My clan grandmother lived behind our house until she passed away. She helped to raise my mother as a child, and in return my mother promised to take care of Grandma in her later years. So, when my mother married, my dad agreed to build her a little place she could call home.
Her visits were usually few. She either came to use the phone, or ask my mother to take her to town. Occasionally, she would come to watch television for a few minutes, then leave without a word.
Grandma Ida spoke very little English. "Lie die, dog," was about the only phrase she knew. It always made us chuckle.
One summer afternoon, my mother had just taken the clothes off the line and brought them inside to fold. She, my two younger nieces, and myself were in the living room helping her, while watching television. We could hear the squeak of the back screen door, followed by slow footsteps.
"Dud-zoh" Mom called to her. "Come on in." One by one, the three of us joined suit.
"Hi, Grandma! We're in here. C'mon in, Grandma."
Eyes in the Back of Her Head
My adoptive mother was born in the early 1900s. The time and the fact she had many siblings made for some pretty interesting stories. This is one of many.
One afternoon, Mom and I were busy doing something, I don't exactly remember. The little ones were playing, Vi was sitting cross-legged on the chair. You know where the front windows are? That's where she sat with her back to the window. She didn't walk until she was about 5.
"Why's that?" I asked.
Oh, I don't know. Maybe she just liked for us to carry her around. Anyway, all of a sudden, she blurted out, "Oh, Dad fell off the bike." Mom and I just looked at her. Mom said, "What are you talking about?" "Oh, he came around Spring's corner too fast and fell off. He's okay. He didn't get hurt."
Dad finally came home. He started to tell us how he took the corner too fast, went off the road, and fell off the bike. We looked at each other.
She's always been that way. Vi, I mean. Odd.
Follow the Bouncing Ball
One summer night, a group of us teenaged girls were walking past the pond near the Hooty Sapperticker. (You know, the culvert near ArrowHawk Smoke Shop.) We were fooling around, the usual talking and laughing, when someone noticed a light beyond the pond. It looked as though someone was walking towards us from across the field.
Our first thought was one of the guys had been hunting and was swinging a lantern. A couple of the girls called out, but no one answered. We stood, whispering among ourselves, and watched. Suddenly, another light appeared. At first, they seemed to travel parallel to each other, then they began to cross paths. No one ever came.
Our first thought was one of the guys had been hunting and was swinging a lantern. A couple of the girls called out, but no one answered. We stood, whispering among ourselves, and watched. Suddenly, another light appeared. At first, they seemed to travel parallel to each other, then they began to cross paths. No one ever came.
Another time, my folks were visiting friends on the Cattaragus reserve during the summer. One night, a friend and I were sitting on the top of her grandfather's truck next to the path leading to the outhouse. As we were talking, a small light came from that direction. It was shining on the ground as though someone was pointing a flashlight straight down. We thought it odd because we didn't see anyone come from the house and pass us. She called, thinking it might be her grandfather. I called out to my dad. No one answered.
We watched as the light began to grow and bounce. First, it bounced to one side of the path. It even went up into the tree above. We sat speechless as we watched it grow and head towards us. When it reached the truck, it bounced up towards our feet and legs. Then, it simply vanished. We ran in to tell what we had seen.
Fear was never a concern, in either case. Instead, we simply accepted these to be jisge:h, or ghosts. These were the only two times I personally experienced anything like this.
Like this, that is.
Valley of the Dolls
Back in the 60s, there was this old woman who had an amazing collection of dolls. On any given day (other than the winter or inclement weather), they would be lined up on the knoll between the road and her house.
Whether they were pulling a wagon, riding a bike, or just strolling, their friendly waves demanded our attention. None ever wore a same outfit twice in a row. Before the sun went down, they were back inside: safe and sound.
Once inside, she put each of them in their respective places. Rumor had it (her grand-daughter even told me), the dolls got up and played, once the woman went to bed. (Wonder if that's where Chuckie got his start?)
In fact, her dolls got so much attention, someone came out to interview her for a feature article. As I recall, I think it was for The Reader's Digest, or something. Anyhow, because the movie "The Valley of the Dolls" had just come out, it became commonly known as that.
The woman and her dolls are long gone, but "The Valley of the Dolls" remains a reservation classic.
Whether they were pulling a wagon, riding a bike, or just strolling, their friendly waves demanded our attention. None ever wore a same outfit twice in a row. Before the sun went down, they were back inside: safe and sound.
Once inside, she put each of them in their respective places. Rumor had it (her grand-daughter even told me), the dolls got up and played, once the woman went to bed. (Wonder if that's where Chuckie got his start?)
In fact, her dolls got so much attention, someone came out to interview her for a feature article. As I recall, I think it was for The Reader's Digest, or something. Anyhow, because the movie "The Valley of the Dolls" had just come out, it became commonly known as that.
The woman and her dolls are long gone, but "The Valley of the Dolls" remains a reservation classic.
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