Stomp Dancing, I Love It

 

The Mid-America All Indian Center sponsored the American Indian Festival Pow Wow in Wichita. It was a great event. It might be smaller than some, but it is only three years in tradition. I think it will grow. It was an amazing event from beginning to end.

We arrived when the doors opened so we could visit all the vendors before the dancing started. There were local vendors and vendors from as far away as New Mexico. All things were lovely, and I chose to bring home something quite different this time. I almost always choose turquoise, a stone of balance and peace. This time I chose pure stone ear rings made by a person in the Santa Domingo Pueblo near Albuquerque. Each color represents a natural stone ground and inlaid in to fit the pattern. Yellow is different for me, but hey, it is time to spring out a little!

 

One of the first programs was presentation of the painted horse. A man showed how a war pony was painted and what the symbols meant. The horses used were far from a lithe war pony used by war parties. Instead Percherons, a draft horse, that pull visitor wagons at Cow Town were used because they were used to crowds. Those horses never blinked an eyelash while being painted. I think they are beautiful animals; their coats looked like brown velvet stretched across their broad beamed frames.

 

Once we had shopped, we noticed the line for Indian Tacos was getting quite long. The poor hot dog vendors were lonely, but it wasn’t even noon yet. So we got our Indian Tacos; they were wonderful! They were worth the trip for sure. You haven’t eaten a taco until you have eaten one on fry bread!

 

 

                                              Chief Dancer, leads entry

The announcer then called for people to line up for the grand entry. He said the events were starting right on time, not Indian time either! Grand entry is so moving. There is a Chief Dancer who leads the entry, followed by American, MIA, state and tribal flags. The National Anthem is sung in a Native tongue while the center drum accompanies the singers. Then a series of contest dancing and inter-tribal dancing starts. You can’t hear the beat of that Southern drum and not want to pound your feet!

                   Picture by Michaela Myer, note beautiful swing of fringe

The clothes and dance regalia is vibrant and unique to each person, each tribe. The women dances are slower and use jingle dresses or shawls or both. I talked to one woman who was wearing a beaded shoulder cape that shined under the lights. It had been in her family for over a hundred years.

                                     Picture by Michaela Myer

 

The men wear more feathers, more colors, and spin and stomp. I liked the men’s dancing best of all. These dances are now for competition and awards like they used to be for war or hunting preparation and recognition of honors as a warrior.

 

 

So many tribes were removed to Indian Territory during the Western expansion. Many tribes lost a large part of their people to disease, hunger and the elements, not to mention murder. The people who survived were just that-survivors. Their story is sad but rich in history and pride. Many Native Americans served in World War II, and they are justly proud that they could be true warriors when needed even if for the people who lied and cheated them. As Will Roger is reported to have said, he was mostly Indian but had enough White blood he couldn’t trust himself to tell the truth!

Mini Trip to the Prairies

 

The middle of July and wanderlust forms while heat dampens the real urge to move. Like an elk in rut season, the Ruby Sliver snorts in the garage with sights on the West. A mini road trip was in order.

We headed for Wichita but by dropping down into Oklahoma first. We headed west out of Bartlesville (yes, a shame we did not stop!) for Pawhuska. This small town we passed through a few years ago on our way home from New Mexico and always wanted to see more of it. We were too tired then for looking. So we did it on our mini trip.

 

The town has seen better days, has that down at the heels look for small town America right now. I’ll wager soon it will on the map again for this building as Ree Drummond is restoring it right in the middle of town. Followers of the author/cook will not find this news, but I did .

 

Pawhuska, named after an Osage chief, is the home of the Osage Nation. We looked up a small museum in the collection of Osage Nation offices. It is small and their claim to fame right now is ten busts of Osage citizens done by the Smithsonian in the early 1900’s. The Native American sculptures are in storage, and the Smithsonian is selling to tribes as their money allows. They are beautiful busts of noble living people from that time.

I know the Osages from history here in Missouri before they were pushed into Kansas. I grew up in Kansas about ten miles or less from Osage Mission which was founded by St. Louis Jesuits to educate the Osage. Also north of my town was a settled of Osage who lived near the Neosho River. My farm boy buddies often found arrow heads when they plowed. When the Osage were again pushed in to Indian Territory, they bought their own land rather than be beholding to the government. Ah, and there was oil under that land later.

