Here it is. 64. I feel great today. No aches or pains or worries. I have Ruben here with me and we are content to be at home. I love my home, and my work. I am a pretty lucky guy. I don’t need anything. I’ve had a lot of fun in my life, and am content now. I am clear headed and healthy for the most part, and I am rich with music, clothes, books, a nice home, family and friends.
The first thing I did this morning was play the song “When I’m 64” by the Beatles, and then I posted it on Facebook. It brings back some very fond memories. Way back around 1967 or ’68, my brother Freddie and I would love to play my brother Rudy’s copy of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band on his little record player in the back bedroom at home. We were just kids. Freddie was 10 and I was 7. When this song would come on, we’d dance around like Dick Van Dyke, twirling our dad’s cane around, singing every word, and getting all silly. This was one of the few times when we actually got along and had fun together. The Beatles had that kind of effect on us.
My sister Irene sent me this birthday card a couple of days early. Then this morning, one after the other, she, my friends Ernie and Nancy, and my other sister Becky all called and serenaded me with “Happy Birthday to you” over the phone. It was so touching. Armando Cruz from work sent me an online birthday card too on behalf of the Library.
Ruben re-arranged all his appointments so he could stay home with me. I told him I wanted to go antiquing today. He also suggested that we go to the Desert Museum, but it’s likely going to rain, so maybe not. We agreed to go for a drive and out to eat. I’ve been wanting steak.
We ended up going to the 22nd Street Antique Mall. It was a fun adventure, as always, but very crowded. I found a few things, including a Ken doll dressed up as a not very convincing pirate. I also found some old postcards and a couple of books, including a cookbook filled with recipes from local restaurants and a calendar of African American events, plus a Jackie Wilson 45 rpm single titled “To Be Loved,” which was one of his big hits.
I found a bunch of postcards of cities and states I had been to before for just $1 apiece, plus a couple of books, a record, a bank bag and a Ken doll. Neither the clerk at the shop nor Ruben liked my little pirate, but I thought he was cute. That was the problem. He was too cute. There was no eye patch, no scars or any other blemishes anywhere on his body. A long-haired pretty boy…
At around 2:30, we then went and ate at the Longhorn Steakhouse out on Broadway just east of Craycroft. I had a porterhouse steak, salad and macaroni and cheese. Ruben chose asparagus as one of his sides. Yuck. The steak was big, but a bit dry. In hindsight, I would’ve preferred the ribeye. Oh well. Next time.
From there, we drove out to the Tucson Mall to walk off some of the food, and I bought a pair of pants, a shirt and a sweater at Dillards. Oh boy. I love buying clothes. I need to start dressing up more often. I think it’s time.
Walking in the mall usually wears me out. I think it’s the concrete flooring that does it. When we got back home, it was time to take a nap!
Throughout the day, I spent time thanking everyone individually on Facebook for their kind birthday wishes. Altogether, nearly two hundred people sent me a birthday greeting. Some friends, like Jane Cruz and Teresa Jones and my tocaya sweethearts Emily Elias and Katya Peterson (our birthdays all fall on the same day), sent me special messages, and others simply said happy birthday. It was all so overwhelming. I feel so blessed and lucky. I need to remember this day when I get to feeling blue. I really am very fortunate!
Later in the evening, Ruben went to Sprouts and bought us cake and ice cream. It was a great way to end a wonderful day.
Before I went to bed I posted a video of Rodney Crowell singing “It Ain’t Over Yet” on Facebook. I love this song because it speaks perfectly to how I feel about my life. It’s been three years now that I have been completely sober and substance-free. I finally got my act together, and life is GOOD! I am eagerly looking forward to the coming year. It is going to be a great one. I can just feel it!
