Friday, April 17, 2015

Our Name: Host or Guest?

Part One
Who knew? Those items hitting the table sounded like a dinner bell to roach. It made an appearance and waited. I pondered my response, apathy. Hell, maybe some fondness was included for the bug. If true, it signaled movement toward surrender and acceptance on my part.

His Favorite Gal brought a plate of diagonally cut sandwiches and the pot of instant spuds. We served ourselves and roach called dibs on a dime sized mound of potatoes that fell from a spoon in transit.

“Speaking of names, which we’ve yet to discuss, does IT have one? The bugs I’ve met recently do,” I said pointing to roach with my fork.

“Yah, sure thing. That’s Chong,” said Gal as she acted out toking the remnant of a joint.

“Makes sense,” I said and resumed eating.

I looked to Clay and waited for him to take a bite. As my buddy gnawed his baloney I opened my mental notepad and readied for his story. Speaking through semi chewed food, Clay took off at last.

“Okay then, here’s what I told you long ago on the day we became buddies but you claim not to remember. So yah, great granddad on dad’s side named me. It wasn’t done traditional neither, no ceremony, no nothing.”

Clay gulped the last bit of his food and baptized it in coffee to ease its burial. Gal, belching like a guy, cleared the table and my brother continued.

“Yup, the old guy was livin’ with us at the time and I was born at home. Took me from my blanket, so I was told, and laid me on his lap. I was beefy and plump at a birth weight of about nine pounds. He squeezed me all over like he was stuffin’ a sausage casing. He said I felt like fresh clay and would one day be molded into a vessel, a medicine man, yah, a healer.”

Clay stopped and looked to the kitchen.

“Hey Gal, can I have a smoke? I got the urge.”

“Nope. Doc says no more of that for you. I don’t light up around you on account of temptation. Besides, you think Jesus wants you puffin’ on them things?”

I interrupted. “Then what bro? How about the Silver Otter part? What’s the deal there?”

Easily dissuaded, Clay answered me but gave Gal some squint eye first.

“Oh, okay, so anyways, Otter was a clan back when he still knew ‘em and used ‘em. I was told Otter gave us its nature of playful flexibility and resilience. Silver the metal, not color, is pliable and shines when worked and shaped. Put ‘em all together and I’m one super bendable and shape taking guy. Could be some truth there Ain’t it.”

His Favorite Gal finished cleaning up and leaned against the sink to listen. Chong stopped nibbling on his taters when Clay ended the story. It was getting late, close to ten o’clock, and the Rez had a rare peace over it. Then again, many people had gone Pow-Wowing.

I asked, “Is that it then? I got it all down in my head and tomorrow I’ll put it into words on my laptop computer.”

Clay’s demeanor changed a little as fatigue settled on his face and he lost focus. 

Maybe Clay’s just tired,” I thought in hope.

When Chong took off in a hurry I saw it as a sign.

“I’m goin’ ta bed you’s guys,” said Clay.

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