My Mother's Mother

A week ago today my family and I celebrated the life of my Grandmother. I think I've finally come to terms with everything....

I was asked to speak there and I did. In dreams I was overcome by the spirits of first my grandmother and then my grandfather. In fact, I wrote it quickly after the first dream....but the dream I had the next night made it clear that it wasn't quite finished. Grandpa always said if you are going to do a thing....do it right. He loved my Grandma too much to allow me to neglect certain aspects of her personality...most notably her damnable determination. Both frustrating and admirable while she lived, I completely left it out until the second dream.

Below is the memorial speech I gave in honor of my Grandma...I'm not really sure if I wrote it. It is pretty much exactly as I recited it with one small exception...the minister who spoke before me also stated he felt touched by my (very very determined) Grandmother and felt that she wanted him to include the same poem she directed me to say...so I didn't repeat in my speech it but I left it in the version below. LOL....guess I should have tried to go first....

Grandma always said I had a habit of using $20.00 words for a $5.00 message. I'll try to keep this on the cheap side. There aren't enough days in the year to share all the stories I would like to share or for you to share back anyway. I just want to give your memories a nudge and your heart a smile. I think that is all Grandma wants me to do anyway.

Some would say she had her ups and downs and no doubt she would say that too. I'm not here to talk so much about that. We've all had them. She handled them better than most.

As far as I've ever been concerned, she and Grandpa were the greatest influences in my life and the people that I want most to be like. They may not have been rich in dollars, but their lives were more valuable than all the gold in the world. They were plain people who could have had more for themselves if they had been willing to do less for others. They chose to enrich others instead. In the end, thier legacies to us are far more valuable than any money they could have left us. They were good people. We were truly blessed.

We are here to remember Grandma today and I guess what I'd like for us all to remember most is not that she died but that she really live, not quietly, not sorrowfully but loudly and boldly. Some would even say she was a bit of an eccentric. She'd like to hear them saying it too!.

She lived life on her terms and to her own satisfaction as much as I think any of us really can. In that way I like to think I'm a little bit like her. I think most of you are a bit like that too. As a matter of fact, I'd go so far as to say we are kind of known as that kind of family around these parts.

Waneta Rogers was an amazing woman. She was not much bigger than the leprachauns she tried to convince me still lived in Ireland. She dyed her hair bright red to give the world warning that she was a firebrand. She worked and played harder than men 4 times (not just twice) her size. Even so, she was completely feminine. She kept up her appearances and never let the world see her down. Grandma even dressed up and put make-up on before she went to the Salvation Army store (which she called the Sally-Shop). She mended and restyled her purchases so well that people would often comment on her fashion style and try to get her to reveal where she found such lovely pieces. She told the truth, but was seldom believed about it.

Grandma was a capable woman. There wasn't any person or any situation that she couldn't handle effectively. She could manage my siblings, my cousins and me all at the same time with a single look and she could make everything right in the world with one sweet smile. Heaven help the poor soul that would try to harm one of us. She could handle them too!

Let us remember, with a glad heart, the woman who defied convention and married an Indian when that just wasn't done. Let us remember the woman who tamed that wild giant of a man too. She never judged people on something so minor as the color of their skin, she made friends based on the content of their hearts. She was a supportive wife, a loving mother, a thoughtful sister, a wonderful friend, and the kind of grandmother that all children wish for. She was known as quite the character too! You never knew for sure what she would say or do next but it was pretty hard to be bored around her. She was interesting all the time. I don't think I ever heard her use the word *bored*. I don't think she knew it. I'm pretty sure she never was.

I'm also sure she wouldn't be pleased if she were to look down on us and see us crying or whining about our loss today. You all know that she didn't like cry babies or complainers much. I should know, when I was a child I was one. She had a few colorful sayings for that type of behavior. *Youknowwhat or get off the pot!*. If you don't like it then change it. Seriously, Grandma could have written Nike ads. Just do it! It was impossible to be wishy-washy around her. She simply would not stand for it.

Lord help you if you ever said the word *can't* in her presence. Actually to this, I can almost hear her reminding me that *the Lord helps them that helps themselves!*

I can honestly say that without this not-so-gentle wisdom from Grandma, I would not be who I am today. Chances are neither would any of you.

So lets not cry today. If you must shed a tear let it be a tear of joy for being so lucky to have been a part of her life. Lets celebrate her! Lets be grateful we have such a wonderful legacy in her memory. Grandma was a fireball! She was an oddity! She was freakin hilarious most of the time! She was also courageous and kind. She was smart, especially in politics and current events and plain spoken. She never pretended to be anyone she wasn't. Of all the people I've ever known, she was the most comfortable in her own skin. She was true to herself. We should all aspire to be more like her in that way. She was a practical woman. She never wasted a thing and was recycling items long before it became the *thing to do*. Waste not. Want not. She had her priorities and she lived by them. Family came first, then friends, then strangers. She never cared about any material thing. She only cared about people. Especially her people. Especially us.

She was the first one I ever heard say *Dynamite comes in small packages*. Truer words were never spoken.

We don't want to forget her people watchers because it was a really warped sense of humor that came up with that one. I swear I was afraid to misbehave because I just knew that Grandma could see us through all those magical (as she told me) eyes.

Remember the unusual knick-knacks and collectors items she called dust catchers, but couldn't part with. That's because we kept giving them to her. It was never the decorations she liked, it was having little pieces of us around that she couldn't give up.