Lyrics
It’s like I’m sitting at a bus stop waiting for a train Exactly how I got here is hard to explain My heart’s in the right place, what’s left of it I guess My heart ain’t the problem, it’s my mind that’s a total mess With these rickety old legs and watery eyes It’s hard to believe that I could pass for anybody’s prize Here’s what I know about the gifts that God gave You can’t take ’em with you when you go to the grave
It ain’t over yet, ask someone who ought to know Not so very long ago we were both hung out to dry It ain’t over yet, you can mark my word I don’t care what you think you heard, we’re still learning how to fly It ain’t over yet
For fools like me who were built for the chase Takes the right kind of woman to help you put it all in place It only happened once in my life, but man you should have seen Her hair two shades of foxtail red, her eyes some far out sea blue green I got caught up making a name for myself, you know what that’s about One day your ship comes rolling in and the next day it rolls right back out You can’t take for granted none of this shit The higher up you fly boys, the harder you get hit
It ain’t over yet, I’ll say this about that You can get up off the mat or you can lay there till you die It ain’t over yet, here’s the truth my friend You can’t pack it in and we both know why It ain’t over yet
Silly boys blind to get there first Think of second chances as some kind of curse I’ve known you forever and ever it’s true If you came by it easy, you wouldn’t be you Make me laugh, you make me cry, you make me forget myself
Back when down on my luck kept me up for days You were there with the right word to help me crawl out of the maze And when I almost convinced myself I was hipper than thou You stepped up with a warning shot fired sweet and low across the bow No you don’t walk on water and your sarcasm stings But the way you move through this old world sure makes a case for angel wings I was halfway to the bottom when you threw me that line I quote you now verbatim, “Get your head out of your own behind”
It ain’t over yet, what you wanna bet One more cigarette ain’t gonna send you to the grave It ain’t over yet, I’ve seen your new girlfriend Thinks you’re the living end, great big old sparkle in her eye It ain’t over yet
It’s been a great birthday. One of the best. Thank you, Ruben. I love you!
At the time I was born, my parents and five siblings all lived together in Tucson on 22nd St. in a small three bedroom house, a red brick tract home just east of the Southern Pacific railroad tracks in a subdivision called Country Club Manor, the boundaries of which were 22nd St. to 17th Street and Plumer Ave to Country Club. We lived next to a big empty lot, and had a lot of outside space in which to play. Randolph Park was nearby too. Our church was St. Ambrose Catholic Church on Tucson Blvd, just south of Broadway and our local elementary school was Robison Elementary. There were a lot of families with kids in the neighborhood. Most were either Mexican American or Anglo. It was a mixed neighborhood, and wasn’t considered a “barrio” necessarily, until later in the 1970s and 80s.
In 1959, most of my brothers and sisters were all in school, and their ages ranged from 2 to 15, with some in grade school at Robison, others at Mansfeld Jr. High and the oldest at Tucson High. The boys in the family all played sports, and were usually busy doing things outside the house. The girls were both very attractive and popular, and always had lots of friends. Boys became their focus as they moved into their teens.
My dad worked as a miner in San Manuel and mom stayed home and took care of all of us, cooking and cleaning and making sure that everything at home was in working order. Dad and mom had been together since 1943, and, after 15 years of marriage, had developed a volatile relationship and some ‘unhealthy’ habits, unfortunately, so our home life was not always peaceful, especially in the Sixties.
I was the last of the kids, and my mom kept me at her side all the time. I was a chubby child, was considered a momma’s boy and a crybaby, and everyone called me Bobby Joe, or BJ, nicknames that I have always disliked, but have learned to accept over time. While I wasn’t athletic at all, I was a smart kid. In fact, when my mom went to see my first grade teacher, Mrs. Goldbaum for her parent-teacher meeting, Mrs. Goldbaum said to her, “where did you get this one? He’s so bright!”, or something to that effect. She had also been Charles’s, Becky’s and Rudy’s first grade teachers when they attended Robison in the 50s.
Early on, I developed a love for popular music. My parents even bought me my own record player when I was 3 years old. I impressed everyone with my ability to correctly pick out a record from a stack of 45’s after being told just once what the title was. Again, I was just 3 at the time.
As the Sixties progressed, my sisters and brothers started to leave home either to get married or on to other things such as the Navy, and our family began to grow. My three nieces Belisa, Michelle and Anadine were all born in the Sixties, and I spent a lot of time with them. They were more like my sisters than my nieces because we were so close in age.
I had several close friends as a child, including Billy “Bubba” Fass, and his brother Ricky, Ernie Carrillo, and three sisters who lived next door to our family whose names were Becky, “Tiny” and Debbie Romo. There were other kids too who we played with, of course, but these were my closest friends. We spent a lot of time playing in the alley or on 21st St, where we would play flag football a lot of the time. We also spent a lot of time at St. Ambrose’s swimming pool, and at Randolph Park where we played sports. One time I planted a little rose garden with roses that my mom bought me at the local grocery store. I also had an aquarium and parakeets at one point, but over time my interest in these hobbies dwindled.
