{"id":1316,"date":"2022-10-02T14:22:03","date_gmt":"2022-10-02T19:22:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/shareletter.milwaukeequakers.org\/?p=1316"},"modified":"2022-10-02T14:22:03","modified_gmt":"2022-10-02T19:22:03","slug":"grandmothers-revelation-%e2%94%82chapter-125","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/shareletter.milwaukeequakers.org\/?p=1316","title":{"rendered":"Grandmother’s Revelation \u2502Chapter 125"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Excerpt from a book written by Glen Copper<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Recap<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Scott and Willie are thirteen-year-old runaways who have been hiding out in a cabin in the Black River Forrest hidden between several rock pinnacles that belong to Scott\u2019s great uncle. They have been waiting for him to show up there and while waiting discovered the skeletons of a long dead Native American and a cougar in a cave. They carefully collected their bones and solemnly interred them in graves on a ridge between the pinnacles. They have retained a flint knife and flute found with the skeletons.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            After months of waiting alone for his uncle, Willie, who is six months pregnant by her step-father suffers complications of the pregnancy and Scott borrows his uncles old car to take Willie to a hospital but they are lost in a blizzard and drive the car into a ravine. Nearly frozen to death they are discovered by Conrad, a Ho Chunk lad who brings them unconscious to a medicine woman to whom he is apprenticed and lives on a cave near their hide out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Several days later<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

            The next morning Conrad woke Willie and me with another bowl of soup. They had returned from their collecting mission and Grandmother decided to just let us sleep through the night. She called on Conrad now to help her unfold a leather parcel on the sand floor near the entrance to the cave. It contained a tawny cottony mass the size of a football freckled with red and orange berries among a floss of thistle down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            She looked at me and motioned with her head for me to come. I got up and crouched next to Conrad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cThe bleeding inside, needs to be stopped,\u201d Grandmother whispered, nodding toward Willie, \u201cor it could …\u201d she raised her hands as if to say, \u201cYou know the rest.\u201d<\/em> \u201cThe medicine we are looking for can stop the bleeding, but… \u201d She stopped and glanced at me, then at Conrad. \u201cYounger eyes… we need your young eyes,\u201d Grandmother said, pointing at Conrad and me. \u201cMother Mouse collects Shepherd\u2019s purse, little seed pods for us. They are here in this fluff. They\u2019re shaped like this.\u201d She drew a heart-shape in the sand, \u201cAnd they\u2019re brown, the size of…\u201d she took hold of my hand and held up my pinky finger, \u201chalf the size of this fingernail.\u201d She indicated about a three-eighths inch length of my nail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cInside are tiny orange seeds like grains of red sand. Some pods may have opened, so look for loose red sand grains too. Everything else we will sort later. These we need now. Come to me when you have sixteen red seeds.\u201d She took from her pouch a folded piece of tin foil gum wrapper and unfolded it. \u201cPut them in here,\u201d she instructed, and handed it to Conrad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            She then took a birch-bark torch and lit it from the fire, picked up her long otter-skin pouch, and walked toward the chamber where I had been sleeping. She did not need to duck-waddle to the cavern, just bending a little at the waist with the torch before her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cDid she take the shepherd\u2019s purse with her?\u201d Willie asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cNo,\u201d Conrad explained. \u201cThat\u2019s her medicine bag. Shepherd\u2019s purse is the name of the plant that the little red seeds come from.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            It didn\u2019t take me long to find three heart-shaped pods. When I picked up the third one, its two halves came apart and spilled a dozen seeds onto the deerskin. The other two contained sixteen and twenty, which we collected and folded up in the tinfoil.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cHere,\u201d Conrad said, handing me the little package. \u201cYou take them to her and I\u2019ll continue sorting through all this stuff.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cBut… ,\u201d I objected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cI know much of what the rest of this is; I have been learning, sorting since last spring. Besides… it\u2019s YOU she wants to talk to… Alone. She told me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I took the folded tinfoil packet and duck-walked back to the second chamber where I saw Grandmother slowly circumnavigating a stone pillar further back in the chamber than the light had extended before. She was chanting some barely audible words as she circled the column. There were four oil lamps placed equidistant around the column, and her circuit was inside the square defined by the lamps. She didn\u2019t seem to notice my entrance to the chamber and I didn\u2019t announce myself, but sat on a block of sandstone and watched. It reminded me of Father Mullen circling the sacristy as he prepared to say Mass. One dared not interrupt, even if you had finished your own Orationes Ante Missam.<\/em> <\/em>It was a prayer to prepare you for the solemnity of The Mass you were about to take part in. Most of us altar boys finished it way ahead of Father Mullen. I always figured the priest probably had a much longer prayer that they would teach us at seminary. But then, we occasionally had visiting priests who could finish faster than us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            She made several more circuits, and stopped walking. She nodded her head and spoke softly looking directly at the pillar as if she were assenting to a companion with whom she\u2019d just concluded a conversation. Then she turned toward me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cYou have the seeds?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I nodded, and stood holding up the foil package. She took it from me then handed it back. \u201cHere, you hold.\u201d And then she slowly turned and sat on the rock next to where I had just been seated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cSit, please,\u201d she invited. \u201cWe\u2019ll talk.\u201d
            I sat.
