Shinnecock Voices: Lessons Passed on by Auntie Light

She was born in the Year of the Dragon according to Chinese cosmology. She was born during extremely perilous times according to the teachings of the Church. She was born during a full moon at the time of the Solstice. Born at a time when all the World was at War. Born at a time when her parents and grandparents and all the Elders in the Village still told the stories of their Ancestors and the Prophecies, whose time was coming. Born on the cusp of changing times.

I was just a small child when I first met this wonderful woman, my Grandparents taking me with them on a long road trip heading North to visit her. It took us two days to get there, and so required an overnight stay in a motel. A Motel! Sleeping for the first time in a bed not my own was both amazing and a little scary. It was an adventure all on its own, and I bet I can count on one hand the number of times my Grandparents stayed in motels after that. We ate breakfast in the motels’ small cafe. A fried egg and toast with a tiny glass of orange juice. That meal is so etched in my memory that nearly 70 years later I can see it clearly, and almost taste it. As we drove away to continue our journey, the Sun was just cresting the treetops. As amazing as the past 24 hours had been, I couldn’t imagine what could possibly come next.

At the age of 5, in that summer before I would enter kindergarten, my interactions with white people was limited to Church on Sundays, and always in the presence of my Grandparents who raised me. Their watchful eyes kept me safe. There was no reason for us to travel far from home in any direction, whether to visit with relatives or do some weekly shopping. Between the small rural town and the Reservation, the mileage measured 17 miles, and that was the extent of my world.

But I could read, I loved books, and that was my window to the world outside of the family home. So when the road took a turn into a forest, it looked and felt magical to me. Both familiar and unknown at the same time. It was magic plain and simple.

Her homestead/camp consisted of a small main cabin, small barn and several sheds and chicken runs. It was a farm in miniature, fully functioning and buzzing with life. She and her three sons lived well with their livestock, bountiful hunting and fishing grounds and their self-sufficient lifestyle. I was instantly enraptured by the scene, it was a storybook come to life, complete with the tail wagging Collie dog.

Her name translated to English means Early Light Woman, and it was that time of day from which her Power emanated. And so she rose each day between the dark and dawn to pray. She told me that she learned this old and sacred habit from her great Grandmother who lived to be well over 100 years old. She told me that all the women in her family lived long healthy lives and gave birth to many children. She said this was because of the way they lived, according to the Seasons and the food they prepared. Also, she said, it was because we were taught to pray not only to give thanks for all that is good in our lives, but also to pray for those less fortunate than ourselves.

Grandfather and the boys went out for a trek around the territory, while Grandmother, Early Light and I stayed in the kitchen to start preparing the noon meal. She had asked me to call her Auntie as a show of respect to an Elder, and I called her Auntie Light from that day on.

We stayed for four days with Auntie Light and her family, and every day was filled with activities and lessons learned. There was a horse small enough to assuage the initial fear of a young girl, allowing her to attempt her first ride. Grandfather worked with the boys on carving a totem pole, telling the stories of our families and our connections, through the carved figures in the wood.

Us ladies picked wild berries and vegetables from the garden, and then canned and pickled dozens of jars for the pantry. Auntie Light had a story and a song for everything we did. She said that that is how we make our work a prayer, a sacred act of thanksgiving to the Creator. We also hung herbs to dry for medicine, and the whole house had an aroma of love and acceptance.

So many memories from that trip have been floating through my mind lately. As America is going through its major changes and the scenarios unfolding that look and feel like even harder times and struggle are coming to the Native Indigenous population, life lessons from Auntie come to mind. How to walk in two worlds, adapting to the changing white world while holding fast to traditional wisdom. She knew that this time in my life was pivotal. The white Christian world does not acknowledge the intelligence of children, designating the age of 7 to be the age of reason. Prior to that, children are encouraged to be seen and not heard.

In our Way, we show respect to our children who will one day be beloved Grandparents themselves. We show our love by teaching them life skills at a young age so that by the time we have to send our little ones to the whitemans school, they are strong in the knowledge of who they are and where they come from.

When our visit came to an end and we were packing the car, I was amazed by the amount of gifts that we were taking home with us. There were boxes of home canned goods, paper bags full of seeds and herbs. There were quite a few handmade blankets as well as two boxes of buckskins and furs. There was also beadwork, bracelets, rings and headbands. I didn’t find out until much later that most of these items would be sold at our Powwow and the money made would be sent back to Auntie Light to help her through the Winter. All I saw and knew was the generosity of our hosts, and I loved them all the more for it.

But the best gift of all was the small apron that Auntie Light had made for me. It was the exact replica of the apron she had worn all the time that we were there. She handed it to me saying “I pray that when you put this on, all the work that you do will be blessed, and that you will carry all the memories of our first visit with each other.”

I still have that apron, although when I unfold it now and hold it up, I can see right through it. I can’t handle it roughly at all because the aging and over 65 years of wear has made it so thin that it will tear. But the memories it brings are strong and clear.

The ride home is less clear to me now. I know it felt like it was faster than the trip up North. And then suddenly we were back home. Back to everything that looked familiar, but felt a little different somehow. I was seeing things a little differently, having been given a new perspective of life.

That was just the first time I met her, the beautiful and wise Early Light Woman. Over the years, my feet found their way back to her and her camp many times, and each time was rich with knowledge to carry away with me.

But those are stories for another time. Let it suffice that those things Auntie Light taught me on that first visit, held me in good stead when I entered Kindergarten in September. Hell, those lessons still carry me through these days.

Surviving these days of uncertainty in the midst of American chaos requires a strong personal foundation. Like Auntie taught me, I start each day with a prayer. And that prayer is not only giving thanks for my beautiful life, but also for those less fortunate than myself. The unfortunate Americans who have no cultural foundation to lean on.

You know who you are.

Margo Thunderbird is a Shinnecock Nation tribal elder, singer, songwriter, storyteller, lecturer and a member of both the Warriors of the Sunrise and the American Indian Movement.

“Shinnecock Voices” is a monthly column in which citizens of the Shinnecock Nation share stories and opinions, and discuss the projects and campaigns they’re working on, to allow readers an inside view into their incredible community.