Opinion

Clara Caufield: How my grandpa taught me to become friends with living creatures

Thursday, January 24, 2019

The grass can ‘sing'

By Clara "Clem" Caufield
Native Sun News Today Northern Cheyenne Correspondent
nativesunnews.today

As promised in last week's issue, I am going to start writing more positive stories about the Northern Cheyenne. If only to overcome the temptation of the negative stories, which is so easy to do, as there are so many of those. However, there are also many good stories and many good people among us, and we should celebrate that more often.

This is going to be the first in a small series because there are many stories to tell about Wesley Whiteman, an uncle to my mother, but as the Cheyenne way goes, he was my "Meh-Meh" -- a Grandpa, that is.

I don't know how the family name Little Whiteman got shortened to just Whiteman. Uncle Leroy said that when he enlisted in the Air Force, during the Korean Conflict, his legal, formal name was Leroy Franklin Little Whiteman, too long to fit into the enrollment form boxes, so, as he says, they took a "Little" bit of his name out. Uncle Leroy is a joker too.

Grandpa Wesley Whiteman was a life-bachelor, but he loved children, and I was extremely lucky to be one of them, even as a little half-breed.

At the time I did not know that he was somewhat famous, a historian from the Smithsonian having spent a few years with him, to capture the essence of a Cheyenne spiritual man, writing a book, titled The Last Contrary.

Wesley Whiteman, whose Cheyenne name translated to Black Bear, was the subject of The Last Contrary by Warren E. Schwartz.

Of course, Meh-Meh never mentioned that to me, not considering it of particular importance.

Meh-Meh was a very kind and fun-loving person, always chuckling, smiling, telling little jokes or asking "Wanna hear a story?" That was his way of gently teaching a lesson in a soft well-modulated voice. If you were receptive, he would tell one, but never force it upon you.

And, he always had little red and white striped peppermint candies in his pocket, for a "treat." 'If you crunch them in your back teeth, they go fast," he would advise, "but if you let them lay on your tongue, they will last longer."

I was always up for a story. So, he shared a very special one and experience. (Now I know that, but at the time did not really appreciate it. How can you do that at seven years old?) Yet, it was a great story/lesson and I'll always remember it.

We had gone for a walk, down to the crick, taking a break for crackers and cheese under a tall shade tree. "Do you see the grass?" he asked, chewing the soft stem of one in his mouth.

I nodded. It was so tall, wavy and soft, golden in color during August. Of course, I was much shorter then.

"You are just like grass," he informed me. "Two living creatures, Made by Maheo (the Creator). Can you be friends with grass?"

"I think so."