Family Storytelling

It is looking like full-blown autumn here, inside and out. The rain set in yesterday…last night...and more is coming. This morning it was so dark I overslept for me. The deck was wet and the air rested at a damp 49 degrees. While I brewed the tea, Miss Biscuit looked at me forlornly. “Yes, I know, our tea time is not the same inside.”

This week I have baked apples, baked beans, bake a pie (that we should not have), hungered for cookies, and have recipes laid out for soup. The oven is on more now. I feel my insides pulling inwardly like overdone custard pulling away from the pan sides. I shrivel a little in this weather knowing winter will come; my body knows what is coming and preparing. No, not yet please!

It does feel like writing weather though. I have sticky notes all over my desk as scenes and conversations come to my mind. No time to write them at moment what with fighting Social Security (a story you do not want to hear!) and other things happening. However, I want to save these glimpses of story for dark winter mornings when maybe I can hammer them out on the keyboard before dog and man arise each day.

Yesterday, my cousin came through town and spent many hours with us. It has been a couple of years since I saw him last, but before that it was decades. Slightly younger than I, he shared my family on Dad’s side. For long while we only lived a block apart. Then I married and moved away while he joined the Air Force during the Vietnam years and traveled the world.

Of course, our favorite subject to hash out is our shared and often dysfunctional family. Now we are old enough to piece together the scenes and events of our childhood, seeing them from a distance of what we hope is fairness and wisdom. We are now at an age where it is comforting to know someone who knows us from our past, who can share memories. I think there are lots of seeds for story from my family!

I have been searching my family history hunting answers for what makes us who we are. Although I still hunger for answers I have not found yet, I have found good writing topics in these people I never met. That is what I like about writing fiction. I can have a seed or an experience or even just a feeling from my life, and if I don’t know all the facts, why I just make them up! Sadly I can’t share most of these particular family inspired stories with my family because while they are fiction, people will most assuredly recognize themselves…and not be happy!

So when you write about family inspired events, how honest do you tell the story? How do you deal with your family’s response to your writing? Are they happy with your tales…or do they even know?

Southwest Flavor

When I was young, I dreamed of owning a large two storied house with spacious rooms where I could show “who I was” on bookshelves and piano tops. That never happened because my home is a one level ranch style, and I don’t play the piano!

I do not change decorating styles based on the latest fads. I am eclectic…and sappy over things that represent all phases of our life, not just the latest and most popular items in decorating magazines. But when we repaired and removed wall paper in our bedroom last year, we painted the walls a shade of desert sand. A new bedspread was in shades of sand, rose, mint and blue stripes. This room makes for a place to use some Southwestern flavored mementos. 

This year we bought this numbered and matted photo because we both loved the blue door, actually window. DH just finished building a frame for it. The hollyhocks are a note card printed from an artist's own painting. I bought it a couple of years ago and framed it poorly. While building the bigger frame, DH took time to redo this sweet little picture of hollyhocks against adobe for me.

This pottery was from last year's trip as well. The artist was marketing her work at Earl's in Albuquerque.

This adobe pueblo inspired clock I bought at a garage sale down the street last spring. I paid a whopping $1 for it!

Just tiny touches here and there in this room will keep the Southwest alive for us this winter when snow flies and wind blows!

Last Stop Sand Creek

The foothills of the Rockies stretched out to grasslands and prairies that rolled eastward like a huge ocean of saffron colored grasses. From Bent’s Fort, we traveled northwest about 80 miles to our last stop before heading the Ruby Slipper towards home across Kansas. I have seen many wide plains and do love the expanse of undulating lands in the Midwest. But I don’t think I have ever seen such a span of land as I saw near Chivington, Colorado. The breadth of the view stretched forever to the horizon and was breathtaking. I took numerous pictures but none can hold the awe of standing right there.

The destination was Sand Creek Massacre Site. I knew the story but wanted to see this sad National Site for myself. After miles of traveling roads nearly alone without other cars…or homes…we turned on a gravel road for eight miles. The loneliness was almost spooky. A ranger walked out to meet us as we drove into the main area (obviously he doesn’t face herds of people so visitors are welcomed one by one).  When we stepped out of the car, wind nearly knocked us over. It wasn’t a storm wind, just good old hard and strong prairie wind.

The ranger talked about the history….about the area’s weather including the relentless wind….about the spotty cottonwoods…the stream. Sand Creek was known as a battleground until 2007 or so when it was properly named a massacre site. This was no battle; this was murder. In November of 1864 while the Civil War raged, a group of Cheyenne and Arapahos lead by Black Kettle was peacefully camped on Sand Creek. Many surrounding Whites liked and worked with these people. William Bent (of Bent’s Fort) had two sons living here.

