unm
and has tended sheep there ever since. When her aunts and uncles speak, you can hear traces of the original dialect their ancestors brought with them from Spain, untainted after four centuries. Her father, Gabriel, and uncle, Miguel,
were the basis for the movie And Now Miguel, a semifactual account of Miguel’s desire to become a man by joining his older brothers as they moved the family’s sheep flock high into the mountains. Later a Newbery
Award-winning children’s book, the story is well known throughout the Americas. Jobs and education have taken Chávez away from the area, but she says she feels the responsibility to preserve and promote her heritage from afar. The former dean of students at UW-Madison, she studies diversity in higher education, and says Ketchum’s work “reminds me why I choose to study culture. It’s so important to recognize how it defines people.” “We should try to contribute something to the lives of the subjects we study,” Chávez says. “I’m very proud that Cavalliere is contributing by giving back these memories. And what a wonderful gift he’s giving.”
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Epilogue: At Home, Con Nombre
Alicia Chávez came home for good this past fall when she accepted the position of director of UNM-Taos. She once again feels con nombre herself, she says. “Although I have been very much with my family name of Chávez, I have in many ways felt sin nombre while I have been away from New Mexico and especially away from Taos. To be the ‘only one’ or one of very few who lives by the rhythms of Northern New Mexico has been very painful. Here I am known through my family as well as through my own work. That is such a comforting feeling.” Chávez says her experience of Hispanic cultures all over the United States has been one of connection. “A startling trait of Latino cultures is that of wanting to place people in the context of their families, and names are a very sacred part of this process.” “Being placed in the context of a large extended family has its challenges,” she says, “yet there is always the comfort of not being alone regardless of what you are going through. There is also the comfort of having those who have known you since you were born, who share histories and tease you about your idiosyncrasies and remind you that first you are a sister and daughter and aunt... not a title. “Hispano/Latino cultures often do take in wandering strangers and make them con nombre... my family certainly does this all the time. It is the process almost of making sure that each person is connected. Visitors to my hometown of Taos often remark that people took them in whether they wanted to be taken in or not! That is the messy side of connection, yet in the long run I find that even those who were uncomfortable with this connection at first, in the long run find being con nombre to be a precious part of their lives.”
The Missing Piece For all his success in locating the lost souls of the FSA files, Ketchum was for years frustrated by what should have been his simplest find. John Collier's photographs of the rancher’s sons had him stumped. On many fruitless trips along the high road, he began to wonder if he would ever find that little boy and decipher his knowing smile. The problem, ironically, was that some of the photographs Collier took were identified. The photo of the boys indicated that they lived in Córdova, in Rio Arriba County. Another image named their father as Blas Sánchez. Ketchum went to Córdova, a mountain town well south on the high road, but no one knew the man. Strangely, no one even recognized the house or the landscape. He searched the town’s cemeteries, but not only did he not find Blas Sánchez, he encountered very few Sánchezes at all, certainly not enough to suggest a large family living there.
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M I R A G E
m a g a z i n e
Matthew Dunn
F A T E ’ S I N T E R V E N T I O N : Alicia Chávez considers her colleague’s discovery of her family in depression-era photographs “not simply a cosmic coincidence, but a grand stroke of fate,” writes Michael Penn.