Fajardo Family Tree

A few months ago, my son, Christian asked me to create a piece of artwork of our family tree dating back to the 1500's for his restaurant, Taco Circus. I tried to condense our tree into something that would fit in a frame to be hung on the wall. Months passed but I couldn't complete the research without reading about countries being invaded for hundreds of years. There were so many wars, border crossings and even more importantly, religious and racial injustice. I have read and written about all of this numerous times and while researching, I always end up discovering a different slant that I hadn't seen before.

Christian received a piece of artwork as a gift from his tattoo artist friend, Ethan. I was shocked when I saw it because Ethan had no idea that in his 8 X 10 pencil drawing, he summed up my son's ancestral history. At the top it reads "Taco Circus" and has an image of Aztec Emperor Moctezuma carrying a woman that I assume is his daughter, Isabel. Behind him is a street sign that reads "Morganford" which is the street Taco Circus #1 is on in St Louis, MO. Then there's a cactus, a rose and some graffiti as a reference to Texas and at the bottom is the St Louis Arch.

Artwork by Evan Nichols
Saint Louis, MO

When I set out on a journey to discover my past through ancestry research. I didn't have a clue of what a long, complex, emotional trip it would become. My goal was to subscribe to Ancestry.com for three months, do a little research and create an artistic book of my family for my siblings as Christmas presents. I was thinking our ancestors consisted of a few Fajardos and Labadies on my dad's side and a few more Padillas and another hand full of Valdez ancestors on my mom's side.

It never dawned on me that a family tree branches out like a 700 year old oak tree with each limb having hundreds of leaves, representing each ancestor so that by the time one goes back ten generations, each of us has 4,096 tenth great grandparents. In my case that took me back to the 1500's. That doesn't even count the all of the ninth, eight, seventh, sixth great grandparents and so on, plus all of the uncles, aunts, first, second and third cousins, plus nieces, nephews and all of their families. Needless to say, at the end of my three month Ancestry.com subscription I had barely scratched the surface.

This is a very small portion of my chart that represents
five generations of my immediate family
including my children, siblings, parents, grandparents,
great-grandparents and great grandparents.

My goals changed as time passed and my research became more personal. I was going through a rough time in my personal life so I had taken solace in going back in time and reading stories about my ancestors. I wondered how they may have survived their hardships and hoped to draw on their wisdom. We've all been taught about the wars and who was conquered in history books, but what about the women? How had they handled hardships similar to mine? I had, on more than one occasion, fallen victim to very unfair real estate transactions. It felt very much like these were lessons I had brought with me into this lifetime. Most of the traumas stem from a bad experience in our early childhood. This was not the case for me. I had a stable childhood, I lived in the same house until I was 18 in a nice neighborhood with parents who were married for 56 years. I concluded that memories buried deeply in my DNA on a cellular level caused the ongoing family trauma. Something that my ancestors had experienced. Years ago I had read a passage in the Bible that stuck with me as I was processing what I was going through.

I couldn't help but think that my ancestors were playing a hand in my life. Then I found scientific proof of what the Bible said. Psychologist and neuroscientist have studied Holocaust survivors, their children and grandchildren. It has been scientifically proven that intergenerational transmission of PTSD can occur. Our DNA carries the expression of our ancestors trauma and our biochemistry and neurology have been affected by what they endured. Epigenetic researchers have found that the experiences of starvation, grief and shock are passed forward to descendants. The children of PTSD-stricken parents have been diagnosed with PTSD three times as often and suffered three times as much depression and anxiety and engaged in more substance abuse. There are of course other physical ailments that are inherited as well. Both of my brothers and I have congenital heart issues. After an extreme bout with fatigue and chest pain, my cardiologist prescribed a beta blocker which changed my life. Too much adrenaline was being secreted into my bloodstream causing the fight-or-flight response. The symptoms most often occurred when I woke up in the morning after having a dream. My heart would be racing and my blood pressure was through the roof while I was otherwise living a very calm life with normal blood pressure. Beta blockers work by blocking the effects the stress hormone involved in the fight-or-flight response.

Some psychologists, most famously, Carl Jung, have theorized that we are born with the memories and experiences of our ancestors imprinted on our DNA and our most basic survival instincts might stem from some long ago trauma experienced by an ancestor. I often process most of my trauma in my sleep, yet the neurotransmitters (chemical messengers in my brain) determined what emotions I was feeling and forced a physical response. Beta blockers have taken care of the symptoms yet the side effects are that I don't feel as passionately as I used to about anything and I have gained weight.

With all of this in mind, my new goal was to find my way back to Spain in 1478, during the Spanish Inquisition, to become familiar with the lives of my Sephardic Jewish ancestors who had been expelled from Spain by the Catholic Monarchs. Finding all of the surnames in my family on a list of Sephardic Jewish surnames was an emotional process. It was heart wrenching to learn that my Sephardic Jewish ancestors were given only four months to uproot their lives and leave their homeland of Spain. I had an instinctive visceral bodily response when I discovered that they were forced to sell their homes and businesses at very low prices and take only what they could carry on their journey to a foreign land. Vineyards were sold for the price of a handkerchief, a house for a donkey, a workshop for a piece of linen or a loaf of bread.

