Paula Gunn Allen

There she is, Paula Marie. I remember the lawn and sort of the evergreen behind it, grandma (aka Grammy) changed the arrangement of her green green yard sometime after that and some things vanished to be replaced by others. I remember that when she had the arrangement you can glimpse in this photo she also had a strawberry patch. She had two lawns that she kept green all summer, an astonishing feat as far as I can see. It was the high desert of western New Mexico, after all. And while we/she had a generous and sweet tempered well up on the sandstone mesa that towered above her yard, still, her persistence, her downright Laguna Pueblo stubbornness, were awesome.

Paula, that is, me, at that time spoke with an accent, being unable to pronounce “r's” properly. My mother often repeated my pronounciation of a line from wherever, “wed woses ah wound,” and say that was how I said it. My step-granfather's nephew, Kurt Gottlieb (German Jewish refugee from Hitler's Germany) used to love to hear my talk in my funny way. Perhaps because German speaking people, I've noticed, don't pronounce 'r's” the same way Americans do, theirs being closer to how I spoke when this photograph was taken than I speak now.

Other photos and narratives scanned will be attached soon