These photos and documents provide a pictorial glimpse of my life as a child in Tucson up through the middle of 1965, or the beginning of the first grade. Most of the photos are pictures taken before I was a student at Robison Elementary School. Others were taken in such places as the local park or at family gatherings. I feel fortunate that I still have them after all these years, and humbly share these treasures here with my friends and family. These photos and documents bring back many wonderful memories, as one can imagine, and I share some of them in the captions that follow.
One of my very first memories was of my sister Irene’s sweet sixteen party in November, 1959. I remember being taken to the back bedroom for a nap that afternoon, just as the party got started. I didn’t fall asleep right away. I was busy listening to the music, oldies but goodies like What’s Your Name by Don and Juan and We Belong Together by Robert and Johnny. The following song was also played.
Here’s another song I’ve been listening to my whole life. The Chubby Checker version was released in 1960.
This song was another one of the earliest I remember hearing. It was recorded way back in 1953, and unlike this version, the original features Patti singing in harmony with herself. My friend Billy Fass had the record. I just adore Patti Page. She has one of the loveliest voices I’ve ever heard. People who remember her for just this one little tune and equate her music with 50s slick pop hit parade garbage are missing the mark completely. She could swing as well as anyone, and her tone was clear as a bell.
I just had to include this song. Girls used to sing this to me. I don’t even remember who they were, but it made me embarrassed and happy at the same time. The song was released in late August, 1962.
Mr. Lonely was released in October, 1964. I loved this song.
Here’s another very sad ranchera, again, one of my mom’s favorites. I still have the 45. This song is titled, “Cancion de un Preso”, or “Song of a Prisoner”, and it’s by the great Irma Serrano, one of Mexico’s most flamboyant and expressive singers.
This tune was on Beatles VI.
Bob Dylan released “Like a Rollings Stone on July 20, 1965. Suddenly, things got more serious.
My brother Rudy had this album. So did a lot of other people. Dylan rocked the whole world with Highway 61 Revisited.
My four eldest brothers and sisters attended Robison Elementary School from 1952 to 1960. They then went on to attend Mansfeld Jr. High and Tucson High. I also attended kindergarten at St. Ambrose for one semester. Here are some of our class photos, most of them from Robison. I’ve also included some sports team and other group photos in which my siblings and I appear. My two older brothers were heavily involved in high school sports, and later became little league coaches, and my brother Fred and I played on different teams in the late 60s. These are mostly photos of kids who grew up between Plumer and Country Club from Broadway south to the railroad tracks. If you click on the picture, you’ll see a larger version of it. Click the back arrow to return to the post.
Rascón surname: Spanish (Rascón): 1. probably a habitational name from either of the places called Rascón, in Cantábria and Badajoz provinces. 2. possibly a nickname from rascón ‘sour’, ‘sharp’ or a homonym meaning ‘rail’ (the bird).
According to the book, Who’s Who of the Conqiustadors(Thomas, 2000), the surname Rascón appears in the Américas as early as 1509, in the early years of the Spanish conquest. It’s been recorded that Alonso Rascón (Fernández), possibly from Huelva, Spain, landed in the Indies in 1509, and was one of over 600 individuals who accompanied Hernan Cortés on his trip to Veracruz in 1519. Over time, according to various online genealogical sources (i.e. Ancestry.com), in the 1600s and 1700s, the surname appeared in Mexico D.F., the state of Puebla, and then later in Chihuahua and Sonora. A look at U.S. census and immigration records shows that there have been many members of the Rascón family who immigrated north to the US. over the past century. They are scattered throughout the Southwest and can be found in Texas, New Mexico, California and Arizona, as well as other parts of the country.
Growing up, I knew very little about my maternal grandfather, Donato Rascón Murrieta (1896-1937). I learned from my mother that he was part Spanish and part indio Mayo. Fair-skinned, with hazel/green eyes, tall and handsome, he was a miner by trade. He immigrated to the US in the early 20’s, landing work in Ruby and Superior. He was born deep in the Sierra in a town called Tarachi, Sonora.
My grandfather crossed the US Mexico border alone at Douglas, Az. on March 12, 1925. This card, issued by the US Immigration Service, notes that he was married to Josefa Ortega and that her address at the time was 830 S. 10th Avenue in South Tucson Az. (actually her brother Feliciano’s home). His occupation was listed as a miner. His mother, Maria Murrieta is listed as residing in Bacerac, Sonora, Mexico.
