Wednesday, April 20, 2011

when I was in third grade....

When dad was through being Superintendent at school each summer, we would go to grandma's and grandad's farm and mom would help with cooking and dad would help with harvesting. This year I was free from third grade and anxious to get going as summer at the farm was always fun and there were so many things to do.

At that time I was going through the phaze of joining the Gypsies. Each summer grandad would let them camp on one end of his fields as he discovered they wouldn't steal anything if he let them camp. Each year mom would tell everyone to keep track of Neysa Le as it was time for the Gypsies to come through and she knew how fascinated I was with them. I was always going to run away and go live with them.

One evening I was catching Fireflies in a jar and I noticed all the smoke rising in the air where the Gypsies always camped. I ran upstairs to see if I could see them. Sure enough they were setting up camp. This time I was going to join them. I was a big girl now and I was all done with third grade. The next night I went to bed as usual but I later tip toed out the back door and took off through the corn fields to the camp. It was kind of scary as it was dark and the corn stalks made a lot of noise and it was creepy. When I finally got there I hid and watched. Then one of kids saw me and I was pulled out of my hiding place and.....there I was. I had joined the Gypsies.
They let me stay awhile by the fire and fed me something that tasted like smoke and then this big man said he would take me home so my grandad wouldn't be mad at them. They had such pretty clothes on and they sang and danced and played the fiddle. I wanted to live with them.

But soon I was back in my feather bed and I knew I couldn't live with the Gypsies that summer.

When I wrote about Spain and Portugal it brought up memories of the Gypsies. There are lots of them living there. The Gypsies were poorer than the ones in U.S. I found the area where they lived but couldn't find anyone of the Norge Group that would go with me to explore their lifestyle . I was acquainted with one of the boys that helped in the hotel where we were staying. We were together a lot and he showed me places I wouldn't have seen otherwise. I told him I was going to go see the Gypsies there. He said no it was too dangerous and no way was I to go alone. I kept at him until he said he would take me.

These were the real Gypsies. They were very poor. It looked like some of the pictures of Africa. They didn't have enough food or anything but they were all so beautiful. Albano, the young man who took me there, was really surprised they treated me so well. The language was different but we managed to understand one another. They danced and sang for me and we ate something that I don't know what it was but knew I had better eat it. We spent the whole evening with them. Beautiful people and I loved them. This was in Portugal and I also went to visit the ones in Spain. They danced like I have never seen dancing before. Also, I have never heard fiddles played like they played them. Colors everywhere. They were poor but they were happy. They are not liked in their country.

Well it took many years but my dream came true. I joined the Gypsies.
gami

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

London

Been following all the Posts and feel like I was on the same trip as you Terah. I saw the same kind of conditions in Spain and Portugal some years ago.

Right now I think your wondering where you are, where you should be, and was it all a dream? I was gone three weeks and it took me sometime and tears and prayers to get myself 'home.'

You did a wonderful job and congrats.

The reason I'm writing is....Lyle mentioned in one of the Blogs that the people in London were very rude. When it comes to a lot of American tourists actions in London....London people have their side to being rude.

I went with a group of 150 people who all worked for Norge. They went to Spain for a meeting of all things. One of the guys I knew had three extra tickets and offered them to me. My sister, Pat, and my Hula teacher from the Y, wanted to go. So we each bought a ticket for $300 ea. This included everything but our film and personal things. Coming home we stayed in London a bit. The Norge guys acted so stupid, so rude, so terrible and were all drinking the entire time. I was so embarrassed to even be one of them. One of the pilots from London told me this was the way people from US acted in London. They left a bad reputation for us as other tourists did also. So the people of London really aren't happy to see us.

Just giving you another side that I saw personally.
gami

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Note Maker

Hi....I'm one of those that writes notes at all times. I write them on anything that is handy. Napkins, toilet tissue, scrap paper....whatever. The past two days I've been going through a drawer of notes trying to sort them but it's a hopeless job. I ran into this one this morning and I don't know if I had sent a copy to someone or not. Doubt it so will write it here. Remember this is just a reminder note. Hasn't been edited !

