One in a collection by Allen Bachoroski,
Local Historical Writer,
Tales Along the
Highway of Legends
Note: This
is one in a series of historical stories about local families
in the Trinidad region.
Click here to find out more
about how these stories were collected.
My parents adopted a boy, when he was about 10 or 11 years
old. They had baptized him his name was Felipe Sanchez.
His parents died so my parents raised him. He was drafted
into the service during the First World War. He was sent
over-seas.
My mother was very worried about him. She was a very devout
Catholic and prayed a lot for his safe return. Then my
oldest brother Steve was drafted. So my mother made a
promise to the baby Jesus, that if Felipe would come home
safe and Steve would not have to go overseas, she would
make a trip to Chimayo, New Mexico - where the Infant
Jesus had appeared and performed many miracles - and make
a donation of $100.
Well, it happened that the war ended and Felipe came home
safely, and Steve didn't have to go, so she, my dad, and
my sisters, Mary and Josie made the trip to New Mexico.
My mother went on her knees from the gate of the fence
to the church, which is quite far from the church and
she also made my sisters do the same.
I can remember when by brother, Felipe came home from
the service. He was walking up the street on Convent in
his soldier uniform. There was a small airplane flying
overhead, throwing Hershey candy bars and some pamphlets.
I don't know what the pamphlets contained - I was only
5 years old, but I remember....
From Convent, we moved to West Second Street. Celio, Sophie
and I went to Columbian School, which was located where
Eckhart School is now. My dad would bring us to town on
Sundays from the ranch, and take us back on Friday to
work over the weekend. I remember him bringing us on a
wagon once; I must have been about 6 or 7 years old. We
had a lot of fun that day coming to Trinidad.
My mother was always cooking good things for us. She would
watch us coming down the hill from Columbian School, and
you could get the smell of the cookies or fresh bread
or sopapillas that she would be making. She would give
us a snack right away. She would always make us get out
of our school clothes and into our work clothes. My
mother would make all of our clothes, even our coats.
She always made all of us girls beautiful white slips
with crochet edging on them. She didn't have a washing
machine so she and my older sisters did the washing by
hand.
My mother was a very generous person; she would share
the vegetables that they raised at the ranch or milk,
eggs, meat or butter with the neighbors. I remember one
time, (it was during Lent) she fixed a lot of food and
prepared a tray to take to a neighbor upstairs. This woman
must have been a widow. She had 3 or 4 children; well,
it had snowed a lot and it was icy. She barely got to
the door, where she slipped and broke all the dishes with
the food. She came in, prepared some more, and took her
another tray.
We had neighbors all around us. There must have-been about
eight families living in this big house, it faced north
on West Second Street. It is on the corner of West Second
and High Street. We had a real good friend who lived next
door to us. Her name was Beatrice; she didn't have any
parents, and Sophie and I felt sorry for her. She lived
with her aunt. One time we were at her house - we were
there alone, Sophie, Beatrice and myself. Her aunt was
visiting at our house and she had bought a big box of
beautiful red delicious apples; she had put them behind
a dresser. Each one of us took an apple; at that time,
her aunt walked in and Sophie hid hers behind her back
and started to sing: Tiddle, Diddle, Diddle Dumpling,
My son John." Her aunt said, "and you, Tiddle,
Diddle Dumpling, My son John, what are you hiding there?"
As I was saying, we always felt very sorry for Beatrice
because she was an orphan. We would say, 'it must be terrible
not to have a mother or father.' We sort of had a premonition
that something was going to happen. I remember telling
my mother, "if you die, I'm going to get in the coffin
and go with you."
Well, on January 12, 1924 my oldest sister, Maxine was
very sick, so my dad brought her to stay with my mother.
That night, she felt much better, and she and my mother
bathed my little brother, Joie and my niece, Sadie; both
the kids had real curly hair. They curled their hair on
their fingers.
The next day, Sunday, January 13, 1924, my mother woke
my sisters, Mary and Maxine up, and told them, "if
you want to see me die, you had better get up." She
had a heart attack and passed away at 6:00 a.m. My sister,
Mary called us to get up; as we walked into my mother's
room, she breathed her last breath. My little brother,
Joie was sleeping with her, he was crying. They couldn't
get a doctor to come; finally when Dr. Beshoar did come,
she had already passed away. My sister sent us kids upstairs,
when the Campbell Lewis Mortuary personnel came to pick
her up. We watched through the window. They had put her
in a long brown straw basket. It was the worst day of
our lives.
It was quite a shock to my dad and sister, Josie and brothers,
who were at the ranch. They couldn't believe it was my
mother that had died; they thought it was my sister, Maxine
who was so sick at the time. My mother was only 46 years
old. I remember when they brought her body home in the
casket. It was a very pale grey color. She was dressed
in a real pale pink negligee. The casket was open all
the way, her slippers were a white satin. She had a beautiful
casket cover, made of beautiful pink and lavender sweet
peas. The Columbian School had sent the flowers. I can't
remember the funeral.
(Note:
if you have Photos of this family or know of anyone that
does, please have them get in touch with us so that we
might share some photos of the family here)