What a summer, and it’s not over yet. It will go down as the summer Michael Jackson died, the summer of high unemployment and a shifting economic system. It will go down as one of the hottest. The heat is what’s on everyone’s mind. I knew Oklahoma was going to be hot as I made my way there with a vanload of grandchildren for Green Corn. It was hot in New Mexico when we started the journey, and even hotter in Oklahoma. I bought an outdoor thermometer and took it to the ceremonial grounds to see exactly how hot the temperature ran. In the sun, the temperature read 120 degrees! In the shade it dropped to 112. Tonight, a few weeks later, I listened to the news of record low temperatures in the Midwest. These high and low running temperatures are Earth’s fever and chills. We are Earth. We’re in an unstable condition. We are headed for some rough ecological times.
It’s not every summer we make it back for Green Corn. Last year I couldn’t afford the plane fare. This year I returned to New Mexico, and because the journey is over land, I can drive. Early Friday morning after arriving, two of my granddaughters and I headed over to the grounds to set up. The oldest is Haleigh, just turned sixteen years old. She listens deep, beyond the frequency of chatter. Desiray Kierra is a fresh and fierce thirteen-year-old. There’s so much to tell them, so much they need to know as they begin their journey as women in a world of immense changes.
We left from my sister’s house in Glenpool and took the back route. This meant turning off the Beeline east at the Beggs exit, then taking a road south, some miles on the other side of Beggs. I trust that I will once again recognize the turn and the zigzag out to the ceremonial grounds.
Several turtles crossed the road. I angled to make sure one who was in the path passed safely beneath the van. We braked for a butterfly. Within a few miles we veered into the opposite lane past the body of a coyote who had been hit by a car. Buzzards fearless with hunger lifted when we passed, then they quickly landed and continued their feast. “They’re doing their job,” I told my granddaughters. “We all have our tasks in this world. These days, we humans have been more trouble than help with our trash and amusements.”
I told them to make note of signs. We can forecast with clouds, shapes, by watching the animals and how they are moving about the earth. We began looking for the road south. I don’t recall the name of the road because I know it when I see it. Yet, as we continued driving west the landscape began looking unfamiliar. We were surprised when a bird dove close and glanced off the front of the car, and relieved when it flew away unhurt. Then immediately ahead of us, to the right, we saw a crow surrounded by three sparrows. They berated and dove at the crow. I pointed this out to the girls and I turned the van around. Within a few miles I saw the road south we’d missed. The usual landmark of building and signs had been razed and the corner was now a flat field.
We continued toward the ceremonial grounds on that old road that goes from great grandparents, to grandparents to mother, daughter and to granddaughters, with our ribbon dance dresses, cooking and camping utensils piled up in the back. “This is where we come from,” I told them, “and where we are going. If you pay attention to the signs, you will always find the way.”