Stories for Everyone – stories on Facebook
We would like to invite you to take part in a new project called "From Stories to Books".
The Stories for Everyone Team have been, for some time, gathering and selecting books that provide some sort of reflection on the fundamental ethical principles of
our society, such as solidarity, courage, honesty, respect for differences and a sense of justice, matters that have deserved the attention of writers from various
nationalities.
Therefore, the Stories for Everyone Team proposes to send, together with the usual weekly stories, and also free of charge, full texts of selected books.
In case you are interested in receiving each week, by email, a chapter of an extensive reading book, all you have to do is send an email to
books@storiesforeveryone.com or stories4ev@gmail.com, or reply to this email by writing the following sentence in the subject field:
Hoping that this new proposal will meet your utmost interest, we look forward to your reply.
The Stories for Everyone Team
Among us the old ones are the best models for how we should live our lives. Every old person is a collection of stories because of all that each one has seen and lived and all that happens in the world around them in a lifetime. I have not met an old person yet who was not a strong exemplar of at least one virtue, and many are outstanding exemplars of more than one.
Such a person was an old woman named No Moccasins. She lived in a time before the coming of the horses (prior to I700).
No Moccasins and her husband, Three Horns, had lived long lives. They had a son and a daughter and several grandchildren. No Moccasins, in fact, was grandmother to all the children in the village. She was a small woman, and by her sixty-seventh winter her hair was the color of new‑fallen snow. The lines in her face seemed to show the many trails she had walked in her life. No visitor to her modest but orderly lodge ever left hungry, and rarely without a gift in hand, something that was finely quilled. She was known far and wide for her intricate quilling patterns and designs, and many women came to learn her skill. But in spite of all of that she was known mainly as the wife of Three Horns.
Three Horns was a man of excellent reputation. He had been a warrior far past the time when most men lost the strength of arm and leg as well as the will to take risks. So in his lifetime he had collected many, many war honors. The lance to which his eagle feathers were tied was twice as long as a man was tall. Every feather was an honor, of course, and no other man could boast of such a thing. When he finally turned from the warpath, he took his place on the council of elders. There he offered his wisdom unselfishly and the skill with which he spoke could not be matched. He was seventy winters old, but his appearance could take the breath away. He didn´t have the big belly that many old men did. He stood straight and tall, and his hair, which hung to his waist, was silvery white.
In the village everyone turned to Three Horns for advice. It seemed as though he had always been there. So when he fell ill and took to his deathbed, the entire village was in disbelief.
Word traveled fast and soon many, many people from other villages came to pay honor to the dying leader. Three Horns´ tiny village grew to twice its size in a matter of days. No Moccasins, her daughter, and several other women were kept busy cooking to feed all the guests. When Three Horns was told about all the people who had come, he asked the oldest people in the gathering to come to his lodge.
The four men and two women who came to No Moccasins and Three Horns´ lodge saw in the man´s half of the lodge, which was to the north, the long eagle-feather staff, bows and arrows and lances, and buffalo-hide shields that were the colorful symbols of the glorious life of a warrior. Three Horns, weak from his illness, spoke in a low voice with No Moccasins, who was sitting beside him. But he seemed to grow stronger as he went on. No Moccasins, as she had always done, saw to the comfort of her guests and her husband and remained respectfully quiet.
"My friends and relatives," he began, "thank you for coming into our lodge. I have been honored to share this lodge with my wife for nearly fifty winters. In that time we were given a fine son and a fine daughter and many grandchildren. Our people saw difficulty as well as good. We took to the path of war now and then and good men were hurt or died. We are feared and respected by our enemies. The number of our lodges and villages has grown in that time. We are a strong people; our ways are good. I am thankful to the Great Mystery for bringing me into this world as a Lakota! I have lived a good life and I am ready for the next. Before I leave I have a story to tell, and I ask that after the sun comes up tomorrow you tell this same story to all the people gathered here. That is why I have asked you to come today. Here is what I wan t you to know.
…
(To be continued in the PDF attachment)
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Cleversticks
Ling Sung started school on Monday, but on Wednesday morning he decided he didn´t want to go anymore.
There were too many things the others could do that he couldn´t. Like tying his shoes.
Terry could do his, and he kept undoing them and doing them up again while everyone had to watch.
Ling Sung tried to do his, but his fingers got tangled up and the laces kept going their own ways.
Manjit knew how to write her name. She wrote it on all her things, and she painted it even bigger than her picture.
Ms. Smith and Ms. Dhanjal clapped, and Manjit held the painting up for everyone to see.
Ling Sung tried to write his name, too. But he wasn´t sure how to do the letters or which way the writing had to go.
The one thing Ling Sung could do came at home time. Very carefully he buttoned up his coat. But when he finished, he had a button left over, and his coat was all up on one side.
…
(To be continued in the PDF attachment)
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Posted by: Stories for Everyone - AS <sg@storiesforeveryone.com>
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