I recently lost a good friend, an American Indian elder. He gave me a great gift, the gift of the deepest kind of friendship one could have bestowed upon another.
Over the years, he unselfishly welcomed my family into his cultural and spiritual world. He cared deeply about my two sons, always welcoming them. Later in life, as time separated us all around the globe and we would call each other on the phone, he would always ask about their well being.
I remember my friend as being cheerful. Life wasn’t easy for him, yet he always seemed to find a way to make light of the silly experiences of life. One time, when we were visiting him in the hospital for a tooth extraction, he told of his aunt who had had a hip replacement with plastic parts. He told us that she had gotten too close to a wall radiator heater and the hip replacement melted. With his dry sense of humor, the mother of my children completely fell for the story, and stepped away from the wall radiator heater.
Another time, my friend was giving a traditional meal for a group that I had asked him to teach about traditional ways. The food was delicious. I remember an Extension agent going up and congratulating him about the wonderful meal. The agent asked what was the delicious meat and how was it prepared. My friend, in his dry sense of humor, said it was elk that had been “road kill,” picked up from the side of the highway. The look of horror, and hope, on the Extension agent’s face, wanting to believe this wasn’t true, was worth a life time of experiences.
He paid me a great respect when I parted my employment with a tribe that had given me the confidence that societies can be better than the lowest common denominator. He MCed the ceremony paid to my honor in his spiritual center, the longhouse.
Years later, when his wife of many years passed, he asked me to speak for the men when we were beside her grave during her memorial. At the Salmon Feast at Celilo Falls, again he asked me to speak to the people. And following his recent wedding at a longhouse, he again asked me to speak to the guests who were assembled to honor his great day.
These were great honors that he paid to me. He had an unrelenting sense of trust and respect for me. I understand that gift and am humbled by this demonstration of connection.
My friend had a dream, which involved me. He saw the work that had happened at the tribe where I worked earlier in life that had achieved such great accomplishments for humanity. His dream was for me to share this gift with his people, at his Nation.
It was in the pursuit of honoring that dream that I called and learned of his passing in September. I was not able to attend the ceremonies for his passing. I was able to find his gravesite in the mountains of his childhood and pay homage. I left the gift of my leather African keychain on his grave. He once gave me a similar American Indian keychain.
I miss my friend this morning. I deeply feel the loss of a true human being. You see, my friend was as Indian as Indian could be. I am of mixed European heritage. And yet, this man always treated me as a human being, with the deepest respect and love.
My friend has this dream of the way life could be different. My hope and desire is that after this year of mourning, I am able to honor his dream of making a difference.
In honor of a great man…
