"Once," she said, sitting there by the fire face lit and glowing softly, care worn and lovely.

“When our People gathered, it was with great joy, seeing one another sometimes only once a year.” "The first few days," she said laughing slightly, “were filled with much noise and confusion.”

Speaking quickly, trying to catch up all the news, hurrying around, finding room for each family for sleeping.

Cooking so many different things, feeding all who were hungry the smells, made ones mouth water with wanting.

Oh, a few quarrels maybe, old grudges being settled but mostly happy, smiling, touching gently new babies.

In a couple days, it would be time for dancing, singing, telling ancient stories to the young ones.

Good times those were, bringing out the best Regalia honoring our ancestors, remembering why we do these things.

Trading, oh, my, the trading was maybe the best thing; my own heart would swell with love, just watching her face change.

"Child," she would whisper, "the loves that were found then," and she would giggle. "Yes, my own as well, your grandfather."

Such a handsome warrior he was, striding proudly, all the women sighing and I still swear, I could see her as she was in that long ago, swooning girl.

How I loved those stories, listening as she explained that the "powwows" of today, had little to do with "Gather".

She, would not go, nor grandfather, to these 'fancy prancings' as she called them, this "showing off" for outsiders.

How could these others understand what the dancers were saying, the stories they were enacting, the great battles, hunts, or celebrations?

Only once did she go, coming home with her face burning, shamed by the way the outsiders mocked and aped what they thought they saw.

Never one to be unkind, she stayed silent; it hurt her deeply to see and hear what they were doing and saying.

Shaking her head, she, peered through the flames at me - they thought they were showing us "honor", by joining the dancers?

Touching the Drums, and drummers, and I could feel the outrage though she tried not to show it, tried to be understanding toward them.

For her, the Gather was the voice of her ancestors, a connection to forever:  yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

A time to teach, remind, respect, and honor all that came before and those who would come after, reaching out to family, connecting.

And those "outsiders" who "found" the spirit, claiming to see their "guides" giving them the "right", to our ways of life, for those she had nothing.

The loud, bossy ways, they decided they knew "her", ancestral ways better because she cast her eyes down when meeting, thought her, rude, unfriendly.

In truth, she was honoring their right to privacy, and they, knew no better. "Yes", she would say, once, the Gathers were such fun.

"Important, girl", she would say, times we needed to remember that our Peoples had a long history.

You listen, young one, at our next Gather, you are old enough; it is time for you to learn, but, there will also be time for laughter.

I never forgot her words, not one lesson she taught me will ever be words wasted, left to dry, and die, un-watered.

Grandmother, who walked in honor, my heart carries your smile memories, as alive today as then, so long ago, when I first heard!

granny
© Sheila Williams