Col. John Chivington took about 700 volunteer soldiers out to destroy these people who were not fighters. He planned it with the sole intent of killing people. Nearly 200 Natives were killed; two thirds of them were women and children. Then the men also raped and mutilated women including cutting a baby from its mother’s womb. A couple of unit leaders were so sickened by what was being done that the officers refused to let their men fire, refused to let them partake in this mass murder.

The ranger told us how to drive up to the banks of the creek. There were memorials and more history signs. Visitors were asked not to walk beyond some posts out of respect to the killing grounds spirits. Descendants of these victims still return to this spot to mourn their ancestors. I stood there as the wind whipped my hair in my face and felt such sadness for the suffering of the mothers that day. Unfortunately, I thought of how the world has not changed much as rape, killing, and mass murder still run rampant in our world…new tribes of people but same old story.

The eight miles back to the highway, DH and I talked of how sadly moving the site was. We met another car going in. There had been three cars in about an hour and a half. A few people do trickle into this National Historic Site either to pay respects or to reach for understanding of ugly history. When we hit the paved road once more, we inched our way eastward pass Goodland, Dodge City, and on to Pratt. The next day it was visiting our son in Wichita and then on to family in Neosho County, and finally home again. We brought home some homegrown pinto beans, cracked blue corn, books, pictures, a tiny bit of New Mexico chili powder, and memories that will warm our winter days that are gathering force to come our way much too soon for me. 

Last Day in New Mexico and Sites in Colorado

Friday morning and the week was going too fast. We headed north going to Tesuque Indian Flea Market. It is large but not many booths open on Friday morning. We looked around and enjoyed the looking. Bought a nice numbered print from a photographer and some basketry.

                                           Note the aspens....

Again, DH found a new road through familiar territory. We saw Ojo Caliente where warm springs were. It is a secluded place and would be fun to stay there sometime. The road had few travelers on it…we dawdled along looking a vistas. We stopped on top of a mountain pullout and had a diet soda, beef stick, and pretzel and called it lunch. Fine dining!  In the distance we could see bit of yellow aspens dripping across mountains like melted butter. We could tell that in the few days we had been out, the trees were really changing.

Then we saw a sign that said 18 miles east to Rio Grande Bridge. DH suggested we try it again so we instantly changed the plans, changed the direction. We headed for the bridge…found one of our favorite vendors and shopped like crazy! ( Unfortunately, a second jumper had taken his own life that week...two in one week.) So we then went a few miles on, returned to the Enchanted Circle, and headed for a motel in Raton.

The roadside to Raton was loaded with pronghorns. It was a great drive north seeing these antelope.

We drove in early morning across the Comanche National Grasslands. Our destination was Bent’s Fort near La Junta, Colorado. We had been there years ago when the kids were small…translation: we did not see a lot. DH had read a history of Bent’s Fort and another of the Santa Fe Trail this summer so we decided to look again. Great decision too. This was a real highlight of the trip…like a whole new place. Bent’s Fort was pivotal in settling the West…was where the Santa Fe Trail broke into southern and northern routes.  

The adobe fort had two levels. From the top, men could see the surrounding areas and watch who was coming in to trade. There is an amazing amount of room in this fort, but the rooms are small and dark. But the adobe kept it cool in summer, warm in winter. 

Note the size of this wagon...it was large to haul suupplies and freight over the prairies.

The West, Taos High Road and Los Alamos

On the High Road we looked for Anasazi beans but found only pintos and some heirloom ones called Bolitos. Once back on the Low Road, we headed for Los Alamos. We had always opted to avoid this side trip because other things were on our Must See List. This time, I had read Wives of Los Alamos and wanted to see the compound where the atomic bombs Fat Man and Little Boy were developed. The museum there was nice but too full of technology. DH loved it and wished he had more time. For both of us the 15 mile drive out was worth it due to scenery. The views were phenomenal and probably my favorites of the day.

Then it was Santa Fe and the Sage Inn, a rest, and then out to supper at the Cowgirl where locals and tourists both congregate.  The food is wonderful and there is music. You can sit inside or outside in a patio build around a tree strung with tiny white lights to listen to the music. We opted to be outside even though it did get cool. A man and a woman were sitting with a drink at our reserved table and the waitress was going to make them move. I said they could stay and once again at the Cowgirl we met some very original people! Veronica said she was a master permanent makeup artist, sort of like tattoos? She lived in a very nice area of Santa Fe with many famous people, and she said she was having coffee with Ali McGraw in two days.

