Post by Okwes on Jul 7, 2007 11:05:36 GMT -5
Book embraces Indian culture
By JANE GARGAS
YAKIMA HERALD-REPUBLIC
www.yakima-herald.com/page/dis/336049527347545
<http://www.yakima-herald.com/page/dis/336049527347545>
Yakama youngsters show Mary Schlick a traditional basket hat during a
Head Start class in the early 1970s. Schlick was a Head Start consultant
for the Yakama Indian Nation in the 1970s.
They blended Midwest and West, urban and rural, non-Indian and tribal.
Welcoming a different culture, tradition, foods and religion, they
embraced the native way of life.
Most of all, they took that life to be their own.
Now that saga has been captured in a new book called, "Coming to Stay: A
Columbia River Journey."
Written by Mary Schlick, who resided in Topboy thingyh from 1969-1975, the
book chronicles her family's experiences living on three Northwest
Indian reservations, as well as in the nation's capital.
It's a book that warmly describes daily life -- raising three children,
mounting Cub Scout projects, visiting encampments, sewing a traditional
wing dress -- as well as the overall experience of being reverential
witnesses to tribal traditions.
Mary and husband Bud Schlick, a forester who worked for the federal
Bureau of Indian Affairs, arrived on the Colville Indian Reservation in
northeast Washington in 1950 from their Iowa home.
For the next 28 years they alternated reservation life -- in Yakama,
Warm Springs, Ore., as well as Colville -- with stints in Washington,
D.C.
However, they always came back West, and it's that fascinating, and
sweet, existence that the book portrays.
"When I read the book, I had tears coming down my face," says LaRena
Sohappy of Wapato. "But not from sadness. It was from remembering all
those things she wrote about."
"I knew the book would be good," agrees Ron Washines of Topboy thingyh. "I
have complete confidence in Mary."
Explaining further, Washines says, "Knowing the Schlick family and how
involved professionally and personally with the tribe they were, that
interaction stands for itself."
Photo by Mary Schlick
Watson Totus, left, gives Bud Schlick a drumming lesson during a
longhouse ceremony in the early 1970s. Totus served as chief of the
Yakama Nation while Schlick was the Bureau of Indian Affairs
superintendent for the Yakama.
The Washines and Sohappy families are among the many familiar Yakama
names (Meninick, Yallup, Saluskin, Ike, Tomaskin, Beavert, Totus,
Smartlowit, Pinkham, Sampson, Umtuch and numerous others) woven through
the book.
From the beginning, the Schlicks adopted a happy expectancy toward their
new life in the West.
Enthusiastically diving into new -- and often mysterious -- situations,
they formed deep, abiding friendships still sustained today.
"We had an interest and willingness to be pleased," recalls Mary
Schlick, who is 81, during a recent interview from her home in Oregon.
Commenting on the ability to adapt to unique experiences, Mary notes, "I
was told that as a child I always had a look on my face that something
nice was going to happen to me that day."
And, almost always, it did.
The Schlicks were affectionately introduced to native customs on the
Colville and Warm Springs reservations, but it wasn't until they arrived
in Topboy thingyh that they faced a wealth of cultural opportunities.
That's where they found the Sahaptin language spoken, infants carried on
baby boards and holidays infused with dancing contests.
"I loved learning about the Yakamas' wonderful sense of community and
rich ceremonial life," Schlick says.
Because Bud served as Yakama superintendent, he and Mary were invited to
all ceremonial celebrations and rarely missed the chance to delve into
traditional life.
With the Yakama, they encountered many firsts: attending an Indian
name-giving ceremony, digging roots in the spring, participating in a
longhouse service and enjoying a first-foods feast.
"It was a wonderful piece of history for us," Schlick recalls. "And it
wasn't just history; it came alive with parents and grandparents and
children all participating in this richness."
Later, she would immerse herself in mastering the skill of Plateau
Indian basket making. She wrote about the art in "Columbia River
Basketry: Gift of the Ancestors, Gift of the Earth," published in 1994.
Schlick also serves as adjunct curator of American Indian collections
for the Maryhill Museum of Art in Goldendale.
The tradition of reciprocity was another early Indian lesson. She
explains, "If you're given a gift, you want to return it."
That's not an obligation. Rather "it's a deep friendship-like thing,"
she says.
That friendship went both ways.
As Washines says, "The Schlicks embraced the culture and vice versa. We
took them in as family."
