On the rez, back to Bismarck, and going home

Day 8—Tuesday—9/11--to the rez—Keith takes me on a tour (in the next few days I get many tours of the Fort Berthold reservation--I have learned so much my head is still spinning) We went to Crows Heart Butte where Lewis and Clark took sightings--I never knew that--I just knew the medicine wheel was on the hill. Later that night we went up on the hill behind Keith's house, the sundance hill, where Keith prayed for the child and talked to Grandfather and his ancestors as well, and prayed about my coming; he allowed me to participate and I represented all women in the prayer. I was honored to be a part of the prayer. It was a beautiful night on the hill, no moon, all stars. We saw a shooting star just after Keith was explaining to me that his people believe that stars are living beings too, and when there’s a falling star a new being comes for someone who needs help. It seemed to be a confirmation of his story. We also talk about flying saucers he’s seen, and when he was hit by lightning at the sundance and is now a water buster, (able to keep a storm away from a place, and to call rain.) After the lightning hit he was "electric" for along time--he kept touching things like the TV and blowing them out. It reminded me of an X-Files episode. He also shared with me about sundances, and he has been a sundancer, but I don't think I should say any more about that. We had no electricity that night, so we went out to eat, then came back and talked and played flutes by candlelight.

Day 9—Wednesday—cooler—temp drops--into the 40's! I'm not in St. Louis anymore! We run errands and Keith introduces me to many friends and relatives on the rez. We go back up on the hill behind his house to see the daylight view. The wind is strong, stronger than I've experiened at home because there's nothing to break it, and the grass sings. (Of course it's also pretty dusty. My poor car isn't cardinal red anymore.) We also go down to the river bottom (no one calls Lake Sakagawea a lake) where the land is coming back as the lake drops, although the tribes cannot have it back or use it. They are fighting the Army Corps of Engineers, one of my favorite organizations, on that one. We ate breakfast in town at the café; visited several tribal offices and the Fort Berthold Community College. I'm so glad it's on the rez. I'm a big believer in education, and this can give the kids a start in a lot of different areas. They need a music teacher. Keith wants to introduce me to the administration, but I told him I can't move--at least right now. I may write up a grant proposal for a one-semester course; it would be awesome if I could get those kids a keyboard lab. It’s a beautiful facility. Beautiful murals and paintings of various tribal leaders. Keith tells me who painted them; but things are all running together now. We "borrowed" electricity from Keith's sister next door. More ethnomusical discussion and flute playing. I'm getting lessons that are worth a fortune. Keith cooked me a steak and potato dinner and we watched a few movies. Cold night for sleeping once more without electricity--no furnace. The wind howls and moans and speaks and sings. I've never heard that before, and I laid awake and listened for a long time.

Day 10—Thursday: 41degrees! We went around town getting Keith's bills paid and getting Keith’s check from the tribe. Dealing with the tribe is like dealing with any government agency, unfortunately. Keith introduces me to everyone we meet, by the way—he eventually starts calling me an ethnomusicologist. Private joke--he has a flute-playing friend who has been doing that without credentials (neither do I--no classes, no degree.) We have electricity! I met his friends Bob and Linda Haugen from Minneapolis over the phone. They have all performed her composition “Old Turtle”, based on the children’s book, together. Linda wrote the piece. We discuss booking in St. Louis and how I can help. I have several ideas on this, including alums. I would also like to help Keith get his own story published by Scholastic—Turtle and Pretty Crane. He wrote this story for his children, and it teaches many things. The short version is on his newest CD. Now I know how much of it is Keith’s story . . . While waiting at the casino for Keith I checked email in the lobby and an older man started a conversation with me about my computer, etc. (Keith thought he was trying to snag, I think he was just friendly.) Turns out he’s a jazz pianist doing a concert in Valley City on Sunday. When Keith comes back I introduce them. They exchange CD’s, and the gentleman invited us to dinner. We had dinner at the casino and he joined us at Keith’s house after. He was a music teacher and jazz player in Minneapolis for years, but grew up in ND. He was also an alcoholic. Great visit, all three of us talking music. Later I get round dancing, 49 dancing lessons from Keith. It's the Indian version of couples dancing. I finally caught on, but I’ll have to practice on my own. I loved it—so much fun. Hard freeze that night.