At this point, I had to take a break from my research. It was painful to process, however it gave me courage to process my own life experiences.

When I began my ancestry research again, I was seeing my world in a whole new light and feeling grateful that I had landed exactly where I needed to be. I was taking notice of interviews with people who had written books about the holocaust. But the Inquisition... that was 500 years ago!

Late one night, while drinking tea, on the couch, my research took me down a rabbit hole of discovery until I traced one blood line back to the Catholic Monarchs Ferdinand II of Aragon and Isabella I of Castile. I sat in a mixed bag of emotions when I discovered they may have been my 12th great grandparents. I didn't even have anyone to share this with at 4 am. It seemed surreal but somehow I wasn't surprised.

Catholic Monarchs Ferdinand II of Aragon
and Isabella I of Castile

Ferdinand and Isabella were second cousins who married each other for the soul purpose of joining forces for the Spanish Crown to order Jews and Muslims to convert to Catholicism or leave Spain. The realization of being a direct descendant and taking note of what the Bible said about visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children and the children’s children.... I suddenly felt an urgency to clean up generations of iniquities. This wasn't the beginning and by far the end of the ethnocentric evaluations that took place in my bloodline. I talked to my son about it and he was totally on board. I wasn't sure how this iniquity clean up was going to occur since it was caused by disagreements of fundamental religious and political beliefs. I have immediate family that I have those issues with. It's very clear to me that at some point we need to evolve enough to agree to disagree and let others practice their own beliefs.

These are the two charts showing my lineage to the Catholic Monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella. This explains why I have such a visceral reaction to the religious intolerance and repression that has resurfaced in our country.

Then just when I thought my family tree couldn't get any crazier, I discovered that Hernando Cortés, the Spanish Conquistador who led the expedition that caused the fall of the Aztec Empire, was my first cousin 10 generations back. Great! More iniquity to clean up!

Hernando Cortés and Aztec Emperor Moctezuma

So as the story goes, Hernán Cortés arrived in Mexico in November of 1519 accompanied by 11 ships, 600 men 200 servants and 13 horses. They were welcomed with open arms by the Aztec Emperor Moctezuma and lived in Moctezuma's palace in Tenochititlan (present day Mexico City) for several months. They were feasted, given lavish gifts including women. Cortés distributed all that was given to him among his men, keeping a beautiful maiden named Malinche. She was educated and could speak several languages. She was later baptized and given the Spanish name Doña Marina and became Cortés’s mistress, a valuable partner and interpreter. By 1521 Cortes had conquered the Aztec Empire with the help of Malinche.  They had a son, Martin Cortés in 1522, making Martin the first Mestizo or mixed breed Spaniard/ Mexican to ever be born. Yet another mind boggling discovery in my personal history. The first Mestizo EVER born was my 2nd cousin 10 generations back. 

Hernán Cortés

Malinche - Doña Marina

Martin Cortés

Emperor Moctezuma's daughter, Isabel Tecuichpo de Moctezuma also had a daughter by Cortes in 1528 named Leonor de Tolosa Cortes Moctezuma. This would make the granddaughter of  Emperor Moctezuma and the daughter of Hernando Cortés my 2nd cousin 10 generations back. Again, every time I made one of these mind blowing discoveries, I would see something on TV or read something on the internet that I would otherwise not notice that related to my research. This time it was at the grocery store. I was picking up a case of Topo Chico and noticed a cool piece of artwork on the side of the box. It was Isabel Tecuichpo de Moctezuma.

The legend says that when Moctezuma's daughter Isabel Tecuichpo de Moctezuma fell terribly ill, Tenochtitlan's priests recommended the girl visit a bubbling, warm spring to the north. After drinking the mountain waters of Topo Chico, the girl was cured.

By this time I had changed from drinking herbal tea to Topo Chico while reading about my family in Wikipedia, of all places. I would go to bed with my mind reeling in dismay of how I had lived more than a half a century clueless of richness in my family history. I had set out to discover the women in my history never dreaming that Isabella I of Castile was my 12th great-grandmother or the woman who had helped Cortes conquer Mexico gave birth to Martin Cortes, my 2nd cousin 10 generations ago. Why wasn't this history at least a part of the history I was taught in Texas.

I couldn't help but have mixed emotions about my ancestor's place in history but  my heart was broken by the disservice to all of us Hispanic and Native people in my country. Especially for my parents who had moved away from their home state of New Mexico to raise their children in the more "acceptable" white protestant city of Amarillo, Texas while quietly maintaining  their Hispanic Catholic heritage. They were still maintaining the age old customs but like Converso Jews, hiding who they were to fit in. As a child, I remember my mother hiding the tortillas she was making in the kitchen when someone knocked on the front door. I really never gave them enough credit for trying to give us a better life. But I am giving credit now to my son who moved to St Louis and is doing his best to carry on the traditions, cooking his grandmother's recipes in his Mexican food restaurant, telling his family story, fully aware of the healing that is needed in our family bloodline.

