Dixon celebrated Fiesta de Santa Rosa this past weekend. I bring this up because, after hearing everybody speak on Saturday, and speaking myself (it was mortifying, by the way) the celebration took me on a journey of introspection that couldn’t have happened in the short amount of time we were together.
My daughter marched in the parade with the rest of her Girl Scout troupe and, as we arrived, the general chaos and excitement of the preparations set in. After helping organize the girls I was able to sit back and watch the hubbub from the outside and I began to see some of the little things that most of us take for granted, yet count on in our daily lives. There was Benito; Dixon’s eldest and dearest, dressed in full service regalia and ready to head up the parade with the American Flag at the forefront. Benito (I always thought of him as Bonito) can be found every morning hitchhiking to Española for breakfast at the Senior Center. He always gets a ride, and whoever chances to pick him up gets enough stories to fill the gap between Dixon and town. After breakfast he can be found in front of the local Co op trading stories and tidbits with the other elders such as Clovis and Ivan, and greeting locals and tourists alike. My teenage son has a particular affinity for Benito and loves to hear him talk about his younger days in the service. I believe these stories are what brings the beauty of the past into the present, and give our children the integrity that is needed to carry us into the future. At times like this I miss my own grandparents more than I could ever express.
As the day wore on, I found a quiet spot in the shade with my dear friends, whom I have known since childhood, to eat, watch the children, and chat. My observations fell on the young teenagers that make up my son’s crowd, and I grew a little melancholy as I watched them. All of them have been together since babyhood and, because of this natural knowledge of each other, are...