An official USGenWeb Project site Dedicated to Free Information for Home Family Genealogy use only.
Excerpts from Abe Peña's  popular publications

All material used with the kind permission of the author, given to me personally.

from CHANGE COMES TO THE VILLAGES

"Como Mas Antes--Like Long Ago

I overheard Salvador Mares telling Benny the barber, “No es como mas antes—It isn't like it was long ago,” as I was entering Benny Chávez's barber shop in San Rafael.

Salvador was reminiscing about something that happened a long time ago, and added convincingly that it was not the same today. It seems to me that, as we get older, we are more and more apt to compare the present with the past. Also, it seems that, among friends and others, I am hearing, more and more, “No es como antes.” The past, mixed with nostalgia, usually comes out looking better than the present when you compare the two periods.

However, I want to make it clear that I, and most of my family, do not want to return to the past, except in our minds. The conveniences and personal comforts of today were not, I repeat were not, the case “mas antes.” There were no thermostats, no natural gas, no electricity, no running water, no telephones, no television, and no microwaves in our homes, and the list goes on and on and on.

We must recognize that the progress of our country and its strong economy gives everyone who is willing to work the opportunity to attain those comforts. That is not the case in other parts of the world. I have had the privilege of working in four developing countries and studied in a fifth, and, in most cases, those comforts are not available or affordable to most people, only to the very wealthy.

In our youth in San Mateo years ago, mas antes, we swam in our birthday suits en el tanque de abajo, one of two reservoirs in the village. We were forbidden to swim en el tanque de arriba, because the village got its drinking water from the acequia--ditch--that ran from one reservoir to the other through the village. There were no homes below el tanque de abajo, so it was all right to swim there.

However, there were three or four homes nearby, but we generally undressed behind the chaparros and made a run for it, always keeping an eye on our clothes. There were pranksters who sometimes hid our clothes, and it was embarrassing to go home naked. No one in the village had a bathing suit.

We also, on hot days on the way home from the fields, rode the canovas--aqueducts made of metal--that crossed the arroyo in two places. Again, it was forbidden to ride the aqueducts, but the approaches to them were covered by clumps of willows. They offered good cover to undress and jump in the canova. We'd sit and let the water push us across, then walk back and repeat the process. It was fun.

One problem was the joints of galvanized metal. They were tarred, and tough on our behinds. We quickly learned to lift up a bit every time we came to a joint, to save our bottoms! The mayordomo--water boss--was always on the lookout for riders of the canovas, so we posted a lookout to give the alarm.

In those days, Raymundo Barela was the mayordomo. He was about six feet tall, and lanky. He always wore a pair of long rubber boots, which kept his feet dry when he was diverting water from the main ditch to thirsty fields nearby. He always carried a long-handled shovel on his shoulder.

Sometimes when he spotted us sliding in the canovas or swimming en el tanque de arriba, he'd take off after us, but his boots slowed him down and he couldn't catch us. We were pretty fast mas antes. At age 80, I'm happy we were raised in a village... especially the village of San Mateo."