Somebody always singing you

319 Pages·1997·0.85 MB·English

by  Kaylynn Sullivan TwoTrees

title: Somebody Always Singing You
author: TwoTrees, Kaylynn Sullivan.
publisher: University Press of Mississippi
isbn10 | asin: 0878059814
print isbn13: 9780878059812
ebook isbn13: 9780585031927
language: English
TwoTrees, Kaylynn Sullivan, Teton Indians-
-Mixed descent--Biography, African
subject
Americans--Biography, Racially mixed
people--United States--Biography.
publication date: 1997
lcc: E99.T34A3 1997eb
ddc: 973/.04043
TwoTrees, Kaylynn Sullivan, Teton Indians-
-Mixed descent--Biography, African
subject:
Americans--Biography, Racially mixed
people--United States--Biography.
Somebody Always
Singing You
Kaylynn Sullivan Twotrees
University Press of Mississippi Jackson
Copyright © by Kaylynn Sullivan TwoTrees
All rights reserved
Manufactured in the United States of America
The paper in this book meets the guidelines for permanence
and durability of the Committee on Production Guidelines
for Book Longevity of the Council on Library Resources.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
TwoTrees, Kaylynn Sullivan.
Somebody always singing you / Kaylynn Sullivan TwoTrees.
p. cm.
ISBN 0-87805-981-4 (alk. paper)
1. TwoTrees, Kaylynn Sullivan.
2. Teton IndiansMixed descentBiography.
3. Afro-AmericansBiography.
4. Racially mixed peopleUnited StatesBiography.
I. Title.
E99.T34A4 1997
973´.04043dc21
[B] 96-44080
CIP
00 99 98 97 4 3 2 1
Illustrations by Gail Della-Piana
Designed by Amanda K. Lucas
To Tod
Contents
BEING
Chapter One 3
Ihanbla/To Dream
Chapter Two 27
Hinhan Tanka/Great Owl
Chapter Three 39
Anakihme/Secret
Chapter Four 50
Pehin/Hair
BECOMING
Chapter Five 65
Wokiksuye/Live and Remember
Chapter Six 101
Iyeska/Mixed Blood, Interpreter
Chapter Seven 122
Cangleska Wakan/Sacred Hoop
Chapter Eight 132
Dancing between the World
Being

Page 3
Chapter One
Ihanbla/To Dream
My grandmother thought I remembered everything she did, even the
memories that were not ours. She wove the fragments of things she heard
from my father before my birth into the fabric of her own dreaming. I
added glimpses given by my mother and father when, in rare moments,
they spoke of each other. So a story was born of their meeting and of my
birth which suited the needs of each of us.
His mother, Mabel, sent a message to him. He didn't know who had
written it for her and taken it to the post office. It said simply: "Your
halfside is coming. I dreamt my grandchild, a girl baby. Hinhan
Tanka." Only a vision would cause her to go through so much trouble
to send him a message.
He touched the letter in his pocket as he watched his reflection in his
shoes. The smell of shoe polish still lingered in his nose. From where
he stood the reflection looked neat and strong. He looked like a
soldiera sergeant. It made him feel like a warrior. It was this feeling
that his father had revealed to him in his youth, and after boarding
school he tried to regain it in the army.
The sun was bright, and he could smell the plants waking up to the
warmth of the sun and the arrival of summer on the heels of spring.
Page 4
The smell was green and lush. His eyes took in the ivory magnolias in
bloom, while his body soaked up the smell of new grass and the sound
of children's laughter. He wanted to smile, but there was always a
creeping discomfort when he remembered he was in Georgia. Fort
Benning was an army base and he was a sergeant, but it was 1944, this
was the South and his skin was brown.
He answered an absentminded hello to someone who yelled "Hi, Art"
across the grass. But he kept his eyes lowered on his shoes, not
thinking where his feet were taking him. He was pleased with himself.
The smells and sounds receded into the background as he let himself
think about her, the librarian. He had been wondering about her more
each time they crossed paths, about the way she held her head and
eyes in a veil of sadness, or maybe it was loneliness. He couldn't tell.
The librarian, Daisy, looked out the windows at a sunny and clear day,
thinking about a special spot she had found where she could sit
undisturbed at lunch time. Today she was missing the Iowa skies. She
had thought that the army would be a place for some adventure and
learning. Pop had told her there were more opportunities for Negroes
who had been in the service, but she hadn't counted on the loneliness
and homesickness.
She was waiting for lunch as an opportunity to be alone and read. She
was just about to leave when she saw him come into the library. As he
pulled open the door, the breeze brought the smell of earth and sky in
with him. She knew who he was, but she didn't know his name. He
had not been in the library before, but she had seen him several times
with some of the men her brother, Junior, visited when he came on
leave to see her. It was strange for them to take to an Indian, but they
said he was a good man. They teased him for being too quiet and for
not dancing. At home anyone who didn't dance was suspect. He had
tired of the testing, and at a party the last time Junior visited he had