazed at the brightly rouged cheeks of most the señoritas, and even the older abuelas, who walked the streets proudly in their brightly colored dresses and shawls.
Cristóbal Baca’s family was among the few who had remained at San Gabriel when the rest of the colonists deserted the previous year. Cristóbal himself was openly very critical of some friars who led the desertion, and was making that point to anyone who would listen. But he and Doña Ana, along with their children, Antonio, Juana, Isabela, Juan, Ana and baby Alonso were in the crowd. Lynae recognized them and beckoned to Brent. The two ran to be with their friends and family. Doña Ana Ortíz Baca, was dressed in a beautiful silk dress, trimmed with delicate white lace and gold piping. Her hair was pulled back, but not braided, and held in place by tortoise shell combs. The shawl over her head was just as ornate and beautiful, with fringes around the sides, embroidered with bright designs. Her tiny bright rose colored slippers matched perfectly the rose tones in her dress and shawl.[2]
The band stopped and the crowd cheered as Governor Peralta took his place at the speakers’ stand. Sweeping the huge embroidered sombrero from his head, he bowed and greeted the crowd. Cheers and greetings echoed through the streets. He began to recite a history of the province of New Mexico.
As Cristóval had previously described at the dinner table, the Royal family and their advisors had decided that New Mexico was not a land with great mineral wealth or significant agricultural potential so Spanish royalty had pretty much lost interest. Brent learned that during the years between 1609 and 1680, most the Spanish efforts in the area were made only to keep a hold on the land. Spain felt obligated to protect those converted natives living along the Río Grande.[3] This had become the main purpose of the missions. In his Mexico Coin workshop class he had also heard that maintenance of the missions probably cost Madrid more than one million pesos, which he had calculated was a very lot of money for that period of time.
New Mexico also was an expense to Spain because of the cost of the civil and military installations. As Brent mentally figured the amount of money dedicated to this colony so far away from Spain, he began to have an idea of the Spanish interest in religious movement during that colonial period.
Cristóval had explained to them that some in Spain considered New Mexico a "White Elephant.”[4] It was his understanding that Spain's interest in New Mexico was motivated mainly by the desire to have a Spanish force in the area to keep an active claim to that huge empty country to the North.
Early in the explorations, Spain and Portugal struck a deal to honor the Pope's decision regarding which lands each country could explore and claim. The Pope drew a line on the map from north to south dividing the New World into two parts. New discoveries resulted in maps being revised. The two countries agreed to move the line further west, leaving what then became the country of Brazil under Portuguese control, with the rest of South America belonged to Spain.
But other countries didn’t honor the Pope’s declaration since they had not agreed to any such arrangement. They now made claims to parts of the New World. France, England and even the Netherlands challenged Spain's exclusive control of the western world, so keeping control of the land appeared to be the motivation for supporting the missions.[5]
Governor Peralta continued his long speech about the history of the province. Lynae concentrated on his fancy velvet suit. The high fluted collar and lace cuffs would have looked feminine in her own century, but here, most of the men were similarly dressed for the occasion from their sateen caps to the expensive high top boots with beautifully designed carved leather,
"Like we didn't all know the history of Oñate’s troops and the wagon trains," Lynae whispered to Brent, returning from her little trance.
"Just listen, you might learn something new, or at understand more of what we found out our last trip to this time and place." Brent slapped at Lynae’s hand. “Besides, these people haven’t had the experience of visiting the museums and historical sights -- they live the adventures.”
"In 1604,” the governor continued: “Oñate chose to explore the region west of the Río Grande. As he traveled he watched for signs of silver and gold and precious stones he hoped would help his reputation with the the King. Oñate moved the center of government from San Gabriel in order to concentrate all the white population in the new town of Santa Fé, where he calculated there would be enough military force to protect all the colonists.
“Look!” Brent and Lynae had wandered toward the back of the crowd, being more interested in looking around than in listening to any more historical facts. Brent stared and pointed, “that’s don Pedro (Gomez) Durán y Cháves. Don’t even ask me how I know, but that's where the coin came from! Lynae, ask him if he is from Acapulco." Lynae looked incredulously at her brother’s order. Brent was beginning to realize this new talent for understanding the events of the past as they were happening.
"Hey, dummy, remember, you’re the one with one year of Spanish." But as she spoke she realized that even she understood all that was being said around her. Realizing that it was the coin that was acting as translator on this adventure, she strode forth toward the soldier, dressed in the official formal uniform.
