The city of Alamosa is more than a century old, and I canít speak to what it was like more than 65 years ago, but I have active memories dating back 60 years.
Alamosa has grown in many ways; in fact, the land upon which my house sits was vacant land back then, although some single family homes bear testimony to the fact that people lived out here.
I think some family friends hunted rabbits here, but I canít be certain, though the recent presence of a young cottontail in my yard suggests that it may have been true.
The cemetery is where it has long been, and the airport is where paved runways welcomed aircraft for many years. I remember a man named Kramer had an airfield west of town, as well.
For me, history is in the air. I feel it, and it comes in the form of small memories triggered by sights or sounds, as well as big recollections sparked by community events.
During the past few weeks, I have visited two historic cemeteries that quietly tell the tale of residents before and up to the turn of the last century.
The Alamosa Spanish Cemetery speaks to me of poverty, racial discrimination, love and sorrow. As the wind causes flags to fly openly on the two flag poles, it awakens patriotism and the long silent whispers of loved ones gone before.For the complete article see the 10-10-2013 issue.
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