May 7, 1945, World War II ended. I was born July 29, 1937, so I was just 8 years old. I marveled how very fortunate I was to have good parents & not be persecuted like the Jews were in Germany. I prayed to thank God and asked Him what I could do to repay at least some of what He had done for me. It was a quick answer, “Help the American Indian.” ( I now say, “Native American,” but I may have not known what that would’ve meant back then.) I had never thought of that before and collected pictures of Native Americans and read a lot about them. Soon, I forgot about it, graduated from high school, went on to college but I had to go into the military for eight years. Ironically, I got stationed at an isolated radar site in Alaska and on weekends taught Sunday school to some Native American Indian children, they were called, “Alute”, (spelling?) anyway, I loved them. Another story too long for here. When I got out of the Air Force, I went directly to the campus of New Mexico Highlands University and it was there that I married my wife, Alicia Guadalupe Anaya. She told me she was a direct descendent of Geronimo. I have two children from her and two grandchildren. I had a head injury (TBI) & what is now called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. (PTSD) resulting from the 1964 Alaska earthquake. That’s another long story.
Four years ago a wonderful neurologist repaired my brain damage and a wonderful counselor help to me deal with a lot of bad memories. Now I am much better. I’m like Rip van Winkle.(spelling?) I feel like I’m waking up every day thinking better than before and now I realize I promised God I’d help the American Indians and He didn’t forget. My life has been influenced greatly by the Native Americans and now I seek to see what God wants me to do next. ????✝️

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