“Sargento Pedro Gómez.” She spoke as she approached this son of Hernan Sanches Rico, who had been born in Valverde, in the jurisdiction of the Grand Master of Santiago. Lynae remembered reading that in 1613 he would be sent as a captain to Taos Pueblo to collect the governor's tribute from the natives. "Buenos Días, Señor Sargento," Lynae heard herself speak with a perfect Spanish accent in a strong clear voice, "I was wondering, sir, if you have come recently from the south, at the Port of Acapulco."
"Why yes, my young señorita," the Sergeant stated, flourishing his hat and suppressing a smile and hint of a twinkle in his dark brown eyes. “I was there just this past February, taxing the cargo of a ship that was being fitted for a Philippine voyage. I brought these freshly minted coins from Acapulco,. See the date is still shiny and new, 1610, the year of our Lord. May I give you one?"
"Oh, no sir, we have one already!” Brent emphatically stated, stepping protectively in front of Lynae. Sánches, insulted at such a reaction, strutted toward the reviewing stand, flipping the new silver coin in his hand. He wondered, perhaps, how two young children in New Mexico could have gotten one of the new silver coins.
“Brent you should have taken the coin to take back home!” Lynae shrieked.
“I’m not about to take his money. Who knows what he might think he was paying for?” Brent said unapologetically. “He was flirting with you, and I’m supposed to protect you. I’m your big brother.” Besides, he considered the effects of such an act might cause some sort of time travel paradox.
All the ladies and men were dressed regally for their part in the gala celebration. Embroidered skirts, vests and sombreros saved from the long journey from Mexico City so many years before were in full display. Soon Brent and Lynae recognized the family of Juan López Holguin Alferez son of Juan Lopez Villasana, native of Fuente Ovejuna de Estremadura, who came to New Mexico in 1600. Juan was of good stature; he was bearded, and looked like he was about forty years old.
"It looks like he's been in as many battles as you and Monte. The mark over his left eye matches yours. Maybe he had a brother to fight with when he was little."
Brent ignored Lynae’s comment. “The important ones to know are Isabel, wife of Juan de Vitoria Carvajal and Simón de Abedano who married María Ortíz Baca.
“It is through their marriage that we are descended.” Lynae stated proudly competing in their game of "Who knows the family tree?"
"Wouldn't it be fun to introduce ourselves to these great-grandparents?" Brent speculated. "But what would I say? 'Hi, I am your twenty-first century descendant. I come from four hundred years in the future’." He bounced his head side to side in the popular imitation of a stereotypical dumb blonde.
Further on toward the Governor's stand, Lynae pointed out Juan Pérez de Bustillon, who had come with the Oñate soldiers in 1598. Juan Pérez was small of stature, gray-bearded and had a wart on the left side of his face. He had with him his wife, two sons and seven daughters. One son, Simón, was already a soldier when they came with the wagons. Juan's wife was María de la Cruz. Another son, Diego, and four daughters celebrated with them.
"Well, Lynae trumpeted, at least now we know where you get your warts!"
"And we know where you get your height deficit, squatty-body," Brent countered with a punch at Lynae's shoulder.”
“I thought you said you were supposed to protect me, not beat me up!” Lynae rubbed her shoulder as she walked away from her brother.
"Well, I guess being short and ugly didn't keep him from getting a wife and having children," Lynae, always the romantic, whispered back to Brent when she was well out of reach. He shushed her with a look to say she was being pretty rude.
"Oh, look," Lynae whispered in a romantic tone to Brent, in spite of his look. "There is Yumar, the girl that married cousin Antonio Baca. She is only about my age.” Even at her age she was dressed in silk and her face was rouged with the alegría flower for color. Her tiny hands were stained as well where she had spit on the crushed flower petals and rubbed the resulting dye on her cheeks. “She came from Mexico with her family just recently. Should I introduce myself and tell her she is our great ancestor?”
“I think all our ancestors are great, like Uncle Eliseo said about his nieces and nephews.”
“Funny, Brent. Maybe you should go get Antonio and introduce them. He might like to know who he is going to marry.“
"I think I would like to marry Yumar," Brent reflected, unfortunately speaking out loud, and blushing a little at the thought.
"Ooo, Brent has a girl friend, Brent's in l-o-v-e!" chanted Lynae.
"Oh, quíate, Lynae. She's my great-great-great-grandmother. Can you blame me if I think she is beautiful?"
"Oh, there goes Diego de Vera. He’s the scoundrel left behind a family to go exploring. Look, he's already looking at all the ladies. But he is very handsome," Lynae remarked, puffing up her shoulders in spite of Diego's fine looks, to show her disgust for his bigamy. Look at pretty María de Abendano with her parents, Simón de Abendano and María Ortíz Baca; they are both still alive today, but by January 16,1622, when María marries Diego, both parents will have already died, probably from the influenza? If we had flu shots here and now, a lot of people would have lived to be a lot older. María is the granddaughter of Captain Juan López Holguin. Do you see him there on the reviewing stand?"
