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2017 January #150

January 2017

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Happy New Year!

Start the New Year in a new vehicle from Rico Auto Complex.

A tradition in Downtown Gallup since 1919!

The Ancient Way Café El Morro RV Park and Cabins

Thoughts From The West End What could possibly be more adventurous than a treasure hunt?

I’ve read an article recently about New Mexican, Forest Fenn, an art dealer in Santa Fe who decided to incite a treasure hunt. He simply hid a little chest in the mountains with about $1 million of goods in it that is still waiting to be found; though many have searched in vain.

He left the following poem as a hint to its location: As I have gone alone in there And with my treasures bold, I can keep my secret where, And hint of riches new and old.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

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JANUARY MENU January 6th Saffron Shrimp w/ Homemade Ravioli January 7th Slow Cooked Pork Lasagna Rolls

Begin it where warm waters halt And take it in the canyon down, Not far, but too far to walk.

Put in below the home of Brown.

January 13th Salmon Rockefeller w/ Scalloped Potatoes January 14th Raspberry Mole Chicken Breast January 20th Beef Wellington w/ Danish Whipped Potatoes

From there it’s no place for the meek, The end is ever drawing nigh; There’ll be no paddle up your creek, Just heavy loads and water high.

January 21st Red Jalepeno Mango Ahi Tuna January 27th Rock Lobster Angel Hair Carbonara January 28th Bacon Wrapped, Shrimp Stuffed Jalepeno Pepper

If you’ve been wise and found the blaze, Look quickly down, your quest to cease, But tarry scant with marvel gaze, Just take the chest and go in peace.

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Near mile marker 46 on Hwy 53, one mile east of El Morro National Monument Entrance

So why is it that I must go And leave my trove for all to seek?

The answers I already know, I’ve done it tired, and now I’m weak.

So hear me all and listen good, Your effort will be worth the cold.

If you are brave and in the wood I give you title to the gold.

In the same spirit as Mr. Fenn…I too have decided to create a treasure hunt. Whilst I don’t have the means to put gold coin in as he did, there will be bounty of $75 in Fratelli’s gift certificates, as well as some legal tender paper, and other assorted valuable invaluables. Likewise here is your poem to help guide you on your quest should you wish to engage: In the mountains the Zunis call their own In the place where the cougar surely roams

sudoku

When you finish these puzzles, bring them to our office at 105 S. 3rd Street, оr take a pic with your phone and email it to gallupjourney@gmail.com. Don’t forget to include your name.

Look to the canyon of milk and honey Whereto at times puddles are muddy

December Master Finishers

Take the channel less traveled Before the stream gravity baffled

Valerie Harrison Henrietta St. Pierre Ashley Panteah Ronald Triplehorn Ana Victorio Atakai Deandra Joi Hoskie Yumiko Masuzawa

It eventually leads to the cave of bear But that would be much too far to dare Low in a simple tree that sounds of rushing water There you will find your hidden fodder.

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Rosie (3 Months Running!)

Enrique Pieras Jaye Smith Stevie P. Alberta Baldwin Maureen Bia (Two Months Running) Priscilla Madrid

Contents 10 Santero Art:

28 Miyamura Patriettes

Father Josh Mayer

Dance Team: Tyler-Brooks Arviso, Nicole Esparza-Hill, Brianna Guerrero

12 What A Nice Surprise: Mislaid Zuni Artists Part 2: Ernie Bulow

53 8 Questions:

Fowler Roberts

54 Event Calendar

36 Two Views Of Life:

14 New Theater In Gallup: A Place For All Voices: Mariya Deykute

Eric Shaw MA.RS, MA.SE, MA.AS

46 We Survived Y2K. Can We Survive 2017 in Health?

Bera Dordoni, N.D.

Contributors:

Publishers:

Managing Editor:

Special Thanks:

Ernie Bulow

Daisy & Jason Arsenault

Aileen McCarthy

Chuck Van Drunen

Chuck & Jenny Van Drunen

Cover Art:

David Conejo-Palacios

Staff:

Sandra McKinney

Sandra McKinney

Fowler Roberts

Andy Stravers

Thanks to Linda Bowlby for her acrylic on canvas.

“Sea of Dreams”

To all of the Art Submissions, we appreciate you sharing your work with the Gallup Journey. We look forward to next year.

January 2017 Issue #150

All Rights Reserved. No articles, photos, illustrations, advertisements, or design elements may be used without expressed written permission from the publisher, Gallup Journey Inc. This publication is distributed with the understanding that the information presented is from many sources, for which there can be no warranty or responsibility by the publisher as to accuracy, originality, or completeness. It is distributed with the understanding that the publisher is not engaged in making product endorsements, recommending health care or treatments, providing instruction, or recommending that any reader participate in any activity or behavior described in the publication.

The opinions of the contributors to this publication belong to them and do not reflect the opinions of the editors or publishers.

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Gallup Journey Magazine 505-722-3399 105 S. 3rd Street PO Box 2187 gallupjourney.com gallupjourney@gmail.com

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January 2017

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Inside of Adan Carriaga’s oratory, which features many wonderful works of art from active Santeros Santeros and and their their forefathers forefathers

By Father Josh Mayer

Santero Art Experiencing A Period Of Renewed Vitality

Green, red, Christmas (not the holiday)… Piñons and Frito pie and biscochitos… Route 66 and UFOs, Pueblo dances and throws… New Mexico is the proud home to a plethora of beloved local traditions and customs. Add to that list our own unique form of religious folk art, one that is lately experiencing a period of renewed vitality: Santero art.

The Santero tradition springs from devout Catholic piety around the relationship of the believer and the Saints, or Santos. We Catholics believe that the Saints are our older brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ, and, through our shared communion in the Living God, we are intimately connected to each other. We look to the Saints for help and guidance on our earthly journey, and they take care of us in all sorts of ways.

They are the friends of Christ and our friends too.

We keep photographs of our family, our friends and our loved ones, in picture frames, in scrapbooks and on Facebook. Images of those we love help us maintain a relationship, especially in our hearts.

Since most of the Saints that are popular in the Southwest died centuries ago, artists have long found other ways to remember their Saintly friends by creating visible reminders of our spiritual family.

The origins of Santero art can be traced back to the arrival of the Spanish in New Mexico and Colorado some 400 years ago. As the Europeans travelled north through modern-day Mexico, the soldiers, friars, and settlers brought their cultural and religious practices with them, including their religious art. Spanish religious art included items for public worship and personal devotion: crucifixes, chalices, vestments, and other instruments of the Mass, plus images of Christ, the Blessed Virgin, and other Saints for whom they had particular fondness.

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Spanish conquest of the Southwest came and went in phases. Most religious artifacts from the period of “Nueva España” were lost or destroyed during the Pueblo Revolts of 1680. The Spanish returned soon after and reestablished rule for a time.

Catholic piety flourished in many towns and villages in Northern New Mexico and Southern Colorado, both in the presence of the Spanish and in their absence. There was a growing need for images that would foster and give focus to religious devotion.

The Santero tradition rose as a response to this need.

Using Spanish art as their model, local artists began to create their own depictions of Christ and the Saints, inventing their own techniques as they went along. Europeans had access to specialized oil paints and metals such as silver and bronze; Southwestern artists had to make do with what their own

environment offered them or what they could attain by trade. Pigments were made from plants, minerals, and even boiled insects. Early on, the common canvas was buffalo hide; later Santeros (the artists who make Santos) painted on or carved into indigenous wood, such as juniper. Homemade gessos and pine sap varnishes were introduced. Stamped tin, known locally as “the poor man’s silver,” made its way into the Santero tradition as a replacement for the precious metals used in Spanish religious art. A uniquely Southwestern artistic tradition, with a uniquely Southwestern religious spirit, began to develop.

Over the years, different sub-traditions of Santero art have developed. Santos come in different shapes, sizes, and forms. Some are painted for liturgical purposes, such as the incredible altar screens found in the Catholic Churches at Laguna, San Lorenzo,

San Miguel Arcangel Retablo by Adan Carriaga, Tin by Jason Baca

San Marin de Porres Retablo by Adan Carriaga

and Chimayo. Some are portable, meant to travel with the devotee or to adorn the home. These smaller Santos are the most popular today. The two main forms of smaller Santos are retablos and bultos.

Retablos are two-dimensional depictions of Jesus or the Saints, usually painted onto hand-carved wood panels. Bultos are three-dimensional wood-carvings.

Today, the art form is thriving and the tradition is being passed on, both through family lines and through other types of apprenticeship, such as the Escuelita Santo Niño de Atocha out of the Sawmill area of Albuquerque. Santeros and Santeras can be found all over the state, working with paint, wood, and tin, using much of the same techniques and tools as their predecessors have for the past 400 years. Adan Carriaga, who is both a carver of bultos and painter of retablos, began as a student at the Escuelita Santo Niño. Now, he passes on the tradition to others by apprenticing them in their craft. He sees this as a duty, entrusted to him by Alcario Otero, one of the founding members of the Escuelita. “Once Alcario Otero retired, he told me, ‘I will teach you how to carve only if you teach others when you have learned and keep the school going.’ I have done my best to do so and someday hope to pass it on to someone else when I am older and my eyesight or something prevents me from continuing.”

The tradition continues as it began – both devotional and artistic in essence, the religious impetus of the art inseparable from the final product, and in its beauty and purpose. Artistic depictions of the Jesus in His Passion, or as the Santo Niño, as well as the most popular Saints and Angels in the Southwest – the Virgin Mary (often as Our Lady of Sorrows or the Virgin of Guadalupe), the Archangels Michael, Gabriel and Raphael, St. Joseph, St. Anthony of Padua, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Jude, St. Pasqual the Kitchen Saint, and many more – are painted, carved, and prayed with every day in New Mexico.

Jason Baca, a tinsmith and aspiring bulto-carver from Albuquerque, considers his art to be essentially religious and relational. “As I work,” he says, “I'm creating art that I hope and pray brings glory and

honor to God by shining the light on Christ.”

According to Jason, Santero art is evangelical in character: “I always pray that everyone who lays eyes on my work will be influenced by God, to think about their relationship with Jesus Christ. And if they're not currently a believer, I pray that as they see my work; it unlocks Jesus in their heart through their eyes, the window to the soul.”

Adan also connects deeply to the spiritual dimension of his vocation. “Being a Santero is simple for me,” he says. “It is my contribution to humanity and my way of spreading the Gospel of Our Lord Jesus. I hope that when someone looks at my work, somehow they are inspired to think about God and the life after. Even if just for a minute it inspired contemplation, then I see it as a successful piece of art.”

New Mexicans tend to do things with our own flavor, rooted in our deep and varied cultural traditions. It should come as no surprise that we have our own particular styles of religious devotion and artistic expression. The art of the Santero is an outpouring of the religious soul, attempting to make visible, through a uniquely Southwestern language, our relationship with Christ and his friends, the Saints. In retablos and bultos and tinworks, through wood and sap and pollen and paint, from the hands and hearts of artists whose spirits have been forged in prayer, the reality of the invisible world is brought before our eyes. This is the work of the Santero and the Santera; they are scrap bookers, so to speak, of our Divine Family.

Each year, the Santeros gather several times to greet friends old and new and to offer their work for sale. You can find them and their art at the Santa Fe Spanish Market each Summer, at the Winter Market in Albuquerque, and here in Gallup at the Sacred Heart Cathedral Spanish Market, each year on the weekend leading up to the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus (for 2017: June 16th – 18th). Come and meet the artists and get acquainted with the great Santero tradition – our own artistic expression of the Body of Christ that’s as New Mexican as eating fry bread and green chile while taking a ride in a hot air balloon!

Alma de Maria Retablo by Adan Carriaga

Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe Bulto by Adan Carriaga January 2017

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In the decade “She told us what to between 1920paint, and how to 1930, artists paint it. She wanted in Europe us to use “traditional” and America pigments, instead of suddenly paint. You know, dirt. discovered It just didn’t work.” “primitive” In the updated art and sought version of her book to promote Southwest Indian it - some say Painting, Clara Lee exploit it - and Tanner comments bring it to a on the “meticulous” greater public. detail in the altar The artists paintings of a Zuni in Taos and she calls Lawasewa, their friends dated in the late all pitched twenties. About the in, making same time, there was speeches, an outcry in Zuni printing over the paintings of pamphlets, Teddy Weahkee, on organizing the grounds he was shows, and exposing “secret” 1923 saw the religious information birth of the to the White Man. Anglos have a hard THE CHARLIE CHUYATE BUFFALO PAINTING Indian Arts Fund. time understanding ONE OF TONY EDAAKIE’S MURALS The Natives of New Mexico had mixed feelings about this attention, partly what is sacred and SHOWING THE WATER DAMAGE because there was push-back in the Pueblos - people who were still trying to why. Many years avoid Anglo attention as much as possible. But money always wins out. ago I kept asking a In the Thirties there were a number of murals funded that put Indian Art in certain old man to tell me stories. He kept saying he couldn’t because it wasn’t the public arena. Some were done in D.C. government offices, banks, schools, the season. Eventually I said, “Not sacred stories, stories of your life.” He looked and motels. The murals Tony Edaakie did for Wallace in his Albuquerque at me for a time and then said, “All stories are sacred,” and he walked away. motel are disintegrating. The murals have gotten their own set of lawyers.

