​Greetings fellow Abiquiuers. Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah. Or whatever you’re celebrating. In addition to those seasons, this is what I call “Pre-Tax Time”. It’s a time you should be looking at your investments to try to balance out gains with losses before 12/31/24. 
 
Why? The Markets have been great this year, again, and you probably have some nice gains in your portfolio. But nothing’s perfect and you may have some losses too. If so it’s time to take some of those losses to offset the gains. 
 
Let’s define terms here. There are long term (greater than one year) gains/losses and short term (less than a year). The difference is solely in tax treatment. Long term gains are taxed at a lower rate, 0-20% maximum.
 
Another term is “realized” vs “unrealized” gains and losses. You “realize” a gain/loss when you sell an investment. It’s “unrealized” if you haven’t sold it yet. We’re only talking about REALIZED gains/losses here. Unrealized are not taxed yet. 
 
Another factor is where the investments are. If they are in a “qualified” investment like an IRA, or 401K, or TSA, or any kind of pension or profit sharing plan, those gains and losses are not eligible for taking gains and losses in the way I am speaking of here. Gains and losses in those plans simply stay there until you take a withdrawal, then it’s taxed like “ordinary income”. 
 
So what do we do? In your “Non-Qualified” (joint or individual or trust) accounts, look at your gains and losses and, after seeking tax advice from your professional if you have one, you can take losses - that is, sell those investments - up to the gains you have “realized” so far this year. This makes the gains tax free. 
 
In fact, you can take losses up to $3,000 greater than your offset losses and use that $3,000, if you itemize, as a deduction against other income. Nice deal. 
 
I’d review this with your CPA or tax-preparer to make sure other factors are not at play. But it’s an annual exercise you should engage in if you want to minimize your taxes. 
 
Have a very Merry Christmas!
Peter J Nagle
Income Specialist
Thoughtful Income Advisory
Abiquiu, NM 87510-1321
505-423-5378
Email thoughtfulincome@gmail.com

Wraps, as in gifts, as in... oh, just roll with it.
By Zach Hively

It’s that time of year again, when we are all left wondering what to get that one special person in our lives who watches our dogs.

That one special person—let’s call him Richard because that is his name—already has everything he could ever desire, including time with our dogs, our fridge stocked with beer when he arrives, and a decent percentage of our money.

But what Richard does not have is a ticket to the opera. We recommend giving him one, based entirely on how much he enjoyed The Elixir of Love at the Santa Fe Opera this summer.

The first glowing thing we can point out about Donizetti’s and Romani’s opera is its modest runtime: Unlike certain other operas we might mention if we knew more about operas, this one did not require us to book our dogsitters in order to attend. Handy, that, seeing as we’d invited him to come with us after his wife turned us down.
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But that is hardly the only glowing thing. The set itself also glowed—washed in warm light reminiscent of how I imagine things looked ca. 1946, full of sunflowers imported (we must presume) direct from Italy. A billboard filled the on-stage sky—but a warm billboard, an Italian billboard, with hand-painted lettering and imagery of pre-GMO farming practices. Not one of those blocky sans-serif atrocities pounding you with JAWS OF DEATH? CALL JEFF! and then a phone number with one numeral repeated seven times so you can remember it even after the most traumatic of traffic jams.

This billboard made us want some warm bread. Which, we must note, was not served during intermission. That is the only thing we might recommend the opera do differently.

Well, that and one other thing. We’ve been meaning to report this to the operatic management for weeks now: This opera was mistakenly quite funny. Opera is not ever supposed to be funny, leastwise not in the deep understanding we have from attending three whole operas this summer, for which we always stayed awake.

Opera is meant for Serious Themes and Tragedy and Foreign Singing—and, sometimes, enough Death and/or Mental Anguish for JEFF! to ambulance-chase each of the principals backstage.
We don’t know if this humor was a prank on the part of Director Stephen Lawless living up to his name, or a cast gone rogue on closing night. But Elixir was undoubtedly funny—funny enough to threaten men less secure than us.

In fact, the opera as staged garnered two distinct and hearty laughs before anyone but the Chorus sang. One involved a rooster, and the other the letter A on a chalkboard. (We don’t wish to give away the punchlines, lest this staging—first done in 2009—gets another revival in fifteen more years.)
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The opera continued to defy our expectations, largely because the plot made sense. Nemorino—aka Nemo, at least in our hearts—loves Adina from afar. In that warm Italian light, she is as luscious as the billboard. 