We don't want to forget that she would help out her neighbors and welcome strangers either. She defended her family against any danger that came and never backed down from evil. She was something special. When she had a word or two to say, EF Hutton listened.

Let us remember those gentle hands that could give us a man size whoopin or an angel's hug depending upon our needs at the time. Let us remember her eyes crinkled in laughter or touching our soul in the few tears she shed. Don't you forget that stubborn chin either! When she was right she was right.

I won't forget her determination. When she couldn't drive any longer, she took up riding that adult size tricycle, despite the fact that it really was way too big for her. She was something else! If one solution didn't work, she always found another. Long before people ever said the words *failure is not an option* she was living them.

Some would say our life is less now that she is gone....not me. My life is *more* because she lived. My life is more because every lesson she ever taught me comes up again and again. She made sure I had the right answers. How can I cry about her death when I still feel her life in me? I still see evidence of her in my children. I can look around and see evidence of her existence in each of us here. When I look at my daughter, Grandma's eyes smile back at me. I still see her. I still feel the love she gave us. Its that voice in my head that tells me in very colorful ways to not give up when things get tough. When I fall I can hear Grandma snickering and telling me that my backside isn't going to do me much good sitting on the ground like that. Her invisible arms still comfort me in my sadness. Her wisdom keeps me from being too hypocritical. I hear her laughter everytime I see some really bizarre knick knack. I think of her and she lives. Actually I don't even need to think of her first, not when I can see her so plainly in your faces.

I know she lives for you too..

So I don't want to see any of you shedding too many tears.

You know Grandma didn't like crybabies.
　
Someone once wrote these words, I'm not sure who.....but I think Grandma felt this way....
　
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free


Miss me a little - but not too long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love that we once shared
Miss me - but let me go


For this is a journey that we must all take
And each must go alone
It's all a part of the Master's plan
A step on the road to home


When you are lonely, and sick of heart
Go to the friends we know
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds
Miss me - but let me go

　

Thank you.

Better Days

That, Dear Readers, is my one and only photo of my grandparents together. Years ago I had many photos of my Grandma, but as many of you know, I had a terrible apartment fire where most of my photos went up in flames. It was years before I tried my hand at photography again. In fact its only been a couple of years now.

This photo means so much to me. I know those of you who have known me for a few years could probably tell stories about my grandparents yourself now. I have quoted them and written parables about the way they lived and loved so much. I've actually saved many of the emails I've received about these stories because your responses touch my heart.

I'm not sure how old they were in this photo. It doesn't matter. Can you see the love in the way they stand so close together. Grandpa is supporting her back with his arm. He always did that. If you look closely you will see that my Grandma is looking upwards at him, usually he was looking downward at her. Usually they were smiling, but they were probably just pausing before leaving when this shot was taken. It looks as if Grandpa had just opened her door for her. Just one of those common ordinary things he always did for ladies that ruined me for all other men I think.

I received this photo in my email yesterday from my cousin Janie (Freckles on Multiply). I cried when I first looked at it and I've been flooded with happy memories ever since. It was the first of many happy lucky events that make me feel as if my run of sadness and frustration may be coming to an end.

Seriously, it wasn't just the deaths of my Aunt Ethel and Grandmother. Those losses couldn't be overcome by a simple photograph but I seemed to have stopped feeling sorry for myself over them. Self pity is such an ugly thing.

There was a lot of bitterness with the last break-up though, not to mention annoyance because he was having such a hard time accepting the truth. Then there was annoyance at other guys for approaching me as if I were single and didn't want to be (i probably would have been annoyed if I hadn't been approached too...hey I can't help being female). Work has been frustrating and busy. My GM has been out ill and the Front Desk Manager and I have been trying to cover all the little things she needs to manage from her sick-bed so she only needs to come out for major things. I've been doing my job ok but computers keep breaking down (we really need to replace some important ones) and to be honest, its getting harder and harder to bring them back to life. I've been getting frustrated with my coworkers because I keep having to show and tell them the same things over and over and over. I've been repairing things left and right at home too. I forgot to renew my license plate and insurance on time. Now I have to find new insurance before March 3 (I don't actually have to...but they ticked me off by trying to raise my rates!). I did actually renew my plates on time but I live in fear of getting stopped because I haven't received my sticker yet so all I have is a printed out receipt until it arrives, probably tomorrow. Then I blew out a tire yesterday on the way to work and it took all day to find someone who would put my doughnut on for me. My brother came through for me though. (My second bit of luck....He always does. Bless his widdle black heart. I'm a lucky sister.) Then the tire shops tried to rip me off wanting over $120 to put on 2 USED tires. I told them No and decided to give it a day so I didn't shoot anyone.

Then I came home and my luck continued to change, I received a call from a guy I actually am interested in getting to know better. He seems to have the same interest. I've known him for a while but not well. He doesn't seem dweebish, he's not a jerk, and he appears to be absolutely normal at this point. He's more than kinda cute too.

Today I replaced those tires for get this $35! It was supposed to be $40 when I called and I was pretty happy with that...but since I smiled so pretty he called it ladies day and knocked $5.00 off the price. Yes that included putting the dern things on too. The tires are nice too. I probably can get a year and a half off of them.

Then I went to the Supermarket and no joke, virtually everything I bought was on sale and I got a couple of free hoosier fries because I made the girl at the counter laugh. Seriously. I spent $88 but I saved over $40.

