Tuesday, November 24, 2009

remembering the way it was

Remembering the way it was…

I dreamed I stood with my grandson, I am an old man and we came to my pot on this mountain top. I have been here many times and with me, all those that have come before have taken a little of their vision and shared it with me.

I can see far and it pretty, clear across the valley and all the places there. My great grandson has helped me to this spot. I cannot remember his name, but he looks a little like me when I was his age.

His body is young and strong. He helped to stand tall and erect. I told him the story of his fathers and how we had survived to bring him life. His eyes are bright, wide and innocent. He listens patiently to the
rambling talk of an old man.

Look over there, that is the place I have spoken about, it is a spring. There you will find fresh cold water. When you are thirsty you can take a drink and wash yourself on a hot day. You can lie down next to it and
enjoy the day.

He looked at me and said, I can't see it. I can not see so clearly, but I know it is there. I tell him how it sits against the mountain, how the earth is cracked there and a small stream flows into a pool, somehow made through time. My vision is not that good. I tell him how it has always looked.

There is nothing there, Shi Che' (honored grandfather) There is only a road and an oil well.

Oh, yes, I remember. The tribe was having a hard time and so the need for money was great, those were tough times. Someone needed the water to put back into the earth to bring up oil way down there, below. My spring is no more.

Where have we gone with these things? My great grandson, I am sorry it is not here for you. I did not take care of it like I should have and now it is gone. I can't remember all that was here, but yet some of these things are gone.

Remember, my grandson, there was a time when it was there and that it refreshed us so. I wish I could give you a drink. How is it so that this water is gone forever? Who can take away water, but yet it is so.
The grass is gone and so is the quiet spot. I stand here, and those behind me in the shadows, my fathers weep and so I find myself standing with tears streaming down my cheeks. I feel old and tired and my soul
hungers for what was once ours. My heart cries out a mourning song for the morning dove, the plants, the mountain tobacco and the quiet times that are no more....

Johnny Rustywire Rustywire@yahoo.com


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Monday, November 23, 2009

shamans & soothsayers for hire

I am still in Albuquerque working on some things taking a little time
off. I spent a part of yesterday looking around Santa Fe, and a little around here. There are many ads for nativism,medicinewheels, spirit healers, native pathways and in them I read, that the various groups had statements to the effect that someone with their group had practiced and learned from native healers.

I read a passage while sitting in the Frontier restaurant this morning near UNM that by reading the message I was being blessed for reading it and would find and end to my troubles and woes. I met some people here, including Dude Perry of the new nativehealers.org and formerly of medicinemanforhire site. I was not impressed with him to say the least. He may be a good man but did not convey any spirits to me. He did not have much to say and I will leave it at that.

I would like to state publicly that I am against the
abuse of native religion, medicineman practices by charletons. Who are these people, there are many, the speak in quiet voices, sing incantations and carry their own spirit and the type of spirit it is does not carry tradition nor have any semblence to native practices. I condemn them, the propogate healings and use the guise of native americans as a means to take the innocent in and take their money. I am disgusted with it and there are many. I find no good in them, that is my opinion.

they called themselves "E-YEIS"

Lunchtime at JB's and a step in time fifty years ago to Flag Bordertown Dormitory, the Litthe Eagles in Flagstaff (KINLANI) Arizona. About a week ago I had the chance to have lunch for a friend who is retiring after a long in time in law enforcement. I almost did not make it, getting there late things had already started and found a spot at table where three people were seated.

I sat down quietly and watched and listened as presentations and talks were made. This place was near Salt Lake City, quite a ways from Navajoland. It was interesting to see that these three seated were of my own people, older and grayer than me, so I was just a kid to them. There was a couple and an elderly gentleman sitting there.

After a time I heard thay had travelled from Rough Rock a place near Many Farms, a place midway west of Round Rock and Rough Rock, they told me they were "orphans", because they lived in an area between all the chapter boundaries but had chosen Many Farms as their place, I guess what they were telling me was they lived way out in the middle of nowhere, far off the beaten path.

They had come quite a ways to have this meal for their relation, a cousin to them. After a time we started to talk and when I told them my name they looked at me and said we know someone with that name who worked at the Flag Dorm. I knew then they were talking about my father.