But he cannot compete with Sergeant Belcore, who rolls into town with a whole army and declares he is, more or less, going to annex Adina.

Nemo, naturally, despairs. Even though he has access to a sexy red car, he’s just a grease monkey. He doesn’t have a uniform with medals—just one with his first name on it—and thus he has no chance.

Until! Doctor Dulcamara pulls up with his wares. He’s no snake-oil salesman; rather, he is a Bordeaux salesman, labeling cheap wine with expensive promises. Nemo buys up his love potion and promptly gets cocky enough to blow off Adina. She is so annoyed by this mechanic she brushed off earlier that she decides to marry the Sarge forever. That’ll show him, alright.

What a perfect time for intermission. We had a glass of bubbly—but no warm bread—with Richard. He loosened up enough to tell us about how he took a stagecraft course in college in the 1970s and spent a summer building sets at this very opera house.

This surprised us nearly as much as Elixir making sense did. The opera, we presumed, was meant for untouchables—individuals removed from the rest of us by their vocal ranges, by their stitchcraft, by their billboard-design aesthetics. Richard is a really great guy, but, like, one willing to have a beer with me. Without me even paying for it. The farthest thing from otherworldly.

Is… is it possible that the people behind the opera are just regular people who happen to be good at something considered highbrow? Could they be as human as the rest of us, more or less?

Perhaps it’s time we re-examine our beliefs about all things operatic.
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But not until this second act concludes, because this is when things get wild. Nemo comes into a million Italian bucks, but HE DOESN’T KNOW IT. He’s the only one who doesn’t know it, too—so naturally, being a man, he presumes all these women are now into him for his own potion-enhanced looks and charm. Except for Adina, somehow. He needs more potion, but since the only car in town is now repaired with working headlights and all, his only choice is to join Sarge’s army for a few lousy dollars.

Mayhem ensues. There’s a brawl on the sexy red car, and a priest rides in on a Vespa wearing leather (the priest, that is, not the Vespa). There’s singing and a door that opens in the billboard and we really don’t feel right spoiling the finale of a show first staged less than two hundred years ago, but we will note that everyone ends up happy except the ol’ Sarge, and even he’s not too bent out of shape. After all, the next town over has got to have more women who look as good as Adina does, in this light.

So. Based entirely on how heartily Richard laughed throughout this inadvertently comical melodrama, we say you cannot go wrong buying your dogsitter some summer-season opera tickets for the holidays. Or any kind of gift that supports the arts! We recommend it all. It might depend on your type of dog, or your type of Richard.
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If you live in the Southwest, we recommend the Santa Fe Opera. If you don’t, you can still buy tickets from the Santa Fe Opera. They won’t stop you.

An interview with Jaye Buros.

​By Jessica Rath

​One thing I particularly like about interviewing people is the fact that I learn so much about individuals I’ve known for a long time. Jaye Buros is a case in point; I first met her shortly after I moved to Abiquiú in 2000 and have run into her countless times thereafter. I knew she was a painter, that she was married to Bill Page, and that the two of them were running the Rising Moon Gallery for several years. But I had no idea that she was a TWA flight attendant for a while, or better: a stewardess, as they were called then.
 
“Then” – in the early 1970s, a cabin crew job was way more prestigious than it is now. Even so, while it was fun to see foreign countries, Jaye felt like she was “a glorified waitress”, she told me. After two years she had enough.

But let’s start at the beginning: Jaye grew up in a big house with a barn, like a farm,  on Long Island, together with her four sisters. Three of them were older, and one was younger; when I listened to Jaye talking about how she grew up, I was reminded of Little Women. There always  was a lot of work around the house, and the girls had to help, but it didn’t really feel like work because it was fun.
 
“We had a wonderful childhood”, Jaye told me. “It was a bit like the way  I live here:  every room is a work area. Everyone did everything. My Dad rebuilt the house,  and he built a garage. We girls laid the concrete and  made the driveway. He taught us how to fix the toilet, how to fix the sink, how to unclog a drain. We had a basement and an attic, and the house had two stories. It was full of treasures.”

Jaye’s father taught at Stuyvesant High School in New York City, a specialized school that offers tuition-free, advanced classes in math, science, and technology. Besides that, he was a potter – there was a potter’s wheel in the basement, and everybody could spend time there throwing pots, or doing mosaics, or any other craft around the kitchen table.