Because of the prohibition, fewer Zunis painted than at any other Pueblo or I have a story about one such mural. My wife Nannette was from Brigham tribe. Navajos were fighting over sand painting designs in weaving, Hopis over City, Utah, katsina dolls. where the Religious “OH YES, I REMEMBER THAT ALLAN HOUSER MURAL. WE Intermountain subjects were HAD IT PAINTED OVER WHITE TO GIVE THE ROOM MORE LIGHT.” creeping Indian School was located. into Zuni The great Apache sculptor, Allan Houser, was teaching art jewelry as inlay became more and more popular. Anglos there, and a local bank commissioned Houser to create a say that the depiction of Rainbow Man and Knifewing was mural on one huge wall. Nannette wanted to see it again. widespread because they were not holy figures. That is not When we entered the bank the walls were blank. We true. Traders like C. G. Wallace simply bullied Zunis into asked a teller what happened to the painting. She didn’t producing these pieces. know what we were talking about and passed us on to an Art historians can’t explain why there was so little older employee. He looked up at the great blank space Zuni painting in the first half of the last century. Even and thought about it for a minute, “Oh, yes, I remember more problematic, it is almost impossible to identify that. We had it painted over with white to give the room most artists. Partly this was because they hid their more light.” Of course, more light. names, partly because there was so little public art, it Dorothy Dunn started her experimental studio was not documented at the time. Dorothy Dunn, chief at the Santa Fe Indian School in 1932, and in 1933 the proponent of Native Art, gives these names: Pyler, U. S. Government funded it, giving official recognition to Newmi, Lawasewa, Lamina, Hiuwa, and Bessetola.

Indian Painting. One Congressman said he wouldn’t want Quetaque, and Cheyati. I was told that Lawasewa was to buy a painting by an Indian of three apples on a plate. the jeweler Frank Vacit.

Dunn was immensely important in breaking down I came across the name Paylem Chyattie which is walls, but she had her own ideas about what “Indian” incoherent. Then I saw it spelled Palen Cheyati. This art should look like. She steered her students away from was probably Alex Seowtewa’s uncle, called Patone realistic images on the grounds that it was too Anglo.

Cheyattie in Clara Lee Tanner’s book. There is virtually A GRADE-SCHOOL EFFORT BY no record of Patone Chuyate, but he was brother of I once talked to Narciso Abeyta (Ha-So-De) about his experience there. “She was a little crazy,” he told me.

Charlie Chuyate who was another early artist.

DEWEY LEEKELA

12 January 2017

Ernie’s First Selfie

by Ernie Bulow

the images was 1936, but some are earlier. The little paintings were not signed, but someone had penciled first names on the back of some of them. Sam Poblano was the only one I was fairly sure of.

I had interviewed Sam several times when I was writing about him for the 2012 Ceremonial Magazine so I took the album to him. It was a happy surprise for him to see the drawings again after so many years.

He credited them to the encouragement of Clara Gonzales. “She kept them secret from the medicine chiefs,” he told me. He spent time in her room after school doing chores.

Clara Gonzales came from the Bayou country of Louisiana. She started teaching at the Zuni Day School in 1923 and by 1930 she was principal. When Zuni schools broke from the BIA in 1955, she was made Area Superintendent. When the Secretary of Interior gave her an important award in 1961, he said DIXON SHEBALA PAINTING she was the first woman ever employed by the Interior SHOWING SOPHISTICATED Department.

TECHNIQUE The young artists identified by Sam Poblano included several veterans of WWII, including Dewey Leekela and Dempsey Chopito, who was held as a prisoner of war. Sam claimed Dempsey helped him with his moonshine business. There was Billy Weahkee, Johnny Cheama, Hilda Halale and Martha Chavez, who was raised by Teddy Weahkee. There is ELEAN LESSARLEY SPIDER WOMAN DRAWING also a mysterious Roland we couldn’t identify.

The next Zuni artist who achieved fame outside the FROM SCHOOL ARTS MAGAZINE 1935 village seems to be Dixon Shebala. He was the son of the famous potter Josephine Nahohai. When she Some Zunis remember Charlie Chuyate as a very large was married to Jerry Shebola, she was making prizeman whose presence dominated a group. They say he winning jewelry. always dressed like a working cowboy, which Dixon got his art education at the Santa Fe Indian he was. Apparently he had large herds of cattle and sheep, School, taking his style from the representational figures though some say they all belonged to others and he just recognized as “Indian” art, but working his way to A DIXON SHEBALA PLATE WITH took care of them. He is only incidentally the father of wonderfully abstract oils. Though he switched to A HILILI DANCER, ONE OF the master painter Alex Seowtewa. jewelry for his bread and butter income, he continued SEVERAL IN A SERIES Charlie was also a largely undocumented artist, to paint, work in ceramics and be one of those multiand though the family has some of his pieces, they talented Zunis who amaze the outside world. didn’t want to share them. Charlie’s family started the His plates were commissioned and produced by Buffalo as it appears in dances today, and the katsina Aggie Ortega (of the vast and influential Ortega (koko in Zuni) dates back to the days when Zunis family, going back to the 1600s), who had a trading still traveled to the plains to hunt buffalo. It is one of post at Lupton, N.M. Zunis nicknamed him several family owned kokos that does not belong to a “Sitting Bull”. He was a brother of Gilbert and particular kiva.

Armond.

There are paintings by Paul Edaakie, the middle name Dixon was one of the multi-talented Zunis who of Anthony Edaakie, who continued to paint. In the did it all; probably best known for his fabulous early group there is a tantalizing name. Dorothy Dunn inlay figures. The late Preston Mahke lived with says of Eleen Lesarlley that her paintings of Zuni women Dixon for a time and told me what a generous man were, “done in a static, decorative style with intricate he was. He would give help and advice to young detail.” I had already seen the name in a 1935 issue of jewelers, and sometimes designs. Preston did a School Arts Magazine. The black and white picture figure of a horse head in a horseshoe that Dixon shows “Spider Woman” at a loom. The figure looks designed for him. like a female ogre katsina. In the same issue she draws Dixon died young and under mysterious the Hero Twins, labeled the “Twin Great Warriors”. I circumstances when he wandered away from the assumed the drawings were done in a school away from hospital.

Zuni, but where she was is not identified.

A few years ago a binder of children’s drawings came into my hands. The person who found the album thought it was from the Santa Fe school, but I could see - ernie@buffalomedicine.com A DIXON SHEBALA PAINTING IN that the subject matter was all Zuni. The only date on THE TRADITIONAL STYLE January 2017

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By Mariya Deykute

New Theater in Gallup: A place for all Voices

Leo Loginov Katz

Mariya Deykute

14 January 2017

“I love you.”

“I hate you.”

“I…what else is there?”

“What else is there? Anyone? What other emotions move through us?”

“Sympathy! Indifference! Dislike! Need! Passion!

Sleep?!”

The small classroom room erupts in laughter.

This is one of the weekly Tohatchi Drama Club workshops, and the dozen students and teachers are hard at work brainstorming. They are working on “Romeo & Juliet”, trying to figure out what motivates the characters in the story, and what the characters themselves feel about the events of the play. The result: a musical subversion of Shakespeare’s tragic ending – the rebellion of characters against the plot.

This is the true power of theater: to give voice to all; to retell well-loved stories, and to create the unexpected.

I’ve loved theater since I was a little girl led into a performance of the Moscow Ballet by my mother.

Imagine yourself with me. All around you is the anticipation of the curtain rising. In your hand is the handbill. As you take your seat, you sense the rustle backstage of last checks for cues and the collective last breath before the show begins. The curtain rises.

A world comes alive. You surrender to the story unfolding before your eyes. When you leave that night, you will carry not just the crumpled handbill in your hand. You will carry a word, a song, a dance, that spoke to you, and that made the story real.

However, there is more to theater than the curtain, or the traditional play. At its core, there is no art form as inclusive, as multidisciplinary, as communitybuilding as live theater. Theater is for everyone: the painter who designs and creates sets; the actor who performs a part; the musician who writes the score; the stagehands who complete all the unseen necessities; the audience who also become part of the show because of their involvement in the story.

Theater brings together a multitude of cultures, talents, and personalities.

I met with Leo Loginov Katz through a theater production he directed and in which I acted. It led us to collaborate on our first original production of a musical in Boston. Leo Loginov Katz is an acclaimed theater director and virtuoso musician. His theater in the Soviet Union was the first theater that allowed teenagers to speak their minds onstage. He has taught acting and directed shows internationally. For many years, he was the musical director at Paul Newman’s Hole in the Wall Gang Camp in Connecticut, helping children find their voices in the most trying circumstances. He has written and directed plays, musicals, showcases, and gala performances, and he has worked with immigrants, Hollywood stars, innercity youth, and acclaimed musicians.

When we first arrived in Gallup, our initial impulse was to get involved in the theater community in the town. However, we quickly discovered that while Gallup had an amazing community, it did not have its own theater. Naturally, we decided to start one. Both of us believe that theater not only provides entertainment and celebrates culture, it transforms lives and empowers communities through making all individual voices and stories valuable. It is this philosophy of inclusion that we bring to our theater classes in Gallup.

Last spring we started small, working with the students and staff at Tohatchi High School. The result: “Romeo & Juliet: Variations on a Theme” debuted last March during the monthly Arts Crawl.

Working with the students and teachers only convinced us that Gallup has plenty of voices that must be heard.

Thankfully, the new manager of El Morro Theater, Jennifer Lazarz, saw potential in this community as well. The El Morro Theater has graciously provided us with rehearsal and performance space, as well as outreach in the community for our new theater.

In December of last year, Tohatchi students once again took to the stage, along with “The El Morro Performance Group” in “The Snow Queen”, a Christmas tale based on the story of Hans Christian

Leo and Mariya rehearsing Andersen. In the spring, we are looking to stage a full-length play at El Morro, while the Tohatchi Drama Club is excited to take on a play by a Diné playwright – a production funded in part by the Johnson-O’Malley Program.

We believe that we are at the beginning stages of Gallup’s very own theater, and while these beginnings are humble, “The El Morro Performance Group” has ambitious plans. We want to create a community repertoire theater that will showcase the best Gallup and the surrounding communities have to offer, and that will draw in talent, culture, and experience from the surrounding communities as well. We want a theater that will tell the stories of this region, as well as bring in well-known plays and motifs. And we want to invite you to be a part of it.

We are offering a series of workshop classes for anyone interested in theater, starting in February 2017, going into the end of April. During the workshops the participants can try their hand at all aspects of theater, from acting, singing, movement, to set design and management. When the time comes around for

a performance or showcase, the individual can choose what speaks to them most at that point in the process.

We believe that all voices in Gallup and its surrounding communities are important and deserve to be heard. We want to hear your stories played out in the workshop. We want to know about your artistic talents. We want to know about the traditions your families keep and how we can represent them on stage. Most of all, we want to invite you to play, have fun, and create stories with us.

Enter the theater. Become part of the performance. There is a place for you here!

El Morro Performance Group At the El Morro Theater Classes begin February 2017 Date and Time TBD For inquiries, please call Jennifer Lazarz at The El Morro Theater at (505) 726-7550 Or email: elmorroperformance@gmail.com

Rehearsal at El Morro Theatre January 2017

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By Jamy Malone

It's Time to Go I stood outside the classroom door in the hot, stifling hallway as I waited. The air around me crackled, just like that splitmoment when lightening streaks across the sky and hits the ground with a deafening explosion. The excitement from the kids knowing that it was Friday and the end of the school week was almost palpable; it made the air electric. I admit I wasn’t soaking in the excitement like a sponge; rather I was more focused on all the work I needed to get done over the weekend. I knew I was going to be “as busy as a beaver” like my daughter always said. Although as I stood in the “furnace”, the school had the audacity to call a hallway, I realized that I never really understood that phrase. What did beavers do every day that made them so busy? Were their lives really that overwhelmed with work? Did they have to deal with bosses from hell like we had to?

As these thoughts floated around in my head, I suddenly heard the teacher happily –

a little too happily if you ask me – say to the kids in her class, “It’s time to go! Get packed up everyone!” As those words reached my ears, a wave of panic washed over me and the hot stuffy hallway started to fade away from around me. It was like traveling through a cloud of fog, cold with a touch of dampness that raised goosebumps on my arms. As much as I tried, it refused to release its hold on me and prevented me from returning back to the present. Finally, the air cleared, and I was in a sterile, bright white hospital room.