Sign on the wall at
Taco Circus, St Louis, MO

Still I am sad that the history that I was taught in school, the history that is celebrated in the United States has nothing to do with me. My ancestors weren't Pilgrims who crossed the ocean on the Mayflower landing on Plymouth Rock in 1620. My ancestors came on several expeditions from Spain and made their way through Mexico into New Mexico. The first Spanish settlement was in Santa Fe, New Mexico in 1598. The map below shows that we weren't even a part of the United States when the Pilgrims landed. I became dedicated to connecting the dots in a direct line from the surnames in my family tree to Spain to make sure that my family and descendants know OUR family history.

North America in 1794
The United State was only east of the Mississippi

Outlining my ancestry back to Spain was way more involved than I dreamed it would be. Since the people in my culture have always been considered the minority, most of my life I mindlessly believed that my ancestors had encroached upon the white man's territory. It was almost as if we had FOX News all along, spoon feeding us a white washed story. I thought we had only been here two, maybe three generations. I was so very wrong.

I will start by saying, I have roughly 70% Iberian Peninsula DNA(Spain) and 30% Native American DNA (New Mexico).  The journey from Spain to New Mexico took my ancestors generations. It was a difficult, brave journey for the Spanish colonists and there are no words to describe how I feel about my Native American ancestors who were invaded and had their homeland and religion taken from them. Again, I have no doubt that I have been deeply scared by the trauma my ancestors endured. It's estimated that during the colonial period (1492–1832), a total of 1.86 million Spaniards settled in the Americas and along the way, my Spanish colonist ancestors had children with Native American women, some of them were spouses and some were un-named servants. That does not make me a minority of this land and even more importantly, I am less of an immigrant than most.

Indigenous People Day

Indigenous People Day...

Ugh... hard to write about. 

How about calling it 

"Screw Anyone Who Thinks
They Are The Boss Of Me Day!"

It seems that we are living in extraordinary hard times but in reality, we have always had hard times. Just this week in the news, Brett Kavanaugh, Trump's Supreme Court nominee, was facing multiple allegations of sexual misconduct. Unfortunately, he was confirmed as a Supreme Court Justice. Everyone is asking "How could this possibly happen?" The same way the majority of us still celebrate Columbus Day on this day, 526 years after he raped, enslaved, murdered and took land from natives when he arrived in the Americas.

The only difference now is that we have social media to spread the information like a wild fire. "The Me Too Movement," seems to have re-opened the wounds of thousands of women who felt they had been violated. MeToo was founded to let survivors of sexual violence know they are not alone on their journey and to find pathways to healing. Yet to me, the issue is much larger than sexual assault. The real issues are more about any sort of transgression or invasion to gain control and/or power, stemming from the perpetrator’s need for dominance. The vast majority of MeToo stories describe occurrences within the family, or a classmate, a boss or someone at a party. Many times with someone the victim knew well. These transgression, most often weren't talked about because telling someone, most likely would create unfavorable consequences due to unhealthy family dynamics that had been set in place. The victim was used to feeling unheard so it was buried deep down inside.

Everyone knows someone who has used their position to seduce, coerce, manipulate or attack to gain or maintain control. They either had what their victim wanted or their victim had what they wanted. And it can go both ways, it isn't always a powerful man victimizing a woman. In some cases it could be someone feeling totally out of control who is trying to feel like they have power.

We have all had this experience to some degree, however, if frequent and/or prolonged adversity occurs, toxic stress is the outcome. I had one extremely damaging experience in my early thirties that profoundly changed the trajectory of my life. It had nothing to do with a sexual assault and everything to do with being a powerless woman in a bad situation with not one person that I could call on to be supportive. There was an enormous amount of shock, shame and disbelief involved, therefore it took me years to even admit to myself what had happened enough to even process it and react. I then became angry for a few years and then after the anger pasted the healing began. I later realized that the anger was really grief.

There were layers of hurt to heal and it took years. Even now it resurfaces from time to time in a very small way, yet I have found the tools to deal with it. In the beginning I felt shameful. Then I went through a period of anger. In the anger I found bravery and courage with the realization that I hadn't done anything to "deserve" what had happened to me. I am now a strong believer that we come into this life with memories in our DNA and it is our job to heal the generational scars, as to not pass it on to the next generation. It's an unusual belief, I know, but it works for me. I took back my power.  I now study my family history and there's plenty to be healed. Hundreds of years of transgressions.

I have VERY mixed emotions about Columbus/Indigenous People Day. I am almost 70% Spanish and 30% Native American, Ferdinand and Isabella, the Catholic Monarchs are my 12th great-grandparents. In 1478, they established the Spanish Inquisition, joining forces with "The Fajardo Army" of southern Spain to expel Sephardic Jews from Spain. Then in 1492, they financed the voyage of Christopher Columbus that led to the opening of the New World and established Spain as the first global power which dominated Europe and much of the world for more than a century.

My ancestors remained in Spain until the 1500's. The first expedition in 1527, was that of my 1st cousin 8X removed, Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca's . Cabeza de Vaca befriended the Native Americans and learned the practices of native medicine men. He personalized his cures by making the sign of the cross and reciting prayers. In 1537 Cabeza de Vaca returned to Spain to publish a journal of his experiences and advised the king that the only way to win the hearts of the Native Americans was to treat them with kindness rather than force. The information Cabeza de Vaca took back to Spain helped to launch the Coronado expedition, then there were many more to follow.