“Our house was like a kindergarten. I think  that’s why I ended up teaching kindergarten. It was like my house is now: different rooms are used for different things. It was a ‘working house’ ”. Jaye’s words painted a picture in my mind: an old, comfortably lived-in space with many rooms of various sizes, filled with a variety of different activities plus plenty of joy and laughter. A happy childhood.
​
Jaye elaborated: “We all had jobs, everyone had to do work. This sounds hard, but it was always fun. My parents always made it fun. For me work is always a kind of play. That's how I was raised. Mom would sew, do cross stitching, and make quilts and things like that. She loved to celebrate everything.  My Dad could do anything. If he didn't know how to do it, he'd figure it out”.

And then, out of the blue, it all came to an end:
​
“When we were 16 my Dad had a heart attack. They took us to my grandmother's house in Tucson and left us with my older sister Max who was 21. She continued to raise us.  It was hard; we didn't have a car and very little money. We had to go grocery shopping with one of those ‘old woman carts’ and do the laundry the same way. I was 16, my younger sister was 15 –  we were  embarrassed to be pulling that cart,  so we all went together, along  with the dog, Nea”.

That must have been quite the spectacle, I figured!

​Jaye went to Tucson High and then to Flagstaff for her undergraduate years.

“In those days, it was a great small college where you knew everyone. And I loved the snow! Ordinarily, we wouldn’t have been able to learn how to ski because of the expense. But they offered it as a class, for $55 a semester, to ski.  On weekends, we'd wake up at five in the morning, and I'd go up with my best friend and pack snow on my skis. They didn't have snow machines then. In the morning Iwould pack the snow off the lift, and you would be on your skis all day long. I'm sure that's how I got really strong muscles!”
​
“In the afternoon we could ski for free, amazing!”, Jaye continued.  “I majored in child education, and minored in art. After I graduated, I went to California with my best friend and I taught kindergarten in a Hispanic community. I had 33 children in the morning and 33 children in the afternoon, all speaking Spanish;  it was quite hard. I continued teaching kids and adults for 40 years!”

Over the next twenty-something years, Jaye lived first in Massachusetts, then in New Hampshire, got a Master’s Degree in Counseling Psychology at Antioch University New England, lived  at Mount Monadnock, hiked in the White Mountains, and went to Europe to do some painting and hiking with friends. She became a consultant, integrating her counseling career and working with teachers. In this capacity she traveled all over the United States, working with reading, writing, and creativity in the classroom. That’s how she met her future husband Bill Page, who was a former superintendent.

Eventually, they both ended up in northern New Mexico. They first came here on a camping trip to Truchas;  the landscape appealed to them,  and they decided to relocate here. A realtor helped Jaye to find her house; it had apricot trees which she loved, but also: she could tell that it was a safe place, because she could get up on the roof. 
​
“My Dad had taught me that you needed to be able to take care of everything. You don't want to go up on the roof  when it’s too steep. But the roof of this house was just right. The house was ugly –  it had little tiny windows and no French doors, and not much of a garden. But it was just right, and I dreamed of great possibilities”.

In 1996, 28 years ago, Jaye and Bill got married here in the garden.

“Bill made all my dreams come true! We added a studio and a greenhouse. Laurie Faye Bock, Ann Lumaghi, and other neighbors  came over and helped me clean everything up so that we could get married! We had the reception in the new studio. In the morning, Bill waxed all the floors in the house so they were shiny shiny. A caterer provided us with delicious food, we had picnic tables all over the place, Judith Shotwell and Tom Fortsen played music during the ceremony. Cipriano Vigil came and played his music for the reception”. 

Next, I wanted to learn about the Rising Moon Gallery.

“We knew Ton Haak and his wife Ans, we knew they were moving and they wanted someone to take their gallery  over”, Jaye explained.  “The trailer wasn't really in great shape, but we worked with Bernadette Gallegos, and we added an old school room, a portable one. And I thought, I've never done a gallery, but it would be fun to try. Bill agreed”.

She continued: “It was the best job of my life, because I'm just good at it. And I love people. I knew all the artists already (because I was living here all that time), and we had something  like 80 artists from Abiquiú and the surrounding area. We had two events every  month, with music and poetry readings, art events, and things like  dances and solo performances”.
​
“And we did that for seven years. It was very memorable to see our great community gather together”.

“I retired from working at the gallery when I was 70. After that, I became the teacher at the El Rito Library for their summer reading  program. Please support the libraries – they are a treasure for everyone! It is always amazing to work with children, but they take a ton of energy. I retired at 79”.