It had been almost ten years since I was last here. The fear that I thought I had overcome years ago suddenly threatened to overwhelm me. It started to suffocate me like someone was holding a pillow over my face. I could taste its bitter, slightly metallic flavor in my mouth. I had just enough sense left in me to realize that I was on the verge of having a complete and total panic attack. Just as I thought I was about to lose control, I heard a

sound and looked up as a pretty blonde nurse in dark green scrubs and white Nike shoes entered the room and say to me, “It’s time to go.”

I stared at her, not quite comprehending what she was saying. Time to go? Go where?

The nurse came over to the hospital bed I was sitting on and said she needed to check my vitals. She removed her stethoscope from around her neck and pulled her blood pressure cuff from one of the large pockets across the front of her scrubs. I obediently held one arm out to her so she could take my blood pressure. She smiled at me and asked how the baby was doing. That feeling of terror filled my chest again. Baby?? What baby??

I saw the nurse look to the other side of my bed and my gaze followed hers. There was a small plastic bin next to my bed with a pink blanket and a name card on the side that said, “Baby Girl Malone.” I looked over the edge of the plastic bin and there, wrapped up like a little pink burrito, was a baby girl staring

Taken in Canyon De Chelly, Chinle, AZ, By Erika Powers 16 January 2017

up at me with big, brown eyes. Her tiny pink and white striped hat covered her head, and I could only see her sweet little face sticking out from her burrito-blanket-wrappings.

I slowly reached into the bin and lifted the little bundle into my arms. I stared at her with awe. I had made a perfect tiny human being and she was mine. I was amazed. There was an extremely fine layer of soft peach fuzz across her cheeks, I could see the tiny blue veins hiding under her delicate skin, and her eyes were a milk-chocolatey brown with a slightly darker ring around her pupils.

I gently smelled her neck and felt slightly intoxicated by her warm, rich scent. I couldn’t place my finger on what it was exactly, but I knew it was unique to her. It was a fragrance I would often search for as I nuzzled her neck throughout the coming years. I rubbed my face against her warm cheek, and I couldn’t believe how soft it was, velvety like the petals from the yellow roses that used to grow in my father’s backyard when I was a child. She made a little grumbling sound as if to complain about my cold cheek brushing against hers. I smiled. She was already just like me, complaining about everything. As I studied her tiny face, she gazed thoughtfully back at me, and in her eyes, I could see her contemplating whether I was worthy or not.

How could I possibly answer that unspoken question? I was barely one month past my 20th birthday, still just a kid myself. How could anyone actually expect me to take care of another human being, especially one so small??! For a moment I couldn’t breathe.

Fear, again, washed over me like a tidal wave.

Photo by Michelle Sanchez

Photo by Michelle Sanchez “It’s time to go,” the nurse announced once more, standing behind a wheelchair.

Shock reverberated through my body. She couldn’t be serious. Didn’t she know that I had absolutely no clue what to do with the tiny infant in my arms? That I had no experience whatsoever to help guide me? There was no way this woman could trust me to leave the hospital with a baby! Yet, as our eyes made contact and she smiled encouragingly at me, I could see that’s exactly what she was expecting me to do.

My heart felt like it was in a vice, my lungs couldn’t seem to fill with air, and I started to get lightheaded. All at once I heard a soft sigh. I looked down and the baby in my arms let out a little yawn, looked up at me one

more time, and then closed her eyes to drift off to sleep, as if she had made up her mind that she could trust me to care for her, to provide for her, to keep her safe, and to love her the way she deserved. The nurse gazed at me patiently, yet expectantly, and I knew what I had to do. I snuggled the baby close to my chest, got into the wheelchair, and rode the elevator down to the hospital lobby. As the nurse stopped at the front door and set the brakes on the wheelchair, I smiled down at my baby girl and stood up. With my little one secured firmly in my arms, I was finally ready to take that first step into the big, bright, scary world. I took a deep breath and stepped through the doors. It was time to go.

I was jolted back to the present, as small thin arms suddenly wrapped around my waist. I was back in that sweltering hallway standing just outside the classroom door. I gazed down in wonder at the little smiling face staring up at me. “Hi Mama!” said Baby Girl Malone. I gently brushed my fingers against her soft cheek and then pulled her close. She hugged me once more, pressing her cheek against my stomach, and then darted swiftly back into her classroom, laughing and calling out to her friends about how much fun they all planned to have over the weekend. I was no longer worried about trying to get work done over the weekend.

In fact, work was the furthest thing from my mind. Instead, as I watched her dance across the room, I struggled to push down, to bury that small twinge of doubt, that tiny bit of terror that was still nestled deep in my heart, as if hiding it could somehow prevent all my fears from coming true. I still wasn’t sure if I was worthy, but somehow this little human being had decided to put her trust and faith in me. I couldn’t let her down. I wouldn’t let her down.

January 2017

17

By Caroline Lisko

The Dream of Generations

For as long as I can remember, Dad would, on occasion, read to us at bedtime (Susannah, Annemarie, and myself, and eventually Naomi, too). Mom would read us our year’s literature, but on the nights that she was tired, or out, or we had read all that we needed to, Dad would read to us.

Ah, there were so many great books – The Hardy Boys, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Great Expectations,

A Tale of Two Cities, Les Misérables.

The last three were, of course, very much abridged versions.

I was reminded again of Les Mis when we went to the theatre to see Lincoln in November of 2012 and they showed a preview. I seem to remember seeing Fantine (Anne Hathaway) being thrown out of the factory where she worked, and Éponine (Samantha Barks) walking sadly

“Wildbrush", Acrylic on Canvas, By Linda Bowlby 18 January 2017

in the rain. In the back of my head, I thought, I want to see t his someday.

Then, last December, for one reason or another, I got interested in Eddie Redmayne’s movies. So, since I’d already watched The Theory of Everything earlier that year, in March, Les Misérables was naturally the movie I went for – in a big way.

When I picked up the copy of the movie off our bookshelf the night I was going to watch it (finally!), I said laughingly to Susannah, “I used to be such a nerdy elementary-schooler that I’d try to pronounce the title out.” And here I am again. I haven’t lost my touch. Once something really wins your heart, there’s no going back.

When I sat down to watch the movie, all I had to go on was Dad’s reading of the Stepping Stones Classics version, which he’d read to us more than ten years earlier.

And since I loved the movie, the book Les Misérables has become a great part of my life. In the movie I loved Marius Pontmercy as portrayed by Eddie Redmayne, and Enjolras as portrayed by Aaron Tveit; and, in my tenth-grade reading-through of the un-abridged “Brick”, Marius and Enjolras remain two of my favorite characters.

It delights me to think that Dad was the person who first introduced me to Enjolras…One night in Annemarie and Susannah’s room in Gallup, Dad read to me the Stepping Stones’ description of him, which reads simply: “Enjolras, their leader.” Now as a teenager staying up till past midnight on a Friday night, reading the 1200 and some-odd page unabridged copy, the description reads: “We have named Enjolras first, and the reason for this will be seen later. He was the only son of wealthy parents, a charming young man who was capable of being a terror…” and it lasts a full page. This, and much else, as I read, thrills my heart at the prospect that, in a way, I’m turning the same hallowed pages, learning the same immortal story, reading the same very words that Dad read to me more than ten years ago.

Thank you, Dad for introducing me to a world I’ll never forget – for being the one who introduced me to the Dream.

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January 2017

19

By Gwen Wilson

My Adventure in Burkina Faso When I told folks that I was going to Burkina Faso, with very few exceptions, they looked mystified. Burkina Faso? Is that a country?

Where is it? Why are you going there?

Burkina Faso is a country in West Africa bordered

by Ghana, Togo, Benin, Niger, Mali, and Cote d'Ivoire.

It was a French colony until 1960 and was called Upper Volta until 1984. The official language is French but there are a number of different languages spoken by the various ethnic groups in the country. Burkina Faso is one of the poorest countries in the world. 45% of the population lives on less than $1.25 a day. It is the size of Colorado and has a population of 18 million with more than 52% of the population less than 18 years of age. The country has few natural resources and limited infrastructure. The educational system, especially in the rural areas, is marginal. It is definitely not a vacation

hot spot. The reason I decided to go there was to travel with my cousin, Sarah Crews, and to visit her daughter, Ruby, who is a Peace Corps volunteer in a small rural community. I love an adventure and a trip to Burkina Faso certainly qualified as an adventure.

The first thing that I had to do was master the pronunciation of the capital of the country, Ouagadougou (/wäɡəˈdo͞oɡo͞o/). I did not see a lot of the capital, but what I did see was incredible traffic with bikes and motorbikes and buses and old taxis, all zooming about on mostly dirt roads filled with pot holes of varying size and depth. It took an act of courage to cross main streets. Many of the streets were lined with vendors in makeshift stalls, selling all manner of items from tires, appliances, and tools to clothes and produce. My cousin, her daughter, and I wandered the streets looking at the sights and eating street meat, usually goat cooked

Young woman selling caterpillars in the market.

20 January 2017

over charcoal, with a side of flies. Children dashed about all wanting to shake our hands.

The trek to the rural village where Ruby lives requires a day and a half on buses. Our first stop was the town of Bobo and a visit to the market there.

The array of beautiful fabrics sold in the market and worn by all the women were a sight to behold. I was fascinated by the dried caterpillars sold by a number of the vendors. As adventuresome as I am, I could not bring myself to eat a caterpillar. A bus then took us to a small community along the road where we caught a bush taxi to the village. Along the way several of the passengers had to exit the van to push it out of a water-filled pothole. It is rather amazing how many people can fit into a van with four bench seats. After a ride on one bush taxi, I counted 45 people exiting the van. The roof of the bush taxis are piled with belongings, as well as people, and occasionally even a cow is hoisted onto the roof.

Our arrival in the village of Tako where Ruby lives was heralded with singing, clapping, and dancing by the women. We were seated on chairs beside the village chief under a huge mango tree and each given a calabash full of a fermented millet drink called dolo.

I will not try to describe the flavor, but I managed to drink all that was in my calabash because the entire village was watching. We were then given a bottle of soda followed by a healthy shot of rum. All the while the women continued to sing and dance and laugh.

We were escorted to Ruby's two room house where a meal was waiting for us. The staple of the local diet consists of To', which is boiled corn flour served with a sauce made with leaves, dried fish, peanuts, spices, and tomato paste. I did not acquire a taste for it, but Ruby, who consumes it nearly daily, likes it. The kindness and generosity of the people in the village was overwhelming. In this small village there was nothing to purchase aside from a few food items cooked over open fires by the local women and gasoline sold in old bottles to the motorbike drivers. A market is held in a nearby village every 5th day. The nearest place to purchase toilet paper is a three hour bus ride away.

Villagers in Tako at the welcoming celebration Several of my girlfriends helped me fill a suitcase with supplies for the local primary school. The items were presented to the school director in the presence of several of the important members of the village.

It was almost an embarrassing experience because I brought only a suitcase full of supplies and yet the school director was effusive in his thanks, saying this was more than they could have even imagined.

Among the items was a National Geographic world map. It was a source of fascination since most of the villagers had never seen a map. They wanted to see where Burkina Faso was and where Sarah, Ruby, and I were from. The chief was especially intrigued by a poster of the planets, and I could see him studying the poster and then looking up at the heavens and trying to comprehend the whole concept. It is difficult to imagine teachers working with almost no resources, but that is the reality for the educators in Tako. Sadly, books are a rare commodity.

Ruby, Sarah, and I had a chance to do some traveling around the western part of the country.

In the markets I was sometimes a source of terror for the young children who had never seen a white woman. As with traveling anywhere, one must always make good choices, but I never felt afraid or uncomfortable. Ruby was an excellent translator and tour guide. She has had an amazing experience as a Peace Corps volunteer in a country that few people here have even heard of, let alone visited.

I felt it was a privilege to be welcomed into her village and to meet her friends. As a Peace Corps volunteer, Ruby is serving as an ambassador of the American people, and I know her presence in the small village of Tako will leave a lasting impression.

Should you wish to donate to a charity to benefit the people of Burkina Faso, Ruby recommends Plan International, Friends of African Village Libraries, or donating directly to Peace Corps projects in Burkina Faso. All of those organizations have made a positive impact on the people of Burkina Faso.

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21

By Rose Eason

The Shallow Gallery in Depth Shallow Gallery was cast in red light as the statement NO MORE EXPOSURE DEATHS was emblazoned in bold letters across the wall, set against the repeating pattern of beer bottles for which the “Budweiser” logo was replaced with the word “Genocide”.

