Memories of Nana and Tata

Experiences and memories from our past shape who we become and serve to establish a foundation for future generations.  A child who takes his or her first steps is encouraged by the family, and each step is a beginning toward becoming a confident, well-adjusted human being.  In constructing a building, a sound foundation is essential to prevent the structure from collapsing.  Nana and Tata created that firm foundation for us.  Everyone was equally special in their eyes, and each of us felt that.  Memories of camping trips, Easter Sunday rides to the desert, family parties with live music and delicious food, and going hunting with Tata are some of the fun memories that I hold dear.  Nana and Tata instilled in us the importance of hard work and the value of a dollar, which are essential to a happy successful life.

Nana and Tata
When you’re a kid, the world feels huge — and at Nana and Tata’s place, it might as well have been Disneyland. Their backyard felt endless, like we had the whole world tucked behind that house. During the summer, it was mostly me and my cousin AK out there — riding our bikes down to the Moose Lodge, coming back sweaty, covered in grass, and ready to play until the sun disappeared. One minute we were ballplayers, the next we were reenacting Red Dawn out back up the “mountain,” or playing soccer, or sometimes cops and gangsters — it just depended on the day. We were just the next in a long line of cousins who grew up running wild on that same property, each generation leaving its own set of footprints in the dirt.

Tata ran the outside like it was his own little kingdom. You could always find him out there doing something — watering, raking, trimming, fixing whatever didn’t really need fixing. The radio was always nearby, tuned to the Padres game, with Jerry Coleman’s voice floating through the air — the sound of summer. That’s where I caught the bug, the lifelong curse of being a Padres fan. I didn’t stand a chance.

We’d be out there tearing across the yard, yelling like we were at Jack Murphy Stadium. Tata would look over, shake his head, grin, and let out that quiet chuckle, then he’d go right back to whatever he was doing — steady, focused, and somehow keeping an eye on everything without ever saying much.

Inside, Nana was a whole different kind of magic. She had the sweetest voice, the softest laugh, and this calm, mellow grace that made everything feel right in the world. She didn’t need to say much — her presence did the talking. You could feel it the second you stepped inside that house.

The family was — and still is — huge. There were always people coming and going, stories being told, kids growing up and starting families of their own. We weren’t all together all the time, but Christmas Eve at Fifi and Uncle Gordon's was the one night it felt like the whole world showed up. It didn’t matter how big the family got — somehow there was always room for everyone.

Those were the days — bikes, baseball, Padres on the radio, and the unmistakable smell of Escondido summers — that warm mix of dirt, and citrus drifting through the Jesmond Dene air. Just family, laughter, and that simple kind of love that doesn’t need explaining. The days that made me who I am, and the ones I’ll never forget.

When my sons, Marcellus and Moises, were born in 1996, they became the first great-great-grandsons and the start of the fifth generation. For a moment in time, our family had five generations alive together — a living chain of love, work, and grit that stretched decades deep. You don’t see that often, and it says everything about this family’s strength and roots.

My Nana, Ernestine “Tina” Rodriguez, and my mom, Sandra Gibson, have done an incredible job carrying on those family traditions. They’re two of the sweetest, most genuine people you’ll ever meet — They’ve kept that same spirit of love, patience, and kindness that started with Nana and Tata. Their foundation — the way they love, laugh, and care for people — is a huge part of what’s inspired me to be family-oriented and grounded. Because of them, I’ve built that same kind of love in my own life, married to my wife, Jennifer, for over 25 years and still going strong. I try to follow their lead — to move through life with respect, humor, and love — and to pass that same spirit down to my own kids.If I could be so blessed as they were with family!

Each generation should keep getting better — stronger, wiser, and more loving — but never forget where we came from. For us, that means always remembering our roots in Escondido, California, up in the Jesmond Dene area where Nana and Tata’s property stood, and where so many of our best memories were made. That hill, that yard, that view — it’s where the story of who we are took place.

And Aunt Ruthie — hats off to you for keeping all of this alive. You’re the glue that holds our history together, making sure these stories and the people behind them never fade. Jerry Coleman might’ve been the voice of the Padres, but you’re the voice of this family.