Jaye continued: “After I left the gallery, I focused on my own work. Currently, I’m trying to push my own painting. I’m a pleinaire painter, and sometimes a studio painter. I love being outdoors. As a child we went camping every summer, and I saw all the National Parks when no one else was there. We were the only campers! I feel very lucky. Our Dad made the camper, and we would plan the summer vacation in the kitchen. A map of the U.S. covered the wall, so we always saw where our adventure would be, our route for the summer. I think that’s why I love painting the land. When you paint outside on the spot you have to pay attention, paint fast and intuitively – to catch the light. It’s all about light and shadows!”

“Bill is a continual inspiration to me. His poetry, colors, and his view of life make my life a rich tapestry.  I’m a very lucky woman! Our life together has been a rich adventure, and it still is. Two years ago he published a book of his wonderful flowers and poems, one to go with the other”.
“The people here are a part of our extended family and I feel lucky to know you”.

“I am having an Opening in a group show at the Karen Wray Gallery in Los Alamos on December 5 from 4 - 5. Please come and help me celebrate!”

Jaye had prepared a delicious lunch for me, and after we finished eating, she gave me a tour of the house and the property. Each room had a particular function: a space where one could read and rest, a sewing room, a big studio for lots of different artistic activities, and a kitchen, of course. The house looked like a treasure chest, filled with sculptures, paintings, and antiques. Outside we visited a zen garden, an enclosure for two watchful geese, and a few other buildings that served a variety of functions: a guest house, a small studio, a storage for artwork. I had the impression that every part of the property was a piece of art in its own right, a fitting expression of and metaphor for Jaye’s life. Maybe “mosaic” is the better word: lots of individual pieces all harmoniously  joined together to form one image. Thank you, Jaye, for sharing your beautiful life with me.

The moving traditions of the season.
By Zach Hively

Thanksgiving is the one pure North American holiday, free of politics of commercialism of historical accuracy. Most people like to celebrate the warm-and-fuzzy animal sacrifice side of Thanksgiving. And that’s fine; America is nothing if not a nation of moderation, so we should be allowed one single meal of overindulgence each year.

But what many don’t realize is that Thanksgiving was not founded on comfort food, closed retail stores, and the Detroit Lions losing. For starters, the Lions got good, apparently?
​
But also, the holiday’s roots are much more sinister than a kindergarten play would have you believe. If Thanksgiving: The Origins were a Netflix original series, it would be shot entirely in black, there would be lots of Meaningful Expressions, all your favorite characters would die, and you would be thankful that there was no Season Two.

The historical time we romanticize as the First Thanksgiving was but one instance of the most dreaded circumstance known to mankind, not counting impending genocide, which was also a factor. These gritty, dramatic, white pilgrims had packed up their worldly belongings and relocated to a strange new land. When they arrived, they had no food to eat, nor plates to eat food from, because everything they owned was still packed in moving boxes.

This predicament was not the pilgrims’ choice. No one chooses to move gladly. The original Thanksgiving pilgrims probably liked England a lot; they liked it so much, in fact, that they kept naming American places after English ones, like Norwich and Worcheseshestersheshire. But they had to move because the English wanted to get rid of all their stodgiest religious types.

I am likewise a modern-day pilgrim.

I have, more than once in my day, been persecuted out of my home by landlords who were selling their houses so they—and this is the problem with capitalism—could move closer to their grandchildren.

This typically left me searching for a new home where I would be willing to bathe without wearing shower shoes. It also left me packing all my worldly possessions, which if you don’t think about it too much is a lot like sailing across the Atlantic Ocean in a wooden vessel, only without the luxury views. 

It’s been five years since my last move, and I still have most of my belongings packed away. For this half a decade, I’ve remained too exhausted from thinking about moving to dig through boxes for my Thanksgiving cookware, or a spoon for cereal.
​
Not coincidentally, I am commemorating Thanksgiving in my house in the truest spirit of the festival: by eating peanut butter sandwiches on a table made of cardboard.

This sort of predicament is exactly what the pilgrims faced. Left alone, they would have starved before they figured out which box held their Crock-Pot. Heck, they didn’t even know for sure where they’d packed their full-length pantaloons or the buckles for their tennis shoes. 

