American Southwest Vacation (Part 4 of 4) All Because Of One Ring

This is a 'one-thing-leads-to-another' story where timing, circumstance, and serendipity all work together to create a beautiful outcome.

Pueblo of Santo Domingo, New Mexico

When we first arrived in Santa Fe, I e-mailed our daughters and asked them what kind of turquoise jewelry they'd like us to bring home for them.  Paige requested a necklace and Molly wanted a 'big and funky' ring.

We thought both of these requests would be easy to fill as there is enough turquoise jewelry in the American Southwest to sink a ship!  Joe and I looked through dozens of jewellery stores trying to find the perfect pieces for our daughters.  In the end, we decided to buy directly from the Navajo who sold their wares from the covered walkway of the Palace of Governors in the Santa Fe plaza.

We spotted Paige's necklace almost immediately.  We bought it instantly.  Done!

But as we walked down the line of vendors, we started to realize that finding a big and funky ring would be more difficult than we originally thought.  And what exactly did 'big and funky' mean anyway?  Really, what would I know about funky?

We reached the very last vendor in the row and my eyes spied a large, oval turquoise ring.  The colour of the stone was gorgeous.  It was certainly big.  But did it qualify as funky?  I hadn't a clue.

I bent down to take a closer look.  "Try it on," the vendor said.  I quickly explained the ring wasn't for me, but for one of our daughters.  Molly's fingers are about the same size as mine and my heart sank as I tried to slide the ring on my finger and it stopped at my knuckle.  I was so disappointed.

I was about to put it back down on the blanket when Sheldon (the vendor) quickly offered to phone his Dad (the jeweler) to see if he could re-size the ring for us.  We told him we were leaving Santa Fe the next day.  "He could re-size it overnight?" we asked, thinking that was near impossible.  "I'll ask him," Sheldon replied.  A call was made and Sheldon reported that his Dad was willing to do it for us.  His Dad required we pay a 50% deposit.  We handed over a wad of cash, exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet up with his parents the next day.

As we walked away from the transaction, I said to Joe, "I'm keeping my fingers crossed this whole thing works out."  Little did I know how well 'this whole thing' was going to unfold.

We phoned Sheldon's dad the next afternoon.  Yes, he re-sized the ring.  Not only that, he and his wife would make the 45 minute drive to Santa Fe to deliver it to us.  We agreed on a meeting place.  At 2:00pm Sammy and Mavis walked towards us as we stood on the sidewalk in front of the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum.

We introduced ourselves.  The rest of the money exchanged hands and Sammy presented us with the ring.  I tried it on and it was a perfect fit.  It was beautiful.  Sammy told us he stayed up late working on it.  I told him, "I may not give it to my daughter but keep it for myself instead."

We chatted for a bit.  We told them we were from Canada.  They told us they lived on the Santo Domingo Pueblo.

We were about to say good-bye when they invited us to their pueblo's upcoming feast day on August 4th.  "You should come," they enthused.  "But make sure you arrive early.  Thousands of people come to the pueblo that day."  "How early is early?" we asked.  "The mass is at 7:00am and right afterwards St. Dominic is carried through the streets of the pueblo.  The corn dance ceremony starts mid-morning.  The celebration goes late into the night."

ARE THEY NOT THE CUTEST COUPLE YOU HAVE EVER SEEN?

We told them we were heading to Arizona that evening but would be back in New Mexico a week later.  We mentioned that our flight wasn't leaving Albuquerque until 5:00pm on August 4th and we would do our best to make it.

When we returned to New Mexico at the end of our vacation, both Joe and I agreed we were going to do our utmost to attend the Santo Domingo Feast Day the next morning.

We set our alarm clock for 6:00am on August 4th.  We packed our luggage, checked out of our hotel and drove north to the pueblo.  We had no idea what to expect.

We were stopped at the entrance and were handed a pamphlet on etiquette and rules while on the pueblo.  No alcohol or drugs.  No cell phones or cameras.  The dancing and singing were sacred ceremonies, not performances.  There would be no clapping.

We parked our car in an empty, dusty field.  I think we were the 7th and 8th people to arrive on the pueblo.  The amusement park was silently waiting for riders.  Groups of vendors were setting up their booths in hopes of making some sales later in the day.  All was quiet.  I felt a wee bit conspicuous as we walked around searching for the church.

Santo domingo Church (Photo found on the internet.)

We were warmly welcomed into the church and quickly found a seat in a back row pew.  When mass ended, the statue of Saint Dominic was lifted onto a litter and carried on the shoulders of four men.  Two men with shotguns led the way.  The congregation filed out of the church and followed St. Dominic down the dusty paths of the pueblo.  "Should we follow too?" we asked each other.  "Why not?" we both said at once.

We tagged along and followed the small crowd through the alleyways of the pueblo.  Every member of each household stood quietly on their porches and watched Saint Dominic (and us) go by.  The silence was shattered every once in a while by blasts from the guns.  It made me jump every single time.

The parade ended in the plaza and St. Dominic was given his place of honour in a wooden shrine in front of the kiva (a room for religious rituals and spiritual ceremonies).

By this time of the morning, the pueblo was filling up with visitors.  Throngs of people were pouring in.

Joe and I remembered that Sammy told us that the first dances would be in front of the church, so we walked back and parked ourselves on a shady patch of dirt.  "I wonder if we'll run into Sammy and Mavis in this huge crowd?" I asked Joe.  Our buttocks were aching within minutes so Joe got up and went for a stretch.  "Guess who I ran into?" he said when he returned.  "Sammy!  He told us to meet him by the kiva after the first set of dances are over."

We heard the sound of drums and men's voices getting louder when suddenly hundreds and hundreds of dancers filed in.  Men and women, grandmothers and grandfathers, children and toddlers.  All dressed in their regalia of jewelry, feathers, furs, mocassins, bells, shells, headdresses, rattles, bare feet, and evergreen branches.  Interspersed between the dancers were clowns in body paint, loincloths and cornstalk headdresses.  It was a sight to see! What an experience.

Santo Domingo Corn Dance painting by J. D. Roybal 1961

When the first dances were over, we navigated our way through the massive crowds towards the kiva.  There was Sammy waiting for us.  "You made it!"  he shouted as he hugged us.  "Come on!  Follow me.  I'm taking you to my mother's house!"

Joe and I turned to stare at each other in disbelief.  The stunned looks on our faces said, "WOW!  Can you believe it?  We're being invited into his mother's house!?"

We entered her home and Sammy's voice boomed, "These are my customers from Canada!"  We were introduced to sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews, and grandchildren.  Women and children leaped into action.  They showed us to a place at a large table laden with food.  "Sit!  Eat!" Sammy's relatives insisted.  Well, they didn't have to ask us twice.  We threw our legs over the wooden bench and helped ourselves to pork and chili stew, yeast bread, cucumber and corn salad, desserts.  Little children shyly placed bottles of water beside us.

I was wearing Molly's ring and proudly showed it to everyone.

We only stayed about 20 minutes as we knew they were going to be feeding friends and family all day and well into the night. Sammy told us he was one of the singers and had to go back for the next set of dances.  "Meet me at noon by the kiva and I'll take you to my place."

We watched the next set of dances at the plaza.  It was 95 degrees in the shade.  We figured there must have been 700 dancers.  They danced for over an hour.  Incredible.

We spotted Sammy in the middle of the singer's circle and he saw us.  He slowly backed his way out of the group, grabbed our arms and said, "Now to my house!  Mavis has been cooking for weeks!"

Again, we were given a primo place at the kitchen table.  We met more of Sammy's family.  We chatted with his daughters, sons, grandchildren.  Soups, stews, and sandwiches were passed around.  We heaped our plates with everything that came our way.  All of it was delicious.  A deep glass dish layered with cake and whipped cream was brought out and set in front of Joe.  "You'll never get rid of us now!"  I said.  Everyone laughed.

All too soon it was time for us to say good-bye.  We still had to drive back to Albuquerque to return our rental car and then catch our flight to Denver, Colorado.

We hugged each member of Sammy's family and thanked them profusely for their hospitality.  Mavis ran outside to her traditional clay oven and grabbed us a loaf of freshly baked yeast bread to take with us.

The last person I hugged was Sammy.  Through tears I told him how honoured we were to be included in his family's celebrations and that we would never forget him or this day.  With a smile on his face he said, "Now, you call us when you get home so we know you arrived safely."  I promised him we would.

As we walked back to the car I said to Joe, "Isn't it fascinating how things work out?  How one thing leads to another?  If that ring had fit my finger when I first tried it on in Santa Fe, none of this would have happened."  Joe agreed it was all pretty amazing.

All because of one ring.