Day 11—Friday. Cold morning—in the 30s. I had promised to get up and watch the sun rise with Keith, so I did. We watched it on the hill behind his house, and it was an amazing and spiritual experience. It was a cloudy morning, a front was coming in and there was fog rolling onto the river. The Four Bears bridge disappeared magically into the fog--a bridge to nowhere, a bridge to the clouds. The lake smoking. Keith prayed, I prayed. One of Keith's many relatives, I think an aunt, invited us to breakfast at the casino (she works in the kitchen). More people to meet. I can’t forget to mention the neighborhood kids who flock around Keith--they come over to ride the scooter, to hang out, to play with the kittens. (We have been catching and losing kittens all week). It’s so good to watch them with Keith, and I enjoy being with them myself. I find myself unable to ignore any teachable moments--they ask where I live, and I get out a map to show them that I live close to the same river that they do. I miss teaching.

Keith’s brother James invites us to see the buffalo out by where he lives on Friday. This takes us out to the badlands, the Killdeer mountains, Little Missouri state park. Beautiful country. We see the buffalo, have lunch with James and his little granddaughter. All this makes it too late to go to Bismarck, so I call Jelena, and stay in New Town another night. We get back to Keith's place, and sit and talk for a while, then go to the casino just to hang out. People I have met say “hi” and invite me to sit with them. They are very friendly. Everyone asks me if I like it and tells me I should come and live here. I might, too, if I didn’t have Dad and my sister and my dalmations waiting for me at home. I have always wanted to live in the west . . . I finally decided to take the big plunge at the casino and take a $20 bill and played the slots. I even got a players card. They gave me $5 for the sign up, which I gave Keith in case he was luckier than me. He wasn't. He played blackjack, but didn’t last too long. I was playing quarter slots, and I actually got $2 ahead, and cashed out at that point! I was afraid if I started losing I wouldn’t want to stop if I lost the $20. It was fun.

Day 12—Saturday—another sunrise; clear, bright and beautiful. These pictures from the hill are quite different--pictures of the sun creeping across the land, watching the shadows, and even silly ones of the two of us. Keith fixed me coffee and a steak and potatoes breakfast that lasts me the entire day! I called Dad to tell him I went Indian. Boy do I miss him—and he was so happy to hear from me. I know he wants me to come home. I start getting ready to leave, Keith reads in the newspaper that a friend passed just a few days ago—only age 42. It turns out to be a massive coronary. Keith took a Pendleton blanket to honor him, and asked if I would come along to the parents house. I also wanted to bring something to honor Keith’s friend even though I didn’t know him, so we went by the flower shop in town where Keith knows the owner, and I got a peace lily. It was sad to go to the house, the young man’s father was so broken up. Keith cried. I had tears for the father. I will have them both in my prayers. Then we go out to Wolf Trading Post so I can get my sweetgrass (I already got my blanket). When we get home, I ask Keith the last questions I need to ask that I can think of about the music, the culture. The kids come by for scooter rides, which makes saying goodbye easier for me. We had good days, and it was a good road. I pray, Father/Grandfather, that the road will remain good and continue.

I get back to Rick and Jelena’s in the evening in time to have a little tomato soup with them and watch Batman. Won’t leave Bismarck now until at least Monday. I had such a nice visit with them, too.


Day 13==Sunday

I slept late today—no church. Went to lunch with Amber and Jelena at Rachel and Troy’s house, and met their daughter Kara. She really is a neat little girl. Fun to play with a toddler again. After lunch we were going to attend the Folkfest downtown, but it was over! How dare they not keep it open for us. Came home, a little rest, starting to get warm. The pain in my back and leg got worse as the day went on. In the evening we went to the Bismarck State College campus which overlooks the Missouri River, and played flutes and watched the sunset. A little itchy in the grass, but a beautiful view and a beautiful sunset. After a little meal together, It was bedtime for everybody, me especially. The leg pain is so intense I question how far I will be able to drive tomorrow; but a night’s rest could help.

I hate to leave and go back to the world of stress and uncertainty I inhabit there. That could be why my back pain is returning. I didn’t want to leave the reservation, and I don’t want to leave here. But I want to see Dad, and there are things I have to do at home. As long as Dad is in St. Louis, I won’t make a move anywhere . . .

Today was another good journey. Last year’s experiences were nothing compared to this year’s . . . Guide me on my journey home, Father, show me the road . . . watch over and protect those I am leaving behind.


Monday--

Waiting for prescriptions was making me late anyway, so I went to On-A-Slant-Village. I'm glad I went, but I think Knife River is a better site. The tour guide was a Lakota whose name was Dakota, and I'm pretty sure he was at the signature event in St. Louis. We talked about Cahokia, and an artifact there that makes him pretty sure that the Mandan are descended from that culture. Now I have to go see the artifact. We also talked about the fact that three members of the Lewis and Clark expedition, including Pierre Cruzatte, had Indian mothers. They would have known Indian songs, and probably would have sung them. Ah ha! This adds to the research . . . you never know when or where you will learn something.