"I want to be sure and come back in 1625 to watch the scene as Diego confesses his bigamy to María."
As Lynae made that wish, a sudden whirlwind scattered the dry leaves and pine needles, and time shifted forward. “I hate it when you do that, Lynae. Now cut it out!” Brent hollered above the wind, dusting at his jacket.
Many decedents came through Josefa Baca including Diego de Vaca, antecedents include Cristobal Baca, Papa Baca.
[1]
[2] Coronado’s Land—Daily Life in Colonial New Mexico. Marc Simmons. Details of dress and culture are paraphrased from Simmons’ book in this and other chapters.
[3] New Mexico p. 61, Onate pp 595+.
[4] New Mexico p. 61 (France V. Scholes, "The Supply Service of New Mexico Missions in the Seventeenth Century, S: NMHR , Vo. V. White Elephant refers to the practice in India of giving away a White elephant as a gift because it is revered as holy and can not be sold or killed, but is a great expense to keep.
[5] New Mexico p. 61
"What is it? Brent." Lynae grabbed at the small package Brent clutched in his hands.
"It must be the special coin she said she found at the swap meet she visited. She wouldn't tell me on the phone when or where it was from, but she said we'd really like it."
"Maybe we can take it to the Coin Club at school Tuesday. Too bad it’s a weekend and there’s no one to show it off to."
Brent grabbed the package back from Lynae with a shove that sent her lunging in through the door of the apartment. "Good, Grief! She must have used steel strapping tape. I can't get it opened. Get me a knife or scissors, Lynae."
"No! You shoved me away. Open it yourself. I don't care what’s in it."
"Well, Gina isn't home to cry to, so keep it to yourself. I'm going in my room to open this. Come in if you like."
Realizing there was no one to feel sorry for her if she cried; Lynae immediately altered her posture and followed Brent into his room with a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer. "Open it with this!" Lynae handed over the scissors as a sort of peace offering.
Out fell a wad of bubble wrap in which a clear plastic audiocassette case stuffed with cotton and blue velvet was safely packed. In the very center, pushing against the clear plastic was a shiny silver coin dated 1610, Acapulco, Mexico.
“This is the first coin minted in Mexico -- the first mint in the New world!"[1] Brent whooped racing for his book on Mexico Coins from his summer numismatist conference in Denver.
Both children made a grab for the box as it fell to the floor under Brent's bed. As they struggled with each other scrambling after the coin, the floor opened up, and the children plunged headlong through history and time -- into a bustling Spanish town where mariachi bands paraded blaring through the streets. From this hillside where they landed, they saw what looked like rows of rabbit hutches, but as they walked closer, they recognized the clusters of flat roof adobe homes, whitewashed to a sparkling brightness under the bright blue New Mexico sky. In Las Vegas time it had been nearly a year since they visited this time and place, but several years had passed in Santa Fe.
Banners written in Spanish announced the celebration of the founding of Santa Fé, the new capital city of the Province of New Mexico. Governor Peralta was mounting the grandstand to give a speech along with other soldiers. Friars dressed in their long black robes, wearing huge rosaries and crucifixes around their necks surrounded the grandstand.
Lynae’ grasped Brent’s elbow as they approached the crowded streets. “Look at the ladies -- their faces are all painted. Maybe they're going to do a stage play. “
Brent looked around amazed at the brightly rouged cheeks of most the señoritas, and even the older abuelas, who walked the streets proudly in their brightly colored dresses and shawls.
Cristóbal Baca’s family was among the few who had remained at San Gabriel when the rest of the colonists deserted the previous year. Cristóbal himself was openly very critical of some friars who led the desertion, and was making that point to anyone who would listen. But he and Doña Ana, along with their children, Antonio, Juana, Isabela, Juan, Ana and baby Alonso were in the crowd. Lynae recognized them and beckoned to Brent. The two ran to be with their friends and family. Doña Ana Ortíz Baca, was dressed in a beautiful silk dress, trimmed with delicate white lace and gold piping. Her hair was pulled back, but not braided, and held in place by tortoise shell combs. The shawl over her head was just as ornate and beautiful, with fringes around the sides, embroidered with bright designs. Her tiny bright rose colored slippers matched perfectly the rose tones in her dress and shawl.[2]
The band stopped and the crowd cheered as Governor Peralta took his place at the speakers’ stand. Sweeping the huge embroidered sombrero from his head, he bowed and greeted the crowd. Cheers and greetings echoed through the streets. He began to recite a history of the province of New Mexico.
