Finally! I Had MY Grandchildren At My house!

This month my eight and a half year old granddaughter, Jackie came to my home for the first time since she was less than a year old. In other words, this would become her first memory of being in her grandmother CiCi's home. Sad but true. She responded exact the way I always dreamed that she would. She immediately saw a framed photo of herself on the table in the entry way and on the walls and with the excitement of an 8 year old she twirled around once with a smile on her face and walked a few steps into the dining room and twirled around again with her arms spread out and said with a bright smile "I love your house! It feels like an art studio!" She had no idea that I had dreamed of this moment for years. 

You can't imagine the joy
I experienced being able to share
my artist space with my only granddaughter
for the first time in 8 years.

Having her wake up at my house
after sleeping with my adorable
kitty cat, Katie was magical. 

So, for the back story. My son's ex-wife is from St Louis. She went to The University of Texas in Austin and that is when she and my son met. Their fist of 2 children, Andrew was born and then they got married. Then they moved to St Louis. Their marriage fell apart just before my granddaughter was a year old. It has been the longest, ugliest eight year custody court battle that you can possibly imagine. My son, Christian has literally spent thousands of dollars on a multitude of attorneys and a guardian ad litem (a neutral person appointed by a court to investigate and advocate for the best interests of the children) And for what? Fighting for the rights he should naturally have as a father, to see his children. 

Nobody in our family had experienced this level of vengeance. I come from a close-knit Hispanic family and the core cultural value is defined by deep loyalty, strong emotional support and the inclusion of extended family. Christian's ex-wife grew up in a family where she was caught in the middle of a very ugly divorce, learning that keeping each other in court is way of life. Being caught up in the middle, children often absorb the stress, feeling forced to pick a side, feeling like they can't be nice to both of their parents. I divorced my children's father when they were very young because I didn't agree with his lifestyle but I never kept my children from him or made the children pick one side or the other.

Vengeance is ugly, hurtful and so very unnecessary. My wise brother, Phillip has always said, "Vengeance is not yours" and I live my life with that in mind. Generational trauma plays a huge part in how individuals handle emotions and relationships even when someone looks "nice" on the outside, you never know what their coping mechanisms have been learned. They may find it challenging to establish trust in relationships. 

Because the well being of 2 children has been the goal, we have had to just continue fighting the good fight, even when fighting doesn't come natural. I can proudly say my son has done more than any father I have ever seen, fighting for his right to be a wonderful father to his children. In general, the court system isn't fair to fathers. Fathers do not get equal treatment in court.

Christian, Andrew and Jackie
during one of their 4 hour visitation at Taco Circus

Christian, Andrew and Jackie
during one of their 4 hour visitation

My 16 year old grandson, Andrew was about 8 when the ugly divorce began. The first 4 years were horrible for everyone, but it was really hard on him. He had been very close to his dad for 8 years then suddenly he only got to see him for 4 hours on Wednesday and every other weekend and sometimes not even that often. 

Andrew and Christian at Andrew's football game

My son would go to his school and have lunch with him but eventually his mother made that impossible. She then took Andrew out of all of his extra curricular activities to keep my Christian from seeing his son at all, other than the mandatory weekly visits. There was one road block after another in the hateful game of keeping the children away from their father. 

There was a time when it had gotten so bad that the courts mandated that once a week the children be dropped off at the court house by their mother. Christian was to arrive shortly AFTER they were dropped off to picked them up. Arriving at the exact time specified, going through a security check, just like at TSA at the airport. Waiting to pick up his children in a small windowless room at the courthouse and returning them at the exact time specified 4 hours later.

Wednesday pick up at the courthouse

When my son first moved out from living with his wife and 2 children, he had opened a new restaurant, Taco Circus and bought a 2 story building with the restaurant downstairs and a very cool, large one bedroom apartment above his restaurant. 

Christian at Taco Circus

Taco Circus

Christian and Jackie at Taco Circus

Taco Circus

Meanwhile, he was having to jump through all kinds of hoops just to have visitations with his children. He had his house inspected by the guardian ad litem and then the ex-wife insisted in court, that my son live in a house where the children had their own bedrooms even though they only came to his house once weekly for 4 hours. So he rented and later bought a large 2 story, 4 bedroom house with a basement and a large yard. Still the children only came over for 4 hour visitations so they never even spent time in their bedrooms because their 4 hours with their father were spent driving to and from the court house and feeding them dinner, then having just enough time time spend a few minutes playing together before their time was up. 