You can often tell that one is moving just by examining one’s clothing. The functional wardrobe of a typical human being is repurposed during a move: socks pad fragile chachkies, coffee mugs are mummy-wrapped in underwear, and dress pants function nicely as furniture blankets. So one wears whatever combination of dish towels and house slippers one can successfully locate until the boxes are unpacked or one moves again, whichever happens first. In fact, little-known historical tidbit: the pilgrims strapped belts to their hats because they could not find where they packed all their elastic hat bands.

Fortunately for most of us, our moving-era outfits are not immortalized in elementary school historical recreations. But wardrobe oddities are not even the most challenging part of moving. There’s also that long, slow realization of how much extraneous stuff you have in your possession. That is not the most challenging part, either, but it’s the part I want to talk about.

I went into my last round of moving with the mindset that I would pare down all unnecessary belongings and live a simpler life for it. But then packing up the old place took longer than the three hours I had budgeted for it, so I ended up stuffing everything in Costco boxes, canvas bags, suitcases, shopping carts, the glovebox in the car, and my pockets. I can hardly imagine how the Mayflower looked with miscellaneous coat hangers poking out of every hold.

Now I’d like you to ponder the stereotypical, traditional, modern Thanksgiving for just a moment. Imagine the dining room. Do you envision even a single box with Sharpie scrawl graffitied on the side? 

No—because the true spirit of Thanksgiving is being grateful that, wherever you are, you are not moving. So please, when you give thanks around the table, remember those of us less fortunate. And if you feel compelled by white guilt to lend a hand, please find someone more deserving of help than I am.

***

This Thanksgiving, I’d like to say out loud (in writing) how grateful I am for you all, my readers.
I do this for me. But I also wouldn’t do this at all, without deadlines. And my obligation to make sure you remember who I am keeps me on deadline.

But more than that, knowing you all are out there reading, sometimes even enjoying & laughing at & sharing what I do--that’s what keeps me going.
So. Thank you. With all I’ve got—thank you.
Share Zach Hively and Other Mishaps
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YOUTH RODEO NEWS

Nine of Northern New Mexico’s finest youth rodeo competitors will be competing in the upcoming 2024 Vegas Tuffest Jr. World Championship to be held at THE EXPO at the World Market Center in downtown Las Vegas Nevada.  This year’s event will see more than 1,300 entries with competitors coming from across the United States and Canada, for the event spanning Dec. 3-10.

There were roughly 50 qualifying rodeos/events across the United States and Canada to give the rodeo youth an equal chance to make it to Las Vegas and the opportunity to win their share of $1.5 million+ in cash and prizes. The championship event offers barrel racing, goat tying, double mugging, breakaway roping, tie-down roping and team roping. Each Vegas Tuffest Jr. World Champion will take home between $5,000 and $30,000 in cash, which is one of the highest stakes payout for youth rodeo athletes.

Local competitors are:
·       Elise Martinez, a 7th grader at Chama Middle School that lives in Chama, NM; competing in the 12u boys & girls goat tying.
·       Keelin Faulkner, a senior at Escalante High School that lives in Los Ojos, NM; competing in the 19u girls breakaway roping.
·       Waylan Valdez, a 7th grader at Pojoaque Middle School that lives in Medanales, NM; competing in the 15u team roping (heeler).
·       Aleyana Baca, a sophormore at Los Alamos High School that lives in Espanola, NM; competing in the 15u girls goat tying.  Aleyana was selected to be on the sponsor Team Re-Vita Equine.
·       Paige Trujillo, a 7th grader at Los Alamos Middle School that lives in Abiquiu, NM; competing in the 12u boys & girls goat tying. Paige was selected to be on the sponsor Team Re-Vita Equine.
·       Reed Trujillo, a Freshman at Los Alamos High School that lives in Abiquiu, NM; competing in the 15u team roping (header). Reed was selected to be on the sponsor Team Wrangler.
·       Stetson Trujillo, a Junior at Los Alamos High School that lives in Abiquiu, NM; competing in the 15u team roping (heeler) and 15u boys tie-down roping.  Stetson was selected to be on the sponsor Team Spalding Laboratories.
·       Teagan Trujillo, a Freshman at Los Alamos High School that lives in Abiquiu, NM; competing in the 15u girls goat tying.
·       Wacey Trujillo, a Junior at Los Alamos High School that lives in Abiquiu, NM; competing in the 15u and 19u girls goat tying and 15u girls breakaway roping.