As Cristóval had previously described at the dinner table, the Royal family and their advisors had decided that New Mexico was not a land with great mineral wealth or significant agricultural potential so Spanish royalty had pretty much lost interest. Brent learned that during the years between 1609 and 1680, most the Spanish efforts in the area were made only to keep a hold on the land. Spain felt obligated to protect those converted natives living along the Río Grande.[3] This had become the main purpose of the missions. In his Mexico Coin workshop class he had also heard that maintenance of the missions probably cost Madrid more than one million pesos, which he had calculated was a very lot of money for that period of time.
New Mexico also was an expense to Spain because of the cost of the civil and military installations. As Brent mentally figured the amount of money dedicated to this colony so far away from Spain, he began to have an idea of the Spanish interest in religious movement during that colonial period.
Cristóval had explained to them that some in Spain considered New Mexico a "White Elephant.”[4] It was his understanding that Spain's interest in New Mexico was motivated mainly by the desire to have a Spanish force in the area to keep an active claim to that huge empty country to the North.
Early in the explorations, Spain and Portugal struck a deal to honor the Pope's decision regarding which lands each country could explore and claim. The Pope drew a line on the map from north to south dividing the New World into two parts. New discoveries resulted in maps being revised. The two countries agreed to move the line further west, leaving what then became the country of Brazil under Portuguese control, with the rest of South America belonged to Spain.
But other countries didn’t honor the Pope’s declaration since they had not agreed to any such arrangement. They now made claims to parts of the New World. France, England and even the Netherlands challenged Spain's exclusive control of the western world, so keeping control of the land appeared to be the motivation for supporting the missions.[5]
Governor Peralta continued his long speech about the history of the province. Lynae concentrated on his fancy velvet suit. The high fluted collar and lace cuffs would have looked feminine in her own century, but here, most of the men were similarly dressed for the occasion from their sateen caps to the expensive high top boots with beautifully designed carved leather,
"Like we didn't all know the history of Oñate’s troops and the wagon trains," Lynae whispered to Brent, returning from her little trance.
"Just listen, you might learn something new, or at understand more of what we found out our last trip to this time and place." Brent slapped at Lynae’s hand. “Besides, these people haven’t had the experience of visiting the museums and historical sights -- they live the adventures.”
"In 1604,” the governor continued: “Oñate chose to explore the region west of the Río Grande. As he traveled he watched for signs of silver and gold and precious stones he hoped would help his reputation with the the King. Oñate moved the center of government from San Gabriel in order to concentrate all the white population in the new town of Santa Fé, where he calculated there would be enough military force to protect all the colonists.
“Look!” Brent and Lynae had wandered toward the back of the crowd, being more interested in looking around than in listening to any more historical facts. Brent stared and pointed, “that’s don Pedro (Gomez) Durán y Cháves. Don’t even ask me how I know, but that's where the coin came from! Lynae, ask him if he is from Acapulco." Lynae looked incredulously at her brother’s order. Brent was beginning to realize this new talent for understanding the events of the past as they were happening.
"Hey, dummy, remember, you’re the one with one year of Spanish." But as she spoke she realized that even she understood all that was being said around her. Realizing that it was the coin that was acting as translator on this adventure, she strode forth toward the soldier, dressed in the official formal uniform.
“Sargento Pedro Gómez.” She spoke as she approached this son of Hernan Sanches Rico, who had been born in Valverde, in the jurisdiction of the Grand Master of Santiago. Lynae remembered reading that in 1613 he would be sent as a captain to Taos Pueblo to collect the governor's tribute from the natives. "Buenos Días, Señor Sargento," Lynae heard herself speak with a perfect Spanish accent in a strong clear voice, "I was wondering, sir, if you have come recently from the south, at the Port of Acapulco."
"Why yes, my young señorita," the Sergeant stated, flourishing his hat and suppressing a smile and hint of a twinkle in his dark brown eyes. “I was there just this past February, taxing the cargo of a ship that was being fitted for a Philippine voyage. I brought these freshly minted coins from Acapulco,. See the date is still shiny and new, 1610, the year of our Lord. May I give you one?"
"Oh, no sir, we have one already!” Brent emphatically stated, stepping protectively in front of Lynae. Sánches, insulted at such a reaction, strutted toward the reviewing stand, flipping the new silver coin in his hand. He wondered, perhaps, how two young children in New Mexico could have gotten one of the new silver coins.
“Brent you should have taken the coin to take back home!” Lynae shrieked.
“I’m not about to take his money. Who knows what he might think he was paying for?” Brent said unapologetically. “He was flirting with you, and I’m supposed to protect you. I’m your big brother.” Besides, he considered the effects of such an act might cause some sort of time travel paradox.
