Nothing is more important really than staying connected with other people.  Yesterday, I was thinking about the ways we do that nowadays.

Early yesterday, I posted a happy birthday memory about my maternal grandfather.  Soon, Mother, in Pecos, emailed a response saying how much she enjoyed sharing those memories.

Cool G (Greg Nelson) has been researching my ancestry and helping us to find new connections with old generations.  We are surprised and very proud to learn that we are direct descendants of the last great Choctaw chief Mushaltubbee.
We have mixed feelings about our great white ancestor, Governor John Winthrop of the Massachusetts Bay Colony.  He was apparently a very stern Puritan.

Mary-Margaret became interested in all aspects of Greg’s research and has been doing some of her own.  She wanted a book about the Winthrops and I had Amazon deliver it to her on Maui.  And she sent along a halloweeny article “Choctaw Bone Pickers, Burial Customs and Superstitions.” http://headboardsofstone.blogspot.com/2009/12/choctaw-bone-pickers-burial-customs-and.html.  Enjoy.

Both Maui girls make regular moves on our on-line word games.  I also keep in touch with Terri, our honorary sister, this way.  Katherine recently had to forfeit our Words with Friends game.  She was too busy with exciting things going on with her professionally.

Yesterday, it was all about football.  I was watching two games at once all day, not because I particularly love the game but because I love the people I “share teams” with.  Joannie, Mother and I were following the Tech game, simultaneously, if not together.  (Gotta root for your alma mater.)  I had to keep texting Joannie the scores because she was busy with coaching duties.

Later, I watched the Wyoming game. A local boy who is the grandson of my neighbors, is their star quarterback.

And then, the Ducks were playing their big rivals.  When I first moved to Oregon, I thought it was very odd how people who had never even attended either the University of Oregon or Oregon State were either Duck fans or Beaver fans.  I decided to join the fun and am a Duck fan.

All “my” teams won.

I love staying connected.

Today Joannie is in Lubbock helping to coach a Pecos Swim Club team.  Our alma mater, Texas Tech, is across town playing Iowa State in Jones Stadium. And I am out here in Oregon texting her the scores.

When I was a little girl in school, October 12 was Columbus Day.  We sang about how in 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue in the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria.  It never even occurred to me that this might not be a thing that all people thought was just great until I came to teach at the Indian school

In 1901, on October 12, my grandfather, “Papa,” was born in Indian Territory.

Some years ago, I wrote this:

INDIAN TERRITORY
 
My papa was born
in the Indian Territory
and went to The Jones Academy 
Indian School
where he learned
not to look like an Indian
not to talk like an Indian
not to think like an Indian
not to be an Indian.
 
Dressed like a white man in his 
Oklahoma Highway Patrolman uniform
he bounced me pony-boy on his knee
and always called me his Grandbaby
and sang me songs like Old Blue
and told me silly rhymes like
Jeannie-kah-feenie-tee-ollie-go-leanie
tee-legged-tye-legged-bow-legged Jeannie
and whispered in my ear that
Choctaws are better than Cherokees.
 
That was just about all
they let him remember
and he had to whisper it.
I know more
than what they let him keep
but they are other people’s memories.
I had to steal them
off plain flat grave markers
or out of a roll book.

One day not long ago
I sat eating cold baloney sandwiches
with yellow mustard on Wonder Bread
served up by the women of
the Choctaw Presbyterian Church
way down near Broken Bow.
There I stole some more memories.
They all wear nikes now
in case they ever get sent off
on another long walk.

Just about all my grandparents and great grandparents lived very long lives and I remember them all.  But Papa died a young man. Still,  I remember many things about him.  He was a tall, handsome, proud man.

I remember hearing when he was about sixteen and Indian Territory was the “brand new state” of Oklahoma, he was sent off to Vladivostok in WW I.  I remember a picture of him in a doughboy uniform.

I have this picture of him taken some years later when, for a parade, he and some other officials rode their horses.  I got to sit in front of him on that horse, just for a few minutes.  I was very little, but I remember it.  When he surprised me and came  by the house, I was still wearing some fuzzy little animal slippers and I was afraid they would fall off.  He reached over and made sure they were safely on my feet.  Funny the things we remember.

Papa is the second on our right in this picture.

I see on my Maui calendar that in Hawaii this date is called  Discoverers’ Day and commemorates the Polynesians who came to Hawaii in their outriggers.  Still, many indigenous people protest on this date.  I don’t remember Papa ever complaining or protesting about anything.  He was very interested and involved in local politics, though, and he did have some strong ideas.

As for me, I remember how important celebrating birthdays and other holidays was to Papa.    Happy Birthday, Papa.

I have never been one to argue that the original intent of the framers of our constitution should be held as sacrosanct.  There is just too much they could not foresee.  Here, for example, is one such thing:  I am certain they never intended that our government should be run by politicians.

It was a dog party over at St. P’s last Sunday.  It was a huge celebration for all in attendance, although, I do hope if some folks were visiting for the first time they are animal lovers.  Otherwise, they will be off to another parish next Sunday.

Roxie had had a bath the night before and was generally being her usual well-behaved if high-spirited self until she spotted her good friend Lizzie Miller going down the side aisle with Susan.  She pulled her leash out of my hand and dashed out for a greeting.  There was nothing for it but to sit together during the service and to go for a walk in Bush Park during communion.

All the music and the sermon were appropriate. During the sermon, whenever a dog barked,  the preacher responded with “and peace be with you.”

I thought the offertory anthem which was sung by our littlest choristers was just right:

Today we celebrate a feast, a holiday for man and beast.

We think of every friend who speaks, barks, and purrs and roars and squeaks.  

As we sing, we keep in mind beings of a different kind.

Bless all creatures here below, Lord, from whom all blessings flow.  

Together with our pets we meet new friends with whiskers, tails that greet.  

Muzzles wet beside our cheek show us love they cannot speak.  

Hold them tight so they will know, where we are, they too will go.

 Bless all creatures here below, Lord from whom all blessings flow.

Lord, here beside our friends we stand, their earthly care within our hand.

Watching those we hold so dear, we can feel your presence near. 

When we come at last to you, let our creatures be there, too.

Bless all creatures here below, Lord, from whom all blessings flow.

Of course, the hope that these, our very best, truest, and most faithful companions might be with us later on is thought, by some, to be heresy.  I don’t very much like folks who are so sure of such things, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be where these folks are later on.  You tell me who are the only sinless ones in God’s creation, the ones who are in no need of redemption.

Dogs and cats were blessed at St. P’s on Sunday.  They bless us every day of their lives.

(photo credit Jim Sellers)