I stopped off to buy gas and the guy at the gas station gave me an extra 2 bucks free. Seriously. I asked for $10 but he set it for $12 and when I went back to pay for it, he said No no no....free to me.

Then I came home and took a nap.

As Princess of the Universe, my daughter, Cecelia used to say: "Tomorrow is gonna be a great day!"

Reflections about Grandma

I can't write about my Grandma and not write about myself and the other women in my family. Somehow we are one and the same. I have often written about the women in my family. We outnumber the men, I think its probably about 3 to 1 normally in our genetic history, though sometimes it seems closer to 4 to 1, my siblings are 4 to 1. I have a saying, *We don't have an x gene, we have a capital X gene.*

We women absolutely adore the men, they are a jovial bunch! They kind of have to be, a sense of humor is a must when you are surrounded by wildly passionate females. The women are all strong. At risk of insulting the men, we are the strongest gender in our family. We never give up and we are the ones who inspire or force the men to become the leaders that they usually are. Even my mildest female relative, my baby sister Rhonda, who I've often mentioned, is a handful. No one else but me would dare call her mild. We all avoid confronting each other. We know that we are formidable. Nothing is more hair raising than to watch two women in our family disagree. Personally I'd rather fight a thug from the streets.

This sisterhood is passed, it seems, down the maternal line as well. My sisters and I, despite the differences we note from time to time, are really quite alike. We have the soul and the passion of our mother and our maternal aunt. Our mother and our aunt had the soul of our grandmother, who from what I understand inherited her spirit from her mother, whom I never knew. We all may have bits and pieces of our fathers in us, they pass on beliefs and kindness to us. But the truth of it all is that without this *never say die, never give up, never give in* spirit in our female lineage, I think our family would have died out during the potato famine in Ireland. That is when another woman, down the female line, raised her numerous siblings and made it to America, her siblings in tow. The next generation of females, which include my spirited daughter Celia, are even stronger.

On the outside and to outsiders we may appear to be socially acceptable and appear to be ladies most of the time. Appearances can be deceiving and so can we. The women of our family never needed the women's liberation movement. We never needed a law to tell us that we are as good or as capable as a man or to demand and receive justice in a man's world. All we ever needed was recent family history. We usually outwardly conformed to the social rules of history while breaking numerous conventions privately. Unless we didn't care a flying uknowwhat, then we would break the rules and damn the consequences. History repeats itself alot in my family.

My Grandma skipped school one day and married a Cherokee boy. When she married him interacial marriage was illegal in some states and unacceptable everywhere, especially in her father's house. Native Americans were in the same boat that all other dark races were then. To say that my Grandpa was a wild one would be an understatement. He was huge too. He was a golden gloves boxer who stood over 6'. My Grandma was about 4'11" and small framed to boot. To say she tamed him would be a misstatement. She directed his energy though. Because of who she was, he became who he was. There was more power and intelligence in her small form than in any man he ever met, I'm sure. He was wise enough to note that. He never treated her as *the little woman*. My Grandpa was the bravest man I ever met, but he knew better. The things I remember most about their relationship are that passion and love were ever present. I don't remember ever seeing any indifference there, like I see in most couples after a time. I remember, even while I was just a young girl barely curious about sexuality, that they were very romantic towards each other. Very touchy-feely. They argued from time to time too, but even that was passionate and full of love. When they did argue, it seemed as if two sides of the same person were reflecting on the wrong that the feet had done to the hand when the body fell down. I used to love to watch them make thier morning coffee when ever I stayed there. It was like the whole thing was a choreographed dance. Grandma would take the pot apart and Grandpa would reach for the coffee. She would fill the pot with water and he would lift it out of the sink.... It was a beautiful sight. Always, when I think of what I wanted life to be like for me, that was it. To make coffee together like we were one person.

Grandma was a beautiful woman, but she didn't really care. I remember convincing her to wear more glamorous make-up in her middle 50's once. She humored me and wore it all day, but I knew she thought it was ludicrous. I thought she looked beautiful. Most of the time she wore nothing more than a little powder and lipstick. She did like jewelry, especially earings. She used to tell me I was naked without them. Its funny....she didn't care about how she looked so much, but she did want to put on a good face and maybe a little bling bling for the world to see. She was naturally a platinum blonde. She dyed her hair red for as long as I can remember. I asked her about that once. It seems that when my handsome grandfather was at his peak as a boxer he quite naturally enjoyed the attentions (without cheating in any form) of the women who flocked to him a bit too much. Grandma would, of course, get rid of those ladies in short order but she began dying her hair red to give them (probably him too) warning. I can only assume it worked. If Grandpa was admiring the ladies, I know I never saw it. Smart guy. She wasn't really jealous though, it was more of a pride thing. Those women should never have dared to approach HER husband. It wouldn't surprise me to learn she had actually kicked a few asses to tell you the truth. I think I would have. Ok truth be told, I have.