            \u201cYou and… your friend… you in trouble?\u201d I looked away toward the pillar.             \u201cTrouble?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cSometimes, people who stay at Mae West, come there to be… invisible?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I frowned, pretending ignorance, though recognizing the name Mae West as what Shadow had called the hideout.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cMae West? Umm… ,\u201d I hesitated, trying to think of an honest answer that would not compromise Ode\u2019s secret hideout or Willie\u2019s secret, either.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cMr. Rankin\u2019s place?\u201d she added. \u201cFred and Comes-with-Thunder said they found you with Mr. Rankin\u2019s car.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cYou know my uncle?\u201d I asked, trying to change the subject.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cYour uncle? Hmm.\u201d
            \u201cGreat great-uncle, actually my grandmother\u2019s uncle.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cWe are friends a long time, Mr. Rankin and me. Good… old… friends,\u201d she said with a relaxed smile. \u201cSo, you and Willie… you have come there to be invisible?\u201d
            I understood her to mean by invisible, \u201chiding out,\u201d and nodded.
            \u201cIs someone trying to hurt you?\u201d She got right to the point.
            \u201cI don\u2019t know… maybe… . We were shot at once, but… I don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cSo, your uncle, he sent you to Mae West?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I shook my head. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t know that we were there. I lived with him in Chicago, but he went away to Arkansas, but… I thought he was supposed to come here… to…? Mae West? Willie.. er… we… needed his help.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cAh… I see,\u201d she said reaching into a pocket on her skirt and pulling out a picture postcard. \u201cHe was to come, but had a change of plans. This postal card came from Arkansas.\u201d She handed it to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            In bold script above a drawing of an old man asleep with his feet up on a disorderly desk was written, \u201cSilence! Genius at work\u2013Hot Springs, Arkansas\u201d. On the back, in a handwritten script\u2013not Ode\u2019s\u2013it read: \u201cCancel Mae West: stroke.\u201d There was no signature. It was addressed to Mae West, General Delivery, Black River Falls, Wisconsin; and postmarked Nov. 11, 1962.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cThat\u2019s not his writing,\u201d I observed. But I was excited… she had news of Uncle Ode! \u201cYou heard from him? Do you know how to get in touch with him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            She nodded, \u201cI know. Probably someone had to write it for him, I think. He has friends there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cStroke?\u201d I asked.
            \u201cI don\u2019t know… yet… . Do you know what a stroke is?\u201d
            \u201cNot exactly… . But Sister Mary-Alice had one… and… and… she… died!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cNot always fatal… strokes. Someone would tell me… if it was.\u201d
            \u201cOh,\u201d I sighed. \u201cDo you know… ?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cThis is all I know for sure. No news since this,\u201d she said, referring to the post card. \u201cNow that the storm and the holidays have passed, Grandson will go to the post office again… maybe there will be new instructions. You\u2019ve been at Mae West for a while,\u201d she said, matter-of-factly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cFrom the post card,\u201d she said \u201cI understood I would not be… needed… there. So Fred and Cora and I didn\u2019t go. Then you arrived. Other times, Mr. Rankin has said, \u2018In some cases, it is better not to know things.\u2019 So we let you be invisible.\u201d She added, \u201cBut, I DO know SOME things, anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cSo… you knew we were there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cHard to miss: chimney smoke, generators, lights, waving at jets.\u201d She paused and looked directly into my eyes. \u201cNew graves on the ridge… .\u201d Then, from her medicine pouch, she pulled out Red Bird\u2019s flint knife. I looked at the knife and then to her face. Her face did not frown and speak the \u201cI gotcha\u201d I expected. Instead, her eyes were wide with a hopeful anticipation, looking for an answer like a child gazing at wrapped presents under a tree. I thought she might be suggesting we had killed the man we buried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cW-w-we… we… . I mean… the man we buried… it was his knife. But w-w-we … didn\u2019t k-k-k-ill him,\u201d I stammered. \u201cW-w-we just found him… his skeleton, I mean. We just thought… I mean, Willie just thought… we couldn\u2019t just leave him there… he should have a d-d-d-decent b-b-b- burial…\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cYou FOUND… him?\u201d she looked at me incredulously.