"I want to share an experience I was priviledged to see and hear and feel. A baby was about to be born. I felt the closeness between the soon to be parents. I heard the mod phrases spoken with much meaning in their now generation. He was there when she asked him to help. He felt her pain as much as its possible for a man to feel the pain of childbirth. He also was frightened of the thought of going into the delivery room ..when they came for him...he didn't show his panic. Dressed in the green sanitary garb he went to her side. . There was pain. A new Spirit came into the world. They looked at their son and it was a moment they shall never forget. Happiness and togetherness was shared with all.
I was a grandmother. I was proud of the parents and their newborn son. I have to admit that even though I knew in my heart the babe was a boy, I secretly wished for a girl. Since Connie was six she talked of someday having a little girl.
When I left them she looked at me and said "Its OK mom, a girl next time."
I looked at the tiny, red, wrinkled little soul who had fought his way into their lives and said to myself......'Welcome to the world little....Ryan Nels Beck'."

Monday, January 25, 2010

Yikes....Been a long time since I've posted here. Tried to post a song but all that appeared is the title which looks quite dumb on the blog. I can not find how one pastes it from my email to the blog. Sorry about that.....neysa

Jesus Loves Me

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Hello...been awhile since I've typed a few ....
This month is the anniversary of D Day. A day of another war that I spent five years of my youth in as you are doing now.
Just a few words....a reminder to "all" my kids on this side of the pond....We should all stop during our busy lives and give thanks to our military guys who are giving up their lives so that we here, are able to live and work and bring new spirits into the world.

Dan Klitzke, Christina's husband is serving his third tour in the war zone. I received an email from Dan telling me they lost four men on this D Day. These four guys gave their lives protecting you and your families. Please take a moment each day and send prayers to them, to their families for what they are giving so that you and yours might remain free.

Thanks Much
Gami

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Tree Hugger

Hey, Kitten...
Thought I'd write a few words and see if you will read them to those two 'Lovin On Trees' sisters of yours....OK?
I was going to put it in your mom's comment in her blog but I read she has her camera back and the article may be gone before I get my words printed so....

Once upon a time when I was just a little older than you my mom had to move we three kids to Lewiston, Idaho to go to school. Our home was in Orogrande, Idaho and they didn't have enough kids living there yet to have a school. So we had to go out to Lewiston during school time.

My brother Bobby was just some older than Gretta and my sister Patty was just starting 1st grade. I was going into 6th grade.

Lewiston has lots of Native American people around there as the Indian Reservation wasn't very far away. It wasn't long before I had a lot of Indian friends to play with and some of them went to our school. They told me that Neysa was an Indian name. I thought they were kidding but they brought books to school to show the teachers and I that this was true. This made them special friends and I liked my name more and more all the time.

I learned a lot about Indians and they invited me to come play and spend time at the Reservation. They told the best stories. They had stories for everything they did.

One of my favorite stories was about 'Trees.' The Indians love trees and they taught me how to talk to trees and learn from them. The Chief told us to always pick out a special tree everywhere we lived. I did this and I still do this even though I'm as old as the Chief was then. He told us to hug our tree...to sit on the ground and lean up against the tree. He said to lay on the roots of the tree and look up into the sky and watch the clouds and that the tree would help us make pictures out of the clouds. The clouds would turn into shapes that looked like animals and things. Now this was lots of fun.

When we learned these things the Chief would tell us bigger things. He told us the trees would whisper to us. The winds would make the branches and leaves and needles move and they made sounds and for us to listen close to because God and the Angels were sending us messages through the whispers. I loved these stories more and more and I knew I had a friend forever and ever. My tree.

The story I like the best is the one about healing. The Chief told us that when we were sick or sad or happy to go to our tree and hug it a long time. When we would hug it for a long time we would feel it's energy coming out and into us healing and comforting us. Isn't that a fun thing to know? I found out that you can tell secrets to your tree and the tree will never tell. You can always trust your tree.

Now when you gals are lovin on your tree listen to what it's saying. You see, God is sending you a message through your tree to you. This is a true story. I hope you like it.

Gami....a Tree Hugger.