Cynthia (Ištá Tȟó Tȟó) Coleman Emery's Blog

Indian People’s Time

Posted on September 10, 2015 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

The 1875 delegation to Washington DC (Bad Wound and Rosie Red Top, seated, center front)

Visiting the reservation reminds me that I’m a poster child for the folks who tried to integrate Indians into the mainstream version of settler life—what Robert Warrior calls a Judeo-Christian viewpoint fueled by material capital.

When I return to the place where my mother and her mother and her mother were born, I see indigenous people who stayed in Oklahoma.

Oklahoma is still home to the Osage.

For the Osage, pieces of the reservation were carved up by the U.S. Government and given to tribal members at the turn of the 20th century, with the hope they would sell their land and assimilate into mainstream culture.

Many did, including my relatives. Continue reading →

Posted in american indian, Indian, native american, Native Science | Tagged American Indian, Lakota, native press, native science, Osage, sioux, Valentine McGillycuddy | 3 Comments

Coping

Posted on September 6, 2015 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

Greyhorse Cemetery

Family Gathering

This week some of my sisters and I returned to Oklahoma to take care of paperwork–always best done in person on the Rez–and visit relatives at Greyhorse cemetery.

Our ancestors’ headstones stand side by side by side: Relatives who left South Dakota and Nebraska in the 1800s to join the Osages and a few born here in Hominy.

My step-father passed away this year (and my youngest brother followed suit) so the visit marked our chance to see Dad’s name, recently added to the granite stone placed a few years ago for my mother.

Now my parents are together.

Because there are so many children–eight from more than one marriage–our family gatherings are a big burly mess. Continue reading →

Posted in american indian, family values, Indian, Indian remains, memory, native american, native press, Native Science, Osage | Tagged Family Gathering, Greyhorse Cemetery, Mom and Dad, native press, native science, Osage, Tiyospaye | 1 Comment

Trickster

Posted on August 28, 2015 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

Don’t forget your glasses

After attending a recent university business meeting, one member of the group—a graduate student—came over and said I perked up the meeting.

She meant it in a nice way.

Your face lights up and I can see the gleam in your eye, she said.

It’s because I’m a trickster.

Now the secret is out. Continue reading →

Posted in american indian, native american, writing | Tagged bureaucracy, groucho marx, science | 2 Comments

Is there a horn in your purse?

Posted on August 27, 2015 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

Is this your bag, lady?

I was searching through my purse for a strip of paper to wrap around my chewed gum and found my bicycle horn buried at the bottom.

Who else carries around a bike horn?

When I park my bike I pull off the horn because some folks like to help themselves to items that aren’t locked down.

Guess that says something about me. Continue reading →

Posted in american indian, Indian, native american, Native Science, writing | Tagged American Indian, native press, Osage, science journalism | 1 Comment

Critters that watch over us

Posted on August 14, 2015 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

William Wadsen Jr. artwork

Bee Keeper

You can take the ski lift to the top of Mount Washington in the summer-time on Vancouver Island.

A quick trip aboard a jump-seat places you at 5200 feet (1590 meters) and presto: you can see 360-degrees in all directions.

Views of the archipelago carved out centuries ago by shifts in the granite and mud make you feel big and small at the same time.

You can see islands and forests and beaches and boats and small towns dotting the landscape.

On a warm and sunny summer afternoon we hiked down about a thousand feet—some parts carefully, others at a jaunt—picking fat mountain blueberries along the way.

My two companions pointed out a silhouette on a rock, and out of the corner of my eye I saw a teddy bear in profile, frozen while we tiptoed past. Continue reading →