The land around Pawhuska is gorgeous rolling hills for grazing. I was so enthralled I forgot to take pictures until we were almost at Ponca City where the land turns a bit, gradually forming the rich farm ground for row crops leading into Kansas. I always love the prairie and the plains where you see vast horizons of sky.

                                      Mock up of a wrangler's bunkhouse

 

I hated to leave the Osage man who was telling me Osage secrets, but we had to move on down the road. Once over the border into Kansas we stopped at the Cherokee Strip Land Rush museum. A very small museum also. One wall had a picture of Native Indians with a title of A New Beginning referring to the land rush that opened up lands for settlers. Somehow I think that should have been Endings as far as the indigenous people were concerned since now the White Man would be settling land once used for hunting and passing into other hunting lands.

 

                                         Old cracker tin in prairie home display

It was the end of the day and 102 as we headed into Wichita traffic. We found the Watermark Bookstore with ease, had a sandwich, and to show our exhaustion, I could not even look at the books! We headed on to our son’s to rest up for the American Indian Festival Pow Wow the next day.

Who Was That Masked Man?

 I was so tiny I hardly remember the stories, but near lunch each day I used to listen to the Lone Ranger on the radio while my mom fixed lunch. Once he said, “Hi yo Silver and away!”, I knew lunch was about five minutes from the table. Clayton Moore’s Lone Ranger and Jay Silverheels’s Tonto on the television is my stronger memory. I sat on my living room floor in front of the tube waiting for the famous white steed’s heels galloping across the screen in “cloud of dust and the speed of light”. I have waited over a year for the new Lone Ranger movie. Even after I learned it was a tongue in cheek version of how the legend came about, I was anxious to see the movie.

I wanted to be sure and see this movie because at least twelve of the filming locations were set in New Mexico. I wasn’t disappointed by what I saw. The film had beautiful scenery capturing the thrill of the Old West. When I saw the characters pounding out the spikes on the railroad, I could almost feel the red dust on my face.

While I would have preferred a real western drama, I was not disappointed in the film since I knew what to expect. I mean a bird on a Comanche’s head? I don’t think so. But Johnny Depp did a fine job with that crow on Tonto’s head, although my favorite roll of Depp is still John Dillinger. (Women would consider becoming bank robbers for sure if they followed Johnny Depp’s Dillinger!)

I was entertained all along, even during the scenes that rang of mediocre melodrama, the kind where the damsel was tied to the train tracks. The ivory leg hiding a soiled dove’s gun was believable to me But the final chapter of the story was outstanding and worth the ticket price. When that William Tell Overture began to pound in my chest, I felt like standing up and waving our heroes onward.  Runaway train, impossible escapes, thrilling maneuvers to match any Bruce Willis stunt was engrossing and even finishing off with a silver bullet! It was a summer movie after all, the kind where you engage your willing suspension of disbelief, gorge on popcorn, and come out trilling the Lone Ranger song; I got my money’s worth!

_____________________________________________

There are a lot of markets opening up right now. I think I got the following from the OWL web site for those writers who are interested.

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: Maine writer seeking personal essays and poems on grief/grieving for loss of person, pet, or figurative “loss” of someone to Alzheimer’s and the like for anthology in progress. Essays each no longer than 2,000 words; poems any length each up to 4 pages double-spaced. No limit on number of submissions; cutoff date, Sept. 30, 2013. All submissions acknowledged. Queries and submissions by USPS to M. Leamon, PO Box 113, Casco ME 04015, or e-mail to: griefanthology@gmail.com

___________________________________________

"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry."

                                                                   William Butler Yeats

When the Smoke Cleared

The nice thing about the Fourth of July is seeing family and friends gathered together for food and laughter. When the sun shines and water sports are involved, it is nicer still. However, I am getting old enough to see firecrackers as just money going up in smoke. I have to wonder what makes men (usually men) love to hear a rib-rattling kaboom in the middle of a lovely July day.