She was always about family. She loved her man, she loved her children and she loved their offspring. We never doubted her love, though there are times we questioned why. I'm not writing about the failures though. We all have them. I am writing about the woman who loved anyway, even when some of us did not deserve it. She somehow made time for each of us. We all have wonderful stories about our one on one time with Grandma. She tried to be wise, but she never spoke as eloquently as she lived. Grandpa was the talker, she was the doer. She used to make big Sunday friend chicken dinners and she would squeeze as much of her large family as possible into her tiny house. She seemed to live for the banter that went around the dinner table. I learned just as much from watching her do what needed to be done as I did listening to Grandpa speak about social issues. Her actions reflected his words. Grandma did not let important things go undone, she never let the unimportant cloud her vision. She was the essence of practicality. She paid attention to the whole picture, she didn't get stuck on the details like the dreamers in our family. Grandma pulled us all together when we were trying to pull her in different directions. She was like a lighthouse. If we felt sad or confused, we could go to her and she would busy us with tasks and we could think uninterupted. My mother has been growing more and more like her these past years. Trying to keep the warring factions at bay, trying to spank the dreamers among us back into reality. I feel kind of sorry for Mom. For having such tiny feet, Grandma left big shoes to fill. Mom is the matriarch now and the family is bigger than Grandma's, probably even wilder now. Grandma and Aunt Shirley are watching down on her I know, and will lend guidance through dreams, but my poor mother has a passionate bunch of women to guide and prepare for the next generation. It isn't easy. Not when we all have that bloodline of strong women. There's that capital X gene again for good or ill. I hope she can keep Grandma's sense of humor amidst it all. She's going to need it now.

I didn't mention my Grandma was funny did I? OMG! She was outrageous. Grandma would take us shopping at the local department store and go around sniffing toilet paper because she wanted to find the best smelling one. She would sniff loudly and pretend not to notice the other shoppers! Must be where I get the playing pranks on strangers thing. Another thing she would do at the store is let big stinkers, sometimes big loud stinkers and then loudly blame it on my siblings and me. "Tressa ANN what did YOU do?!?!" she would say as if she were disgusted and scolding me for my behavior. I would blush and get so angry and she would just chuckle all the way home until I was laughing with her even while I was praying to God none of my friends were there. I can remember her tricking me into annoying the neighbors with my off key clarinet playing by convincing me that I was so good she wanted the neighbors to know how much better her granchild was than their children and grandchildren! She did the same thing with me reading out loud. As a little girl she built up my ego so much that by the time I went in to get my tonsils out (4 years old) I had an attitude that commanded me to steal all the toys from the hospital play room. I then locked myself into the bathroom and refused to come out because I knew I deserved all those toys more than the other kids. When the nurses were finally able to restrain me (it took massive doses of sleep meds and a net over the crib they were trying to keep me in), I fell asleep ranting about how they could not do this to me and that I would tell my Grandma and she was going to be really mad because she said I looked just like Shirley Temple and was going to be a star some day. Yeah, Grandma could convince me of just about anything and she had a lot of fun doing just that.

There are lots of things I could say about her, she had the patience of a saint. She must have listened to the "Disco Duck" 100 times in a row one day because it was my favorite song at the time. She actually tried to learn to dance *the Hustle* from me. She let my friends spend the night and we painted knick knacks all day. She never told me to shut up (she whispered to mom to tell me though I am sure). She forgave almost anything. Her heart was always open for the love of her family. She wouldn't put up with shit out of any of us though. You haven't been told off until she got a hold of you. She was brave too. A year ago she tried to take on some neighborhood thugs while spending some time at my Mom's. They backed down. I bet she made them feel guilty about their own grandmothers. They probably hung their head in shame just like I did the few times she felt the need to straighten me out. She was protective of us all. I remember when I was about 13 or so, she caught my sister and me talking to boys and first she chased them off with a switch and then she chased us home with the same one. She loved that we were all such pretty girls but she thought we shouldn't trust boys. Wise woman sometimes. When she moved back to her hometown for a while I used to write her from time to time. I remember once I thought it would be funny if I corrected her spelling and grammar. Ok I was probably showing off too. I only did that once! Trust me, I was TOLD. She used to say I used $20.00 words for a $5.00 message, I think I finally understood what she meant sometime in my early 30's and I toned it down a bit. People liked me more after that.

I loved my Grandma. I wasn't good about visiting her as an adult. I will regret that forever I guess. I bet she would tell me not to worry about it though. She knew I loved her and that was enough. She was enough for me.

Breathe in, Breathe out, Move on.

My grandmother passed on yesterday. I'm still dealing with the guilt and the poor-me's. I think I'm coming to terms with it. The thing that bothers me most is that for a period of time she felt physical pain. She had gangreen. She would have died soon anyway. She was 92. Basically my family is very lucky to have had her as long as we have, still we would have greedily accepted each additional day if we could have had them.

I'll write about her more soon. She was an amazing woman. Everything is too fresh now.

Today is my birthday. I knew she wouldn't die today. She would never do that to me. I knew it would be on a plain ordinary date so as not to dredge up painful reminders year after year. She was always so considerate, never wanting a fuss to be made.

We haven't made any solid funeral or viewing arrangements yet. I'm still waiting for my parents to call with something definite. I couldn't go today anyway. I won't make the association between today and yesterday, she wouldn't have liked that and I don't want to make people feel like they need to put on thier happy birthday faces for me. No one is happy today.

Walter has been trying so hard to make me happy today. I keep trying but all I want to do is sit and stare. Most people haven't remembered and I am ok with that. If I could have changed the date I would have. I just wish I could take away the regret from my friends and family when they realize they forgot me. I wish they could just forget completely until next year.

