Saturday, March 8, 2025

Write Your Own Songs

The the subconscious mind sometimes used dreams to process complex emotions and daily experiences in symbolic form. Often I wake up from dreams tired and emotionally drained. Yesterday, I didn't feel well. I have a genetic heart condition so sometimes I get extremely tired for no apparent reason. I was tired all day, the political news for the past 6 weeks has been draining, so my last thought before I went to sleep was that I wanted to have a restful night without having one of my crazy dreams that sometimes leave me feeling wiped out in the morning. Great news! I woke up this morning after having a dream about Willie Nelson. We were in the recording studio laughing so hard at the song he was recording. I was literally laughing out loud when I woke up. It was like a combination of being with Willie at the Pedernales Recording Studio in Spicewood in the 80's when I worked there and being on the movie set with Timothée Chalamet filming the Bob Dylan movie "A Complete Unknown." I was totally in my element and Willie's song had several layers of messages just like the Kendrick Lamar half time show at the Super Bowl. 

The music executives were at the recording studio with their suits on, looking down on the the rest of us at the studio who were dressed very casual. The recording engineer said take 2 and Willie went totally off the rails and started singing the song "You Can Write Your Own Songs." Everyone except the record executives were cracking up laughing. It was with the same playfulness that Timothée had in the scene in "A Complete Unknown" when he started the song "Highway 61 Revisited" with a siren whistle.

So my subconscious mind just threw together all the thoughts I had been having of the Kendrick Lamar's awesome multi-layerd protest half time show, Timothée Chalamet's amazing performance in "A Complete Unknown," and the horrible meeting that President Zelenskyy had in the Oval Office when he was asked why he wasn't wearing a suit to the White House. My mind came up with Willie singing "You Can Write Your Own Songs" in the studio to the jerks who didn't like the way he was dressed.

This song was released in 1982. I had a 4 year old daughter and a 2 year old son and was getting divorced. The fact that this particular song would pop up in my subconscious is nothing short of a miracle. Thank you again Willie, for always being there with just the right words of wisdom. You never cease to amaze me.



Click here to listen to "Write Your Own Songs"

Write Your Own Songs
By Willie Nelson
You call us heathens with zero respect for the lawWe are only songwriters just writing our songs and that's allWe write what we live and we live what we write is that wrongIf you think it is Mr. Music ExecutiveWhy don't you write your own songs
And don't listen to mine, they might run you crazyThey might make you dwell on your feelings a moment too longWe're making you rich and you're already lazySo just lay on your ass and get richer or write your own songs
Mr. Purified Country don't you know what the whole things aboutIs your head up your ass so far that you can't pull it outThe world's getting smaller and everyone in it belongsAnd if you can't see that Mr. Purified CountryWhy don't you just write your own songs
And don't listen to mine, they might run you crazyThey might make you dwell on your feelings a moment too longWe're making you rich and you're already lazySo just lay on your ass and get richer or write your own songsSo just lay on your ass and get richer or write your own songs

Monday, February 24, 2025

From the Days of Old Until 1976 - Doña Rosita Valdez Padilla

Yesterday I was working on my Ancestry family tree. Looking back at family history makes me feel different emotions every time I read it. Kind of like listening to my favorite songs from high school. I react differently, depending on my age or mental state of mind. I was rearranging photos of my grandma, Doña Rosita Valdez Padilla and I found an endearing photo of her taken shortly before she died at the age of 92 in 1976. The photo had been published in a book by Samuel Leo Gonzales called  "The Days of Old." I had forgotten that there was an entire chapter about my grandma in the book and the importance of that chapter to my family history.


So yesterday I decided it was time to reread the book from a different perspective. I cleaned 3 book shelves and found lots of cool stuff, but I didn't find the book I was looking for. This morning I finally found an online article about Mr. Gonzales from the "Las Vegas, New Mexico Optic Online News." The story was actually picked up from "The Santa Rosa Communicator" and written by my cousin, Davy Delgado. Published on January 29, 2023, after Mr Gonzales' death.

