A good day to be Cherokee Today was a good day. The sun rose clear and bright.......and at about 70 degrees, which is a far cry from only two weeks ago. This weekend is the annual gathering, The Cherokee National Holiday, and as I drove toward the capitol, I saw license plates from all over; Kaw Nation, United Keetoowah Band of Cherokee, Ponca Nation, Creek Nation, Sac and Fox Nation, North Carolina, Alabama, etc., etc. Everyone was coming to help celebrate. I drove past the Sequoyah Indian High School which now has a new gymnasium thanks to collective efforts of the People of the Cherokee Nation. My first stop was at One Feather's......he is an Eastern Cherokee who 'emigrated' to the West several years back. "Osiyo!" greeting me as I walked thru the door......he has a wide smile that is infectious to all he meets......."How's the Old Outlaw?" he asks, grinning wide like a Sequechee......(possum). He asks this because he knows some of my ancestry, and I am not too sure his own doesn't intertwine in there somewhere. He's busy, the gathering has brought all kinds in to his store, "wannabes" looking for that 'authentic' medicine pouch, old friends, a man sits outside his door with his own wares, One Feather freely allowing this one to set up shop literally on his doorstep. I find two items, one I was looking for, and one which was a surprise. I came to buy a copy of a lithograph that was done of my ancestors' first home in Indian Territory, the home still stands, since 1834, just outside Tahlequah. The other, a first edition of Robert Armstrong's Survey Book of Indian Lands, performed subsequent to the Treaty of 1817 with the Cherokee, and the Treaty of 1819 with the Cherokee........and there on page 55, at #927, is the plat map for lands granted from the Treaty of 27 February 1819, to "The Heirs of Toolenoostah"..... 640 acres of land on the south side of the Tuskegee River, beginning at a bunch of water burches in the upper end of an island just below the mouth of a branch thence down the river as it meanders 335 poles to a stake on the bank of said river opposite to the mouth of Deep Creek, thence south 290 poles to a stake in the mountain thence east 320 poles to a stake, thence north 290 poles to the begiining including the improvement. Surveyed 20th September 1820 ~Robert Armstrong, Surveyor "D'ja find anything?" Two Feathers asks. "Uh-uh, sure did," I replied. He looks at the documents I have. "Here's the family in the East, and here's the family in the West. Here they are in 1820, and here they are in 1834". "Osdadu!" he exclaims. I pay him his price for the book without bartering........"Expensive," I say. "Well, I wanted to keep that one for myself," he replies. "I'll give you your price, seeing as it's the Holiday," I said. "I'll sell it to you, seeing as it was meant for you to find it," he retorts. We both grin wide smiles. "I'hedolv'i," he says, you come back. "I will, " I promise and he goes back to his customers. The man outside the door looks up from his ware. I see they are trinkets. "Twinkie" stuff. I have no need for them. I start to stop anyways, but a lady bends down and oohs and aahs and I happily move along. My next stop is at the Cherokee Nation complex. I walk thru and reexamine the familiar icons of our history, and then through the arts and crafts tents outside, they are doing a brisk business. I walk thru the Council chambers, the Vice-Chief is lecturing, standing room only. I then drive out to the area of Park Hill, the historical capitol of our Nation. I make a mental note of the Presbyterian church, established in 1835, only a mere two miles as the crow flies from where my family first settled. They had come West with "a bunch of church folks" as one historical document had stated, could there be a correlation? hmmmm. The grounds are so full, they are parking cars in the hay fields beyond the grounds. Wow. I walk thru the old stands of oak and hickory forest, tripping on horseapples. I think others call them hedgeapples? Who has walked thru this forest before me, I wonder as I glide thru the woods over moss covered flint rocks. There must be ten thousand people here, I think to myself. Tommy Wildcat is playing his flute, and a crowd has gathered. I see old friends at a booth, promoting the Saline District Courthouse Preservation Society. Jane calls out to me in Cherokee, "Come here, come here!" I sit and we visit about their cause, related my own discovery of this place years ago, and that I am in agreement that such a place needs to be preserved. David listens with interest as I describe how on the day of my visit there, that they were in the early stages of trying to save the place, and a state inspector was there, measuring the amount of lead that remained in the old paint covering the building. David laughs, and shows me an aged document, from the 1850's, describing the materials used in the building, and how they had used "the very best lead paint which could be found to ward off insects and provide a finish that would preserve the building for the ages"..........little did they know then that lead was dangerous, but, looks like they were right, as the building is still