Christian's house

Meanwhile, the ex-wife had remarried to a man with a teen-age daughter. They live in a very small 3 bedroom house, the parents had a bedroom, the teenager had a bedroom, Andrew and Jackie shared a bedroom with bunk beds. Jackie slept on the couch in the living room. It seemed that the petty demands didn't go both ways and the guardian ad litem never inspect the children's mother's house. 

For 4 years holidays were just sad. The children never got to go see their dad or his side of the family for holidays. My son would think of ways to work around the crazy rules. He would put a Christmas tree up in July and have "Christmas in July" and shower them with Christmas gifts.

Having fun posing as

Joseph and Mary for a manger scene

to make it as "Christmas"

as possible in the month of July

At the age of 12, my grandson, Andrew finally started running away from home so the courts allowed him to go live with his dad and has been living with him since. He is now 16. Even though Andrew lives with his dad, my son still pays child support for both children.

So here we are in July of 2023 and for the first time in 8 long years, my son got a court appointed week with both of his children. They flew here to Austin for 5 days. It had been 8 long years of NEVER having my whole family together. Never sitting down to dinner together. Never having a sleep over at my house with my only granddaughter. We had to fit the 8 lost years into a 5 day period and made sure to make every minute count. 

Jackie and Christian

Davis, Sarah, Emmie, Jackie, Sherry, Adriane,
Andrew, Christian, Christina Jeanette
The Whole Ethridge family together
for the first time in 8 years,
except for Dylan

The day they were leaving Austin to go back to St Louis, I met them at Kerby Lane Cafe for one last meal together before they left town. I ordered my usual, 1 pancake, 1 egg and 1 slice of bacon. I asked  my son " Who does this breakfast remind you of?" He said "Grandpa." A look of concern came over my granddaughter's face and she said "Who is Grandpa? Andrew leaned over and said "Grandpa was CiCi's dad, I didn't meet him either because he died before I was born." All of a sudden I realized that she too had been taking notes at all the things she had missed out on in her 8 years of life. There seemed to be a determination that now that she knew there was much more, she was not going to miss out on it anymore.

The Arrival of the Montoya Family in New Mexico Part 1

I've been told many times that I should write a book about my ancestry research. This task would be next to impossible. I would have to settle on one ancestor and there are too many ancestors and too many intertwining stories to fit into one book. I've watched "Finding Your Roots" many times and Henry Louis Gates is usually hard pressed to find one ancestor in the famous person's past who is a historic figure. It's mind boggling to look into my family's past and find Hernando Cortes, Juan Onate, Kit Carson, Billy the Kid, just to name a few.

I started this journey to answer a few questions, then quickly realized the more I learn, the more questions I had. I discovered an extremely complex history filled with thousands of people and just as many challenges. There are so many perspectives from which to tell each story. Fortunately, my family has hundreds of years of recorded history, thanks to the Catholic church. I never expected to be able to look up so many of my ancestors in Wikipedia. There are hundreds of stories filled with exciting, romantic stories of my family immigrating from Spain to Mexico and then up to New Mexico beginning with Hernando Cortes in 1547. There are monuments, schools, buildings (castles) and streets named after many of my ancestors. All the while, I have to take into consideration that they came to conquer so there were atrocities and bloodshed. The pain and suffering has caused deep scars stored in my families DNA. We pass those wounds from generation to generation and the scabs can be picked off and the bleeding begins again until someone in the family is willing to do the work to heal the family dynamics. 

Today, Tuesday, April 18, is World Heritage Day. 

I've decided to write about the time in history when much of the controversy in New Mexico began.

In 1583 King Philip II of Spain's decree for the settlement of New Mexico was a call for a wealthy individual to step up and finance an expedition to what is now New Mexico. Juan de Oñate was not the only nobleman to put in a bid for the position of colonizer, but he was the best connected. On September 21, 1595 Juan de Oñate was awarded the contract by King Philip II  to settle New Mexico. Oñate was the first European to colonize New Mexico, thus extending the Comino Real by 600 miles and he was the state's first colonial governor.

