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When I think back on the brief time in New Mexico I think back on the relatively few days and hours I spent in Hogans and ruins and traditional compounds. I think of the native jewelry in silver and turquoise and the two items I managed to buy and keep for a number of years. I also think of weavings and the Ojo de Dios objects which combined weaving and a woodwork design in geometric shapes. Ojo de DIos was a Spanish phrase, not a Navajo word. I didn’t speak Spanish at that time. I also remember the variety of license plates I saw from various Native AMerican or Indian Nations and the ones that said New Mexico “Land of Enchantment.” I remember the skies in the dry clear mountain air far from city light pollution that could be so full of stars. I remember talking to my friends the Bordelons about the skies in Tonga that had different stars which included parts of what was the Southern sky including the Southern Cross of the flags New Zealand and Australia and parts of the sky that were part of the northern sky that were slightly visible in the North. I explained how it had been a non event when we crossed the equator in almost every way but still it was different. It was about half as far South of the equator as New Zealand, the last place I would live in the Southern Hemisphere. But it had great sky views in those days and I think it still does. So did New Mexico.
I cannot look back on the time in New Mexico after leaving American Samoa without thinking about all it has come to mean to me since then. That includes the time I spent in Las Cruces when we lived in El Paso Texas and it includes talking to a friend I made even later in life who was from Roswell and talked to me about the culture of UFOlogy there and the UFO tourism in the town.that was her home town. I was aware when I stayed among the NAvajo that I was there both to witness the Gospel and invite people into the Catholic Church on the one hand and also was very eager to understand what traditional Navajo religion was all about. When my family toured Europe we had lived on a farm in the Swiss Alps for a while. But really, this was one of my longest states in Mountains up to that point in my life.I was reading the Bible a lot and I was very aware of Mount Sinai, Mount Horeb, Mount Carmel, Mount Tabor and the unnamed mountains such as that of the Sermon on the Mount where God had drawn close to humanity. Mount Rainmaker in Samoa created its own clouds in the midst of the ocean, but the Mountains of New Mexico raised us up above much of the atmosphere to the star crowded skies.
We boarded that plane in American Samoa on December 22. So our arrival in the cold of Albuquerque was a Christmas thing. Like most snowy states, first snowfall means the first snow of a tenth of an inch or more that persists. Albuquerque has plenty of White Chritmasses even by that standard. However a lower standard than the records would allow bits of snow on the rocks in mountain passes – I am not sure what the records will show. but whenever legal snowfall documents may state – l I clearly remember our headlights picking up the glint and shine of bits of snow as we moved through the mountains towards Thoreau and Blue Lake New Mexico where the Bordelons lived. However, It was not a landscape wrapped in snow. Like almost everything in my life I have no confidence that the records will back up what I know to be the truth of the past. Of course any snow was a big deal compared to the South Pacific. The Bordelon’s home was decorated for Christmas and they had a fireplace and a wood burning stove as well as other heat. It seemed like a great place to land for Christmas.
The big news that we shared was not only the Good News of the Gospel reminding us that on Christmas we remembered the birth of Jesus Christ. In Bethlehem. The other good news for the prolific Bordelons was evident as Mom and Diane charred the joy of her expecting the baby that was going to be known and named as my oldest sister Sarah. Barry and Dad had some rejoicing about the fact that our families were becoming more alike. The Bordelon kids were interested in how I was transitioning from being an online child to expecting a sibling. Overall, I was pretty happy about it.
The reunion with the Bordelons, who were working for the Checkerboard Missions and serving in Saint Bonaventure Catholic Church Parish in Thoreau New Mexico brought together two families from Abbeville, Louisiana who had already been changed to some significant degree by their time in the missions. It was difficult to know exactly how to be with my friends and to chart the social and emotional distance between the way we had been together in a different time past in Abbeville, Forked Island and other parts of Louisiana. then and the way we were supposed to be now. We talked about home and who had kept in touch and who had not. We tried to sense the differences and similarities between the ways that each of us had bought into the religious vocation of our respected families and the degree to which we were resisting it in favor of more normalcy.
We talked about the Navajo. Went to Church and met the priest, the school that was not currently in much use for some reason. Before we left my parents and I would spend at least some nights in that school building, it was the first but not the last time we would live in an underutilized or abandoned church school building. While there we would tour the Navajo cultural and historical exhibits and museums in Crown Point, New Mexico. For was while it seemed that I would enroll in the school that the Bordelon children went to – I was scared that I was not going to be evaluated fairly or well in a way that would assess my placement and I was nervous about the new school in an environment that I did not know. But I am not sure that any of these were significant factors in me not going to school there. Some of my memories have become blurry and confused and the timeline of our lives in those days would be practically impossible to retrace in any effort short of a very well funded book with many months of research for some weeks of our lives. However, it is possible to tell true facts and avoid falsehoods. It is also possible to capture a specific general tone and set of qualities that connected that time to my larger subject – in this text that larger subject is my own life.
