A brush with an old sage:

Happy Thanksgiving!

by Hal Swift

            The Drytown Thanksgiving Day Committee has put together one heckuva celebration.  The committee is headed up by Miz Margo, the town librarian.  The town council figures she's the best one for the job because she's read more about history, local and otherwise, than most anybody else they know.  Plus, she's a good organizer, and ever'body likes 'er.

            The parking lot outside Shorty's Place, and the baseball field next to it, are filled with people in various costumes.  The children, dressed up like little Pilgrims, are runnin' around, enjoyin' the freedom of their folks bein' engaged in conversation, and not payin' any particular attention to 'em.  And the youngsters from the nearby Indian communities are dressed in native costumes, and runnin' around like… well, like little Indians.

            The Drytown Volunteer Fire Brigade Band is set up out by home plate.  Some of the young folks are dancin' to the music, while the old folks sit in their canvas folding chairs, clapping in time with the songs, and remembering how they used t'dance, "back then."

            Mayor Geno, and the town council, are settin' up the foldin' tables, which are on loan from the local church interfaith association. You know the kind of tables I'm talkin' about here--with legs that fold up under 'em, and that seat six to eight people when they're all set up?  Some of the church men are helpin' too, which is a big plus for the town councilmen.  Y'see?  Some of them ol' boys aren't in all that great shape physically, don'cha know."

            Mailman Dan, his face flushed with the heat from the pit barbecue, is directing Sheriff's Deputy Anson McBean and Johnny the newspaper man, in how to properly baste the cow at the bottom of the pit.

            Johnny says, "How come we're not barbecuin' a turkey?  Seems like it'd be a whole lot easier than this big ol' cow."

            Dan says, "Anson, use that long-handled brush there, and really get those juices spread around."  He turns to Johnny and says, "Not that many turkeys around here, but there's a lotta cows."  Then he says, "You get a chance, how about you stir up them coals a little bit.  Seems like they're kind of coolin' off, down there by the cow's south end."

            Johnny says, "You got it!"  Then to Anson, he says, "You want to move over a little bit there, Anson.  I need more room to get this Irish toothpick down there and move some of those hot coals a little closer to the main course."

            Anson says, "Okey-Dokey, Johnny, go ahead.  Just try not t'get any of them coals up where I'm brushin'."

            Shorty comes over to look into the pit.  "Hey, Anson," he says, "Y'need to kind of spread them juices around more."

            "I am, Shorty!" says Anson.  "Mailman  Dan just told me to!  I'm doin' the best I can!  I swear, this is just like at our Labor Day barbecue, last year.  I'm havin' 'day-jah view" all over again!"

            Waco Walmsley's neice, Sioux comes up and gives Shorty a hug.  He blushes and says, "What's that for?"

            "Miz Margo told me you volunteered your place and your help in setting up all of this.  This is a great Thanksgiving Day celebration, Shorty!"

            "You got that right," says Johnny.  "Only thing is… Deputy McBean and me are gettin' a bad case of the DDTs, workin' over this fire like we are."

            Sioux says, "DDTs?  What's that?"

            Anson giggles and says, "Why, have you forgot, Miss Sioux.  You said the same thing last Labor Day.  The DDTs stands for the 'Dreaded Dry Throat!'"

            "And the only cure for it," says Johnny, "is an ice-cold mug of sasparilla."

            "Now that you mention it," says Sioux.  "I do recall our having this same conversation at the Labor Day barbecue.'

            Shorty hollers over to Smitty and Old Vern, "If you two boys got a minute, how about you go in and get a couple of icy cold sasparillas for Johnny and Anson here!"

            Smitty and Old Vern allow as how there just ain't anything else in the whole world they'd druther do, and head for the back door of Shorty's Place, promisin' to be right back with the requested libation.

            Dave P. Fisher comes strollin' up and looks into the pit.  "Hey Anson," he says.  "Looks like your cow is a little dry over here on the west side."

            Anson stands up and takes a deep breath. 

            Johnny says, "Never mind, Anson.  You're doin' just fine.  Ol' Dave here is just tryin' to be helpful.  He ain't  pickin' on you.  As a matter of fact," he says, "I do believe that critter is ready for the table."

            Of course, this brings Shorty, and a whole group of self-delegated barbecue experts over to the pit, where they agree, it's time to eat.

            Shorty gets the honor of turnin' the crank of the hoist that lifts the day's main course up to where it can be swung over to the cutting table.  There, Anson, Johnny, his wife, Miz Patty, and Dave P. Fisher and his wife, Kathy, set to work, cuttin' up the now perfectly-barbecued cow. 

            Montana Mac Mcart has been kind'a watchin' the whole thing, but pitches in now to help--takin' a finger sample just t'make sure the cow is done.  He giggles when Miz Kathy gives Dave P. a smack on the wrist for reachin' in the tub and doin' the same thing.  "Example," she cautions.  "The children are watchin'."

            Dave P. gives Mac a look that says, "You'll pay for that giggle later, Bud."

            Shorty hollers after Smitty and Vern and says, "Don't stay away too long, now.  That cow's about ready to be put on the table!"  Then he calls over to Miz Margo and says, "Ma'am, you want'a get the ladies t'set up all the food they've brought?  Old John's wife, Miz Hewovy, is supervisin' the Paiute ladies' in getting' the food together that they've brought.  She'll be glad t'give you a hand, too."

