Logan Singing Grass Young Bear was a healthy baby. Born May 1,
1995, he arrived two weeks later than his projected birth date. Reva bent and lifted the small child from his bassinet. Crooning, she examined the small, disfigured face of her great-grandson.
Logan, named for his great-grandfather, was born with a moderately severe clefting of the lip, gums and hard and soft palates. But, he was beautiful. The defect could not mar the fact that he was, indeed, a handsome boy, and Reva rejoiced in the fact that her life was extended to the point that she could hold her great-grandson in her arms.
Mary peered over her mother-in-law’s shoulder, her eyes misty with love and protectiveness. Peter beamed his happiness, a slight droop still manifesting on the left side of his mouth.
“Cha! Did anyone ever see such a beautiful child?” Reva asked, swaying slightly in the universal way women rock when holding a baby.
Now 80, Reva Two Strikes Catcher still stood straight, filled her days with work, and was now caregiver for her great-grandson.
Along with the restaurant, Lena inherited Vicki’s house in
Westerville. Standing on a private lake, the serene atmosphere helped to calm the young widow when stress threatened to overcome her. She missed her beloved condo, but it wasn’t the same now that Michael was no longer there with her. Renting it to a young couple, she moved to the house in Westerville, and there awaited the birth of her child.
Reva moved in with her granddaughter, and watched the young
Logan while his mother worked at the downtown restaurant.
At age two months, Logan underwent lip closure surgery. He still needed a Mead Johnson Cleft Palate Nurser to eat; his hard and soft
88 Hoh, Mee-kah-ooh-yay oh-yah-pee heh tdchey tduu yeh loh – Ho all of my relations. I have spoken and it is so.
palates were still open, and he couldn’t form a vacuum to suck. The soft- sided bottles allowed anyone feeding Logan to gently squeeze his formula into his mouth. Logan was fed upright. His uvula was also split, and since its function was to stop a baby from choking while lying supine, the upright position prevented this from occurring.
Logan thrived, and was soon sporting chubby cheeks, his little legs filling out and kicking in the air with gusto. His eyes were large and brown, drawing everyone’s attention to them. His little nose was canted
to the left. Since his alveolar ridge, or upper gum line, was also clefted,
the nose did not have the support it needed. This would be fixed in subsequent surgeries.
His mother adored him.
Chapter Eighteen
As I Walk with Beauty, As I walk, as I walk,
The universe is walking with me. In beauty it walks before me;
In beauty it walks behind me; In beauty it walks below me;
In beauty it walks above me.
Beauty is on every side.
As I walk, I walk with Beauty. Traditional Navajo Prayer
Lena was frantic about getting Logan to drink from a cup. Dr. Reuben, the plastic surgeon to whom Lena had decided to entrust her child, stated that Logan must be able to drink from a cup before palate surgery. Once the palates were closed, suction would be possible, and dangerous to the newly closed palates until they healed; a vacuum could rip the stitches and reopen them. Even a sippy cup could cause a vacuum to form, and put stress on new sutures.
Countless, frustrating hours were spent in trying to get the little imp to comply, until one day, tired of standing by and watching the drama, Reva got up from the table and walked to the kitchen which adjoined the family room. Opening a drawer, and extracting a spoon, she calmly walked to the child secured firmly in a high chair, dipped the spoon into the glass of water, placed it upon his lips and tilted. He drank. Continuing until the vessel was half way consumed, she lifted the cup and placed it against Logan’s lips. Again, he drank.
“Cha! So much fuss. The child is thirsty – he will drink, ennit!” Reva proclaimed.
Relief swept through Lena’s body, and then chagrin. “Cha, Unci, I have been blinded by fear!”
Reva smiled, nodded, and continued the procedure until Logan
emptied the cup.
Lena bent over the crib in which her 14-month-old son slept. Gathering him gently into her arms, she lifted him from the bed and held him to her. She was sick in her heart – this was one of “those” days.
Lena found her child adorable, and often wondered at those who saw his anomaly as something to be ashamed or afraid of. Indeed, on the day of his birth, her unci declared, “Cha! Creator has marked you for
Himself, ennit?” Looking into the eyes of her great-grandchild, Reva
firmly believed that Creator often marked people to protect them from the evil spirits that walked, not only the earth, but the spirit realm as well. In putting a special “stamp” on individuals, Creator boldly stated:
“Stay away! This soul is special to me.”
In addition, a person thus marked gained strength, which traditionally beautiful people might never know. In living with the anomaly, and in modern times, the subsequent surgeries and therapies, the individual born with the anomaly would learn a tenacity of spirit uncommon to those who walked the earth with no such challenges.
Creator’s choices could be seen throughout the world: children born with dwarfism, aging at an accelerated rate, extra or defective limbs or, in Logan’s instance, craniofacial anomalies.