I'm breaking up with my boyfriend too. I would have done it already but he has been angry since I decided to visit my Grandma last Saturday with my sister. (that visit is how we found out the seriousness of this situation...but thats another soap opera). He has been totally ignoring and avoiding me since then despite the fact that he knows that I was dealing with all this. Nothing in it for him to be around me when I'm sad. I thought he really cared and I was worried about hurting him. I did care for who I thought he was, even knowing he wasn't the one for me. I realize now that I was just a free meal and booty call. I helped his position at work somewhat too. He got more than he paid for. I had high hopes that I could still be friends with him, but this hurt even if I knew already that we were not going to last. I feel stupid. Used. The truth is, he was trying to keep me isolated, and I won't be trapped again.

My resolution word last year was Hope. Good word and it was good for me to concentrate on that. This year the word will be CLARITY. My life needs definition, my truths need classification, my world needs to get organized. I've gone through a lot in the past 10 years or so, its time to start understanding what all these events actually mean in my life...time to clean up some of the debris, physically and figuratively, that surrounds me.

Today, out of the blue, a man I didn't know read one of my profiles and emailed me about the following song. Jimmy Buffett wrote it after Hurricane Katrina. It sums up how I feel today. Like I always say...Sometimes God sends you angels.

I bought a cheap watch from a crazy man
Floating down canal
It doesn't use numbers or moving hands
It always just says now
Now you may be thinking that I was had
But this watch is never wrong
And If I have trouble the warranty said
Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On

And it rained, It was nothing really new
And it blew, we've seen all that before
And it poured, the Earth began to strain
Pontchartrain leaking through the door, tides at war

If a hurricane doesn't leave you dead
It will make you strong
Don't try to explain it just nod your head
Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On

[Guitar Solo]

And it rained, It was nothing really new
And it blew, seen all that before
And it poured, the Earth began to strain
Pontchartrain buried the 9th Ward to the 2nd floor

According to my watch the time is now
Past is dead and gone
Don't try to shake it just nod your head
Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On

Don't try to shake it just bow your head
Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On

I'm breathing.

Silence Deafens

There is a lot going on in my personal life these days. Its work, its the boyfriend, its family. Its even the "orphan" I'm trying to help. I would give my right arm some days for boredom.

My Grandma is dying. I've said it now. It doesn't make it any easier. I haven't been the best granddaughter either. I only see her a couple of times a year. She deserves better. When I was a kid she always had time for me....and for my numerous siblings and cousins.

Life just gets in the way of living sometimes. There were the jobs, the boyfriends, the family squabbles. Mostly it was me though....I didn't MAKE time for her and now she is dying.

If you have a grandmother. Call her today. Visit if you can. I don't care if you want to remember her the way she WAS. You need to see her as she is now.

Tomorrow never comes. Say what you need to say.

The final version

There is a shorter version on my personal page, I posted it about a month ago, but this is the story that is being edited for the South Bend Tribune for publication sometime next month. It will need to be cut for space, I am a bit over on the word count. I wanted to present the unedited version here though.

A Cherokee Wedding By Tressa Bailey (sister of the bride) August 30, 2008, was a beautiful Summer Day. It was the end of the Fruit Moon and the 56th Cherokee National Holiday. It was too hot for an outdoor wedding, but like the ancestors that I am sure witnessed us from Heaven, we endured. This was the day that my sister, Rhonda Bailey would be joined forever with her love, Dave Buwa. Our parents (Ronald and Frances Bailey) and Dave’s parents (Marvin and Anna Buwa) had been planning this wonderful day for what seemed like ages, but was truthfully only a matter of months. Both families descend from the tribe of the Cherokee.

The guests, who dressed casually, mingled as we watched Chief Edgar WhiteWolf, assisted by his wife, Karen, consecrate the sacred circle where the wedding of my sister, Rhonda and Dave Buwa would soon be taking place. Chief WhiteWolf called out to the Great Spirit and our beloved ancestors to bless this union and all who attended.

It is interesting to note that while Cherokees are allowed to choose or reject their own mates, in order to participate in a wedding ceremony, they are required to get the favorable opinion of a Shaman. Since our tribe does not have an official Shaman, Chief acted in that capacity and met with the couple, instructed them and finally gave his approval of the union.

Most of the costumes worn by the wedding party were authentic costumes, hand made by our Mother, but our nephew, Adam Bailey, made his own costume as did the Chief and his wife. Cherokee women don't get to wear the sexy outfits that are commonly depicted in old movies. We are required to be fully covered and modest.

We entered the consecrated circle in the traditional clockwise manner, were handed a small packet and took our seats. Families sit together. Singles sit separately. The smells of sage and tobacco permeated our senses but it was a lovely smell, not at all like cigarettes, because this was untreated tobacco. The tobacco was not meant for smoking. Sage had been burned to bless the circle before we entered, much the same way that certain religions burn incenses in their churches. The Cherokee way of faith seems very ceremonial and mystical at times.

L to R, Frances Bailey, Anna Buwa, Rhonda and Dave Buwa, Chief Edgar WhiteWolf

Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other.

Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other.

Now there is no more loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other.

Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you.

Go now to your dwelling to enter into the days of your life together.

And may your days be good and long upon the earth.

The couple stood before the Chief and the mothers of the couple stood behind them. Cherokees have a matrilineal family tree. This means that family lineage and inheritance is passed down the line of the female rather than the male as is common in most societies.