All the ladies and men were dressed regally for their part in the gala celebration. Embroidered skirts, vests and sombreros saved from the long journey from Mexico City so many years before were in full display. Soon Brent and Lynae recognized the family of Juan López Holguin Alferez son of Juan Lopez Villasana, native of Fuente Ovejuna de Estremadura, who came to New Mexico in 1600. Juan was of good stature; he was bearded, and looked like he was about forty years old.
"It looks like he's been in as many battles as you and Monte. The mark over his left eye matches yours. Maybe he had a brother to fight with when he was little."
Brent ignored Lynae’s comment. “The important ones to know are Isabel, wife of Juan de Vitoria Carvajal and Simón de Abedano who married María Ortíz Baca.
“It is through their marriage that we are descended.” Lynae stated proudly competing in their game of "Who knows the family tree?"
"Wouldn't it be fun to introduce ourselves to these great-grandparents?" Brent speculated. "But what would I say? 'Hi, I am your twenty-first century descendant. I come from four hundred years in the future’." He bounced his head side to side in the popular imitation of a stereotypical dumb blonde.
Further on toward the Governor's stand, Lynae pointed out Juan Pérez de Bustillon, who had come with the Oñate soldiers in 1598. Juan Pérez was small of stature, gray-bearded and had a wart on the left side of his face. He had with him his wife, two sons and seven daughters. One son, Simón, was already a soldier when they came with the wagons. Juan's wife was María de la Cruz. Another son, Diego, and four daughters celebrated with them.
"Well, Lynae trumpeted, at least now we know where you get your warts!"
"And we know where you get your height deficit, squatty-body," Brent countered with a punch at Lynae's shoulder.”
“I thought you said you were supposed to protect me, not beat me up!” Lynae rubbed her shoulder as she walked away from her brother.
"Well, I guess being short and ugly didn't keep him from getting a wife and having children," Lynae, always the romantic, whispered back to Brent when she was well out of reach. He shushed her with a look to say she was being pretty rude.
"Oh, look," Lynae whispered in a romantic tone to Brent, in spite of his look. "There is Yumar, the girl that married cousin Antonio Baca. She is only about my age.” Even at her age she was dressed in silk and her face was rouged with the alegría flower for color. Her tiny hands were stained as well where she had spit on the crushed flower petals and rubbed the resulting dye on her cheeks. “She came from Mexico with her family just recently. Should I introduce myself and tell her she is our great ancestor?”
“I think all our ancestors are great, like Uncle Eliseo said about his nieces and nephews.”
“Funny, Brent. Maybe you should go get Antonio and introduce them. He might like to know who he is going to marry.“
"I think I would like to marry Yumar," Brent reflected, unfortunately speaking out loud, and blushing a little at the thought.
"Ooo, Brent has a girl friend, Brent's in l-o-v-e!" chanted Lynae.
"Oh, quíate, Lynae. She's my great-great-great-grandmother. Can you blame me if I think she is beautiful?"
"Oh, there goes Diego de Vera. He’s the scoundrel left behind a family to go exploring. Look, he's already looking at all the ladies. But he is very handsome," Lynae remarked, puffing up her shoulders in spite of Diego's fine looks, to show her disgust for his bigamy. Look at pretty María de Abendano with her parents, Simón de Abendano and María Ortíz Baca; they are both still alive today, but by January 16,1622, when María marries Diego, both parents will have already died, probably from the influenza? If we had flu shots here and now, a lot of people would have lived to be a lot older. María is the granddaughter of Captain Juan López Holguin. Do you see him there on the reviewing stand?"
"I want to be sure and come back in 1625 to watch the scene as Diego confesses his bigamy to María."
As Lynae made that wish, a sudden whirlwind scattered the dry leaves and pine needles, and time shifted forward. “I hate it when you do that, Lynae. Now cut it out!” Brent hollered above the wind, dusting at his jacket.
Many decedents came through Josefa Baca including Diego de Vaca, antecedents include Cristobal Baca, Papa Baca.
[1]
[2] Coronado’s Land—Daily Life in Colonial New Mexico. Marc Simmons. Details of dress and culture are paraphrased from Simmons’ book in this and other chapters.
[3] New Mexico p. 61, Onate pp 595+.
[4] New Mexico p. 61 (France V. Scholes, "The Supply Service of New Mexico Missions in the Seventeenth Century, S: NMHR , Vo. V. White Elephant refers to the practice in India of giving away a White elephant as a gift because it is revered as holy and can not be sold or killed, but is a great expense to keep.
[5] New Mexico p. 61
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