FRANCISCO ANTONIO SISNEROS

During the “Year of Covid-2020” as I was under “house arrest” resulting from Covid-19 and chemotherapy restrictions, I used my time to reflect on my past and decided that my past was interesting enough that I should document my memoirs using anecdotes, especially anecdotes that recalled my early childhood as I grew up in Abo Viejo. Abo Viejo is located in southwestern Torrance County in central New Mexico at the foothills of the Manzano Mountains. I often make the distinction between Abo Viejo and Abo Nuevo because Abo Viejo is the settlement that surrounds the Pueblo Mission Ruins and Abo Nuevo, settled in 1907, is where the San Lorenzo church is, about three miles north of Abo Viejo. I now realize that growing up where I did, and in the times in which I lived, were very much a reflection of many cultures which combined to make our very own unique culture, call it, Abo Viejo culture. We lived in a culture of poverty and although we may have sensed it, we did not react to it because it was just the way it was. In spite of all the technological progress around us, our family remained poor even by those days’ standards.We lived in a culture of isolation. By this, I mean that even though there was mostly Anglo/Gringo traffic going up to the mission ruins, those tourists were not part of our lives. Our patria chica was just that, we lived in a relatively small circle of family and friends; we were rural people. We went to church, attended most of its functions, followed most of its rules, but we were not overly pious or religious.We lived among families that were affected by the lack of professional medical services. We lived among families where alcohol was a problem; there was no escaping the effects of this by the spouses and children. When we ventured outside of our familiar surroundings, we faced overt and subtle racism, especially in education and in participation in public office. All of these influences made our Abo Viejo culture most unique. It was our own particular brand of Hispanic culture. It was not Spanish culture, it was not Mexican culture, it certainly was not Anglo/Gringo culture. We spoke a Spanish that was unique to us; no one else in the world spoke it. Lamentably, my generation is the last generation that will speak this language. Our customs were a mismatch of many influences. The foods we ate reflected this unique culture. It was not Anglo/Gringo, it was not Spanish, it was not Mexican; it was nuevomexicano, and more particularly, it was Abo food. We liked Mexican music but we also enjoyed music in English.My youth was not all idyllic, although from hindsight it would seem so. I was young, I was innocent. Everything that surrounded me in my youth I feel to this day. Through all the happy and pleasant moments, and even through all the hardships, we remained a united family. We were well-grounded in our place and in our culture. Abo Viejo was our querencia, the place where we were born, the place we knew intimately, the place where we would rather be than any other place in the world. I long for this place when I am away from there. Sometimes I go visit to regain my strength. I’ll walk around or sit or find a place to sit and reflect on my life and on the life of my family. When people ask me where I’mfrom, I’ll tell them I live in Casa Colorada, but that I’m from Abo Viejo, from the Sisneros family of Abo Viejo. Here I have written some of what I remember as a youth. It is my communion with the past. I am grateful that I was born and raised in Abo Viejo, and I thank God and my parents for all of this.My memoirs reflect my youth to when I turned thirteen years of age. At that young age I entered into a totally different life from the one and only one I had known up to this time.