Rhonda wore a traditional tear-dress, in white, and carried a basket with ears of corn to represent that she would take root and care for the family, Dave wore a Cherokee white ribbon shirt and carried a basket of meat indicating that he would nourish and support the family. Blue blankets were draped about the couples’ shoulders at the beginning of the ceremony by their mothers, covering them in symbolism, mostly about solitude, reflection and loyalty. They each have their own blanket to represent their separate beginnings. Behind Chief there was a basket holding the few remaining white-wrapped gifts of raw tobacco packets that were handed to each guest as we took our seats. These were given so that we might thank the Great Spirit for the couples’ love, by enriching the Earth at the end of the ceremony.

A wonderful event occurred during this ceremony. Two beautiful hawks (our family's totem consists of hawks and wolves. I've always considered myself a wolf, which is the minority, but my sister Rhonda considers herself a hawk) began circling the consecrated ground. This was considered a wonderful omen, a blessing from our ancestors and the Creator. I believe in omens like this. The circle became steadily smaller until the hawks were almost hovering above Rhonda and Dave. I silently said “Hi” to our Grandpa, Aunt Shirley and Cousin Sue, who had joined the Great Spirit years earlier. I believe it was their spirits which were directing the Hawks. I'm sure they wanted to celebrate my sister finding the happiness she has always deserved.

L to R, Frances Bailey, Anna Buwa, Rhonda Bailey, Dave Buwa (covered), Chief Edgar WhiteWolf

Above you are the stars, below you are the stones.

As time does pass, remember, like the stars should your love be constant.

Like the stones should your love be firm.

Be close yet not too close. Possess one another, yet be understanding

Have patience with each other, for storms will come, but they will go quickly.

Be free in giving of affection and warmth and be serious to one another.

Have no fear, and let not the words of the unenlightened give you unease.

For the Great Spirit is with you, now and forever. A May Naa (amen)

After the ceremony, but before the blessing, the mothers replaced the two blankets with a single white blanket symbolizing that the two were now one. The color was to symbolize the purity of their love, white is not required as much as the best fabric or hide available. It is more about placing the highest value on the partnership rather than the parts of the marriage. Rhonda and Dave, with tears of happiness in their eyes, then turned to us and gave us their wedding testament:

“God in Heaven above, protect the ones we love. We honor all that you have created as we pledge our lives and hearts together. We honor Mother Earth and ask that our union be warm and glowing with love in our hearts."

Many of the rest of us felt those tears too. For some of us, tears of relief that all obstacles had been conquered comingled with tears of joy that all promises and prayers had been answered. It seemed as if we, and not just they, had waited forever for this magical day. All was right with the world. Now they could rest in the comfort of each other and live in the security that is love.

Those few cynics amongst us believed in the power of faith and love once again, if only for a moment.

Adam Bailey dances Adam Bailey, our nephew, danced a traditional tribal dance after the ceremony. He made his costume right down to the deer-hide laces used as thread. He hunted and killed the deer that the hide came from. According to the Cherokee way, not one part of the animal was laid to waste. What wasn't eaten was used for clothing or art. If scraps remain, they are buried, untreated, to nourish the Earth. Native Americans never kill animals indiscriminately. It is against our faith to waste the Earth or its creatures. He gathered and cleaned all the feathers in his headdress and accessories. The beads were made from twigs and stones and various other *found* objects. Cherokees try to recycle everything as a way of life and out of respect to the Earth that the Creator provided us. After the dancing was completed, we guests blessed the ground with our tobacco and sent our prayers to the Great Spirit. We then went to the gift blanket to pick out our tokens from the happy couple. Cherokee people measure wealth, not by how much you retain, but by how much you give away. Cherokees give thanks for our blessings and events by giving, rather than receiving gifts. The ceremony ended when we rejoined and completed the circle during our exit. Rhonda and Dave Buwa, joined by their nephew Adam Bailey (center) Afterwards we gathered for a pot-luck dinner and hog roast reception. If anyone left hungry it was their own fault.

I must note that while this is the ceremony that our family will recognize, it was technically not a legal marriage, nor sanctioned by most religions. Rhonda and Dave were married at the courthouse for legal reference, and also had a nondenominational Christian ceremony shortly before the Cherokee Ceremony began.

I think that any couple who goes to the trouble of being married three times, will certainly last forever. May the Great Spirit bless them both and keep them safe from harm.

Strong Enough? (repost)

Most of the guys I talk with will never get past the talk stage with me. They all hope they will. Most of them believe they will be able to sweep past my defenses with their charm, arrogance or wit. I do so love the daring-do types. I’m not stupid though. I want to see inside their heads before my body gets too involved. My body isn’t where my brains are. I want to make sure that they are consistent in what they say. I want to make sure that I can agree with the basic beliefs and tenets they hold. I want to make sure they are *strong enough* to be my man. I'm just not that easy to love..... I wish I were less complicated....I’ve been blogging for years... I thought blasting things out to the world would somehow make me better for a time....not sure whether it did or didn't. I'd like to think that catharsis is good though. I’ve deleted more than I have left now. I'm too passionate. I know that. What I don't know is how to fix it. I love too much....need love too much. I'm demanding in a lot of ways....but I think I give it back. I want to. I try to. My history is so convoluted. I can't change that. Some things taint you in unexpected ways. You think you are ok and then you realize that nooooooo normal is not like you. You wake up and aren't sure where the dreams and nightmares actually end. You confuse pleasure with pain and you confuse lust with love. Sometimes you can't tell the truth from lies. You went to sleep thinking that all was right in the World and you wake up wondering if today is the day the World will end. You question God. You second guess *the plan*. You wonder what the point is in being good....but you can't bring yourself to risk letting go of your Grandpa’s wisdom....no one else ever loved you that much..... You always wonder....question....ask *What if*. Sleep eludes you. And sometimes you wake up screaming. I need to find someone who is similarly tainted I think....someone who is like me....or maybe what I need is to find someone who hasn't been damaged at all.... I hide myself and then I show all of myself at once...just before I put on a mask. Sometimes I'm really ugly. Not easy to love.....but I need it so much..... How am I ever going to find a man who can put up with me?

