Bird Droppings August 17, 2012

I am always seeking something?

 

Each day as I sit down I wonder what will transpire as I begin to think about what I will write about today. There is a seeking, a yearning to find and to answer questions of my own and others. On an occasion, sometimes, in other times my ideas get lost in the cyber world as I drift from thought to thought reading and wondering. Daily we all should be seeking, looking and observing around each corner. It has been a few years since my sons have seen the newest movie version of Orwell’s “The War of the World’s”; and with my grass two feet high from the rain nearly every day maybe a giant space alien robot machine will pop up in my yard today and save me from weed eating after school. It has been a few night’s as we debated which movie was best my youngest son is saying the latest Transformer movie is the greatest movie of all time and of course this is coming from a kid who knows every character and my oldest son saying the newest Avengers is far superior.

 

“I was born on the prairies where the wind blew free and there was nothing to break the light of the sun. I was born where there were no enclosures.” Geronimo, Goyathlay (one who yawns)

 

It was the later 1880’s when Geronimo was finally placed on a reservation surrendering to General Miles after being one of the most pursued of all renegades. I have always been amused by his name “one who yawns”. It was not until Mexican soldiers scrambling in fear yelling aloud to St. Jerome for mercy when under attack that somehow the name Geronimo came up, a name which became so feared that even when as an old man in 1905 President Teddy Roosevelt still refused him the opportunity to go back to his sacred mountains in New Mexico to die.

It has been a few years that during one of my trips to Lawton Oklahoma I traveled to Fort Sill and drove to the back side of the fort where along the river surrounded by cottonwood trees is the Indian grave yard. Many are simply numbers on small rock markers 186 or 234, some are more elaborate, cousin of Geronimo, Geronimo’s second cousin. Many do bear the name and dates of the occupant but only one stands tall, a pyramid of river rocks all nearly round stones erected into a four sided pyramid and atop the stones an eagle spreads its wings.

 Local legend has it the first eagle was gold foil covered and was stolen soon after Geronimo was laid to rest. There is of course the legend of his skull that was stolen as well which was later returned by some irresponsible Ivy League students, on a side note a former president was supposedly involved in that one. I will say standing in that place alone can be very unnerving. Beyond the cemetery away from the river rises a grassy bluff and literally you can see nothing past the cottonwoods behind you and the bluff ahead. I have always felt at ease when I go to this spot, even the wind whistling and its sounds that give rise to a vivid imagination it could be the whispers that draw me there.

I am always seeking something as I journey perhaps an answer to one of my own mysteries of life. Perhaps just to see what is beyond the trees or the grassy bluff. On one trip I by chance I had my children with me and not to be imposing on them I had promised some other more exciting stops we only stayed five minutes sort of see the grave and leave. I explained the feeling I got every time I came there and as we headed to leave a fog rose off the river. I proceeded cautiously back into FortSill. The road was barely visible as we directed our way towards the main area. From the mists covering the road and in that area, out came a group of men on horseback riding two abreast. These men were cavalry men looking as if to find Geronimo.

My kids sat in awe watching fifty or so cavalry men ride by.  “Dad are they real or part of your story” my youngest asked me. I was in shock as much as my kids, wondering as we watched them and not a smile or a look from the cavalry as they rode by. I only wished I could claim as part of my story. I think they knew where we had been I started and my kids were in awe. Later at the PlainsMuseum in Lawton we were told to go see the reenactment at FortSill. They were firing old cannons and such. We decided we had seen enough of the old cavalry for one day and went back to the hotel room after watching the prairie dog town for an hour or so. Please keep all in harm’s way on your mind and in your hearts and always give thanks namaste.

 

Wa de (Skee)

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