By Ricey Wild
Life can turn on a dime and nothing is ever the same again. Such happened to me recently and I’m a total mess. I’m so very sad and mad that it all went down and now I’m left alone with my own miserable self with the ‘woulda coulda shouda’ swirling in my heart and head. When this happens I turn to YouTube and watch animal videos, especially cats, to distract myself from my sorrow. When that doesnt work, I reach into my memories of events and people that made me laugh. I will share some of those stories with yooz.
My beloved Gramma Rose passed on over five years ago now, at the age of 100 years and nine months. I still talk to her daily and am blessed to have her in my life. Rose was a lively little lady and kept all her faculties until the end. She loved to tell stories, even on herself so here we go:
I was visiting Gramma at her little house where she would greet me with, “Welcome to Elizabeth Taylor’s house!” and ask for money to tour it. One time her voice got low and she told me she thought that Pa, her husband, had thrown her away in the dump. She began hollering for Pa to save her and he did. Gramma had fallen into her closet during the night. Once I fell into my closet but thankfully it was a soft landing.
Another time I picked her up after my job and we went to a local Bar & Grill for Happy Hour. She liked to get out of the house now and then. We sat at the bar and I was painting my nails when Gram asked me to paint one of hers. I asked ‘which one?’ and she said any one so I chose the nail closest to me. Rose knew the bartender that day because she used to be a pull-tab worker so she called to him, “Dave! Hey Dave! Look!” and smiled just big. Dave looked at her in confusion because she was waving the ahem, ‘bird finger at him. I gently lowered her hand and any time I brought it up she would get mad at me.
Once Gramma and Grampa were at a tavern on Rezberry, long since gone. Rose and her friend began to fight about whose kids were worse, and Pa told her he could only see gray underpants as they tussled on the floor. Gramma would puff her chest out just proud of winning the scrap. That is who I come from. Her blood runs in my veins and I’m so very grateful for that.
Another relative now. My sister had a big shin-dig for her son’s high school graduation. A lot of people showed up and were inside and out through the screen door on the lower floor. My sister told everyone very loudly to not break it. She did that all day and night. When it was really late but still dark out there were only a few people left, like seven of us or so.
There was a brief silence when all of a sudden my sister busted out from inside holding the screen door in front of her like a shield at a gallop. (I just about peed myself remembering this). I laughed so hard I almost lost my breath. Karma? Is that you?
When it got light out my snag and I lay down in an unoccupied tent. We just got comfortable when a man opened it up. It was his tent. Later on I told my sister that a ‘strange Indian’ had run us out of there. Aren’t we all strange in some way?
As an Indigenous brown woman I am beyond excited and thrilled that our next POTUS is also brown too and an accomplished woman in her own right. There is no comparison to her and ole peestain, none. VP Harris is fresh air to all the moldy old pink men in power with their despotic designs. Vote. And moi? Writing this out helped me feel better but it still ain’t easy! As an Indigenous woman I was born with trauma and live in a world where we were not supposed to have survived. I talked to an Indigenous woman advocate on a helpline and she said words that helped my broken heart, enough to live another day. If you take nothing else from this column, know that you are worthy and loved. Peace out, Love n Hugs!
