Indians in My Life

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Title Saga of the Sanpitch Vol 28
Subject Pioneers
Description Stories and poems about early Southern Utah Pioneers
Publisher Snow College
Date 1996
Type Text
Format image/jpeg
Language eng
Rights Management Snow College
Holding Institution Snow College
ARK ark:/87278/s6m043j1
Setname snowc_sts
Date Created 2005-03-01
Date Modified 2005-03-01
ID 326790
Reference URL

Page Metadata

Title Indians in My Life
Description would not quit as long as Hans led the way. I don't know how long we worked in these conditions, but for me, a boy 16 years of age, it seemed to go on forever. Mind and tody dulled to cold and wet. I somehow forgot the sensation of water and mud oozing between my toes inside my shoes. All I could see was Hans ahead of me and he didn't quit until we arrived at the headgate very far down the ditch. We sloshed our way back to the truck, which was parked near the canyon road. Hans didn't apologize for the inconvenience, nor did he inquire about how miserable I felt. At the time I did not appreciate that he, too, was wet, cold and miserable. But the heater in the truck sure felt good as we drove home. I have had occasion to think back on that experience a number of times. Sometimes I have had to work in inclement weather. Most often when I have reflected on this experience, the muddy, miserable conditions were not caused by the elements of nature, but stresses and turmoil from life's challenges. Sometimes when I thought it would be easier to give up, choose another course, or try another day. I have remembered that Hans didn't quit when it rained. And I'm glad I remembered: and I'm glad for an important life lesson learned in a muddy ditch at the foot of Ball Mountain: "Hans didn't quit when it rained." Indians in My Life Blodwen P. Olson Non Professional Honorable Mention Persona] Recollection The Indians were in town again, on their annual begging trip. It was September 1920 and we had seen them camped in their makeshift tents on the County Block1 with their horses and wagons nearby. I knew the women would be going around town from door to door, dragging their sacks to be filled with whatever people would give them. The children would be pulling the homemade carts they used to carry their sacks when they became too heavy to carry. The expected knock came at our kitchen door and I was told to open the door and invite the short round smiling brown woman into our house. When my mother appeared, the visitor held her sack open and said, "Flour?" Mom obligingly went to the flour bin and emptied a scoop of flour into the sack. After she had put four or five full scoops of flour in the sack, the Indian said, "More." But Mom said, "That's enough. I have to 41
Format image/jpeg
Identifier 050_Indians in My Life.jpg
Source Saga of the Sanpitch Vol 28
Setname snowc_sts
Date Created 2005-02-23
Date Modified 2005-02-23
ID 326727
Reference URL