Not as good at this as I thought

I find it is a lot easier to fall in love than it is to fall out of it.

It is a lot easier to believe in fairytales than to face truth.

It is a lot easier to deal with dreams than to overcome the effects of a nightmare.

My steel spine feels as soft as jello.

My heart isn't hard, it is broken.

Words are all I can relate to, all I understand.

I'm manipulated, controlled and consoled by 26 letters in the alphabet.

There ought to be more.

I read this today.

Have you even been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up this whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life... You give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore.

Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like "maybe we should just be friends" or "how very perceptive" turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.

The Kindly Ones by Neil Gaiman

I also read a letter from him. I stayed strong. It wasn't easy. It should be getting easier.

There was the usual yadda yadda about my wonderfulness and how I deserve better and how he is so sorry he lost me.

Yeah, it was a choice and I can't be that wonderful, because I wasn't the choice he made.

Do you suppose I am his ego feed?

Maybe he is just trying to make his guilt go away by trying to make me feel better.

It doesn't work.

I only feel worse because I am too smart to believe his words over his actions.

It makes me feel worse because I want my heart to be right just once, instead of my head.

Maybe he just wants to make me think he didn't mislead me, or that if he did it was unintentional.

I still have all his letters though and if I understand anything in life it is the power of those 26 letters in the alphabet.

I hurt all over. I don't want to eat but I am going to binge anyway.

Today is for cookies and cake and not for makeup or hair brushing.

More than anything I wish the only man who ever really loved me could hold me once more.

I would crawl up on his lap and bury my face in his chest and cry until I had no tears left.

Somehow he'd make everything all right again.

I miss my Grandpa.

The Man I Measure Men By

Things my Grandpa Rogers taught me. Since I mention my Grandpa quite often, I thought I’d tell you a bit about him...He was very tall, about 6' or just over....He had that native look about him...very muscular and still lanky. Handsome as the devil in blue jeans. He was a wonderful person who didn’t always obey the law. He was flashy and drove a pink Cadillac convertible with white fuzzy dice on the rear view mirror and tan leather interior. He gave all our friends candy money when he gave it to us...sometimes $3-5 a piece...that was a lot of money in the early 70's especially when you were swarmed by 10 or 15 kids at a time. Once he kidnapped (actually kidnapped) my brother, 3 sisters and me because he felt we were eating too much chicken and not enough steak. He was an over the road truck driver for a freight company here until he died in 1973. Before that he hauled dynamite on the wrong side of the law. The things he taught me include: It doesn't matter who else is there, at the end of the day, you still have to sleep with yourself. Make sure you like your own company. Great rewards come only through great labors. One can never have too much candy, it makes you sweet. In a dark forest, when no one is around, a tree still makes a huge sound when it falls. Sin committed in secret is still sin. You have exactly 3 choices when faced with fear or danger. A. You can freeze and let it overtake you. B. You can run and let it chase you. Or C. You can fight and stand a chance at beating it. (My Grandpa was a golden gloves boxer for a while.) First: know your own Value. Last: Don’t accept less. Every person who has succeeded has failed miserably and been completely humiliated at some point in his/her life. His favorite rags to riches story was Mays Dept. Store...I can’t remember all the details but I do know that people fail before they get it right. Every action has an equal reaction. What goes around comes around. People will generally believe exactly what you tell them to believe about yourself. It's a good idea to be generally honest, but don’t broadcast the bad stuff, let them like you first. Always work as if you have to put your name on it. Your name is on it. If you are kind to others and true to yourself, people will remember you long after you are gone. Sometimes you have to break rules before people see why they should be broken. Respect the ground you walk on. It's better to choose than to be chosen. Do your own thinking. God gave you your own mind....use it or lose it. Failure to do your own thinking is like saying to God...Yeah thanks for the gift...but I am just gonna use Joe Blow’s thoughts....its too much work to do it myself. Its like spitting in God’s face. If we see that an action should be taken and we don't take it. We fail. There is no "other guy"...why wait for him? Grandpa was the wisest man I ever knew.

About the screen name St0rmWhispers

When I made my screen name, St0rmWhispers, I wanted to reflect my Native American heritage and honor my Grandpa Rogers, who was always brutally honest and unspeakably kind towards me. He loved me, and all of his children and grandchildren, as much for our faults as for our virtues. I always knew he thought I was "different" in a *weird* kind of way...and it was OK that he thought that because he loved me for it and not despite it. My oddities and quirks made me special to him.

I always had an affinity with storms. They energize me. They somehow help me clarify my thoughts. I tried to explain this to my Grandpa once when I was about 10 years old. He wondered why all my siblings were huddled together on the big sofa bed we slept in when we spent the night watching a movie and I was standing at the window.

