Art Baca

A Tribute to Art Baca
By Dan Onorato

Besides Art’s kindness and thoughtful listening, I think of his radiant vitality and unassuming charisma, manifest so enthusiastically when he greeted people, when he laughed, or when he sang songs like “These Bones Gonna’ Rise Again!” Or, when in 1964, Mary guided him to stand before the villagers of La Villita, outside of Apaseo, and explain our (Amigos’) interest in working with them to bring potable water to their community. Too many of their children had died from drinking dirty water. For the men and women of La Villita, Art was the blind seer. Entranced by his confident vision of clean water for them and their children, and encouraged by his assurances that, yes, together we could achieve this challenging goal, they said, yes, they could: “Sí, Señor Baca. Si Ud. dice que sí, se puede, pues, ya, andémonos juntos.”

We didn’t actually succeed in bringing drinkable water to La Villita, but a few years later, after our gaping 2’ by 3’ kilometer- long ditch for the water pipe that never came had been filled back in, the Guanajuato State government installed clean water in the village, with connections to each home. No, we hadn’t done exactly what we promised, but we look back with humble satisfaction knowing that, with Art’s influence, we had planted the seed for that fruition.

I think also of the trip that Art invited Ron D’Aloisio and me on, to La Cienaga, several miles south of Santa Fe, where he and Mary had built a second home on land Art’s family had owned for centuries. There I experienced Art’s pride in his ancestral land and his family’s heritage and long history in New Mexico. And I saw first-hand the sheer contentment and enthusiasm he felt in showing Ron and me the places he cherished as a child and teenager before he lost his sight. It was uncanny how, though blind, he knew exactly where to turn or exit. And when we’d arrive at one of his
favorite places, he’d lift his head as though aglow in a vision, his voice brimming with energy, and his animated story-telling would take over.

I have an abiding affection for Art and Mary as steadfast friends, to me and Alice, and to my uncle, Fr. Joe. After Alice and I married in 1972, they hosted an Amigos’ celebration for us at their home. Ten years later, they became our second daughter Talya’s Godparents. In the mid eighties they introduced us to Baltazar, from El Salvador, who then lived with us for two years. At our 25th Anniversary Art toasted us with one of his inimitable stories. And then, after my uncle moved into Nazareth House in Terra Linda, not far from where they lived, they saw him regularly—at his Sunday Masses, for lunch at his favorite Italian or Basque restaurants, and just to visit. Their faithful friendship, afffection, and love helped sustain him during that challenging time, especially in his last months. It was Art and Mary who were with him at his bedside when he drew his last breath.

I picture Art now, reveling in glory as he regales the constellations with his singing, “The head bone’s connected to the neck bone, the neck bone’s connected to the shoulder bone . . . These bone’s gonna’ rise again!” My bones rattle at the seismic resonance of his booming deep voice, especially that “B” sound. And the God of infinite vision, love, and creativity beams with delight: “Yes, Art, sing it! Sing it!”

ARTURO FRANCISCO BACA

[Testimonial given at the Mass of Remembrance, November 7, 2015, by Susan Boreliz]

In Memory of Arturo . . .

I am Susan Boreliz, also known by the name Art gave me, which is Chana or Chanita. I met Art when I was a freshman at Terra Linda High School. For the young people here today, before iPhones and computers, there was this thing called a typewriter. Art needed a typist for his Spanish class and he asked Mr. Harris, my typing teacher, who might be a candidate. I'm not sure who my competition was, but I am forever grateful that I was chosen because I quickly adopted him and his wife, Mary, as my second set of parents - no formal papers needed. I would not be here today without Art's example and inspiration. He and Mary saw me through all of my triumphs and defeats, my musings about philosophy and world politics, and they even hosted my first marriage in their backyard.

Art was one of only 16 blind teachers who taught sighed students in California in the sixties when he started teachings at Terra Linda. In the early eighties, he co-founded a Beautification Committee at the school, designing and tending to a garden which I know was a source of great joy to him and others who benefited from it. The original trees which he planted are still there.

Art, who was always known as Mr. Baca or Senor Baca to his students, would shock us with his uncanny awareness of everything around him. We couldn't get away with anything. He had a beautiful, commanding , and soothing voice which made us all sit up straighter and feel safe. He used song, story, humor, and rhythm to teach his class.

After high school, I continued working with Art (as did Cathie Peters, who is singing today, also known as Catita) reading to him in Spanish, typing letters, and helping him to assemble his content for his traveling storytelling adventures. He frequented various Marin elementary schools and libraries, in addition to traveling all over the Southwest, entertaining vast audiences of children and adults with his stories. I remember marveling at how he could remember where everything was using his own system of categorization. I would sometimes be frustrated because I couldn't find a file or cassette tape, and he would remind me where to look and there it would be.

Art was never one to be complacent, constantly looking to the horizon. After over 30 years as a teacher at Terra Linda High School, if he wasn't traveling to perform his storytelling, or writing, tending his backyard garden, or listening to his tapes on history and finance, he was delving into pursuits such as mini-farming before it became vogue.

I loved it when I could make him laugh, especially when I said something daring. His way of saying, "att girl!" I ran many a life strategy by him and he always asked insightful questions and endlessly encouraged me. Whenever I felt hopeless about a situation, there was always an understood dialog between us that said: "If he could do it, I could do it."

About 20 years ago, I was fortunate to be able to travel to Art and Mary's second home in La Cienega, New Mexico with one of my best friends. I was able to see the special place of Art's 400-year heritage where he received much of his inspiration for the stories he would tell and write.

Art believed in mentoring young folks around him, and he always told me that I had value not because of what I did, but because of who I am.

As Emerson said, "To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden, or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded."

I feel my memories of Art wouldn't be complete without particularly mentioning what a privilege it has been for me to witness Art's devotion to and love for Mary, his cherished wife, and acknowledging all of you who are here today, many of whom I recognize and know where very special to him. On behalf of Mary, I must call special attention to his caregivers: Vi, Jennifer, Jenet, Kieran, Leslie, Francilia, Susan, Stephanie, Marisa, Lucrecia, Lili, Dina, and Ramiro.

Art and Mary taught me what love, honor, respect, endurance, and joy look like in a marriage - in a family - in a friendship - in a community. I never put anyone on a pedestal, but in this case, it is truly difficult not to do so. They are my true North.

Te extranare. Estara siempre en mi Corazon, Arturo.
I miss you. You will always be in my heart.