Stuffed sopaipillas Christmas style, the view of the Sangre de Cristos from La Bajada, the smell of the piñon trees after a summer rain, the flickering leaves of the aspens in spring, snowball fights on the plaza, crashing X-mas mass at St Francis, carnitas from Roque’s, Frito pies and foosball at Rob and Charlie’s, family, kiva fire places, farolitos, and luminarias:

Those are only a few of the richly textured experiences carved into the nueral pathways of my impressionable young mind growing up in Santa Fe in the 1970s and 1980s. No matter where I travel or where I live, New Mexico is always in my heart and I long to return.

The first joke I remember learning was:

Q: “What do you have when you have one piñon in your left hand and two piñones in your right hand?”

“A: A difference of a piñon”

This joke became part of my consciousness and on constant repeat in my mind. It jumps into my head randomly and makes me smile every time, regardless of the circumstances. In some of the hardest times in life, I would say to myself “A difference of a piñon” and I would immediately be lifted.

This phrase has come to encapsulate the unique experience that is New Mexico.  So I say, what is the difference between New Mexico and the rest of the world? The answer is, a piñon.