Kinlani It was early November and the pine trees were shaggy ready for winter. The place was Kinlani, some called it Flagstaff up in Northern Arizona. The Old Man had gotten up early and shoveled the driveway to the rented home they lived in. The air was clear and frosty, the snow crunchy in the way it sounded under his feet. Let’s go to town, he said when he came in and those four kids, three boys and one little girl were dressed and out the door in a minute, pulling stocking caps over their black hair. There was Sonny, Franky and Henry, and there was Sharlene, the little one. They were just in elementary school and they scrambled out after him. He walked fast that Old Man. One time when the kids were home, their Mom was talking liked she used to do when she washed dishes, and the kids were sitting around the table. She was talking about him, their Dad, about how they got together way back when, and that now he sometimes just acted like an old man. She said it like that, he was the old man. The name stuck with him after that. He was their Old Man and he walked with them everywhere. He came from the reservation and his English wasn’t too good, he could understand it fairly well but had a hard time speaking it clearly. He talked only when he had to, so he was pretty much quiet most of the time. The place where they lived was a small apartment unit, there were three of them close together and they shared a common driveway. It was two bedroom place but they all fit in there, it was enough room cuz they lived across the street from the forest. The Old Man took them for walks every day into that the place of tall pine trees and pine needles and underbrush that covered the ground making a natural carpet. Those kids knew the forest and all the things about it. They learned to sound like blue jays, making that sound with their lips after hours of trying. The Old Man used to sit on a rock and it seemed he could talk to them and they would come to the place he was sitting. He could sound like a squirrel and the sparrows were just too easy for him. He would just sit there and show them and they would try all day long to make that simple sound. It was Cherry Street they lived on, at the end of it near the park and a stone throw away from the forest. Old Man walked ahead of them and they caught up and they walked all the way down to town, where the stores were. It was a Saturday and there was snow on the ground and they dressed warm as they sloshed through the snow. They liked to go to town with him, because he went to the stores would look at the toys there with them. His eyes would light up as they picked them up and played with the toys too. He was sort of quiet and shy and though he lived in the town, he kept pretty much to himself, just working and then taking walks with the kids. They walked by the bank, the Valley National Bank and there in the parking lot there were all these people standing around, they stopped and wondered what was going on. As they stood there one of the young men from the bank came by them and gave each of them a ticket, be here at noon he said and went the next group. Not much was happening so they left. The oldest boy, Sonny took a pencil out of his pocket and wrote Old Man’s name down and dropped the ticket in the basket as they left. They went over to the old McClellan’s store and got an ice cream cone for nickel at the lunch counter and Sprouse Reitz to look at the gold fish in the tanks. They dropped by the Candy Box, a small store next to the Orpheum Theatre and picked up sample of salt water taffy and went over to Firestone to look at the bikes. They took their time looking around and thought about Thanksgiving, and wondered if they would have a turkey, a really big one so they could fight over the drumsticks. Thanksgiving was a few days away and they were still looking for a turkey. It was between paydays and Mom forgot to get a turkey and now they were broke. It was quite a worry for the little kids wondering about Thanksgiving. There were turkey pictures everywhere they went, and pictures of pilgrims and haystacks. The kids always wondered about Thanksgiving because they were Indians. Little Sister used to wonder what Indians were like and when she would ask about what Indians were like. Her brothers would tell her she was Indian and they weren’t, they were Pilgrims and she was left there with them. She used to cry and Old Man would tell her it was all right to be Indian because he was one himself and they knew things other people didn’t know. He would tell her to make sounds like him, and she sure could like that blue jay, just like the ones by where they lived. He told her it is like that, you have a gift. She didn’t quite understand it but she quit crying and everything was ok again. As they walked over to the grocery store to buy some hamburger to take home, the stopped by the bank parking lot. It was full of people, maybe a hundred or so. There were all kinds, some were White, and some Mexican, and Billy Ware was there he was Black, and they were looking at the back of pickup truck parked there. A man was standing up calling out names, he said, we have given out nine prizes and have just one more to go. He talked about the bank, and how they liked everybody and wanted folks to come see them on Monday to put their money in there. The kids asked Old Man was going on and he told them they were giving out something. They were going to leave but they had to fight the crowd to get to the other side, which was their way home. As they moved through the crowd, the guy way up front called out a name. It sounded familiar and they stopped to listen better. He said it again, and it was his, Old Man’s. He just stood there with a blank look on his face; he was too shy to say anything. He didn’t like crowds and being called out like that was not work going up there for any prize. The announcer said, we will call out the name once more and if there is no answer then we will draw again. Sonny yelled out, He is right here! The Old Man stood there as the crowd parted and everyone looked at him. He didn’t say a word and Mexican next to him said, Hey, you won. His kids pushed him from behind and he went up there slowly. When he got there the announcer held up a gunnysack and pulled out a big turkey, it was there for all to see. He gave it the Old Man and the crowd clapped and groaned at the same time. Someone had claimed the prize a 28-pound turkey. It was a little after lunch time and the kids stood by and watched as the bank people lined up the winners with their prizes and they took a picture of the winners. They were lined up there all of them, some had big candy canes, one had a sack of potatoes, and another a bike, and one a barbecue grill. Near the end, there was this one guy dressed with a red jacket, and payday overalls, his hair was black and you could say he looked like an Indian guy standing there with a big turkey in his arms and he was smiling. It was the first time he ever won anything anywhere. Just out of the picture those four kids of his were just proud of their dad, the Old Man. It was in the newspaper, most folks didn’t pay it any mind. It was a long time ago, and the turkey was cooked for Thanksgiving and after they ate, Old Man took his four kids and they went for walk into that stretch of pines in Kinlani, which is what the Navajo call Flagstaff and they learned to sound like a turkey. thinking about my father... rustywire
Posted on: Tue, 03 Sep 2013 11:40:54 +0000
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