Chapter Twenty-One: Grandma’s Stories

Samantha sat between her father and grandmother in an airplane on the way to Lebanon, Pennsylvania, and, in her hands, she held the already opened and thrice read birthday card sent to her from Josephina Schmidt.

She had received the card in the mail, a day late, just as she and her father were leaving their house to pick up Grandma Beck on their way to the airport.

It had been Tuki’s idea to include Luther and Grandma Beck in the annual powwow, and Samantha had been glad when both had eagerly accepted the invitation, pleased, like she had once been, for the opportunity to learn more about their heritage and relatives. Dorothy, her mother, had been invited as well, but she could not cancel a prior commitment to work in their parish festival, and so had insisted they go without her.

Although Samantha had hoped to sleep during the flight—the dream of Misink had returned in spite of her hanging the dream catcher again—she could not stop pondering over the meaning behind Josephina’s words in the juvenile card she had sent.

The outside of the card pictured a hot air balloon rising before white clouds, with a rainbow in back and yellow letters saying, “Here’s hoping all your dreams come true.” On the inside, the printed card read, “Happy Birthday!” In blue ink, in tiny cursive script, Josephina had written a letter, beginning on the left side of the opened card, continuing on the right, and ending on a piece of stationary inserted inside:

Dear Samantha,

Dorothy called and told me the truth, and said she told you as well. This letter is difficult to write, so please bear with me. I had a better card picked out, but I messed up my message and had to start over, and I happened to have this card on hand.

I’d start over now if I had another card, but I don’t, and I’m afraid if I don’t send this today, I never will.

I suppose I suspected, when you were little, you might be the baby I had twenty-six years ago, but your mother and my sister denied it, and I decided to believe them. You looked so much like me, but my sister Maggie told me I had given birth to a boy. So, even though the suspicions occasionally haunted me when I would see you at holidays, I decided to believe Maggie, since she had sacrificed so much to help me have my baby secretly, and I worked hard at burying those suspicions and keeping them dead.

This is embarrassing for me, having to face this now, even with both my parents gone. Everyone seems to think of me as the smart one in the family, and what I did twenty-six years ago was not smart at all.

But you aren’t to blame. And I don’t have any hard feelings toward you. And I am, now that I’ve been forced to think of you, curious to know what you’re like. Part of me is afraid to go any further than this card, though. I feel so vulnerable to pain right now after working hard for so long to avoid it.

So I’m sending you this birthday card, and I want you to know that every year since you were born, I’ve thought of you on this day, even though I always imagined you as a boy. I’ve tried not to think of you, but always on this day, it would hit me like a truck, and I’d sink into the deepest depression.

Please give me time. I will write again, or call, perhaps, when I’m stronger. Remember that my pain is not about you, the person you are. It is about a secret I carried for twenty-six years that I had rather hoped I would never have to tell.

Sincerely,

Josie

Samantha tucked the stationary insert inside the card and put the card back in the envelope. Her father was looking at her, but she avoided his eyes. She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t know how she felt about it, and wished she had never been told the truth.

She slipped the card into her purse and stuffed the purse beneath her seat.

A little while later, Grandma Beck, who had the window seat, exclaimed, just as Samantha had closed her eyes and was about to doze off, “Look at that. How beautiful.”

A crisp afternoon sunbeam broke through the clouds in a postcard-like magnificence.

“That’s Father Sky kissing the face of Mother Earth,” Grandma Beck said.

Samantha’s eyes widened. “You know about Father Sky and Mother Earth, Grandma?”

“Of course, dear.”

“But you never mentioned them before.”

“I did when you were younger, but then your mother asked me to stop. She didn’t want me telling you all those old stories. Like I said the other day, she was afraid you’d get confused, question your Christian beliefs.”

“I really liked the story about Misink. Will you tell me another one now?”

She looked past Samantha at her son, waiting for his approval.

He shrugged. “Sure. Go ahead.” He turned back to his hunting magazine.