The Shallow Gallery is a project of Working out of Flagstaff, Diné artist Klee gallupARTS, Gallup’s arts council and Benally’s work focuses on environmental 501(c)3 arts nonprofit (which also brings issues, and what he terms, “Indigenous you ArtsCrawl and ART123 Gallery sacred land” issues. For his Shallow Gallery among other community-based art show, titled Avenging the Animas, he used programs). Since May of last year, Orlando film, installation art, and graphic design Walker, a local Navajo/Zuni artist and to problematize the Gold King Mine gallupARTS Board Vice President, has environmental disaster. Benally also invited managed and curated the Gallery. In the visitors to leave offerings at an alter, paying last eight months, he has reinvented the homage to Native rights activists, and to Gallery as a cutting-edge and experimental take a poster promoting the cause of climate space, featuring rising-star, innovative, and justice (along with instructions for making contemporary Indigenous artists from across wheat paste for hanging it up at a later time the continent. The new generation of Native and place). Of his work, Benally says, “My artists showing at the Shallow Gallery brings art is action and aims to create strategic fresh voices, different perspectives, and a interventions that are proactive with the whole lot of style to Gallup. objective of empowering Indigenous people The artists presented at the Shallow and defending Mother Earth.”

Gallery are socially engaged, addressing While the artists showing at the Shallow issues relevant to the wider Gallup Gallery are motivated by various causes, community through different approaches. they all have the desire to create dialogue Some tackle stereotypes, biases and the (as around Indigenous issues in common. typically told) one-dimensional historical Likewise, Walker, himself, is motivated narrative in beautiful and subtle ways. by a determination to “provide a platform Such is the case with Toronto-based for artists to share their visions, their Haudenosaunee artist Monique Bedard voices and talents with our community (a.k.a. Aura). Aura’s mixed media portraits, and surrounding areas. Not everyone has which combine painting, drawing, collage, access to the internet or social media, on and beadwork, are created to reclaim which most modern work is presented indigenous identity. “There have been so and featured. My goal is to showcase such many times people in our communities have artwork to the public, so anyone can see been misrepresented or seen in a negative the possibility of making a living doing light,” she says. “It is my goal to create what you love. I want aspiring artists to portraits of people in a good way.” feel welcome to exhibit with us."

Others take a more activist approach, drawing attention to specific situations and Keep up to date with the Shallow Gallery events affecting Indigenous communities on Instagram @shallow_gallery or on the in provocative ways. Jemez artist Jacque gallupARTS webpage, Fragua, from LA, created a visually www.galluparts.org. stunning immersive installation to decry the drastically high rate of exposure deaths in Gallup. For an entire month, the The Shallow Gallery, located downtown on Coal Avenue, is Gallup’s smallest gallery, occupying about 30 square feet of space. But it is not to be underestimated.What the Shallow Gallery lacks in size, it makes up for in punch.

22 January 2017

"Here’s to good women, may we know them, may we be them, may we raise them."

11" x 15" Mixed Media on Watercolor Paper,

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"What Would Larry Casuse Do?" Acrylic Painting & Glue, By Klee Benally, Diné

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24 January 2017

Equal Housing Opportunity

Candle In The Night

Slowly, gently, went the smooth incision. Soon what was once foggy would be clear. The smiles on her grandchild’s face would be a treasure to behold, and all because of this wondrous, ordinary procedure called cataract removal. “Count backwards from 100,” she had been told before the surgery, and she knew when the anesthesia wore off she would be in a world where colors were brighter, letters were more clear, and clothing was visible.

After her surgery she sat and listened intently to her doctor. Her husband Duke was with her and she could hear him asking questions. The doctor was replying, but she could only hear a few words at a time. “That’s strange,” she thought. “Why is this happening?” She could hear, but her mind didn’t want to listen. Tears welled in her eyes as she heard, “tragic accident”, “We did our best”, “gradual blindness”, “possibly irreversible!”.

“MY GOD,” she thought, “wake up! I am in a nightmare….wake up.”

But it wasn’t a nightmare. The months passed as she went through the stages of grief, denial, then anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. Easy enough to list, but extremely difficult to live through. Now she would pray, “Dear lord, I don’t ask that you take this affliction from me. Rather, that you give me the strength to see it through.” Mary Ann (Armijo) and Duke would sit, holding hands and talking about life. “Duke,” she would say, “you must be my sight.” And he, knowing that she now lived in a world of only candle light to see by, and devoted as any man can be, would embrace her and agree lovingly. Replying he would answer, “I will be your shelter.”

In time Mary Ann came to deal with the thought that she was gradually losing sight. She knew that one day she would awake to a world of total darkness. She would open her eyes ... and then reopen them ... to nothing. That was when she willed herself to appreciate every visible moment. She began to work beyond what she had ever done.

She gathered hundreds of coats and books for children. She immersed herself in events to improve the community.

She tended to those who had less. She hosted countless functions at her home to raise money for worthy causes.

And when she did this, two things happened - first was the magic of eyesight. Though her eyes were weaker than ours, her appreciation of beauty and people sharpened. She now sees the sunsets and flowers which we obliviously walk by ... too busy to see. She sees the happiness and sadness beyond what we sometimes understand.

And she gained a vision which we don’t appreciate, but the blind and the deaf understand. She can see children longing for their parents attention. She sees sincerity and insincerity. She senses the needs of others. And all of this called her out of her house and into the people and the light. “Let the darkness come when it will,” she said, “for I can see now, as I’ve never seen before.

Mary Ann Armijo …. An Unsung Hero

By David Conejo-Palacios

(Look for more news of Unsung Heroes in the future. And if you know of any, send me the information at: dconejo@rmchcs.org)

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26 January 2017

Walking In Beauty

Physical Therapy Treatments for Whiplash It is that time of year again. Soon the snow will be falling, and ice forming and covering the roadways, sidewalks, and stairs.

Car accidents and falls will happen, but what to do afterwards is always a blur for many people. The effects of whiplash can be very painful and debilitating.

With a quick search on the internet, you can find symptoms of whiplash which can include pain (neck, shoulders, and low back), stiffness, numbness, tingling, dizziness, difficulty concentrating, irritability, sleep disturbances, and fatigue. These symptoms result from damage to the joints, ligaments, and muscles along the entirety of the spine. Symptoms can manifest immediately or up to a couple of days later.

Initially, the acute inflammatory process takes over, causing decreased range of motion, pain, and swelling in the joints and tissues. Physical Therapy modalities such as ice, ultrasound, gentle massage, and electrical stimulation can provide calming relief to the initial pain and inflammation caused by whiplash.

Additionally, starting gentle range of motion exercises, such as rotation and side-bending, can help to keep range of motion free and reduce muscle guarding.

When the acute stage is over, after about seven days, the next stage is the sub-acute stage. At this point, muscle stiffness is at its highest. Physical Therapy modalities used during the acute phase are still appropriate. Stretching, manual therapy, and light strengthening are introduced at this time. The goal is to get those muscles working as normally as possible to provide as much range of motion as possible and hopefully reduce debility.

After two weeks the chronic stage of healing starts. All the above treatments are still being used, but the goal at this time is to return the person to full normal daily function. During this phase, increasing intensity of stretching, strengthening, and manual therapy to improve range of motion and flexibility is the primary treatment focus.

When taking average tissue-healing time into account, a timeframe of 4-6 weeks for muscular injuries and 8-12 weeks for other soft tissue injuries, it can be frustrating. The length of healing will vary person-to-person, but returning to full function is the primary goal of Physical Therapy.

What is important to know is that Physical Therapy can have an immediate impact on the

healing of whiplash. Whether you are coming from the Emergency Room or your Primary Care Physician, a prescription for Physical Therapy will help to calm your symptoms, as well as help to more quickly improve your function.

To learn more information, please contact your local ApexNetwork Physical Therapy clinic in Gallup, NM which is located at 510 E. Maloney, Ste. C, and we may be reached at (505) 488-2615.

Additional locations and services may be found at www.apexnetworkpt.com.

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27

Written by Senior Captains Tyler-Brooks Arviso, Nicole Esparza-Hill, and Brianna Guerrero

MIYAMURA PATRIETTES DANCE TEAM

The Miyamura Patriettes Dance Team has been in existence and under the current leadership since 2014.

We began as a noncompetitive group of dancers, wanting to share our love of dance. Our team has grown into a 5A small group competitive dance team.

In 2015, the Patriettes made Miyamura history by taking the dance team to three competitions around the state and qualifying to attend the New Mexico State Spirit Competition in March. Our team had the opportunity to represent our school for the first time at the state competition for dance. After our first year, we continued into another season of dancing, growing, and improving every step of the way. We also placed higher in the state competition. We are now in our third year of the Miyamura Patriettes Dance team. This year, we will once again be competing in several competitions, as well as continuing on to the state competition.

At the end of the 2016 dance year, our team, the Patriettes, attended the Spirit Festival of Santa Fe competition at St. Michaels High School. We performed a team jazz routine and qualified our entire team to perform at the 2016 Macy’s 90th Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City. Nine out of twelve dancers chose to participate, creating the MHS All-Star Dance Team. After massive fundraising, we booked our flights and prepared for our trip to the Big Apple by learning and practicing our parade choreography. Every dancer learned two dances and two cheers to perform in the parade.

Finally Thanksgiving Break arrived, and we boarded the red eye Jet Blue Flight and landed Saturday morning around 6:00 am, checked in at our hotel, and had our first glimpse of New York. That evening, we had a five hour practice with our whole group.

In total, there were 650 dancers from around the country performing in our group called “The Spirit of America Dancers”. Overall, we practiced over 20 hours within four days, polishing and perfecting our routines. Once the routine was perfect, we set up to explore New York. We visited the 9/ll museum, saw the One-World Trade Center district, rode the Harbor Ferry around the city, took pictures at the Statue of Liberty, ice skated at Rockefeller Center, had a 360° view on Top of the Empire State Building, and shopped at the largest Pink store in the United States. In addition to seeing the sites,

28 January 2017

Photos by RAH photography – Ryan and Ana Hudgeons we watched the famous “Rockettes" at Radio City Music Hall and saw the “Wicked” and “School of Rock” broadway shows. On Thanksgiving Day, we were up at 4:00 am sharp, dressed in full costume and glittery makeup, ready to line up for the most famous parade in history. We walked, danced, cheered, and waved at the 3.5 million spectators for the parade. It was an awesome experience, and we will never forget the fun we had during the trip. We had a great time exploring the big city and meeting different dancers from all around the country.

As seniors on the team, it has been a privilege to be a part of this process of building and growing

a dance team. Being on a team full of girls is a challenge, but we have all managed to make some amazing memories and learn the definition of what it is to be a team. From all-day camp practices in the summer to dancing the fight song at football games, entertaining the crowd at basketball games to performing in the Big Apple, this dance team continues to improve, grow, and create amazing opportunities for the dancers at Miyamura High School. We extend a big thanks to our coaches Kyndee Keeler and Jan Smith.

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30 January 2017

By Colin McCarty

Southwest Indian Foundation Gallup Cultural Center Art Scholarship Since 1968 when Fr. Dunstan Schmidlin started the Southwest Indian Foundation (SWIF), our mission has been to help the Native Americans in the Southwest, not with mere handouts, but by restoring pride and independence. SWIF has always offered aid when true need was present, but has gone beyond that by recognizing the great human potential of each individual and by helping each realize that potential themselves.

In 1996 the City of Gallup asked SWIF if they would take over the Santa Fe Depot to use it as a cultural center. While this may have seemed like a departure from SWIF’s original mission, with great vision, SWIF accepted the offer from the City and created the Gallup Cultural Center (GCC).

For decades SWIF carried out its mission by providing for the physical needs of the southwest Native Americans, while helping individuals and families through hard times to where they could support themselves. In 1996 SWIF got the opportunity to help in a new way: providing for the cultural and educational needs, as well as the physical needs. The GCC acts as headquarters to the many educational and cultural programs sponsored by SWIF. The largest, longest running of these programs is the Annual Art Scholarship and School Awards Program. For the past 17 years, the GCC has partnered with The Reunion of the Masters group, Native American artists from many tribes, and together they have accepted art submissions from students across the southwest, for a chance to win scholarship money to be used towards their art and educational pursuits. To date, SWIF, through the GCC, has awarded over $400,000 in scholarships to young artists. Submissions are accepted from students, kindergarten to 12th grade, divided into 6 categories with 48 winners each year.

Our Special Education category is comprised of special needs students from kindergarten to 12th grade. One of these students is Ezander Benallie.

Ezander is autistic and mostly non-verbal. He responds with either short answers or repeating what is asked. However, once he steps into the art room the smiles come out. I got to see these smiles first hand when he came to the Cultural Center to see his own artwork on the wall with an Honorable Mention ribbon hanging on it. While Ezander

Ezander Benallie accepts an Honorable Mention from Master Artist Baje Whitethorne may always find joy in painting, no matter who sees it, for most students winning an award speaks volumes. It shows the kids that their art is not only for themselves but can be enjoyed by others who see it. Also, the award shows the students that their work is worth something and their efforts have real tangible value. Such a confidence booster can encourage a student to continue pursuing art.