But, society had its preferences, and they did not include a person whose face did not live up to accepted standards.
Today was one of “those” days – the day of Logan’s second surgery
– hard and soft palate closure.
The hours crawled by.
If only Michael were here, Lena mourned to herself.
She missed him, missed him passionately. Their time together was so short:
How could I have known that I had to get a lifetime of love in eight, short months? she wondered to herself.
Sitting in the waiting room at Children’s Hospital, Lena, Reva, Mary, Peter, Sonny and Nickie, waited anxiously for the surgeon to call.
An hour passed, and they knew that it would be longer before they heard. The telephone on the attendant’s desk finally rang. She answered and
nodded to Lena. Rushing to the phone, Lena clutched the receiver to her ear: it had gone well. Logan was on the way to his room.
Lena reclined on the sofa in her family room, which overlooked the back deck. It was sunrise, and an ethereal mist lay upon the dawn-struck waters of the lake. Logan lay in her arms. Now four, he was recovering from his third surgery: lip revision, in which his upper lip was plumped out by taking flesh from the inside of his mouth, and filling in the inverted v-shaped notched left behind; tip rhinoplasty where his left nostril was sculpted to match the right, and ear tubes.
Being male, Logan’s Eustachian tubes lay more vertically than a girl’s. To make matters worse, the structure of the bones of his skull were compromised by the clefting, and his Eustachian tubes lay more vertically than was typical, even for a male. Ear tubes were a simple
solution in the attempt to prevent repeated ear infections, which could result in possible hearing loss. They would drain any collecting fluid, and help to prevent ensuing problems.
This was their first day home after a two-day stay at the hospital. As with his other two surgeries, Logan spiked a high fever after his operation. The hyperthermia kept him in Children’s until it could be kept under control.
Lena spent most of their stay in the hospital lying in the crib Logan occupied. Cradled within his mother’s arms, he made it through the ordeal. Now, at home, exhausted, he rested quietly.
She looked down upon his sleeping form. Soft, round baby cheeks, shadowed by a crescent of eyelash, pulled at her heart.
I love you so much! she whispered to herself.
Lena lay back on the pillows placed to support her back. This was one of her favorite places to be – especially in the early m
orning hours. She could watch the dawn while holding her sweet boy. Soon the ducks
would begin their quacking, the geese their honking, the birds their
singing, and sun would spill out upon the lake like a liquid rainbow, poured from a giant pitcher by the hand of Creator.
Lena shifted her body a little and repositioned Logan. Glancing down upon him once again, her breath caught in her throat:
What you have taught me! she marveled. Your beauty transcends your anomaly.
How could anyone not see his beauty? It was there in the way his bright hair curled, his lovely, large, luminous, brown eyes, his chubby
cheeks, dimpled, star-like hands and vibrant smile. A faint, white scar
gave testimony to the lip closure at age two months, and now the stitches below his left nostril from the tip rhinoplasty.
Lena drew her child to her. She remembered how she frantically tried to get him to drink from a cup, only to watch as her unci solved the problem with common sense. She laughed to herself,
My unci! Only she could see right to the heart of the problem and
quietly fix it.
Unci!
Lena felt a tear slide down her cheek. Her wise and gentle grandmother had passed to the spirit world just six months before. Upon wakening on that fateful day, Lena walked to the kitchen to find it dark: no coffee brewing, no clatter of pots and pans. Returning to the upstairs, she opened the door to her grandmother’s bedroom. There Reva lay, her face toward the window, a smile upon her aged face. Lena looked out of the windowpane, following her grandmother’s gaze. There, on the shore, stood two blue herons, their necks entwined. Reva was now with her husband; she had ridden the wing of the Thunderbird to the edge of the universe.
Chapter Nineteen
Ho, Thunder Being Nation, I hear you singing.
I greet you as a relative, and thank you for the gifts that you bring.
Ho, Thunder Being Nation, I come singing.
I gift you with tobacco as a thank you for your gift. Ho, Thunder Being Nation, the skies are singing. Ho, my relations, I have spoken and it is so.
Julie Spotted Eagle Horse Martineu
Sonny unlocked the door to the restaurant. Ducking in quickly, he closed the door against an early August thunderstorm.
He liked this time of day, when he was alone in Vicki’s. He could pretend that Michael would show up shortly with Lena. Soon Vicki would follow, and the day would slowly begin. In the five years since
Michael and Vicki’s deaths, Sonny never ceased to miss them; he never
quite got away from the pain their memory caused. Then, there was
Nickie.
Sonny winced inwardly at the picture of her that came to his mind’s eye: hurt, confused, broken.
The scene played out before him like a home movie gone bad: his running after Nickie as she fled from the funeral home; Nickie in her car
sobbing; Nickie opening the door as he rapped on the window, scooting over for him to enter the car, her face distorted with pain; Sonny driving
her home and helping her into her apartment.