El Comino Real or The King's Highway A single highway which connected Mexico City, and Santa Fe 

The king and his council approved missionaries to go to the Americas with the primary objective to spread Catholicism to the indigenous population. Oñate began the "Entrada" in early 1598 with a large caravan of settlers, missionaries and livestock to establish a colony.

This is all important to my family history because Oñate was my 10th great-granduncle and many of my other ancestors were colonists on this historical expedition. I know it's controversial to even say that these days but I can't change the past and where I came from. I feel like I can be proud of my Spanish heritage without maintaining some of the colonizer values as much as I can be an American today without agreeing with the politics, especially in the state of Texas, where I live.

I have mixed emotions about the statues of Oñate being taken down in 2020. To me, they were beautiful pieces of art and it represented our past. I don't agree with some of the things that have occurred in the name of Catholicism but I don't want all the churches torn down. They are a part of our history. I just have to wonder if toppling statues across America was necessary. It's history and we can't change our history. We can only attempt to do better in the future and maybe use the statues as a reminder.

Is it possible that some colonists came hoping to create a utopian society in the new world. Maybe some enlisted in hopes of extracting all the riches they could from the far off lands. I have often wondered why the Spanish King didn't take into consideration that the native people in the Americas had their own religion and customs. 

Due to the "Entrada" New Mexico became known as "Tierra de Guerra" "The Land of War." Land grants were given to the colonists and empowered them to collect tribute from the forced labor of natives. Oñate wasn't a saint by any means, but at the same time, the Spanish brought with them thousands of horses, cattle, mules, sheep, pigs, goats, wine and the mining industry.

La Jornada

The La Jornada  - Interaction of mothers with
their children on the long journey

La Jornada shows the animals brought
with them on the long journey

Juan de Oñate statue formerly stood in Albuquerque, NM.
The monument was removed in 2020

So as the story goes missionaries came to the Americas with an escolta (military escort or armed guard.) My 8th great-grandfather Bartolome de Montoya was an Alferez (2nd Lieutenant or ensign) He escorted a band of friars Santa Fe on the second Juan de Oñate expedition. The colony consisted of 65 settlers.

The Montoya family alone consisted of my eight great-grandparents Bartolome de Montoya, his wife, Maria de Zamora their 5 children, Francisco, Diego, Jose, Lucia and Petronila. They also had 25 servants, cattle and equipment needed to begin a new life in New Mexico.

The missionaries would bring with them a portable alter as they approached a group of natives and would begin preaching through a translator. They built churches, housing and a defensive wall with heavy gates. The architectural splendor of the missions is a part of the romantic past tied to song, poetry and history. Theoretically, the missions were designed for a ten-year period, after which the missionaries were expected to move on to newly established villas.

The scheduled plan of conversion of natives to Catholicism didn't go as planned because the natives resisted as one might imagine. In the long run, the Spanish immigrants spent much of their time defending their community from native raids. And then to complicate things, after conquering the natives and taking their land, they took their women. I am a product of that behavior. My 4th great-grandfather Esteban Padilla was the son of a woman listed on the census as a Native American servant. This makes telling my story somewhat complicated. I feel the effects of this behavior on a deep level as I look at the stories from many perspectives because the stories are never just black and white. Native Americans say they were tyrannized by Spaniards. Hispanics say New Mexico wouldn't have its unique hybrid Spanish-native culture if it weren't for their ancestors. 

Santa Fe, New Mexico was settled in 1607 making it the first European settlement west of the Mississippi River. It's the oldest Capitol in the United States. Albuquerque was founded in almost 100 years later in 1706 by Francisco Cuervo y Valdes. 35 families were required by Spain to create a settlement and they only had 12 families so as you can imagine they were making their own rules as they went. 

