Sunday, May 17, 2015
“At least you’ve come clean about it,” I said, “and after all, we may not get another chance to do this.”
“Yah, that’s what I said Ain’t it.”
“I guess you’re you eh Clay? I don’t suppose you took a pill today. I find it hard to believe you didn’t. You seem normal enough. How’d this happen? You seemed to be getting worse with the spirits or personas.”
“Jesus, yah, it was Jesus did it brother. Got to church with Gal, heard the hymns, prayed and I got me a vision right there in the pew. Oh, and I got rid of them pills. No turnin back until after the holiday. Yup, it’s faith all the way for now Ain’t It.”
Clay stepped over to the circle of rocks forming a fire pit. The wood was set to go and with a single match he lit a fire. I was pondering his words and he motioned me to sit. We sat and watched the flames increase and consume the dead wood. I stayed quiet.
“What is this about?” asked Clay, “this silence, it ain’t normal for you Migizi.”
Clay alternated use of names for me, a good sign actually. He was truly respectful and acting the friend he could be when in his right mind. “Right mind”…I considered those words and wondered who was fit to define them. Converting to ash, the wood made no fuss. It was dead but even so, retained usefulness. Hmmm.
“Well Clay, what can I say at this point? I’ve been waiting on you to tell me the things you want included in your memorial service. So far, that hasn’t gone so well. You keep changing places with those citizens of yours. And about Jesus, I guess you could explain that a bit more for my benefit.”
“Oh, I see,” said Clay as he got up and arranged the fire to make coffee. “Well, I hope we can cover lots of things while out here and away from what has become so common. And remember Migizi, what I said about the visitors in my body, head, or wherever they make camp. What they say could still mean somethin, right?”
“I suppose. So far, they seem to have it out for me and say little about you Clay.”
I extended my legs and crossed them as Clay put the blue enameled pot on for coffee.
“Clay, you got a plan here, I mean other than just relaxing?”
“Yah, fishin, that and eatin, fartin, belchin, and laughin all we can. And if one them others shows up, well, try to deal with it brother. So, about my vision.”
I had hoped that would be forgotten.
“So there I was, prayin. I’m in the country on this road, a red road, and drivin slow. Way ahead, I see a guy walking backward with his thumb out. Yah, so when I get there it is Jesus. I was excited and offer him a ride.”
Clay grabbed a rag and used it while adjusting the pot in the fire. It had started perking. Campfire coffee was unequaled for satisfying flavor. Smelling it made me smile and groan pleasantly in anticipation.
Still standing, Clay continued. “So as I’m driving, he tells me to do what I’ve done and here we are.”
“And because it was a vision with Jesus, I’m to go along, no questions, is that it Clay?”
“Well yah, duh.”
“Please, one question. The Red Road?”
“Our Ojibwe traditions, follow them,” said Clay.
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