I had a very bad experience in my time there but I don’t remember where exactly it fit into the timeline of our stay there. It involved a rather clumsy effort to entrap, shame and humiliate me by the creation of an incident and the misreporting of it. That kind of thing had happened before and many far worse things that I have not reported in this text. The pain of such events and the damage done to me and my long-term mental health were real.Here the betrayal involved one of the Bordelon kids and their father. But the general pattern for me was that among other things as a child observant and aware of people and the misbehavior of adults I was particularly vulnerable to malice and retribution. If I was very decisively an influential lesson in my life. If I was much more powerful and respectable and immune from ordinary harms then I would probably write a very different memoir, I would name names and describe details in some numbers and have research done to corroborate such things. But as things stand in this version I am still telling less than many memoirs. This is very far from a tell-all. I don’t know what impact the secrets I carry from my life have had on the trajectory of my life. But there has never been a time when I did not have in my memory a good number of really bad incidents that I could attribute to other people.
Although I can emphatically state that I never engaged in anything that could be construed as sexual behavior when I was a kid there were incidents that involved seeing people naked or in various sec acts. Some of these incidents were accidental and innocent and really not situations in which anyone had done anything very malicious or evil. However, others were elaborate forms of harm – some directed at me and some directed at others but witnessed by me. I also had come to know that people used sex, the shame of sex and the criminal penalties related to sex to pressure and blackmail people into other bad or criminal behavior – or if they were very vulnerable to sexual shame they might even pressure them into suicide or at least poverty and bankruptcy.
I was alienated in some significant way by may parents choices, alienated as a kid not in school, alienated by the malice of so much of the human race, alienated by the fact of being a white guy in Navajoland and alienated because my friends among the Bordelon boys knew how to split firewood for the fireplaces and to cut logs into firewood size lengths and many other things related to living close to the land in New Mexico that I did not know. They were not big on teaching when it required a lot of speaking in the cold. So I did not make much progress in learning those skills.
Somewhere in those weeks, I found myself alone with the adults when the Bordelon kids went to school. I set up a sort of school schedule mostly on my own. I read an entire encyclopedia of wildlife and a number of books on Navajo culture and a book or two on the liturgical reforms in the Catholic Church after the Second Vatican Council. Sunday Mass was better attended but daily Mass was bothe very poorly attended and beautiful and exciting to me, The priest led a mass that demonstrated a degree of the experimentation at the time and I was thrilled by both its freshness and the ancient and scriptural elements of the Eucharist and the study of the Sacred Scriptures. Once a week we had a prayer meeting with guest speakers and some were protestants from small churches not so far away who would normally have been pretty anti-Catholic – but these speakers were generally respectful of the place where they were speaking. The greatest oddity of the Church was that the altar, tabernacle, pulpits, baptismal font and other sacred spaces were placed close enough together so that they could be closed off from the rest of the space. The seating was removed from the rest of the church. The large part that might be called the nave was used as a skating rink for several evenings each week and the funds raised were used to help support the church and its ministries. In addition, Navajo teenagers who came to skate might not come tot the missions for any other reason and there was an effort to share the gospel and invite them to participate in the life of the church. I had long conversations with a few Navajo Christians about the connection between their Christian lives and traditional Navajo religious culture. I tried even then to figure out how this related to the struggle of Polynesian Christians to integrate their faith with Polynesian religious heritage. I also was aware that South Louisiana had religious traditions that either complemented and enhanced or else defiled the practice of Christianity in the region I would always call home.
A few days before typing the major draft of this chapter I was talking about how I had lived through some exotic encounters with North Koreans when I was in China. “I have lived a very unusual life. I am sure that it is hard to believe some of my stories. That is why I don’t tell some of them very often.”
“I like this kind of conversation.” My sister-in-law responded.
Overall the conversations of this past weekend of Saint Patrick’s Day 2024 were about the CHristian, Faith, Catholic Sacraments and family traditions. My wife has been doing volunteer work improving Church records at our home church. I find a lot of interest in all her research and when she sends me a picture of a record related to my family it gives me a thrill and almost as much when it is one of her ancestors. My same sister-in-law also has a strong interest in these records, genealogies and family histories.