It was this table I had visit with my Father's boys. You see sitting there, it was like going back to my youth to a time when my father would come home and talk about the boys and girls at the Flag Bordertown dorm where he worked as an aide. You have understand my father was a quiet man, but he loved to talk about traditional things, his experiences and wanted to preserve a little of what he knew so he started an Indian Club and taught these young people how to dance and sing.

After introducing myself, I found that Hosteen Tsinijinnie and his wife were there during the time my father was there. They were children then and school teachers now, the mister is at Rough Rock and his wife she is at Kayenta.

After the talks and eating were over we sat and talked over a cup of coffee. Tsinijinnie said when he heard my name he had to ask me, do you know this person. I told him he was my father. A look of recognition and remembrance came over him and he then said to me, your father taught my traditions, to sing in Navajo and to dance and how they were done.

I looked him, his hair is going gray, but he said I taught my children what he taught me and so now they know these things too. I felt humbled by his words, because he honored my father by this. His wife also was there during that time and had been involved in the Indian club my father had put together and they did performances for the school, the public and other students. This couple met there, and ended getting married, had children and now their children are now grown.

Seated next to me was a man, Larry Gene, a water engineer by chance, who
got in his truck in Phoenix and drove many hours to come North to share
this meal with his uncle who was retiring. His hair is a little gray
and his smile was easy.

He spoke about the dorm, and remembered the old pine trees just outside the fence in forest, there he had put up some wire cable and set up a "bucking barrel". He said he learned to ride bulls on that barrel, and the dorm attendants would take it down, and they would put it up again to ride. I suppose that barrel is still there just South of the dorm.

I remembered his name, as well as many others and we spoke about some
of them. These are the ones I remember, the Sloan boys, Calamities, Etsittys, Yellowman brothers, Jackson boys, Whitehat boys, Rockbridge, Clahs, Bedonies, Silentmans, Neztsosie, and many others. It was like going back to when children played, they called themselves "E-Yeis", a child's funny name.

I sat there and saw the kids of my youth, young and strong and full of hopes, dreams and a smile thinking about those times.

My father spent many hours with them and many others, their names come
to mind, some have gone on and others have left to who knows where. My
father was a simple man, he loved to sing old Navajo songs, and made
many outfits and practiced his singing over and over again. He used to make the boys and girls learn the dance, where to stand and how to move. Some of these dances were the ribbon dance, dances done at sings, yei-be-che- fire dance and many others. He would fashion the outfits and then sing the songs when they performed.

He made feathers dance in a basket and he could dance ye-be-che again and again teaching the young kids how to move, and to make sounds like a hooting owl, a blue jay. and others. I can sstill ee him getting ready to to perform for the annual outings and performances they did for the dorm.

At times he went to the parent teachers nites for some of these kids,
one time I remember he walked clear across town for one of the Sloan boys during the winter snow. We did not have a car then but felt he had to make a showing for them those Sloan boys from Marble Canyon, and worried about others.

My friend Andy Tom who was retiring was one of them, and having a meal with them was visiting my father, he lives through their memory and they gave me a look at those times from long ago.

There were many things we talked about, the huge playground the forest made and they told me some things about my father I didn't know and also about a whole bunch of kids that we knew who are now all old folks I nd where they have gone I don't know. I told them my father spoke about each of them in his old age pulling out the school yearbooks and pictures and telling us funny stories about that time.

My father passed away in 1991. Having lunch with them was nice, I can't
remember what we ate, but it was a good meal. I guess it is that way
with such things. We go on and hopefully do somethings right and I am
glad to say I am my father's son. Francis Cambridge, some called him
Jackie Gleason, but he didn't like that too much but now when I look at
his old pictures he did look a little like him. Anyway that is what I
saw when I sat with Larry Gene, Stella & Leroy Tsinijinnie and Andy
Tom, a part of the ones they called, "E-Yeis".... ..


rustywire

Medicinemen for HIre

Medicineman, A Singer
by Johnny Rustywire


I have taken a look at the Medicinemanforhire website and have found
there are some Navajo men, the Morrisses from Sheepsprings offering
their services as practitioners As medicinemen/peyote men. I can not
speak for them but these things I remember
An old man and women rode a matched pair of horses down a long windy
dusty road somewhere over by Cow Springs, Tonalea. They carried saddle
bags filled with hard goods, turquoise and silver jewelry, heavy stuff.