In my 5 years of research, I have gained the most respect for my ancestors like Cabeza de Vaca and my 4th great grandfather, Esteban Padilla. Esteban was born in 1710 in Isleta, New Mexico, the child of Diego Padilla and a nameless Native American servant. Diego Padilla was the patriarch of the most prominent family in the community of Los Padillas. Esteban was a Mestizo or Coyote, meaning he was half Spanish and half Native American. He didn't marry into another wealthy Spanish family, but instead married a woman of his own social class, Jacinta Martina Delgado. Together they climbed the social latter by purchasing parcels of land from Esteban's half brothers and sisters. Esteban and Jacinta became padrinos or witnesses over thirty times in the baptisms and marriages of their family members or fellow parishioners, Spanish, Mestizo and Indian alike. He seemed to be the Barack Obama of his day, fitting into both cultures and uniting them. So my pride doesn't come from being the 12th great-granddaughter to the throne on Spain, I am so very proud that my 4th great-grand-parents overcame adversity and thrived. They are my heroes.

My message? Nothing has changed. There will always be those who want to reign over everyone, on whatever level they feel they can. Then there are those that are leaders, who teach us how to carry our own. Be a leader. Remember that we are one and we are only as strong as our weakest link in a chain of many generation. Memories are carried in that chain called DNA, much like our physical features. We are unconsciously affected by the unfinished business of our ancestors UNTIL we acknowledge the past. In other words, we revisit the events and traumas experienced by our ancestors in our lifetime, until the trauma is faced head-on and healed. It's of upmost importance to hold each other up on this journey, never trying to be in control of one another for any reason. Respect each other.

My Valdez Family of New Mexico from Oviedo, Asturias, Spain

Five years ago, in the early days of my ancestry research, I discovered that the Fajardo family originated in Andalucía, Spain. Simultaneously, I saw my favorite chef and world traveler, Anthony Bourdain, on an episode of "Parts Unknown" in Andalucía. I was moved by this episode more than any other. After watching the episode, more than once, I pondered the word "duende," used by the Spanish Flamenco musicians and dancers. It's said to be the hardest Spanish word to translate to English. Originally El Duende was a magical being akin to elves and leprechauns. Later its meaning translated loosely to spirit, passion, inspiration. You know that spontaneous feeling that arises in creativity, particularly relevant to the arts.The mojo that's born and dies perpetually during the performance of a dance, song or even cooking.

I was listening to Paco de Lucia's album, "El Duende Flamenco de Paco de Lucia" to see if I could gain insight into what the word "duende" meant to Paco, the most famous of Flamenco guitarists. It excited me because it was something I had always felt but didn't have a word for. I've known from a very young age that often words don't translate from Spanish to English, neither do customs and traditions. Most importantly, neither does the passion. There was always a passion that my mother had when she spoke that I didn't see in my friend's parents in Amarillo, Texas when I was growing up. I've been told on more than one occasion by ex-boyfriends that I was too sensitive. They didn't comprehend the fire in my soul and most often, it was scary to them.

In my research I found that Paco was from Algeciras, Andalucia, Spain. In my research, I traced my beginnings back to a castle in Andalucia originally called "Castillo de los Fajardo" now called "Castillo de Velez-Blanco built by Pedro Fajardo.

Much of the information was in Spanish but I felt like I was being guided by a spirit much larger than myself to dig deeper. I stayed up late and woke up early to read about Andalucia, the Fajardo castle, Paco de Lucia and the word "duende." I took a break to get more coffee and rest my brain. I opened the CNN website to read a little morning news and discovered that Paco de Lucia had died of a heart attack that morning. What are the chances that I would be listening to his music and researching the region of Spain where he was born on the morning of his death? I was really blown away by the synchronicity. As I read on, I realized Flamenco originated in Andalucia, as was bull fighting.

Album byPaco de Lucía
"El duende flamenco de Paco de Lucía"

For the past five years I have been overwhelmed and humbled by my family history and the information that seems to just appear out of nowhere. Because of this phenomenon, ancestry research has become somewhat of an obsession. I feel that it's my duty to record my family history. The information seems to fall in my lap from time to time and I don't think it is my chance.

So... fast forward five years... I took a trip to New Mexico this month. The airbnb we stayed in was north of Taos, a couple of miles from Valdez, NM. That was a sign to me that it's time to dig deeper into my Valdez lineage. My maternal grandmother was a Valdez and my mom was extremely proud of her Valdez family heritage. But the stories that I heard as a child only went back to the late 1800's when Billy the kid worked on my great-great uncle's ranches on the banks of the Pecos River in Puerto de Luna. My favorite story about Billy the Kid was that after the ranch work was done in the evenings, Billy taught my 7 year old Great Uncle Hilario Valdez to read and write in English. This tells me that Billy the Kid was not the cold blooded killer that you read about in the western novels, but someone with a kind heart who was a protector of the Hispanic families that had taken him in when he arrived in New Mexico as an orphan. When the cattle rustlers came to steal from his adopted family, he acted as a protector.