Donato Rascon’s death certificate notes that he died of cardiac decompensation, or heart failure, and that he had silicosis, which was the likely cause of the heart failure. He was 41 years old when he passed.
El Tarachi, version 1, by Los Murrieta
Tarachi, (from the Pima term: Taratzi) was originally a pre-Columbian village of “Los Pimas Bajos” or the Lower Pima people, tucked away deep in the Sierra Madre region of southeastern Sonora. The closest towns of significance are Sahuaripa, Arivechi, and Yécora. According to Flavio Molina M, author of the book Exploradores y Civilizadores de Sonora, the word taratzi means “en el pie” in Spanish or “on the foot” in English. In the Pima language, tara means “foot” in English and “pie” in Spanish, and tzi means “on” in English and “en” in Spanish. The author includes further information about Tarachi, quoting a document written in 1815 that provides details of the missions and people of the lower Pimeria region of Sonora : “Tarachi: nación Pima, se extiende 22 leguas de oriente a poniente, y diez de norte a sur; tiene agregada la iglesia del pueblo de Yécora, dista de la cebecera 20 leguas al poniente, ambas iglesias están arruinadas; el número de sus vecinos es de 64, que abrazan 300 almas, su congrua de 360, 300 de sínodo y el resto de obención”.
El Tarachi, version 2, by Gilberto Valenzuela:
According to an account given in the book, Sonora: An Intimate Geography (Yetman, 1996), in the early 20th century (and probably even before then), the people of Tarachi made their living, by among other things, cattle breeding. Ranchers from neighboring areas of Sonora would travel for days through very rough mountain terrain to purchase cattle in Tarachi. From there they would drive them back through the north and into Chihuahua.
Mining was another occupation that the men of Tarachi engaged in, as Tarachi was also the center of the “Veta Madre” or mother lode of gold in Sonora. One researcher noted that during the California gold rush, many of the men of Tarachi left to seek their fortunes there. The same researcher points to this as proof that the famous California bandit, Joaquin Murrieta, was from Tarachi, rather than Trincheras, Sonora as many believe. Joaquin Murrieta was also described as fair-skinned with blue eyes. According to this source, “all of the Murrietas of Tarachi, to this day, are fair skinned with fair hair and most of them have blue eyes”. To further the argument, this source notes that 3 Finger Jack, Joaquin’s sidekick, was named Manuel Duarte. He points out that “there are no Duartes in Trincheras, but the name is still very prevalent in Tarachi and the Sonoran Sierra region”. It could be I’m related to Joaquin Murrieta! (*note: the sources I have quoted in this paragraph are participants in various online genealogical discussion boards, usually members of the Rascón family who study and trace their family history).
Here’s El Corrido de Joaquin Murrieta, performed by Los Madrugadores.
Over the years, the search for gold in Tarachi was big news.
Most recently, the search for gold in the region has become a serious enterprise.
Every May 15, during the feast day of San Isidro, a huge gathering takes place in Tarachi where everyone with the last names Gamez, Murrieta, Rascón, Treviño, and Ocaña all return to visit those relatives that have remained. For more information about Tarachi today, see the article (in Spanish) by Randulfo Ortega Moroyoqui, “Datos de Tarachi.”
I have since learned a great deal more about my grandfather Donato and his family. His parents (my great grandparents) were Loreto Rascón Bermudes (born in ca.1870 in Tarachi) and Maria Murrieta Ocaña. They were both from Tarachi.
I have also recently learned that my great grandfather Loreto’s parents (my great, great grandparents) names were Crisanto Rascon Rivera, (born in 1845, died in 1905 in Tarachi), and Concepcion Bermudes Apodaca. They were married on February 1869 in Sahuaripa, Sonora.
Crisanto’s parents (my great, great, great grandparents) were Honorato Rascon (born in 1815 in Tarachi) and Juana Rivera. Their children included Juan Jose Rascon (b.1834), Romulo Rascon (b.1828), Maria del Refugio Rascon (b.1844) and Manuel Rascon (b.1856).
Concepcion’s parents (also my great, great, great grandparents) were Juan Bermudes and Maria de Jesus Apodaca.
