Swamp Water, Abalone Shells, Basted Eggs, Sow Belly and Nettles

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. "