Ana Mataya Hudgeons

Class of 2006

My story in Gallup ties into my family having deep roots here. My grandparents and great-grandparents all immigrated to the area to work in the coal mines. My greatgrandmother, on my dad’s side, even bootlegged in the area during the prohibition era, and if I remember the story right, even kicked a couple of people out of Gallup who were competing with her (my great-grandfather died in a mining accident and she had two young boys to support).

My grandparents, on my mom’s side, owned a local bar and restaurant and, my grandfather only had an 8th grade education. So, what is the point of my story? My family’s push for education has led me to where I am today in my life. For those who don’t know me, let me introduce myself. I am Ana Mataya Hudgeons. I was born in Gallup, attended all GMCS schools, graduated from Gallup High in 2006, stayed here and attended UNM-Gallup, received my bachelor’s degree in secondary education with emphasis in History, and since 2013 have been a middle school New Mexico history teacher for GMCS. In 2015 my husband Ryan and I opened our photography business, RAH Photography. I am a mom to LilyJean and a dog-mom to Kava, Niko, Zora, and Oliver. I am the student council coordinator (let’s call it that) at Gallup Middle School, and most recently, I was elected to the Gallup Soccer League’s Board. Whew!

I grew up in a family of teachers and active community members. I love this community and I find many ways to serve and give back to the area that has given so much to me. Some people might look down on Gallup, but it’s truly a little gem. I work at Gallup Mid School, and I tell my 7th graders that no matter which path you choose, be it college, military, or a career, you have to do something. I also try to emphasize that you should never give up. This is something that was always instilled in me. Being a teacher, who comes from a family of teachers, this is something that I try to remind my students to do.

Photography was a dream, and with support, we were able to set it up. We want to thank all of you who support our business and keep us going. We love you all!

To the next group about to embark into the “real” world: never give up, always try, take chances and above all, remember your roots and where you came from, your values, and the lessons you learned. The real world can be cruel, and it is often unfair, but when you work hard and realize the potential you have, great things happen. And in some small way, if you can, give back to the community that gives so much to you!

A Word of Pain and Choice . . .

Upon the curb of an empty street Did sit a man alone In rumpled coat, his spirit beat ‘Neath rain that drenched to bone “Of friendship now I speak,” said I, “which first you must extract then forge by hammer and heat and shape with each contact

“It’s times like these,” spoke he In whispered breath, “which breed despair until one’s very fiber pleas to have the pain end there.” Tempered friendships like tempered steel rank among the best and only those count you as real, which won’t crack under test

Lift now your eyes to men of old who, undaunted, swords would seize then venture forth, brave and bold In times you call ‘The times like these’

Shake now the fear of darkest hour Fear not that fear you’ve snown Draw now from friends both strength and power to dare and stand alone

Knowing that, like men gone by who trusted in the tempered blade, tempered friends stand by your side with friendship you once gave.”

We embraced friendship that night Then traversed separate ways but on lonely nights’neath pale street lights he’s sometimes heard to say

To the lonely men on lonley curbs wending toward despair with their angry, empty words and thoughts that no one cares

“May I share your lonely curb?” Though just a passerby, I’d like to share a word of pain and choice...to live or die.”

“Pardon friend,” said I, “but walking by tonight I heard a loney voice behind your words and wondered why you’ve abandoned choice?”

“Man,” said he, “I know thee not but it’s me who’s been abandoned by life and choice, thus here I rot. I wish to be alone now grant it.”

“May I share your lonely curb?” I asked. “Though just a passerby, I’d like to share a word of pain and choice...to live or die.”

It wasn’t plain whether he cared when I took my place beside him in the gutter, for he looked ahead with an icy stare and neither word nor whine did utter. Now pain I’d seen and pain I’d felt but I’d never seen such sorrow. This story begged I tell lest he not see the morrow.

“The ancient Earth,” said I, “embraced its ore.” Yes, cleaved the earth of its treasure not knowing of its store nor of its worth or measure.

Held captive ‘neath the ground ore served not man or purpose. It gave not light nor sound Held thus, was less than worthless

Until from earth ore extracted by white heat made to yield Poured, forged and form extracted and some made into steel.

—Palacios

All ore was strengthened by hammer and fire to shape a pot or make a blade To serve man’s need, also desire, thus too, were his tools made.

Precious gifts beyond our measure like earth, inside, man often keeps this untapped worth, like untapped treasure, is worthless when kept deep.