29 Tdun-khash-ee-lahs – The Spirit Helpers
30 Tda-koo-skhahn-skhan – soul
31 Cha-noom-pah – pipe or sacred breath
As Zitka Mine prophesied, Peter remained in coma for a full four seasons. On the anniversary of his accident, his eyes fluttered open and he murmured one word:
“Mary.”
Lena lay on the bed she shared with her grandmother, and remembered. She remembered that Zitka Mine prophesied that her father would teach. Her brow wrinkled as she considered this extraordinary statement. She continued to remember: her father struggling to learn to walk again, talk again. Struggling to eat on his own, to read, but never struggling to love again.
He was as entwined with the heart of his wife as before the accident. Daily Lena watched the nimbus grow brighter and stronger. Stronger too were the heart beats of her parents, beating in unison. Day by day she watched him struggle, and she was in awe of her father’s ability to endure.
She watched him patiently learn to talk again, to communicate, to voice his feelings and dreams. She witnessed his pain as therapists worked with his weakened limbs, teaching him to walk again, to perform
tasks as simple as holding a spoon. She observed his courage as
strangers bathed him, emptied his bed pan. His love for his wife, daughter and mother, and for Dean and Nellie when they came to Columbus to see him, was evident in the glow of his eyes and his patience in re-learning everything he had done before without thinking, was a lesson the young Lena would never forget.
His soul was encased in a body that would not respond, yet his soul was free, and his acceptance of his condition, and faith that he would be
restored to his former self, never flagged.
His concern was for his family and not himself, so he worked even harder to regain his strength, to walk, to talk, to be the husband and father he had been before the accident. Finally, his gratitude for Dean and Nellie Countryman, Dean’s brother Gary, and the friends who came together to help his small family, filled his heart in every waking moment.
Lena stood back mentally and contemplated her father, and she was filled with wonder.
Chapter Seven
Lakota Instructions for Living
Friend do it this way - that is, whatever you do in life,
do the very best you can with both your heart and mind.
And if you do it that way, the Power of The Universe will come to your assistance,
if your heart and mind are in Unity.
When one sits in the Hoop Of The People, one must be responsible, because
all of Creation is related,
and the hurt of one is the hurt of all, and the honor of one is the honor of all,
and whatever we do effects everything in the universe.
If you do it that way - that is,
if you truly join your heart and mind as one - whatever you ask for, that's the way it's going to be.
Passed down from White Buffalo Calf Woman
“This injun is gonna kill me!” Vicki cried exploding through the front door, hands waving above her head. Proceeding into the restaurant, she playfully bumped her hip against Lena’s as she passed the counter and continued her way to the back of the establishment.
Nickie questioned with a raised eyebrow as Lena laughingly explained,
“I guess last month’s figures were good.”
Nickie allowed herself a twirl on the swivel stool on which she sat and queried:
“Good?”
Lena smiled. “Yeah,” she affirmed, “real good.”
In the three years since Lena began working at Vicki’s, many changes had taken place. Vicki managed to obtain a lease on the store on the north side of her restaurant at a very economical rate. A new, large
doorway between the two units created, the entire space expanded and
completely renovated, the restaurant, under Lena’s direction, opened to rave revues in record time.
Vicki made her way to her office, a feeling of gratitude overwhelming her as she walked through the newly refurbished restaurant. That girl is such a blessing to me! She thought to herself.
Blessing? she chuffed inwardly, hell, she’s a bloody miracle! Look at
this place, I’m a goddamn entrepreneur! Vicki smiled to herself at her infrequent swearing. It made her feel good, like she had grown up all of a sudden – finally.
Too restless to stay in her office, Vicki slowly walked around the restaurant, soaking it in – gloating, actually – to herself.
Shining hardwood flooring replaced the cracked and worn linoleum. Reflected in its shining expanse were new maple tables and chairs. The
walls, painted a soft, creamy white, mellowed the room, and simple,
pendant lights replaced the old, yellowed globes of before.
The counter remained – a nostalgic gesture on the owner’s part, highly polished maple replacing the worn Formica. The old chalkboard was gone, and freshly printed menus lay waiting at a small hostess station. A new kitchen, built behind the wall against which the griddle stood, boasted all new equipment.
Vicki’s was not a fine-dining establishment, but it was up-scale from most of the restaurants surrounding it, excepting those located in the various hotels within the downtown Columbus area.
Comfortable and warm, Vicki’s was a nice alternative to the fast food chains and high-end restaurants available to office workers, shoppers and tourists, but its main attraction was the food.
Vicki returned to her office. Putting her feet up, and resting them on the top of her desk, she nested the back of her head in her cupped hands, leaning back in the comfortable, leather chair which Lena insisted upon for her employer’s office.
