No Place Like Home Michele Reeves

Whenever I return to my parent’s home in Crystal, I step inside and into the smell of stew and frybread, freshly brewed coffee, the burning of oak in the stove, and into the sound of KTNN in the background. Nothing more is needed to know that I am home and that is where I belong. It might sound like a cliché, but it is true: you can take a person out of a place, but you can’t take a place out of the person. That is pretty much the case for any place, even Gallup. Time may pass by and cause us to change, but our homes remain true and steady.

A lot has happened over the years and a lot has changed, but those of us who live in or near Gallup will say that Gallup has kept its homely feel. Anyone who returns to Gallup, whether you call it home or not, will be thinking, “where to eat?” Your schedule will work around mealtime, breakfast at Sandra’s, lunch at West End Deli, and dinner at El Sombrero.

For the next day, you select the next three places, and so forth. The comfort foods served in local restaurants are what make Gallup home. Sure, there are newer chain restaurants that have changed the geography of Gallup, but everyone knows that it is all about the chili. You know you are home when the chili is as spicy as you had remembered.

Another thing that remains true and notable is Gallup’s deep-rooted pride. Not only are we very patriotic, but we also have a distinct community identity. Our population includes all walks of life, and it is getting more difficult to see who is in the minority. Gallup has always been ahead of time in understanding what it meant to “be in this together.” In Gallup’s short history, we have stood together through the “rough justice” of The Gallup 14, the influx of Hollywood in the 1930s, the 1942 refusal of Gallup

No Place Like Home

citizens to “turn over” their Japanese neighbors, sending our children off to the military, and then welcoming them home from wars. More recently, we have experienced together severe droughts, 9-11, the opening of a second high school, political elections, Miley Cyrus twerking, and everyone’s personal lives on Facebook. We know that Gallup is not as rural as it used to be or that it isn’t immune to viruses, but how we remain true to defending and taking care of one another is something to be proud of. Home is where we aren’t judged and where we are never alone.

Ask any elder about what Gallup was like in the old days. They may talk about the old Indian clinic on 2nd Street by the railroad tracks and St. Francis Hospital just West of Junker Bridge. They may mention a grocery store called Piggly-Wiggly that was in Trade Mart Square or Jay’s Food Store and Market that was located south of the tracks between 2nd and 3rd Streets. They may remember pawning for groceries at Larry Lee’s Trading Post. The post office and JC Penney’s were once in downtown. And yes, who could forget watching movies at Zuni Drive-in Theater or watching the Ceremonial dances, which was held at the city park near Playground of Dreams. However, when it came to describing the community, elders will say that Gallup has not changed at all, that the best chili in the state can be found in any local restaurant and, more importantly, that Gallup is a good place to call home.

Down through the ages, philosophers and musicians wrote about time. A second is fleeting, a minute is waiting, an hour is long, a day is getting-through, and a year is one trip around the Sun. A lot can happen in even the shortest of time, and people can—and do— change, but it is reassuring to know that home will always stay the same. There is real comfort in knowing that, however far you venture out into the World, there is a place where you belong. It is true, and you know it: you can take the person out of Gallup, but you can’t take Gallup out of the person.

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