Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Native American’ Category


I hear the crows converse,
I see the cloudy skies.

I feel it pleasantly cool outside,
in Red Lake.

How strange,

that I will miss the amusing sounds of the crows,
the melancholy overcast skies,
and the invigorating feel of the cool air,
when I return to someplace else
where I live.

Advertisements

Read Full Post »


4:20 a.m.

As I step night-side,

I awaken and muse in her warm embrace.

I hear the sound of the wind

rushing through the trees

in Red Lake.

Read Full Post »


I found this picture while searching for family photos at the Minnesota Historical Society way back in ’77. (1977, not 1877)

I managed to find out where I could write to Bob Hope at the time and sent him a copy, hoping that he might have some information about it. I received this letter from him along with my returned photo.
Bob Hope Letter
Mr. Hope couldn’t provide me with any new information except to suggest it may have been taken in a studio. (I was thinking Cali-for-nii-aa) but I was pleased nonetheless to have received a personal letter back along with his autograph!

I recently signed up for a five day free trial of Newspapers.com (I needed a credit card but was told how I could easily cancel my trial before the five days were up.)
During that period, I pretty much dedicated myself to looking up as many possible Ancestor references for myself and friends who were interested. I probably looked at a thousand possible articles and was rewarded with a score or more, which I “Clipped” and then downloaded. This was one of them.
Bob Hope and Ben Littlecreek at the Nicollet Hotel
Yep, same top hat, same sport coat, same two people. BINGO!!! Mystery solved.

Part of the article reads:

“Forever a gagster, Bob Hope invaded Minneapolis Monday. He put on a two-hour stage show in Minneapolis Auditorium. Sang a duet with Mayor Eric G. Hoyer, said nasty things about Bing Crosby, and was made an honorary Indian. Most of the shenanigans took place in Nicollet Hotel, where, among other things, the ski-nosed comedian attended a dinner put on by the Theadore Peterson American Legion Post.

*   *   *

In Picture below, Hope meets Chief Ben Littlecreek of the Red Lake Chippewa Indian Tribe. Hope made the Chief an honorary “Paleface”, from the movie by the same name.”

As a side note, I like Hope’s irony here. That’s the first time I’ve heard of an Indian being made an honorary Paleface!

All kidding aside, for you genealogy buffs out there, Try the Newspaper.com free Trial. It was worth it! (And, they actually made cancelling the trial easy!) All irony aside, I will pay for a subscription–which I can get for just one month if I want–should I need to research other ancestors in the future.

Read Full Post »


I hear the owls in the distance,

friends who have moved on.

Read Full Post »


Grampa Ben with unknown menI recently came across this picture of my grandfather, Benjamin Odawa Littlecreek posing with a group of unknown men. I would like to know who they are. He traveled extensively during the winters when he wasn’t working at his Trading Post at Itaska State Park in Minnesota. He often went to other countries. He worked at Itaska from about 1947 to at least 1960 (That’s when I think I was about 5 when I saw him there).  So I believe this was taken during that time period–most likely from the thin ties I would say in the fifties. At least it gives people a general period around which to look.

Who are these guys? Could they be Russians? Are they from the Minnesota state capitol? Are they U.S. Marshals? Does that weird column or lamp post on the right give any clues? The guy just on the right of gramps could be Indian, he could be Russian… Can anyone identify the badges? Any clues, help, or answers would be appreciated. If you work at the FBI, or the CIA, or MI6, or the KGB, or even the Minnesota Historical Society, anonymous, or other tips welcome.

 

Read Full Post »


the sound

of the North Wind

 

rushing through the trees

 

all night long.

Read Full Post »


Mom says, “Let’s stop and see if the bears are there.”

So we turn off into the dump grounds, where six large dumpsters are lined up on an asphalt pad inside a ten foot high chain link fence.

It is night.

Our headlights illuminate almost everything–to a height of about six feet.

The scene is ghostly.

A bear saunters out from between the dumpsters–wary, as any wild animal is on an Indian reservation.

He is huge for a bear, at least a good six hundred pounds.

He walks slowly away and out of the compound with a full white garbage bag clutched in his mouth.

He is followed closely by a black and white mother cat–her belly hanging down loosely–
as if she were his pet,
hoping for a morsel leftover from her master.

Another bear rises from scrounging within one of the far dumpsters.

His form towers three feet above its five foot high walls.

He regards us curiously.
then disappears again within.

Strangely enough, we do not see each bear.

They are holes in the night,
an absence of light
In the form of a bear

Although, at just the right angle,
we see the glint of their eyeshine–
the light of their spirit within them.

*Bears, plural, in Anishinabemowin.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: