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Gripe: verb -complain about something in a persistent irritating way.

Griping: noun-the action complaining in a persistent irritating way.

This word “gripe” has become a national pastime, and since it has become more so, since it is an inherent right.

I did not fully realize this until, I started looking at the origin of it.

This interest was sparked during the Sunday morning church service. It happened during our testimony time, where one gets up to praise God for all he has blessed them.

One lady got up and spoke of how blessed she was by the help in the kitchen. With all the other ladies who helped her and put up with her griping.

 I sit up straighter as my brain said “what” when my ear caught the word griping!

I had been telling people that I had joined the Army to get all my griping over with. Military people I believed were the top dogs of griping.

Now comes this Christian lady telling us all about how she gripes!

That should not be so!

As my righteous indignation rose up, it was quickly quelled (i.e. doused or stopped) by God.

He reminded me of all the sermons about being in Gods’ Army.

So there!

Yet!

There remains this question of where did this right to gripe come from?

Throughout history one had to be silent or secretly voice your gripe. Kings, lords, dictators, and more than like Ndn chiefs could have you killed, imprisoned, fined, or banished from the tribe.

So, this curtailed public griping amid fears of reprisals.

Personally, this Ndn might have been banished without his bow and arrows, tomahawk, knife and so on. It would most certainly limit his ability to procure food and clothing.

Hmmm I wonder if those who banished tribes to reservations and told the Ndns to raise crops were vegans?

Just a thought.

Ndn people by and large were meat eaters with some tribes raising crops too.

So, griping could bring and exact severe punishment to the griper.

This is some reasons why griping remain subdued.

I think it became more prevalent as natural resources dried up. Namely food supplies, building materials, and even people from wars.

Rulers started facing angry, desperate people. They were viewed as subjects not worthy of having a voice.

That is why in history gripes turned into war of words, against the  rulers and leaders. They wanted more and demanded a right to be heard.

Today more people gripe about anything and some very silly things and the internet proves this fact.

To have a reasonable conversation with facts is no longer the norm if we could find a norm.

Griping has become very intense these days.

The Bible in Proverbs 18:6 says “A fools, lips enter into contention, and his mouth calls for blows.”

Some are known for their many words but never saying anything that makes sense.

Words that make up speech are guarded by the American Constitution about the right to gripe…..or more commonly known as Free Speech.

This one thing I have learned is …..not to grip.

Now I just complain.

A time for thanksgiving yet today there will be some protests for this or that.

Mainly whatever is the flavor of the day or week or month or…!

That is, some one’s perceived right or their rights have been violated.

Today I start my protest, against the letter “F.”

And another one is against hair turning white!

Creeks that have water flowing in them.

Dead batteries and dead trees too!

Birds that cannot fly.

The four seasons no not the singing group but why four?

For us to have one climate.

One nation under heaven or God. Wait! Is that two protests?

I wonder would anyone come? 

Some might, if I told them about it or shouted long and loud enough.

The question is like the proverbial question one of “if a tree falls in the forest does it make a noise?”

Well yes it does, I have been in the forest and heard and seen it fall.

It was clear as day I heard it yell, I am falling, and timber!

It did not yell “look out!”

Well not really, just joking.

I started a protest today about the unfairness and ugliness in the world today.

I was all alone.

I thought but, just like the characters in the Bible such as Moses, Elijah, Gideon, and others I was not.

The Great Spirit himself came to hear and remind me I was not alone. As it turns out there were two others along with the Father, came the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

A protest is a lot of hot air and shouting mostly by weirdly colored-haired people.

Ndn braves would color their hair to look fiercer in battle. This might be a native appropriation thing too I do not know.

Red hair works, green I do not think so unless it is a camouflage thing.

Orange sorta yea. Purple naw. Blue well, maybe dark blue.

 Pink? Really!  Pink? I, can picture ol ndn Joe Scout shake his head and say Ha!

Ha is a short ndn word for……….. well, you get the idea.

This thing I do know if!  I started a protest and no one came the Lord tells me that I am not alone.

The Great Spirit is always with me in three personages.

Believe it or not!

Why can’t we just have food and feetball?

How does one change the climate or affect climate? That has been quite a debate over time but now more so lately.

At the very least understanding of terminology helps such as:

Climate: noun the weather conditions prevailing in an area in general over a long period of time. Ok understand that this is a basic concept taught in or was during my time in grade schools and high school.

I wonder with all the shouting and screaming from kids and even so, called adults if they understand this.

That climate changes over time. History shows this and what temperature was it before man appeared?

Here in what is known today as America, were the people of the land. i.e. indigenous, Indians, ndns’.  Are those that lived here before the start of this American global warming?  There is blame being passed about but, is it because the tribal people used up too much resources? Did we chop up the forest for wood to cook meat and for heat?

I never ate raw meat at least not intentionally. I have camped out in the army and in civilian life. Those boogers can get cold so even teepees, and mud-houses, needed wood for heat.

Over time this country discovered oil on ndn land and of course natural  gas too. The fight came over the ndn not using them or knowing what they could be used for.  

As also in other countries this has happened too.

And oh Lord no, one must have a good log cabin to live in more wood from the forest. Less places for the animals to run wild and free. Plus the ndns too. Wild that is and free.

There is a lot of crying going on about air pollution from autos, planes and trains. I might have to get rid of my little Ford Ranger at least I do not own a plane or even a train.

I have worked at a frozen food processing plant and a nursery.  Nothing as disgusting to activists as an oil, gas, or a coal mine worker.

Yes siree, Bob I do not own a fuel guzzling, polluting aeroplane. How do all the people get to where they are protesting? What mode of transport did they use?

One thing for the ndn before civilization came, he had to walk. Oh darn! He did leave a footprint some they seem get mighty upset about that. The ndn cannot win for losing. He left a footprint. Darn!

Justice: noun just behavior or treatment.

Hmm justice, was another of those words banded about during this climate deal they had going on.  Well, those old ndn’s have been looking for this but sometimes in the wrong places and ways.
We have seen if you stand in the way of progress, you get trampled or put on a piece of land no one wants. That is until something is there they need.

That is an injustice to those who do not benefit from it. it is true that not all the promises made by big corporate America have been kept. Land lays wasted and bears the scars of misuse.

Often the land is not fit for occupation after the minerals or whatever is exhausted.

Occupied: adjective being used as busy or active.

There was a lot of shouting going on about occupied land. It had to do with Israel in the Gaza strip. True there is an occupation going on. How does one get climate justice on occupied land from this?

Climate Justice really that is not even a thing! I as an ndn would love that kind of justice for my little piece of land.

Every spring the grass grows and grows there is no justice in that. Why it would be great if it grew to and inch in height and stopped! That would create a great climate for me. No seating as I mow the yard. It certainly would make my occupation of this land more just to me. I could justify buying a hammock to laze in.

Alas there is no justice for this occupied land subject to the changes in climate year after year.

Darn..oh yea, it does say in the Bible something about it in Genesis 3:18 “both thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you…”I do battle dandelions, garlic and other weeds.

Such is life as we are occupied with in this climatic, unjust, land.

Here is a thought:

How about lowering the voices so you can create a climate of calmness, maybe with this climate there would be no anger or loud shouting creating a just or fair environment for a discussion, furthermore with a calmer voice you would not use up so much oxygen and leave some for others, this means you occupy less space than you deserve.

It is just a thought.   

The 12^th has passed and no birthday celebration or trip to anywhere. This date of mom’s birthday but she passed from this life back in 2007.

My birthday is two days after and I would joke that I was her birthday gift.

Mom and dad raised eight kids four boys four girls.  Now there are only four daughters and one son left.

 I had seen in the news about women fighting for their reproductive rights. They claim the government has taken them away. Not so they still have them.

They were not sterilized or given forced abortions. Though over the ages some have such as with native people among others. History is a forgotten thing until it serves your own purpose.

We as a country and people do have a sad history.  As do other countries too.

Mom and dad faced the same things as others had to. They grew up during the dust bowl days and lived through the depression and just life in general. With each new baby more resources were needed to clothe, feed, and board us.

I remember beans, and taters both fried and boiled. Meat came from the occasional deer and butchered pig along with rabbits, squirrels, and fish. Wild onion, Polk salad and other greens and berries too.

Along with some commodities which came our way.

Clothes that had patches from hand me downs-handed down till even the patches wore-out.

From log cabins with no indoor plumbing, or electricity, to finally an NDN home. We lived where mom and dad could afford to keep a roof over our heads.

Did mom ever think oh, no, another mouth to feed? This I do not know but yes, probably. When dad passed away in 1970 mom had to learn how to drive at the age of 42 and she got her drivers’ license too!

I must say we were not the greatest kids to raise and she had to raise her voice to us many times.

Six of us went to boarding school after graduating from Dahlonegah Grade school. Boarding school was cheaper than going to regular high school.

Why this story now, you may ask, or wonder about it? Well, it is to say this, I am thankful to have known my mom. To have had a mom even against odds of raising us, in the-midst of poverty. With our own alcohol problems and some surprise pregnancies.

Pregnancies happen when one has sex, without precautions. Some come from being under the influence of drugs and alcohol. Others from rape or incest. And from adultery or if it makes you feel better from affairs.

Those are reasons why?

These things do happen. In all cultures and countries.

I can say our family has taken care of those born into the family.

The Bible does say in Psalm 127:3 “behold children are a heritage form the Lord the fruit of the womb is a reward.” On the 14^th of November I was born into the family but, I do not remember mom holding me.

At first since, I was a newborn!

I was blessed to have a mom that kept me and raised me. I never did say to mom I love you. Nor to my brothers who have passed away. I missed those opportunities.

This expression I can start with my sisters and all my nieces, nephews and now some great ones too.

This one thing I learned from my mother was that she loved the grandkids more than us.

 Funny huh?

I believe that Mothers’ Day is on the wrong day and month it should be on your birthday that you celebrate your mom!

                                                                                 Amen

Speed? I understand this is supposed to be about Ndns’ and or what one perceives of themselves.

In every group, tribe, or just the masses there is a movement and that involves pace. Pace another word for how slow or fast one moves.

How I came to this topic is sort of embarrassing because of this one fact. I got stopped for speeding.

It happened in the small town of Westville, Oklahoma does sound sort of hickish. I know!  Westville you think? Is there an Eastville you might ponder sadly I have to say no. This tale might have been, more interesting if there had been one.

Ok about my speeding and why I got stopped.

Firstly, I admit to speeding doing 48mph in and 25 mph zone.  I turned at the stoplight on highway 59 onto highway 62 west going towards Tahlequah. I hit the intersection just as the light turned green and turned onto highway 62 going about 35mph and sped up as I started going out of Westville heading home.

No more than a hundred feet past the 25mph sign sat the good ol city police car with the good ol city cop sitting in it. I raced past him and thought oh no! Sure enough, he hit his lights and turned onto the highway and came behind me with lights flashing!

Darn it! I thought as I started slowing down as soon as I spotted the coppers car. I hoped he was answering an emergency call up ahead of me but, alas he was not!

I told the wife we are getting pulled over for speeding. The cop asked me “do you know why I pulled you over?”

 I said “yes.”

The he asked me “oh I need to know is there a medical emergency?”  I answered “no.”

I thought about it later as he asked me this question and came up with this thought.

Uhh, yes there is officer. You see my wife has lost her mind. We are racing back to the places where she might have lost it.

But this thought did not as I get older the mind does not work (or speed) as fast.

I think he would have been ok, with that answer.

 He was very polite and was not overbearing. 

Overall, it turned out to be a good encounter even though it did cost me quite a bit of moolah.

To those who do not know hickish language “moolah” means money.

I guess I could have fought it all the way to the Supreme court but….. do my rights as an NDN go as far as putting others in danger with reckless speeding or behavior?

Why even parents tell kids to slow down as they race around in the house. We can remember those times we were told to stop running in the house and ran into and knocked something over.

Lord has mercy but my parents did not!

I wonder how many times NDN kids, teens or even the older ones were scolded for running or riding ponies through the camp.

Have times change that much that we ignore common sense laws? Maybe we just ignore common sense with our own righteous N-Dig-Nation.

Have we become like Mocha the lop-eared rabbit who came running down the hallway way too fast. She was running so fast that she ran right into a stack of books. Luckily, she moved faster so they did not fall on her lop-eared self.

These days ever person is claiming their rights or doing what they think is best for country and freedom.

Just like Saul in the New Testament. Who was breathing threats and murders against the disciples…got letters from the high priest and went out to bind up those disciples.

Today do we like Saul go out to do harm to those who are not hurting us? Does God have to meet us on the way? Maybe that was his way of saying to me slow down. Who do you think you are Richard Petty!

(Nascar driver Richard Petty.)

As Ndns can we slow down and look at what we have? Can the youth even see it or do they need a “Damascus Road” experience?

 Does America?

Which highway or dirt road are we speeding down?

this is the logo I wrote about in Legacy. sorry about that but at 67 years old still learning about how to work the net stuff..

Noun: something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past.

My last blog post entitled “Joe Scout” mentioned his service and what he liked to do namely fishing and playing ball. I forgot to mention that he also like to do art whether painting or drawing and he was quite good at it.

What does this have to do with the word “legacy” you wonder? Well ok, here goes. What is it you are going to leave as a reminder of who or what you were?

You might think my children are my Legacy, but what if they do not turn out the way you wanted them too?

Is it going to be money or possessions? Your name is it worth the paper it is written on?

We hear a lot about sports legacy or presidential legacy. A lot of these are not worthy of copying or emulating. Presidents make a lot of speeches about what they are going to do but it is mostly hot air. Sports stars talk of the team and the all for one mentality. Professional and college sports have now become about money and lots of it.

Maybe your name on a stadium, a presidential library, or a street sign.

As Ndn’s we have a legacy of fighting for the land that tribes lived on and used for hunting and fishing. We have broken treaties and a lot of killing on both sides. Reservation life is different then what some Oklahoma tribes have but now even that is changing. The McGirt decision has put us back on the Rez! This idea of the Reservation is one I have tried so hard to stay away from.

It is a different mindset when we recognize these borders.

To go past these and forge ahead for your people or kids is a better legacy then an inheritance of money, or possessions.

After I had posted my last blog I saw where the school namely Dahlonegah had put up a sign. You think so what? Well, it had the picture of a Cherokee ndn that Joe had designed years ago. It had disappeared from the gym floor a few years back. Today it is on the activity bus, gym floor and the school sign.

It is his legacy of giving something to the school. The school honoring that and who most of the students are. No, it is not a mascot! As some will probably protest in ignorance if they found out.

As one person who saw it for the first time said “look it is Joe’s ndn.

Legacy: in Luke 12:16-21 it talks about a rich man who had so much he built more barns and was fully satisfied. He was going to live a life of leisure…but God said “fool this night your soul is required of you; then whose, will these things be?”

Great Chiefs and warriors have come and gone as well as statesman. Their legacy remains but what about yours? Again, the question of what will you pass along or give to others?

What I hope for is not a picture of wonderful me when I know I truly was not always wonderful! Nor great but just ok as a brother, uncle or even a cuzz! If, you asked me, I pray that it is a sense of family. I become richer if I enrich their lives. I pray that is my legacy.

Memorial Day has passed as has D-Day the 6^th of June, and so has the 4^th of July, but still to come are November 11^th Veterans Day, and lest we forget Dec 7^th Pear Harbor Day.

These five days are marked down to commemorate the sacrifices of American Soldiers who served in the armed forces of the United States.

The days mean and meant different things to those who served in the many wars that America has fought in.

I know it did to Joe Scout.

He was simply a Cherokee ndn from the hills of Adair County.

Scout was not his real last name. Joe graduated from Sequoyah High School and then was drafted during the Vietnam war.

His tour of duty was in Nam he served in country with the 23^rd  Infantry Division known as the Americal Division. He came home to a country that did not like him or want him around.

Even though his roots went back further than the land known as America roots go.

But there were people who missed the draft or had deferment or crossed the border. They missed the luxurious living quarters that Joe enjoyed. A nice sandbagged bunker on top of a mountain surrounded by lush forested hills and valleys. He said “It could be a bit noisy with the big guns i.e. artillery going off at all hours of the night or day.”

All he had to worry about was the nocturnal visitors such as the rats, mosquitoes, and those black clad people from the north.

He also mentioned that right on time came those goodies from base camp. The ammo for the one-ohh-deuces and one-ohh-fives.

Rest came after fire missions or what he called the mad minute of firing the guns. A lot of work for ammo bearers whether in the heat or during the muddy season.

The draft dodgers missed the gourmet c-rations that Joe enjoyed as all service personnel have during their time of service.

Who can forget the fruit cake, ham and eggs, gravy and potatoes, and of course the all time favorite spaghetti and meatballs!

This idyllic resort that was his to enjoy while in Nam did come with some not so enjoyable happenings.

Like the time the Chinooks accidently dropped their ammo into the valley. Joe and company went down to retrieve it and he stumbled upon a black clad body lying in a stream bed. His world suddenly changed as he viewed the body, the war had come closer to his bunker.

He recounted the time one of the sergeants had caught a Vietnamese worker pacing off the measurements of the base.

Joe said “Dean I never saw the guy again.” And the time an owl would sit on top of the security fence post. Maybe it was the same Sergeant or not who walked by with some det-cord and wrapped it around the post. The Owl came as usual and settled on top of the post and blam! No more Owl just some feathers floating down!

Yep, Joe still wondered whooo was that sergeant?

He got bit by a rat later that year but that was why he got sent to Japan for some rest and recuperation. Some things are better left unsaid.

His greatest thrill during this was seeing Mt. Fuji.

He came home shortly afterwards and after some years got married. He kept some things closed off as all veterans of war do. He made it home alive and wondered for years why he did and others did not. He dealt with guilt about lobbing artillery at nameless and faceless people.

He even kept the Americal patch hidden away. Too many people who never served raised their voices in protest and called all those of the Americal Division “baby killers.”

Later, on he found the grace of God and forgave those who did not go and hated him for being there. He wore the crest of the 23^rd Infantry Division with the four stars. The four stars represent the Southern Cross of the Americal Division.

He started to enjoy life, playing softball, walking in the mountains, and fishing and of course the 4^th of July. The fireworks maybe brought back memories of firing off some bigger fireworks from the arty guns.

We found out later his health suffered from exposure to Agent Orange.

He passed from this life unto the next.

There are no statues of him nor did he have any songs written about him. All he wore are those of the National Defense ribbon and the Vietnam service ribbon. As taps are played signaling the passing of service people being laid to rest. Reveille is sounded for those who have Jesus as their saviour to awake unto life eternal.

Joe Scout was the nickname I gave him to all others he was simply Joe Scott. Or Jock. To others husband, dad, son, friend….

He served as other NDNs’ because this was still his country.

While taking my two-mile-walk today, I found myself thinking about running again. Only I had to remind myself or, rather remember the verse in Matthew 26:41 “Watch and pray, lest you enter not into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing but the flesh is weak.”

I was sorely tempted to run but, naw too many years have flown by.

My cross-country days are almost fifty years behind me now. I must be content with walking though the time it takes me to walk two miles is nothing to brag about!

When the subject of running a race comes up, I know for a fact that NDN’s are very good at it.

Some excel at it more than others.

Which brings me to the prefix of ex and its’ many uses.

We see ex-presidents, congressmen, and women, ex-actresses, or actors, and ex-athletes. From this one can surmise that ex means past or before, even used to be…

Like an ex-wife one who is no longer the wife or in the case of the male an ex-husband.

Though one does not say my ex-job it, it just does not seem to roll off the tongue smoothly. Does it?

The armed forces do infiltrate and when the muck hits the proverbial fan, they have to ex-filtrate pretty darn quick.

Ex-filtrate would have been a pretty fancy, word for the ndn’s to use but they just used the words like run or hide!

At least, I think they did.

I know we used a different word than ex-tract or ex-tracting, when we uhh borrowed a farmers’ watermelon, tomatoes, or picked some fruit from his trees.

Ohh yeah, how about when you re-lax can you ever ex-lax?

When one meets a veteran, he, or she is not an ex-serviceman, or woman, they are still soldiers it never leaves them. One of my pet peeves is when people talk about princess Diane. People conveniently forget she was divorced.  She lost the title of princess and become just an untitled person.

There are no ex-princesses in my neck of the woods.