“Hello? Guys? I am a grown woman, you know.”

Gale smiled, the wrinkles in her face deepening around her mouth and deep brown eyes. Her white hair was knotted on her head in a tight bun. For eighty-seven years of age, she had remarkable energy and stamina. “Yes you are. And I’d love to tell you a story, even though it’s not yet winter, and Grandfather always said to save storytelling for winter, when there is nothing else to do.”

“Did he say the bugs would bite otherwise?”

The old woman laughed with surprise. “That’s right. Oh, my Grandma Kexi said nothing would really happen, but it was wise to save storytelling for winter and to keep your mind on work in the spring, summer, and fall, during planting and harvest time.”

Samantha sat back in her seat and listened to her grandmother’s stories.

The following morning at breakfast after their first night at Gellermann Manor, Samantha sat beside her father and across from Tuki and her grandmother at Brandon’s table, with Brandon seated at the head, as usual. After Jes served their breakfast, and after her father and grandmother told Brandon and Tuki a little about themselves, they somehow got on the subject of language.

“Lots of common English words have Algonquian origins,” Samantha was saying. “For example ‘Mississippi’ comes from the Ojibwe misiizibi, which means ‘great river.’”

“I didn’t know that,” her grandmother replied.

“There’s tons of place names, but also everyday words. Moose comes from the Narragansett’s moos, opossum from Powhata apasum, spelled A-P-A-S-U-M, and pecan from the Objibwe’s bagaan.”

Luther said. “I didn’t realize.”

“There’s tons more. I can’t remember them all. The most surprising one to me was caucus, which comes from the Powhatan caucauasu—C-A-U-C-A-U-A-S-U—-which means ‘counselor.’”

“I knew that one,” Tuki said.

Samantha then convinced her Grandma Beck to share the story she had recently told her on the plane about First Man and First Woman, so, after blushing slightly, Grandma agreed.

“A long time ago, when the world was brand new, First Man and First Woman were walking around discussing things, and First Man said it was time to decide how things will be. First Woman agreed. First Man said since it was his idea to decide things, he should have the first say in everything. First Woman agreed, adding as long as she had the last say.

“So they continued walking and looking over creation when First Man said men should be hunters and the animals should come to the men when they are called. First Woman agreed men should be hunters, but she said hunting should not be so easy, that it would make men smarter and stronger if the animals ran away and were difficult to kill. First Man said, ‘You have the last say.’

“So they walked around some more when First Man said people should have eyes on one side of their faces and their mouths on the other. The mouths should go straight up and down and they should have ten fingers on each hand. First Woman agreed that their eyes and mouths should be on their faces, but the eyes, she said, should be on the top and their mouths on the bottom, straight across. She said she agreed their fingers should be on their hands, but they should be five on each because ten would make them too clumsy. ‘You have the last say,’ First Man said again.

“Then after a while, as they were walking by the river, First Man said it was time to decide about death. He said he would throw a buffalo chip into the river, and if it would float, when people died, they would come back to life on earth after four days to live forever. First Woman agreed they should decide by throwing something into the river, but not a buffalo chip. She chose, instead, a stone. She said if it would float, it would be as First Man had said, but if it would sink, people would not come back to life on earth after they died. So she threw the stone into the water and, of course, it sank.

“First Woman said it was good, for if people lived forever, the land would become too crowded and there wouldn’t be enough food. Death would create sympathy in the world between people. First Man said nothing.

“After a while, First Woman had her First Child, whom she and First Man loved very much, but, one day, First Child became sick and died. First Woman went to First Man and said, ‘Let us decide again about death,’ but First Man said, ‘No, you had the last say.’”

Samantha shook her head. “Golly, it’s always the woman’s fault. Eve with the apple, First Woman and death. What’s the deal?”

Gale laughed. “Well of course it’s always the woman’s fault when the men are the storytellers!”

Everyone laughed.

Gale added, “You know, my Grandma Kexi taught me that women were revered by our people because of their ability to give new life. They were seen almost like goddesses, up above men in some ways, especially when they were pregnant.”