Submissions are due in the middle of November, which gives us enough time to organize and hang all of the artwork in preparation for Art Week.

During Art Week, the Masters come to the GCC to help judge the art and hold free art workshops for all students in the area. Built into the scholarship program is our matching award system. Each award won by a student earns a matching award for that student’s school.

Throughout the year, scholarship winners contact the GCC to use their scholarship money for many different educational purposes. There is nothing more reassuring that we are fulfilling our mission than to hear that one of our winners is using their scholarship money to help attend one of the top art schools in the country.

We look forward to many more years of our Art Scholarship Program to help foster skill and interest in art that will help them throughout their life.

Taken by Valencia Chapito January 2017

31

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32 January 2017

By Mervyn Tilden

Love is making me a believer

"Defiance", Oil on Canvas, By Ashton S. Phillips

How this story ends I don't know, No patience to wait for The One, On to this place I know too well, The only way I know how it is done.

Do my eyes need a check?

A vision in real time, Beautiful as I gaze Rhythm without rhyme.

I see it coming at long last, If I must go through it again, I throw myself at its mercy, Closing my eyes as if it's a sin.

My pounding heart, Love of someone's life, Nervous with sweaty palms, My dreamy future wife?

Like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Fourth of July, I fell in blind belief, I don't know why.

I am in suspense And should close the book But this is something I can't overlook.

Accepting my surroundings, Like on Valentines Day, Wishing that this love, Will never go away.

Can I have this fortune Without a Four Leaf Clover Mercy me oh my stars, Love has won me over…

I can't write the story board or the romantic script, Healing to my inner most being that has now been re-lit.

By David Conejo-Palacios Copyright October 1989

The Town of Dreams There is a town of broken dreams Whose names on streets are strange Some people live on “Might have Been” Some live on “What a Shame”.

Upon the other side of hill Where different folks reside A town with laughter filled There happiness abides.

The one town looks for blame The other builds through perspiration The one seeks cause for shame The other credits inspiration.

The town sleeps in the shadow of a hill Where flowers die on window ledge Their wilted shapes on window sill Epitomize the stench.

They live by words and deeds Encouraged in each other “Can do” abounds, ideas breed And one depends upon the other.

These towns are not just fantasy You'll find them where you live They're made by folks like you and me Who either take or give.

Of progress, there is none Ideas smother as they're born Expressions here are void of fun On faces lined from scorn.

“Here's a thought,” says one.

“That's great,” replies another Works done zestfully 'til done And neither task nor job is bother.

These shallow people dwell on past They whine of whims of fate Of luck which doesn’t last And whine of things they hate.

Two towns on opposite sides of hill One languishes in rot Where progress is standstill Townspeople say “cannot”.

Don't look around “How to build this town” There's really nothing new You blame yourself When you blame your town For success must begin with you.

They cast their scorn and fault With glances cold and grim With whispers, they cast doubt On others, yet never look within.

The other breathes vitality There's life in face and flower Where life is full of quality Townspeople cherish every hour.

January 2017

33

"Peace", By Jerry Brown

By Della Frank (2011)

Arrowhead Lately, I have been feeling so fearful. I am afraid of failing. I am afraid of being alone. I am afraid of solitude. I’m afraid of fear.

I walk along my lengthy path on this late afternoon. I walk the low path. I walk the high path. I cry. I am thinking of my dear mom. How is she doing? I wonder. She lives in Utah – the desert valleys of Utah near the Four Corners.

I look at the hills and mesas. I remember my dogs: Mister and Blackie. I remember how they stood on tall mesas and looked for rabbits to chase.

I remember how they laid down near-by when I got ready to pray to the four directions; lying down carefully on their four paws.

In the 90’s, I remember Mister slowing down during our long walks. I never figured out how he

34 January 2017

became blind. He kept walking and walking with us though, through the years.

On this particular long walk, and on top of the tallest hill, I looked down on the ground and saw, right in my path, an arrowhead. I stopped and studied the arrowhead, wondering where it came from or who may have dropped it. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Could a young man have dropped it by accident, or could a Medicine Man have placed it gently on the earth when he finished his last prayers? I stood in place, looked around, and felt a tear making its way in the corners of my eyes.

The arrowhead was pink, white, and brown.

After studying it for a moment, I bent down and picked it up cautiously. I touched the contours of

this rock. The rock was enduring. I murmured a prayer of thanks to Great Spirit World.

I tapped this arrowhead to my heart/my soul four times: east, south, west, and north.

I hold this arrowhead to the universe, earth: the center of earth.

I hold this arrowhead to Father Sun; Grandfather Universe; Mother Earth; Grandmother Moon. I acknowledge the open skies, the center of earth.

I look to the skies. I look to the trees. I look to the animals. I look to the distances.

In my time of despair, losing my job, low selfesteem, with no end of resolution in sight, I come across this arrowhead on this lone tall hill south of my home. I cry with joy. I walk home feeling hopeful. It is time to see the medicine man to the north, I say.

People Reading

The Student Senate of the University of New Mexico, hunker down with the Journey on a trip to Orlando, Florida to attend the National Conference on Student Leadership.

From left back: Vice President Delfred Sam, Senator Adam Rutherford, Secretary Lewis Espinoza and Advisor Dr. Shirley Heying. From left sitting: Senator Ariana Joe, Senator Camille Morua, Senator Lori Howard, President Ryan Whitman, and Treasurer Frederika Kee.

Gallup McKinley County Chamber of Commerce Group pose with the Gallup Journey at Cape St. Vincent, Portugal

January 2017

35

By Eric Shaw MA.RS, MA.SE, MA.AS

Two Views of Life Looking at shared storylines between the Navajo Culture and Yoga Culture I lived in Gallup from 1994 to 1998, teaching special education at Juan de Onate Elementary School and Gallup High. During that time, I became friends with Jason Arsenault, the publisher of the Gallup Journey. After leaving Gallup in 1998, I developed a deep passion for yoga, studying it extensively in both practice and in university graduate programs.

Taken by Felicia Kee 36 January 2017

When I lived here, I offered a course at UNM called Christ, Krishna, and Hero Twins. It never ran!

I didn’t get enough enrollments. But the syllabus I wrote taught the class similarities between the Christian, Hindu, and Diné ways of life. Although this article is about Yoga, it has a similar aim. Jason asked me to write a history of yoga for the Gallup Journey, and I figured the only way to make it relevant would be to compare the way of yoga with 'hózhó' (the Navajo Beauty Way) and the Navajo culture.

There are several of similarities between the cultures of India, which is the birth place of yoga, and the culture of the Diné. Both have elaborate creation myths, with populations of good and bad spirits, heroes, and gods. Furthermore, the Navajos orient their sacred land within four sacred mountains, and similarly, the subcontinent of India is ringed by four points, shaped like an inverted diamond, and the people there revere four great pithas – holy sites where monasteries have been built. The Navajo myth cycle reveres the Hero Twins, Naayéé’neizghání and Tóbájíshchíní, whose myth I sought to address in my failed UNM class! Two heroic beings are also part of India’s great Hindu myth, the Ramayana. They are named Rama and Lakshmana.

This is where we begin India’s story of yoga.

Lakshmana and Rama, like the Diné Hero Twins, battle evil in the Ramayana. To gain power, they train with a great yogi named Vishvamitra. In the course of training the boys, he gives them powerful weapons and teaches them forms of the sun salutation. Of course, this is now a basic form of our modern yoga.

Now the sun salutation involves athletic sets of pushups and knee-bend-like poses that are vigorous and sometimes sweaty, but it was not always that way. It was first designed as sun worship.

The sun salutation was part of a set of older practices that came from the Vedic period of India – 1500 to 800 BCE. In that time, Indians performed

“At Peace, for Abe”

By Ramona Vining sun salutations, among other ritual practices, that sought to connect to deities like the Sun-God, just like Navajo ceremonies do today.

Sun salutation practice evolved side by side with yoga. We date the description of yoga practices to 600 BCE, around 700 years before the story of the Ramayana took its full form. (The yogi-teacher of Rama and Lakshmana, Vishvamitra, was said to be alive even then!) The explanations of yoga that appeared at that time created a new focus for India’s people. Yoga resulted from a deep focus on transcending this world. (Transcendence of this type is a very minor part of the Navajo cultural practice.

For the Diné, there is not an elaborate mythology concerned with what happens after we die.)

For those in India, new ideas of yoga and what happens in the course of life and death were affected by ideas of karma, which were expressed in important books called Upanishads. The Upanishads were composed between 600 BCE and 200 CE, and they explained how to control one’s life, death, and reincarnation. This Hindu focus on an individual’s journey is mirrored in Native American practices such as Vision Quest.

If we look back to the stories of India’s “hero twins”, Rama and Lakshmana, we note that they took clear form near the time of Christ’s birth in Israel. In India, there were many developments which mirrored what was happening in Israel. The most prominent similarity was the formulation of what we call “bhakti yoga” – the yoga of devotion to gods, expressed through a personal relationship with them and by singing their praises.

Bhakti yoga was systemized in the story of two other heroes in India’s myths. These men were cousins named Krishna and Arjuna, and they mirror the Navajo Hero Twins in being godlike. Krishna was a god, and Arjuna was a half-god. Krishna is still very much worshipped today. Their story, told in the circa 325 CE Bhagavad Gita, is full of descriptions of yoga of every type and

includes many kinds of meditative practices called Raja Yoga. The book is one long conversation between Krishna and Arjuna. It takes place moments before a great battle between forces of good and evil. During the conversation, they explore states of mind, good karma, and how to dodge bad karma through bhakti yoga. The Bhagavad Gita (“The Lord’s Song”) remains a very important book for understanding how bhakti yoga and other types of yoga are to be done.

Another chief book, Yoga Sutras, is from the same period. Yoga Sutras is dated back to circa 375 CE. It doesn’t involve a myth or story, however, stories sprung up about the book and its author hundreds of years later. It is a very trusted manual on Raja Yoga, and it gives a very complete account of the meditative practices. In yoga training today, all throughout the world, this book is still studied carefully.

We call the period in which the stories of Rama and Lakshmana and Krishna and Arjuna became popular, “The Epic Period”, because their stories are called “Epics”. The Epic Period yielded to the Tantric period, which, around 600 CE, blended the rituals of the Vedic period – the focus on gods of the Epic period – and the yoga emphasis of the Upanishads, Bhagavad Gita, Yoga Sutras. Tantra focused on cultivating power in the body and saw this world as the body of the Goddess, similar to the Native American understanding of Earth Mother.

This Tantric focus on the body led to our modern form of yoga found in studios around the planet. The formal name for this practice is Modern Postural Yoga.

In the 11th century, Tantric India was drastically changed with the arrival of Muslim rulers, and India’s ways of approaching self-transformation and transcendence were greatly simplified. Hatha Yoga, an intense internal cleansing practice, which included postures (asanas), breath practices (pranayamas), and shatkarmas, gained prominence. Important books like the Hatha Yoga Pradipika from the 15th century

explain that practice, and this book, like the Yoga Sutras, is still read today.

In Gallup you have Four Corners Yoga Studio right down on Coal Street. It teaches a form of yoga often called Hot Yoga, which is derived from the work of a famous teacher from India named Bikram Choudhury. The Gallup Journey profiled the studio in a 2011 article, explaining that Bikram taught a set of 26 poses. Imitating the heat and humidity of India, Bikram would heat up his teaching rooms so his students would sweat so as to try and cleanse the body, somewhat like Hatha Yoga’s traditional shatkarmas did. And, like the Hero Twins who ignored their mother, Changing Woman, to wander far and wide, Bikram is just one kaleidoscope of teachers who left Mother India to teach yoga.

Bikram went to Hawaii and then Los Angeles in 1970, where he began spreading Modern Postural Yoga.

The first teacher who taught yoga publically outside India, however, was Swami Vivekananda in 1893, and it was in 1975 that a teacher by the name of Krishna Pattabhi Jois came to America to teach sun salutation as a part of the practice. KP Jois’ teacher had blended sun salutes with yoga in the 1930s, and now, because of its spread, sun salutes are taught internationally.

India’s globe-hopping yoga teachers have done a hero’s work of adapting an unusual indigenous practice to fit other customs and cultures. In every case, yoga had to be translated for non-indigenous audiences, and similarities had to be found between India’s culture and the culture where yoga was being taught. This article tries to do the same. I hope some of the parallels I’ve pointed out between the world of yoga and the world of the Diné help yoga to land in Gallup more easily and help to have yoga make a little bit more sense to everyone who lives here.

Blessings on your yoga path, your 'hózhó' path, or whatever path you may take in this world.