She loved going back over the past three years. She enjoyed the remembering, savored the memories, like a child carrying her Christmas stocking around until she went to bed on Christmas night, cradling it in her arms until she slept.
She saw herself turning from wiping down the counter, saw Lena sitting stiffly at a table, hands clasped, an intent look upon her elfin face. She heard herself ask if there was anything she would like, heard Lena answer,
“I’d like a job, please.”
She remembered her reaction: surprise, confusion, incredulity. She heard her mind say:
“I’m sorry, you’re too young. I need someone for more hours than you can work. I don’t have time to train you,” and instead heard herself say,
“When can you start.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
Were there really guardian angels? Vicki could have sworn that she felt a hand press her shoulder, a body lean into hers and whisper into her ear:
“Take this opportunity!”
Was it T.J.? Was he still here watching over her?
She remained frozen, still in the position of wiping the counter, bar rag in her hand, pressed upon the old, scratched Formica surface. She saw Lena rise, smile, and answer,
“As soon as you’ll have me.”
Vicki swung her feet from her desk and crossed her legs, and then her arms. She treasured the remembering – prized the reflections.
She gave Lena a key to Vicki’s six months after she began working at the restaurant. Arriving one summer morning, she was surprised to
find Lena already there, a delicious aroma wafting through the narrow
room. Sniffing with enjoyment, Vicki exclaimed, “What is THAT?”
“Three Sisters Soup,” Lena explained, turning from the four-burner stove adjoining the griddle.
“Three Sisters Soup?” “Yes,” Lena returned.
“I walked to the fresh vegetable and fruit stand down by State
Street. I talked to the owner, and he let me have these vegetables for nothing. I told him, that if this worked, we’d be ordering from him daily.”
Taken aback, Vicki queried,
“You promised him that I would order from him every day?” shock and dismay sending shivers down her spine.
“It’s okay,” Lena reassured, “I didn’t say for sure. I told him what I was trying, and he said it sounded like a good idea. If it works, he’ll sell us fresh vegetables and fruits at a nice discount.
“You see, you’re selling that restaurant-issue, canned soup, which is
okay, but so is everyone else. So, I thought I’d make fresh. It’s cheaper, tastes better, and no one else is selling this. I promise, people will be coming here for THIS soup!” Lena averred, gazing solemnly into Vicki’s worried eyes.
Vicki looked her doubt. Lena grabbed a ladle, and gently prepared a portion of the fragrant, delicious soup.
“Here,” she said, “try it and see!”
The restaurateur in Vicki noted that the serving was very attractive. Something orange…
“What’s this?” Vicki asked.
“Squash,” Lena replied. Vicki looked closer at the steaming bowl. The vivid orange of the squash, glowing white of potatoes, verdant green of string beans and bright yellow of whole kernel corn presented to the eyes a vibrant, enticing dish. The aroma of the homemade turkey broth, coupled with the squash and vegetables, was unbelievable. Vicki picked up a spoon and tasted the soup.
There was no going back.
A rapid knock, and the opening of the door, interrupted Vicki’s musings. Lena entered, carrying a fragrant mug of herbal tea.
“Here you go oh, Great One!” she intoned laughingly, setting the mug on a coaster at the corner of the desk.
Smiling, Vicki retrieved the mug, and blowing gently upon the
surface of the aromatic liquid, took a timid sip. It was just right.
“This is good,” she thanked. Lena smiled, and plopped into a leather side chair beside the desk.
“I want to go over today’s menu with you. I know it will be fine, but you know that I like to double-check.”
Vicki smiled her agreement, and settled back in her comfortable
chair, the warm mug cupped within her hands.
“Okay, Three Sisters Soup, of course,” Lena began. “Can’t open without that,” Vicki affirmed.
“Right,” Lena smiled. “Chili, for the meat eaters.” Vicki nodded agreement.
“Now, main courses: hamburgers, of course. Gotta have those. French fries….listen, this time let’s try the sweet potato fries, okay?”
Lena entreated.
Vicki thought for a moment and nodded.
“Okay, but let’s offer both.” Lena smiled her agreement.
“Of course. Let’s see, baked salmon with tomatoes and shallots…” Lena continued until the entire menu was gone through. Satisfied,
Vicki stood up, and walking around her desk, encircled Lena in her arms. “Good job as usual,” she beamed.
Chapter Eight
Humankind has not woven the web of life.
We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together.
All things connect. Chief Seattle, 1854
Vicki created a special place for Peter in her now popular restaurant. At the entrance of the doorway separating the two rooms, and within four steps of the counter, was the Spotted Eagle table, as Vicki liked to call it. Here, Peter could sit as long as he liked, chain-smoking, and drinking the endless cups of rez coffee provided.