Click here -->  Link to story by Davy Delgado

I still couldn't find Mr. Gonzales' self published book, but fortunately, I had copied the chapter written about grandma and posted it on my Ancestry family tree years ago. The chapter about my grandma is shown at the end of this blog post. Here's a paragraph that's heart warming. Mr Gonzales wrote:

"Doña Rosita Valdez de Padilla lived in Puerto de Luna in the home of one of her sons, José. At 92 years of age, she had an excellent remote memory. She spoke of those people who had long since passed away, as if she had visited with them recently. Our conversations were conducted in "good ole" New Mexico Spanish. She shared information concerning her family, friends, and old customs and traditions that some of us wish were still with us today. Her humble home was one of the most hospitable places this writer has ever visited."

Painting Of My Grandma's House
By Christina Fajardo

My grandma's adobe house, across the road from the Puerto de Luna mountain was in fact hospitable. It was insightful and sweet to read the subject matter that was important enough for her to mention when interviewed by Mr. Gonzales. She spoke of her younger years when her grandfather was good friends with Lorenzo Labadie. I found this to be extremely interesting because Lorenzo was my father's maternal great-grandfather. Lorenzo had been a Lieutenant Colonel, then a sheriff, an Indian Agent and then a census taker in his 70's.  When I first started doing ancestry research, I learned so much from Lorenzo Labadie's excellent record keeping on the census of the late 1800's and 1900. For months late at night as I researched my ancestry, I felt that Lorenzo and I became best friends because I would go down these rabbit holes of his record keeping.

Then Grandma Rosita spoke of the time her husband, Ascención Padilla, came to ask for her hand in marriage. I never meet my grandpa, he died in 1949, at the age of 73 of a stroke. I've only seen photos of him when he was an old man. But my mom used to describe her beloved father as a big, handsome, kind man with blue eyes. I imagine him looking and acting like my son, Christian. They're both Aries. My grandma was a sweet, tiny woman, barely 5 foot tall and 100 pounds, soaking wet. 

My Grandpa
Ascencion Padilla


Nita, Christina and Grandma Rosita
At Thompson Park, Amarillo, Texas

Now that I am older, I regret that I wasn't able to spend more time with grandma after I graduated high school in 1973. I wanted to live in New Mexico, but my parents had other plans. In 1976, at the time of her death, I was living on a farm in Manchaca, Texas with my soon to be husband, Davis. It was next to impossible to take trips to New Mexico because Davis and I had a horse, cows, chickens and a garden. I'm pretty sure I felt drawn to that lifestyle because of the memorable time I spent on grandma's farm in Puerto de Luna. Grandma's farm on the Pecos River held an indescribable magic and I obviously wasn't the only one that felt it. 

My Dad riding my horse, Carmen
Manchaca, Texas

My horse, Carmen, my dad and my cousin Wayne
Manchaca, Texas

We had our own kind of magic on Summer Tree Farm in Manchaca, Texas. Phillip and Deborah lived next door in a big beautiful stone house where Phillip and Deborah got married the weekend grandma Rosita died. Needles to say, we were busy in our young lives. Looking back, I like to believe that even though I didn't get to spend much time with my grandma in her last years, living with her on her farm for a year in high school had a huge impact on me as a person. 

Obviously Before Selfies, I took a photo of
Phillip and Deborah having dinner at our house.
Look at all the cool posters on our wall.

Phillip and Deborah Fajardo's Wedding
Summer Tree Farm
Manchaca, Texas

Phillip and Deborah Fajardo's wedding
August 1976
Summer Tree Farm, Manchaca, Texas


Mom and Dad at Phillip and Deborah's Wedding

Davis and Christina
Phillip and Deborah's Wedding

My Brother Phillip with the black vest on
and a whole bunch of cousins
At Grandma Rosita's Funeral
Puerto de Luna, New Mexico


