"He [my husband] never went overseas. I was in Albuquerque [when Pearl Harbor was bombed]. It was a Sunday, so we were in church. Everybody was talking about it. It had already happened quite early. I don’t remember knowing before coming into church. I think I learned it in church. [My husband] enlisted in January of forty-two. [He went to training at] Fort Bliss, everybody went to Fort Bliss. When he left was the time that things changed for me, otherwise we had a quite normal life day to day. He would still go to work like any normal job and come back at night, but when he got orders to report to Colorado. Then it struck me that he was gone. He wasn’t gone too long because the war ended. He always had an office job. [He had] business college. "

"[I lived in Morenci] from ’34 to ’40. I went to school in ’41, but I didn’t change residence. My brothers and sister were there. Changing my residence wasn’t until I got married in ’44. [I was involved with] just the church [in Morenci].

I had a very wonderful time in Morenci. My brothers and sisters went to school [there]. [It] was special for me because I had my father and my brothers and my family there. There were a lot of very nice things about the people, the Spanish-speaking people more than anybody else. Say there was a dance, going full blast there at the Longfellow Inn and somebody died, somehow it would get to the dance that somebody has passed away at the hospital or at home or whatever, the dance would stop immediately. Out of respect for the dead, the dance would stop. Everybody would go home. They don’t do that anymore, of course, but they did that at that time. Out of respect. In Metcalf it was different because it was such a small little town. If you had your Victrola going full blast, they would all stop until the funeral was over. It was a small town. Everybody knew each other. [It was] a costumbre, out of respect. In Morenci and Metcalf, it didn’t matter the religion. You still did it.

[I lived] by the smelter. We could hear the workers and we could hear the laughter over there. By the smelter, I lived in Morenci. When you go up to observe the pit, you can some cement walls way up there, the ruins. [I lived near] the Murillios. One of them lives here [in Tucson]. Rueben. They’re Presbyterians. I know them, very lovely people. I see Rueben on Sundays at church. He goes to Trinity. [I lived near them] around that area. I remember my neighbors, Adolfo Bagüez. The Bagëz were very dear, very fine people. [They were] very good friends of ours.
The Gomes, Sy Gomes who recently died, was one of my best classmates. Fernandes [was another Spaniard]. The Italianos were the Villiantes, the Berras, and Bosa.

The old old cemetery was almost closed by the time I had any sense of remembering. It was going up to el Rio del aguila (Eagle Creek). It’s still there full of cactus in a deplorable condition. It’s terrible. There was the Bunker Cemetery where my father is buried. I’ve always been very upset about the Bunker Cemetery because the founders of Metcalf, Morenci, and all of that area are buried there. Many, many old-timers are buried there but it’s in a deplorable condition. [They don’t let you in] because of the smelter. The relatives are mostly not there anymore, so the graves are full of weeds. Just the people that have relatives there, their graves are clean and nice and kept. I have always asked myself, “Why can’t PD do something about it?” I’m sure they own the land. It won’t break the PD if they would have hired help to take care of that cemetery, clean the graves, the weeds. It’s always bothered me, why are they treated like this? Look at the Clifton Cemetery, the Catholic one, that’s in perfect condition. The church does it. I’m sure the PD has more money than the Catholic people. That’s kept nice and clean and pretty and the very best they can.

First PD took every single grave from the Metcalf Cemetery. (They put them) in (new) Morenci. Near the Catholic Cemetery, there’s the Metcalf Cemetery right there. The Catholic Cemetery in Clifton, right across is the Metcalf Cemetery. That is a snake area. You have snakes and scorpions there. And every single grave is kept, except people with [out] relatives. Like my mother is there so Arnulfo fixed it up. Why can’t they do something about it? My brother says, “Because cemeteries are not their business.” Well, they should make it their business. Most of their relatives are not there any more, they’re gone or they’re old, can’t do anything about it. It makes me very sad. They [PD] could if they wanted to, they could do it. They dug everything from Metcalf and put them there so why don’t they take care of them? It’s a disgrace! Very sad, you go up to Morenci [now] and you don’t have any memories. You stand there viewing the pit, and say “my house used to be over there.” New Morenci doesn’t mean a thing. I guess civilization or prosperity or whatever (laughs) for copper. At least it’s not foggy or smoky like it was at one time. You could hardly breathe. . It was horrible! I don’t know how in the world, babies could exist. It [smoke] filled the canyon. The smoke stayed there.

[One of the values I got from living in Metcalf and Morenci was] the love between neighbors. We helped neighbors and friends like one big family. A community like that.

[From the Depression and World War II I learned] that at any moment things can be pulled from under you. Look at us now. All that prosperity and all that money, we’ve been saving it could go. The market could go; you learn that. Finally, I’ve become a collector. I have dresses from the thirties. Someone told me the other day, “you have so many dresses.” I said, “If you had saved your dresses from the forties, you would still have a lot of dresses! (Laughs) Isn’t that the truth, no? Sure! You learn how to make a lot of soups, a lot of sopita. You have a lot of everything now but you still hold tight to things. You make everything do, a lot longer. I see my children now, go here and there and travel and come and spend. I can’t believe it. They haven’t gone through a hard time. They don’t think twice about it, none of them. I’ve gone to Europe twice but in my day, nobody went to Europe. Not even the people that had an extra dollar than you. Right now everybody goes to Europe. Who hasn’t been to Europe nowadays? Priscilla has been to Egypt, to Australia, to London, five times. It’s a different way of thinking.

Overnight life changed here, September the 11th. This country will never be the same, I don’t think. Nothing compared to this. Nobody knows the outcome. All of a sudden it changed. Even going for your mail has changed. Just going to get your mail, it has changed. Overnight. It’s scary. We have been blessed with this kind of a country that we needed to afford fighting for our liberty, our rights.

I do want them [my great-grandchildren] to know about their grandpa because they don’t know. Priscilla interviewed me the other day and said, “I would like them very much to know about Pop.” I have a very close friend and she said, “You should hear your grandchildren talk about Pop.” Emma [my great-granddaughter] knows Leo’s picture."