            \u201cThe skeleton\u2013we buried\u2013it was his knife. At least that\u2019s what we figured… .\u201d
            The creases between her brows turned into deep crevices as she looked down at the knife. \u201cAt Mae West?\u201d she asked.
            \u201cBy it. In a cave… in the rocks… at the top of that highest of the hills… where you saw me wave at the jets,\u201d I said. The other wrinkles around her eyes and mouth started to move open and closed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cHe also had a flute and bag of jewelry, too. We put them all in a box and interred them with him, but I… er we forgot to put the knife and the flute back. But…\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Then she laid the knife into her lap and covered her face with her hands. Her breathing stopped for a long minute before her shoulders collapsed with a great sigh, followed by several deep breaths and exhalations, as if she were about to cry… but didn\u2019t. Slowly her breathing became regular again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cWe think he had been dead since ancient times,\u201d I said. \u201cThe flint knife\u2013Willie said it was probably neolithic… . She knows about that,\u201d Grandmother stopped me, raising her right palm toward me, \u201cstuff,\u201d I finished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cI KNOW this knife… I KNOW… you did not kill… the man you buried. I… I think… it was ME… killed this man. My willfulness killed this man. This knife… ,\u201d she placed it in the palm of her hand to show it to me, \u201cit was part of a war-bundle from my mother\u2019s clan\u2013a very sacred relic. You know what I mean\u2013relic?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, we have those, too,\u201d I said. \u201cYou see this… this knife didn\u2019t kill HIM\u2013it SAVED him from a big cat\u2013a cougar, maybe… .\u201d I told her the whole story of Willie jumping in the cave and not being able to get out, and finding the man\u2019s skeleton with two broken legs and the knife in the skeleton of the cat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cWe figured he died of starvation,\u201d I continued, \u201cor blood loss… stuck in the cave with no way out… as WE would have been… if… I\u2019d have jumped in too. We couldn\u2019t just leave him there though.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            As she listened to my story her torso began to rock back and forth very slightly. By the time I had finished she was swaying like an old nun praying the Rosary, bending and nodding with each bead. Then it struck me that she said she thought SHE had killed him… . She seemed now even more distraught. I remembered my mother with the scissors in her hand. But this time rather than running away I decided to stay with her. I reached over and touched her shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cSo, really, \u201d I said, \u201c it was just an accident of fate… that this knife… was… . I mean… was he part of your family? The knife couldn\u2019t have killed HIM it was stuck in the cat\u2019s sixth cervical vertebra. I\u2019m sorry if I…\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            She raised her hand again, which I took to mean \u201cStop,\u201d so I did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cIt\u2019s finished, then,\u201d she said, not looking at me, but to someone standing beside her. Her eyes were misty, and then she looked away, bowing her head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I sat silently for several minutes waiting for her to explain what was finished, but she said nothing while her eyes followed something into the dark empty corners of the cavern. I noticed no change, the trickle of the water continued, the four lamps were still burning with an occasional spit or pop; and nothing moved except the shadows from the lamps. The dark spaces remained dark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cWh-what\u2019s finished?\u201d I finally asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cOh! I\u2019m sorry, son. I forgot you were here,\u201d she said, reaching out to touch my hand. \u201cI\u2019m afraid I was somewhere else; visiting another time… MY story,\u201d she said with a long relieved sigh and a smile. \u201cYou\u2019ve allowed me to know the end of my story.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Coming from such an old person that phrase sounded ominous, yet her face spoke of joy and hope.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cStory?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cI\u2019ve been waiting here… eighty…? Ah… yes… most of eighty years… to know the end of that story… . So don\u2019t be sorry… be happy,\u201d she said, as if convincing herself, too.          \u201cThis is a great gift you have given me\u2013to help me write the end of my story.\u201d She looked longingly at the knife and touched the runes on its grip. \u201cThis is a much better ending.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cEnding?\u201d I inquired.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cHappened long time passed. Will take some dreaming for this old relic… and this one, too,\u201d she said pointing to her head, \u201cto gather loose ends together. We will tell stories later. First, more important medicine must be made.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

          The next day Conrad and I walked to Black River to see if there was new mail about my Uncle.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Excerpt from a book written by Glen Copper<\/p>\n

Photo by Mike Soika<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":1297,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[99],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1316","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-september-2022"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/shareletter.milwaukeequakers.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1316","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/shareletter.milwaukeequakers.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/shareletter.milwaukeequakers.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shareletter.milwaukeequakers.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/5"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shareletter.milwaukeequakers.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1316"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/shareletter.milwaukeequakers.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1316\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1317,"href":"https:\/\/shareletter.milwaukeequakers.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1316\/revisions\/1317"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shareletter.milwaukeequakers.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1297"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/shareletter.milwaukeequakers.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1316"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shareletter.milwaukeequakers.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1316"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shareletter.milwaukeequakers.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1316"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}