Gray or Ray, never quite sure, said he was a scholar…that he wrote about Western Religions and set up social media sites for people. He was a very different fellow. (He is standing in front of the glass and has his hands in his pockets.) They advised us on what to eat. I got a smoky chicken short stack which was blue corn tortillas and beans. It was so hot! I ate the chicken and beans and some of the tortillas, but had to stop due to the heat. Gray asked if he could take the rest home with him. Ah, okay…so the waitress brought him a box and he scraped my leftovers into it with my fork.

Then they both suggested an ice cream potato for dessert. DH and I shared one, and alas, we took no picture. It looked exactly like a huge backed potato….vanilla ice cream in a football shape…rolled in powered chocolate, split in top with a square of butter (white chocolate) and a mound of sour cream (whipping cream). It was a fun desert!

The next morning we headed for the square early so we could get a parking place. Got a good one right across from the cathedral. We meandered through the shops and stores…studied jewelry sold by Indians under the portal of Palace of Governors. Everything is SO expensive here but fun to mosey around and look. We sat in the square on benches…watched pigeons…absorbed New Mexico air.

For lunch we went to The Shed, a home-owned place for 60 years or more. I got help I choosing my food and heat here. It was all wonderful! You could sit outside but we opted for inside rather than wait a half hour. I got a cup of posole with my meal and it was best I have ever tasted. I am definitely going to try to make this! The waitress said when she was sick as a child, this is what made her feel better…a version of our chicken soup! DH and I also shared a cup of Chilled raspberry

 soup…different and good.

                                                Orchids in window at The Shed   

Then we took our little bags and tired feet to the motel room and were in for the evening as we were quite tired.

Taos on Day Three

Nightfall found is in Taos where we stayed at the Taos Inn, a set of old adobe buildings right across from the town square. There is a patio eating, inside restaurant, and a bar as well. This is a known place for the Taos people to linger. We were so tired by the time we reached here, we did not avail ourselves of much. We checked in and then walked across the street to eat at a balcony restaurant, and then walked back to it in the bar/lounge to listen to the night’s music. Unfortunately, DH does not like bluegrass and that was the choice that night. The group was very good and we stayed a while before heading straight to bed.

We were going on to Santa Fe but not before driving out to the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge. We had seen it before but were looking for some favorite vendors that set up there. We got into a long, backed up line. Finally we were told it would be two more hours at least since someone had just jumped off the bridge. The rescue units were there already. So sad, and we turned back.

We caught sight of a sign: Red Willow Farmer’s Market and we followed the directions out to near the Taos Pueblo. Of a dirt road, tucked into some bushes and small trees was an open market of about seven vendors. Such interesting things…some beautiful carrots!!! So tasty and sweet. I bought some parched blue corn for posole and the most delightful gal gave me a recipe to use. She gave me tips on how to use blue corn flour too. My one effort at posole was not very good, but I will give this new recipe a try.

Then we headed out of town on the Taos High Road. It is so, so beautiful this drive. Slow and easy…air clean and pure…clouds that look like you could wrap your arms around them. 

Heading West, New Mexico Day 2

We got up and took out to the border. We watched carefully for pronghorn but saw nary a one. We reached Springer, New Mexico, a mere crossroads. This year we found the favorite historic Brown Hotel up for sale. SO sad.  We left town on a new road and drove another 83 miles without a pronghorn. It seemed like a long ride without our antelope friends!

We reached Clayton…on to Cimarron, collection of houses with an outlaw past, on to Eagle’s Nest and up into the mountains to drive the Enchanted Circle. We have been at this spot several times so it was like coming home. Autumn tinges of orange and yellow brushed the top of trees and wildflower patches. We stopped in Red River and bought some forbidden fudge, a chocolate/red chili combo I wanted to bring to friends.

Next destination was Questa. Such history here, but also a church project we have been following. They are coming along nicely and the story is super interesting. I will try to find a short version for readers. Many old adobe churches dot New Mexico. St. Anthony’s in Questa doubled as a fort from Indian attacks in its early history. But the adobe wall began to cave in. The Catholic Church heads wanted the church torn down and replaced with metal building. The congregation refused, took it on as a nonprofit organization, and began to save the wall themselves. The people have stirred mud, made bricks, build the wall again only to have other points begin to cave. They refused to give up again and kept going. The men went into the forest themselves and chopped 300 year old trees and shaped them into beams.

All went well and many people like us were moved by the faith and dedication to this old church. They are replacing an original choir loft while redoing the church. At Easter this last year, they were sawing into a log when something appeared on the log. The men stepped back as they saw a Madonna holding a lamb. Women tend to see a Madonna holding a babe. The people were moved as they think this is a sign from God. No matter what you see, faith is moving mountains (and trees) in Questa, New Mexico.

Below the church sits an old truck, some horses, and a field of wild purple asters. The scene is beautiful.