Brandon took the cloth napkin from his lap and patted his forehead. “Are you sure of that, Mrs. Beck?”

“Oh, yes. They were a spiritual people. I know from my grandmother’s stories they were a civilized and spiritual people, an organized people, and an educated people. They knew how to take care of themselves and the land. They had no problems for centuries upon centuries until the European migration to this country. They were a brilliant, intuitive, loving people who took a great deal of mistreatment.”

Face flushed, bottom lip slightly quivering, Brandon stood from the table, slowly due to his hip, and tossed his napkin onto his half-eaten plate of food. “Excuse me, everyone. I’m suddenly feeling rather ill.”

 

After breakfast, the group piled into Tuki’s pickup and headed for the powwow.

“Where are you going?” Samantha asked Tuki from the backseat of the pickup. She leaned close to her Grandma, who sat in the middle of the front seat, between Tuki and her father. “Why are you going this way?”

They had just left the excavation site, where there hadn’t been much to see. They had stood over the earth, and Gale had said a few words to her great grandparents and the uncle, only a baby, buried with them.

Now Tuki drove even further south, in the opposite direction of the catacombs.

“We’ll take a left up ahead and curve around to a different entrance. It’s easier access and the one used by the others. That entrance is completely out of view from anyone who might be wandering out across the creek. Not that my grandfather ever wanders far from his house. It’s also furthest away from the view of the neighboring ranchers who might otherwise see our smoke and get suspicious.”

“That sounds risky, if you ask me,” Luther said. “It seems sooner or later, someone would see the smoke.”

“Someone called my grandfather once, and I said I had been burning garbage. But I don’t know of any other times. I guess we’ve been lucky so far. Maybe the spirits are on our side.” He glanced at Samantha in the rearview mirror.

Tuki pulled from the gravel road beside four other vehicles parked near a copse of sycamores. Except for the clearing and the road, they were surrounded by dense wood and brush. Nestled into the sycamores were two portable restrooms.

“Jack brought those last night,” Claire said of the portables after the party had climbed from the truck. “And he’s got two tables he needs help unloading. Sorry. Hello. I’m Sister Claire.” She wore a beaded dress, the earth tone beads making a geometrical design similar to the one Samantha saw in the smaller chamber on some of the tombs. It was belted with a thick string of beads, and on her head was a band with a single white feather. She wore sandals on her feet, and her neck and wrists were adorned with jewelry.

“You look great,” Samantha said to her.

“Thanks.”

Samantha introduced both her father and grandmother to the young nun and then Tuki and Luther offered her their help. Claire seemed flustered and nervous over having to set up for the big gathering.

Claire directed the two men to another pickup truck, where Jack, a tribe member, but no relation (part of the Bear clan and currently attending medical school, Claire said), heaved two long buffet tables from the bed of his truck and set them on their sides to lean against a tree. Instead of traditional Native American clothing, he wore blue jeans and a long-sleeved western shirt and boots, which put the Becks a bit more at ease as they had no special clothing of their own. Jack’s long hair fell in a single braid down his back.

After introductions, he said, “We’ll have to carry these down one at a time.”

Samantha asked Claire if she could help with anything, and Claire gave her an enthusiastic nod. “There’s plenty still to do before the others arrive. Come with me.”

The two Beck women followed Claire through the brush about ten feet to a small opening in the side of the hill. A cardboard box full of flashlights sat on the ground outside of the cave. The nun handed them each a light. “I’ve got lanterns set up throughout the main chamber, but you’ll need one of these for the path down.”

They followed Claire, having to stoop slightly, as they climbed down the stone steps that wound through a narrow passage, about four to five feet wide—not as narrow as the path between the legs of Mother Earth, but not expansive enough for two people to comfortably walk side by side.

“You okay, Grandma?” Samantha asked after they had walked about twenty yards.

“A bit winded.”

“Put your hands on my shoulders. There. That better?”

