Tencha Avila’s 80th Birthday

Description: Tencha Avila is presented with her picture as drum major at Las Animas High School in 1956. (Photo Credit: Bette McFarren)

Tencha Avila’s 80th Birthday Celebrated

By: Bette McFarren 

Judy Thomeczek of Las Animas snaps a picture of Tencha Avila at her 80th birthday party in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Avila’s son, Christopher Friedenberger, serves as Master of Ceremonies and lets the guests in on the secret that this celebration was meant to happen last year, but COVID interfered. Left to right, Tencha Avila, sister Roberta Avila, and son, Friedenberger.

Tencha Avila is known locally for her play “No Number Home,” produced in a somewhat challenging manner at Otero Junior College under the direction of Steve Simpson a number of years ago. The original teacher who invited her to do the play was RuAnn Keith. The lead actor could not remember his lines and backed out at the last minute, so his part had to be read.

Nevertheless, the play was a touching tribute to her fully assimilated immigrant family. A young soldier during World War II goes AWOL to be with his family at Christmas in the company colony for the sugar beet company near Las Animas. None of the homes had a number. The families, torn between keeping him out of trouble and being good American citizens, see that the military police are circling, but do the right thing in the end. My personal Obie would go to the military police.

“No Number Home” was produced year before last at the Santa Fe Theater with the full accompaniments: actors who were accomplished and learned all their lines, props, scenery (OJC actually had a very good scenery backdrop). The Santa Fe production ran all its nights to full houses.

Avila writes about what it is like to emigrate to a new country. She writes with all her heart.

People listen with all their hearts. David Martz, a classmate now a physician in Colorado Springs, gave one of many tributes at the small patio party in her honor. “I prefer modeling rather than a soap box for helping people overcome prejudice,” he said.

Dr. David Martz and wife, Bea, of Colorado Springs, as Dr. Martz tells the guests at Tencha Avila’s birthday party how she came to be recognized as the drum major at Las Animas High School in 1956.

Martz was first chair trumpet in the Las Animas High School Band in 1956. Tencha, who was known to him as Mona in those days, had been a cheer leader all through high school, played French horn in the band, and was an ace twirler. The band director and the principal had decided to leave her name off the list of candidates for the honor of leading the 92 piece Las Animas High School band. Marks was also the leader of the band kids. He simply let the administration know that if Avila was not a candidate, the school would be lacking all of its first chair band performers. Avila was elected overwhelmingly.

The party was MC’d by Avila’s son, Christopher Friedenberger, who let the guests in on a secret early in the festivities: this party had been planned to happen last year, but had to be postponed because of COVID restrictions. Avila was actually 80 last year on May 22.

Many spoke of their experiences with Avila. One of the speakers, Jim, who also lives at Quail Run, the retirement community where the couple lives and the site of the party, gave the guests a glimpse of day-to-day life. Tencha’s car is sometimes stubborn about starting, and she can’t set the clamps on the jumper cables, so Jim does the job. He always crosses his fingers she has some help on the other end of her journey.

The Tom Rheam Jazz Trio Plus furnished the old time jazz numbers for the dancing at Tencha Avila’s 80th birthday party (a year and a half late because of COVID). Rheam’s group, formerly known as the Santa Fe Chiles, a dixieland band, played from 8 p.m. until a half hour after scheduled time, 10 p.m., the songs we all know: “Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans?” “Sweet Georgia Brown,” etc., ending with a medley starting with “Won’t You Come Home, Bill Bailey” and finishing with “Saints Go Marching In.” (Tom Rheams on piano and trumpet, others on drums (hidden behind portico), young banjo player and lead singer, stand-up bass, formidable saxophonist).

Avila’s second husband, Tom Freidenberger, is in poor health, but was wheeled out into the large paved commons area at the retirement condos where they now live. He was able to enjoy the greetings of old friends and the jazz music from Tom Rheams and his five piece jazz band along with the rest of the family and friends. The New Orleans-style jazz, starting with “Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orlean?” kept playing about a half hour longer than the original 8 p.m. to 10 p.m. time, because there was so much dancing, visiting, and a little singing along. It closed with “Won’t You Come Home, Bill Bailey,” morphing into, of course, “When the Saints Go Marching In.”

She remembers her mother, working endlessly at many jobs, and her father, keeping the spirit of music and poetry alive at La Colonia.

Marcelino Avila, one of Tencha’s brothers (there were twelve children in all), sent this poem, “Tenchita,” to be read. It begins:

IT’S TENCHA TIME IN LA COLONIA,

THE COLONY THAT WAS HER FAMILIES HOME SO MANY YEARS AGO

RUNNING ON SHORT LEGS

SHE DANCED WITH THE WIND IN SWEET ALPHALPHA FIELDS

DREAMING AND DANCING.

LATER SHE WAS CAPTURED IN TIME

AS THE DRUM MAJORETTE AND CHEERLEADER

FOR THE TROJAN FOOTBALL TEAM

ALSO FOR THE MANY CAUSES

THAT WOULD COME HER WAY

EDUCATION, FARMWORKERS, WOMENS,

CULTURAL AND HUMAN RIGHTS

AND MANY MORE

SHE SOON FOUND HER VOICE AND HER OTHER DANCES

SHE WAS A MOTHER, GRANDMOTHER..WIFE,

TEACHER, WRITER, DREAMER

TO MORE THAN HER IMMEDIATE CIRCLE

SOME SAY THAT ONE NIGHT

SHE KICKED OFF HER SHOES

AND DANCED WITH THE MOON

FOR HOURS IT SEEMED

RISING HIGH ABOVE THE CLOUDS

TURNING IN A AZTEC-MEXICAN

COMBO OF INTRICATE STEPS

IN TIME WITH A DRUM

THAT ONLY SHE COULD UNDERSTAND

AT LAST SHE LANDED

EMBRACING MOTHER EARTH AGAIN

AND BEGAN FURIOUSLY WRITING

MY HISTORY..YOURS AND PERHAPS THEIRS

CAPTURING THE WIND AND SONG

OF SO MANY YEARS GONE BY

AND STILL LATE AT NIGHT SHE WATCHES THE MOON

WONDERING WHEN THEY WILL DANCE AGAIN TOGETHER

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