Just a little back story to keep the history straight:

In 1519 Spanish Conquistador Hernán Cortés (my 1st cousin 11 x removed) led an expedition that caused the fall of the Aztec Empire in Mexico led by Emperor Moctezuma II and brought it under the rule of the King of Castile. Cortés was part of the generation of Spanish explorers and conquistadors who began the first phase of the Spanish colonization of the Americas.

Bartolome de Montoya was born on January 1,1572 in Cantillana, Andalucia, Spain. He met his wife, Maria de Zamora when he arrived in Mexico (New Spain) She was an Aztec born in 1573 in Mexico City and was the daughter of Pedro de Zamora, the Mayor of Oaxaca, Mexico. Bartolome de Montoya was the progenitor of the Montoya surname in New Mexico and virtually all Montoya families from New Mexico descend from him so his name appears often when doing ancestry research.

Juan de Oñate's parents were from Spain, he was born in Mexico (New Spain) and married to Isabel de Tolosa Cortés de Moctezuma. Her grandmother was Isabel Tecuichpo de Moctezuma (the granddaughter of Emperor  Moctezuma II.

I always assumed that I was a Montoya on my dad's side of the family, because his full name is Felipe Montoya Fajardo. Early on in my ancestry research, I was surprised to discover a 1900 Puerto de Luna census that showed my father's mother was a Labadie. The census was very accurately transcribed my my grandmother's Uncle Lorenzo Labadie. My paternal grandmother, Josefita Labadie) was the daughter of Captain Juan Labadie y Sanchez. He died when she was young and her mother, Dorotea Chavez Labadie, remarried a man named Antonio Montoya. Dorotea and all of her children took his last name, Montoya. Then on the 1910 census, when my grandmother was 16, she was living with her older sister, Jesusita and her husband, Prudencio Duran and she was listed as Josefita Duran on the census. So I don't think there is a DNA connection to the Montoya bloodline on my dad's side even though he grew up with them but I know of 3 connections on my mom's side. Both sides of my family lived in Puerto de Luna, during the last 1800's and early 1900's and it seems like it was a close community who took care of each other.

So I conclude this blog with the history of the Montoya surname. Montoya is a Basque surname which makes sense because I am 14% Basque. It originally comes from a hamlet near Berantevilla in Álava, in the Basque region of northern Spain. During the Reconquista, it extended southwards throughout Castille and Andalusia. The name roughly translates to "hills and valleys."

Montoya and Lucero de Godoy Progenitors of New Mexico

Working on ancestry research is an amazing process. I currently have over 25,300 people listed on my family tree. The other day I felt that I had hit a brick wall. So I had a new goal of fixing some of the names that had double listings or had names that looked like they had been transcribed incorrectly. This task is never ending when one is working with names of ancestors from the 1500 or 1600's who originated in Spain. At that time in history, most people not only carried their father's surname but their mother's surname as well. Not having a full understanding of this, some people transcribe part of the last name as a middle name then to complicate things even more, many times when people in the United States transcribe the names, they added Don or Dona as a first name instead of using it as a suffix, not realizing that Don or Dona simply means Mr. or Mrs. So, needless to say, many times there have been issues joining my tree to another distant relative's tree on ancestry.com when the creator of the other tree has been overzealous with the titles. I sometimes find names that are two lines long. For example, I found one of my 8th great-grandfathers listed as "Conquistador Capitan Alferez Mayor Bartolome Jose de Montoya." He was in fact a Conquistador Capitan Alferez Mayor, however his name was "Bartolome de Montoya" so naturally, he didn't appear to be a match to the person on the other tree. I have become very familiar with him and his wife Maria de Zamora during my many years of ancestry research because they are my eight great-grandparents and he was the progenitor of the Montoya family in New Mexico. One can pretty much assume that if your ancestor came to New Mexico with Juan de Oñate they were a conquistador (a term used for a soldier or explorer) so writing it as part of their name is just a little redundant.

I started working on branch of my tree with a surname that I wasn't very familiar with that should read "Lucero de Godoy." You can't even imagine how many combinations of that name I found in my family tree.

The surname Lucero de Godoy in New Mexico began with Pedro Lucero de Godoy. He became the progenitor of thousands of Lucero de Godoy descendants of New Mexico. He is my eight great-grandfather and he married Petronila Montoya de Zamora, the youngest daughter of my other eight great-grandparents, Bartolomé de Montoya and his wife, Maria de Zamora. Much endogamy going on here? 

