abe villarrealAbe Villarreal is the Dean of Student Success at Cochise College. He enjoys writing about people, pastimes, and the small things in life. 

Losing traditions means losing community

By Abe Villarreal

When I lived in Silver City, NM, there was a yarn shop called Yada Yada Yarn. I always liked that name. I'm not sure if the proprietors defined it as a yarn shop. Maybe it was a fabric store, or a sweater store.

There was yarn everywhere. Thick yarn and not-so-thick yarn. Deep colors and light colors. The kind of yarn to make scarfs and bonnets. The kind that seems to keep going and going.

I liked that place because there was a group of ladies that would sit together to knit, and to chat. One of the ladies said that knitting together was something that ladies did for generations, but it's something that doesn't happen much anymore. That's one of the reasons the ladies at Yada Yada Yarn did it. To keep the tradition alive. Knitting and chatting. Learning from each other. Creating community.

A lot of traditions are not traditions anymore. We are in a hurry. Knitting seems like it doesn't get us from point A to point B. We can't stay in one place. We are nervous people.

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Patriotism can be shown all year long

By Abe Villarreal

I was at one of my town's parks for the Fourth of July festivities. There were people everywhere. Many showed up early in the morning to claim their spot, put down their canopies, and roll out their grills. Everyone wants a good spot.

A group of us from church gathered to promote vacation bible school registrations and to watch the fireworks.

I heard someone comment that being there felt very American. The red, white, and blue colored cookies. The flag on the pole near the center of the park. The stars and the stripes on t-shirts and visors. The hamburgers and hot dogs.

I looked around, and I did see America. People of different backgrounds. English and Spanish spoken interchangeably. Dozens of ways to prepare and present potato salad. Most everyone standing up with their hand over their heart during the national anthem.

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A grandfather's quiet service worth honoring

By Abe Villarreal

My grandfather never talked about the War. In Spanish, he called it "la Guerra." In the 1990s, as a World War II veteran heading into his twilight years, I was a teenager that wanted to know more about the War.
We read textbooks about it and watched short films of it during history class. My history teacher made it sound like the War was the biggest event in the history of the world. Maybe it was, but it was hard to see from someone who fought in it and never said anything about it.

Grandpa Abe was a Seabee. I was named after him. His first name was spelled Abram and his last name is still misspelled to this day on his military headstone. Most people spell our last names with one "r" instead of two.

I remember his funeral. The folding of the flag. The shots fired in the air. The salutes. The solemnity that comes with someone who gets a special kind of recognition for serving his country. I learned more about his service by being at his funeral and by reading about him in the newspaper. I didn't know much from what he said about it because he never said much about it.

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Summer in the southwest is a place like no other

By Abe Villarreal

Sometimes I get the feeling a lot of people think the Southwest is nothing but a dry desert. Everything a different shade of brown, cracks on the floor, and tumbleweeds rolling back and forth across long empty highways.

To me, that is beautiful. Sure, a summer afternoon at 3:00 p.m. can be too much, too hot. Still, it's beautiful.

When you look up in the sky, it's all blue. A kind of blue that's hard to describe in one word. The clouds are there, but they are too far away to provide shade. The trees are green this time of year. The grass is green ,too. It's not always this way. Those things are beautiful too.

If you live in certain parts of Arizona, Nevada, or New Mexico, you know that the newspaper will say something about record-breaking heat. A kind of heat that feels like just the reporter says it will feel. Like it will break something.

And yet, the lizards are out doing their pushups. The occasional snake you see is slithering on the side of trails during your evening walks. The cacti have flowers. Your dog knows it's too hot too, but he can't miss his daily walk. All that makes living in these parts beautiful.

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My favorite waitress, a latte, and a smile

By Abe Villarreal

There’s a waitress at the Gadsden Hotel in Douglas, Arizona, whose name is Fatima. She’s there on Sunday morning when I need her most. More than the coffee, and more than the Sunday comics and word puzzles, she’s there.

I sit at the bar in the café. Usually, the other stools are empty. It’s not the most comfy setup, especially if you have long legs. Fortunately, I don’t. On Sunday mornings, local families come in for morning brunch. Visitors to town and hotel guests walk in and out.

The café is the most modern and least extravagant section of the historic Gadsden, once billed as the last of the grand hotels. The outside of the building, erected in 1907 and then rebuilt after a fire in 1928, is unassuming. What looks like a big, plain square building surprises visitors with what’s inside. Stained glass windows, marble columns, and a grand staircase. Legends of ghosts in room 333 and pictures of celebrities who’ve visited help make the place feel magical.

And then there’s Fatima. She’s not like the rest of the Gadsden. Its grandness and fanciness, its overwhelming feeling of awe and history. She’s just Fatima, and she’s there every Sunday morning.

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Summer is here. Thank your teachers.

By Abe Villarreal

Summer is here. The sun is out, and so is school. Teachers can be seen at stores during daylight hours. They are taking vacations. They are doing regular people things. The kind of things they can't do during the nine months of the year they are overworked and underpaid. Living behind a desk and a grade book.

I'll never forget the first time I saw a teacher outside the classroom. I realized they were real people that did real things. They shopped and had their own kids. I thought that I and my other third grade classmates were their kids. We always heard them say we were.

Now, over 30 years after elementary school, when I run into a teacher she usually remembers me first. She's the one that stops and asks how I am doing and if I remember her. "How's your dad and mom?" she asks. She still cares for me and my family. "I'm so proud of you, mijo." She's still proud.

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Why I like my hometown more than any other place

By Abe Villarreal

People like to ask me why I moved back to my hometown. Sometimes I feel bothered when this happens because it's one of those questions that comes with a suggestion. Sometimes it comes with an answer in a tone of voice or an extra emphasis on the words "why" and "back."

Most other places have other things that my hometown doesn't. Bigger stores. Restaurants that dish out more than Mexican food. Choices of where to shop. People that look different from each other. They speak differently from each other.

I like all those things, but I like my hometown better. I was in Austin this week scooting around the city. There's a lot of walking to do, but getting on those scooters is a bit more thrilling, and you can see more in a place where there is a lot to see. Buildings that touch the sky. Eateries of all kinds with food that you can't pronounce. Music coming from every corner. People in suits and people in sandals. There is some of everything in Austin.

I like all of it, but I like my hometown more. When I was growing up in the small town of Douglas, Arizona, the town seemed bigger. The streets longer. It took a while to get to downtown if you were walking, and along the way were familiar faces. You could stop by the arcade store and the card shop. There weren't too many surprises.

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A simple birthday cake to celebrate simplicity

By Abe Villarreal

I forgot to tell people that I wanted a real birthday cake on my birthday. An honest-to-goodness real birthday cake. I had carrot cake and other kinds of cake. They were good, but they didn't feel like birthday cakes. There is a difference.

I'm talking about the kind that is white. It might have a filling, and it's decorated with white frosting and maybe sprinkles. Yes, definitely sprinkles.

Everyone tries to be fancy these days. They want to impress with macarons and tiramisu. Those are good for fancy occasions but not birthdays. On birthdays, I like a good old-fashioned birthday cake.

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