Nuestra Senora del Refugio Catholic Church
Puerto de Luna, New Mexico


Christina and Nita 
With Our Uncle Sam Henderson
Puerto de Luna

The writer, Samuel Leo Gonzales said Grandma's home was hospitable, not knowing that it was in fact my grandma's heart and soul that he connected with. I can only imagine how she was as a young woman. My mom told me that her favorite flowers were geraniums and hollyhocks. My favorites! I use to dream about having a living room dedicated to my grandma like the one she had. The walls were painted blushing pink with a deep red velvet couch and a matching rug on a dark wooden floor. The glass paneled French door to the living room was always closed because it was reserved for visitors. I never created that room but I have always had a chair like the one she sat in by the cast iron, pot belly, wood burning stove. When I lived with her during my junior year at Santa Rosa High, I had no idea that she was such a wealth of information. I took her at face value. A blind grandma who sat quietly waiting for her daily flow of neighbors. I should have known there was a steady stream of visitors because she was a wealth of information with amazing healing energy. Sort of like sitting with a purring cat. She and I didn't communicate easily due to our language barrier. She spoke mostly Spanish and I spoke mostly English. One of my older cousins told me later in life that she'd told him she used to feed Billy the Kid on the ranch in Ojitos. Years later, after many hours of research, as I was reading the list of people on the 1880 census in Ojitos, I discovered that Billy the Kid was in fact listed as a ranch hand  on the neighboring ranch that belonged to my great Uncle Hilario Valdez's father-in-law, John Gerhardt. In high school, I didn't understand the magnitude of the family history and knowledge grandma held. The crazy thing is that one of my all time favorite movies and sound track "Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid" was being filmed in 1972 when I was living right where it took place and I am a descendant of some of the characters in the movie.

When I think about it now, nearing the age of 70 and grasping the fact that I have fewer days ahead of me than behind me, I see the magnitude of having 8 generations of the Valdez branch of my family tree born in New Mexico. Most of them in Santa Fe, the oldest capital city in the US, established in 1607, making it both the oldest capital city in the country and the oldest European settlement west of the Mississippi.

Even though they don't really know American history, or even what America is, the new administration has put a new light on the fact that we are all one, regardless of borders. My grandma was born in New Mexico just 36 years after New Mexico had become part of the United States. Her father, (my great grandfather) Frebonio Valdez was born in 1846, in Santa Fe just 2 years before New Mexico became part of the United States and his father (my great-great grandfather)  Antonio Andres Valdez was born in 1817, in Santa Fe when New Mexico was still part of Spain. The borders were redrawn 3 times in just those 3 generations. Yet for the previous 4 generations New Mexico was part of Spain. 

With that being said, I write this blog of my family history for my children and grandchildren. Right now they are busy with their lives, however, one day they will slow down long enough to realize there were things they wish they would have asked me. We can't expect everyone to be on the same page but I am an big advocate of providing the information of family history because I believe in healing generational trauma.

Below I have attached 5 jpegs of the chapter in the book by Samuel Leo Gonzales called  "The Days of Old." 

Wednesday, January 29, 2025

"The Wagon Boss" Painting by Charles M Russell - Update

The synchronicities in my life are sometimes so astonishing that I have to write down the events to reflect back on the events at a later date. As I understand it, synchronicities occur because the connection between our individual psyche and the collective unconscious creates a sense of meaningful connection between our internal and external experiences. If one pays attention, seemingly random events line up and can be interpreted as signs from the Universe. These synchronistic events are part of the reason I write this blog. This post is going to touch on what appears to be a couple of different subjects that you will see actually all come together in the end.

In case you are new to my blog, the topics are largely about my profound connection to my ancestors, the majority of whom were the original Spanish settlers of New Mexico. I'm a first generation Texan... barely... I was born at St Antony's Hospital on Route 66 in Amarillo, just 50 miles east of the Texas/New Mexico border. Before my generation, both sides of my family had been in what is now New Mexico since Spain colonized the New Mexico region in 1598. Then, for 27 years between 1821-1848, New Mexico became part of Mexico when Mexico won its freedom from Spain. Then in 1848, the United States claimed the top 55% of Mexico which is now the western part of the United States including New Mexico, California, Arizona, Nevada, Utah and portions of Colorado and Wyoming.


Mexico also gave up its claims to Texas, hence recognizing the Rio Grande as the border between the United States and Mexico. It seems appropriate to be writing about borders right now since the newly appointed administration of the United States is trying to deport Mexicans and even Native Americans. Why? "Because they're not Americans." WHAT? Here we are again. As of inauguration day, January 20, those at the top are fighting the same old war. Not actually trying to take land but deporting people out of the United States. Call me crazy but Native Americans are just that. Native. According to archaeological and genetic evidence, Native Americans have been in America for at least 20,000 years. And as for the Mexicans... the western half of the United States used to be Mexico. Logically they have every right to be here. As for me... my family immigrated from Spain to New Mexico 427 years ago. I think it's safe to say this is my home.