Paige, Teagan and Wacey are also competing in the girls goat tying “Team Match” competition with three other NM High School/Junior High School teammates as Team Boujee Bandits. The team match is a tournament style goat tying competition that will be held on Dec. 3 where two girls from each age group (12u, 15u and 19u) compete against other regional teams for a chance to win their share of an additional $30,000.
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The world championship event is free to attend, starting each morning at 8:15 a.m. at The Expo World Market Center Las Vegas located at 435 South Grand Central Parkway in Las Vegas, NV. The event will also be live webcasted, details can be online.

Good luck to these local rodeo athletes representing the area in Las Vegas on a mighty stage in December!

By Austin Fisher
​Source NM

By Hilda Joy
​
One of the best things about our traditional American Thanksgiving dinner is the choice of leftovers and the creative uses to which such leftovers can be put.  Thanksgiving evening, shortly after we think, “I can’t eat another thing,” we may find ourselves heading to the kitchen and opening the fridge to see what would make a quick snack.  For me, that is usually a leftover biscuit split in half, dabbed with mayo, and filled with a small piece of cold turkey and topped with a spoonful of cranberry sauce.
 
My favorite leftover, however, is Turkey Carcass Soup.  Making it also clears out the fridge a bit.  Though not as rich as a traditional bone broth because the turkey bones have given up most of their goodness during the roasting process, this soup is satisfying because of the addition of fresh vegetables, frozen corn, and wild rice.  It became even more filling the year I decided to make croutons from leftover stuffing.
 
The morning after Thanksgiving, while the Turkey Carcass Soup was simmering gently on the stove, perfuming the whole house, and working up appetites for lunch, I was rearranging the fridge.  “What can I do with all this leftover stuffing?” I wondered.  I transferred it to a large rectangular baking dish and baked it until crisp and cut it into small squares for topping the soup.  Ever since, these croutons have been part of this soup recipe, which I hope you will try this Thanksgiving.

A New Mexico friend—when she lived on a small farm in Michigan—threw a star-gazing party most every August during the Persied Meteor Showers.  Friends from several states would arrive in campers and trucks loaded with food.  One year, three turkeys were brought—my smoked turkey, a roasted turkey, and one made on site on a Weber grill.  After a long, sumptuous outdoor feast and lots of oohs and aahs as we watched the meteors, several women gathered in the farm-house kitchen and began stripping the turkey carcasses of meat, and all during the night a large stock pot simmered with turkey bones and meat and lots of vegetables.  The first person to waken was expected to enter the kitchen and turn on the huge coffee pot already filled with water and coffee.  As I crawled out of my pup tent, I realized I was the only person there to see the sun rise.  Walking up the steps to the kitchen, I was overwhelmed with the smell of turkey carcass soup.  Sometimes I think I can still smell it.  Yes, I know I can!

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Experience the magic of theater and the power of community at this free performance in Española

​Española, NM — This December, New Mexico School for the Arts-Art Institute (NMSA-Art Institute) is partnering with Northern New Mexico College (NNMC) to bring the Española community a spellbinding theatrical experience. Join us for “Puffs, or Seven Increasingly Eventful Years at a Certain School of Magic & Magic,” a heartwarming and hilarious story about courage, friendship and finding your own kind of magic—even if you feel like a side character.
 
At 3 p.m. Saturday, December 7, 2024, the talented students of the NMSA-Art Institute Theatre Department will take the stage at the Nick Salazar Center for the Arts for a free performance of PUFFS. This is more than just a play; it’s an invitation to celebrate the creativity, talent and to learn more about the unique opportunities offered by NMSA-Art Institute and NNMC.

PUFFS is a fresh take on the magical school genre, following a group of loyal and quirky misfits who prove that bravery comes in many forms—whether it’s surviving potions class or supporting friends in the face of danger. Forget the chosen one; this story is about the rest of us, and it’s filled with laughter, surprises and heartfelt moments.
 
Director and NMSA-Art Institute Instructor Garrick Sigl shares, “Directing PUFFS for me, as a certified nerd, was a joyful exploration of humor, heart and the underdog's perspective. It was great fun bringing together this high energy ensemble to celebrate the overlooked stories that resonate deeply in a world where each student seeks belonging. It’s an important tale for today, reminding us to embrace individuality, find strength in community and honor the bravery in simply showing up.”
We’re calling on families, friends and community members to join us in supporting these talented students and discover the vibrant programs offered at NMSA-Art Institute and NNMC. Experience the magic firsthand and see why the arts are essential to fostering creativity and connection.