My research took me off into a hundred directions and it has taken me almost 5 years piece together the back story on the Valdez family. After my recent trip to New Mexico, took me within a couple of miles from Valdez, New Mexico, I discovered that my 7th great-grandfather, Jose Luis Ruiz de Valdez was the first Valdez to come to New Mexico from Spain. He was born in Oviedo, Asturias, Spain in 1664. I started writing this blog earlier this week and just like clockwork, tonight "Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown" 2nd episode of his final season was in Asturias, Spain. I was glued to my TV. His co-host is Chef Jose Andres. As it turns out the people of Asturias are sheep herders and musicians. Go figure.

Anthony mentioned that Chef Jose was sued by Trump in 2015 after he canceled plans for a restaurant in Trump’s hotel in Washington DC after Trump’s disparaging remarks about Mexican immigrants. In this episode, Chef Jose Andres was wearing a T-Shirt that says "We Are All Dreamers." 

Thanks Anthony and Jose. ❤️

I don't know why it surprises me but it's somewhat overwhelming to think I am a direct descendant of just about every Spanish settler of New Mexico.

I found a "Taos News" newspaper clipping written by Jerry A Padilla about the original Valdez family on Ancestry.com. It was attached to Jose Luis Ruiz de Valdez. I downloaded it, read it and was blown away. 

It states that "Among the oldest and most respected families in Springer, NM is the Valdez family. Springer is about 80 east of Taos. It's kind of sad that I never met the Valdez family of Springer or Taos and barely knew the Valdez family of Puerto de Luna. I really wish I had lived in New Mexico way more of my lifetime. There are so many unanswered questions. 

According to the Taos newspaper article, Jose Luis Ruiz de Valdez was the son of Francisco Ruiz de Valdez and Maria de Caso Valdez both born in Asturias, Spain. Jose Luis Ruiz de Valdez was the first Valdez to arrive in New Mexico. He of course had to make the trek across the ocean and through Mexico. He met the woman he would marry in Mexico City, Maria Medina de Cabrera. She was of Spanish decent but had been born in Mexico City. They moved to New Mexico in the colony of 1693, the reconquest after the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 with their two children. Jose was 4 and Ana 1 1/2. After arriving in New Mexico, they had 4 more children, Ignacio Luis, Catalina and Juan Lorenzo and Domingo, my 6th great-grandfather.

Unfortunately, Jose Luis Ruiz de Valdez was killed by the Zuni Indians in the Mission church of Zuni while he and two other Spanish soldiers were singing an alabado after Mass, on Sunday, March 4, 1703. Jose was only 39 and his wife, Maria only 30. A sad end for a promising soldier and family.

Of the Valdez girls, Ana married Lazaro Antonio Cordoba in 1710.

Catalina, nicknamed " La Prieta " was murdered by her husband, Miguel Lujan in 1713. Her mother was still living in this year and gave her age as forty. Maria Hernandez de Medina Cabrerra died in Santa Cruz de la Canada in 1731.

I decided to look up the writer, Jerry Padilla, who I figure is more than likely a distant cousin since I have Padilla's on both sides of my family. What I found, unfortunately was Jerry's obituary from 2012. He was born in 1952 and  a long time resident of Taos. Jerry was an avid historian, and was very involved in preserving and teaching the history and culture of Taos and Northern New Mexico, which earned him recognition from the Taos Country Historical Society. He was an artist who painted in acrylics. I think he and I would have become friends had we known each other.

I really appreciate other's research on ancestry because it makes mine easier. I was able to fill in the 7 generations between me and my 7th great-grandfather, Jose Luis Ruiz de Valdez.

I found this life story of my 7th great-grandfather, Jose Luis Ruiz de Valdez on Ancestry.com. Excerpt from Fray Angelico Chaves' book, "Origins of New Mexico Families, A Genealogy of the Spanish Colonial Period." Revised Edition, 1962 . Page 301.

Jose Luis Ruiz de Valdez a native of Oviedo, Spain, was thirty years old in 1694. Two years later he was a sergeant in Santa Cruz. His wife was Maria Medina de Cabrera, a native of Mexico City, who came with him in the colony of 1693 (The Reconquest) with their two children, Jose who was 4 and Ana, who was 1 1/2. After arriving in New Mexico, they had 4 more children, Ignacio Luis, Catalina, Juan Lorenzo and Domingo. Jose Luis Ruiz de Valdez was killed by the Zuni Indians in the Mission church of Zuni while he and two other Spanish soldiers were singing an alabado after Mass, on Sunday, March 4, 1703. Jose was only 39 and his wife, Maria just 30. A sad end for a promising soldier and family.

Of the Valdez girls, Ana married Lazaro Antonio Cordoba in 1710.

Catalina, nicknamed " La Prieta " was murdered by her husband, Miguel Lujan in 1713. Her mother was still living in this year and gave her age as forty.

