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<channel><title><![CDATA[Recuerdos Vivos New Mexico - Your Recuerdos]]></title><link><![CDATA[http://www.recuerdosvivosnewmexico.com/your-recuerdos]]></link><description><![CDATA[Your Recuerdos]]></description><pubDate>Sun, 16 Mar 2025 01:26:02 -0700</pubDate><generator>Weebly</generator><item><title><![CDATA[Nasario Garcia remembers]]></title><link><![CDATA[http://www.recuerdosvivosnewmexico.com/your-recuerdos/nasario-garcia-remembers]]></link><comments><![CDATA[http://www.recuerdosvivosnewmexico.com/your-recuerdos/nasario-garcia-remembers#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Mon, 09 Dec 2013 17:18:14 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.recuerdosvivosnewmexico.com/your-recuerdos/nasario-garcia-remembers</guid><description><![CDATA[ Q: Can you tell us who is the man on the horse?&nbsp;Nasario: Galo Garc&iacute;aQ: Do you know where and when the photo was taken?Nasario: Ojo&nbsp; del Padre (Guadalupe), NM. Circa 1946-47.Does the horse have a name?Nasario: El Alaz&aacute;n (The Sorrel One)Q: This man - was he as spirited and wild as he appears in the photo?&nbsp;Nasario: Indeed. He was colorful, joyful, and daring.  [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<span class='imgPusher' style='float:left;height:0px'></span><span style='z-index:10;position:relative;float:left;;clear:left;margin-top:0px;*margin-top:0px'><a><img src="http://www.recuerdosvivosnewmexico.com/uploads/1/2/3/8/12384139/8662239.jpg?569" style="margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; border-width:1px;padding:3px;" alt="Picture" class="galleryImageBorder" /></a><span style="display: block; font-size: 90%; margin-top: -10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;" class="wsite-caption"></span></span> <div class="paragraph" style="text-align:left;display:block;"><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;"><br /><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;"><font color="#2a2a2a">Q: Can you tell us who is the man on the horse?</font></span><font color="#2a2a2a"><br />&nbsp;Nasario: Galo Garc&iacute;a</font><br /><font color="#2a2a2a"><br />Q: Do you know where and when the photo was taken?<br /><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;">Nasario: Ojo&nbsp; del Padre (Guadalupe), NM. Circa 1946-47.</span><br /><br />Does the horse have a name?<br /><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;">Nasario: El Alaz&aacute;n (The Sorrel One)</span><br /><br />Q: This man - was he as spirited and wild as he appears in the photo?&nbsp;<br />Nasario: Indeed. He was colorful, joyful, and daring.</font><br /></div> <hr style="width:100%;clear:both;visibility:hidden;"></hr>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Barbara Ruther remembers….]]></title><link><![CDATA[http://www.recuerdosvivosnewmexico.com/your-recuerdos/barbara-ruther-remembers]]></link><comments><![CDATA[http://www.recuerdosvivosnewmexico.com/your-recuerdos/barbara-ruther-remembers#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Mon, 09 Dec 2013 04:02:01 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.recuerdosvivosnewmexico.com/your-recuerdos/barbara-ruther-remembers</guid><description><![CDATA[MEMORIES OF MAMAHer foreign-born husbandcalled her Mama.As did ten mischievous children,the biscuits-and-gravy-fed boarders,Indians from the nearby Pueblo,&nbsp;and mixed-blood people in the dreary town.Then - all the grandchildren called her Mama,even me, the granddaughter she raised &mdash;&nbsp;&ldquo;My eleventh child,&rdquo; she said.Not everyone called her husband Papa.A mountainous man with leathery hands,his presence allowed no laughing.A tough bargainer, he traded cattle&nbsp;with the I [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="paragraph" style="text-align:left;">MEMORIES OF MAMA<br /><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5;">Her foreign-born husband</span><br />called her Mama.<br />As did ten mischievous children,<br />the biscuits-and-gravy-fed boarders,<br />Indians from the nearby Pueblo,&nbsp;<br />and mixed-blood people in the dreary town.<br />Then - all the grandchildren called her Mama,<br />even me, the granddaughter she raised &mdash;&nbsp;<br />&ldquo;My eleventh child,&rdquo; she said.<br /><br />Not everyone called her husband Papa.<br />A mountainous man with leathery hands,<br />his presence allowed no laughing.<br />A tough bargainer, he traded cattle&nbsp;<br />with the Indians and haggled in their language.<br />He sold fresh-butchered calves&nbsp;<br />to the locals and spoke Spanish.<br />At home he imposed his strict discipline<br />on the children and shouted in Arabic.<br />At night, he whispered to Mama in English --<br />a gentle way no one else knew in him.<br /><br />Mama&rsquo;s index memory spun back &mdash; scabbed fingers&nbsp;<br />from picking cotton in a desolate Texas town,<br />meeting a dark stranger at scrappy fourteen,<br />becoming his buckboard bride and<br />settling down in dusty Domingo, New Mexico.<br />Mama sat in her calico-cushioned rocker,<br />I snuggled by her used-up breasts<br />to hear stories I already knew.<br />We scoured an exhausted satchel --<br />&nbsp;yellowed family pictures,<br />baptismal certificates and birth records.<br />With those treasures, we relived her life.<br /><br />Mama left the satchel and it&rsquo;s bounty for me.<br />They bring back the memories and make me cry.<br />Without my old companion,<br />the pictures have no words.<br /><br /></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[One Recuerdo deserves another]]></title><link><![CDATA[http://www.recuerdosvivosnewmexico.com/your-recuerdos/one-recuerdo-deserves-another]]></link><comments><![CDATA[http://www.recuerdosvivosnewmexico.com/your-recuerdos/one-recuerdo-deserves-another#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Mon, 25 Nov 2013 03:29:03 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.recuerdosvivosnewmexico.com/your-recuerdos/one-recuerdo-deserves-another</guid><description><![CDATA[We had a wonderful preview at Teatro Paraguas on Fri. Nov 22. Pictures and stories to come. One of the biggest takeaways was the lovely stories we heard at the Share Your Recuerdo open mic. &nbsp;How evocative, poetic and precise people were with the memories they offered. How it created this ambiente of the the past being present. Really it was a Recuerdos Vivos evening. So on this new blog, what we'd like to share are: YOUR RECUERDOS We'll begin with some we heard at the open mic. Stay tuned.. [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="paragraph" style="text-align:left;">We had a wonderful preview at Teatro Paraguas on Fri. Nov 22. Pictures and stories to come. One of the biggest takeaways was the lovely stories we heard at the Share Your Recuerdo open mic. &nbsp;How evocative, poetic and precise people were with the memories they offered. How it created this ambiente of the the past being present. Really it was a Recuerdos Vivos evening. So on this new blog, what we'd like to share are: YOUR RECUERDOS We'll begin with some we heard at the open mic. Stay tuned...</div>]]></content:encoded></item></channel></rss>