"What are you doing standing all by yourself over here?" (I'm sure he was just shocked that I wasn't talking) , he asked.

"I'm watching and listening"

"Oh" he put his hands in his pockets and stared at me curiously.

"I like storms, storms like me too" I said.

"They call that an affinity" Grandpa was always trying new words out on me... the ones he didn't use with his truck driver buddies.

"What's affinity mean" Unusual...but a word I hadn't yet heard of.

"It means that you are like what you like" Grandpa replied.

"huh?"

"It means the thing you like sort of talks to you"

"No Grandpa... it listens and whispers"

"I think you like storms so much because you are a little stormy yourself" Grandpa sassed, then he tickled me and convinced me to join my much more normal siblings on the sofa.

After that there were a few more *inside* jokes between us about storms whispering to me and how I should make sure they were not making stuff up...but I think he liked what I told him that day...I look back and remember a slightly puzzled and yet still impressed expression that he wore and I am pleased we had those few moments.

Grandpa died about a year and a half later....but he lives in my heart forever.

Years later my mother told me how Grandpa worried for me, he thought that I was brilliant but so emotional that I would be hurt and he was very afraid that I'd not be strong enough to resist those who would take advantage of me. There were times in my life that did happen, people took advantage of me and broke my heart and my spirit but when I came close to losing everything, including my mind... the lessons my Cherokee Grandfather taught me throughout his short life have stayed in my heart and always come back to save me before it was too late.

Grandpa called me *stormy* because I was a bundle of energy trying to keep my emotions in check but the more deeply I felt something the smaller my voice became... Storms whisper is to show that there is more beneath what I say than meets the eye.

Fear Is Not An Option

From the movie *The Princess Diaries*

In a letter to his daughter, Mia, the deceased Eduard Christoff Philippe GErard Renaldi, Prince of Genovia wrote:

Courage is not the absence of fear but rather the judgment that something is
more important than fear. The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not
live at all.

I like movies like that, my inner child comes out (She is still 11 and waiting for Grandpa's next visit) and her heart and mind are open to all the good lessons that these modern day fables can teach. She isn't cynical and still believes in happily ever after. She hasn't lived that much of my life yet.

My Grandpa used to tell me that when I was really afraid that I only had three options. The first was to stand still and let it overtake me. Surrender. Let fear win and I would lose. The second was to run from it. Ignore it, but he said it wouldn't go away, it would always be right there behind me and I would always feel it breathing down my neck. The fear would hunt me down until it completely took over my life. The final choice was to fight it. Face it nose to nose and stand a chance at beating it. He told me that when I get knocked down I can lay there or I can get up and walk again.

Grandpa wasn't much for sissies or cowards. I'm not much for them either.

I understand fear though. I have two phobias I have yet to overcome from a childhood incident (which is why my Grandpa actually had this talk with me when I refused to get into a rowboat because I am afraid of drowning...I got in by the way, with a life jacket). I'm not as afraid as I once was of drowning and/or being lost, but I still have a way to go.

My fears are valid fears, based on this incident where I was lost and did nearly drown. I was only 4 years old and unable to save myself. My fears are NOT unfounded.

Right now I can swim in pools, not well, but as long as I know I can save myself I am ok. I will go up to my neck in larger bodies of water but my heart is pounding. I love boating now, and I don't have to have a life jacket on, just nearby.

As a young child, I was afraid to walk down the street. I go new places often now. Its never easy and seldom very far just yet, though I have driven across State. One day I will go farther. I fill my car with things that make people laugh, a whole bottle of brake fluid for instance, also transmission fluid, antifreeze, and oil, food, water, a telephone, map and a compass. Usually there are blankets and a change of clothing. If I could afford GPS I would have that too. This is even for the city where I live. Still I will drive if I have a valid reason to go somewhere, I just have to be able to survive being lost.

Trying to swim and trying not to get lost are both still capable of knocking me on my ass with a panic attack which often goes into an asthma attack. I deal with the attacks. I fight my fear.

I don't let fear beat me. One day I will knock fear completely on its Ass too....I will swim in deep water and I will travel at least across the country to see the Grand Canyon or something by myself.

I tell you all this because it is an explanation as to why I am not reading you right now and spending so much time writing (though the posts are yet to come). I am trying to get strong by purging all that which weakens me. I am fighting fear right now....and I am not winning. I probably won't. The fear *has come upon me*, to quote Job.

I've been crying a lot. My eyes are like dimpled tomatoes right now. All swollen and red. I can't sleep and eating is feast or famine. My thoughts are fast and furious and scrambling up my head.

I had to make a really tough choice. I am not going to go all melodramatic here and say that I will never get over it. I will. I won't say it was the hardest thing I've ever done. It wasn't. I won't swear that I can never love another. Love is what I do. I will say that I have never felt so sad though. I have this feeling of loss and helplessness. I feel pity and sympathy for someone that I cannot reach out to because a wall of fear separates us.

I'm not a crying person. You have never even seen me write that I have cried anything but tears of joy when Celia was safe from the hurricane. It surprises me to cry like this. It surprises me that I am willing to admit it. I just have no other reaction in me.

I prefer anger. Anger makes me stronger. If I am mad enough I will fight, I will fight dirty. I'm a scrapper from way back. I'm the kid that hollered at God himself when life wasn't the way it should be.

But I can't fight this. His fear is stronger than I am. I am beaten by it.

I'm crying because I am whipped by fear and it isn't even my own.