Consider contributing a story. What story do you want to tell? What power does a story hold? Does your story tell about a certain time in your life? or is it about something so funny! Post your story below or comment on contributing stories.
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ReplyDeleteThe Stars
ReplyDeleteby June Folsomito, 9 years old
The stars are bright like a flashlight.
The night is black like a cat.
The moon is round like a ball.
The night is so pretty you can see the light going from star to star to star.
What do the stars look like in outerspace? It looks like a fireball.
The stars are pretty to look at.
The moon is like a light.
The sun is big.
The earth is small.
The moon is small too.
The sun is the biggest star.
Can you see the sun? Do not look at the sun because it is too bright.
If there was a lot of stars we can see the light going from star to star to star.
I have a book on stars and planets.
I have a story about the stars.
I see a lot of stars.
Some are big and small.
I am looking at the stars right now.
Can you see the stars?
Can you see the stars or the moon?
There is a little light outside.
June- you are such an amazing writer. Thank you so much for sharing your words and for being a part of the project- we are honored.
ReplyDeleteSee you on Saturday - David
i love the images in this poem, it's very visual!
ReplyDeletethank you for sharing - ahyeheh!
What a wonderful poem, June! This has brightened my evening, and made me look at the stars differently. Valerie
ReplyDeleteHere's a story I told the Torreon group a few weeks ago:
ReplyDeleteWhen I made my first trip to Ojo Encino, I was driving from Albuquerque, where I live, to the Ojo Senior Center. I printed out directions from Mapquest and they got me all the way to the turn on Ojo Encino Rd. After this, the directions were worthless.
Once I realized that I was very lost, I turned off the main road and drove up to a group of houses. I got out of my car and walked up to the nearest house and knocked at the door. I knocked and knocked. Then, on the other side of the house, I heard a door open. I had been knocking at the back door!
When I walked around the house, I saw a grandma through the screen door. I turned my eyes to the ground and said, "Hello, Grandmother. I am Valerie Martinez and I live in Albuquerque. I am supposed to go to the Ojo Encino Senior Center, but Grandmother, I'm lost. Can you tell me the way?"
Grandmother stepped out of the house, without saying a word, and nodded. Then, she took her right hand and gestured forward then right then up, as if climbing a hill. Then her hand pointed down and left and right, then up another hill. Then down the hill and straight ahead. Then, her hand stopped and made a sharp left. Then it stopped and with both hands she made the shape of a bird.
Finally, Grandma said, "See the silver bird."
I thanked her, got in my car and drove forward and right and up a hill. Then down and left and right. Then up a hill and down. Then, ahead I saw a left turn and a large, silver water tower. The silver bird!
I turned left and passed the silver bird, and found the senior center just beyond.
This was my first trip to Ojo.
I thought that I would post some of the possibilities for story pieces/presentations that we are formulating. For any of you that missed the session on Sat. March 21st- this is what we discussed:
ReplyDelete1.) "Bigger Picture"- based on A.J's writing - spokenword/sung/musical piece
2.) "Birth"- June's letter to her sister
3.)Cycles/Threads/Plants-Fatou,Debbie, Elaine, Irene, Joan, Walter
4.) "Threads"(strong and broken) -Family, Tradition, Identity, Culture
5.) Identity - Cuba High Film
6.) Identity/Lines - A.J./Crystal piece?
7.) Gangs and Friendship- Film by Cuba High Alt Ed. class.
8.) Long Walk - Tyna and Kialo
9.) Long Walk/Ghost Story - Torreon Day School students film
10.) Sacred Mountains/Dreams - Brenda and Earlene- Cuba HighAltEd.
11.) Moon and Sun Cycles- Winona and children
Hope this helps in terms of planning and thinking of images, video footage, visuals, music, etc that you may need.
All best- David
The Great Chacoan Escape
ReplyDeleteA Novel
By Kialo Folsomito (Navajo/Zia Pueblo)
Excerpt 1:
Native Americans who are and were have had stories to tell. These stories were told orally, memorized, and shared with family members. These stories of family history were especially shared with children building their cognitive thinking. Lessons were a vital part of a maturing child. Often, the story teller would provide his version or exaggerate episodes in the story to fit the fancy of the young audience. The Great Chacoan Escape is a true story told by my elders of escape from the horrid long walk to Bosque Redondo. The United States military offered to acculturate the Dine’ culture in the name of Manifest Destiny.
This story was presented to me and all relatives of the Tangle People clan by my uncle Richard Montoya at a family reunion in 1998 at Torreon, New Mexico. Torreon is located on the far-east border of the Navajo Reservation. My uncle’s closing remarks were “I wish someone would record our family history on paper.” This is my version of the story, based on information collected through research. The historical event and places are true, the Dine’ characters are true, but the personal characteristics and some names are fiction.
Excerpt 2:
"...the fast moving snowstorms were approaching from the west as moving blankets. The Chooshgai mountain was a blur through that mist, closer the sun streaked storms were pelting the hills and juniper trees. When it would seem the storm was at its worst, the sky would open and bask the earth with warm rays. It would stroke the earth with searching sunbeams.
I turn my back from the blowing wind and kneel facing the east. I kneel behind a wind-twisted juniper tree to rest. I search the east horizon and follow the ridge line plateau to the north until it disappears into the east horizon. Thousands of sandstone boulders scatter the base of this hundred mile plateau. Some boulders are larger than a horse and even a dwelling. My eyes hurt from blowing cold air, dried blood…and from tears. I rest my eyes and bow my head as if giving offering to White Shell Boy, but it was to loosen my tense muscles. I notice my right shoulder on my burgundy shirt had blotches of dark blood. My black skirt is heavy with mud. My red and white sash is snug and I feel my scabbard holding my skinning knife. It’s still there. My snow moccasins are comfortable and my leggings are keeping my legs warm and dry.
I wonder to myself still with my eyes closed and head bowed. How far did we run? Were we far enough, of course not. I know we were running hours into the morning."