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http://youtube.ng/watch?v=opcv8FZ5Tp0
The song reminds me of my brother, Mike. Everyone enjoyed the panel I took depicting his life.
We packed up my crafts and artwork from off the patio of the Student Union Building and left around eight o’clock last night. There were only a few lingering about the area. Slowly each little group left until finally we were the only ones to remain. The wait for my son to pick up his r.v. was what held us there. Nevertheless, a quiet settled down so that we could hear the birds singing, enjoy the soft breeze through the trees around the patio and just generally have time to reflect and visit.
Everyone else retired to the overly large Casino for the various dances: gourd dance, wolf dance, the meal at five and then the pow-wow.
While we were waiting there were numbers of cars to come on the campus, drive slowly around the oval and out again. This was probably a rare treat for those who had never been on campus so I was glad my son didn’t come right away. He was working and we were comfortably enjoying watching the cars drive through. Finally, after a period of time a man drove up and started talking about how haunted the place was. He said he would never stay over night there.
My thought was the guard was worried we were going to stay in the camper over night and this was just their way to use psychology on us so that we would leave.
“Gramma! Is that the truth about ghosts being her?” My grandson was interested.
“You know ghosts are what our people call evil spirits. The thought is that good spirits do not torment, terrorize or worry folks.” This was my opportunity to visit with him about that touchy subject. “There is an endeavor of learning in the Anglo culture called psychology and I’m sure you know about that. They study mental health and often determine a person’s is well according to whether they have hallucination and such.”
He asked no more questions.
“You see how beautiful and peaceful it is here? Really it is common sense to believe that alone would rule out any “haunting” as this man seemed to believe.”
So dear readers, sorry to have nothing more to tell you about the alumni meeting, the dances, or the pow-wow. Someone will fill me in later, I’m sure and I’ll send that along.
Our purpose was fulfilled. The grandchildren loved selling the little Chilocco memorabilia to visitors. We kept the price to nothing so all I did was pay for the material, but the lesson in sales, record keeping, paying taxes was well worth my endeavor.
My high point was when a girl came up and told me she was related to my niece from her father’s side.
We lost that little girl through divorce when she went with her father.
Years later she came back. Her mother called me. As I walked into the room she was sitting at the far side of the room, head down, hands clasped on her lap. She was in a posture of complete dejection.
“Take this necklace, Sweetie, it belonged to my and your grandmother,” I kneeled down in front of her to place it in her hands. “You left us when you were just little, but you are home now and we’re so happy.” Two tears slipped down her cheeks.
Take this and get her hair done and buy her some tight jeans and a girly shirt,” I said as I handed her mother a hundred dollar bill.
The next time I saw the girl she looked so cute. She had a stylish hair do, new jeans, and a feminine blouse. She was smiling and sure of herself.
Yesterday her cousin told me she is a wonderful mother, has a big garden,
cans her own food and she sews for her children.
All the tiredness from the work, the planning, struggling to get to Chilocco fell away from me at that moment. Quickly I stacked some of the crafts and handed them to the girl as she promised to take those things to my little niece. This is a happy ending, too.
The song reminds me of my brother, Mike. Everyone enjoyed the panel I took depicting his life.
We packed up my crafts and artwork from off the patio of the Student Union Building and left around eight o’clock last night. There were only a few lingering about the area. Slowly each little group left until finally we were the only ones to remain. The wait for my son to pick up his r.v. was what held us there. Nevertheless, a quiet settled down so that we could hear the birds singing, enjoy the soft breeze through the trees around the patio and just generally have time to reflect and visit.
Everyone else retired to the overly large Casino for the various dances: gourd dance, wolf dance, the meal at five and then the pow-wow.
While we were waiting there were numbers of cars to come on the campus, drive slowly around the oval and out again. This was probably a rare treat for those who had never been on campus so I was glad my son didn’t come right away. He was working and we were comfortably enjoying watching the cars drive through. Finally, after a period of time a man drove up and started talking about how haunted the place was. He said he would never stay over night there.
My thought was the guard was worried we were going to stay in the camper over night and this was just their way to use psychology on us so that we would leave.
“Gramma! Is that the truth about ghosts being her?” My grandson was interested.
“You know ghosts are what our people call evil spirits. The thought is that good spirits do not torment, terrorize or worry folks.” This was my opportunity to visit with him about that touchy subject. “There is an endeavor of learning in the Anglo culture called psychology and I’m sure you know about that. They study mental health and often determine a person’s is well according to whether they have hallucination and such.”
He asked no more questions.
“You see how beautiful and peaceful it is here? Really it is common sense to believe that alone would rule out any “haunting” as this man seemed to believe.”
So dear readers, sorry to have nothing more to tell you about the alumni meeting, the dances, or the pow-wow. Someone will fill me in later, I’m sure and I’ll send that along.
Our purpose was fulfilled. The grandchildren loved selling the little Chilocco memorabilia to visitors. We kept the price to nothing so all I did was pay for the material, but the lesson in sales, record keeping, paying taxes was well worth my endeavor.
My high point was when a girl came up and told me she was related to my niece from her father’s side.
We lost that little girl through divorce when she went with her father.
Years later she came back. Her mother called me. As I walked into the room she was sitting at the far side of the room, head down, hands clasped on her lap. She was in a posture of complete dejection.
“Take this necklace, Sweetie, it belonged to my and your grandmother,” I kneeled down in front of her to place it in her hands. “You left us when you were just little, but you are home now and we’re so happy.” Two tears slipped down her cheeks.
Take this and get her hair done and buy her some tight jeans and a girly shirt,” I said as I handed her mother a hundred dollar bill.
The next time I saw the girl she looked so cute. She had a stylish hair do, new jeans, and a feminine blouse. She was smiling and sure of herself.
Yesterday her cousin told me she is a wonderful mother, has a big garden,
cans her own food and she sews for her children.
All the tiredness from the work, the planning, struggling to get to Chilocco fell away from me at that moment. Quickly I stacked some of the crafts and handed them to the girl as she promised to take those things to my little niece. This is a happy ending, too.