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I do persist,

      and in promotions I believe;

      today cruel fate

      may show me his black shoulder,

      yet instead of being less trustful,

      I am all the more hopeful.

      At times I think of flinging

      my eternal “I quit”

      in the faces of the cursed

      feather duster and perfidious broom!

      And yet if all is in vain,

      if I have no exit hence,

      if the bill collectors

      finish me off,

      what else do they ask

      that I do in such a circumstance?

      Here we see an account of Facundo’s economic situation, which was that of all of his family, as well as the majority of the incipient middle class in Sonora. That class got by on stoic hope — a feature of Northern Mexico’s Protestant-like ethic, which insisted that hard work would eventually lead to material results. This poem bears proof of Facundo’s poetic skill and sense of humor, his empathy for his fellow citizens, and his tendency to use — and ironize — his own life experiences as subject matter. Thanks to this poem, Facundo obtained his own promotion:

      And I who so attempted

      to earn a decent wage,

      then sport a good suit

      and lavish gifts on my sweetheart,

      even just by saving what “Smith” charges

      for fees, well… I could

      pay what’s needed to those

      necessary, despite a month

      of being unemployed…

      How sweet it would be

      to live while preying

      on a juicier paycheck;

      The English pleased,

      I, always, satisfied,

      without seeking their bosses,

      saying, in spite,

      I have only a few days left,

      for the love of the God.

      Just realize how exquisite

      these brief hours of life prove,

      how beautiful proves existence

      with a job like that,

      and I dreamed of such

      “oh, deceitful fate,” and,

      while maddened, I would think

      (my soul trembling),

      I would think of making myself old,

      here, just for now.

      Lord knows

      that was my most splendid dream,

      my glowing hope,

      my bliss and pleasure;

      God well knows it was not in vain

      that I pinned my efforts

      (I say this although they

      smash my soul with a log)

      on how to live bare-bones

      just like I did yesterday.

      That was my hope…

      Oh, Seductive Open Positions,

      scant help

      exists between you two;

      Adieu

      My Benefactors,

      Feather Duster and Shower Stall, and My Broom: Adieu.

      Facundo’s readiness to address the social life of his community — principally that of Hermosillo — is also characteristic of his poetry. His poems do not keep a safe distance from popular culture; instead, they are almanacs of that culture. Within them, one encounters scandalous gossip, prejudices, and the major and minor struggles of the population residing in northern Mexico. Facundo’s poetry functions as a chronicle documenting the social transformations of his time, written from the perspective of a fellow citizen who relies on humor as a defense against disaster and injustice.

      A poem like the “Ice Skaters,” written in 1912, perfectly captures Facundo’s capacity to blend genuine sentiment with irony. It recounts events that would regularly take place on Sundays in the corridors of the Colegio Sonora, where young couples would gather to ice skate and dance. The piece reads like a less heroic version of Rubén Darío’s “Marcha triunfal” (1905), yet it brims with the same optimism and joy at the sight of a young northern woman dancing:

      With their hickish squires

      the Queens of the Fiesta

      parade down the corridors…

      The chords of the orchestra resound

      as they embark on the sweetest and slowest waltz;

      they come to the dance; and to me

      they seem to be exquisite pullets,

      fresh rose petals shivering,

      ruffled by the wind.

      The squires swirl

      while dancing

      and utter amorous phrases,

      glistening things

      like set jewels,

      diamonds and sapphires;

      and their gazes are enveloped

      in the honey of sighs,

      and in the light of hope.

      While a couple passes by me,

      a voice reaches my ear,

      an aching voice

      moaning about

      absence and oblivion.

      Sweet Argentine voices,

      fresh laughter of sopranos;

      a stirring of colors

      in the silk of skirt and bodice;

      and a tear that rolls

      down the snow-and-rose-colored mien

      of a gorgeous damsel

      who has buried her love.

      When the Revolution of Francisco I. Madero (1873-1913) brought an end to the reign of the dictator Don Porfirio Díaz (1830-1915) in 1910, dances and ice skating became things of the past for most Mexicans, but life in Sonora remained more or less unchanged until 1913. Still, the more progressive sectors of Sonoran society viewed Madero’s government, though not Madero himself, as less revolutionary then they had hoped for, and friendlier to those who still supported Porfirio Díaz than to those who had fought for a democratic regime. That disillusionment was further increased by the Orozco rebellion, which erupted in Chihuahua and reached Sonora by the middle of 1912 as the war against the Yaquis — the cause of, or excuse for, countless atrocities. Add to that the serious problems plaguing the regime of José María Maytorena (1867-1948), then Governor of Sonora, with various municipalities seeking ever greater autonomy.

      At the age of 30, Facundo Bernal was one of the most combative journalists in Mexico. He published his own newspaper, Rey Momo, a name taken from the character in carnivals who represented happiness and festivity. It was in this newspaper that, in 1913, Facundo baptized Rosendo Rosado, then Secretary of the Sonoran Government, as “Cat with Neck,” a nickname that would hound the politico until the end of his life, and which

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