"[I lived in Morenci] twenty-seven years. I was going to church and sometimes we would have a little bible studies with Father Narcisso. We had the same ones all the time that would teach it [catechism], Juanita Hernandez and Aurora Díaz. They were the only ones that do it over and over, year in and year out. (laughs)

I had a good time in Morenci, but now that place there, that's not Morenci, Arizona. That's just company houses down there. I don't think of it as my hometown. [I feel] sad [that the real Morenci is gone]. You can't tell your kids, "Look this [is] where I lived. Look this [is] where I went to school. Look this [is] where we had all the fun going up the mountains and this and that." You can't go show them all that stuff.

[Morenci was special because of] friends, the people. At first I thought so [that the people in Clifton were different from the ones in Morenci]. They were strangers at first. Since we were from very young we knew all the people there [in Morenci]. We were a lot closer in old Morenci. Morenci is a very special place. It's gone! (laughs) The people were [close]. We knew each other, all our problems, [and] all our troubles. We were real close all the people there.

We were mountain climbers [in our neighborhood of El Espinazo]. My husband would tell me that I would have one foot longer than the other because I would (laughs) climb mountains. All the climbing and all those steps when we would go to school. We had to climb down all those steps. At noontime we'd go all the way up to top. (laughs) There was El Seis, La Arizona, Longfellow; [those were the barrios]. My padrinos (godparents) and Paulita, the Montaños, and Doña Concha and Lupe Muñoz, and the Macias, the Delgados [were all my neighbors]. Oh, and Pete and Carrie Steel, the negritos [too]. Nice neighbors. Carrie would always tell me, "When you get married, I'm gonna make you your cake." (laughs) I didn't give her a chance! There was the Orozcos and the Urribes.

I think he [Pete Steel] had a pool house someplace. I remember he had a black horse that used to stand right there at la corte and you could see his outline. He [the horse] knew, I think, that we admired him. (laughs) He liked to stand on the ridge.

[There weren't any other African Americans] in my neighborhood. There were the Williams [in another part of town]. I remember the little Chinese man that would sell vegetables. He would carry his [produce] on a pole, like the Chinese do. He'd [have] his vegetables, tomatoes and lettuce and chili. I remember we would save the paper bags and take them to him and he would give us candy for them. That's how we got our candy! (laughs) There was the Yees. They had a grocery store but that little man had a tiny little shack there. He was by himself [not married]. He tried to speak Spanish and oh, he slaughtered it. (laughs) "Chi-li-to-ma-te-yre-pollo." We would say, "Alla está el chinito que te quiere matar tu pollo!" (There's the little Chinese man who wants to kill your chicken!) (laughs) He said, "Chili, tomaté, y repollo." (laughs) I don't think he had a trensa (braid). He was an old man.

The meat man, Aguilar, his father had a mule. He would deliver the meat to our neighborhood over there. He used to sing a lot, "Pajarito Barranquieno." I could hear him sing (sings). He liked to sing! (laughs) He would come in his mule or a horse but he would deliver meat. We had a nice life over there [in Morenci], little memories, [and] little things like that. You don't remember until you start thinking about those things.

[Morenci was segregated] I think so. I remember one of the boys dressed in his uniform, he came from war and went into that club that was full of gabachos and they threw him out of the Morenci Club. It was guy with one arm. He didn't like the Mexicans at all. Even in school, there was 3A, 3B, and 1A and 1B. Most of the time, the A's was mostly white kids or very smart Mexican kids. (laughs) I was [in] all B's! (laughs)

I feel real sad about it [Morenci being torn down]. I sure didn't like the idea. [Morenci made me] more friendly, thinking about problems of people, more concern for another human being because we were so close. What bothered other people, bothered us. When there was something sad happening to people, we felt it, too.

Going through the Depression, (laughs) my daughter scolds me because I (laughs) [say], "No, that's too much." (laughs) Like the other day, they took us to the restaurant and oh my goodness, I saw the prices. "No, I'm not going to eat here!" (laughs) Instead of the list of the thing [menu], I go to the prices. I choose the lowest. (laughs) They get angry with me. I guess we had to really scrunge and we didn't want to spend too much money on things [during the Depression]. We didn't have it. World War II, I just keep hoping at that time that that was the war to end all wars. I really hope that it had been really that but you know they keep going into war for this and that. I wish it had really been the war to end all wars. I hate wars. (laughs)

I would tell them [my grandchildren] about the nice times that we had instead of the problems that we had. 'Cause we had nice times even if we were poor. We enjoyed it. We enjoyed being young and doing crazy things.

Her [Josie] house had fruit trees. My house was full of fruit trees. One time we went to their neighbor's house, Compaño. He had a big apricot tree. Josie said, "Let's go cut some apricots and they were still green. (laughs) We loved [them] green. He [Compaño] caught us cutting his apricots. He got so angry, he went and cut every single apricot from his tree! (laughs) They were still green. Of course my uncle knew. We got in trouble with him. (laughs) He knew how to scold!"