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Swamp Water, Abalone Shells, Basted Eggs, Sow Belly and Nettles
Swamp Water, Abalone Shells, Basted Eggs, Sow Belly and Nettles
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Several hundred years ago there were Indians and ponies in the Hill Country of Southern California . . . . . . in an area between Temecula and Warner Hot Springs. They were peaceful people with existence in a mountainous, temperate, beautiful climate having only to work and prepare for the moons ahead. There were no warring factions or invaders then. It was a joy to live.Then the White Man came. The' 'Butterfield Stage" came right through here and ended nearby. My relatives helped settle this t…

Swamp Water, Abalone Shells, Basted Eggs, Sow Belly and Nettles (el. knyga) (skaityta knyga) | knygos.lt

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Several hundred years ago there were Indians and ponies in the Hill Country of Southern California . . . . . . in an area between Temecula and Warner Hot Springs. They were peaceful people with existence in a mountainous, temperate, beautiful climate having only to work and prepare for the moons ahead. There were no warring factions or invaders then. It was a joy to live.


Then the White Man came. The' 'Butterfield Stage" came right through here and ended nearby. My relatives helped settle this territory. I am very proud to be a fifth generation Californian. I sat on my Great, Great Grandmother Lucia's lap and I have the pictures to prove it. I am not all proud of the White Man Coming. I know where the Red Man made his arrowheads and stored his cooking pots and ollas. In respect, I will not tell.


This story is of the Hill Country as I saw it. The Red Man is there today. The "Reservation" is not a home, it is a place to stay. Few of God's Red Children are left. The hills are beautiful, but empty. What can I say?


I can remember and I have. It feels good to remember. It can hurt to forget. Don't ever say ... "Good-bye," say ......so long. "

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Several hundred years ago there were Indians and ponies in the Hill Country of Southern California . . . . . . in an area between Temecula and Warner Hot Springs. They were peaceful people with existence in a mountainous, temperate, beautiful climate having only to work and prepare for the moons ahead. There were no warring factions or invaders then. It was a joy to live.


Then the White Man came. The' 'Butterfield Stage" came right through here and ended nearby. My relatives helped settle this territory. I am very proud to be a fifth generation Californian. I sat on my Great, Great Grandmother Lucia's lap and I have the pictures to prove it. I am not all proud of the White Man Coming. I know where the Red Man made his arrowheads and stored his cooking pots and ollas. In respect, I will not tell.


This story is of the Hill Country as I saw it. The Red Man is there today. The "Reservation" is not a home, it is a place to stay. Few of God's Red Children are left. The hills are beautiful, but empty. What can I say?


I can remember and I have. It feels good to remember. It can hurt to forget. Don't ever say ... "Good-bye," say ......so long. "

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