Sitting in the living rooms of some of our residents, listening totheir stories, has been among my most enjoyable times at ourresidence. Some of them are no longer with us. So, I ask, who willcarry their fabulous stories of adventures, hopes, simple wisdom,heartaches, triumphs, failures, sheery joy and humble accomplishments?
The Native American culture has lost many of itstraditions, because those who were told, tell no more. Their method ofpassing the history of their ancestors was through storytelling. Nothing was written or recorded. The life experiences of another humanbeing are best expressed or articulated by the person who actuallyexperienced them.
One of my favorites was listening to a particularresident talk about riding in a horse-drawn wagon with her bare feetdangling from the back of the wagon on her way to a big city called LosAngeles. The way she described the dirt roads, the dangerous pass thatled from Simi Valley to Topanga Canyon, the delight of a young girl”tom boy” being covered in the dust and dirt was so vivid that I couldalmost taste and smell the dust and dirt myself. So the memory of abeautiful little blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl sitting on the back ofthat horse-drawn wagon has become a treasure of mine.
REMEMBER THEM AND BE REMEMBERED!