Remember Prince he said “that he was now the artist formerly known as Prince.” He did not want to be called an ex-Prince.

One more point to ponder about the so called, X-men are they no longer men?

Maybe too much to stretch it that far huh?

I know of one entity that practices ex-communication does this mean you are not able to talk too, or hear from them?

I am glad that at least I can not become an ex-ndn at least until, there is an ex-ecutive order to that effect.

Might be too much for this simple ndn. If you can help me out please do so!

Now I must ex-it until the next time.

That means get out of Dodge!

On a Friday night I sat in on a celebration at my great nieces, graduation.

 I had rushed to get there I do not like being late.

The graduation has passed by about month and I know I am quite late in writing about it.

I listened to flowery speeches from dignitaries and the Valedictorians. I do not remember who gave the speech at my graduation from the same school but mine was over forty-nine years ago. The school had changed too, going from a B.I.A Boarding School to more like a regular high school.

I had told my nieces, nephews, and now the ones we call great nieces, or nephews, that I wanted to write their speeches. Alas none made the list to give a speech so I set out to write one anyway.

So here is what my speech would sound like if they had let give one.

Ahem!

I did borrow this opening line from Marc Anthony.

“Friends, relatives, natives lend me your ears,” for the next few minutes.

As I stand here looking back at the last four years I wonder where did it all go and where am I going?

I want to give thanks to my parents, coaches, and teachers.

Firstly, to my parents who agreed to send me off to a boarding school.

Namely Sequoyah High School.

Sequoyah promised mom and dad that I would get three square meals a day.  This is the place where I learned that the Mess Hall cooks fixed gourmet meals. Once I tasted cooked liver smothered in onions and gravy I was hooked!

No longer was I satisfied with just Squirrel, or Rabbit, covered with gravy. Asparagus, took the place of Wild onions and eggs likewise Broccoli replaced Polk salad and eggs.

I must say though mom could still outcook these chefs! There was no one who would cook commodities like her. Nor use as much lard i.e. grease.

To my coaches who hollered at me to do better but never once cussed or cursed me out. Some like coach Sanders just shook their head and wondered how? How did I ever make it on his football or basketball teams. He was very patient and put up with me for at least three years.

To my cross-country coach Sumner, who coached and trained me to run like the wind. Even though it was a mighty slow wind.

To my teachers, a couple of them who flunked me. They never realized that a genius happened to grace their classroom.

To my woodshop teacher who gave me a passing grade. Regardless of the fact, that the only project I made was gluing two blocks of wood together.  While others made gun racks, cabinets, and old- fashioned lamp stands. I got a much-needed credit in summer school.

This allowed me to come back in the fall as a sophomore.

Finally, to Mrs. Ewing who gave me a passing grade in English. I struggled with it since it is my second language. Without her reluctantly giving me a D- I would not have graduated. I remember seeing my thesis with all the red marks and wondered why my work had bleed so bad?

To the dorm staff, like the mean one Mrs. Porter who dumped a bucket of water on me to wake me up!

To Mr. Jackson And Mr. Sarnie who pulled my mattress of my bed with me still on it. To the times they rapped me on the head with their long, heavy, flashlights again to wake me up!

To Mr. Shipp, our principal who suspended, sent me home, and kicked me out of Sequoyah all together added up to about eight times.

Who let me back into Sequoyah.  Why I do not know?

Now as gaze with bleary eyes over my fellow grads I see no native regalia. The closest any of us and me included came to a feather was finishing off a bottle of “Wild Turkey.”

A few I see are still sobering up, one has just gotten released from jail so he could graduate.

As I stand before you, I see the honor students.

I am not one.

I see the sports stars some made all-conference.

I am not one of those.

All those that know where they are going in life.

I do not!

All I know is that as I turn my gold tassel to the other side, I have graduated wearing my blue and yellow gown!

Wait!  Sequoyah colors are Maroon and Gray, right? Right!

Yes, but the guys got outvoted by the girls who wanted blue and gold!

With that I leave with no honors but this memory of the blue and gold sorta like that sausage!

Memories yes both good and bad from my time at Sequoyah Boarding School.

Tahlequah, Oklahoma U.S.A.