My parents lived for the art and very much wanted to share the history, and being my parents....good food was always involved.
I have no recollection of the food from then, however my mom always kept blue corn meal on hand to make corn bread with, I can remember friends always being surprised by the blue bread.
This trip to Taos, 40 years later was brief and bittersweet. As with all things, change is inevitable, both for the good and some questionable. Mom & Dad are both gone now as is the quaintness of the community. The old part of town that you pass through on your way to the Pueblo is now surrounded by the "great homogenization of America" with "insert chain name here" stores and 1/2 empty strip malls. The old town still feels like a space where you can sit and be at peace while observing and chatting with people you meet, even for the first time. Or browse through the galleries or watch someone at their trade...but with a more kitschy feel. We did not go and look to see if the police station was still in an underground building in the park, I had forgotten about this as we maneuvered through the tourist laden streets until much later.
The Taos Pueblo has been made into a UNESCO World Heritage site, which has brought a great deal of attention to these people. I can remember as a kid watching the children playing in the open spaces, dogs being happy and free and watching smoke come from chimney and adobe ovens alike. Everyone going about their chores and day to day activities, just like anywhere else that had a village square. Now, it is like walking into a living museum where there are no children, no families, no life... The dogs were happy though, but watchful too as though expecting to be scolded or worse.
The architecture and history are still stories needing to be shared so they do not fade away like empty husks, just not certain who is profiting ($ or spiritually).
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