My maternal grandfather Donato’s grandparents (my great, great grandparents) on his mother’s side–the Murrieta branch of the family were: Blas Murrieta and Maria Ocaña Bermúdez. Blas was born around 1832. He died at the age of 87 on April 21, 1919. He married Maria in Sahuaripa on April 10, 1866. They had the following children: Maria Murrieta Ocaña (my great grandmother), and her siblings Guilebaldo, Antonio, Cruz, Mercedes (1870-1974), Maria de Jesus, Isidro, Enrique, Juan Antonio and Lina.
Blas’s parents, my great, great, great grandparents were D. Jesus Murrieta and Da. Ana Robles. In addition to Blas, they had several other children , including Froilan, Trinidad, and Maria Jesus.
My great grandmother Maria Murrieta Ocaña and my great grandfather Loreto Rascón were married sometime in the early 1890’s, While I am still gathering information about them, at this point I know from looking at border crossing records that Loreto had a brother named Manuel whom he visited in Tucson, Az. in 1925. Loreto also crossed the border several times in the twenties (12/17/1923; 10/17/1925; 7/7/1928; and 2/20/1929), to visit his children living in the U.S. One of these records (see below) indicates that Loreto was born in Moctezuma, Sonora (near the vicinity of Sahuaripa), but other records contradict that and state that he was born in Tarachi, Sonora. These same records state that Loreto and his family sometimes lived apart and moved around a lot, I imagine to find work. For example, a March 1925 border crossing record indicates that Maria was living in Bacerac. By December of the same year, on yet another record, she is listed as living in Bavispe, while at the same time Loreto is listed as living in Cananea. By the 30s, they lived in Bavispe again. Another record from the 30’s indicates that they lived in Huachinera, Sonora. All of these towns are in the Sierra on the far eastern edge of the state of Sonora and work there consists of farming, ranching and mining.
Those of Loreto’s and Maria’s children who moved to the US included Carolina, Olivia, Aurelia (1892-1987), Francisco and my grandfather Donato. Carolina, Francisco and Donato lived in Superior, Arizona in the mid-20’s and 30’s. Aurelia may have lived in Tucson for a while and Olivia lived in the San Diego area. I am not certain of this but I believe that Raul, Crisantos, David, and Isabel all remained in Sonora. The census for 1930 below notes that there were two more children in the family, Rafael and Maria.
I only know a little bit about about my grandfather’s siblings, and only met one of them, Francisco.
Here is what I’ve been able to learn to date:
Aurelia Rascón (born on September 29, 1892, died Nov. 1987). Resided in Tucson Az. at the time of her death. She was one of the two of the Rascón sisters my own sister Irene remembers meeting as a child, and she probably lived with or near my great aunt Olivia at one point somewhere near the California-Mexico border region. My sister remembers them to be “big-boned” ladies. I also remember going with my mom to a house on Grande Avenue in the Menlo Park neighborhood once, to visit one of my mom’s cousins who was in town visiting from Chula Vista. I believe she was my mother’s tia Olivia’s daughter and that she was visiting Aurelia.
Raul Rascón (c.1893-?). Crossed the US Mexico border at Douglas, Az. on November 25, 1922, and was accompanied by his brother David. One of the most intriguing stories I’ve heard about this branch of my family is about Raul. According to one of my cousins from Mexico, Raul was close friends with the mayor of San Miguel de Bavispe, Pablo Machichi, who had been a Carranzista in the Revolution and who later sided with the Cristeros. Machichi led a rebellion against the Mexican government in the late 20’s, and my great uncle Raul was killed either by other Machichi loyalists or by the federales for having revealed Machichi’s whereabouts. Machichi hid in the sierra and led a battle at a place called Huachinera. Here’s a corrido written about him. It gives a lot of detail about who he was and what he fought for.
Francisco Murrieta Rascón: Born on August 6, 1898. Died December 1985. I remember my mom’s uncle Francisco very well. He was very tall. He used to visit our house quite often, and when he was in town he would usually stay at the Santa Rita Hotel. He worked in Superior, Az. as a miner for many years, and was married to a woman named Maria Celida Federico (1905-1951), who died of breast cancer at the age of 46. He lived for many years in a convalescent home in Florence. He was a very tall, but gentle man. I liked him.
