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When I was young I remember my grandmother (for the life of me I can’t remember which one it was) told me a story about Geronimo. She told me how he could become invisible and that he was “meanest Indian ever lived”. She explained to me that everything Geronimo did he did for his family. After telling me the story of Geronimo she said “remember that no matter what you should do for your family like Geronimo did”.
It was summer and it was very hot outside. One of my grandmothers was outside with me and the other four children. I remember telling my grandmother that it was so hot outside. She had the five of us do a “raindance”. After we did the raindance I remember walking up to her and asking, “why didn’t it work”. She hung her head, slowly swung it from side to side and said, “theirs just not enough Indians”.
Sherry
Geronimo is buried about 50 miles from where I live. I’ve visited his grave. The cedars covering his graves are covered in bandanas, a sort of tradition to wear a bandana while visiting it and leave it behind.
He’s buried in Fort Sill’s Indian graveyard. It’s in SW Ok.
vance
I didn’t know that. I also do not know why I was told that story or if it is suggestive of anything other than a “story”.
Thank you for the information.
So you live in Oklahoma?
Sherry
yup — and my family have been here for a long time.
My Dad was born in 1915 and Geronimo (Apache) died in 1909 just about 30 miles from where dad was born. Quanah Parker (Comanche) died in 1912 about 20 miles from where dad was born. I think they were the last 2 of the great War chiefs to pass away.
So when they died, the era of Indian Wars passed with them. Don’t know how this might help you any.
I don’t know why your ancstors would have told you this story, but it is a good story. Thanks you for sharing it.
vance
Well Vance,
Anything educational is helpful. Now I know when Geronimo died and where which I didn’t know before.
When I was a kid I remember the Daniel Boone National Forest being my playground. I remember catching crawdeads, especially the ones with eggs. Came face to face with a cotton mouth one day, swung on “grapevines (thats what I called them). I found these soft pebbles in the creek also that would almost melt when rubbed between my fingers and you could find them in almost any earth color imaginable. I would crush these pebbles and use them for paint and pretend like it was makeup. From a very young age me and my siblings seemed to pretty much take care of ourselves. That may be why we were raised mostly in foster homes but that is another story.
Sherry
We haev the crawdad’s in common. 🙂 I remember they had these holes at the creeks edge and you could stick anyting down that hole, a twig maybe, and sometimes a crawdad would grab it with it’s pincher and come up whe you pulled the stick up. Now I’d pretty much forgotten about that!
Also I remember these tarantula holes on the misquite covered hills — whole acre or more of them, and goin’ down to the stock tank with a bucket to get water, and pouring it down their hole and seeing them run out of their hole and chase you a little. That was fun too. Oh, to be a kid again . . . 🙂
vance
Hey guys! I’m liking these stories. They’re a good vacation from all the other things.:) I too had my crawdad days. My mom came face to mouth with a cotton mouth while swimming in a stripper pit when she was young. She would never get near water after that! But, Vance, SPIDERS? YUCK! Not those big guys like you’re talking about! I’ll keep my Black Widows and Brown Recluses! 😉 You guys are great! Love & Light, Lynella.
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