Christmas Gifts

There’s no doubt that my family is fully engaged in the commercialization of Christmas, like it or not. But it’s good to see signs that my daughters also embrace the true spirit of giving gifts and showing compassion for friends and family.

We finally made it back to the National Cemetery in Santa Fe to see the new headstone for Grandpa Carlos and Grandma Rise. Despite the cold, wintery weather, it was a nice visit, especially for Isabella. She had been anxiously waiting to leave some special gifts for her great-grandparents.

We looked forward to seeing the headstone during a trip to Santa Fe in September. Bella had planned on leaving a rosary on the headstone, but forgot it at home that day. Following breakfast, we made our way to the Cathedral to get another rosary, but we didn’t want to interrupt mass. So we made a last-ditch effort to find something at the Five-and-Dime on the plaza. Sure enough, Bella found two stones, one with a cross and another with a heart, as well as a rosary. But we chose the wrong day because the annual Fiestas parade blocked traffic and the entrance to the cemetery for hours. Bella was heartbroken and cried on our way back to Albuquerque.

Isabella places mementos on the headstone of her great-grandparents

Carin and Isabella

This past weekend, we went back to Santa Fe to shop for Christmas gifts and grab breakfast at the Pantry. This time, we made it to the National Cemetery, and got a chance to see the headstone. Unfortunately, it was so cold, we couldn’t spend much time there. But Bella was able to get leave the stones and the rosary. After we got back in the car, she sent photos to my Dad, her Papi, and said she was sad and that she missed Grandma Rise. My Dad was touched, and wrote back that he’s sure his parents, Bella’s great-grandparents, were thankful that she thought about them at Christmas.

70 Years of Discrimination

Before she died, my Grandma Rise told me about the time my Grandpa Carlos encountered discrimination just before heading to Europe in World War II. I was appalled, but not necessarily surprised. That was in 1940s Texas. 

 

Lt. Carlos Gallegos

My surprise, and shock, came just last week when my own daughter – the great-granddaughter of my Grandpa Carlos -- was on the receiving end of some very nasty name-calling that focused on the color of her skin. Fortunately, I don’t think she understood the significance of the anonymous comments over the Internet. She just knew the language was vulgar and mean. I, however, was livid.

I guess some things haven’t changed in 70 years.

In my Grandpa’s case, his encounter with discrimination was unfortunately commonplace. Probably not so much in Las Vegas, NM, where dark skin and mixed bloodlines were the norm. In fact, the patch he wore on his Army uniform reflected the Spanish and Native American heritage of so many of the National Guardsmen from New Mexico and three neighboring states. But Texas was another story.

The story, as told my Grandma, was that my Grandpa and some Army buddies left the base at Fort Hood to go to see a movie in a nearby town. But they were told that Mexicans were not allowed. They apparently complained and the theater was closed, at least temporarily.

When I heard my Grandma tell the story, my journalistic instincts kicked in, and I was hesitant to write about the incident without trying to verify the facts. I tried to find a newspaper story about the incident, without luck. I went back and recorded an interview with my Grandma. She was sure the incident happened, but she couldn’t remember exactly when or where, which is understandable.

Still, the story was amazing to me, regardless of the details, because I couldn’t believe a soldier – an officer – who was about to put his life on the line for his country, would be treated that way. I’m quite certain that my Grandpa’s ancestors occupied this land for centuries before the racists who tried to deny him a seat at that movie theater.

I recently watched the PBS series called Latino Americans with great interest. The producers devoted an entire segment to the injustices suffered by many war heroes when they returned home from World War II.

Hispanics volunteered and served in record numbers, according to the program, and 10 Hispanics earned the Medal of Honor. Yet, they returned to restaurants in Texas with signs, sponsored by the Lonestar Restaurant Association, that read: “No Dogs, Negroes, Mexicans.” Other establishments had signs that read: “We Serve White’s only, no Spanish or Mexicans.”

 

Macario Garcia Receives Medal of Honor from President Truman

“Denying Mexican-Americans service in a restaurant wasn’t illegal. And happened so often, it wasn’t even newsworthy,” according to the narrator of the PBS series. One incident in particular featured Macario Garcia, the first Mexican National to earn the Medal of Honor, who was denied service at a local diner. The incident raised this question: “How could a country that felt an enormous debt toward its veterans, treat some as second-class citizens?”

Playwright Luis Valdez told the following story to PBS about his experience in 1940s Delano, CA, where whites sat in the middle section of the local movie house, while Mexican-Americans were delegated to the sides.

“In 1946, there was a young guy by the name of CC, he was a pachuco, he was a zoot suiter, who went off to the Navy, came back, put on his civvies, and he went to the movies,” said Valdez. “And since he was serving his country, he felt that he had a right to sit wherever he wanted. So he came and sat in the middle. He wouldn’t move, so the police arrested him. There was no law that said you couldn’t sit in the middle. So they couldn’t charge him with anything, not even disturbing the peace; he was pretty peaceful. So they grilled him for a couple of hours and then released him. And everybody noticed. They said, hey CC got away with it. He sat in the middle. So the following week, everybody sat in the middle section. And the town movie house was desegregated. And that happened across the entire valley.

“Some 20 years later when I told my mom I was going back to Delano to work with the union, she said, oh, you’re going to work with CC. I said CC? Is that vato still around? And she said, Mijo, don’t you know who CC is? He’s Cesar Chavez.”