Update on this blog July 2023

Genealogy is a fun game of connecting the dots. Jose Luis Ruiz de Valdez was the first Valdez to arrive in New Mexico. He of course had to make the trek across the ocean and through Mexico. He met the woman he would marry in Mexico City, Maria Medina de Cabrera. She was of Spanish decent but had been born in Mexico City. They moved to New Mexico in the colony of 1693, the reconquest after the Pueblo Revolt of 1680. Sometime before 1847 Buenaventura de Jesus Valdez and Maria Juana Catarina Lovato settled in the Taos area. I am assuming that "Valdez" the unincorporated community located in Taos County, is named for Buenaventura de Jesus Valdez. "Valdez" is located on New Mexico State Road 230, 8.8 miles north of Taos. 

I mentioned in another blog post that on January 19, 1847, the Taos Revolt began. While serving as territorial governor, Charles Bent a violent mob attacked the Bent home. He was assassinated, scalped and his mangled body was dragged through the streets of Taos. The mob called for a full-scale rebellion against the American occupation and by the end of the evening, 15 others had been killed including Kit Carson's brother-in-law (Josefa Jaramillo Carson's brother) Pablo Jaramillo and Lucien Maxwell's brother-in-law (Luz Beaubien's brother) Narcisco Beaubien. Both of them blood relatives of mine. Kit Carson was on a fur trapping trip, Charles Bent's wife Ignacia Jaramillo Bent, her sister Josefa Jaramillo Carson and the children escaped through a hole in the adobe wall. Ignacia and Josefa begged the blood thirsty mob for mercy. Luz Beaubien Maxwell's grandfather, Buenaventura De Jesus Valdez entered the Bent house and intervened, sparing the women’s lives. The attackers left, leaving the family in a state of shock. The ladies went to stayed with Luz Beaubien's grandparents, Maria Juana Catarina Lovato and Buenaventura De Jesus Valdez for three days until they could escaped to Santa Fe with their children. What I didn't know when I found this information is that Buenaventura De Jesus Valdez was my 2nd cousin 6 generations ago. Buenaventura and Maria Juana's son, Antonio Jose and his wife Maria Antonia Quintana lived in Taos until they purchased 100,000 acres from his brother-in-law, Carlos Beaubien. They then moved to Rayado where Antonio Jose Valdez became a prosperous rancher. Some time before 1850 Antonio Jose and his wife Maria Antonia adopted a young Native American boy in Taos and named him Francisco.

Trip to New Mexico

Sunflower at "Palacio de Milagros"

I just returned from a short trip to New Mexico a couple of weeks ago, I always return a changed person. The connection I feel to the land of enchantment and it's culture is indescribable. I went with my long time friend, Brenda. We flew into Albuquerque and rented a car and drove to Taos for Michael Hearne's Big Barn Dance. The Annual Big Barn Dance is held at the Kit Carson Park in Taos is attended largely by friends of mine from Texas. I could have just stayed home, right? No. It's truly an experience to hang out with my friends in the land of enchantment.

Christina and Brenda at Michael Hearne's Big Barn Dance

So the first night we arrived at the Barn Dance just in time to catch Bill Kirchen close out the show. As we were walking up in the parking lot, I was telling Brenda about my friend, Gary Roller, who now lives Taos who is an artist and musician. We walked in the front gate and there he was with his art on display and he played with Michael Martin Murphy a couple of nights later.

Christina and Gary Roller

After the show, we drove to the airbnb where we were staying with a group of friends. It was a large beautiful adobe house north of Taos called "Palacio de Milagros." Waking up to the cool mountain air was just amazing.

Christina and a Sunflower at "Palacio de Milagros"

My bedroom door at "Palacio de Milagros"

"Palacio de Milagros"

Our days were spent listening to our friends play music at the Big Barn Dance and shopping in the downtown plaza of Taos. But always, in the back of my mine, I am thinking that this is where the Spanish Conquistadors that I am a direct descendant of, came to look for gold. This is where they met with the Native Americans. This is where the mix of 65% Spanish and 30% Native American occurred in my bloodline. It's sacred ground to me. 

On the last day of our trip, while looking on a map to go to the Rio Grande Gorge, I saw that Valdez, NM was just a couple of miles up the road. I would  love to wonder around there for a day since my maternal grandma is a Valdez but we had run out of time. On this trip, the big find was the breathe taking Rio Grande Gorge. 

Rio Grande Gorge From The Bridge

Rio Grande Gorge Bridge From The Parking Lot

We parked to walk across the bridge and the most beautiful little Native American woman was sitting up a table to sell her goods. I walked over to take a look. She was selling kachinas made by her husband. I felt like crying when I picked one of them up. It took me back to the time in the mid 80's I used to dream about kachinas and since I grew up in Texas, I had no idea what they were or the significance of a kachina. I had seen a life size kachina in the moonlight, on a nature trail in the middle of Austin, TX one night. It appeared and disappeared just as quickly then I was given a book of original kachina drawings by a Hopi. By this time, I was telling anyone that would listen about them and  Christian and I used to draw kachinas when he was young. Needless to say, I had a connection to them that I couldn't explain.

So Brenda and I walked across the Rio Grande Gorge bridge, in awe, we took photos and came back and bought 2 of the adorable hand made kachinas. One for me and one for Christian.

