I first met 12-year-old David Rivera, when his family moved to Garcia, CO, then later to his beloved northern New Mexico. He and I sometimes hung out with the same crowd enjoying innocent fun.

If you truly knew David, you knew two things, 1) he had a big heart and 2) he was the biggest scaredy cat ever. He feared the darkness, scary movies, and things that go bump in the night. I recall we faked out a group of friends as we walked home one Saturday evening. I said I had seen horrible witch-like shadows in the old adobe homes and he confirmed it, just so the rest of the group waited for us in that pitch-dark evening so many years ago. Thanks to David, next day, that made-up story was soon all over the town of Costilla because David told it with such fear, conviction and drama, and with much exaggeration to anyone who would listen. Because of this, some people avoided that stretch of road for many months.

This 6-foot plus young man was liked by many, and was a teenager when his brother Henry and I married. David was a happy go lucky kind of guy whose large stat- ure matched his big heart. I will remember many innocent happy times we both experienced in those northern New Mexico days and nights of our youth. I remember his friendship with the Quintana brothers, longtime friend ‘Goober’ (real name Donald) and the late Anthony Archuleta and Dennis Torres.

David joined the U.S. Army after high school and served his time in Germany. When he returned he seemed a bit more serious, more grounded, but still a big scaredy cat. Later, he shared with my mother at the town post office, that he was getting married and that his mother Maria would be gaining a ‘yierna.’ This needs a bit of explanation since the Rivera boys and their sister Carla were not proficient in Spanish. They had been raised in or near Grand Junction and Silverton, CO and Bishop and Stockton, CA where Spanish was barely spoken. Because of this upbringing the Rivera boys learned much Spanglish along the way and often made big-time blunders, in public and at the dinner table. David thought he could convert the son-in-law, Spanish translation yierno to a female version yierna. It was a trait all so endearing and charming about most of the Rivera brothers.

David married Sarah and together they had three girls, Shawna, Alicia and Katrina. The girls adored their dad and cultivated a special relationship with him through thick and thin.

As life dictated the good and the bad, David and Sarah parted ways years later and David lived with his daughters off and on, or alone, and remained friends with Sarah. A few years ago they lost their daughter, Alicia, and David was never the same again. His health faltered further and he rarely visited family.

David was different yet the same as his brothers. Although siblings grow up together, everyone in life has a different personality in spite of the same upbringing. There is many a story told by the Rivera brothers where David was the subject of a prank. There are two that come to mind, where two brothers, who will remain nameless, tied both David and sister Carla in the fruit cellar, back-to-back, sitting on chairs, western movie style. They shut the door and as darkness prevailed, sister Carla tried to calm David. He was in fear of the darkness and promised to serve unspeakable revenge on his two older brothers, who again shall remain nameless. The parents arrived at home and Carla and David were freed. I’m pretty sure David for- got his plot of revenge and loved his brothers anyway, until the next prank.

Another incident involved a gathering of brothers, including another brother, Raymond, who lived in California, but was home for a visit. David was the youngest during this incident and apparently the rest were get- ting annoyed because he wanted to hang out with them. Maria, their mother, forced them to include David. They did, he later undressed and fell asleep on a cot in their room and they picked up the cot and took it outside to the front yard, where he slept the whole night into the morning as neighbors and passerby’s looked on.

Clearly, David was the victim of many a prank by his brothers. While I don’t know the exact details, or all the brothers responsible for those pranks, I do know that they all loved him for his carefree nature and his big heart. Much like his father, ‘Cove’, David loved his family, farm life, Costilla and Amalia. David loved the mountains, the outdoors, horses, reading, poaching, cowboy hats, Levis, leather vests, junk food, hunting, beef jerky, guns, elk meat, fishing and his prankster brothers and sisters.

David died of COVID-19 last week and will be buried in the family cemetery in Costilla, New Mexico. David, may your eternal life reunite you with those you love. Your earthly family, Shawna, Katrina, your grandchildren, your siblings Louise, Patrick, Mashalle, Robert, Steve, Henry, Raymond, Ted, Carla and the rest of us will never forget you. Services pending.

The recent passing of Charlie Watts, drummer for the Rolling Stones touched my heart, triggered memories of my youth and reminded me of something called the British Invasion of the 60’s Since the age of 13 I have loved, enjoyed, and followed the Rolling Stones. Since the first time I saw them on TV, I have been a fan. I have been to many of their concerts, and hope to see them (sadly without Charlie Watts) later this year. Neither band member had rock star good looks. They were even downright homely, but their sound stole my heart at age 13 and they will always be my favorite band. There is only one Mick Jagger and there is only one Honky Tonk Women and Satisfaction.

In the then vacant S.P.M.D.T.U. (Sociedad Proteccion Mutua de Trabajadores Unidos) building the local youth planned ‘record hops.’ We collectively brought our 45s of the 60s played them on a record player and danced from 7-10pm on any given Saturday night. A time of innocence. The music ranged from the latest Beatles hits like ‘She was just 17’ to the Stones’ ‘Satisfaction’ and the Beach Boys Surfin’ USA.’

The nearly irreplaceable and unmatched sound of the 60’s lit a fire in our hearts. Ironically, the unique- ness of a bilingual community of teenagers also listened to the New Mexico sound of Al Hurricane’s ‘Sentimento along with Tiny Morrie’s Lonely Letters and Little Joe y la Familia.

To add to that musical history was the history of the organization that owned the S.P.M.D.T.U. building. If you are Hispanic, the S.P.M.D.T.U should summon historic pride and more than likely ring a bell and trigger childhood memories. This 1900 Hispanic organization is the oldest Hispanic organization, now 121 years old and a chapter still exists in Denver.

Formed in 1900 in Antonito, CO and founded by Celedonio Mondragon, expanded and made their way into most Southern Colorado and Northern Mexico towns. Its purpose was to provide monetary help for widows of mem- bers, a type of life insurance. In those early days, major insurance companies discriminated against Hispanics and insurance coverage was nearly impossible to pur- chase let alone afford.

Who would have thought that the oldest Hispanic organization in the U.S. coupled with the British invasion made immeasurable memories for teenagers in northern New Mexico.

Where else but in the heart of northern New Mexico can the Stones, the Beatles, Al Hurricane and the S.P.M.D.T.U. conjure up memories after all these years.