Mom was a very quiet person. The only thing greater than her intellect (IQ) was her EQ … her Presence and ability to Feel with/through Others. I grew out from her, from her gifts. My inherent strength / my life Pattern’s purpose was to Observe and Adapt, so I could help Others likewise.
On this particular weekday morning, before sending me off to school, I heard something that grabbed and required my Attention, unknowingly for the rest of my life. It was the ultimate birthday gift. Sitting in the bright yellow kitchen with a standard picnic table canvas throw of red & white plaid, the unassuming environment was full of a secret that would remove any future doubts or depression.
“David, listen up kiddo. I want to share something neat about your true family history.” My eyes darting across her atypical serious facial expression, unable to say anything in response to that plea for full attention.
“You will understand later in life, why this was hidden from you. Your grand parents and all generations prior, are from this land … 1,000s of years.”
I knew she was talking about all of Michigan (LL shorelines and beyond), her arms expanding to convey well beyond our home town and vacation experiences. I took a breath, but couldn’t find relevant inquiry or affirming words to encourage her to say more. I knew I had to remember this however, so I slid forward on my chair.
“You are truly an Original from this land, and I’m so proud of you …” gasping for air and seemingly next words. I would come to understand later in life what she couldn’t [yet] say … that she was proud of me for finding a Way into Existing, despite all she, her mother, and her matrilineal ancestors had been through. “thank you mom …” was met with a brief interrupt, to complete her crucial message.
As an adult reflecting on my entire storyline, I recall that in this precise moment, I wondered if she was proud of my one-liner in my debut Play stardom. Or was it my outbursts in home Bible class? All the Lego reenactments on the living room coffee table? Had she seen some deeper meaning in my sidewalk chalk writing? Or maybe it was my first Story / Koan?
“David, my grand parents went through a LOT. I know this may be hard to understand, but please … you MUST remember this …” a look of sadness crossing her face, now becoming warmth and Sincerity … desperation. “… you … we have lost our way of living … but you can get it back, if you just remember.” my mother grabbing my shoulders. I gulp a breath, in high expectation and confusion.
“none of us were allowed to live the way we really wanted to, but YOU will someday David” shaking me lovingly. I remember my nervous smile, worried if she thought I was not taking her seriously. As I aged, challenged the presumption that my dad, or grand father might be to blame.
“I want you to remember four names … these are your great grand parents who truly love you … all of us, and they are Here for you.” her eyes darting across my face, praying I am really understanding and filing this away in memory.
“Namid [but sounded like ‘not mad’ to me] is my grand mother. Her life … “ fumbling for words my age 6 heart could understand and remember … ” her life was changed [by Jack Tremblay I later determined] and she lost our way of living … lost it all. It was TAKEN from her and us.” mother’s eyes tearing up, hesitant to say more. David had visions of Namid, never able to place a name, until now.
Mother offered me this pic at age 7. My Great Grandmother Namid and Grandmother as baby (name unknown). Offered to me in digital form and affirmed by Genealogist in 2022.
“m kay, ummm” … I was breathing in, unable to say anything affirming enough, though I desperately wished I had the words of the adult version of me. I was briefly distracted, wondering why her ggma “wasn’t mad”.
“her parents were wise David … they were FREE!” seeing my thought bubble and distraction, shaking me again, this time scaring me a bit. “their names were also in a different language, a language of this land …” breathing in, checking for my attention, ” … his name was the-Secret and hers was Dawn.” as she uttered their original [Ojibwe] names, my young heart couldn’t quite grasp to remember but would recall in my 40s … she clarified “Keme and Wapun … remember this kiddo … their shared name was … something sounding like We Saw Gum“, which made no sense to me for years. “Their shared name means holding back pain“. This confused and scared me, in my little Utopian state of living.
I’d figure out in 2022 who they were, tracing them to the 1870 Durant Roll as members of the Grand Traverse Bay Band of Ottawa and Chippewa indians. They were listed on page 26 line 26 in the Durant role as “KEME-WESHAWGUM“. Their translated Ojibwe/Odawa adoption name would likely be wiizagam, meaning “[holding back] a painful [unspoken] secret”. Something was translated oddly between their Algonquin:Abenaki language, likely just laziness of the recording agent using a “sounds like” spelling.
I thought she said “keep me” and “weapon”. Confused, but really trying to understand my mother in this rare vocal moment. Scared a bit. Intrigued for the rest of my life.
“Your other grand mother … she was brave … a Leader who… walked, carefully” fumbling for the proper original name. “She … leaves no trace [yes, that’s it], she carried her footsteps, walking lightly in life”. Looking at me, wondering if she just confused me. [what kind of names are these, in a reality full of one-word christian names!?].
I later translated her name of Kaiennenhawi and traced her
to the Mohawk: Kanienʼkehá꞉ka Peoples of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy,
otherwise known as the Iroquois Confederacy in NY.
“for your sake David, I NEED you to remember their names David! … Promise me you will!” looking at me sternly.
I was speechless, nodding my head with inherent, deep-seeded gratitude that couldn’t be expressed in [simple English, non-descriptive] words. I was quite emotional internally at this point, so the rest of the conversation has faded into uncertainty. But I do know this, she was trying to help me understand as I aged, why my true Indigenous identity was hidden (robbed) and planted this seed to help me remember and someday to reclaim that Identity.
Why was she was afraid to speak of this again? I suspect she “got lost in the Play of life”. Soon after this send-off gift on my birthday morning, she started her Corporate Career, which would ultimate give her Cancer and end her storyline. I suspect she felt some regret, not revisiting and reinforcing these points. Her final words to me, in front of my father, reinforced all of the info she shared on THIS day.
1987 – David’s last picture with dear mother, on vacation in Dayton Beach FL
This particular morning and its connection throughout my entire storyline, now shapes my Mission and purpose in life.
As I aged and explored my entire storyline, I was overcome by profound sadness for what my mother, her mother, and all my ancestors endured. But as of 2022 in writing this, the Phoenix is rising from the ashes of the War on Natives and their ancient understanding of what it means to be a grateful, loving, awe-inspired natural human being … the Original Peoples …. the Anishinaabe.
Gidinawendimin ᑭᑎᓇᐌᓐᑎᒥᓐ 🙏🏽❤️⨁⭕️🔥 (all is ⭕️ne relation)
David’s restored Family Tree
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