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Nora was the typical Native
American Grandmother. Her house, her yard, her car let the world know the
grand kids were often there.
On this particular day the
children had been unusually active. First they were whizzing around the
house chasing each other on their bikes and then again swinging from the
swing set. Bibeth held the affectionate name given by her younger cousin.
At the moment she was in a tug of war with her boy cousin, Tommy.
Both the children's hands
were surprising strong as they were clinging to the same toy. The two
jerked it back and forth, first one way and then another. Neither of them
was willing to let the other one win.
“Snacks! Snacks!” Nora
called to the children. “You said you were hungry. Come on in for treats.”
The children forgot the toy
and were all three in through the back door, pushing and shoving to try to
get in at the same time. Bibeth pulled a stool from under the table and
claimed it.
“I want a stool. Bibeth got
the stool. I want a stool.” Tommy screamed.
Nora looked frantically
around the big kitchen. “There are plenty of stools. Let me bring some more
in here.”
As soon as they were all
seated on their stools, Nora pulled the juice from the refrigerator. No
sooner was it on the table when Tommy grabbed the bottle.
“I get to pour the juice.”
Tommy let them know.
“Oh no you don't! I will
pour it.” Bibeth again had a grip on the bottle while Tommy maintained his
hold on it.
“Hold it!” Nora caught them
before the juice was to surely spill on the floor.
“Okay! That's it! I am worn
out with squabbling. Get your juice and your treat. We are going to read.
I'm tired and you are totally out of control.”
Nora picked up what was
closest and it happened to be an article out of a Christian magazine. The
point was being made as to how one could get along with their fellow humans.
“Hmmm, must be an angel about
the place. I couldn't have found anything better to read.”
As Nora skimmed through the
article about empathy, kindness, and other skills, she tried to makes the
words more simple in order for them to understand. Finally a point about the
treatment of people of other races was made.
“How am I going to get this
across?” Nora was thinking.
“Tommy, do you know some
people don't like Indians?”
Tommy in his four years was a
thinker far past his age. The moment could have been set in a time warp far
past what one knows as slow motion. The little boy turned to look directly
at his grandmother. His expression was priceless as he lowered his eyebrows
while he studied the woman. The comment he made struck her as even more rare
when he nailed the problem down with such a simple observation.
“That's crazy Gramma!” Tommy
was incredulous. “If there weren't any Indians, we wouldn't have any Pow-Wow's.” |