Yesterday while the neighbors slept in, I ignored the call to exercise and toted a tray of tea and muffins to the deck. I knew that both the quiet and the cool would not last so I wanted to linger in outdoor tea time while I could. It seemed like a perfect time to start two new books, vastly different stories.

Alice Hoffman’s Skylight Confessions was a bargain book and started off with the usual peculiar voice that Hoffman writes in. All of her books have a touch of the mystical while being anchored in a realistic setting. This book was no different, and it kept me reading for several pages before I switched to non-fiction.

By the time DH joined me at the table, I was well into Chris Kyle’s American Gun: A History of the U.S. in Ten Firearms. This seemed a perfect Fourth of July read to me, but DH looked at me shaking his head. He, who thinks reading means Forbes, Baron’s or a stodgy book on investing, was amazed at my reading a book on firearms. But this country was formed by the “shot heard around the world” and right now guns are a hot issue with our lawmakers so it seemed fitting to me. The first gun discussed is the Kentucky rifle bringing up visions of Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett. I am anxious to read more.

By noon the air was sounding and smelling like we lived on a gun range. I decided to blow my own smoke and came inside to submit some pieces I had ready to go. It felt good to toss myself out there once again. One was a piece with dialogue only which was a real challenge. For writers wanting to try their hands at the same, go to http://pen-keyboard.weebly.com/ to learn more about this contest sponsored by some Oklahoma writers.

While on the internet chasing down some things, I found a delightful picture of my Dad’s cousins from WWII. How appropriate to find this on a day we celebrate freedom. Through a related essay, I located one of the men’s sons, a down-the-line cousin who lives in Canada. I am excited to exchange emails with this new found relative, to share stories.

The day ended with a covered dish supper with friends. The food was excellent and the company was good. It was a nice Fourth of July…..

Monday On The Deck

It was cool enough for a flannel robe this morning as Storm and I once again headed out with a tea pot under a cozy and an oatmeal muffin. I also took a stack of “work” along. I set up my laptop, put cell phone at the ready, arranged notepad and pencil, and I began to wade through magazines and saved articles while jotting down ideas I wanted to pursue. No one was mowing and neighborhood was quiet. I gave up on attending a morning meeting, and once “free”, my mind got down to business generating ideas and possible paths for exploration.

The August issue of The Writer was extraordinary with so many great articles. An interview with Elizabeth Stroud really primed the pump of my brain. I love her novels for the most part, but I think Olive Kitteridge is the best. The voice this author found to write in is challenging and unique.

I learned Natalie Goldberg has a new book out. I loved her Writing Down the Bones but have been disappointed in some of her later works. However….my fingers and Amazon went to work to get the new The True Secrets of Writing on its way to me.

Interesting lines about internet use from the magazine:

“If we stop exercising our mental skills, we do not just forget them: The brain map for those skills is turned over to the skills we practice instead."

"...the Internet can become the antithesis of creativity."

I studied True West and found this issue of that magazine great too. With eighteen train rides in the West, I think I have one or two we might want to check out soon. DH loves steam trains! We have ridden at Chama, New Mexico; Alamosa, Colorado; Van Buren, Arkansas; and Durango, Colorado to name a few.

A writer group in Edmund, Oklahoma is running a unique contest. It is 750 words or less in NOTHING but dialogue. I want to try this.

I never got to novel reading today, but there is always tomorrow which is to be a cool day too. I am already making my plans, writing my list!

What about you? Have you ridden steam trains?

 

Writing OpsThe After Coetzee Project, an anthology of fiction, seeks short stories that bring forth a new kind of writing about animals, one that disengages from speciesist fictional strategies (animals as metaphors and allegories) and reimagines animals as subjects.

Please see the full call for submissions at http://aftercoetzee.com. Deadline to submit is December 1, 2013.
___________

Minerva Rising is an independent literary journal celebrating the creativity and wisdom in every woman. We publish thought-provoking fiction, non-fiction, photography, poetry and essays by women writers and artists. We are now open for submissions for Issue #4.

