A CHILDHOOD STORY

When I was young we always played Cowboys and Indians. I always wanted to be the Indian. We would tie our cousins up, throw them over the horses back and took them off to jail. We would concoct a soup from live ants, flowers, and dirt that the prisoners were expected to eat. Makes me wonder what I learned in school about Native Americans. 

In April of 2002, my Dad crossed over from complications of alcoholism. We had been estranged for some years due to his disease. The Summer after his passing, I decided to attend a family reunion with his side of the family. 

By that time I had been  immersed in the Native American Culture and decided to ask my aunties if there was any possibility of "blood" in our family. My Aunties response was "you betcha"! She went over to the table and brought back a picture of my Dad's grandmother, Mary Ann Allen Budge. 

In the picture, Mary Ann Allen Budge is standing in Kelly/Moran, Wyoming on their homestead. She has a turkey feather stand up bonnet on her head and is wearing a brained tan dress with knee high moccasins. The snow fences are in the background and she is surrounded by dear and elk antlers. 

When I was 15 years old my Dad took us to the farm house in Jackson Hole, Wyoming where he was born. The city had just moved the house and was ready to pave a parking lot around it. They had saved the house for a museum. The antlers in the picture at Great Grandmother's feet were used to make arbors that flanked the house front and back. The 160 aces which they ran cattle on was eventually sold to Teton National Park.

My Aunties shared with me that Grandmother Allen was the local mid-wife and knew all about herbal medicines. She passed over the same year I was born. Even though I did not have any time with her I always felt her presence.