Product of My Raising

I was born in Native America, where the buffalo roam and country singers are manufactured.  Oklahoma is an area that isn’t too easy to classify since it seems to sit in the middle of the country or limbo.  No one really knows whether to refer to Oklahoma a southern or mid-western state.  That age old question is right up there with the chicken and the egg.  Whatever you may believe, I know that I was raised with a Southern state of mind with some minor Native American influences. 

I wasn’t raised with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I definitely didn’t want for nothing.  We lived in a house without wheels and always had shiny, new toys to destroy.  My brother and I were wild kids who spent entire summer days outside selling watered-down lemonade, wearing out our bike tires, and collecting bugs to top the mud pie we made especially for our mean neighbor.   Although we never had the guts to serve that mean old lady mud pie, we were fearless children who learned many lessons the hard way and had the boo-boos and scrapped knees to prove it.

Unlike most Southern households, religion did not play a huge role in our lives.  We knew about God and believed in Him.  Like any other snot-nose kid we knew the words to ‘Jesus loves me’ and ‘He’s got the whole world in His hands’.  We said our prayers at night and when I was alone I had conversations with my deceased grandfather.  We may not have understood what people meant when they spoke about the wrath of God, but we were well aware of the wrath of our own father or the scorn of our mother when we did something terribly wrong.   We learned to be seen and not heard.  We were taught to say ma’am and sir to every person who looked old enough to drive a car.  We smiled politely and always said thank you.  In other words, my parents taught us how to be respectful, polite little humans.

Today, I still use ma’am and sir when answering or speaking to anyone.  I open doors for others.  I offer a helping hand, because it is the right thing to do, not because I expect something in return.

The Native American influences come from neighbors, friends, and the Union School system.  Schools in Oklahoma teach students more about Indian tribes than anything else.  And why shouldn’t they when Oklahoma has approximately 19 different Indian tribes .  As always, the school sticks strictly to the boooooring facts and dates—you know textbook stuff.  Needless to say, most of that information is gone with the wind, but that doesn’t matter.  I learned the essentials from my Native American friend Summer.  Summer and her older sister lived around the corner from me in a small reddish house.  The sisters had light copper skin, and dark, straight locks that Summer usually wore back in a long braid.  Summer’s father was a large man who I at the time swore must have starred as the Chief in Peter Pan.  He wore his hair the same way as Summer, in a long braid down his back, and always had boots on his enormous feet.  He was a stern man with few words, but taught his daughters many lessons about the land.  Summer taught me those lessons on long summer days when it was too hot to do anything but lay under a shade tree.  She taught me how to catch bees without getting stung, and how to listen to the ground for footsteps.   The most valuable lesson Summer taught me was about respecting and loving the Earth.  I remember walking the neighborhood with Summer and  picking up trash out of ditches and yards.  She would get so upset about the scattered trash that you would have thought her puppy ran away. As a six-year old I did not completely understand how she felt, but today that memory is one I cherish. The love Summer displayed for the Earth has never left me.  Her passion for sunshine, nature, and animals is something I know I will carry forever in my heart.

So even though I am still trying to figure out who I am, I can say with confidence that I am a product of my raising.