Minerva Rising Literary Journal is seeking short stories, essays, poetry, creative non-fiction, original prints, graphics arts and photographs for our next issue themed "Mothers". Please visit our website for additional submission guidelines: http://minervarising.com/submissions/
Deadline: August 15, 2013
Award: $50 for literary works, $35 for poetry and artwork, plus contributor copy
Reading Fee: $15 per single literary work, 3 poems, or three photos/pictures

Feel free to contact us with any questions at infoATminervarisingDOTcom.

________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

Last Day of This June

 

Days of summer spool out across June.

Book in hand, icy tea glass at elbow;

I hear July knocking at the door.

 

 

 

The first third of summer fades with today. We have had it all this month. Storms, heat, sunshine, rain...pain, death, illness...joy, blessings, laughter.

Unbelievable cool came in last night and this morning it was 60 degrees on the deck first thing. Out came the tea pot and cinnamon orange tea! Grand dog Storm and I headed out early so as to not miss a moment of the morning beauty.

 

Cottonwood leaves whisper under gauzy clouds,
Song birds sing greeting songs,
Tea leaves unfurl in china cup,
Morning is welcomed!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The summer issue of SEK Living is out now and I have a poem on its pages. This magazine celebrates the little corner of Kansas where it is hard to find page burning items to print. But the young and  enthusiastic editor is working hard trying to make the pages compete with the Big Boy Press, and it shows. Kimber is finding all kinds of things to celebrate and history to study. Sometimes we have to take the small things and look at them deeply to find new and interesting details. The pages in the magazine are lovely with outstanding photographs too. Try it; you will like it!

 

Going to Wichita

Wheels rolling to Wichita

We pass fields of thumb-sized corn.

Two leaves, like moth wings on each plant,

Flutter in hot breeze, begging for moisture.

As we cross the state line,

Fields become green, vibrant as funeral grass.

Spring wheat of Kansas promises good yield-

If rain comes soon.

 

The ribbon of road pulls us into the Flint Hills;

We face a sherbet sunset, apricot and raspberry,

While traversing land undulating like a rocking sea.

Brown stalks of prairie grass, stiff as goat hairs,

Winterized and dry stand on the shoulders.  

 

Small fires intermittently smudge the horizon,

Ranchers burn off winter, making way for spring.

Barbed wired fences, tightened like braces on teeth,

Stretch between Osage Orange fence posts

Or limestone pillars dug out of the plains.

 

Ponds are half normal size, look thirsty for rain.

Creeks barely flow, exposing flat rocks in their banks

Precision-layered like artichoke leaves.

A few wildflowers interrupt the harmonious hues

With neon shades of Oz yellows and blues,

 

While hills and washes lift and fall,

Working Midwestern soil same as centuries ago,

New highways move through the landscape,

Skipping business districts and neighborhoods,

Now making some ghost towns.

 

Eternal land leans out effortlessly

To meet the edge of sky.

A drive across this ground comforts.

Wipes away stress, calms heart beats,

Synchronizes our inner rhythms with nurturing prairie.

 

 

I got a call last night from and editor wanting to use my story "Rabbit Hunting". This was great news, and I love being published in Rosebud as I am in great writing company there!

 

So now on with July, wondering what surprises and shocks it will hold for us. There is no way but forward to find out!

 

"In the novel you get the journey. In a poem you get the arrival."  May Sarton, poet

 

"When you put down the good things you ought to have done, and leave out the bad things you did do, that's memoirs."  Will Rogers, humorist

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saturday Centus/White Man's War

Today for Centus, Jenny gave us a picture prompt. The flag picture seemed right for Fourth of July moods. So in 100 words writers were to respond with fiction or poetry. For more entries, visit Jenny at http://jennymatlock.blogspot.com/2013/06/saturday-centus-week-167.html
There are some nice entries and my own fiction is below.

                                                                   

 

 

                                                   Not Just a White Man’s War

Kelcie was from a family who would not talk. All family stories stayed buried by agreement. So when Uncle Milo White Bear asked for help cleaning out his garage in order to move to assisted living, she was astonished he would let anyone help.

 When she pulled out a ragged flag from the hump-backed trunk, she asked, “What is the deal with the torn flag?”

“Anzio. Our flag was being battered,” he said simply.

“And…,” she urged.

“So I took out two machine gun nests. Showed ‘em. Chief still a warrior!”

His bent fingers stroked the tattered flag.