On our last full day in Denver we went shopping in the morning and ate lunch. After lunch Dora and Sam stayed at home and Carlos had a dinner date with friends. So Roje, Elfida and I went to the Greeley area to visit some of the places we use to go to when we worked in the fields some 40 years ago. It was a nice mellow trip filled with great conversation.Along the way we passed some areas that were still very vivid in my mind and some that I had totally forgotten. Roje's recollection was better than mine and helped bring back memories of these long forgotten places.
We drove to downtown Greeley and found the park where our parents use to take us every Sunday. There were many changes made through the so many years that have passed. We found the old store where we would go buy sodas and candy while at the park. It was located about half a block away, I don't remember that name of the store but we use to call it "La tienda de los chicanos". It translates to "the chicano's store". It was one of the few businesses that were owned by Mexicans or as my parents called them "chicanos" to differentiate them as being U.S. born. They spoke Spanish and sold many of the products that we were use to buying in Texas.
The park is still here but it has changed too. We drove around remembering where the playground use to be, where our parents would congregate with the other parents, and where the older teenagers would hangout. It is still a beautiful park. Our families would work in the fields all week long, Monday through Saturday, but on Sundays we would meet at the park. We played with the other kids, many who's names I couldn't recall and had to ask Roje. I would start with a description of them or retelling of an event that occurred at the park and Roje would start naming the kids, their siblings and parents. Our parents would meet and exchange information about working conditions, areas that were needing field laborers and most important information about the farmers. Which farmer treated the workers fair, which ones paid well and which ones were willing to take advantage of the workers.On this day thunder storms had visited the area ahead of us. There were still some rain puddles on the streets and a nice chill in the air. Perfect weather for walking the downtown area.
When we drove by this building, I immediately recognized it. This is where they use to have the Mexican dances. On Saturday night you would find most of the young migrant workers here. I was too young to be interested in dances, but I do remember going inside once during a wedding. I remember they had a band that played nothing but polkas and no singer. Every song sounded just like the one before. Not much has changed for this old building except maybe its use on Saturday nights.
Roje's memory was so sharp that he was able to guide me to this old house. We lived here for a few seasons in the late 60's and early 70's. This was Henry's farm. The house had two bedrooms and a kitchen. My dad build an enclosure behind the house which we used as a shower area. The outhouse was located about 100 feet behind the house. That old wood fence next to the house use to be part of a huge corral where they kept about 100 cattle. Everything smelled like cow dung. We use to go to town on Sunday nights and my mom would do laundry there because you couldn't hang anything outside because by morning everything would smell like the corral. The farmer lived across the driveway from us and they were use to the smell.
When we got to this farm house we parked across the drive way right were the farmer use to live. That house is now gone. The older two-story house is still there, it is located about 200 feet farther into the property. The lady that now lives there was on her way to church, I went to her and asked her if she would allow me to photograph the house. Roje came up too and we told her how we use to live here many years ago. She was very friendly and talked to us for about 20 minutes. She ended up leaving late for church. We walked around the house, it looked so small.
We drove back to Greeley and decided to find a place to eat dinner. It was late already and it was now a little colder than just chilly. We ate at the Rio Grande Cafe. The food was excellent and the waitress extremely friendly. They also had great coffee or maybe it was the cold weather in the middle of summer, something we, who live in central Texas, are no longer use to.
Dinner was great and the restaurant was nice and quiet and lent itself well to us carrying a long conversation. Before we knew it we had been there about two hours, it was getting dark and the weather was looking more menacing. This photo is of the sugar processing plant in Eaton, Colorado. This was our mediator in any disputes between the farmers and the migrant workers. I remember it as being way bigger than this. It is closed now and abandoned. The processing is now done somewhere else.
We stared back to Denver. It was almost dark. We were still deep in conversation about the years long ago when we were kids. About the times spent chasing rabbits through the alfalfa fields, chasing mice in the silos, or riding down the dusty farm road in Roje's motorcycle. The old McDonald's is still there. That was our Saturday lunch stop. Oh we loved going there, I don't know if my parents thought the food was as great as we did, but they took us there because we liked those little burgers and over salted fries so much.
As we neared the Greeley city limits I thought I could here a whining sound. At first I thought it was my mp3 player and lowered the volume on it, but the sound was coming from outside. To our surprise, it was the severe weather warning sirens going off! The sky ahead of us was cloudy but not threatening and I could only see a small part of the sky behind us through the side mirrors on the truck. That sky was black, long gnarly bright bolts of lightning would surge from the clouds and strike the ground. Memories came back of the times we would scramble to the huge potato cellars, when the radio would announce that a tornado was seen somewhere near. The storms stayed over Greeley, it took about 15 minutes to out run them, but we made it back to Denver well past ten at night. The time had come to start packing. We were hoping to leave at five or six in the morning. Ahead laid a 14 hour drive back home.
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