Editor’s Note: Today’s edition of the Rio Grande Sun welcomes former Española Mayor Javier Sanchez as a twice-monthly opinion columnist. Normally his columns will run in the paper on either the editorial or op/edit page but today’s is so compelling and timely we decided to introduce his column on A-1. Sanchez’s writing ability and clear thinking caught our attention in some op/ed submissions from him to the paper.
Looking through the eyes of anyone who loves Española, we get to see what our city is, has been and could be. When we look through the eyes of my good friend Jose Espinoza, we see the very best that Española has to offer: our hopes and dreams, our fears and our weaknesses. Jose was born in Santa Cruz and died in San Pedro. If there were anyone who truly represents the past, the present and the future, it is he. At 95 years old when he passed away last week, Jose had witnessed war and famine, as well as love, beauty and unity. He embodied the characteristics most true to the City of Española. We know Jose wasn’t perfect just like none of us are. But with every glance and every blinking moment, he fought for redemption. Whether it’s through our children, our legacy, or the people we touch, history transforms itself.
It is precisely because Jose wasn’t perfect that we love him wholeheartedly. It is precisely because Española isn’t perfect that we fight for her. I have been privileged to see our city at its very best, and at its worst. As Españolans, we find our greatest strengths particularly when we recognize our greatest weaknesses.
In the end we are no different from any other city or village in any other state or nation in the world. Yet our specific identity and traditions somehow take root, making our valley particularly important and singularly ours. Respecting tradition and culture mean more to us than anything. Nevertheless, finding a meaningful connection to our past remains elusive and confusing. We exist as a paradox, embracing polar opposites of a story that we can’t seem to reconcile. Until we learn to combine the good with the bad, we will forever remain at war with ourselves. And this war of our own doing drags us further apart and perpetuates the cycle of poverty, abuse and self-destruction. Just as Jose had to put to rest his own personal demons, we must find harmony between old and new to break the circle of dysfunction and forge our own path toward a better community.
Between the Rio and our acequias and the mayordomo, our culture comes alive. Our ancestors teach the ways of ancient alchemy and growing traditions that bring us the bounty of calabazas, beans and green chile. Their whispers can be heard, repeating the need to sew, sow, and love. We cook to survive. We cook to feed our souls. The history and song of repetition haunt us. And it drowns us. Because sometimes we repeat the wrong things. Circles of bad behavior and destructive patterns overwhelm us and take root. We are suffocated by the pull of habit. Yet without it, we are nothing, meaningless and lifeless. There is another way. There must be.
Jose and I would talk about the change in work ethic. All the for-hire signs in shops and restaurants and yet so many people looking for work. Covid and the new economy have shifted prosperity and changed the economic landscape. And so has the “mijito syndrome”: the desire to shield our children from the realities of life rather than give them the tools to cope with adversity. This is characteristic of parents who feel sorry for their children rather than push them to do better. We allow ourselves to keep lowering the bar for success and make excuses. Something Jose never did especially for his three daughters, five grandchildren and nine great grandchildren. Perhaps he learned it from serving in the US Army, but either way, it seems to have worked.
I met the family many years ago and have also spent time with Genoveva, Jose’s wife. She is a seamstress by trade, and I keep telling her I’m going to use her tailoring expertise to mend my clothes. Every time I would visit, their living room was filled with the damp humidity of beans on the stove. Jose had a beaming smile and would tell everyone, “Come closer, I can’t see” just to get you to sit next to him. Always with a soda in her hand, Genoveva would offer me a drink and a place in their home. But it is in my heart that I now know, they both feel most comfortable.
If we are ever to pay appropriate respects to Jose or our beloved Española, then we must follow in his footsteps. We must recognize our wrongs but celebrate the beauty of every moment. Recognize our imperfections. And forgive ourselves while learning from our mistakes. Practice good habits and break free of those that have kept us behind. Go in peace, Jose. And Española, may we embark on a future of prosperity, love and wild abandon. Javier Sánchez is the former mayor of the City of Española, NM, and the co-owner of La Cocina New Mexican Restaurant.