Stayed in Fargo--too much pain to go farther even after the meds.

Tuesday--I feel much better. I am headed for Des Moines, and will stop as necessary, no matter how long it takes. I will go around Minneapolis. The Barfields tell me this takes four hours off of my total trip, so I have to try it. I'm off the L&C trail now, and forging my own, to places I've never been. Minnesota? Iowa? New road to travel. Father keep me safe.

United Tribes Powwow & visiting in Bismarck

Day 3—Fargo to Bismarck—Sept. 5


Mainstay Suites was excellent. I wish I had the room for more than one night—that’s how good it was. I had a handicapped room, which was actually okay—on the first floor, by the front desk, but still very quiet. When I arrived in Fargo after a LONG trip through South Dakota, I checked in, got a Subway sandwich across the street, brought it back to my suite with a soda for a nice little dinner, and watched the Cardinal disaster on my computer for awhile. I was so tired, though, when it was obvious we weren’t going to come from behind I went to bed—no reading, no computing, no nothing. Slept like a log until about 6:30am when I guess I thought Dottie wanted to go out—force of habit. Got back to sleep, then overslept, but they graciously gave me an extra hour.

I took the time to exercise, but not to pray—thought I’d do it in the car. I got all frazzled and anxious. I decided to see if I could get someone to help me with the FM antenna connection on the satellite radio so I could use it. I stopped at a store the hotel recommended. The man was extremely helpful—in fact, he showed me exactly what to do and wouldn’t take a dime. But I couldn’t find the radio, couldn’t find the Sure Connect antenna—he kept going back into the store while I rummaged through the car for everything—I felt like an idiot.

Finally I hit the road, happily listening to the Cardinal game—and a great game it was. I stopped at a rest stop to eat the other half of my Subway sandwich from last night for lunch while I listened to the game. I went to the bathroom and when I came back, the car would start, but it wouldn’t go into gear, the brakes didn’t work, the steering didn’t work, lots of lights I didn’t know about yet came on. Great. I turned the car off, started it again. Same thing. Battery’s okay—I still have the game, which isn’t going to be much help.

Then I remember. I never prayed. Spiritual warfare has been chasing me, and I’ve been learning so many new things from lessons I’ve been listening to in the car. I never reconnected with God today, never consecrated myself to Him, or my vehicle for that matter. I stopped, prayed, asked forgiveness, told Him how thankful I was that He had sent me on this trip, how grateful I am for His protection. (I really am anxious to see what He has to accomplish—I don’t have a huge agenda). I started the car—everything was fine. I immediately turned off the game, connected my ipod, and prayed the prayer I pray every morning along with the recording, then talked to the Lord on my own for awhile. Only then did I turn the game back on. They were taking Maroth out of the game—I didn’t miss much. They did fine from then on, too, winning 16-3. We should be one game out of 1st place now!

I finally arrived in Bismarck. It’s great to see Jelena, Rick and Amber again, and to know that they are so glad to have me here. They treat me like family. I got a tour of the town—it has grown, I can tell, since we were here three years ago. They have a nice duplex they’re renting.

I am here at last, in North Dakota—on purpose! Tomorrow we go to the United Tribes Powwow, where we should meet up with Keith. It will be a good reunion. Thank you, Creator, for bringing me here!


Day 4—Friday September 7--Bismarck and the United Tribes Powwow

We start the day late—Jelena let me sleep late, until 10, which it seemed that I needed. Every year during powwow time, there are lots of rummage/garage sales, because I think around 20,000 people come into town (check the figure—ed.) Jelena, who is a new grandma, had a great time finding things for Cara—so many darling little outfits and toys. I found a great leather saddlebag purse for $1, and rag rug for Jelena that she likes. I’m eating way more food than I should. Jelena is an artist, a quilter, a jewelry maker, and a fabulous cook. Chokecherries seem to be native to the area, and it must be harvest time. We have chokecherry syrup, chokecherry jelly—and it’s delicious! We have homemade chocolate syrup and a bad habit of eating it right out of the container!

After the rummage sales, Jelena and I went out to the powwow and searched for Keith without success, then came home to get Amber and Rick. We finally heard from Keith, and caught up with him in the evening at the powwow. It was a delight to see him again. All of us were so anxious to visit with him. Amber needs time with him badly—she’s glad to move back to North Dakota, but adjusting to another new school has been hard, and she dearly loves Keith. I always enjoy my time with him immensely. I have so many things I want to talk to him about, to ask him. He is always so patient to answer my questions about Indian culture, music, flute, even his own life. If he doesn’t want to answer a personal question, he very graciously ignores me. He danced tonight, first time I have seen him in that regalia, with a coup stick and everything. He’s not dancing for points; just dancing.