standing. We talk of the old gravestones in front of the old courthouse, of their relatives interred there, and their preservation efforts. Jane looks up, and we all turn to greet former Chief Wilma Mankiller. She looks well, and smiles her hello, and tells us it has been a busy day and 'have we seen her daughters?" This is how it is at these gatherings. Chief Mankiller is one day speaking at Harvard University, and the next looking for her kids at this gathering. I add my name to David and Jane's cause, and then move on. I continue thru the grounds greeting old friends, and also seeing familiar faces who I cannot name, but they name me........"Good to see you." Inside the National Archives, Dorothy Sullivan sits with her newest art pieces. Wow. I want to speak with her, but she is surrounded by well-wishers and customers. Tear dresses and Ribbon shirts abound on nearly everyone inside, the place is full. I am looking for an old friend, the curator of the National Archives and the tribal genealogist. "He's working the grounds," they say. Back thru the throng, and I find a display for the Cherokee Historical Society, of which this same friend is an officer. And there, used as an example on his kiosk, is the miller application for one Akey Long, relative of Ned Christie, Gene's ancestral uncle. Ned Christie, quite the historical figure. But, it was Akey's application, #5128, that caught my eye. Her ancestor was Ganaheeda, so was mine. Her ancestor was Tucker, so was mine. Her ancestor was See-gil-ih, so was mine. Could she be one of my 'missing links'? I write the info down, more determined to find Gene than before. Walking with a little more purpose, I am cruising thru the crowd........"Hey, Peavine!" an Elder calls out to me. I turn and there's Mr. Twist. He's sitting behind the booth of one of his old Indian boarding school classmates, having found her selling her river-cane twilled baskets there. "Tohitsu?" I ask. "Fine, fine," he says, "Hey, where've you been? I haven't seen you at the clinic in quite a while?" Mr. Twist is not only a friend, but one who I have cared for at the Creek Nation medical facilities for many years. "I've moved into a different position", I reply. "Well, you are missed," he says. "You look good," I say, "Are you well?" "I quit smoking, look how fat I've gotten!" He laughs. I congratulate him on the effort. He does look good. His color is better, and he's not wheezing. "It agrees with you," I say. I enjoy the visit with Mr. Twist, and all too soon, move on, "You come back to the Creek Nation?" he says, almost a command. I find Gene. He's directing traffic into the grounds. He takes a moment to listen to my desire to visit with him about the common ancestor..........he's one of the best at what he does, and if it can be documented, he's the guy. Wow. A man and woman walk by me in 18th century Cherokee dress, like they stepped out of 1780 into the 21st century. The real stuff, not a bunch of faux feathers in a mock plains Indian get-up. Nope. They're Cherokee. I smile to the woman, "Hey, Wauhilau!" the man exclaims. "Eh?".......well, dang, it's one of my high school classmates........."Hey!" I say, throwing my head up and pursing my lips his way, "Good to see you!" The powwow begins at dark........and it's threatening rain. "Indigenous" is playing at Roxie's on the river tonite, man I wanted to go! I missed the State of the Nation address this morning on the old Capitol grounds by the Chief. I didn't get to watch the stickball games. I did stop by the softball tournament to watch those gorgeous Choctaw girls from Mississippi beat one of the local teams, and also say hello to a number of old ballplayers I used to run with......'You wanna play tonite, Wauhilau?".....Nope, the old arm ain't what it used to be, rotator cuff injury, you know......"Well, you could play catcher?" I wave them off, thanks, but no thanks. Keno stands with is bat, shakes my hand, and we trade a knowing look, oooh, how we used to run together, those Choctaw girls would've been in danger years ago. I count my coup, (sorry, couldn't resist), and head home, watching the storm clouds gather on the horizon. When I get home, the wife hands me the mail. Judy in California has sent me a copy of the 1828 emigrants from the Cherokee Nation to Indian Territory. And there they are, #81 Tar.car.no.he.ly, #82 Turtle, #83 Mountain, and #85 John Love, from the National Archives in Washington DC. Wow! The five year old bursts thru the door, eager to hear about the powwow that I didn't attend......."Saw your cousin," I said. "You did!? Was he dancing?" "No," I laugh, "It's not dark yet, but he said to tell you hello!" He, the wife and I meet his grandfather outside, pull up the lawn chairs, and visit. The five year old draped across my lap. "LOOK!" he says. A three tailed meteor zooms across the sky, low, in brilliant orange, yellow, red and then blue.......and then disappears. Wow!! It was a good day to be a Cherokee. |
 |  |  |
Cherokee National Holiday
"A good day to be Cherokee" © Wauhilau as posted in
alt.discuss.clubs.public.culture.native-american.benable
on Sat, Sep 2, 2006, 8:53pm (EDT-3)
bead bar courtesy of Greasy Grass