A Few Miles And A World Away.

The “ride” was only a few miles long, from our doorstep to the Flour Bluff branch of the public library.  There, drum circle members hosted a reception for the opening of an exhibit of art by Larry “Running Turtle” Salazar, holy man, educator and advocate.

 

Art can’t be carried away in a camera, it’s meant to be viewed first-hand, and so I haven’t tried to re-present the exhibit, here.  The photos are to try to convey the feeling of the exhibit.

 

 

This item is titled, “South Texas Javelina Dance Stick”.  The painted skull honors the spirit of the animal.  Coyote and a couple other animals were also represented on dance sticks.

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In a corner of the gallery, items made and decorated by Larry, including, a buffalo skull dedicated to, newly-canonized, Saint Kateri Tekakwitha, his walking stick, a buffalo skin bag for collecting medicinal plants, and Larry’s ceremonial shirt.

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I found the detail of the elk hide shirt is quite interesting. 
The centerpiece is a representation of St. Kateri Tekakwitha, and is an example of the beautiful beadwork executed by Larry’s missus.

 

 The tassels are made from the hair of mustangs attached to shell casings of the same caliber ammunition used by the US Army to enforce the Indian Removal Act of 1830.

 

Depicted on the buffalo hide,  the sacred colors of the four cardinal directions on the back of a turtle.  “Turtle Island” is the name the Iroquois gave to North America.  The birds represent the four directions, note: the Eagle in the north, the Condor in the south.  They are part of a prophecy that the eagle and the condor will dance together (a phenomena witnessed first-hand by many) just prior to the spiritual joining of north and south and the return of the Ancestors. 

The People will be united, the importance and power of women will be recognized and there will be a return to traditional values of respect for the earth and for each other.

After the exhibit was officially opened, the public was invited to stay for refreshments.  The practice of smudging with smoke from sage was explained and visitors were invited to participate.

A demonstration of drumming and Native song rounded out the event.  A final prayer was offered, each person sitting in the drum circle putting his left hand on the drumhead, those outside the circle touching the shoulders of the drummers so that they, too, were connected.

In all, another great afternoon in Paradise.
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Link to Shaftdrive

Out of the Blue

A few years ago, my missus became part of a drum circle; it’s not your run-of-the-mill, neo-hippie rhythmic jam session, drum circle, but one oriented toward Native American tradition, one whose leader is also a well-known advocate, holy man and educator. When I say, “became part of”, I mean she’s learning Lakota and Apache songs and traditions and participates in  the group’s ceremonies and social events. Of course I have a standing invitation to any  of the group’s funtions and have attended a few, including her Naming Ceremony.

My wife is the first person without Native ancestry  to receive a tribal name from the aforementioned leader.
I had a Cherokee granny but, as far as I know,  she lived in the  manner of any other woman in rural Appalachia. In any case, while   my wife’s enthusiasm and my contact with the people in the drum circle  awakened an interest in tradition, I haven’t been moved to trade my scooter boots for moccasins, if you catch my drift. God knows there are already enough white people who “do Native American”, as they so eloquently put it.

“…It isn’t the quantity of Cherokee blood in your veins that is important, but the quality of it…” [Principal Chief Jim Pell]

”I said all that to say all this…” [Elvis Presley]

The group decided to have a potluck dinner in a park situated  on the second-largest Indian burial ground in Texas. Being as the drum circle folks are very hospitable, not to mention, talented cooks, I accepted the little woman’s invitation to accompany her to the feast.

Understand that, despite my wife’s level of involvement, I’m a guest of the group and I tend to hang back, a little.

After food and hobnobbery, the group thinned as attendees began to drift homeward; I was invited to sit with some folks who were listening to an Apache man who had just moved to town and was introducing himself. While I was catching up to his story, he reached into his bag and began removing items he, then,  distributed as gifts. While I am aware of  the importance of gift-giving in ceremonial life,  I was caught completely off-guard when he placed a bolt of blue cotton fabric in my hands.  I was unsure of  what to do, being an outsider, and all,  but the very act seemed to confirm that I was where I was meant to be.   

Later, my missus mentioned the color’s significance and offered to make a couple of bandannas for me. I told her I’d also like a hatband for my big sombrero.
Here is what she created for me:

My big sombrero

The design is hand-sewn seed beads and depicts the colors of four sacred directions.

As of this posting, I still have my scooter boots. I’ll get back to you as things develop.

Motorcycling December

 In the City of Corpus Christi, Texas, the first Friday of the month marks, “First Friday ArtWalk”.  Artists, craftsmen and musicians show and perform along a downtown walking route that also showcases  permanent  downtown businesses. This year was also the “2nd Annual Rolling Art Show” exhibit at House of Rock, a popular concert venue.  My squeeze and I decided to give it a look.

One of the things we appreciated about the exhibit was the variety of motorcycles; we stubbornly cling to the belief that there is more to this motorcycling world than v-twin engines and fat rear tires. 

The limited space of the bar did not make for easy photography but my trusty sidekick did a bang-up job.  I may have to double her pay.

This ’72 Honda 750-4 has been “cafe’d” by a popular local musician. Got to love them bulletproof engines.

There was more than one legend on the place, too.

Some legends are still in the making.  This is the first vertical twin Indian I’ve seen.

The exhibit was well worth going  OTB (over the bridge).  There were a number of slick Harleys, a show room-new-looking 1980 KZ1000 and some vintage daily riders and other customs. As always, we were pleased go encounter like-minded friends and neighbors.

We toured the ArtWalk then headed back to the barn to prepare for another day in paradise.

Saturday dawned gray and damp, a perfect day to join some locals for a ride over to Beeville, Texas to participate in the local toy drive and fund raiser.  HQ for the ride was a bar called B.O.B.W.E, well known to the other riders, a new experience, for me.   That lucky Flour Bluff woman had a previous engagement so there is not much in the way of photo documentation. 

We were led on a ride out in the country,  like a poker run without the poker, then back to Beeville where we picked up a police escort for a parade through town and back to our starting point.

One of the places we visited is way off the beaten track.  The owner joked that the place is “invitation only”. This view is of the busy end of the street:

One of the participants, new to the area, was aboard this personalized Valkyrie. The man was a hoot; you really do meet the nicest, strangest people on a Honda.

Back at B.O.B.W.E, I enjoyed a light lunch and fellowship.  Since I was one of those who didn’t want to make a night of it, and I don’t have a built-in compass, I followed a few of the US Military Vets MC out of Beeville and shadowed them back to Corpus town.

Sunday, ante meridian, the luckiest woman in Flour Bluff swung her leg over the big yella bike’s coochie couch and we made our way to the Texas A&M at Corpus Christi campus, staging area for the Toys for Tots parade along the bay front.  There was a bit more organization, this year, the clubs being lined up first, then the non-affiliated.

It looked to me like a pretty good turnout with cool temperatures and overcast sky.

The “Toys For Tots” event is also old home week, for my missus and me.

Old home week

Since we were already lined up in the parking lot, the start of the parade was not the usual bottleneck/cluster hug seen in previous years. With CCPD controlling the intersections, we rolled along Corpus Christi Bay on one-of-a-kind Ocean Drive.

Then, back into the old concrete plant-cum-concert venue.

It’s always good to see  youngsters immersed in the culture.

We parked near the entrance and walk to the gate where Marines collected the toys we brought and sold us tickets for the barbecue.

No shortage of parking, here.

No shortage of participants, either.

Time for us to  go,  bikes thinned out but there are still  die-hards 

Good time had, good deed done, we retraced our route back to big Bluff.

Good Yule, y’all.

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