Rick & Jelena consider me family, and I feel so at home. My “adopted” granddaughter Amber is a delight. I am very relaxed and happy. I am open to why I’m here . . . a relaxing visit and research to do are the official reasons. But there is always something more . . .


Day 5—September 8—Saturday

Visiting with Keith and the powwow

We stayed home—it had rained all night and morning, and we knew things would be soggy and probably cancelled at the powwow. Keith came over and visited most of the day. We played flutes—I got a lesson on the flute he made me. I also got a lesson on the Mandan Heartbreak song. He worked with Jelena for a long time also. We talked about lots of things, but after a while I backed off on my music and questions so he could visit the Barfield’s. It was still a wonderful visit and I picked up several more things about flute-playing. Every time I am with Keith I also learn more and more about his culture. My thinking about American history, especially the history of the West, has changed so much, it still confuses me sometimes.

In the evening we all went back to the powwow and walked around the grounds for a while. I was delighted to be able to buy a little turtle shell jewelry holder for Amber that she really liked. It’s fun to have a young lady to spend a little money on!

The dancing had been moved to the gym, but it was hot, the sound system was too loud, and we couldn’t see very well, so we left after a little while. Rick’s brother Rob and his wife and daughters were visiting and spent the night. I was pretty exhausted by the time I went to bed. Another splendid day.


Day 6—September 9—Sunday

Got up a little earlier and went to Mass on the powwow grounds. Nice service, not very well attended. No music--the musicians weren't there. I couldn't take communion, but I did receive a blessing from the priest. The Powwow was colorful and exciting. The drum beat sticks with you. The way they honor the veterans is so much better than anything we do in our culture. It's also fun to walk around all the booths and see everything. Somewhere along the weekend I had my first Indian taco--a taco on fry bread. It was huge. I made my plans to go to New Town to visit Keith and work on the music research. I was honored to gift Keith with a carved bone key chain that was actually made by someone who had been a buddy of his growing up. He knows everyone. I came home that night and pretty much crashed.

September 10--Monday

A day to relax, do some laundry and grocery shopping, visit with Rick, then Jelena and Amber. Nice, quiet day. Gorgeous weather. Listened to a little of the tragic Cub/Cardinal game. Oh well.

September 11--Patriot Day--Tuesday

I'm blogging at the Burger King--getting ready to leave Bismark and head out to New Town. Next news from the Fort Berthold Reservation!

The News from Fargo

Day 1, Sept. 4. Hot and humid day. Very late start—3:03 pm. Overslept, must have been tired from Cardinals’ Care volunteering yesterday. Only bad traffic the entire trip @St. Peters. Fortunately, I hit all the road construction on I-29 at night. Arrived in Omaha @10:30pm. I heard the second half of the game on two different stations coming in—I also picked up the Royals’ game of course, the Twins and the Rockies in Denver—low cloud ceiling. Lots of fog in northern Mo & Iowa.

I still get excited when I see a Lewis & Clark trail sign. All looks different in the dark this trip, though. 204 years ago, the boys were a bit north of here on this date, near South Dakota. I’ll pass them up tomorrow on my way to Fargo.

This is a big adventure for me. I’ve traveled short distances alone by car before—never farther than K.C. I’ve flown alone a lot. But I’ve always met someone. This is my biggest trip alone. I love traveling; I should enjoy this.

The Best Western Seville Plaza is remodeled & looks nice in the dark, anyway. Decent room, but someone has been smoking in a non-smoking room, and I hate that.

? Didn’t get here in time to watch the game. Must do better tomorrow night! Set my alarm for 9am—there is continental breakfast, and I might as well eat free.


Day 2—Omaha to Fargo.
Lewis & Clark Landing in Omaha. Who knew? They landed everywhere on this river, why not here? I took a picture of the sign. Clark & Whitehouse left White Catfish camp & came over here. A little more history on the sign. Nice riverfront area—a park that’s well kept up with a walk commemorating local unions, a really cool elevated walk area, nice place for walking/jogging/bicycling. Goes along much of their downtown riverfront. No Arch—oh well. Omaha considers themselves something of a gateway to the west also—outfitted a lot of settlers headed west.

Another great coincidence—Bob Gibson had a restaurant right across from my hotel, but it’s closed—it appears to have burned down. Locals don’t know much about him, it seems. Keeps a low profile.

On to Fargo—12:23pm.

Lunch at Sergeant Bluff, town where, guess what—Sergeant Flloyd’s burial bluff is located. Turkey sandwich at Subway. Gas is $2.97/gallon. Ouch.

Proceed on!