He was content. Mary and Reva both worked part-time in the restaurant, Reva less than the others. Now 78, she was still spry, and capable of a full days work, but Vicki and Lena were careful not to overtax the elderly, yet still vibrant, senior citizen. Wife and mother kept a careful eye on husband and son, and were thankful for the opportunity to earn more money for the family while caring for their loved one.
As with all serious brain injuries, Peter had not fully recovered from his accident. His personality was still sweet and loving, but he seemed incapable of putting a string of new thoughts together. His days were filled with old Indian jokes, proverbs, stories, and long, relaxed silences.
He’d become a mascot as it were. Regulars would walk by, raise a hand in greeting, and proceed to their tables. Occasionally, Peter would stop them, look up and smiling ask, for instance:
“How many Oglalas does it take to change a light bulb? Seven!
One to change the bulb and six to sing the ‘changing of the light bulb song.’”
They would laugh politely, wave and move on, sometimes confused, and sometimes genuinely entertained by Peter’s jokes and
stories.
Vicki would often take her break at Peter’s table, bringing him a treat – a muffin or fry bread to munch on. Vicki would solicit his advice, drawing him in to the running of the restaurant so as to make him feel as though he were contributing.
This did not go unnoticed by Mary and Reva, and on one particular occasion, when Vicki asked Peter’s advice on how to improve the rez coffee, Mary turned to Reva and said,
“I think you’re absolutely right.”
Lena leaned back on the old sofa in the three-room apartment in which she now lived by herself. Her mother, father and grandmother, now owned a small house on City Park Avenue in German Village. Equipped with handrails and ramps for Peter, it made life easier for the physically and mentally challenged patriarch of the family. With the help of intensive physical therapy, Peter learned to walk again, but he tired quickly, and experienced frequent bouts of vertigo. As a result, he would often revert to his wheelchair. Mary felt that the little house would be more comfortable for her husband, and so the move was made.
It was Lena’s day off, and she was spending her time going over new menu ideas, and sketching endless scenes of restaurant designs and seating arrangements. There was a rapid knock on the door. Lena called,
“come in,” and Reva entered. Approaching tentatively, Reva sat down
beside Lena, gingerly placing her left hand upon her granddaughter’s shoulder.
“Cedar Woman,” she said. Lena looked up with surprise. Seldom did her grandmother use her NdN32 name. This must be important.
“Cedar Woman,” she repeated, “I have spoken to the grandfathers, and we are to go to Keokuk this summer for the Annual Gathering of the People. There we will meet with Tell Wolf and Ina Mahto Luta33, and Mahto Luta.34 I have asked Vicki to become my daughter. She has agreed.
Lena was surprised, to say the least! “Your daughter?”
“Ohan,” affirmed Reva. She is family here,” Reva stated, patting her bony chest.
“She has been good to us. She has given us work. She has given
you opportunity. Yes,” Reva continued, nodding, “It is good. She will become my daughter. We will go to Keokuk and we will have the Hunkapi.35
The air smelled of rain. Gusts of wind passed over sweat-soaked brows, bringing temporary relief. It was eleven a.m., and temperatures rose to above 100 degrees.
32 Indian – preferred spelling used in written materials
33 Ee-nuh Mah-to Loo-tah – Mother Red Bear
34 Mah-to Loo-tah – Red Bear
35 Hoon-kah-pee – Adoption Ceremony
The aroma of food drifted upon a moisture-rich breeze, making mouths water with thoughts of food: Indian tacos, corn and fry bread, washed down with lemonade, sodas and cool, cool water.
Eight men entered the encircled enclosure, taking their places around the large can cega36. They began to beat the drum and sing in unison, their voices, soaring to the vaulted dome of heaven.
The Grand Entrance began, and people of the Lakota and Dakota, of the Cheyenne and other tribes, entered in full ceremonial dress. They stepped around the arena, toe, heel, toe, heel. Lena marveled at the beauty of the regalia. Here was a woman in a silky dress with a gorgeous shawl with long fringe. Another dancer, a woman again, her tube-like dress covered in metal cones that tinkled as she walked. A man danced by in a magnificent headdress. It was then that she saw him. His regalia was white and black, with multi-colored beading in a striped design. He wore a kind of cape, fringed with what appeared to be airy feathers or rib
bons, Lena couldn’t tell for sure. A beaded headband encircled his head and matched the beaded moccasins he wore upon his feet. He wore a headdress, called a Roach, of what Lena later found out was porcupine guard hair and deer hair, dyed to the dancer's specifications. His dark hair was braided, and his regalia seemed to sway as he spun and danced in time to the powwow drum.
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