My country is in an uproar. Along with all the other crazy distractions, the new administration is trying to change the name of "The Gulf of Mexico" to "The Gulf of America."


Yet, simultaneously, something really cool happened to me the other day. These synchronicities always happen when there is an uproar in our country, seemingly to help me process the madness and I am so very grateful for these positive little messages from the Universe.

A piece of artwork that had been in my family since the 1960's made it's way back to me on January 12. But first I have to tell the story about this piece of art and the artist who painted it and why it has anything to do with the uproar in the United States. 

The Fajardo's Thanksgiving dinner
1970 with "The Wagon Boss" 
on the knotty pine wall.
1804 Magnolia, Amarillo, TX

I had written about it in January of 2022 when I was in St Louis for my annual winter trip. But now I 
actually have the piece of art and I've learned more about the artist and his family. They were very much a part of the western states becoming a part of the United States in the 1800's. Here's a link to the blog from January 17, 2022 if you want to read it later.

https://christinafajardo.blogspot.com/2022/01/the-wagon-boss-by-charles-marion-russell.html

I wrote the above blog on a typical snowy winter day in St Louis. As I sat sipping mint tea, deep in thought, hundreds of miles away from my Central Texas home, I imagined that my son, grandchildren and I had been sent on a mission by our ancestors to this midwestern outpost in St Louis. The purpose? To heal some of our generational trauma. Why would I feel that? Well, a few male characters in my family tree came from the St Louis area in the mid 1800's and married into my large Spanish settler family. There was a big land grab going on out west after the United States had taken more than half of northern Mexico. It's always felt a little more than coincidental that my son would end up living right back in St Louis.

I had begun that day reading about the marriage of my cousin Josefa Jaramillo and her husband, the frontier legend, Kit Carson. They seemed to have a storybook romance. On the other hand, Josefa's older sister, Maria Ignacia Jaramillo was the common law wife of Charles Bent. He was equally as well known as his brother-in-law, Kit Carson. He was an American businessman who owned the most important trading post on the Santa Fe Trail called Bent’s Fort. It was the only permanent settlement that was not under the jurisdiction and control of the Hispanic or Native Americans citizens in the west. Charles Bent and his younger brother, William Bent started out as fur traders. Their father, Silas Bent was a prominent land surveyor and Supreme Court Judge for the Missouri Territory. The Bent brothers could have lived lives of ease in St. Louis but they saw the potential wealth in fur trading in the western territories.


It was common for men to "go west" to find fortune in the uncharted lands out west. It was also a known fact that to be successful out west, the protocol was to convert to Catholicism and to marry into a large, prosperous, land owning Hispanic family who had been well established citizens since the 1500's. In the case of Kit Carson, he converted to Catholicism and married Josefa Jaramillo. Charles Bent didn't want to convert to Catholicism so Maria Ignacia Jaramillo merely became his common law wife. 

I just discovered a book called "Blood in the Borderlands: The Rise and Fall of Charles Bent, 1829-1847" by David C. Beyreis. The book says that Charles Bent knew that he needed to be “plugged into” local power networks and "marriage" into a landowning Hispanic family was the best way in. But he just barely tolerated the people of New Mexico. On the surface his plan seemed to be working for him. The United States appointed him as governor in 1846 and his possibilities seemed limitless. But there was trouble brewing. The powerful Hispanic families and Native Americans of New Mexico felt that the new U.S. governor didn’t treat them with due respect. They feared that their land titles would become null and void and they’d lose their land. Only 4 months after Charles Bent became governor, a group of Native Americans and Hispanics gathered in the Taos plaza demanding the release of some Native Americans who had been jailed by U.S. troops. The Taos Revolt broke out and it ended with Governor Charles Bent being scalped and murdered.

Needless to say the Bent family was both powerful and controversial, depending on who recorded the history. Charles Bent and his brother William had been disowned by the Bent and Russell family. The Bent brothers had a sister named Lucy. Her full married name was Lucy Bent Russell. I found her grave at a cemetery in St Louis. 

