Leaving Hopi Land

As we drove away from the mesas that afternoon, I scribbled down as much as I could remember.  We had learned so many things about the culture and history, but  I couldn't stop thinking about the  personal stories. I kept picturing Ernie as a Hopi child, capturing a baby eagle, planting the harvest and dancing in the festivals.  I  imagined what it must have been like to be a child taken from the home to be educated in Indian boarding schools...and the culture shock of the outside world.  There were good things that Ernie experienced in the world outside the Hopi mesas.  He had an opportunity to meet Walt Disney, he dabbled in films for a while and he gained recognition for his flute playing.  But his mother's illness called him back home, where he has been since.

Thanks, Ernie.
I'm glad you went back home so you could use your talents to share about your culture.  Since meeting you, I've tried to share your stories and thoughts with others.  Just yesterday I brought a recording of your flute music to a group I gather with each week.  I wish you could have seen the faces of these sweet folks with Alzheimer's as they smiled and listened and nodded...then  joined your music, beating softly on drums. 

It turns out he had only been making chairs for 4 years.  He'd lost his thumb working at a nearby sawmill and was no longer able to do mill work.  When we drove by the mill later I wondered if he was relieved to be done with that kind of labor.  Hopefully he was givevn some kind of compensation, because he told us he was averaging about 75 cents an hour making chairs.  That's how much I had gotten paid babysitting as a teenager.

Thanks, Dee.
If you're still around you 'd probably be nearly 100.  Hopefully you've had some good retirement years rocking in one of those chairs...softened with a cozy cushion, maybe.  I can't tell you how many times I've thought about your chairs and scolded myself.  "Why didn't I put my name on the chair list?"  I could have been rocking in one myself!

One day I ignored the signs and pulled the car over.  The two were watering flowers and seemed a bit startled when I walked up.  I'm not really sure what I said.  Some quick babble about how I drive by their yard every week and just wanted them to know how much I love seeing all their wonderful flowers.  I was so afraid my words sounded corny and insincere, but their looks of concern were replaced by huge smiles. 

My "teaching job" at a California  preschool is one of the most challenging jobs I have ever had.  My assistant  Fiona and I found many ways to wear the children out to make sure they slept at  naptime.  A good long walk in the morning with the guidance of a long knotted  rope could do the trick.  Or better yet, a trip to Turtle Rock Park!

We let the kids race up and down the hill and pick wildflower weeds.  We gave them a good picnic lunch and sat the 16 kids on the hill to wait for the preschool van.

We waited for an hour, but it never came.  Fiona and I told stories and sang songs, but the kids were no longer amused.  Two-year olds who have been properly worn out for naps don't all sit and doze. They were getting second winds and wouldn't be cooperating much longer.  I raced off in search of a payphone, only to realize I had no dime.  I found someone to loan a dime, but (as was often the case back before cell phones) the pay phone was broken.

 I glanced across the parking lot and noticed a  policeman who had just pulled over a Volkswagen bug.  I waited for him to finish  his business and confronted him about our problem.  After I promised him I  wouldn't make him tote 16 two-year olds in his squad car, he offered to take me  to the school for help.

Where'd they go?

I rode in the police car to the school, only to discover the van driver had just left for the park.  "Would you like me to take you back to the park?" The  policeman asked.   As we cruised towards the park, I pictured poor Fiona trying to coral 16 cranky, nap craving  tots.  But when we arrived at the park, Fiona and the little  guys had already been picked up.  "Would you like me to take you back to  school?"  The policeman laughed. "Or would you like to come fill out an  application for the police force?  If you're going to drive around with me all  day, you might as well get paid."

So thank you, patient Policeman!  You were kind to transport me back and forth and you were also kind not to lecture me about how I handled the situation.  I thought I was a responsible, quick thinking caregiver at age 23, but I cringe at how I left dear Fiona with 16 children!  In fact now that I think about it, things would have worked out much better if I had never spotted you.  But it would have been a much duller story. 

I had my own turn to hold Daisy while Al told me the story of adopting her from a  shelter, eight years ago. "The family who owned her had kids who liked to bang on her cage with a broom."  His big grin returned when he described Daisy's favorite adventures which of course included sailing.  He insisted he has never had to worry about her flying away.

Thanks Al!  You helped me have fun imagining what it would be like to travel with a tiny companion.  You are quite a bit cooler than some of the guys you see on Harleys with stuffed bears on the back!   But mostly, it's always nice to hear about an animal being given a better life.  Sounds like you both are actually pretty lucky to have each other.