January 2017

37

A Dream From Above

winter is here on the cold mountain top. while the people in the meeting sit in the teepee praying for the goods in life for their family. while they sang the fire dance. while the wind stopped an eagle flew in and sat down and sang a sacred holy song from above. the feeling was unbreakable while the eagle waved his wing around the fire place and said my children, it's only the beginning of a new life and took them with him. while the teepee sat at the top of the mountain an eagle came to take the peyote feathers, the bear took the fireplace, cougar took the teepee poles, humming bird took the hide, the water bird took the water drum also the gourde box so nothing was left behind except where the fireplace sat.

By: Brandon Begay

38 January 2017

Chocolate Free Verse When you taste chocolate It’s like a bang and a pow and a boom It makes you feel better Some people don’t care for chocolate If you don’t, we can’t be friends So peace out, while I buy some more

By: Gabrielle Thomas Tohatchi High School Grade: 9th

Football Life

Fall is here Out on the field On a cold fall day Tomorrow the game Ballard telling us plays Almost time to play Listening to songs they play Lights are on while the sun goes down Lots of sounds from the crowd I might get hurt but still play Finish the game End by one touchdown away

By: Koby Smith Grade: 9th grade School: Tohatchi High School

Taken by Gerald Pinto

God

I accepted Jesus in my heart.

My Jesus is smart.

If it wasn’t for Him, I would be lost.

I would also feel like frost.

When I don’t have Jesus I break apart.

By: Shanelle Garnenez

Winter Is Here

Winter is here the snow falls gently.

Ice covers the road everywhere.

New start of winter with a white coat of snow The wind howls loudly and scary Eager to open presents for little children Rushing to get fire wood for the family

By: Cyrus John Tohatchi High school Grade: 9th

The Great Site

The only words I could describe it was so beautiful, Yet heartbreaking.

I had only seen this when it wanted to be seen.

It never gave me a choice to see it when I wanted, Which is why it was so heartbreaking.

The acknowledgement of my desire for it, Was existing but it didn’t change the nature.

All the nefarious things it did affected me, But I couldn’t help becoming infatuated with it.

My love for it was beautiful, Yet heartbreaking.

I wanted to cry of joy every time I saw it.

However, something stopped me.

I wanted to run to this great site at every glimpse, Just to stare at it for eternity but something was itching.

There was a presence in the back of my mind that got me stuck.

And soon I couldn’t move.

Overcome

The sight is so beautiful it could blow your mind, the appearance is like the stars, it takes your breath away, it is our home and our job to keep it clean, even when we feel like we lost everything, it will always be there, for whatever is thrown our way, we will fight for our home, whether we walk in beauty or pain, we as a nation we will overcome.

By: Folaya Silago From: Tohatchi High School Grade: 9th

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January 2017

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Taken by Chuck Freeman

A Pure Night Sky

Run away with me my friend, come with me I need you more than ever Take my hand, hold me close Whisper to me you need me just the same You're so beautiful, take me from here I don’t care where we go or what we do Just take it all away like you do Why do I need this pain to feel alive?!

Please don’t let go as it begins to hurt inside Now I’ll take your hand and hold you close I whisper I need you just the same Come with me the stars began to show I open your door with nowhere to go You smiled at me and stared to the side Watching headlights and street lights passing by Slowly I held your hand with the deftones slowly playing You closed your eyes and smiled like I’ve never seen before How I wish this night could never end Now everything is no longer moving as we’re above the city lights We look up to see the sky not a cloud in a pure night sky Open the doors, walk together to the edge The silence is so loud, I notice your tears and a smile I slowly grab you and turn you towards me I tell you I need you and I love you Now I kissed you like it was the last when it was the first Like I’ll never see you again Then I whisper my only wish, it made you cry Kissed you again Then I turned away, looked up to the sky Smiled…….said goodbye By: Cobin Bo Willie

42 January 2017

What is love?

What is love You think you love them But you don’t know How much they can take from your soul Love me now

By: Taiya

Thinks They Know Better Self-willed defined, “ME”.

I do what I want when I want!

Root of ungodliness, that’s what they say.

The ignorant, they want their own way.

A will that does not seek instruction is stricken.

Trapped by his own sins, caused by his unwillingness to listen.

The curse of the self willed…

Dishonest, the liar, the conman, the crafty and false.

Defiant and impatient in the muck and the mire.

The taker, the self, the blamer with unending desire.

Call them manipulator and rebel.

Witchcraft for the fire.

In the end their explanation is really quite simple.

The self willed are so exquisitely empty.

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43

By Annemarie Lisko

Patchwork of Dust Gallup is a tiny little town, resting sleepily out in the high desert of New Mexico. It sits on the very western border of the state, practically in Arizona, and nothing much ever happens there. It is quiet, and it is plain, and it is where I lived the summer I was eight.

On an early morning, we’d go hiking with our friends, in a state park maybe fifteen miles outside of town. We trotted along dry brown dirt paths stamped out of a landscape of unbroken dust and juniper bushes and the occasional scraggly tree. At the end of the trail was a little canyon, solid tan rock standing out against the never-settling dust that led to it. We usually stopped there and drank water, and our parents would sit on the rocks and watch us play.

Once there was a snake. After that, I didn’t really want to go hiking anymore. So I would go shopping with Mom instead.

In Gallup, if you needed something, any something, you had one option, and that was WalMart. There was a local joke that ran along the lines of, “If you need to buy a pair of socks, then you have to go to Albuquerque.” That was the big city two hours’ drive east of us. This is maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but just barely.

I would come along with Mom on our weekly grocery shopping trips, and I would push the cart for a few minutes, or pick out apples and lettuce in the produce section, and then afterwards I’d help pack the groceries into the car trunk. I stood in the warm dry desert heat, moving plastic bag after plastic bag from the grocery cart to the car, while all the shiny black ravens and dusty-colored pigeons that lived in the parking lot eyed us skeptically.

Most days during the summer, I would play outside with my sisters. The light cotton shorts and t-shirts that Mom bought for us (like little uniforms, all identical patterns but in different colors) were cool and comfortable, and the concrete of the front driveway was hard and hot under our bare feet. On lucky days, we were allowed to play with the water hose. We would open up the spout and then take turns, one of us holding the hose up into the air, and the others running around beneath the spray that tumbled back down to earth. “It’s raining! It’s raining!” It did not rain very often in Gallup.

44 January 2017

Other times we would go into the backyard instead. Amidst the hard-packed clay dirt and the occasional scattered sunflowers (the bright green of their leaves contrasted startlingly with the monochromatic brown that you got used to if you lived in Gallup for very long), we would create camps and cities and worlds for ourselves and for our plastic toy dinosaurs and our stuffed monkeys. Other times, we would act out the stories that we had learned about in school…

Taken At The 2016 Red Rock Balloon Rally By Brayden Trujillo Greek mythology, and that smelled strongly, achingly of summer…a fresh pirates, and the American Revolution. tingling straw scent that stung your face a little bit.

For a while that summer, the Olympics were on, Our favorite indoor game was Trains. A few years and in the evenings all of us would pile onto the earlier, our now-grown-up cousin had given us his lumpy yellow couch in the living room and watch old set of wooden train engines and boxcars and the competitions. Our television was a huge lummox long pieces of tracks that connected together at each of a thing that had been in the house for years…a end. We would carry the heavy train box out from relic of the early 1970s, at least. We were lucky that the pantry where we kept it – a job that always took it even showed the picture in color. The Olympics two of us – and we would spend hours and hours stirred up inside me, temporarily, the certainty that I down in the cool, comfortable basement, designing would one day stand upon a podium, crowned with laurels, clutching a gold medal as “The Star-Spangled and building elaborate structures of railroad that arched, wound, and twisted all across and around the Banner” echoed throughout the stadium. The same room. Gallup is a railroad town – the train station is aspirations struck my sisters, too, and for a time the at the very heart of the downtown, and many times backyard became our training camp. But water for an hour, even from our house several miles away, you practicing swimming was not easily found in Gallup, could hear the piercing, mournful wail of the BNSF and the long jump was difficult. As hard as you tried, locomotives as they went barreling past on their way you always came back down to earth before you across the country. Maybe that was why we liked the meant to, whacking hard against the ground and toy trains so much. flinging up a great cloud of that brown clay dust that The train station – the real one downtown – always was always so restless during the summer. held a mysterious appeal to me. It was a two-story If it was just too hot to play outside, or if we building, all painted in shades of turquoise and were tired, or if we were sunburned, or if Mom sandstone, and on the second floor there was a little commanded us to get out of the heat; we would museum that traced the history of the New Mexico retreat back into the house, to play in the basement railroads. I would stand on tiptoe for hours, staring instead. During these months, the swamp cooler was in through the glass at the little dioramas with their often running, and it filled the house with cool air

Taken by Alexandria Patterson intricate model trains and tiny figures of workers and passengers. I often longed to be able to play with those figures. They would make such marvelous toys, but I knew that it was out of the question, so I contented myself with just imagining the games instead.

A little restaurant that served coffee, soup, and sandwiches was tucked away on the lower story of the train station. Beside the tables, a long glass window looked out onto the railroad tracks. A rusty, locked fence separated the cracked cement platform from the tracks, until the blue-suited conductor stepped off the perpetually late 7:05 Amtrak and opened the gate for just long enough to give the handful of passengers time to get on or get off. I used to keep count sometimes: the train never stayed longer than six minutes before it sped away west to Los Angeles.

My father played the guitar, and he was in a band with some of the other doctors who worked with him at the hospital on the hilltop in the Red Rock neighborhood. On the second Friday of every month, the band played in the corner of the train station restaurant. Restaurant patrons and railroad travelers, waiting for the Amtrak that was never on time, would wander in and take a seat in the carved dark wood chairs or linger along the walls, tapping their fingers against their coffee cups. The band played jazz music,

and Dad sat in a folding chair upholstered with red and white checkered vinyl that was a present from Mom a few years before. I liked to huddle away beneath the water fountain and watch his fingers flying up and down and over the strings of his mahogany guitar, the one that had little turquoise hummingbirds on the fretboard.

The late summer sun would finally slip away around nearly nine o’clock, and through the tall glass windows I would watch the hazy blue dusk fall on the distant red mountains. The wailing notes of the saxophone would mingle with the sorrowful whistle of a passing train, and the sound would go drifting up into the fading, empty summer night.

Near the train station was a donut shop, called Glenn’s. You could see the railroad tracks from there, too, but the walls didn’t rattle when the trains came by. That place sold donuts, coffee, and breakfast burritos with red chili. I never ate more than a bite of those burritos (I preferred to stick with a maple-iced donut), but Dad liked them.

Though the scrambled eggs and sausage wrapped up in a tortilla did look nice, I always regarded the burritos rather warily, because of the red chili. It had too sharp and bitter of a taste, and it hurt my mouth when I tried it.

During that summer, Glenn’s acquired a tortilla machine, and whenever we went down there, my sisters and I used to stare goggle-eyed and amazed at the machine as it portioned dough and flattened out each lump into a thin circle and sent the raw tortillas down a slow-moving chute that cooked them and deposited them neatly in a heap at the bottom.

We didn’t often eat at a restaurant, but on the few occasions when we did, these were the places we went.

We didn’t need restaurants, though, because my mom could cook better than any chef. During the long summer evenings, I used to sit on the linoleum of the kitchen floor in my blue and green pajamas and talk with Mom while she mixed spices in bowls on the counter, or sizzled meat in frying pans, or boiled pasta water on the stove. Chili, posolé, steak fajitas, spaghetti, eggplant parmesan, jambalaya, fried fish with green beans, pad Thai, chicken Pakrikas…my mom could cook them all. I would set the table while she sliced vegetables for a salad every night, and then I would linger at her side and snatch raw cucumbers out of the ceramic dish when I had a chance.

But my very favorite moments of that long, dry, dusty summer were the evenings when Dad would read to us. It would be after dinner, and I would drag the pillow and blankets from my bed out into the living room. I would make a cozy little nest out of them and curl up there. My sisters did the same thing. And then, in the middle of the living room floor, with us spread out all around him, my dad would sit there and read to us. The Jungle Book, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, The Swiss Family Robinson…there were so many books that summer.

The back porch screen door was open, and evening sounds echoed in: crickets chirping, a dog howling across the arroyo behind our house, and the neverending train whistles. I sat on the floor and thought, curiously and longingly, about how it would be to go far, far away; to India or London or a tropical island in the middle of a lovely blue ocean…to places where there were jungles or old cobblestone streets or the waves of the sea washing up against a sandy shore, and where things actually happened.

The chilly evening breeze drew in through the screen door – up in the mountains, summers are cold once the sun goes down – and I shivered, snuggling deeper into my blanket, back in the living room of our house in Gallup. No, I didn’t really want to go anywhere else. I edged closer to Dad, and I listened to his deep voice gently reading those stories. The world was big and scary, and I didn’t really need that, did I? I was glad to be right where I was, safe in the dusty, sleepy little town where I lived the year that I was eight.

