My Life with the Hairy People (An Excerpt)

Author Arla Williams is known in the Bigfoot world to have grown up with the Bigfoot people. Her grandmother was Cherokee and she asked Arla, "What do you think Bigfoot is?" That question started Arla's adventures with the creature known as Sasquatch. An excerpt from her book is after the jump!

Journey I 

My first encounter happened when I was six years old. That event set my learning in motion about who the Bigfoot were. It began the journey I have been on throughout my life. It brought me to where I am today... Talking about the Bigfoot in a respectful manner... Sharing with people what I have experienced.

There is so much more to what some call this Bigfoot Phenomenon. This is about a people who live in our woods... It is about allowing them the respect to live their lives as they have chosen to do... It is about much more than most may ever grasp. Yes it is about sharing and learning about the Bigfoot People and who they are. It's about how they live their lives in much the same way we do. Its about
learning what they have to teach us.

In the end if all of that is accomplished it will be about something else. It will be about us and who we are. It will be about how we do this that man seems to think he has to do. When you read my stories think about that. Think about why you want to know about them... What is your reason for doing what you are doing? This is surely about us. Will we do this in a good way? All that we learn about them will be for us. It can teach us to do things in a good and respectful way and I hope we do not repeat what we have done to others who man deemed lesser than him. My prayer is that we get "it"... We realize that for us to continue to live on this Earth in a good way, we have to come back to respect. Many elders speak of this. If my sharing what I have experienced helps just one person to understand then all I have done is worth it.

I spent a lot of time with my grandmother for most of my life. There was even a time when she was older that she lived with us. How wonderful that was for my children to have her there with us. The stories she would tell them are etched into my children's hearts. So many of us have lost that closeness with all our generations. I know how blessed I am to have had the opportunity to be a part of that.

When I was six I was staying with my grandmother... She was so much fun to be with... She let me be me. I could play outside all I wanted to as long as I wasn't out of calling distance. I would go in the chicken house barefoot and see what was going on there. I might decide to sneak into the shanty which was the place my grandfather kept his seeds for his garden and would sit and gaze at all the different seeds in jars lined up on shelves. I could even go to her massive flower beds and smell any flowers I wanted to. I could get as dirty as I wanted to and never be scolded and, boy, did I get dirty. I loved playing in the dirt. I gathered leaves, grasses, wild flowers, sticks and stones to make elaborate homes with them. I could play for hours sitting in the dirt. On this particular day I was doing just that. I was sitting in the middle of all my tools of creation... I was a six year old creating a world of her own. I was so intent on what I was doing I did not look up immediately when I heard footsteps approach as I thought it was my grandmother so it didn't concern me. After a minute I looked up expecting to see her standing there watching me. I was definitely surprised when I did look up... There in front of me stood something that was very hairy. He was about my size I thought.

How did I know it was a boy? Even at six I knew the difference. He stood there just looking at me. I was sitting there in the dirt just looking at him. I was taking in everything I could about him. I am sure he must have been doing the same thing. I think back about that time and try to remember more of what I was thinking... I would imagine I was thinking, boy that looks like a hairy kid. He was probably thinking why that kid doesn't have more hair. He was a brownish color and his hair was not extremely long.

After we had stared at each other for a while he turned and walked back into the woods. I jumped up and ran in to tell my grandmother what I had seen. I told her what he looked like and I asked her what it was... Not who was it but what was it. At six I had no reference for what I had seen. She looked at me and all she said was, "What do you think it was?"

She never told me more until she had allowed me to think for myself. That was how she was. She never pushed anything on me, but let me think about things on my own.


You can read more by purchasing this delightful Bigfoot book here on Amazon.