Pedro Lucero de Godoy arrived in the Villa de Santa Fe in 1617 at the age of eighteen. He came as a soldier-escort of wagon trains. I always wonder what motivated each of my ancestors to make the far-northern frontier of the Spanish empire their home. 

Bartolomé de Montoya and Maria de Zamora's son Diego de Montoya, attained the privilege of encomendero (an allotment of native labor) of the Pueblo of San Pedro, New Mexico. Encomenderos received tribute from the Pueblo Indians in return for armed military protection. 

Bartolomé de Montoya and Maria de Zamora's daughter, Petronila de Zamora, married Pedro Lucero de Godoy. I have read that he attained the privilege of encomendero (keeper of the land) I am guessing that means he was granted a land grant and and empowered him to collect tribute from the forced labor of natives. At any rate he became the progenitor of the New Mexican Lucero family.

Today, most of the people carrying the Montoya and Lucero surnames are descended of Diego and his sister Petronila, respectively. 

My 7th Great-Grandmother, Josefa Baca - Matriarch of Pajarito Land Grant

One of the main reasons I started doing ancestry research was that I saw a need for diverse family histories to be written for future generations. Not only have women been treated as second-class citizens, but it goes unsaid that women have not been represented well in history. I personally know that my mother is a huge part of my immediate family history. 50% to be exact. Why hasn't that strong feminine presence been reflected in history books? I spent a couple of months with my mother just before she passed away creating a slide show for her memorial service. She picked out the photos and the text to be written. It was an amazing experience and I realized how important it was to have her history told from her perspective. When I retired I had time to take it a step further and create a written account of my family in my blog christinafajardo.blogspot.com

I never enjoyed history class, I thought it was because most of my history teachers were coaches who were only interested in football. Then I realized that not only was the class itself lopsided, history itself was lopsided, largely written by men. Specifically, the men who won the battles, the wars. Men who conquered, took land, cattle and women. The stories of women were white washed and minimalized. Historically women have been used as pawns so I just kept searching until I found some success stories.

I recently came across a story about my 7th great-grandmother, Josefa Baca. She was born in 1682 in Pajarito, New Mexico. Pajarito is just outside of Albuquerque’s city limits. It is situated between the South Valley communities of Los Padillas to the south and Atrisco to the north. The Rio Grande sits to the east and the West Mesa is to the west.

Josefa Baca
Matriarch of Pajarito Land Grant

Her family arrived with the Oñate colonizers in 1598. Even though she never married she was able to acquired the Pajarito land grant and founded a ranch with 950 head of sheep, horses, cattle, and goats with her livestock brand.

Josefa’s marital status and identity of her 6 children’s father cannot be determined. Perhaps the social status of her parents positioned her to acquire the land. It's interesting that Josefa obtained a land grant given that she lived in a patriarchal society. As an unwed or perhaps widowed woman it would have been hard for her to become a land owner. Although it's also possible that besides her family connections the unknown father influenced her acquisition. Another possibility is that she had certain skills that played into the Spanish legal system that allowed women to own land and property unlike the English/ U.S. colonial system were women did not have this right.

Pajarito Hacienda and Covered Wagon

Pajarito Hacienda

Regardless of their mother’s marital status and the unknown identity of their father, Josefa’s children acquired the Pajarito land grant and established the village of Pajarito. Josefa became the progenitor of generations of New Mexicans. The Village of Pajarito developed around the Baca family compound. The Sitio de San Ysidro de Pajarito, which included a hacienda and large tract of land south of present-day Albuquerque.

Land grant records show that Josefa Baca left it to her children and other Pajarito residents in her last will and testament signed in 1746. Land grant records show that Josefa Baca acquired the Pajarito land grant. She left it to her children and other Pajarito residents in her last will and testament signed in 1746. In her will, written on October 5, 1746, Josefa lists an inventory of 500 sheep, 100 goats, 2 horses, a musket, 2 bridles, 7 horse collars, a new cart, 4 whips, 2 axes, 3 hoes, three blouses, white skirts, stockings, shoes, a bed with mattress. She owned her own brand. Her estate was valued at 2,822 pesos. Upon her death, she requested that two Indian women who had been her servants be set free and be given ten sheep each. Additionally, an image of Our Lady of Dolores was passed down through at least three generations.

