The Way We Were: ‘Christmas Past’
Posted: Friday, December 20, 2013 by Paul Milan, Historical Society, for the Beacon
With the aid of television I could not help but observe the craze for shopping that was taking place during Thanksgiving and Christmas.
We are in an economic recession yet it was reported that the average family spends $700 for Christmas. I lived in Gallup during the Great Depression and my family celebrated the holidays with a gathering of aunts, uncles, and fifteen grandchildren at my grandmother’s house. On Christmas Eve the youngsters were allowed to open presents, which were clothes, so that we had something new to wear on Christmas Day. The adults would go to Midnight Mass except for a couple of uncles whom felt obliged to cook “chorizos” (Spanish sausage) for the church-goers; these two uncles always found an excuse to miss the religious services. On Christmas Day the smaller ones were taken to church and allowed to open the one toy present that we would cherish for the year. Some of our uncles gave us a few coins and we would go to the Firestone store the next day and buy a toy at the 50 percent sale. We told our parents our cousins gave us the extra toy.
My grandmother was from Spain so the food for Christmas for many years was caldo de pollo, chorizos, pan Espanol, mantecados, turro, paella or arroz con pollo, gazpachos, flan, and ensalada. This is what I thought was a typical New Mexican Christmas dinner. Since we did not go to restaurants during the Depression or World War II, I had assumed that those that advertised Spanish food were what my grandmother served.
There was plenty to eat, a lot of chatter, singing, and laughter. On Christmas afternoon an older cousin took us to the movie to get us out of the adults’ hair. The ticket cost ten cents; I read that some movie tickets today were up to ten dollars. I don’t think a bag of popcorn cost five cents anymore. We didn’t buy a Coke because the drugstore would serve us a Coke for five cents and let us order one Coke with two cups to split it up.
In the early 1940s we moved to the Milan Ranch and our lives changed since we had no plumbing, electricity, heat, neighbors, or cousins to play with. The economy was much better but there was nothing available because of the War. We continued to spend Christmas with our grandmother in Gallup and the only thing that I desired for Christmas was to soak in a hot bath for at least an hour. Bathing at the ranch was a sponge bath on Saturday night.
Christmas shopping at the ranch was through the Sears/Roebuck catalogue for that one gift to cherish for the rest of the year. They were never as attractive as the picture. Each class in the Grants Grade School had a party with a gift exchange by drawing names. We were sent to the High School Gym and the Grants Fire Department passed out a bag containing an apple, an orange, a few nuts, and a few pieces of hard candy.
I don’t know why that bag was so precious to me because my mother made all kinds of candy and even though sugar was rationed everybody brought her their allotment to make candy for them for Christmas.
Once we moved to the ranch and my grandmother passed away we spent the holidays in San Rafael with my mother’s relatives and got to dine on New Mexican Christmas food (not Spanish): tamales, blue-corn tortillas enchiladas, empanadas, biscochitos (bizcochitos), flour tortillas, carne adovado (adobado), frijoles, chile rellenos, and posole (pozole).
Lately there has been a lot of talk about the spelling of “chile” verses “chili.” I found out that “chili” is an Aztec word and we in New Mexico spelled it the way we heard it. One might not agree with the Aztec spelling but one has to thank them for bringing “chili” or “chile” to our table.
The first time I asked for “chile” in Mexico they responded, “Que clase?”
I asked for green and if they did not have it I would take red. They said, “We have every color available: the jalapenos, serranos, and poplanos are green. The chipotle, chile de arbol, chili pasilla and chili pequin are red plus a dozen more.” They also added that they didn’t recommend the pink-orange chile havanero because it will burn your insides out. I learned to eat dozens of different salsas of every color and chili served in many ways but never encountered red or green “chile” made the New Mexican way.
Almost every household in San Rafael was either related to my mother or was a relative of my mother’s relative, so we made the rounds until we were well stuffed. The young ones would start at one end of town and visit our relatives who would greet us with a hug and feed us. The first four houses from the East were relatives as was every other house and by the time we got to the last house where other cousins lived we were so stuffed that we had to play hard so we could make the journey back and visit the relatives on the south side street. It seemed that all of the houses had a wood-burning stove in the porch where baked bread was made; the aroma filled the air; and we were greeted with a large piece of warm bread covered with apple-butter. Everybody seemed to have an apple orchard in San Rafael.
As I recall the past I can’t remember what toy I ever got but I do remember the hugs, the food, the laughter, the music, and the love that we received from those who are all gone but not forgotten. I have watched my grandchildren with all of the toys that they receive and watch as they eventually play with the wrappings and the boxes, and the commotion they make putting away all of their toys into the toy box.
What is a toy box? This last year my grandchildren got computers, phones, and virtual games.
At that age the best high tech gift that I cherished was a flashlight, which was very handy at night since the outhouse was a city block away from the ranch house.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Editor’s Note: Paul Milan contributes to the Beacon’s history column and is a longtime resident of Cibola County. Milan’s father, Salvador Milan, was the Village of Milan’s first mayor.