This free performance is made possible through a collaboration between NMSA-Art Institute and NNMC, two established New Mexico institutions dedicated to empowering students and strengthening community connections. The event underscores the transformative power of arts education and the vital role that public partnerships play in creating opportunities for New Mexicans.
Puffs (Two Act for Young Wizards) is presented by arrangement with Concord Theatricals on behalf of Samuel French, Inc.
 
Event Details:
When: December 7th, 2024, at 3:00 pm
Where: Nick Salazar Center for the Arts, 921 N. Paseo de Oñate, Española, NM
Admission: Free! Reserve your seat online at https://tinyurl.com/4wedektz

About New Mexico School for the Arts (NMSA) and New Mexico School for the Arts - Art Institute (NMSA - Art Institute) Founded in 2010 and based in Santa Fe, New Mexico School for the Arts (NMSA) is the state’s only four-year, statewide-enrolling, tuition-free public high school, offering young artists a unique dual-curriculum program. NMSA integrates a college-preparatory academic education with intensive pre-professional arts training. While NMSA’s academic programming is funded by New Mexico public school dollars, its arts training and statewide community engagement programs are overseen and funded by NMSA – Art Institute, a nonprofit organization that relies on the generosity of individual and institutional donors. For more information, visit nmschoolforthearts.org
 
About Northern New Mexico College (NNMC) Northern New Mexico College has served the rural communities of Northern New Mexico for over a century. Since opening in 1909 as the Spanish American Normal School in El Rito, NM, the College has provided affordable access to quality academic programs that meet the changing educational, economic and cultural needs of the region.
Northern is an open-admissions institution offering the most affordable bachelor’s programs in the Southwest. Now one of the state’s four regional comprehensive institutions, with its main campus in Española, Northern offers more than 50 bachelor’s, associate, and certificate programs in arts & human sciences, film & digital media, STEM programs, business, education, liberal arts, and nursing. The College has reintroduced technical trades in partnership with two local unions and five public school districts through its new co-located Branch Community College, the first of its kind in the state’s history.  Northern is accredited by the Higher Learning Commission (HLC) and has earned prestigious program specific accreditations for its engineering, nursing, education, and business programs. Learn more at nnmc.edu
 
Press Contacts:

Sarah Pfisterer, NMSA-Art Institute, Artistic Director
sarah.pfisterer@nmsa-ai.org
505.216.7888 x403
 
Cindy Montoya, NMSA-Art Institute, President
cindy.montoya@nmsa-ai.org
505.216.7888 x 410
 
Johanna Case-Hofmeister, NNMC Director of Integrated Studies: Arts
johanna.case@nnmc.edu
505-747-5419

Food Depot,
​DocuFilms Earns Top Honor for Branded Content Long Form

Santa Fe, NM — The Rocky Mountain Southwest Chapter of the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences (NATAS) has awarded DocuFilms the Emmy® for Branded Content Long Form for their short film “Movement.” This powerful film, which highlights the impactful work of The Food Depot—Northern New Mexico’s food bank—received the honor during the 47th Annual Rocky Mountain Emmy Awards on November 16, 2024, at Chateau Luxe Event Venue in Phoenix, Arizona.

“Movement” invites viewers into the dynamic world of food banking. The Food Depot distributes an average of 10 million pounds of groceries each year through a network of hunger-relief programs and nonprofit partner organizations. The film captures The Food Depot’s food distributions and collaborations between key partners, including Market Street grocery store, Bernal Community Center, and Reunity Resources community farm. Ultimately, viewers are challenged to confront poverty and advocate for systemic change.

"I’m thrilled that DocuFilms chose to emphasize The Food Depot’s movement," says Jill Dixon, Executive Director of The Food Depot. "The film beautifully highlights our programs and hunger-relief partners. This Emmy® is a well-earned recognition for the team who told our story."

DocuFilms founders Michael Campbell and Paul McKittrick began collaborating with The Food Depot in the summer of 2023. In August, their filmmaking team spent a week immersed in day-to-day operations to create the now Emmy® Award-winning film. “Movement” premiered in February 2024 at Violet Crown Cinema in Santa Fe.

“The Food Depot’s story is one the world should hear,” says “Movement” producer Michael Campbell. “The Emmy® recognition validates the importance of this critical organization’s work. I hope the film inspires even more people to join The Food Depot’s mission to end food insecurity.”