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45

By Bera Dordoni, N.D.

We Survived Y2K.

Can We Survive 2017 in Health?

Last month was a tough one for me. I got bad news from family in California and had to do a lot of traveling where I didn’t have access to my food ‘faves’ at home. Of course, that was really an excuse to turn to comfort foods for solace, so I did just that. Since I had to go to California, while I was there, I junked out big time, eating chips, and commercially made chocolate chip cookies with conventional (which means it had GMOs in it) ingredients including white flour, eggs, and a low-grade oil of sorts. I didn’t care. They contained chocolate. Unfortunately they didn’t make the food manufacturers sick, just me.

THE HOLIDAYS OFTEN FIND PEOPLE SICK Just like I turned to my cookies for comfort (which didn’t work, unfortunately!) many people without close family or friends turned to comfort foods for solace during the holidays. They too ended up sick, because I got calls reporting how they felt.

Well, it’s a new year which offers a chance at a new start. So how can we all survive situations we may not like and greet 2017 in health without turning to junk foods for comfort?

There are definitely ways.

LISTEN, DON’T SUPPRESS Like I said, my go-to is almost always chocolate. Raw dark chocolate is fine. But at times I still reach for the milk chocolate.

And then I pay for it…with stomach pain.

Unfortunately, the older I get, the less I’m able to tolerate my old bad habits. I have a rule that says 80% of the time I eat the right thing which allows me to junk out 20% of the time. But now when I indulge in that 20% of junk food, which might include white sugar or anything processed with GMO (genetically modified organism) ingredients which are found in almost anything that is not organically grown, I pay for it with PAIN in the stomach.

Bera “The Wellness Whisperer” Dordoni, N.D. Running the Wellness Warriors Project here in New Mexico, Dr. Bera specializes in immune system rehabilitation, restoration, and maintenance through nutritional counseling, life-style coaching, and the laws of attraction.

To join the Wellness Warriors visit www.bastis.org or call (505) 783-9001.

46 January 2017

I know I’m not alone, since I have friends who regularly reach for commercial digestive aids when they eat. Medications make me feel so sick I can’t take them, reducing my choice to consuming foods that make me feel good, but still satisfy me in the long run.

That includes sweet goodies. Those sweets can still contain chocolate, but they no longer can contain any dairy or white sugar.

Since the first “food” I ever made when I was a child was chocolate chip cookies, they have remained my favorite go-to sweet comfort treat. Today I teach students in the Wellness Warriors Project who are learning plant-based cooking, how to make these types of foods so they can still enjoy eating the foods they love without feeling ill effects.

10/29/16 – I no longer have diabetes and now able to enjoy a blessed life with my family.

BASTIS Foundation has worked with us through teaching and coaching us to a quality of health we never thought possible. A healthy plant based diet and lifestyle is a cornerstone of overall optimum health. Thank you BASTIS for showing us the necessary steps to take charge of our health.

C. Yazzie

The recipe for my favorite cookies is so easy to whip up I make a batch every week.

1 cup raw cashews, soaked in water for 2-4 hours ¼ cup raw coconut nectar 1 tbsp. chia seeds soaked in 2 tbsp. warm water ½ tsp. natural baking soda ½ tsp. real salt (or pink Himalayan salt) – NOT sodium chloride as is found in Morton’s, etc. ½ cup agave-sweetened or coconutsweetened dark chocolate chips

Drain and rinse cashews. Break them up in a food processor or blender. Place the blended cashews in a bowl with the remaining ingredients and mix together.

Place teaspoon-sized balls of cookie dough on cookie sheet 1 inch apart and bake at 275 degrees for 15 minutes. Remove from oven and cool. Enjoy.

IF ONLY THAT WERE ALL… Sure. Just eat healthful cookies. Wrong. So what can we do to create vibrant health as we enter this New Year?

Gallup La Montaňita Co-op so you can avoid taking suppressive drugs if you feel a cold or flu coming on: • Oscillococcinum®, a very effective homeopathic flu remedy by Boiron available in health-food stores and even some grocery and drug stores (use at first sign of flu) • Echinacea combined with Golden Seal in homeopathic, herbal, or tea form • Sambucus (elderberries), an herb that stops the flu-virus replication in many cases • Hot herbal teas that make you feel cozy and nurtured and help ease symptoms

& Speed Training

OUR FAMILY AND TEAM WISH YOU AND YOURS A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

• Slippery elm tea for a sore throat; add licorice root for sweetness • Noni juice – read http://gallupjourney. com/dont-ever-take-my-noni-away-fromme/ for all its benefits • Raw vitamin C • Vitamin D3

SINGLE WHOLE BOWL MEALS • Consider consuming foods that can keep Keep your meals simple; whole-meal you healthy not only now, but all year salads combine raw foods with cooked foods round. Raw garlic (a clove a day will keep and can satisfy many cravings. Think kale, the doctor away even more than a daily spinach, broccoli, carrots, beets, onions, apple), http://gallupjourney.com/thegarlic, and piñons, all raw, combined with divine-stinking-rose-garlic/, coconut oil, grilled tempeh and quinoa which is all the chile peppers (the hotter the better), and protein your body needs. fermented foods (sauerkraut, kimchee Warm nourishing HOMEMADE – recipe at http://gallupjourney.com/ soups are all-time favorites. In fresh water fermenting-we-will-go/) help keep the I always add onions, carrots, and celery as a immune system strong. base. Anything else that’s available such as potatoes, beets, squash or pumpkin, peppers, • Fresh clean water is also a must for a healthy chard, or any other vegetable you might body, and lots of it.Water is essential for the have on hand can usually bring more flavor optimal function of every cell and system in to the broth along with spices. Be creative – the body; it helps with nose stuffiness and you might be surprised with how happy the dry throat, and loosens secretions.Your urine combination makes you. When you’re about should be a light, pale yellow; if it's not, drink to serve the soup, throw in some raw diced more water to flush out the toxins. kale, spinach, or beet leaves so you’re getting the benefits of your warm soup with the live • If you are not moving your bowels after enzymes contained in the raw greens. every meal, you are likely constipated, May the magic of the holiday season bless which negatively impacts the immune you with happiness and good health as you system and may mask as a cold or flu. greet 2017.

Cleanse or detox this condition rather than add more junk food to relieve the Want to join the Wellness Warriors Project? aches and pains.

Call (505) 783-9001 or email bastis@bastis.org to see if you qualify.

How about stocking up on “medicine Let’s enjoy a healthy, dis-ease-free 2017 cabinet” items you can pick up at our local together!

Enchantment Physical Therapy

505-863-4199

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BUY NAVAJO

ARE YOU HURTING? WE CAN HELP. • Customer Service

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Now a certified Silver Sneaker/Prime Benefit Fitness Location WE ACCEPT: Medicaid, VA, BC/BS, Tricare, Presbyterian, Summit, Navajo Nation, Worker’s Compensation, AHCCCS, Auto, and many other insurances.

January 2017

47

Goodbye Darlin’ That song by Conway Twitty, When he wails “it’s been a long time,” Reminds me of sitting with you in your truck Laughing for hours as the world sped.

"Weeping Women River", Oil Painting, By Dianna Cuyos

That song about a faded love, Are reminiscent of that spring day, When I received a heavy phone call, Telling me the news that you had went away.

The songs about the memories, Make me wish that I could rewind time, Back to all those long bear hugs, And all those walks with your hand in mine.

The song about that lonesome whippoorwill, The one that seemed too blue to fly, Is now a reflection of how I see myself, As I sit in darkness and cry.

That song about being all alone.

Proves my feelings true, Without you I am half a heart, And now I’m stuck being the color blue.

That song about the silence, That painful echo that comes with death, Pierces me at my core While every lyric fills me with regret.

That song about missing you, Tangles all the feelings in my heart, I never thought remembering your crazy singing, Would be the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart.

That same Conway Twitty song, That sings of losing a love so warm and true, Holds a special place in my heart all because of you.

It reminds me that even though you are gone, The dreams we had and the love we shared, Is kept alive by you through our favorite song.

By Krystyna Lewis

"Fiery Sunset", Taken By Pati Hays 48 January 2017

Love’s Time Portal "Morning Glow", Oil on Linen, Arches National Park

By Ashton S. Phillips

I awoke from my reality and felt you next to me.

Born for you, I searched every celestial sea, one can perceive

My soul and my heart knew we were meant to be

Finally, you came walking to me like a dream created from ecstasy.

I found you in this lifetime and I’ll find you in the next

Whether we find ourselves tangled as two plants

We were absolute immortal accidents,

Even if we were stuck together as someone’s cats.

As a cloud stretches to reach the sun, yearning to follow…

You’ll find me as a perfect stranger, when I say “hello”

Whatever our actual existence, we have our perpetual vertigo If I am to share Forever with you, let us be made into snowflakes…

Drifting slowly to earth, bathed by the full moon’s silver hands, her fate.

incessantly, definitely what I would call “falling in love” for love’s sake

The sun would reform and vanish us to the sky, to once again – awake!

To be exalted in a prism of rays, to be everywhere at once

For as long as you’re near me, I could weigh an atom’s ounce

Our love would kiss in the air or share countless lifetimes as the stars, one counts Red as the blood that flows through my heart, your hand held next to mine.

As I finish writing this, I wake from my reality and feel you next to me, we’re mine.

By Dylan Solomon

January 2017

49

the

Bishop’s

Join Bishop James S. Wall and Catholic Peoples Foundation At the 2017 Bishop’s Mardi Gras

February 25, 2017 Sacred Heart Cathedral Gym Happy Hour at 6:30pm Dinner at 7pm $65 per person Corporate Sponsorships Available

50 January 2017

Gou Dan rmet cing Dinn e Cas and Mu r Fan tast hB sic a i c r And Silen Muc t Au h M ction ore !

Contact Amanda at 505/726-8295 or email: amanda@catholicpeoplesfoundation.com

By Marcus Martza

After Hours Once the hour strikes at two on a moonlit night, there will be nothing to do and no hiding in the light.

It begins with a knock, not seen, but heard.

Silence shall hit the clock, vision becomes blurred.

The tapping begins once again, so you follow the noise.

You hear the scream of a thousand men, Your head spins and you lose poise.

By Ann Marie Calderon

“Sound of Silence”

By Suzannah Lisko

Taken by Merrisha Livingston

“Friend met on the Trail”, Taken by John Taylor

You seek help from any person around, finding only monsters lurking about.

Senses distorted, you attack at any sound, using weapons laying out.

You finally kill the beast with your knife, as senses return, you find an illusion of the mind.

For at your feet, is the love of your life, their soul escaping the wound from behind.

You will only find what you want the see, for this was no trick of the night.

The truth is what you want it to be, and your actions will be justified in the light.

“Puppy’s Midnight Snack",Taken by Naomi Lisko

Taken by Marty Burns January 2017

51

By C. J. Bloedel

Miss Kitty,s Adventure

Miss Kitty was sitting by the window listening to the radio. Her master had just left the house on an errand. “I will be back after seven,” her master stated. Looking out the window, she saw a very large and colorful dragonfly. It was as large as a leaf from the tall oak tree next to the window. She looked down and saw a very long brown lizard resting on a rock below her lofty view. Miss Kitty was getting bored looking outside. So, she wondered what other fun she might be able to do.

Jumping off the window sill, she went toward the staircase. Ah ha! Look at that shiny zipper on the jacket of my master’s coat. Oh, she won’t mind if I have some fun with it. It is just hanging on the stair

banister anyway. Miss Kitty reached up and began to play with the zipper – back and forth, paw here, paw there. This zipper is so nice and shiny! Just a little harder but…oh no! There it goes falling to the floor below – no more fun.

Off she went to the living room to look at the large clock and watch the pendulum swing back-and-forth, back-and-forth.

It began to chime. Miss Kitty was smart and knew that seven o’clock meant her master would be coming home soon. She remembered her master spent some time in the kitchen before she left and thought, “Now what was she up too.” Off Miss Kitty went to see what her master had been working on in the kitchen.

Goodness! A party! Miss Kitty surmised as she saw the large birthday cake and balloons on the kitchen table. “I love balloons, and what fun to play with them!” meowed Miss Kitty. In a quick leap, she was on the table, avoiding the cake of course, and made her way to the balloons. “Just a gentle touch is all I need,” she meowed. Then one by one POP, POP, POP, POP, POP, POP! The balloons fell! Miss Kitty meowed, “I will blame the parrot!” She remembered the parrot flew away some time ago, and never returned! She purred to herself thinking she was ruler for the day, but wait until my master returns!

THE END.

Orthopedics at RMCHCS are our specialty Whether you suffer from arthritis, have a torn ligament or need a joint replacement, RMCHCS orthopedic specialists can care for you.

Meet Dr. Francisca Lytle with over 20 years experience in orthopedic surgery.