The One on the Left is the Sun Kachina -
Representing Warmth and Shelter for the Old and a Bright Future, and Playfulness for the Young
I bought the Rose Quartz Buffalo to Add to My Buffalo and Cow Collection
The One on the Right is a Hemis Kachina - Representing Happiness of a Successful Harvest

We got back into our rental car to drive to Santa Fe. Brenda programed "Waze" on her iPhone and we were on our way. Suddenly we both realized we were headed down a dirt road. I'm always a little skeptical of "Waze" taking us the best way since the last time I was in New Mexico we ran out of gas in the dessert... so here I am again. Then immediately we both realized we were headed to the bottom of the Rio Grande Gorge and it was breathe taking. We reached the bottom and there was a herd of bighorn sheep crossing the road and climbing some rocks. We pulled over and I took several photos but all the photos I took with my iPhone had this strange aura around the bighorn sheep.

Bighorn sheep at the bottom of the Rio Grand Gorge

the Bottom of the Rio Grande Gorge

I stood on a small bridge and listened to the Rio Grand water flowing and I felt the spirits of my ancestors lingering in the air. It was magical, emotional and calming and overwhelming all at the same time. I felt like I never wanted to leave. It is almost impossible to wrap my mind around the thought that I am a direct descendant of the Spanish Conquistador Francisco Vazquez de Coronado. He is my 11th great-grandfather. Coronado, was born in Salamanca, Spain in 1510. He led one of the most remarkable European explorations of North America. 

My lineage to Coronado
He was my 11th great-grandfather

The first Europeans to see the Taos valley were conquistadors with the Francisco de Coronado expedition. In 1540, he sent his Captain of Artillery, Hernando de Alvarado with twenty soldiers accompanied by Fray Juan de Padilla from the Zuni Indian Reservation, west of Albuquerque to explore to the northeast. Upon reaching the Rio Grand River, they were visited by twelve representatives of pueblos to the north with friendly greetings, so Alvarado, his soldiers and Fray Juan Padilla traveled up to Taos. The explorers returned with glowing accounts of the beauty of the area, but reported that there was no gold—the primary purpose of the expedition.

In my research I always find unexpected treasures. Father Juan de Padilla is one of them. I am assuming he is related to me because he was born in Andalusia, Spain in 1500 and I have many Padillas in my family tree on both sides of the family that go back to Andalusia.  Father Juan de Padilla was a Spanish Roman Catholic Missionary who spent much of his life exploring North American with Coronado. Padilla was one of the first Europeans to see the Grand Canyon. Coronado wasn't interested in going that direction because he was really only interested in finding gold.

Padilla was killed in Kansas in 1542 by Native Americans, and is considered to be one of the first Christian martyrs in the U.S. Juan de Padilla is associated with a miracle known as the "Rising of the coffin of Padre Padilla." The story of seeing his coffin rise above the ground was repeated for many years, and was believed by many people in Isleta, where the Padilla is believed to be buried. It has since becoming New Mexico folklore.

Saint Cecilia, Patron Saint of Music

I was going to write this blog a year ago, but my writing process was derailed by life. Emotions were running high for everyone in my circle of friends during the month of May last year due to the passing of my friend, Jimmy LaFave. I kept putting it off until I forgot. So today in honor of my mom's birthday I am writing.

Synchronicity is a big part of my life, I feel blessed when it occurs. My friend Jay Curlee snapped a photo of the fresco of Saint Cecilia, painted on the interior of "The Paramount Theater" last year. It was the evening of May 18, during "The Jimmy LaFave Songwriter Rendezvous." It was three days before Jimmy passed away. Saint Cecilia frescos are a part of the decor in many theaters because she is the patron saint of musicians.

Saint Cecilia Fresco
Paramount Theater
Austin, Texas

Saint Cecilia Fresco
Paramount Theater
Austin, Texas

Saint Cecilia Fresco
Paramount Theater
Austin, Texas

I love this fresco and all things Saint Cecilia because my full name is Cecelia Christina Fajardo. I have been told my whole life that I was named after the patron saint of musicians so I have worn that hat very proudly and it has been as much of a joke in my inner circle as it is an honor. I was, in fact, wearing that hat proudly at the Paramount the night the photo of Saint Cecilia was taken. I couldn't see the fresco from where I was seated because I was stage left, as I displayed all of the slide shows I had created for "The Jimmy LaFave Songwriter Rendezvous" from my laptop to the screen behind the band.

My laptop, Stage Left
Paramount Theater

Stage Left
Paramount Theater

Jimmy had requested that a slide show of photos of his life be shown as the audience enter the theater. You can see it on the link below.

Jimmy LaFave Songwriter Rendezvous

As each of his chosen performers played, a slide show of each of them playing with Jimmy through his life long musical career, was shown behind the band on a larger than life backdrop on the stage. I spent hours each day the for the first 3 weeks in May, combing through photos to find the perfect photos for these projects. It was nothing less than a labor of love for Jimmy and all my musician friends who were performing that night. Only someone labeled a patron saint of musicians would take on such a project. It was a blessing and means to help process his passing.

