A fast and Fabuloso look at growing up in New Mexico

Editor’s note: Today the Journal kicks off a new column, featuring comedian Zach Abeyta, as he looks at life in New Mexico through a humorous lens.

Hey fellow New Mexicans, Burqueños, and those in the 5-oh-5. My name is Zach Abeyta and I was born in 1989 in Santa Fe during the fall, when New Mexico is at its most enchanted. When Zozobra, Balloon Fiesta and the smell of green chile roasting all take place. I was lucky to grow up with amazing parents who did their best raising me despite not being together. I had the best grandfather someone could ask for, and I am still lucky to have both my grandmothers alive today.

Growing up, my parents and grandparents skipped my generation in teaching me Spanish. Only so they could gossip the things you would usually say behind someone’s back, but right in front of me instead. I remember being lost on Christmas morning during the family get together. My head swiveling back and forth from my dad to my grandma, who were speaking quickly and loudly in a language I didn’t know, but I definitely recognized the tone they were using. A quick conversation between them as their eyes darted at me, then back at each other. Saying bad words in Spanish that I wouldn’t understand till years later.

Me asking my father, “What did grandma say? Did she call me a good boy?”

It definitely did not mean good boy.

My grandma grew up and lived her whole life in Santa Fe, not too far from the Plaza. She stands only 4 feet, 11 inches, but she is the boss of the family, the strongest of matriarchs. She would stand flipping tortillas with just her fingers over the comal. A burnt tortilla, or finger, never happened in that kitchen. She would sing songs as she cooked. I don’t recall if it was the movie or song on, but she would love to sing “La Bamba.” Her apron swung side to side as she sang, “Para bailar la bamba.”

I didn’t understand the words, but I wanted to connect with her, so I just made up my own lyrics, “Put a burrito in my pansa!” I didn’t know Spanish, but knew that I wanted a smothered Christmas burrito.

As a child, I remember her standing on the porch. Rollers in the hair, smoking cigarettes outside during blizzards. Pall Mall: I still recall the brand. That red pack sitting on the table next to her mini poker video game that she would sit and play.

She drove an ’87 Monte Carlo Super Sport with the T-top windows. I remember her taking me along to clean businesses in Santa Fe in her hot rod, a quick stop at Long John Silvers on the way. She would get the fish; I would get the chicken strips, always. I remember her reaching in her purse and pulling out the tiniest bottle of Tabasco sauce imaginable. She always kept that thing on her. Then we would head off so she could clean up the streets of Santa Fe ... literally. She would have to sit on a couple books to make it to there, but she made it work … fast and Fabuloso, that’s my Grandma Angie.