            Miss Margo smiles back at 'im with that sweet smile of hers, and starts gatherin' together the volunteers from the ladies auxiliary like y'would a bunch of chickens at feedin' time.  She urges each of them to do what they need to do.

            She says, "All right, ladies!   Take your places behind the serving tables, now.  We have a lot of  folks, who've been savoring the aroma of this barbecue for some five hours now, and they are hungry!"

            Quickly, quietly and efficiently, the ladies busy themselves taking lids off pots and bowls, and putting out biscuits, and fresh-churned butter, salads and side dishes, and mashed potatoes and gravy. 

            You name it, if it belongs at a barbecue, it is here, and it is ready to be enjoyed.

            Old John's wife, Miz Hewovy is laughin' and tellin' the ladies from Coyote Canyon where on the servin' tables to lay out the weyahooba (acorn soup), weyaukaba (acorn biscuits), baked agai (trout), and barbecued tuhudda tookoo (venison).

            All in all, a great turnout of both Taibo (non Indian) and Numu (Paiute).

            Father Aguilar gets up and asks folks to bow their heads for his blessing, and then Old John does the same.  When he's finished, he says, " How mu pazea'a?" 

            And Father Aguilar says, "Is everybody hungry?" 

            Old John says, "I just said that."  And everybody laughs.

            Old John says, " Tamme tukakoo!"   And Father Aguilar says, "Let's eat!"

            Old John gets another laugh when he says, "I just said that, too."

            Numu and Taibo teenagers are doin' a fine job of getting' the food from the servin' tables to the dinner tables.  And, yeah…takin' a taste of this or that, along the way.

            Shorty gets Smitty and Ol' Vern, and Logan West, and Waco, and Dave P. Fisher to act as bartenders and waiters, servin' everybody's choice of buttermilk sasparilla, and sassafras tea.  They, too, take a taste of this or that, as they pass by the serving tables.

            Them two  famous disc jockeys, Dizzy Don and Rockin’ Ron are livin’ up to standards set a long time ago by the broadcast industry, and eatin’ all the free grub they can get their hands on--which includes plenty of free sasparilla and buttermilk, as well.

            Big Jim, former circus strongman, and now the owner of Drytown's Mercantile Store, is settin' with Sergei Shevalevski, former circus giant, and now the Drytown blacksmith. 

            The Paiute youngsters are a bit shy about approaching a man who could lift half the folks present all at once, and his partner, who's seven-and-a-half feet tall.  But both the men soon have the young folks enthralled with their stories of the circus, and all are havin' a fine old time. 

            And a fine old time is what everyone here is havin’—what with all the food and fun that’s bein’ enjoyed.  But it’s maybe another three hours before the full servin’ tables have given way to full stomachs all around.  Everyone’s in that kind of happy, blissed-out state that comes from enjoyin’ plenty of good food and good company.

            As pretty much the host for today’s get-together, Shorty figures this is a good time to let folks know how he feels about it--and them.  So he stands, raises his glass of buttermilk and says, "Here's to us… to ALL of us!  On this, the latest, and BEST Thanksgiving ever!   Now let's hear it for everybody who pitched in to make this a Thanksgiving Day to remember!" 

            At that, ever’body stands up, cheerin' and clappin', as all the chefs and chefs' helpers, both Taibo and Paiute, are pointed out, and properly pleased and embarrassed by all the attention.

            Miz Margo turns to old Charley Walker and his wife, Miz Abigale, and says, "You know, I think it must've been pretty much like this at the First Thanksgiving."

            Father Aguilar smiles at this and says, "You know.  I wouldn't doubt that a bit.  This is one fine example of how people from very different cultures can get along in peace and harmony--kind of an intercultural exchange."

            "You got that right," says Old John.  Then, to Miz Margo he says, "You suppose I could have another piece of that intercultural pumpkin pie?" 

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For those who need a refresher as to what an Irish toothpick is: It's a tool brought to the US by Irish laborers in the early 1900s.  5 or 6 feet in length, approximately 2 inches in diameter.  It was made of iron, and had a point, a small shovel tip, or fork at the bottom end, and usually an iron ball at the top to give it weight.  It was used primarily for loosening soil in construction projects.  You jabbed the soil with it, like you might with a toothpick.

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Here's a statement from Lois Kane, director of the language department of the Reno-Sparks Indian Colony:  "It is important that we speak the language(s) given to our people thousands of years ago by the Creator and pass the language(s) on to all of our relatives and our future generations.  Each of us are responsible to each other for the survival of our language(s), for it is through our language(s) that we will learn the spirit and values of who we are and the cultural ways of our people.  Speak your language.  Know your culture, traditions, and ceremonies.  Stay strong and proud forever!" Numu Yadooana, Newe Daigwa, Washiw Itlu Gagayay!

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Visit the RSIC Language Department website here: http://www.rsic.org/community.asp?action=language-

Explore the Reno-Sparks Indian Colony website here: http://www.rsic.org/

Link to the Pyramid Lake Paiutes website here: http://plpt.nsn.us/index.html

Here are some Numu folk tales: http://www.rsic.org/about.asp?action=stories

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Old Farmer's Almanac: http://www.almanac.com/

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You can eMail Hal at hal_swift@yahoo.com

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(Ed. Note:  For a closer look at Hal Swift's cowboy poetry, go to http://www.cowboypoetry.com/halswift.htm )

For all of Hal Swift's columns for TNO, see TNO's Hal Swift page