These would be offered to the man they were going to see. He was of
simple means but known to many, even these two who had travelled a 100
miles to see him. They had left a couple of days earlier from the
Chuska Mountains crossing along by Star Mountain, skirting Canyon De
Chelly, past Round Rock and straight on to Rough Rock and up over Black
Mesa.


Their clothes were dusty and worn but they carried with them a request
that this Singer come to the their place to restore harmony. A call had
gone out after the family and all the relations sat down for a meeting.
Someone was ailing and it was decided a Singer was needed. There is a
man from way over by Cow Springs someone said and so the old couple
wanted to go. They had not been that way for a long time and they
wanted to see this country again, so the horses were fed and watered.
Family brought out the hard goods, heavy bracelets, three conchos made
in the last century by Slim Silversmith. It was good, they packed it
away and set out to the west.


The family scattered out into the area, there had to three places found
where those families would host one night each. The sing goes on for
three nights and in a different place each night. Preparations for a
sing, cutting wood, gathering plants, these things are what nalis
(aunts) do and the old Che's (grandpas) do as elders, they talk about
the important things, who was to sing, take charge of the animals,
gathering food, blankets, and help from the local area. Each went his
way to different places to ask for help and support for this ceremony.


As these messengers went out, they would come to a place far from where
they had started. On sighting a horse rider, the children would run
into the hogan or chao-, shade house and summon the older folks and
parents. In some cases the rider would go up to the place and someone
from inside would say, Ohshde', come in, and so they went in and sat
down reaching for whatever the family was eating without asking and
sharing a meal.


After some food was eaten they would commence to say in the long way of
doing so, the circumstances of what happened at a certain time and
exlain the need. That is how it happens, someone gets ill or sick and
so that is why they are there. The family considers this and after a
little bit offers what they can, coffee, beans, a sheep, a son-in-law
to chop wood, maybe a singer who can make the feet light in the night
to the sway of many men and women who sing. My father was one of these
men, he could sing all night and his voice carried far
There is a cedar log bonfire. It is a beautiful thing to stand near the
edge and look out on a group standing close together in the night, not
too far from the fire. They sing long and with a rhythm learned over a
long time. Some call this a squaw dance, but it is really called a
Night Way, there is social dancing to bring good spirits to this place.
They sing all night; their voices raising and following the embers that
float into the night sky.


A little ways away there are those who dance to the songs as a group on
a simple dance floor cleared in the brush. It is ladies choice, women
in shawls move about and with a swish, a touch call on the men to
dance. The men have to pay, some a dollar, others more. Some want to
run and hide, others dance while the stars move slowly across the sky,
it is a good night for all.


Not too far off there is movement not seen by many of those there. They
come quietly without a sound and they have names like Corn Bug Girl,
Pollen Boy, Monster Slayer, Bear Man and many others who move in passed
the ongoings outside into the hogan, to the heart of it all. They step
into the circle of the Rainbow Guardians and look about them at the
Singer who has called them there.


This old man from Tonalea, he speaks each word carefully and slowly,
taking care to do everything right, this is his time and he makes it
so. Each grain of sand has it's place, each rattle and song giving a
call to those that can provide the restoration of heart, mind and soul
to the patient sitting quietly listening and learning.
I stand not too far off on the outside and take a rest on the blankets
set aside for me. My grandmother and mother are making bread for
tomorrow, kneading it so it is just right. As for me I take a break and
lay down for little bit. I can hear them; those outside and their
voices hanging in the air. Yasho, I am Navajo, Dine', I am glad to be
born during this time. I shall dance in the house of my mother and sing
in the places of my father, Dinetah, within the Four Sacred Mountains
there is no other place for me...


Medicinemenforhire, can offer me nothing..nothing.

rustywire rustywire@yahoo.com

she has laughing eyes

she has laughing eyes

take your shoes off grab a cup of coffee and sit a spell
and let me tell you about a place not far from here really

not so long ago maybe a day, a month, a year
it was just yesterday when the sun came over the mountain
and I stood under the mountain
at school, a college up north
where the walls were gray granite
and she was sitting there in the hallway
wearing a sheepskin levi jacket
her hair was long and her eyes were dark
she had laughing eyes
sitting there waiting
not for me

hey there
she didn’t even look at me
i sat down on the floor
she opened a book
where are you from
i was young, tall and thin
wearing levis and converse
how could she not look at me