I really enjoy a lot of what goes on in the ordinary and not so ordinary flow of life. I also find a lot of interest in and expend a lot of energy on understanding the things I don’t like in ordinary life. But I still do care about some things in the realm of the mystical, mysterious and unexplained. I will return to those areas again in this narrative but will not be able to fully do it justice in this book. My mother’s book, Go You are Sent: An Incredible Odyssey of Faith treats the whole period of this visit to New Mexico along with some other things in the chapter titled Navajos to La Cueva. She spends fewer words on this period than I do but she is more careful to confine herself to recounting those events. My tone here is to talk about my own life and formation as we go. Just since I began writing this online memoir, I have received word that I am probably eligible to at least be seriously considered for the Medicare portion of disability. I am fully vested in DIsability retirement since I earned the minimum of forty valid quarters years ago and I will get something if I live to retire. The minimum retirement age is 62. It won’t be a lot but if I take it then I will get a retirement income. I will get a bit more at 67 and the maximum at 70. For disability the general but not absolute rule is not the forty valid Social Security quarters but rather 20 valid Social Security quarters in the last 10 years and 20 valid Medicare quarters in the last ten years. I have the Medicare quarters and therefore qualify for early Medicare, if I am deemed disabled enough. But I don’t have the Social Security quarters, some of my paychecks paid into the Louisiana State Teachers Retirement Fund and some went into a special public service FICA replacement retirement fund. Someone from a Social Security office suggested that I apply to one of these funds for disability pay. I am still not sure how it will play out but I may not qualify to get the monetary benefit under Social Security and if that is the case I may be much nearer the end of my life’s journey than otherwise. It is with that sense of retrospection that I am accounting for this period. .
When I think of the time in New Mexico I think of having just left Polynesia and thinking how people were seeking to preserve family and tradition in the modern world and how Christianity fit into all of this. I still care about all of those things and they still all factor into the way that I actually spend my time. This past weekend illustrates that I am still preoccupied with many of the same concerns.
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On March 17, 2024 Clara and I celebrated the First Communion of her nephew and godson Zacharie in a small rural Catholic Church in Iberia Parish here in South Louisiana. Her brother Clenes and his wife Lori stayed with us for a Saturday and Sunday night as they came in from the Dallas-Fort Worth area to attend. .Zacharie is the child of her sister Gigi and her husband. Her youngest brother – who is the priest who presided over our Wedding – was there as well. It was a beautiful celebration. Clara got him a rosary with his name engraved on the sterling silver cross. This rosary was like the silver rosary with her name engraved on it that her godfather had given her from the same retailer and sometimes manufacturer of rosaries and other religious items when she was a little girl making her First Communion..
Today I tended to plants in our lawn and garden area and I cut the front lawn with a motorless push (reel style) lawnmower. I am a homebody when I can be, in a way that seems not so different from what I remember of both the Samoans and the Navajo at that time. But we did not stay in either place very long. However, our stay in New Mexico was much shorter than our stay in American Samoa. My mother writes of our time there in these words;
The ancient, noble way of life on the reservation inspired us. We were drawn deeply to the privilege that it would be to know them better. We knew that the more that they embraced Christ the keener would be their ability to preach his Word. How beautiful that word would be coming from such a rich heritage.
The Bordelons left New Mexico for a visit to Abbeville in late January and early February. We stayed behind on Mission with Father Doug. Living in the Mountains gave us a chance to be alone as a family. Barry had been right in his description of the mountains of New Mexico. They were beautiful in a spiritual way. God was near to us there.” (Summers, page 182)..
In those weeks that we were alone I used to ride the hard plastic toboggan like sleds and disks the Bordelons had for the snow. I often did this alone and sometimes even at night alone.Racing down the little slopes lit by star and moonlight was a great thrill. I loved physical activity and adventure and knew that I rarely made an impression on others that would make me feel better about myself or the activities that I was involved in every chance I got. So doing things alone was always an option that I was ready to consider, the pure love of solitary sports was already a theme in my life.
In the night sky I would watch the shooting stars and the glow of the Milky Way and I tried to find some of the many stars I saw on an old star map I had managed to acquire and hold on to for a while. In the sky I watched as often as I could, I saw some things I could not explain. That had not been the first time and would not be the last but I had enough things on this planet to occupy my interest until we left New Mexico to join up with Father Rick Thomas and his ministries centered around Our Lady’s Youth Center and The Lord’s Ranch near El Paso, Texas. When we did leave, I wondered if I would ever again return to Navajoland. So far I have not.