The Yakamas gave Indian names to both Bud and Mary; he became
"Náutahluk," a great bird or overseer, and Mary was called
"Anipashn'mi Latiit," wild potato blossom.
Non-natives are rarely so honored.
"It's really unusual to give a name (to someone who isn't Indian),"
explains Sohappy.
"They had a great attitude toward Indians," she adds.
In turn, Mary and Bud were impressed by what they saw as the Yakamas'
extraordinary strengths.
Schlick says she particularly admires the Yakamas' ability to articulate
their beliefs.
"Even now I find it startles me how eloquent they are. They have a sense
of wholeness, of presenting themselves as who they really are," she
explains.
Recently, as Schlick looked back on her Yakama days some 30 years ago,
she remembered it as a safe, quiet, gentle time.
Sadly, it was also a time of profound loss. The Schlicks' oldest son,
Bill, died in a car accident in 1972 when he was 21.
As painful as it was, Schlick also found a lesson in the tragedy, as
manifested by her Indian friends, who take life as it comes, she says.
"For me it was good to learn that life just is," she said.
The quiet acceptance of whatever happens, the uplifting as well as the
sorrowful, has given comfort through the years.
"I wouldn't change this life for anything," she says.
"Of course, I wish I could have kept my son."
When Schlick decided she wanted to preserve the stories of her family's
experiences, she wondered if it was proper for a non-native to write
about tribal life. Propitiously, she was listening to the radio one day
when she heard a Canadian Indian say, "If you want to know us, you can't
come and visit. You have to come and stay."
And Schlick realized that it was exactly what they had done.
After leaving Topboy thingyh, they briefly lived in Washington, D.C., again
but returned happily to the West in 1978. They settled in Mount Hood,
Ore., close to both the Yakama and Warm Springs reservations. Mary still
lives there, but Bud died in 1992.
About a year ago, to find out if Yakamas would accept, and be honored,
by her book, Mary asked permission to come and read parts of it --
before it was published -- to the Sohappys, a prominent family she
portrayed.
Meeting with sisters Amelia and Viola Sohappy in the Wapato Longhouse,
she read passages aloud for more than an hour.
"They teared up once in awhile and got little smiles," Mary recalls.
When she had finished, she asked the women what they thought.
"It's OK," they told her.
Then Mary knew it was.
By JANE GARGAS
YAKIMA HERALD-REPUBLIC
www.yakima-herald.com/page/dis/336049527347545
<http://www.yakima-herald.com/page/dis/336049527347545>
Yakama youngsters show Mary Schlick a traditional basket hat during a
Head Start class in the early 1970s. Schlick was a Head Start consultant
for the Yakama Indian Nation in the 1970s.
They blended Midwest and West, urban and rural, non-Indian and tribal.
Welcoming a different culture, tradition, foods and religion, they
embraced the native way of life.
Most of all, they took that life to be their own.
Now that saga has been captured in a new book called, "Coming to Stay: A
Columbia River Journey."
Written by Mary Schlick, who resided in Topboy thingyh from 1969-1975, the
book chronicles her family's experiences living on three Northwest
Indian reservations, as well as in the nation's capital.
It's a book that warmly describes daily life -- raising three children,
mounting Cub Scout projects, visiting encampments, sewing a traditional
wing dress -- as well as the overall experience of being reverential
witnesses to tribal traditions.
Mary and husband Bud Schlick, a forester who worked for the federal
Bureau of Indian Affairs, arrived on the Colville Indian Reservation in
northeast Washington in 1950 from their Iowa home.
For the next 28 years they alternated reservation life -- in Yakama,
Warm Springs, Ore., as well as Colville -- with stints in Washington,
D.C.
However, they always came back West, and it's that fascinating, and
sweet, existence that the book portrays.
"When I read the book, I had tears coming down my face," says LaRena
Sohappy of Wapato. "But not from sadness. It was from remembering all
those things she wrote about."
"I knew the book would be good," agrees Ron Washines of Topboy thingyh. "I
have complete confidence in Mary."
Explaining further, Washines says, "Knowing the Schlick family and how
involved professionally and personally with the tribe they were, that
interaction stands for itself."
Photo by Mary Schlick
Watson Totus, left, gives Bud Schlick a drumming lesson during a
longhouse ceremony in the early 1970s. Totus served as chief of the
Yakama Nation while Schlick was the Bureau of Indian Affairs
superintendent for the Yakama.