she just sat there and turned away
looking down the hall for someone else
her brother I knew I had heard
they called him Indian
i knew him years ago
she had dark eyes

she had laughing eyes
she had laughing eyes
she was notahi
she was hotahi

she moved me
not even saying one word
it was all in her eyes
she wouldn’t even talk to me
she wouldn’t even talk to me

way later there was a night
an Apache girl said come on by
so I went over to find something to eat
and there at the door was this girl
the one who wouldn’t talk to me

she had laughing eyes
she had laughing eyes

In those days
I had no money
Just 35 cents to my name
a load of wash to do
a load of wash to do

she came walking on by
so we talked for a while

maybe an ice cream cone
she looked at me
come on let’s go over there
it just across the street
just one
so we walked on down there
bought her one, plain vanilla it was
she said don’t you want one
no, no I said, I have eaten already

it sure looked good
it sure looked good

It started to snow on the way back
she said I have to go
she left me standing there
so I ran after her
to walk her home
she was faster than me
running like a wild horse
she stayed in front of me
all the way to her door

so that is how it was with this one
she had laughing eyes

so that is how it was
back in the day
a day went by
a week
a month

she came away with me
she came away with me

and then one day
way out in navajoland
not too far away really
just a step away...

up on star mountain
so sila butte
ip on star mountain
so sila butte

the embers of the fire glowed dimly
inside a hogan
facing east
early morning dew
covered the ground

cold it is
the air hanging with the mist of early dawn
morning
morning

the sound of soft wind
leaves rustle
the blue jay sings

she lays there
she lays there
on an old iron spring bed
the ends are cold pipe
they are gilded in silver
I see her long hair
long black hair
she moves in the early light
a Pendleton shawl covers her
red, white and gray it is
her hair streams down


a small smile comes to me
how could this be so
she is just like a new day
catching my breath

she lays next to me
just right there
the night gone
laying here
we are running for dawn
slowly it catches us

soft light caresses her so
slowly
ever so slowly
her hair covers me
so black
it covers me wholly
there is nothing like it

her dark eyes so soft
the taste of sage hangs in the air
I have been blessed
see this early light
she lays there
she lays there
dawn has blessed me
dawn has blessed me


her eyes glisten
her brown skin touches me
her long black hair
hangs down
the taste of dawn is sweet
the taste of dawn is sweet

rustywire rustywire@yahoo.com

Go on and on

I have been thinking about the dream of standing with those of our people who died at the hands of the cavalry, some who were slaughtered and their lives cut short by hate and ignorance. I see that in standing with them that there is a link, a tie that binds us to them and that is to survive.

In many of the songs, stories and healing rights, the beautyway overcomes the plagues, demons and sicknesses caused by desire, greed, selfishness, and external forces that wreak havoc on the human body and spirit. In thinking this way I think we are tied to the land, to the world, the spirit of it and so it is a part of us. Sometimes these forces place us in a position where our spirits desire to leave our body.

The word survival comes to mind, in the songs, of my own people and those of others dealt with overcoming our own frailties to restore balance, harmony and control by ourselves our body, spirit and how we deal with the environment.

In a real sense, we are here today surviving the last century and the
beginning of new millennium because one of our grandmothers and Grandfathers endured pain, hardship, cold and hunger. I often times can see them just as in the dream of yours. I cannot tell you or describe at times the thoughts that come to mind in the way of living they made when hard times came to them.

In our stories the Twin Heroes, Monster Slayer and Child Born for Water, these two fought creatures who brought death and destruction to men, but also sought out those beings that are responsible for famine, old age, hunger, sickness, greed and others. When they cornered them, these beings said, if you destroy us then men will not know what it is to know these things. When you look at it, the stories are old and come from a time.

Yet they persist and some have been lost, but they continue like us because they have survived. These beings as they were confronted came forward and said if we are gone then the people will not know what it is like to have known life, to taste sweetness, caring, compassion and survival of the body and spirit.

We go about this world confronted on many sides by things that overwhelm the body and spirit and each of these afflictions is known to each person regardless of where we come from or our heritage.

Grandmothers, Grandfathers and my grandchildren. Life is about the bright spirits I have known who knew what it was like to enjoy a summer day, a cool breeze and life with its good days and bad. Many, oh so many are not here anymore. I am not sure why or where they gave up or had their lives taken from them, but they are no longer here. I see them in my mind and remember their smiles and good days. When I go home sometimes I find that more have gone on and they are no longer here.

