Pow Wow

In every dream I can smell the Sweetgrass burning
And in my heart I can hear the drum
and hear the singers soaring
and see the jingle dancers
and still this love goes on and on
Still this love goes on.

Still This Love Goes On - Buffy St. Marie

That's the song I listen to during the coldest days of winter, thinking about the hot days of the Oneida Pow-wow, imagining the pounding drum, the wild voices singing, and the jingle dancers.

Today, Gary and I went to the pow wow, to watch the grand entrance at 1:00 p.m.  But first we had to go to the Bear Clan stand and have an Indian taco, made with taco meat, lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese over fry bread.

It's the kind of thing that could give us a heart attack, so we only have Indian tacos once a year, at pow wow, and we split the one in the photo.  

When we heard the drums starting, we were ready.  Instead of finding a spot on the bleachers or sit on the bluff looking down on the parade grounds, we stand beside the drums and singers and let the sound wash over us with a power we can feel in every part of our bodies.  It is rock music multiplied. 

Then the dancers come into the grounds.  The first in are the color guard made up of veterans of every war from WWII through Vietnam and Iraq.   

The Oneida have a warrior society and are proud of their soldiers.  After the Vietnam Conflict, many segments of society were terrible in their treatment of the veterans.  Not so, the Oneida who welcomed them back into the community with honors.  Every pow wow includes a ceremony honoring the men and women who have served the United States in every branch of the services.  

Dancers, male and female, come from all over the United States and sometimes beyond, in colorful traditional costumes.  Eagle feathers are very important to the tribe, so when one was found laying on the grounds, two boys brought it to the chairman of the event so the owner could be found.  I've found them in the national forest, dropped by the eagles, and am told I am not to pick them up but to notify the rangers immediately.  The feathers are carefully saved and turned over to members of the tribes who are on a long, long waiting list. 

I particularly like the jingle dancers, women with bells sewn to their dresses who twirl to make a joyful noise. 

And yes, as we walked around, we could smell the sweet grass burning.  

We finally left but when I got home there was a phone call. I had won a drawing at the art show. I drove the six miles back and picked up a bag full of this and that, coupons at the casino, a penny bank, an electronic meat thermometer, an insulated drinking cup, and so on.  

As long as I was back on the grounds, I picked up something Gary forgot to buy, a bundle of white sage.   Its used to drive evil out of a home, while sweet grass welcomes good spirits in. Gary was almost out of sage and was keeping evil spirits at bay with just a stub.  I guess we're safe now. 

                                                               ************

Yesterday I posted the last of the "Love through the Decades" short story series at Black Coffee Fiction http://blackcoffeefiction.blogspot.com  This brings the story of Sheila to an end, though I may go back to the Forties and Fifties to revisit her earlier life.  I am looking for comments and criticism because I am thinking of putting the collection into an e-book by October.