Fittingly, I took my daughter with me today to a Downtown church to draw attention to the need for Congress to pass comprehensive immigration reform. Isabella and I were with my boss, Congresswoman Michelle Lujan Grisham, who agreed to fast for 48 hours in solidarity with immigrants who are separated from their families during Thanksgiving. Isabella was touched by the stories and one of the mothers who broke down in tears at the thought of being separated from her family.

During the ceremony, I thought about Cesar Chavez, who was featured during a lengthy segment of the PBS series. The program showed footage of Chavez talking about immigrant farm workers who were being exploited in the agriculture fields of California: “They endure all the sacrifices and all the suffering so you can eat and I can eat. These men and women and children feed all of us, and they don’t have any food for themselves. And we’re going to change it. It’s going to be changed.”

Grandma Rise Turns 91

Gil Sr., Isabella, Grandma Rise, Carin and Bea

Grandma Rise turned 91 today – a year after she lost a bet in which she wagered that she wouldn’t make it to 90. Last year, not long after she made her new home at a rehab center in Albuquerque, my grandma turned 90 and joked about how she lost a $5 bet with her daughter, Martha. Often fatalistic about her future, Grandma Rise never thought she would live to see old age, much less find herself still placing bets in her 90s. But she made it to 90, and now 91, and there are no signs of slowing down.

Grandma Rise is the nickname for my paternal grandmother, who I’ve always known as Grucella Gallegos. Her maiden name is DeTevis, and I was puzzled when I first started my genealogy research and looked for her name in the 1920 baptismal records for Our Lady of Sorrows in Las Vegas. It took some time, but I eventually found it – Maria Riselda, born Jan. 9, 1921, baptized Jan. 23, 2011, and the daughter of Antonio DeTevis and Emilia Alire. Her padrinos were Luis Lorenzo and Rosa Alire.

I asked my grandma about the name Riselda, and why she went by Grucella. She said a teacher told her one day when she was a young girl that there was no such name as Riselda. So, from then on, my grandma went by Grucella.

As for the exact date of her birthday, that’s always been a question mark. For as long as I can remember, she celebrated on Jan. 2, even if that wasn’t quite right. Now that I’ve found her baptismal record, it’s safe to say that her actual birthday is on the 9^th. But why worry about that now? If I were to mention it to her now, she would probably want to make a $5 bet.

We had to cancel our little birthday celebration with grandma earlier today because some of our cousins had already taken her some cupcakes. As my daughters are always quick to remind me, we have to be careful about the food and snacks that we take to grandma because she has diabetes and always has to watch her glucose levels. So, the cake will wait until next week. Instead, we decided to get her some menudo from El Modelo.

When we took her the menudo, she was very excited and bragged to one of her buddies that she was going to have a good dinner tonight. It also reminded her of a story that she had told us before, but one that I never get tired of hearing.

There was a meat market that I remember near my great-grandparents’ home on New Mexico Avenue in Las Vegas. Grandma Rise said they used to sell tripe, or menudo, for 50 cents at that market. But you had to clean it yourself. One time, my Grandpa Carlos was cleaning the tripe outside his house on 8^th Street. Grandma Rise was in the kitchen and watched him as he went inside the house every little while to take a drink of beer (Schlitz, no doubt.) In the words of Grandma Rise: “One time he came in for a drink of beer and there goes a dog with the tripe in his mouth, running down the street. Grandpa ran after the dog, saying, ‘You son of a…’”

Happy Birthday, Grandma!

Carin and Grandma Rise

Carin and Great-Grandma Grucella "Rise" Gallegos

Christmas started a week early for my family. We had a very nice lunch with my Grandma Rise at the rehab center where she is staying in Albuquerque. Before going, I told my 11-year-old daughter, Carin, that I wanted to write a little something about her relationship with her 90-year-old great-grandmother. (Carin reminded me that Grandma turns 91in less than two week.) Carin probably goes at least two or three times a week with her grandfather to the rehab center to see his mother. She loves to go, and never turns down an offer to go.

Isabella Gallegos and Great-Grandma Grucella "Rise" Gallegos

Her seven-year-old sister, Isabella, also enjoys going and loves spending time with Grandma Rise, especially pushing her in her wheelchair. But Bella is also like me – often a homebody and not afraid to say she’d rather stay at home.

But Carin seems particularly attached to Grandma Rise. When I asked her why she likes going, she said (half-jokingly) that she likes to get out of the house. I know that’s part of it. If she had her way, and she usually does, she would spend her entire weekend with her grandparents. I also think she has a special place in her heart for Grandma Rise. I remember her also being attached to my Grandpa Louie before he passed away. But she’s older now, and Carin can sit with Grandma Rise and carry on a conversation about anything and everything. Grandma can’t hear everything Carin says, but she always smiles and enjoys every word. They also love to joke around, usually with my dad leading the way. Their favorite word, at the moment, is “dumbbell.” They have no shame in calling each other, or anyone else, a dumbbell if they act like one.

You hear a lot about children and elderly people sharing a special connection. I’m not really sure I was the same way when I was that age. I have great memories of all of my grandparents, and the little time I knew my great-grandparents. But I was extremely shy, and think I felt a little intimidated by them, at least when I was young. I also never lived in the same city as my grandparents, which may have had something to do with it. I also feel like I’m a late-bloomer in that I tend to appreciate things, people and relationships a little more as I get older. Carin probably gets this more nurturing trait from her mom, Yvette, who has always had a way with patients, especially older patients, at the hospital where she works.

Carin also seems to better appreciate and is taking advantage of her relationship with Grandma Rise and all of her grandparents at a young age. She doesn’t necessarily understand my fascination with family history. But knowing her like I do, I’m sure that someday she is going to look back on these memories and cherish them.