What is it to survive to overcome our own pettiness and self doubt. I have seen death, sickness, suicide, unhappiness, wanton lust, selfishness, and greed mixed with alcohol, recklessness and despair.

Where are some I have known, and cousins, those that I grew up with, they are gone, all of them, they live in my stories but they are not here anymore. I sometimes cry out of loneliness for them, because I miss them so. We laughed, played and lived together and had such dreams. Suicide, drinking, car accidents, sickness, and being victims of violence have taken them all from me.

Shi Dine' nshli', I am Navajo, I have survived. My hopes, dreams and taste for a better life are all I have to offer my children. I do not know where they will go and I have not seen the faces of my great grandchildren but I want them to know that I have survived for them to give them life and it has not come without its price when there was no written language but just oral history.

Where are these that have gone on before, who suffered so much and now are gone. Where are their dreams, good days and hopes. They lie in me and that is why we have to go on, to survive. I would like so much to have more, to be better off, to know all there is to know, to experience life in all places, to see the earth. I think I would like to see it through your eyes.

It sounds crazy but often I find myself looking at those around me and
wonder how it would be to be them for just a moment. We go about as strangers to one another but there is so much to see in just one life.
We cannot know what life is about unless we reach out. I am not a preacher or know about all the things of my people, the legends stories and practices.

They sometimes come to me like a long lost memory and as I get older I see the value to it all. The thoughts of survival of the human spirit are eternal, and with it the balance of life where I stand not above it all, but that the taste of red earth is in my mouth, that the plants, trees and rocks run with the red of my blood, that when I speak that I am just one voice and that it sounds out like a bird taking flight, the sound of a mountain lion, the squeek of mouse and we go on all of us together.

Where are those hopes for a better life, where is the glory of life, the beautyway taking the best of life and continuing. It is in each of us and we have to strive to make life better for us, our family, in each day as it comes.

In standing with you in your dream, I would tell you if we were faced with a volley from the cavalry, I would push you and tell you to run, to live, to go on and speak about life, and tell your children that we lived so that we may continue on until we are nothing but a thought and in this we have survived and all those that came before. We have to go on and we do through you. So take heart, touch your hand and face and know that all that came before live through you. Take heart, life and know it's sweet taste and go on and on and on. rustywire

Friday, November 13, 2009

an indian woman in a bar

It was a night some time ago, when a trip off the rez took Chay to work in a far off city and staying in a motel he went to find a place where there was some music.


There was a place downstairs, the motel had a happy hour and some of the people who were there with him were in the lounge; saw them and went over. Some of them had already started drinking earlier in the day and were getting rowdy and loud so he left the place and down on Central.

There a place that played Blues music, so he went in and found a spot in the corner when he saw her.

Halloween had come and the night had fallen early, the little kids dressed as ghouls, goblins and witches were out. It was at the mutual help housing area in Fort Defiance called Rio Puerco, where apartments and houses were all crowded together and many of the kids from the community and outlying areas like Red Lake, Blue Canyon, Coalmine Road and Hunters Point had come into do some trick or treating. It was a good night for it, the night air was cool, not too cold and there were all kinds of kids out.

Chay had taken his daughter and son out and were finishing up walking back toward where they lived there, when he ran into one of his co-workers from work. She was out with her little girls and at times since they worked together for a while n the same place they would talk about their families. She was Pueblo, from Santa Clara and was known as quite the pretty one and that got her noticed and she was moved to the front office to work for one of the tribal department heads.

They were headed in different directions when they saw each other. They had gotten along well after three years in the same office but hadn’t seen each other because of work in different departments for some time.

How’s is going there Ms. M?

Hey, Hi…just out with my girls….she looked good.

Their kids ran to the doors around the circle where they were standing talking, Chay and Ms. M.

How’s your old man?

He’s working tonight; he’s got graveyard shift at the mine, so he’s gone in early.

Oh, so you are the lucky one…she smiled at that.

So do you still want run away with me? …her hands were full, her 4 yr old was pulling on her…Mom let’s go…we have to go…

She said, you want me to wash your dirty underwear?