Grave of Lucy Bent Russell

Of course that lead me down another rabbit hole and I discovered her grandson was the famous American artist of the American Old West, Charles Marion Russell. Also known as C.M. Russell, Charlie Russell or Kid Russell. Here's where my story comes full circle. When I was a child, my father worked as a furniture repairman at "Heath Furniture Store" in Amarillo, Texas. Our home was always decorated with the most fashionable Early American Furniture, upholstered with the most plush earth toned velvet fabrics. A large framed print of a Charles M. Russell painting "The Wagon Bosshung on the knotty pine paneled wall the living room above the couch. I never knew anything about the piece of art or the artist. To me it was just pretty piece of art from a nice furniture store. 

"The Wagon Boss"
Painted by Charles Marion Russell 
The original oil painting The Wagon Boss by Charles M. Russell
is owned by the Gilcrease Museum in Tulsa, Oklahoma.
The Thomas Gilcrease Foundation gifted the painting
to the museum in 1955

This masterpiece that I spent hours gazing at, was a print of a painting from 1909. The earth toned art matched the knotty pine paneling and the floral earth toned love seat, gold arm chair, polished end tables with gold lamps that were all perfectly arranged on the gold carpeted floors.

What a surprise to discovered as an adult that Charles M Russell was born in St Louis in 1864. He left home at the age of 16 and went west where he painted more than 2,000 paintings of cowboys, Native Americans and landscapes and created bronze sculptures set in the western United States.

Charles M Russell had been named after his Great Uncle Charles Bent but didn't follow in his footsteps. He was a gifted artist, storyteller, historian, writer and advocate for Native Americans. Totally opposite of his power and money hungry uncle.

This is where the story of the art by Charles M Russell and the uproar of the United States all come together. Earlier this month, I went to my step-daughter Sarah's birthday party. All of the women and kids were sitting around the dining room table talking and eating while the men were playing corn hole in the backyard. 

Ethridge Family
Dylan Ethridge, Adriane Ethridge, Davis Ethridge, Sherry Ethridge, Christina Fajardo, Sarah Ethridge, Jeanette Parr
and Emerson Ethridge

My ex-husband, Davis' wife Sherry casually says to me "I have a surprise for you." I said "What is it?" She proceeded to remind me that when Davis and I got divorced, I had left the 
Charles M Russell "Wagon Boss" painting in the closet and it was still there. I was in shock. She told me I could drop by their house and pick it up. So Dylan and I dropped by and picked it up. I brought it home with the intention of giving it to Dylan because he has asked for it. My parents had taken it out of the frame some time in the 70's and I am guessing I brought it home to Austin with me around that same time. It may have even hung over my fireplace at one time, I can't remember. 


At any rate it seemed magically synchronistic that the "Wagon Boss" would make its way back to me at this time when the political choices of our country's administration is mimicking the times when Charles M. Russell's power mongering Great Uncle Charles Bent had been appointed governor of New Mexico. A man with no moral compass, who had lived a life of privilege and lacked empathy towards people who didn't look like him or speak his language or practice his religion. Sound familiar? He was a lot like the man who bought his way into the White House earlier this month. 

It warms my heart that Charles M Russell went his own way and lived a life of empathy and compassion. This painting represents the kindness in Charles Russell's heart. He chose to spend his life helping the disenfranchised after his great-uncles had played such a huge part in doing just the opposite. Charles M. Russell, often called "the cowboy artist," is recognized for his significant contribution to portraying the positive Native American life and culture in his art. He used his platform as an artist to depict Native Americans as strong, dignified people. He also advocated for their rights through his paintings and writings, even going as far as supporting land rights for tribes by lobbying for the establishment of a reservation for them. 

Charles M Russell

In closing it warms my heart that my father chose a piece of art to hang in our home that was painted by someone who wasn't just a 
"cowboy artist." He was related to my family by marriage and a hero of mine. He was recognized for actively helping Native American tribes by deeply immersing himself in their culture and portraying their lives with respect and accuracy in his art, preserving their history accurately through his paintings. 

With love to you Charles M Russell. May your kind spirit live on forever.