“Yes. Don’t worry. I’m okay.”

After descending down a gradual slope of about twenty to thirty degrees the distance of fifty yards, they eventually arrived at an opening that Samantha soon realized came directly behind the long shelf of rock that had appeared to her like a balcony seat at the opera, the one with the large pile of skeletons. They stepped out onto the shelf and crossed past the skeletons to where the shelf sloped down and led them to the floor of the great cavern.

“Oh my word!” Gale exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anything like this in all my life!”

Samantha looked around in similar wonder as Claire and some of the others set up the cavern for the special occasion. The lanterns alone made the chamber appear grander than she remembered it.

The thick rock formation in the center of the cavern that had reminded Samantha of a mini cluster of mountains divided the chamber into two areas. The first area they came to from this back entrance at the deepest end of the cave had a pile of cedar logs in the center surrounded by stones that Samantha guessed never left the chamber. Four drums made of barrels and elk or deerskin circled the pile of logs, and a few metal chairs were arranged at the outskirts of the room. Claire explained the chairs were for the elderly and those unable to sit “Indian style.” She said Gale might be more comfortable in one, and Gale agreed.

On the other side of the mini cluster of mountains, in the second area of the cavern, were several tables, three near the shallowest end of the cavern, and three off to another side. The tables off to the side held papers or documents of some kind. After the women dropped their flashlights into another cardboard box, they walked over to this second group of tables. Jack led Tuki and Luther with another table off to the opposite side.

“Right there is good,” Claire said to the men regarding the tables. Then she turned to Samantha. “These tables hold our family trees, for each of the seven clans. We display them for people to look at and remember, but also so people can pencil in recent births and deaths. You’ll have to be sure and add your names onto the Kishku tree.”

Samantha gave her a weak smile, avoiding her grandmother’s raised brows, fearful she might give her secret away.

“Over here are blank sheets of paper and pencils so tribesmen can report any news, like degrees earned, awards won, offices held, or whatever, so they can be included in our annual newsletter, which has become another record of our tribe.

“This table with the candles is our remembrance table.” The votive candles appeared to be those Samantha had discovered months ago near the statue of Mother Earth at the other entrance to the smaller chamber. “We light a candle and keep it burning throughout the day for those who have died within the past five years. And this place beside the candles is for people to display photographs they want to share with the others. These here are pictures I took at the last powwow, back in April.”

Gale and Samantha looked over the fifteen or so photographs. “This is going to be a really big event,” Gale commented.

“You’re telling me!” Claire said. “Those tables Jack, Tuki, and Luther are setting up will hold all the food. In fact, would you mind helping me with the table cloths?”

“Not at all.”

“Of course.”

A woman walked up from behind with a tray of crafts, and Claire introduced her as Kennie, explaining that the three furthest tables displayed the art of various tribe members, available for others to purchase. “Some of my jewelry is over there, and Kennie’s beautiful wind chimes and wampum belts, and Stacey’s turkey feather capes. Stacey should be here soon.”

“Here I am,” a voice called out as a short woman hidden by a pile of feathers appeared.

Claire introduced them to others as more people arrived, some with sandwiches and finger foods, turkey legs, corn on the cob, baskets of fresh fruit and vegetables, salads, desserts, water and tea dispensers, ice chests full of drinks, paper products, instruments (a flute and rattles), and other items to be used in the celebration.

One new arrival set up a case of plexi-glass on the table near the family trees. He explained that the case contained the sticks banded together with the first records of their people, dating back to 700 A.D.

“Oh my God!” Samantha inspected the long chains of sticks comprising several rows and bearing images and symbols she could not understand.

“You understand them better with the stories,” the man explained.

“Samantha!” a woman’s voice called from behind.

Donna and Wëli Nisha, followed by their three children, and all dressed in Native American clothing, crossed the chamber to greet her and to meet her father and grandmother.

After another two hours of setting up, as more and more people gradually arrived, the moment had arrived for the powwow to officially begin.