Turquoise Territory

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Whatever your concern, our experienced orthopedists are well-trained to diagnose and treat the problem with compassion.

To schedule your appointment, call the Red Rock Clinic at 505-863-7200 1900 Red Rock Drive www.rmch.org

Your Partner in Health

Richardson’s Trading Co. Since 1913

505.722.4762 • 505.722.9424 fax • rtc@cnetco.com 222 W. Hwy. 66 • Gallup, NM 87301 www.richardsontrading.com

52 January 2017

8 Questions

8 Questions for Rose Eason

Executive Director for Gallup Arts

1. Rose what brought you to Gallup?

Well, I lived here before from 2009-2011, and I met my boyfriend during that time.

We were both teaching in Tohatchi. When we went off to graduate school, we knew that ultimately we wanted to return and settle in Gallup. Jimmy is Navajo, and he always wanted to serve his community, and now he’s a school counselor. I love it here. I love the landscape, I love the people, the culture, the quality of life, and I’m big into hiking and art. I can’t imagine a better place for me.

2. How long have you been interested

and involved in Arts?

Oh my, forever; as long as I can remember.

I’m no artist, but I have always been a fan of art, and I have taken many art classes over the course of my life. Some of my earliest memories are of going to museums, and I studied Art History in college – that’s my bachelor’s. Then when I became a teacher, I used art a lot, and I found it to be an invaluable resource for teaching students.

3. What is special about Gallup’s

is it’s just been at the crossroads of every demographic and cultural shift in this country. It’s been on the forefront of Spanish colonization and the westward expansion of the United States, and it has hung on to a lot of its traditions. Things have blended in lots of ways, but there’s also distinct cultures here, and people have really maintained their identities. You know, art is the heart and soul of any culture. I think that is where we get all the diversity of art here; from the many cultures which are represented here, and how rich of a history our town has.

5. What’s our future in terms of art in Gallup? gallupArts works a lot on developing the creative economy and looking at art as an economic driver. I think art has a lot to do with the future of Gallup and ways that we can invest in our artists, expand the art market here, use art to promote tourism, and develop an arts-based economy as a whole.

6. What is the fun part of your job?

What do you enjoy the most? art scene?

The people. gallupArts has a great team.

Oh, let me count the ways! (Laughs) The Our Board is constantly working at full most special part is that McKinley County – throttle, undertaking a lot of projects, and Gallup and the wider area – is saturated with we generate more and more ideas by the the arts and artists. McKinley County has day. Support from the Board makes my job two and one half times as many artists than fun. Also, the broader community and the any other county in the state. So we’re just a businesses, organizations, and people that creative hub, and it’s a really diverse creative I get to partner with definitely make it fun. hub, not only in terms of who’s working There’s a real energy here and people are here and living here, but also in terms of the ready to dive in and roll up their sleeves and media that people are producing. This makes get to work on projects. The people here are it really, truly exciting. welcoming of my ideas; I have lots of people who share ideas with me which makes it 4. Why do we have a disproportionate constantly fun and exciting. amount of creativity here?

7. So what is the most challenging part?

I guess it’s in the water. (Deep full laugh) Well, when it comes to the arts, funding I think some of it has to do with the place is always the challenging part, and right itself. What I find stunning about Gallup

now we are facing pretty major budget cuts from the State level. The arts are always cut first, but I would make the argument that they are essential, especially here where we have so many artists. Having a strong arts economy is really important to the wellbeing of our families.

8. What do you enjoy doing in your

off-time?

I love hiking, and I think the trails around Gallup are some of the most beautiful. I like the Hog Back Trail and the Pyramid Rock Trail of course, and the High Dessert Trails.

The scenery is just amazing, and I find it energizing. I do crafts in my free time, and I like getting together with friends. Recently I was invited into a game night circle and that’s been really enjoyable.

By Fowler Roberts January 2017

53

Events Calendar

On Going:

Events Calendar

Every

live acoustic show with Dylan McManus Camille’s 7-9pm

January

Events: 7th

Each Thursday Evening First Wednessday of each Month

McKinley Citizens' Recycling Council meeting Sat. Red Mesa Center

8th Sun.

14th Sat.

21st Sat.

Taize' Worship Contact: Kathy Mezoff (505) 870-6136 Westminster Presbyterian Church - Gallup ArtsCrawl Community Brainstorm Session Interested in helping us plan the 2017 ArtsCrawl season?

EVERYONE is invited to the ArtsCrawl Community Brainstorm Session.

Artists, business owners, ArtsCrawl enthusiasts, and creative folks of all stripes, come share your ideas and input to help make 2017 the best year of ArtsCrawl yet.

We’ll present the themes for the upcoming season, and you can tell us what you’d like to see! Light refreshments will be served. See you there!

RSVP is requested but not required to artscrawl@galluparts.org.

Get the latest on ArtsCrawl on Facebook @ArtsCrawl Gallup.

Second Street Event Center in downtown Gallup 4:30-6:30pm Soroptimist International of Gallup is hosting its Live Your Dreams Luncheon.

Tickets are $20 per person. Come and meet our award winners, who are receiving funds to help them with their education. The funds were raised during the Festival of Trees, and we would like to say thank you again to all of our sponsors. Please join us!

Our mission is to improve the lives of women and girls through programs leading to social and economic empowerment.

For More Information: Geraldine Arviso (505) 721-9121 11:30am

21st

Quilts of Valor Sew Day Sat. Join area quilters at UNM - Gallup North Campus for Quilts of Valor Sew Day to make quilts for area veterans.

Bring your sewing machine, thread, scissors (basic sewing supplies) – fabric and patterns will be provided to make the quilts.

Lunch will also be provided.

Sign up at Gallup Service Mart, 104 East Coal Street, Gallup NM. $5 will hold your space for a day of fun and laughter while creating quilt tops for our local veterans.

Call Lynn (505) 905-1205, Carol (505) 870-0587 or Marje (505) 905-6262 for more information.

UNM - Gallup North Campus 9am-4pm

54 January 2017

“Friday Night Hootenanny”

Friday Gallup’s longest running

CornHole Tournaments Sammy C’s 6:30pm Gallup Autism Support Group Do you have a child on the Autism Spectrum? Join with other parents to find support.

Children are welcome at meetings. Find our group on Facebook.

For info call: (360) 912-1953 Meets at City Center Coffee 501 S.Third St 6-7:30pm Habitat for Humanity is looking for volunteers to attend decision-making meetings or who to volunteer at, or help fund, construction projects. Call Bill Bright at (505) 722-4226 for details.

First The City of Gallup's Monday Sustainable Gallup Board of each Month Community members concerned about conservation, energy, water, recycling and other environmental issues are welcome. Call Bill Bright at (505) 722-0039 for information.

Octavia Fellin Library 3-5pm

the First three Wednessdays of each Month

Gallup Solar is hosting free Solar 101 classes about all things related to off-grid solar systems.

All are welcome any week.

No registration is required.

Call (505) 728-9246 for information.

113 E. Logan 6-7pm

"Skyline", Oil on Linen, Arches National Park, By Ashton S. Phillips

Community Programs Available: All programs are provided at no charge.

Those attending are asked to pre-register by calling Robert at (505) 615-8053.

Programs meet at the Gallup Masonic Center, 4801 E. Historic 66 Avenue.

10th

Dementia Caregivers Support Group

Tues.

10th

Working Through Your Grief Following A Death Tues. 10-11am

11th

Someone You Know is Dying, How Do You Cope?

14th

Understanding And Planning A Funeral Sat. Or Cremation 10am-12 Noon

14th Sat.

Understanding Hospice, what it is and when it is Appropriate For A Loved One 2-4pm

17th

Bereavement Support Group Tues. 10-11am or Wednesday, January 18th at 10am

Gallup Community Concert Association Call for Musicians Do you sing, play a string, wind or percussion instrument?

The Gallup Community Concert Association needs you to join us for a once in a lifetime opportunity!

We are calling all musicians to perform ”Symphony Chaco: A Spiritual Journey”, a brand new multimedia composition for Symphonic Orchestra and Choir, featuring R. Carlos Nakai on March 10 & 11, 2017. This will be in commemoration of the 110th anniversary of Chaco Canyon’s designation as a National Historic Monument!

Vocalists will rehearse: Mondays from 7-8:30 pm Beginning January 2nd First United Methodist Church 501 S.Third St

Instrumentalists will rehearse: Thursdays from 6-8:00 pm Beginning January 12th Gallup High School Band Room

For more information, contact Toni Neff: gallupcca@gmail.com (505) 862-3939 Vern Bia: Bia-vbia@gmcs.k12.nm.edu Linda Kaye: kayecoda@gmail.com

Saturday, April 15th

Save The Date

The McKinley Citizens' Recycling Council will host their first ever Trashion Show, at The Rio West Mall MCRC is seeking children, youth, adults, clubs, classes, friends, families to design an outfit out of recycled or re-used materials. Entries will be judged on use of recycled materials, style, and wearability. Cash and other prizes will be awarded in the following categories: Child (under 8), Youth (8-12), Teen (13-17), Adults (18+). Special Awards for: Best Environmental Message, Best Use of Plastic, Best Use of Paper, Best Use of Fiber, and Best Use of Metals and Miscellaneous.

For information on how to register, help on locating recycled materials, and more, contact Linda (505-905-5966), betsywindisch@yahoo.com, or recyclegallup.org.

For design ideas check out recyclesantafe.org/fashion-show and recyclerunway.org.

January 2017

55

By John Lewis Taylor

Dan And Rosa Dan Dubois said goodbye to his shipmates on the USS Camellia, and after a few days of regaining his land-legs in New York City, made his way back to New Mexico.

Dan arrived in Los Lunas after a long and dull journey over the Santa Fe Trail.

He stopped in the village to spend a few days with his Uncle Leon. One evening, Dan asked his uncle about employment, having long ago spent his Navy pay.

Uncle Leon suggested that Dan make his way north to the Maxwell Land Grant and see Don Lucien about a job.

The next morning, Dan bought a cowpony, a pack mule, and some supplies and set out for the Maxwell Ranch. Dan took his time on the trail; he was enjoying the freedom of being back in New Mexico.

He loved the open air and the aroma of yellow pine and sagebrush, and the light,

the New Mexico light. “No place on earth,” Dan thought, “has light as wondrous as New Mexico.”

The journey was refreshing, and Dan had left the Civil War and the boiler room of the Camellia behind when he rode into the gate of the Maxwell Ranch. “Howdy stranger,” a cowboy called, as Dan sat politely on his horse. “Get down and rest awhile.” Dan dismounted and walked over to shake the man’s hand.

“I am Charley Maxwell," the cowboy said as he pumped Dan’s arm, “We are always glad to see a new face. Come into the cookhouse and have something to eat. You got here just in time for supper, amigo. It ain’t good, but there is a lot of it,” Charley said with a laugh.

Dan was happy to enjoy a meal.

The food was good. His uncle Leon’s

Taken In Grand Canyon, AZ, by Priya Sudarsanam 56 January 2017

wife was a good cook; her cooking was helping him get over Navy sea biscuits, but he had not been in Los Lunas long enough to clear that taste from his mouth.

Dan knew if he had a job at this ranch, he would get himself back in order. He would shut out the war completely.

As Dan left the cook-house he noticed a woman, a young woman, crossing the yard of the ranch, going from one building to another. Dan noticed women, especially young women.

“Oh, you saw her," remarked a cowboy leaning on the hitching post. “That is Marie de La Rosa. She came here as a girl, sold to Don Lucien by some Utes. She sure has grown up to be quite a beauty.

A Navajo, I guess; some say her father is some kind of ‘big bug’ Indian.”

“My god, she is beautiful," mused Dan as he walked into the ranch office. Dan was employed at the Maxwell Ranch as a cowboy, but his work did not reduce is admiration for Rosa. Due to Dan’s persistence, Rosa began to warm to Dan and soon the two became friends and later lovers.

One fine day, Dan Dubois rode out from the ranch-headquarters house; his task was to ride the fence line but he planned to meet Rosa. Dan was riding through a canyon when he saw a flash of light from a mirror. Dan knew that it was Rosa’s signal, and he rode towards the flashes of light.

He found Rosa waiting for him behind a screen of aspen trees. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and as he stood looking upon her beauty, she walked towards him and they embraced.

“Dan," she said, pressing him close to her, “Take Me Home.”

Dan Dubois and Rosa Manuelito returned to the ranch headquarters the next morning to gather their belongings.

Dan explained to Don Lucien that slavery had ended in the New Mexico Territory and that he was taking Rosa home to the Navajo country.

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January 2017

57

DURING 2016, SEVERAL NEW BUSINESSES OPENED IN THE DOWNTOWN BUSINESS DISTRICT. GALLUP BID WELCOMES:

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www.GoGallup.com

205 W. Coal Avenue, P.O. Box 4019 Gallup, NM 87305

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