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george la braque


Man From Mono
Memoirs of George La Braque, Sr. (1885 - 1935) told to his daughter Lily

under construction

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All photos and text from Mathieu La Braque's book Man From Mono unless otherwise noted.
See USE NOTICE on Home Page.

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Man From Mono
Memoirs of George La Braque,

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mono basin
Mono Basin in 1890

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The Gamblers
By Lily Mathieu La Braque

We anted into the pot of lifeas we settled at Mono Lake,
not knowing if Lady Luck would frown
or smile upon us.

We gambled on our crops,
uninsured against the weather
and lucky to break even.

Wagering on the mines,
some held aces and eights.

The joker ran wild in the game of love.

In the end, there were no winners.
Yet, who can say that we are losers?
We persist.


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Avalanche at Jordan
by Lily Mathieu La Braque

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An Indian Prayer
Author - Unknown

O great spirit, whose breath gives life to all the world, hear me! I am small and weak. I need your strength.

  Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes behold
the red and purple sunset.
Make my hands respect the things you have made, and my ears
sharp to hear your voice
Make me wise so that I may understand the things
you have taught my people.
Let me learn the lessons you have hidden
in every leaf and rock.
I seek strength, not to be greater than my brother,
but to fight my greatest enemy - myself.
Make me always ready to come to you with clean hands
and straight eyes.
So when life fades, as the fading sunset,
my spirit may come to you without shame.

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Mono in the Springtime
by Tom Lawrence

How soon will Mono's fountains
smash the web winter has spun,
And Mighty Mono's mountains flash
their welcome to the sun?
I count each day the tortured hours
and try to hide the sting
'Til nature's breath awakes the flowers
When Mono smiles in Spring.

When cold, depressing winter haunts
my thoughts with stories weird,
And want's grim, silent shadow
haunts me 'til my soul grows tired.
When storm withers flowers and
tree and streams no longer sing,
I try to fancy how 'twill be
When Mono smiles in Spring.

The mountains fill with icy shot
the bitter, piercing wind,
Yet in their wildest wrath they're
not than man himself less kind;
Though they be merciless as death,
when Winter rules as king.
They soothe you with a perfumed breath
When Mono smiles in Spring.

I seek not for a useless tear that
any man may shed;
I seek not for a careless prayer,
when I have joined the dead.
I seek not for the why and where
of mad imagining,
But I would like to wake each year
When Mono smiles in Spring


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This page was last updated on 27 October 2022