Isabel Rascón Gamez
I know very little about my great aunt Isabel (seated with one of her sons between her husband and other children), except that she was married to Manuel Maria Gamez and that they had at least six children. The writing on the back of the photo on the left indicates that it was taken in Tarachi and signed on April 12, 1937. Other information I have gathered indicates that Manuel Maria Gamez, Isabel’s husband, was born c.1895 in Tarachi, that he crossed the US Mexico border at least twice (on 2/15/24 and 2/23/26) and that had a brother named Alfonso Gamez. I have also found a death certificate for Manuel Gamez Jr, (probably the boy standing on the right). It states that he was born in Tarachi Sonora, on May 39, 1923 and that he died on January 3, 2004 in Esperanza, Sonora.
David Rascón (c. 1899-?) He crossed the US Mexican border several times: November 25, 1922 (at this point his residence is listed as Huachinera, Sonora, Mexico), November 5 and 6, 1923. He was married to Onofre Murrieta Bermudez. The postcard below was written to his brother David by my grandfather Donato. The picture on the other side is of my mother and her brother during their First Holy Communion (see below).
Carolina Rascon Moreno
I also know that my mother’s tia Carolina (b. 4/15/1902) was medium complected and had brown hair and brown eyes, and a small mole on her right cheek. She married a man from Bavispe, Sonora named Francisco Moreno and they lived in Superior Az at the same time my grandparents were there. My mom often spoke very fondly of her cousins, the Moreno children: Frank, Ricardo, Ismael (Miley), Teresa (Teddie) and Carolina. Their mother Carolina crossed the border several times, including on the following dates: 01/10/1946, 9/30/1947, 12/03/1950 and 08/06/1951.
Crisanto Rascón Born in Tarachi in 1906. Crossed the US Mexico border on July 1, 1935. His departure contact was his father Loreto Rascón. His residence is listed as San Miguelito, Sonora Mexico.
Olivia Rascón (c.1907-?) She married a man named Luis Flores. She also had a son named Luis. She crossed the US Mexico border at least twice, (7/1/1928 and 11/28/1949). She moved to California and settled there. When I was a kid, one of her daughters came to visit Tucson, and she came to our house. I remember she had a little girl with her and that she and I became friends. She taught me some Spanish and it was the first time I felt I could communicate with someone in that language.
My grandfather met my grandmother Josefa Ortega, while working in the Arivaca region of southern Arizona at the “Bluebird Mine”. They were married in Tucson, Arizona on July 9, 1923.
It’s been recorded that in 1925, they were living at 830 S. 10th, Ave. in Tucson, probably with Josefa’s brother Chano or her mother, Carmen. Shortly thereafter, they moved to Superior, Az, where he worked for the Magma Copper Company.
They had five children: My mother Josephine, Eduardo, Dora, Donato Jr. and Mary. My mom, the oldest of my grandparent’s children, adored her father. She would often talk about him, sharing her memories and stories with us. She would always be sure to say that he would often buy her new clothes, making her the happiest girl in Superior. She also remembered those times when she would have to go get my grandfather and bring him home from the local watering hole, a place that miners often went after work and in their spare time. While he spent most of his working years in Superior, according to the 1930 US census, my grandfather and his brother Francisco worked at the Montana Camp, a gold mine near Ruby Arizona. The original census document notes that my grandfather was a foreman in the mine and his brother Francisco a laborer.
Also, my uncle Donato was born in Silverbell, Az, just northwest of Tucson, so the family must have moved around some. By 1932, the family was back in Superior, as my Aunt Mary was born there on December 18, 1932.
In 1936, my grandfather became ill with pnuemonia and was bed ridden for about a year. His wife Josefa and sister Carolina took turns taking care of him. There is a story that my father tells about my grandfather that is very interesting, as it took place in 1937, well before my mom and dad had met. According to the story, my grandfather and his family were living in the back room of a restaurant that had a jukebox. One day, my dad, who was about 17 at the time, went in and took out some change to play the song “Zenaida”. He was quickly admonished by others not to play the music because there was a man in the back room dying, and he shouldn’t be disturbed. That man was my grandfather Donato, and the story goes that he said to tell my dad to go ahead and play the music. He wanted to hear it too, even as he was dying. He passed away on December 12, 1937 at the age of 41, and is buried in Superior, Az.. He left behind his wife, Josefa, and their five children, Josefina (my mother), Eduardo, Dora, Donato Jr., and Maria.