The Rocky Mountain Southwest Chapter of the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences (NATAS) is dedicated to excellence in television by honoring exceptional work through the prestigious Emmy® Award. The chapter serves Arizona, New Mexico, Utah and Southeastern California.

The Food Depot invites you to watch and share “Movement.” The film is available online at thefooddepot.org/movement. To inquire about a screening or arrange for a staff member to speak at an event with the film, email media@thefooddepot.org or call (505) 510-5539.
To learn more about The Food Depot’s mission or contribute as a donor or volunteer, visit thefooddepot.org.

Commentary
By Lauren Lifke
Source NM

Hispanic, Latino, Chicano, Mexican American, Hispano, Nuevomexicano — what are we?If you’ve spent time in New Mexico, chances are you’ve met somebody with a Spanish last name who doesn’t speak a lick of the language. If you ask about their background, they might just say they’re Hispanic without mentioning a connection to any specific Spanish-speaking region.

I’ve been one of these people. Growing up in Albuquerque, I never felt the need to elaborate any further than “Hispanic” when describing the ethnicity of my mom’s side of the family, and it wasn’t often that people inquired any further.

I first felt challenged about my identity when I was 18 and filling out a college application. I expected my usual routine of checking “white” for race and “Hispanic/Latino” for ethnicity. But this application required me to input my specific background. The options were Cuban, Mexican/Chicano, Puerto Rican, Latin American and “other.”

I had to text my mom to figure out which box to check.

“Of Spanish origin. I.e. from Spain,” she wrote.

I could’ve sworn this wasn’t quite the case. After a quick and confusing phone call with her, I checked the boxes for “other” and “Mexican/Chicano,” not entirely understanding what that meant for us.

It wasn’t until I left the state that I learned this widespread misunderstanding and disconnect from our Hispanic roots is a pretty uniquely New Mexican experience.

For my freshman year of college, I went to a predominately white institution on the east coast. I do benefit from white privilege — I inherited my Anglo dad’s German last name and many of his physical features — and never experienced the racism that Hispanic and Latino communities often face.

Living outside of New Mexico, I found myself having to explain my identity more often. This prompted me to do my own research on New Mexican history and my ancestry.

To sum up a complicated history: Spanish colonization included the areas that are now known as Mexico and New Mexico. There, Spaniards mixed with Indigenous populations. Their mixed-race descendants — and the “stereotypical” image of what constitutes a Hispanic or Latino person — were known as mestizos, according to the “Journal of Linguistic Geography.”

Part of this area became known as Mexico, which then included present-day New Mexico. The mestizo populations that lived in now-New Mexico were Mexican. When the United States took possession of New Mexico in the 1800s, its residents were given the choice of moving further south to Mexico or staying where they were, according to the University of Houston.

My ancestors stayed in their town just south of Albuquerque called Belén, where I spent a lot of time growing up. Those who stayed were pressured to conform to white and non-Hispanic — or Anglo — society. They started associating more with their European side and identifying strictly as Spaniards.

Still though, their language was looked down upon, and they stopped teaching their kids Spanish because they could be punished for speaking it.

My grandma is the last person left in my immediate family who fluently speaks Spanish.
I now understand why my mom identifies as a Spaniard. The term “Hispanic” encapsulates all Spanish-speaking populations, including Spain. I started to feel more comfortable identifying as “Latina” — a term that encapsulates people from all of Latin America but not Spain. I still felt a disconnect, however, especially because I don’t speak Spanish.

A few months after doing my research, an Anglo peer called me “Miss Latina with no f--ing evidence.”

It isn’t my fault that my grandparents didn’t pass down the language to my mother, or that they even felt the need to let the language and identity die with them in the first place. They were forced to assimilate and drop all “evidence” of their Latinidad, and now I was experiencing the effects.

I educated my peer and continued to do more research. I found that “Chicano” is a term for people of Mexican descent born in the United States. People from New Mexico who identified as Hispanic — or sometimes Hispano or Nuevomexicano — played a big role in the Chicano movement in the 1960s, according to History.

I now find that “Chicana” best encapsulates my identity, while many of my family members continue to identify as just Hispanic.

A few months ago, though, I spoke with my uncle. He told me his biggest regret in life is never learning Spanish fluently because of assimilation.

This was the first time in my adult life that I’ve felt connected to my own identity through a family member who cares about preserving our culture and understanding our history. He told me something that I’d never heard a family member say out loud, which gave me hope about the validation and preservation of our identity.
​
“You’re Mexican American,” he said. “Don’t forget that.”