Typically, the wind is Ramon De La Ossa’s only companion when tending the Angus herd in Lochiel. But on this fall day in November, the abandoned border town boomed with some 70 extended family members taking part in the annual cemetery cleanup and picnic.
As Ramon Jr. mowed the grass around the family’s 67-year-old adobe chapel, De La Ossas, Lortas and other kin—blood entwined—were up on the hill raking, weeding and watching children run amok amid the headstones. A grand place for hide and seek.
One adult helping on this day was Steve De La Ossa, who traveled from Tempe. It was his first rodeo, so to speak. “My dad was part of a group that moved to California for work right out of high school,” Steve said. But he has always been aware of his ties to southern Arizona. And now, he’s appreciating the shared heritage.
Telma De La Ossa Lorta was, on the other hand, no newbie to the event. She has taken part in the cemetery cleanup for 20 years. A resident of Patagonia, she believes the gathering brings the family together in a unique way—on land Antonio and Carolina De La Ossa settled six generations previously. The spirit of family, the chance to talk and break bread with relatives known and new at the site where ancestors rest, is a unique opportunity.
The chapel and cemetery were recently returned to the family. The property had been caught up in the scandal involving former county treasurer Elizabeth Gutfahr, who held the deed to the land. In October, ownership of those two parcels—one containing the cemetery and the other containing the chapel—were passed to the newly formed De La Ossa Family Cemetery Foundation.
“It’s a time to teach our little ones our history,” said Lorta, whose mother—Gloria De La Ossa Lorta—grew up in this remote slice of the state. Like Gloria, Telma attended the little red schoolhouse that has in recent years been renovated. The schoolhouse is located at the north end of Lochiel in the shadow of the chapel and cemetery.
Once known as La Noria, Lochiel was thriving in the 1880s when Antonio and Carolina arrived from California. At that time there were five stores, three saloons, a brewery, a butcher shop and a bakery. Lochiel benefitted from being a border crossing, an official port of entry with a custom house collecting duties on imported goods, inspecting cargo, and enforcing smuggling laws.
Nothing of those early years is left except a customs house and two residences. But at one time, kerosene-lit homes were part of the landscape. The aroma of freshly made tortillas floated through the air. And gardens flourished, a means of feeding the family in summer and in winter.
“I grew up here,” said 77-year old Green Valley resident Ralph De La Ossa. He remembered walking down the dusty road to a play Loteria with cousins. Loteria is a traditional Mexican game similar to bingo that uses cards and player boards instead of numbered balls.
“I remember getting on a horse and riding over to Washington Camp to buy a Coke and some candy,” Ralph said. The trip—one way—sometimes took nearly an hour.
As the memories poured forth, individuals connected with each other. Cousin this. Aunt that, Grandmother who.
Maureen De La Ossa of Patagonia brought out a display she creates every year—the “ought” birthdays. The board is a labor of love bearing photos of family members born in years ending in “5.” Next year, it’s the “6s” turn. “Where should I hang this?” she asked. Someone assisted, taking the board from her hands and moving toward a fence where it was hung.
In the meantime, food happened.
Menfolk gathered around a grill as Brandon Beyerle used a leaf blower to grow the flames.
“Don’t worry,” assured a smiling Ralph, who has a degree in fire science, “there are firemen here.”
Once the blaze was calmed, steaks, hot dogs wrapped in bacon and strips of marinated beef were slapped on the grate. Piles of corn and flour tortillas awaited nearby. Homemade beans were warmed. Posole simmered.
And across the road, tables were assembled with food guarded by mesh tents—potato salad, guacamole, deviled eggs. There were more chips than could ever feed a small country. Dessert? How many cookies can one family eat?
In the blessing given before the start of the feast, Adele De La Ossa Post acknowledged that while much work has been done in the creation of a 501(c) (13) that protects and preserves the cemetery and chapel for generations to come, there is still a lot to do. A website will be created for the De La Ossa Family Cemetery Foundation. Monies must be raised for chapel repairs. Foundations, like gardens, don’t flourish on their own.
Today, though, it was about accomplishment. The two properties were safe in De La Ossa hands. And as the meal began, the presence of Antonio De La Ossa, signified by the large white cross up on the hill, was very much felt.