More than 100 years later, the will was presented during litigation in U.S. territorial courts as evidence for her receiving the title of land and their inheritance. The Pajarito Grant can be traced back to 1746 when Spain was the sovereign of present day New Mexico.

Fast forward 100 years to when the United States gained control of present-day New Mexico, and the grants of land made under Spanish control were promised to be upheld by the U.S. government. This is the point where many land grant histories begin their accounts of failed promises and land loss. However, the story of Pajarito is different. The Pajarito Land Grant was ultimately confirmed by the U.S. government, but the land grant’s history is far from being an example of the United States maintaining its promise. 

Josefa's son, Antonio, sold the Pajarito tract to Clemente Gutierrez. His heirs sought confirmation of their claim to the land from the surveyor general in 1877. The Court of Private Land Claims, on the presumption that a grant had been made to Josefa Baca, confirmed the Pajarito Land Grant in 1894 and patented it in 1914.

Five generations after Josefa's death, her land and ranch remained with the same family, passing to a fifth great-granddaughter and direct descendant, Juliana Gutierrez, wife of James Hubbell. The hacienda, lands, acequias, and orchards that survive today are a testament to the family's prosperity.

Baa Baa Black Sheep

The Black Sheep of the Family

The term black sheep is most often used to describe the odd one out in one's family. The one that is significantly different from the rest of their family. In other words, they stand out in ways the family can't accept.

The so-called black sheep of the family are often the most sensitive, creative honest and aware members of the family. They do not conform to the norms or traditions of the family system to keep peace. They often seek to revolutionize beliefs, going against the old beaten paths of family traditions. Because their thoughts go against the grain, they are often criticized, judged and even rejected. These free spirited souls are usually the healers of generational trauma. They are called on to free the family tree of cycles that have been repeated for generations.

The black sheep think outside of the box while the rest of the family is most comfortable not rocking the boat. They may have spent their early life crying rebelliously, while being hushed by their family for wanting to have a voice. Sometimes they have to separate from the family to break the family dynamic and return on new terms to repair branches of the family tree.

To you, the black sheep, let no one cause you to doubt. Be grateful for your rare soul is the most precious flower of your family tree. Be proud that you have been chosen to be the creator of the new story which will be passed down to future generations. You are the dream of all your ancestors.

Tree of Life
by Gustav Klimt

Please watch this video called

"It Didn't Start With You"

by Mark Wolynn

Hippie Chick Memories

January has always been my least favorite month. The holidays are over, days are shorter and it's cold. Putting away Christmas decorations is depressing after traditionally falling asleep on the couch during the month of December, basking in the glow of Christmas tree lights. It's no wonder that there is actually a disorder called SAD (Seasonal affective disorder)

I'm always left in a vulnerable state after the New Year celebrations have ended. This year was no different ... only worse. I flew home from a month long visit in St Louis on January 9. The next evening I received sad news from New Mexico that my friend, Linda Quintana had passed away. She had been ill, still, nobody is ever ready to hear that someone you care about is gone. She was one of those people that I had so much in common with that we could go a while without talking and pick up right where we left off. We were both passionate about our jobs working for newspapers, we loved music, art, our kids and grandkids. Not specifically in that order.

Artwork by Christina Fajardo

Linda was married to my cousin Tommy Quintana. She and I became close when I lived with my Grandma Rosita during my junior year in high school,1971-72. Tommy and Linda lived in a cute little house in Santa Rosa, NM. To me it seemed like the storybook perfect place described in the Crosby Stills & Nash song "Our House." With a garden next to the acacia on a back street of a small town. I loved staying at their house on occasion. Linda and I were both earthy Taurus girls, her birthday was May 5, 1950 and mine is May 12, 1955. If fate would have had it, my birthday would have been 5 days earlier on 5/5/55.

