Kinlani

Kinlani

It was early November and the pine trees were shaggy ready for winter.
The place was Kinlani, some called it Flagstaff up in Northern Arizona.
The Old Man had gotten up early and shoveled the driveway to the rented
home they lived in. The air was clear and frosty, the snow crunchy in
the way it sounded under his feet.


Let’s go to town, he said when he came in and those four kids, three
boys and one little girl were dressed and out the door in a minute,
pulling stocking caps over their black hair. There was Sonny, Franky
and Henry, and there was Sharlene, the little one. They were just in
elementary school and they scrambled out after him. He walked fast that
Old Man.


One time when the kids were home, their Mom was talking liked she used
to do when she washed dishes, and the kids were sitting around the
table. She was talking about him, their Dad, about how they got
together way back when, and that now he sometimes just acted like an
old man. She said it like that, he was the old man. The name stuck with
him after that. He was their Old Man and he walked with them
everywhere.


He came from the reservation and his English wasn’t too good, he could
understand it fairly well but had a hard time speaking it clearly. He
talked only when he had to, so he was pretty much quiet most of the
time. The place where they lived was a small apartment unit, there
were three of them close together and they shared a common driveway. It
was two bedroom place but they all fit in there, it was enough room cuz
they lived across the street from the forest.


The Old Man took them for walks every day into that the place of tall
pine trees and pine needles and underbrush that covered the ground
making a natural carpet. Those kids knew the forest and all the things
about it. They learned to sound like blue jays, making that sound with
their lips after hours of trying. The Old Man used to sit on a rock and
it seemed he could talk to them and they would come to the place he was
sitting. He could sound like a squirrel and the sparrows were just too
easy for him. He would just sit there and show them and they would try
all day long to make that simple sound.


It was Cherry Street they lived on, at the end of it near the park and
a stone throw away from the forest.


Old Man walked ahead of them and they caught up and they walked all the
way down to town, where the stores were. It was a Saturday and there
was snow on the ground and they dressed warm as they sloshed through
the snow. They liked to go to town with him, because he went to the
stores would look at the toys there with them. His eyes would light up
as they picked them up and played with the toys too. He was sort of
quiet and shy and though he lived in the town, he kept pretty much to
himself, just working and then taking walks with the kids.


They walked by the bank, the Valley National Bank and there in the
parking lot there were all these people standing around, they stopped
and wondered what was going on.
As they stood there one of the young men from the bank came by them and
gave each of them a ticket, be here at noon he said and went the next
group. Not much was happening so they left. The oldest boy, Sonny took
a pencil out of his pocket and wrote Old Man’s name down and dropped
the ticket in the basket as they left. They went over to McClellan’s
and got an ice cream cone for nickel at the lunch counter and Sprouse
Reitz to look at the gold fish in the tanks. They dropped by the Candy
Box, a small store next to the Orpheum Theatre and picked up sample of
salt water taffy and went over to Firestone to look at the bikes. They
took their time looking around and thought about Thanksgiving, and
wondered if they would have a turkey, a really big one so they could
fight over the drumsticks.


Thanksgiving was a few days away and they were still looking for a
turkey. It was between paydays and Mom forgot to get a turkey and now
they were broke. It was quite a worry for the little kids wondering
about Thanksgiving. There were turkey pictures everywhere they went,
and pictures of pilgrims and haystacks.


The kids always wondered about Thanksgiving because they were Indians.
Little Sister used to wonder what Indians were like and when she would
ask about what Indians were like. Her brothers would tell her she was
Indian and they weren’t, they were Pilgrims and she was left there with
them. She used to cry and Old Man would tell her it was all right to be
Indian because he was one himself and they knew things other people
didn’t know. He would tell her to make sounds like him, and she sure
could like that blue jay, just like the ones by where they lived. He
told her it is like that, you have a gift. She didn’t quite understand
it but she quit crying and everything was ok again.


As they walked over to the grocery store to buy some hamburger to take
home, the stopped by the bank parking lot. It was full of people, maybe
a hundred or so. There were all kinds, some were White, and some
Mexican, and Billy Ware was there he was Black, and they were looking
at the back of pickup truck parked there. A man was standing up calling
out names, he said, we have given out nine prizes and have just one
more to go. He talked about the bank, and how they liked everybody and
wanted folks to come see them on Monday to put their money in there.


The kids asked Old Man was going on and he told them they were giving
out something. They were going to leave but they had to fight the crowd
to get to the other side, which was their way home. As they moved
through the crowd, the guy way up front called out a name. It sounded
familiar and they stopped to listen better. He said it again, and it
was his, Old Man’s. He just stood there with a blank look on his face;
he was too shy to say anything. He didn’t like crowds and being called
out like that was not work going up there for any prize. The announcer
said, we will call out the name once more and if there is no answer
then we will draw again.


Sonny yelled out, He is right here!


The Old Man stood there as the crowd parted and everyone looked at him.
He didn’t say a word and Mexican next to him said, Hey, you won.


His kids pushed him from behind and he went up there slowly. When he
got there the announcer held up a gunnysack and pulled out a big
turkey, it was there for all to see. He gave it the Old Man and the
crowd clapped and groaned at the same time. Someone had claimed the
prize a 28-pound turkey.


It was a little after lunch time and the kids stood by and watched as
the bank people lined up the winners with their prizes and they took a
picture of the winners. They were lined up there all of them, some had
big candy canes, one had a sack of potatoes, and another a bike, and
one a barbecue grill. Near the end, there was this one guy dressed with
a red jacket, and payday overalls, his hair was black and you could say
he looked like an Indian guy standing there with a big turkey in his
arms and he was smiling.


It was the first time he ever won anything anywhere. Just out of the
picture those four kids of his were just proud of their dad, the Old
Man. It was in the newspaper, most folks didn’t pay it any mind. It was
a long time ago, and the turkey was cooked for Thanksgiving and after
they ate, Old Man took his four kids and they went for walk into that
stretch of pines in Kinlani, which is what the Navajo call Flagstaff
and they learned to sound like a turkey.
rustywire