BIRTH AND DEATH Dale Williams Barrigar One day I stood in the summertime woods of far northwestern Wisconsin where everything still seemed green, clean. With me, an elderly Chippewa gentleman. He was from around here, like most of his ancestors; the others were German. He told me a little story about how it was in the olden days with his people and their names. He said that at the first signs of life stirring in the womb, the father would place his hand on the woman’s belly. He would feel the baby in the womb and she, the woman, would show him how to feel it. Then, he’d go out on a three-day journey into the wild places. Where he’d keep his eyes and ears open for a sign about what the name of the baby should be. An eagle with a snake in its talons. A wolf disappearing around a stretch of trees. A golden trout hanging out in the water in a special way. Or a bear standing up and looking at you. The husband would go back and tell his wife. And they’d make up the name for the baby based on this sign Nature had given them. Later, when the child was older, around ten (boy or girl), the child would make up a verse about his or her name. It would be a short little poem or song about their name that would change with the days. Why they liked life, what they were proud of and still wanted to accomplish. Because everybody did it, in their own way, it was easy to do. And they would sing their own name at important times during the day. Getting up in the morning. Before eating food, or going to sleep, or when stressed out; or terrified. No one else would ever know this verse, exactly, at least not all of it. When the warrior (woman or man) laid down for the last time, they would sing or say the verse as their spirit wafted out to join the rest of the worlds in whatever comes next.
(My thanks to Dale Williams Barrigar, via Braided Way.)
The Gentle Nudge
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THURSDAY: Poetry Pick-Me-Up (Zoom, 12:00-1:00PM Central, at this link)
My mom’s favorite singer...Frank Sinatra!
And thus...
If I don't see her each day, I miss her
Gee, what a thrill each time I kiss her
Believe me, I've got a case
On Nancy with the laughin' face
She takes the winter and she makes it summer
And summer could take a few lessons from her
Picture a tomboy in lace
That's Nancy with the laughin' face
Did you ever hear mission bells ringin'?
Well, she'll give you the very same glow
When she speaks you would think it was singin'
Just hear her say hello
I swear to goodness you can't resist her
Sorry for you, she has no sister
No angel could replace
Nancy with the laughin' face
composed in 1942 by Jimmy Van Heusen,
with lyrics by Phil Silvers,
originally recorded by Frank Sinatra in 1944
😁😆😁😆😆😁
This is such a wonderful way to name someone! I was named after my great-grandmother and my grandmother and disliked my name for it's complications in an American society and hated my nickname because of the rhymes fellow classmates would make of it. It took others saying it out loud in the country my name came from for me to come to peace with it and wear it proudly now. I'm going to have to think up a song...☺️