Posted: Friday, December 20, 2013 by Paul Milan, Historical Society, for the Beacon
With the aid of television I could not help but observe the craze for shopping that was taking place during Thanksgiving and Christmas.
We are in an economic recession yet it was reported that the average family spends $700 for Christmas. I lived in Gallup during the Great Depression and my family celebrated the holidays with a gathering of aunts, uncles, and fifteen grandchildren at my grandmother’s house. On Christmas Eve the youngsters were allowed to open presents, which were clothes, so that we had something new to wear on Christmas Day. The adults would go to Midnight Mass except for a couple of uncles whom felt obliged to cook “chorizos” (Spanish sausage) for the church-goers; these two uncles always found an excuse to miss the religious services. On Christmas Day the smaller ones were taken to church and allowed to open the one toy present that we would cherish for the year. Some of our uncles gave us a few coins and we would go to the Firestone store the next day and buy a toy at the 50 percent sale. We told our parents our cousins gave us the extra toy.
My grandmother was from Spain so the food for Christmas for many years was caldo de pollo, chorizos, pan Espanol, mantecados, turro, paella or arroz con pollo, gazpachos, flan, and ensalada. This is what I thought was a typical New Mexican Christmas dinner. Since we did not go to restaurants during the Depression or World War II, I had assumed that those that advertised Spanish food were what my grandmother served.
There was plenty to eat, a lot of chatter, singing, and laughter. On Christmas afternoon an older cousin took us to the movie to get us out of the adults’ hair. The ticket cost ten cents; I read that some movie tickets today were up to ten dollars. I don’t think a bag of popcorn cost five cents anymore. We didn’t buy a Coke because the drugstore would serve us a Coke for five cents and let us order one Coke with two cups to split it up.
In the early 1940s we moved to the Milan Ranch and our lives changed since we had no plumbing, electricity, heat, neighbors, or cousins to play with. The economy was much better but there was nothing available because of the War. We continued to spend Christmas with our grandmother in Gallup and the only thing that I desired for Christmas was to soak in a hot bath for at least an hour. Bathing at the ranch was a sponge bath on Saturday night.
Christmas shopping at the ranch was through the Sears/Roebuck catalogue for that one gift to cherish for the rest of the year. They were never as attractive as the picture. Each class in the Grants Grade School had a party with a gift exchange by drawing names. We were sent to the High School Gym and the Grants Fire Department passed out a bag containing an apple, an orange, a few nuts, and a few pieces of hard candy.
I don’t know why that bag was so precious to me because my mother made all kinds of candy and even though sugar was rationed everybody brought her their allotment to make candy for them for Christmas.
Once we moved to the ranch and my grandmother passed away we spent the holidays in San Rafael with my mother’s relatives and got to dine on New Mexican Christmas food (not Spanish): tamales, blue-corn tortillas enchiladas, empanadas, biscochitos (bizcochitos), flour tortillas, carne adovado (adobado), frijoles, chile rellenos, and posole (pozole).
Lately there has been a lot of talk about the spelling of “chile” verses “chili.” I found out that “chili” is an Aztec word and we in New Mexico spelled it the way we heard it. One might not agree with the Aztec spelling but one has to thank them for bringing “chili” or “chile” to our table.
The first time I asked for “chile” in Mexico they responded, “Que clase?”
I asked for green and if they did not have it I would take red. They said, “We have every color available: the jalapenos, serranos, and poplanos are green. The chipotle, chile de arbol, chili pasilla and chili pequin are red plus a dozen more.” They also added that they didn’t recommend the pink-orange chile havanero because it will burn your insides out. I learned to eat dozens of different salsas of every color and chili served in many ways but never encountered red or green “chile” made the New Mexican way.
Almost every household in San Rafael was either related to my mother or was a relative of my mother’s relative, so we made the rounds until we were well stuffed. The young ones would start at one end of town and visit our relatives who would greet us with a hug and feed us. The first four houses from the East were relatives as was every other house and by the time we got to the last house where other cousins lived we were so stuffed that we had to play hard so we could make the journey back and visit the relatives on the south side street. It seemed that all of the houses had a wood-burning stove in the porch where baked bread was made; the aroma filled the air; and we were greeted with a large piece of warm bread covered with apple-butter. Everybody seemed to have an apple orchard in San Rafael.
As I recall the past I can’t remember what toy I ever got but I do remember the hugs, the food, the laughter, the music, and the love that we received from those who are all gone but not forgotten. I have watched my grandchildren with all of the toys that they receive and watch as they eventually play with the wrappings and the boxes, and the commotion they make putting away all of their toys into the toy box.
What is a toy box? This last year my grandchildren got computers, phones, and virtual games.
At that age the best high tech gift that I cherished was a flashlight, which was very handy at night since the outhouse was a city block away from the ranch house.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Editor’s Note: Paul Milan contributes to the Beacon’s history column and is a longtime resident of Cibola County. Milan’s father, Salvador Milan, was the Village of Milan’s first mayor.