I should never have gone in, he scolded himself, for once through the door, she was in his arms.
Sonny remembered looking down upon her as they lay on the floor. Nickie’s eyes closed, her lower lip caught between her teeth, tears flowing down her temples and into her hair. Moved, and driven by
compassion, and yes lust, he had to admit, he made love to her right there
on her antique, braided rug.
Later Sonny made a hasty exit, hating himself, hating what he knew he was doing to Nickie.
She didn’t understand, and the look of hurt and anguish on her face would remain in his memory forever. She allowed him to see it once,
when her guard was down, but only once. It made it even worse for him to bear.
It took some time for Sonny to realize that they both reacted out of
grief. The death of their friends was unbearable, and somehow, they needed to celebrate life, celebrate it in the most primal way possible – making love. But, it didn’t make Sonny feel any better about what he’d
done, and definitely had not eased Nickie’s grief. Truth to tell, it increased it.
Slowly, Sonny came to realize that Nickie loved him, and his heart clenched anew at the knowledge. He could never love Nickie, not that way. His only love walked in the diminutive form of 23-year-old Lena
Cedar Woman, the widow of his brother/cousin.
Lena drove past the Whetstone Park of Roses on her way to pick up Jo-Ann.
I need to remember to bring Logan here, she mused, thinking of how her four-year-old dynamo would love the many varieties of roses displayed in over 11,000 rose bushes and herb, daffodil and perennial gardens set on 13 acres of Clintonvile’s Whetstone Park.89
Lena drove another block and pulled into the parking lot of the three- story office building where Jo-Ann worked for an ophthalmologist, the only job she’d ever held. Jo-Ann was coming to spend the weekend.
Their friendship remained intact, and Jo-Ann was a frequent visitor,
especially on weekends. Jo-Ann could no longer afford to get away on vacations, and considered Lena’s lakeside home her own, personal, weekend retreat. She would sit on the deck, drinking her “martoonis,” reveling in the quiet, bucolic atmosphere of the secluded neighborhood. Jo-Ann was coming out of the building just as Lena pulled in.
“What, no Logan?” she queried, disappointment in her voice.
“We’ll be picking him up at day care,” Lena informed, “It’s just about time for the school to let out. From there, we’re going to this restaurant I want you to check out. It’s called Carsonie’s. We love it and they’re very nice to Logan,” Lena finished.
“How is the school turning out?” Jo-Ann asked. “Beautifully!” Lena smiled.
Pulling out of the parking lot, she directed her faithful Punkin’ toward
Cooke Road. Lena found it amusing that, like her mother, she preferred the back roads to the freeway. Perhaps it was because of Michael and Vicki…..shaking off the thought, she immediately began to bring herself
up to date on Jo-Ann’s life and friends. Although they spoke on the
phone often, face-to-face conversations were by far more satisfying.
Soon, they were pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot located in the Glengary shopping center. Logan, secured in his car seat in the back of the ancient car, clapped his hands in joy. He knew what awaited him. David, the chef/owner, had created a special dish for him called “The Logan Special,” which consisted of spaghetti, extra sauce and extra bread.
89 http://www.clintonville.com/parkrec/rosegarden.html
Logan waved to the server on duty, and the three friends selected a booth. Soon menus, flatware and water, with Logan’s obligatory glass of chocolate milk, were presented. Lena immediately placed her hand around the tumbler of milk so that Logan’s lunge for the tasty beverage did not upset the glass.
“Okay, this place is cool. I like it,” Jo-Ann offered.
“It has given me an idea,” Lena informed. “I like that it is ethnically identified, it’s well run and organized, and the menu offers a nice selection without going overboard like many do. Jo-Ann, I want to open my own restaurant right here in Westerville.”
There was a flash, a crack of thunder and a curtain of rain. “Wopila!” Logan crowed, his chubby arms held heavenward!
Lena laughed and pulled her son toward her, kissing his silky hair. “Wopila, indeed!” she laughed. “The Thunderbirds approve!”
Chapter Twenty
Honor the sacred. Honor the Earth, our Mother. Honor the Elders.
Honor all with whom we share the Earth:
Four-leggeds, two-leggeds, winged ones,
Swimmers, crawlers, Plant and rock people.
Walk in balance and beauty.
Native American Elder
Endrit90 tossed roasted poblanos, garlic, spinach and honey in
to a blender and hit the pulse button. Since his arrival in the U.S., Endrit, or Diti91, as his friends called him, had immersed himself in the ethnic cuisines of the Americas, especially Cajun, Creole, African, Hispanic and Native American. He landed his job at Vicki’s shortly after his graduation from the Columbus Culinary Institute.
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