Sure, holes and all….they talked for a while and made their way together to the nest block, where they found a spot in the middle of the street and the kids hit this circle of houses about seven in all and they talked and kidded with one another. Pretty soon it was time to head home and so they said, Good night, but there was slowness in their leaving the spot where they stood, but Halloween treats took over and so they headed off on their different treks…

It had been a year or so since he had seen her, but in the mean time, her little girl who was 8 had been playing outside near where they lived, and been run over and was gone. He had heard about it and wanted to drop by and see Ms. M. but she wasn’t working there anymore. She had left the place. He heard stories about her…..that she was often seen sitting at the graveyard near her daughter’s grave and talking to her even though she was gone….people started to talk about her and then he didn’t hear anything about her anymore.

Chay sat down and listened to the music and from across the room could see that there was this Indan woman sitting at a table alone, her back toward him…she looked familiar to him in a way….

He sat there and drank his drink, and she turned toward the band and it was her….she looked like she had been drinking for a while…she was still the same but really worn, the shine was gone. He walked over to the table she was at and sat down….she looked at him…but she was in a different place…she looked passed him….recognized him and said his name…but nothing more…she took another drink and said…buy me a drink…..

In the days of their working together their time together was at work, they were married and they knew it….they got along well together, but he wondered sometimes about her and wondered about her husband who liked to step out on her, but he didn’t think she knew about it and never mentioned it. He sometimes thought about how it would be to know her…to go home to her…to make her children his…but there are things that remain unsaid, but sometimes the slightest gaze, or unexpected touch being together all the time working together was sometimes more than just a touch, but they knew themselves and let it go….so it goes sometimes, but he wondered about it…..

He thought about her drink, it wasn’t a good idea…but she asked again in a low voice…Chay, can you buy me a drink?

What are you doing here, I mean I didn’t expect to see you here….

She looked at with bloodshot eyes….my husband left me, so I moved here…she looked like she hadn’t changed her clothes for days, her hair was combed but it needed something more….

It was near Two Gray Hills, when he was out herding sheep with is Grandpa that they walked from Two Gray Hills over the Red Rocks to the South along the hogback to a spring that was in the rocks. Chay, his name in Navajo is a way saying Grandpa, it was a name used in referring older men, who with age had lived a long life. It was those who men who had way of talking to you so that you could understand some things about life. His Shimasani-Grandmother was the same way, and this day, they talked about red sash belts that were worn by women and girls during sings, and special occasions. They were used to wrap around the waist of women and used during Kinaaldi, and during child birth.

The colors of it are red, with white, stripes of green and a little black. As they sat down, the old man talked about how difficult life is, and that men have to be able to the hard things of life. He spoke of women as being the ones to have a softness like gentle rain, that they raise the children, caring for them, and looking after them from the time they are born, so that each child born is tied to his mother and the sash belt represents that as the red is for strife, blood and hard work, the pain of bearing children, raising them, seeing them grow, and caring for them in sickness. He explained the use of the belt in certain ways during sings, and the wrapping of it. He said some look at it like just a cloth but it represent much more, and in women you have to understand that you were a part of them, that you were formed in them, they carried you, and you were born and so you are tied to womanhood forever.

He spoke about the stories of the Twin Heroes, and the story of how one young man layed down with girl he had met at a sing at her Hogan and that during the night he was overcome with a sickness, a feeling he couldn’t control because he was so close to her. He said you don’t understand this sickness but some day it will come to you and you will find that there some who will chase this feeling all day, looking for it whenever they got out and see women. Chay remembered looking at him like he was crazy, because he didn’t understand what kind of sickness that could be.

He related the story of the young man long ago, and that he stayed all night with the woman, he woke up and found that he had been with a young girl that night but woke up with an old hag, and that she was his wife…so he ran away and she ran after him….and he is still running from her and she is still running after him all because he didn’t listen to the people who told him to be careful with such matters and he wasn’t. That is how the old man talked to Chay during his days of sheep herding, and Chay listened to many stories about such things over the summers of his youth.

Sitting there with this drunken woman, to those that were there, they could see that she was an easy pick up because that Indian guy just came over and bought her a couple of drinks and she got up and left with him.

Later that night, as he settled in….he could see her sleeping on the bed just a few feet away from him and he would drive her to Santa Clara in the morning and thought about the things he had learned in his youth and went out of the room and found a phone and called home….and Chays’ woman answered. She asked, is something wrong…

No, he said, I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice…and thought she is the mother of my children, a gift from Changing Woman, an Indian woman who waits for me….so it happened some time ago….

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