Apparently, according to the town crier, I was having too much fun in Santa Rosa because my parents made me go back to school in Amarillo for my senior year. It was just as well. I was able to go to school half day and work half day. I saved my money and was able to go back to Santa Rosa the summer of '73 after I graduated and rented a little adobe house on the hill.

This is the only photo I have of that house. I painted a Texas style primitive mural on the living room wall. My cousin Barbara lived down the street. On this particular day, her 2 boys, Timothy and Kris came over to visit. That summer Linda and I discussed going to Highlands University in Las Vegas, NM. I had high hopes of what I could do with the 3 chords I could play on the guitar and my limited writing skills. My parents had very different plans for me. They came to Santa Rosa, swooped me up and moved me to Austin where I was to babysitter for my sister's 3 year old son, Derek. Oddly, it didn't dawn on me that as an 18 years old I had the choice to live MY dream. Looking back, I realize my plans were rarely taken into consideration. It took me years to realize I was what Prince Harry is referred to as "the spare to the heirs." In other words, what I wanted didn't matter because I was the youngest female in our traditional Hispanic family. I was basically there to be a support system for the family. Not to live my dream. But that is a whole other blog.

Music had always been something I gravitated to. Music lessons were never an option because from the time I was in the 2nd - 6th grade I had a little brother who was ill. In high school, I took it upon myself to learn what I could on my own. I used to sit in my bedroom at my parent's house teaching myself how to play my dad's guitar.

I had a turn table and a short stack of albums. In the summer of '71, my friend Chris Montano had hopped on a Greyhound bus from Santa Rosa to Amarillo bearing gifts. He gave me 3 of the albums listed below that became the soundtrack of my teenage years along with my sister's Beatle albums.

• Crosby, Stills and Nash
• Carol King - Tapestry
• Crosby, Stills and Nash - Deja Vu
• James Taylor - Sweet Baby James
• Joni Mitchell - Blue

Jackson Browne was to come in the next year. Needless to say, the news of Linda's passing 2 weeks ago had all of these songs circling around in my head along with all my other memories of being a hippie chick from the Texas Panhandle living in rural New Mexico. You can only imagine the crushing surprise when the news came the week after Linda passed away that David Crosby had also passed away. 

Naturally, over this past week, I've been listening to all the old CSN music and reminiscing. The song that resonates the most is "Teach Your Children." The version on the "Deja Vu" album to be specific, because it has Jerry Garcia on steel guitar. Only now, 50 years later, "Teach Your Children" has a totally different meaning to me as a 67 year old grandmother. 

Listen to it and read the lyrics. You'll see what I mean.

Click here to see video of "Teach Your Children"

I loved CSN as a teenager because they were cute musicians from California, my dream land. Now I know they were wise beyond their years. In the 80's when I moved to Los Angeles, I used to drive through Laurel Canyon just to get a feel for what it may have been like 10 or 15 yrs earlier, when these songs were being written. There certainly was the same vibe that used to be present in South Austin back in the day.

I'm so sorry that I lost track of what David Crosby had been doing for the past few years. He continued to be a positive force AFTER his battle with drugs. I was pleasantly surprised to discover "Ask Croz" on Youtube the other day. Up until about a year ago if you had a question for David Crosby you could email askcroz@rollingstone.com or tweet your question with a hashtag #askcroz. If you felt you had a question to weird embarrassing to ask, you could send it to him.

Click here to watch "Ask Croz"

In closing these past two week have been rough on many levels. It has served as a reminder that the baby boomers produced a massive amount of dreamers, artists and musicians otherwise known as hippies and flower children who were determined to change the world. We have reached that age when the hours and minutes of our days and nights are not taken for granted. I am grateful for rediscovering Croz, even after his death. His interviews with Howard Stern are uplifting, positive and funny. I wish I had found them in the beginning of the pandemic when I was living in so much fear. He's sort of the west coast Willie Nelson. His love of music was beautiful and he truly loved sharing it was with all of us. Even at the age of 81 with many health issues, he seemed to have a positive, sweet, mellow presence with a lack of ego. I'm pretty sure there should be a bumper sticker that says "What Would Croz Do?"

Happy trails Linda Quintana and David Crosby ... I hope you find each other on the other side. Ya'll will be great friends.