Nightbird

It calls with a clear

two-fingered whistle;

how a neighbor summons children

home for summer supper. 

Unabashed wooing.  

A lark?  Or Cherokee mother

clothed in twilight sadness,

blade of grass pressed in her lips.

Run.  Feel night-cooled meadow

under sunburned feet.

Find the moth-specked porch lamp,

the scent of belonging.

Without the chatter of song birds,

it seems human in the dark.  Urgent.

Should I leave by back door or front?
Persistent pipe.  O! Come.

tk/June 2015

Beautiful read by R.A.D. ...

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*A Midsummer Night's Melancholy by Michael Sowa

Spartan Bath

Separate spigots.

Chain and stopper. 

Light switch in the hall.

Reflection in a compact won't do.

I take the liberty to hang a mirror

near the jamb, pull my hairdryer cord

indulgently under the door.

Life can be too clean; I apply war paint,

mess with your modest towels,

bestow Cherokee mementos.

Lipstick graffiti.  Voodoo.  

I dead man's float in your tub;

leave my soap on the edge.

Feathers on your floor.

tk/April 2014

R.A.D.'s very best read to date...

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My DNA results...accidentally on purpose...

Last week the results from my mtDNA (maternal line) test arrived. My maternal Great-Great Grandmother was said to have been full-blood Cherokee. Like most Native American roots, it's hard to document on paper. Family Tree DNA already had my sample, so all I had to do was order an upgrade.

After eight weeks of anticipation, the results finally came in, not only confirming my Native American heritage from my mother's line, but also an unexpected percent of Ukrainian!  My main maternal links in order of percentage are: English, Irish, and Native American.

The Ukrainian connection explains a lot...my love of winter, melancholy, poetry, Russian icons, vodka...and maybe even why I recently bought a vintage student accordion, which I am slowly learning how to play. I find this all very fascinating.



* I snapped this pic accidentally on purpose

furry head things

It all started, when my daughter borrowed one of artist Nelson Shanks' props for a Halloween costume. It was a quirky-cool vintage ermine collar, complete with head and feet, that she wore, not around her neck, but on her head, Cleopatra style.

Apparently, Shanks was so taken by the critter on her head, that he painted one of his models wearing it, in the same way.

I thought it might be fun to embrace my Native American DNA with the furry-head thing, as well.  Crazy? Yeah, I'm not quite right in the head, fur or not, but I feel the tingle of my foremothers' smiles.

embracing my Native American DNA

sepia saturday, we are who we were

In the last several years of genealogical research, I discovered my maternal Great-Great Grandmother, Mahala Ray, born in 1812, is said to have been full-blooded Cherokee. This is almost impossible to prove on paper, considering many Native Americans carefully hid their ethnic roots, completely disappearing into white families, to avoid atrocities such as the Trail of Tears. The word "squaw" was an epithet of utmost disgust. Many census takers presumed them to be white, and recorded them so in the records.

Mahala was born in Tennessee and spent most of her life in Jackson County. She married William E. Smith, had nine children, was widowed, and then married her widower neighbor James Spivey, 37 years her senior. Their son, George Washington Spivey is my Great Grandfather. Sadly, other than this, I know nothing else about her.

"We have come to understand that who we are, is who we were," said Anthony Hopkins, in the role of John Quincy Adams, at the climactic moment of Steven Spielberg's Amistad. This haunting quote from the film has often made me wonder exactly how much influence DNA, as well as the life experience of our ancestors, have on who we are today.

Pioneer life was harsh and childbirth unending. I would love to know Mahala's dreams, her fears, and what bearing her ethnicity had on her life. I also can't help but wonder what effect her life has on mine, apart from the obvious things, like the color of my eyes and hair. My DNA is tingling to know, since her story is also part of my story.

Family Tree DNA has my sample, on which I plan having additional tests run, to check for Native American genes. I'll be sure to keep you posted on the results. This would confirm the oral history that's been handed down through the generations.

vintage postcard from my collection

Every man is a quotation from all his ancestors.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

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