NMAI Artist Leadership Program, and Life

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

There are not many ways to describe this season in life. One of the worst summers of my life, and it ended with my dad’s passing. Then I got a phone call.

June 2012

In May, 2012, I had applied for the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian’s Artist Leadership Program. Amid the disasters of the summer, I still checked the mailbox every day in August, catching myself going out there on Sundays too. Waiting, waiting for a letter that would either accept me or a say a polite try again.

Chief Gregory Pyle and Snakes on Robuck Lake

A few years ago, after the Choctaw Labor Day festival Monday morning ceremonies, my mom, Lynda Kay, and I got to chat with Chief Pyle for a few minutes. It turned into a time of swapping stories.

Lynda Kay with Chief Pyle

When we told him our ancestors were the Robucks who had owned Robuck Lake in Grant, Oklahoma, Chief Pyle started in on a story from his youth.

He and his buddies often fished and swam in the lake. The water moccasins were aggressive there. One night, they took a boat out to fish and a handgun for protection against the snakes.

Sure enough, a water moccasin slithered right into their boat and in a panic, his friend shot off several rounds. Though it was enough to scare off the snake, the friend missed actually hitting it.

The bullets did go to some use though. They punctured enough holes in the boat to begin sinking it. The boys half paddled, half swam it—and themselves—back to shore.

One of the boys’ dads wasn’t happy with them. It was his boat that sat on the shore, full of holes.

Chief Pyle didn’t say what happened to them after that, but I imagine it topped the ordeal itself.

Why don’t you share a story from your youth with someone today?

Choctaw Dance

At the Dallas Chamber of Commerce Native American Expo (December 2011), we watched a special demonstration of traditional Choctaw dances.

The Raccoon Dance - Oklahoma State Capitol (Choctaw Nation Photo)

From powwows to on stage, I’ve seen many cultural dances of the Americas. They all have their unique flare, a story they tell.

Not to sound prejudice, but few had the qualities of traditional Choctaw dance.

As the traditionally dressed Choctaw men and women interacted in the dance, all their movements and steps could be described as sweet, innocent, fun. It was a social affair kept in the boundaries of pure enjoyment.

On the Trail Again

Choctaw Trail of Tears Commemorative Walk 2012

Lynda Kay and Sarah Elisabeth ready to walk

Ara C. "Pops" ready to see us off

On the trail. Chief Pyle was greatly missed as he was home recovering from his recent illness

The Choctaw Princesses with the Lord's Prayer

Making luksis (turtles) from clay

Basket weaving demonstrations

End of the Trail. Until next year.

Greenville High School Scholarship Powwow—Our Dance

The Grand Entry

The rain soaked ground was covered with hay that quickly became muddy itself. But nothing dampened the spirits determined to continue on with a powwow that some thought wouldn’t happen. Despite the stunning loss of the white buffalo calf, Lightning Medicine Cloud, and the overcast threatening skies, the dances went on. And on.

We arrived at Arby Little Soldier’s ranch about 4:30, and caught a courtesy hayride to the front gate. After eating a complimentary buffalo BBQ plate and shopping the vendors, we settled in for hours of powwow dancing.

There’s not so much competition dancing at this powwow as there are honor dances, and intertribal dancing. We were treated to watching the “two step,” among others.

My mom, Lynda Kay, with Arby Little Soldier

As the skies cleared and the sun went down, all were invited to come into the arena and dance a special Mother’s Day dance with or in honor of their mother. Arby’s own mother, at 94, stood with her children and grandchildren for the duration of the song.

I nudged my mama to her feet, and we stood in front of our chairs, held hands, and moved to the beat of the big drum.

Near the end, they once again invited everyone into the arena for the final fundraising dance for the college scholarship fund.

For the first time at a powwow, my mama and I moved into the arena, tossed our bills on the blanket and joined the crowd moving in beat with the big drum.

Now, I’m what I call rhythmically challenge. I tried watching others to make sure I was in beat. I tried listening to the beat, but was still a half one behind. Finally, I just felt the beat. My body fell into automatic rhythm, my heartbeat matching the heartbeat of the big drum.

It only lasted a few moments before I was distracted once again with what was going on around me. But that time of being in rhythm, being in harmony for an instant with the spirits of so many, was a God thing.

Sarah Elisabeth & Lynda Kay

In spite of the dropping temperatures and rising mud, my first outdoor powwow experience will live in my memory as a favorite.

~Sarah Elisabeth