Jaimee Harris Singing "Restless Spirits"
at the Jimmy LaFave Songwriter Rendezvous
with a larger than life photo of them in the background

Jimmy's Songwriter Rendezvous was on Thursday May 18, then on Friday night I went to Lana Nelson's for the annual Taurus birthday party weekend for the May birthday girls. (Mary McWatters, Ellen Rothkrug and me) While we were having dinner, I was wearing my Taurus princess tiara. Ellen was claiming the title of Queen for the night and brought up the fact that I was named after Saint Cecilia and a German princess that lived in Amarillo when I was born. I vaguely remembered being told that I was named after a princess but I mentioned it to a teacher in elementary school and she made fun of me so I never mentioned it again. To anyone. So fast forward half a century and as fate would have it, my mother and Ellen became very close in the last three years of my mother's life, after my father passed away. She and Ellen went on trips together and fortunately, she told Ellen stories I had either forgotten or she had never mentioned to me. My mother talked about her life much more in the final years of her life. I am realizing myself that as I have gotten older, I have time to reminisce and see our lives from a different perspective. In doing so, we become more forgiving of ourselves.

So at dinner on the night of May 19, Ellen started to tell the story about the German princess that lived in Amarillo and Mary said "Oh yeah, I remember that Princess. Her daughter, Kira was my sister Joan's friend." Then our friend from Germany, Ruth Boggs said that wasn't possible. So she googled it and it was all true, but her name was Cecilie, not Cecilia. Not only was it true but there had been a movie made about Princess Cecilie's husband, Clyde Harris, called "Monuments Men" in 2014, starring George Clooney.

Princess Cecilie and Husband Clyde Harris

Princess Cecilie and
Her daughter Kira,
born 7 months before me on Oct 20, 1954

Clyde Harris was a 1939 graduate from Oklahoma State in Stillwater with a degree in Interior Design. Okay... that is interesting.... LaFave grew up in Stillwater. As a Monuments Man, Clyde helped the family of Prince Ludwig von Hesse-Darmstadt recover their family art, stolen by the Nazis during World War II. He then married the German Princess June 21, 1949 at the Castle Burg Hohenzollern in Hechingen. So long story short, I was named after the patron saint of music AND a princess who was married to a man who helped to save art masterpieces that had been stolen by the Nazis during World War II. I feel so very honored.

As I write this blog, I am watching "The Monuments Men" for the first time. It was directed by George Clooney and written and produced by Clooney and Grant Heslov. The film has an all star cast of George Clooney, Matt Damon, Bill Murray, John Goodman and Cat Blanchett. It is based on a true story but the names of the Monuments Men have been changed.

As I am watching the movie, I am not at all surprised that Hitler reminds me so much of Trump. Hitler was a failed art student. As part of his takeover, he wanted all of the western masterpieces stolen for his cultural complex in his hometown of Linz, Austria. In July 1944, Claire Simone, a curator in occupied France, was forced to assist Nazi officer Viktor Stahl in overseeing the theft of art for Hitler. President Roosevelt was persuaded to assemble an army unit nicknamed the "Monuments Men," comprising museum directors, curators, art historians, and an architect, to both guide allied units and search for stolen art to return it to its rightful owners. 

Clyde Harris died in Amarillo of a cerebral hemorrhage at the age of 39 on March 2, l958. Cecilie died in May l975 in Taunus, Germany, while visiting relatives.

So back to my name. I went by my first name, Cecelia, until junior high school and decided I liked Christina better for many reasons. One of them being that the song "Cecilia" by Simon & Garfunkel was popular in 1970. I was in the 9th grade. Having classmates singing the lyrics to the song in the hallways of Horace Mann Jr High was extremely disheartening.

Making love in the afternoon with Cecilia
Up in my bedroom
I got up to wash my face
When I come back to bed someone's taken my place

Horace Mann Jr High is now called Mann Middle School

The biggest reason I wanted the name change was that my family called me Cecil, as in Cecil B. DeMille. But friends in the Texas Panhandle pronounced it Ceeeeecil. I hated it. With a passion. So when I moved to New Mexico for my junior year of high school, I started a new life using my middle name, Christina. Even to this day, my family hasn't been able to go along with that name change so they call me CiCi. My sister completely changed her name from Josie Ann to Nita in 2nd grade and nobody ever questioned it. Go figure. Oh well, CiCi works for me. 

I posted this photo of my mom today on facebook because it is her birthday. Davy Delgado commented that he sure did miss her. So, the thought of writing about the name she gave to me surfaced again.

Davy and my mom were close. His dad was her favorite cousin, but more importantly, Davy and mom appreciated each others love of writing. She used to send Davy's articles to me from the Santa Rosa News. Today Davy said "Most of her contemporaries frequently wondered how people in the future could be able to relate with other without the art of letter writing."

That's one of those synchronistic signs that the time had come to write an entry on my blog, which for me, has taken the place of letter writing. So this is my birthday present to you Mamma. I am writing! Thank you for passing down the love of writing to me, Christian and Ava. I love you.

Saint Cecilia
Patron Saint of Musicians