"The Stronghearts"

It was the summer of ’79 when I first laid eyes on them. A 1956 teal blue Ford sedan rumbled by our Santa Fe style compound, our home, where I and my siblings grew up. The neighborhood and particularly the street we lived on; "Camino Sierra Vista" was considered “The Barrio” in Santa Fe, New Mexico. A Spanish term for “The Ghetto.” However, we were so fond of our hood and had no idea that we were poor, nor lived in a part of town that was considered less than.

I was the matriarch of this sibling hood. The one that held it all together, not by choice. By necessity. I was 11 years old raising my siblings. I was named "Echo Leta." The title of matriarch was handed down to me as I was the eldest of four and my 31 year old mother had decided to check out and become a massive drug addict after the birth of my baby sister, Mercedes Katrina.

So here we were, our sibling posy, playing in the middle of “OUR STREET" Camino Sierra Vista, on a hot summer day. I was 9, my brother Canon (pronounced Canyon – spelled with a Spanish N – and also has no middle name) was 8. My middle sister Chenoa Storm was 5 and my baby sister Mercedes was 2. The four of us watched in wonderment, as the teal blue boat of car came rambling down our street.

A wild haired woman with yellow bleached hair had one hand on the huge white round steering wheel and a cigarette in the other. The radio blared a Fleetwood Mac song, all too familiar in our household. In the back of the teal boat, there was a wide-eyed crew of small children. They were laughing, hanging out the windows and waved at us as they cruised by. My brother and two sisters were mesmerized as we watched them slowly pass us and turn into a driveway four houses up from ours.

It would not take long before the “Stronghearts” came running down the street, exploring their new neighborhood. Without a doubt they were all siblings, but each one had a different and very decisive look. "Lake Many Feathers," clearly the oldest of this motley crew of siblings, was a beauty. Jet black hair and big blue eyes. "Faith Brings The Wild" was next in this overtly dynamic lineage of siblings.

Faith looked a lot like me. She was the same age, same height, had beautiful natural sandy blonde hair and a distinct limp that was undoubtedly noticeable.

I would soon find out that the reason for her limp was due to massive third degree burns she had suffered as an infant. When Faith was 6 months old, she had crawled into a bed of hot coals while camping with her parents. Faith had multiple surgeries and ended up with a club foot and left leg that was vastly smaller than her counterpart, and a knee that was so twisted, it was unable to give her the guaranteed support one would normally have. Hence her distinct limp I noticed right away.

"Mercy Blue Sky That Never Darkens" was clearly the next sister in line and was my brothers same age. Mercy had long curly white blonde hair. She was quiet and thoughtful. The middle child no doubt.

"Hallelujah Mist On The Mountain" was 5 years old. She was a fiery red head with a beautiful face full of freckles and captivating blue eyes. Her siblings called her "LuLu."

"Dependable Hickory" was the only boy in this fascinating family. Hickory was a tiny little boy with shaggy blonde hair. His clothes and face were dirty. Stained with grime and food, and an attitude to match.

Trailing behind this rowdy bunch was little baby. "Sarah Beth Aurelia Star." Beth was a beautiful toe head cherub. White hair, scrumptious chubby cheeks, huge blue eyes and a sagging diaper that looked like it hadn’t been changed all day.

"Who were these people that just inundated our hood? Our barrio? Our street? "

We walked towards each other. A siblinghood face off of sorts, as we all started walking down the middle of legendary “Camino Sierra Vista.”

I am pretty sure my brother and Hickory had vengeance in their eyes, being they were the sole brothers to a family of a whole hell of a lot of sisters, and they were ready to get rowdy. Throw rocks at on coming cars, pull endless pranks not only on each other but without a doubt on their sisters.

Let’s face it. They both needed and deserved to blow off some steam. And at 8 and 4 years old that is the only way they knew how to release that nagging, annoying, inundating, daily pressure they both lived in.

What they lived in. What WE ALL lived in was total dysfunction. And we would soon come to figure out, we had a whole hell of a lot in common. The common denominator. CHAOS. That is exactly what our family and home life was. And we sure as hell had that in common.

To the outside world it was completely dysfunctional. To US our two sibling-hoods it was the norm. It was our norm. And what a GOD SEND the “Stronghearts” would come to be.

The 10 of us swiftly became thick as thieves. It was as if our home had morphed into theirs and their tiny little house had morphed into ours.

Our mothers, Paula and Katrina were thick as thieves too, but in an entirely different way.

Sure, they were friendly with each other and would lean on each other for food or babysitting or to plan an outing to the community pool that was blocks away from “Camino Sierra Vista” but very much still in the hood. It was. After all. Located right smack dab in the middle of the only low-income housing, otherwise known as the projects, that existed, in the tiny little town of Santa Fe, New Mexico.

They were thick as thieves in the underlying term, tone, and chaos, we, the sibling-hoods of 10 kids endured.

The absolute definition of what a “dysfunctional” looks and operates like.

My mother Katrina was a raging cocaine addict and Paula was a raging drunk. And both of our mothers were divorced and for the most part without a solid partner in their lives.

Which left us to fend for ourselves a good amount of the time. As well as take care of each other, and most unfortunately also take care of our mothers. Role reversal at its finest.

Without a hesitation of doubt. I know that we were exactly where we were meant to be. I know that GOD. THE UNIVERSE. BUDDHA. JESUS. Whomever it was. Fuck it was all of them considering the amount of insanity we ultimately thrived in, was out there. THEY were ALL looking out for us from afar. They made sure “OUR universes collided that day in the summer of 1979, in the barrio on “Camino Sierra Vista.”

Our worlds came together. Came together in our quaint and beautiful historical town. Santa Fe, New Mexico. And that collision created a lifelong friendship between the “Stronghearts” and our siblinghood. And for that I am eternally grateful. For I would not be me, without them. And I can honestly say, that they too would say the same.

"This story is dedicated to Faith Strongheart. My 1st best friend and my forever best friend & sister. Faithy you are simply the best. You are a powerhouse of a woman, a survivor, a mother and a UCLA FILM SCHOOL GRADUATE. Thank you for letting me teach you how to ride a bike when we were just little naïve girls. I love you."