I wanted to share some of my favorite memories of Big Tata, Big Nana, and our family. My name is Daniel J. Morones, the eldest grandson of Ester Minjares Morones and the son of "Danny Morones." I will never forget Big Tata’s distinct, raspy voice greeting my dad every time we visited the houses on the hill in Jesmond Dene. My memories there go back to when I was only four or five years old, circa 1980, and continued well into my young adulthood.

I fondly remember Big Nana always cooking incredible Mexican dishes while Big Tata worked on projects in the yard with a cold beer in hand. Our holidays and family celebrations were unforgettable. Between the live music, DJs, and Mariachis playing rock and roll and country, the dance floor was always full and we never had to worry about the volume.

Spending time with my cousins was a highlight of my childhood. I always looked up to my older cousins, including Gordy, Jimmy, Mark, Laura, and Lisa. We had so much fun playing kickball, football, and hide-and-seek in the field next to Auntie Fifi and Uncle Gordon’s house.

The laughter and the family at Tata's place on the hill made those years truly special.

With Love,

Big Nana and Big Tata Minjares, we as a family were so lucky to have them in our lives. Growing up and all the memories of huge family parties up on the hill with so much room for us kids to get dirty, roam and bond. All while the adults were dancing and having fun combined with great food. 

I now realize how special those times were, making it a point to get the family together is what Nana Tata were so good at and knew how important that was. 

Big Tata was always happy to see me and would say “Gregorio” in a strong deep voice and that made me feel special. We would go into his sheds and see all the rattles from the snakes he had killed. A quiet but strong man is how I remember him. 

Big Nana, made the home always feel welcome, something always cooking on the stove. Her smile was so true and genuine, made everyone feel welcome. 

Christmas Eve forever, was the family tradition to go and spend time as a family. They made a point to make sure every one of us great grandchildren had something to open on that night. 
Great people that set an amazing example for their big lineage.

Memories of My Nana and Tata

So many wonderful memories that helped shape my life—Best grandparents ever!!!!

Tata was a man of few words, but he loved all his family.  He may not have expressed “I love you”, but no doubt he loved with all his heart. “Never mind the weather” was one of his love languages.  Spending a weekend day at their house was always welcomed and I couldn’t wait to go down the hills on the GoCarts he made for us to enjoy.   One memory  that warms my heart when if think about it is when we were riding in his truck—I think we went to see where a fire was located and as he was driving us back to their house, the radio was on and The Doors “Hello, I love You” was playing and the end of the song repeats hello (about 15 times) and each time they said it he would yell Hello back—well that was as we were driving on Center City Parkway and turning onto Ivy Del (the 120 degree turn) and we slid all the way over to him as he kept singing Hello back—we all laughed so hard—Tata was so funny and happy.  Each time I think of that happy memory, I have happy tears. The stories could go on and on—he walked me down the aisle when I got married.  I love him so much and will always miss him.

Nana—the true Matriarch of our family.  So many memories, don’t know where to begin. Again she loved us all so much and we all loved her so much.  When I think about my Nana, remembering her laughter lights up my heart; She was so good at finding solutions to any issues; she was a strong woman, especially for her time; she made such wonderful meals, desserts; made sure all her grandchildren had a Christmas gift (all 23 of us)—loved the slippers she knitted for us; loved watching her dance with Tata at parties; she gave so much to everyone out of great love for us all; she loved to go on new adventures—especially remember our trip to Catalina Island –Nana, my mom, Barbara and I shared a room—she could snore with the best of them when one day she woke up all h

Growing up next door to my Nana and Tata, in the hills of Escondido, we were always vigilant about the threat of wildfires. Anytime we saw smoke in the air or the tankers flying overhead, my Tata wouldn’t even have to ask. He would say, “Let’s go see.” Every time I climbed into that old tan truck, I knew we were going on an adventure. We rarely talked, but I always looked forward to sitting in that truck with him, just the two of us. We would park far out of the way and watch the firefighters hike up the hill or the tankers drop retardant. He was likely assessing the threat to our homes while I was captivated by all the excitement and activity. 

Ten years later, I was hired by the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection. I was still enamored with all the excitement, but now I was the one hiking up the hill. I often thought that while I was on the side of that hill, some little boy or girl was sitting with their grandparents, watching us and making their own incredible memories. 

In 2024, I retired after thirty years of fighting fires. Throughout my career, I responded to hundreds of fires and rendered aid to thousands of people. Many people have asked, but few know that I owe the opportunity to help all those people to my Tata, saying, “Let’s go see.”

