After nearly thirty years living in a remote New Mexico village, Charlotte Plantz (aka Claudia Clavel) had a prodigious collection of stories to tell. During that time I was a frequent visitor to Mike and Charlotte’s adobe home and heard the stories as they happened.
The initial question of course is how do a couple of Anglo artists from California fit into a traditional Spanish village? Many small social signals are given when people are getting to know each other.
Charlotte laughs when she says her neighbors must have figured she and Mike were okay when they had huge shouting matches in their yard. (This was during their early years there, when money was tight and many survival decisions had to be made as they worked nonstop to make their small adobe house livable.) “They heard us fighting and must have decided we were normal people!” she says.
In the early colonial days, life in these N.M. villages was really hard. Today, some of the problems have changed, but life remains hard. In the modern era, Spanish settlers and Native Americans were no longer waging gun battles over territory, but many small land holders lost their land to unscrupulous Anglos who knew how to work the new U.S. legal system. Poverty, alcohol and drug abuse, and other ills followed.
Charlotte and Mike got to know the village’s families as babies were born, grew up, and had children of their own. While hosting their own grandsons during the summers, Mike and Charlotte offered village kids acceptance and new experiences, such as tasting Romaine lettuce for the first time and swimming in the Blue Hole in Santa Rosa. They hired locals for construction projects at their home, realizing these men had artistic and craft skills that the wider world had overlooked.
For many months, Charlotte agonized over whether to publish Accidental Anthropologists, even though she’d changed all the names. Finally she sat down with some neighbors and read the book aloud to them.
“Have I gone too far?” she asked.
The response from “Perfecto”: “I tell the same kind of stories when our family gathers. I want my children and grandchildren to know this is the way life is here. It’s part of our culture.”
And “Pilar” said: “I could listen to your stories all day. This was better than watching a telenovela.”
(Disclaimer: I edited early versions of both books.)
Accidental Anthropologists was published in 2014 and continues to sell steadily, especially in N.M. bookstores. Why do you think it's so resilient?
Charlotte: The feedback I continue to receive comes from the fact that it is the only book written about a specific time frame that includes Vietnam vets and their relationship with their neighbors in a Spanish Northern New Mexico village.
Ramona: I know you've gotten some unexpected responses from readers far and wide. Do you want to share any?
Charlotte: A number of readers have found their way to my door, in spite of my changing the names of people and places, including my pseudonym as author. A San Diego couple emailed via my publisher to ask about place names. They were connecting mileage to cities and villages, to no avail. We began a correspondence. The couple flew out to meet me and we became friends. The Pfaffs visit twice a year, timed around Las Vegas cultural events.
A recent couple found me via my acupuncturist, who has bought around 30 books to give to clients. By now, I’ve agreed to meet folks who enjoy Accidental Anthropologists because I’m curious to know what they have to say about it.
One of my favorite stories is Chapter 10, “It took a village,” in which you describe how people go up to the cemetery on the hill when they need a break from their problems. Do you think they might be connecting with their ancestors there?
I also loved reading about how you drove in circles around the church as various people approached to find out why you were distraught. Do you want to say anything more about that experience?
Charlotte: The people here stay very connected to those who have passed on. I’m pretty sure parking at the cemetery has that connection. Over the years, Mike and I have experienced the same feeling. We lost all the “drinkers,” and they rest in peace in the little campo santo, so we continue to feel their presence whenever we are near there.
Times have changed in the village. We have lost so many neighbors it’s hard to imagine I would have that same experience (driving around the church). Though those of us who remain still care for one another.
You and Mike faced some pretty scary situations over the years. Do you think fearlessness is necessary in order to be accepted in a different culture?
Charlotte: The biggest change for us came early on, when I stormed the village over an ugly rumor that I was on the “take” from a movie company. I knocked on every door in the village and gave a frantic speech about honesty. From that day forward my neighbors nearly bowed when they met me; I had everyone’s respect for standing up to gossip. The people here have great respect for fearlessness. I continue to wear that like a shawl!
Accidental Anthropologists opened my eyes to how our society judges disadvantaged people so harshly. For example, I saw how easy it is to get on the wrong side of the law enforcement and legal structure if you’re poor. Do you want to say anything about this?
Charlotte: Landing in the middle of a group of Vietnam vets with drug and alcohol problems touched the core of my being. I have always been sympathetic to down-trodden folks so it was natural for me to interact. The “drinkers” made it easy for us, as they respected our privacy and space. They knew we couldn’t enter their world of self-medication, and were grateful for our respect as human beings. They were hard workers and helped us in a number of ways throughout the years. We feel privileged to have been a part of their lives.
Has life in San Ignacio changed for you since Accidental Anthropologists was published? Are you happy you used a pseudonym?
Charlotte: I am happy I used a pseudonym for a couple of reasons: I was so insecure as an “author” I had a hard time writing my name over and over. The minute I changed my name to Claudia, my brain opened up and words flew out of me. My new name gave me distance and allowed me to feel free to write whatever came out of my head.
The other reason the pseudonym worked for me had to do with the village and our neighbors. I did not want to bring attention to San Ignacio or myself. I was pretty sure readers would be checking us out, and that proved to be true. I can’t tell you how many readers have told me they drove around villages trying to figure out where the story took place.
Someone in the real San Ignacio, north of Las Vegas, told a friend that people knocked on doors there asking about the book.
Me and My Magical Life begins with your life before you arrived in San Ignacio. A lot of people throw off the conventional life, but many of them crash and burn. You, on the other hand, discovered your true calling as an artist and have thrived. What was the hardest thing you ever had to do?
Charlotte: The hardest thing was to walk out the door of my old life. If it hadn’t been for my daughters, and Mike and Murray (a close friend), and the Abeyta family, I’m not sure I would have succeeded. Although, survival is a powerful force, so who knows how it might have played out.
Did you wrestle a lot with what to tell and what to leave out of Me and My Magical Life?
Charlotte: I probably have enough untold stories to fill another book. I often wake up with that thought. It was easy to leave out negativity, and sometimes too much information. With both books I automatically wrote a chapter of equal length every time I sat down to write. It was like automatic writing, and self-editing. Very strange!
Writing Me and My Magical Life was a wonderful experience. I felt free to use my own name, and those of my friends and family. I felt like I had things to say of importance: mental health, women’s rights, belief in oneself. I hoped my book would be inspiring and educational. Most of all, I now trust the subconscious part of my brain completely. From that place, all the connections came together.
I’m about to start another book: My Two Felons and a Misdemeanor. This book will tell the stories of our three grandsons and how they got into trouble, and how they found their way out. The three of them are doing well and finding success in their lives. It’s a story worth telling.
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Accidental Anthropologists and Me and My Magical Life are available at Tome on the Range in Las Vegas, N.M., and on Amazon.