The Washines and Sohappy families are among the many familiar Yakama
names (Meninick, Yallup, Saluskin, Ike, Tomaskin, Beavert, Totus,
Smartlowit, Pinkham, Sampson, Umtuch and numerous others) woven through
the book.
From the beginning, the Schlicks adopted a happy expectancy toward their
new life in the West.
Enthusiastically diving into new -- and often mysterious -- situations,
they formed deep, abiding friendships still sustained today.
"We had an interest and willingness to be pleased," recalls Mary
Schlick, who is 81, during a recent interview from her home in Oregon.
Commenting on the ability to adapt to unique experiences, Mary notes, "I
was told that as a child I always had a look on my face that something
nice was going to happen to me that day."
And, almost always, it did.
The Schlicks were affectionately introduced to native customs on the
Colville and Warm Springs reservations, but it wasn't until they arrived
in Topboy thingyh that they faced a wealth of cultural opportunities.
That's where they found the Sahaptin language spoken, infants carried on
baby boards and holidays infused with dancing contests.
"I loved learning about the Yakamas' wonderful sense of community and
rich ceremonial life," Schlick says.
Because Bud served as Yakama superintendent, he and Mary were invited to
all ceremonial celebrations and rarely missed the chance to delve into
traditional life.
With the Yakama, they encountered many firsts: attending an Indian
name-giving ceremony, digging roots in the spring, participating in a
longhouse service and enjoying a first-foods feast.
"It was a wonderful piece of history for us," Schlick recalls. "And it
wasn't just history; it came alive with parents and grandparents and
children all participating in this richness."
Later, she would immerse herself in mastering the skill of Plateau
Indian basket making. She wrote about the art in "Columbia River
Basketry: Gift of the Ancestors, Gift of the Earth," published in 1994.
Schlick also serves as adjunct curator of American Indian collections
for the Maryhill Museum of Art in Goldendale.
The tradition of reciprocity was another early Indian lesson. She
explains, "If you're given a gift, you want to return it."
That's not an obligation. Rather "it's a deep friendship-like thing,"
she says.
That friendship went both ways.
As Washines says, "The Schlicks embraced the culture and vice versa. We
took them in as family."
The Yakamas gave Indian names to both Bud and Mary; he became
"Náutahluk," a great bird or overseer, and Mary was called
"Anipashn'mi Latiit," wild potato blossom.
Non-natives are rarely so honored.
"It's really unusual to give a name (to someone who isn't Indian),"
explains Sohappy.
"They had a great attitude toward Indians," she adds.
In turn, Mary and Bud were impressed by what they saw as the Yakamas'
extraordinary strengths.
Schlick says she particularly admires the Yakamas' ability to articulate
their beliefs.
"Even now I find it startles me how eloquent they are. They have a sense
of wholeness, of presenting themselves as who they really are," she
explains.
Recently, as Schlick looked back on her Yakama days some 30 years ago,
she remembered it as a safe, quiet, gentle time.
Sadly, it was also a time of profound loss. The Schlicks' oldest son,
Bill, died in a car accident in 1972 when he was 21.
As painful as it was, Schlick also found a lesson in the tragedy, as
manifested by her Indian friends, who take life as it comes, she says.
"For me it was good to learn that life just is," she said.
The quiet acceptance of whatever happens, the uplifting as well as the
sorrowful, has given comfort through the years.
"I wouldn't change this life for anything," she says.
"Of course, I wish I could have kept my son."
When Schlick decided she wanted to preserve the stories of her family's
experiences, she wondered if it was proper for a non-native to write
about tribal life. Propitiously, she was listening to the radio one day
when she heard a Canadian Indian say, "If you want to know us, you can't
come and visit. You have to come and stay."
And Schlick realized that it was exactly what they had done.
After leaving Topboy thingyh, they briefly lived in Washington, D.C., again
but returned happily to the West in 1978. They settled in Mount Hood,
Ore., close to both the Yakama and Warm Springs reservations. Mary still
lives there, but Bud died in 1992.
About a year ago, to find out if Yakamas would accept, and be honored,
by her book, Mary asked permission to come and read parts of it --
before it was published -- to the Sohappys, a prominent family she
portrayed.
Meeting with sisters Amelia and Viola Sohappy in the Wapato Longhouse,
she read passages aloud for more than an hour.
"They teared up once in awhile and got little smiles," Mary recalls.
When she had finished, she asked the women what they thought.
"It's OK," they told her.
Then Mary knew it was.