My Nana was an incredible cook. Even though I had to pick the olives out of her tamales, nothing could compare to them. Every party or gathering we had was filled with the most amazing food I have ever tasted. Whenever she made frybread, there would be a line of my siblings and cousins anxiously waiting for the next piece.
Years later, while in college, I had an assignment to research and prepare a meal from another culture. I didn’t know what to cook, but I knew my Nana would be the one to help me.

I asked her if she had an authentic recipe that I could use. She said she didn’t have any recipes, but I was welcome to come over, and she would show me how to cook something. She chose a dish she learned to make from her mother, nopales. My Tata helped me collect the cactus paddles from a plant in their yard and showed me how to clean the needles off. Then Nana showed me how to slice and rinse. She pulled some stew meat out of the refrigerator, dredged it in flour, and tossed it in a skillet. I was frantically writing all this down because there was no way I would remember it all. She wouldn’t even measure out the ingredients; she just knew. I asked her how she was able to do all this without a recipe. She said, "When you cook with love, you measure with your heart."

I am not a great cook. I tend to stick to the recipes, but occasionally I go off script. I like to think it is my Nana helping me out and telling me to “measure with my heart.”

Memories of Nana and Tata

Dan and I met on February 17, 1973, and a few weeks later, he took me to meet his Nana and Tata.  He was so proud of them, and immediately I knew the reason.  They were so warm, genuine, and welcoming. Their humble home was rich with love and great food.  Nana was always cooking.  Her beans and tortillas were the best!  During the two years that Dan and I dated and after we got married, Sunday afternoons were for family, and we were at Nana and Tata’s home for family gatherings almost every Sunday.   My very first camping trip was with Nana, Tata and the entire, big family.  Our oldest son was about six months of age, and he was lavished with attention. His “little nana,” her sisters, and of course “big nana” took turns holding him and playing with him.   He still loves camping to this day.  I will never forget my first Christmas Eve at Nana and Tata’s.  There was laughter, singing, wonderful tamales (I had never eaten homemade tamales before.), and the opening of presents.  Nana would spend the whole year buying gifts for everyone, including those who were dating her grandchildren.  For many years, we would get dressed up and enjoy time with family every Christmas Eve at Nana and Tata’s house.  As our family grew, our four children loved going up to Nana and Tata’s house every Sunday afternoon.  They would play hard with their cousins, and we would bring them home very dirty, happy, and tired.  After their bath, they would sleep so soundly on those Sunday nights.  I will always remember the way that Nana and Tata welcomed everyone to their home, made holidays wonderful, and how they instilled in all of us the importance of family.  That is the legacy of Nana and Tata.

Love That Became Part of Us

	Growing up with my great-grandparents taught me a great deal about love and kindness. Nana and Tata were outstanding in the way they loved us all and each other. The time we spent together was so special and something that I have always treasured. Their love was a fantastic model of how we should all love one another.

	I can still see their yard during family gatherings. Every party at Nana and Tata's house was full of love, laughter, and dancing. There was something magical about the way they created joy. The music would play and you could feel the love from everyone who attended. Get-togethers were filled with life.  Their parties created connections with everyone. Watching Nana and Tata move together, laugh together, and bring everyone into that circle of happiness taught me what it means to truly cherish the people you love.

	Though I haven't been able to attend family gatherings in a while, I still catch glimpses of those celebrations through videos posted on social media. Seeing cousins and other family members coming together, I recognize something beautiful. They all have that same spirit of love, laughter, and dancing that Nana and Tata cultivated. They created a legacy of connection that continues to bring family together, gathering after gathering.

	Their smiles always filled my heart with happiness. I still see their smiles when I think about them. Sometimes those smiles find me unexpectedly. When pictures of my Nanie pop up as memories, her smile brings me right back to when all three were alive. I see them in who she was as well. That same warmth and joy passed down through generations. It is a beautiful reminder that their love didn't just touch us. It became part of who we all are.  The love they poured into all of us continues to guide me. It reminds me of the power of loving generously and living joyfully.

OBITUARY

Matthew Minjares

September 21, 1902 – January 8, 1999

Eternal Hills Mortuary & Crematory at Eternal Hills Memorial Park

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