Precious Juju Stories
These adventures happened while my sister Julie—Juju to me—and I were growing up in Farmington, New Mexico. Our home was a flat-roofed house at 2116 E. 12th Street at the corner of E 12th and N Fairview Place.
We lived there until January 1974, when we moved to Omaha, Nebraska. I was 7, and Julie was 6.
Easy come, easy go!
One day, while walking down 12th Street, we found $11 lying in the road—a $10 bill and a $1 bill. To us, it was a fortune! But we were honest kids, and we knew somebody must be missing that money, so we set out to find its rightful owner.
We went house to house knocking on doors and asking whoever answered if they had lost this money. We didn't get far. At the second house we tried, a lady answered the door and, by golly, yes, that was the $11 she'd lost earlier!
We were quite content with our good deed. When we got home and told our parents, they were a bit incredulous. I'm not sure if they were proud of us or wanted to beat us, but they knew they had two honest little kids!
Blood, a Frantic Sprint, an Ambulance, and Stitches - This Story Has It All!
We lived about a half mile from Animas Elementary School and most days Julie and I would walk to and from school together. I was in first grade and she was in kindergarten.
One day when we were walking home after school, I apparently walked into the middle of a rock fight. Out of the blue a big rock hit me on the back of the head and I went down!
As I lay there bleeding, a nice lady came out of her house to help. She took me into her foyer and wrapped a towel around my head to control the bleeding.
Meanwhile, Julie took off running home to get Mom. She sprinted the entire way! By the time they got to me, an ambulance had arrived. Mom and Julie followed it to the hospital.
Several stitches later, I was good as new. I still have a lump on the back of my head to remind me to always keep an eye out for flying rocks!
Thanks for the help that day, Juju!
The Nickel That Got Away
One day, Dad was at the kitchen table filling out some paperwork and needed the license plate number of his car parked in the driveway. He couldn't remember it, so he sent Julie and me outside to check. We raced out, looked at the plate, and ran back inside.
Julie beat me back inside and recited the license plate number to Dad. I promptly corrected her—she had one letter wrong. Or so I thought.
Dad offered a nickel to whichever of us was right, so we went back outside to check.
Julie was right.
My pride and my pocketbook both took a hit that day.
Blue Horse Rescue
Julie and I were walking together one day, and we found this little blue horse lying in the street. It was carved out of rock or marble, 1-1/2" tall and it was a little bit damaged, but we instantly fell in love with it.
We could never agree on whose it was, and over the years it changed hands back and forth between us. Eventually, Julie gave it to me, and I've kept it ever since.
It's the littlest thing, but it was there with the two of us on East 12th Street in Farmington, New Mexico.
Today, that little blue horse is a reminder of my precious Juju.
Our Farmington Years in Pictures
Here are some photographs from those years, along with a few memories of the places we went and the people who shared them with us.
