America has never been a country for old people.
Today we are continually reminded that our so-called senior citizens are shamefully neglected, that we have been mistaken to segregate them into Sun Cities and nursing homes, that we need our grandparents as much as they need us. In this book we are privileged to hear some extraordinary old people talk about themselves and their lives in rural northern New Mexico. Robert Coles's eloquent transcriptions of their words combine with Alex Harris's photographs of their ageless faces to remind us that human beings can still grow old with dignity.
These are poor people. Many of them have never been as far from home as Albuquerque, have never had medical care, are virtually illiterate. They have no political power. But by and large they do not feel sorry for themselves; in fact they are proud.
They have to work harder than many people half their age, but to them work is beautiful just because it is part of life: "My fingers would die if they didn't have the dough to work over. I will never give up my oven for a new one. It has been here forty years, and is an old friend. I would stop baking bread if it gave out."
Like all country people, these men and women live in an intimate relationship with the land, and their devotion to the natural world is matched by their deep faith in God. Their faith is manifested in a sense of fatalism, a respect for tradition, and a remarkable lack of materialism. It is at the heart of their ability to accept old age and poverty without bitterness.
