Floyd's Memorial - Friday Night

After checking in to my hotel room and pulling on a long skirt, I jumped back into my personal buffalo and headed to Pine Ridge, South Dakota. I didn't have a plan, just thought I'd meet up with Maja and Solo if they were still there. Where is there? There, in this case, was the Middle School Gymnasium. It was a bit smaller than the High School Gymnasium, where Grandma had her memorial service in 2001, but it was in the same educational complex. Despite not having been in the Rez since Grandma Zona passed, I still remembered the roads to take and drove up without problems, parking and entering the building. 

Inside, my Lekshi, Scotty Brown Eyes, was at the microphone. Tradition dictates a series of invited speakers, and then an open mike all night so that whoever wants to share a memory or anecdote can get up and share with the Oyate (the People). During busier times of the day, there is usually a loose agenda. Scotty was acting as ringleader this time, introducing David Snowball from Southern Wisconsin, to speak and share his memories of my brother, Floyd. 

Late in his talk I noticed a tall, lanky Lakota man come in, a bundle cradled in his arm. He walked to the front row, taking a corner seat and shaking a few hands as he entered. He was Arvol Looking Horse, spiritual leader of the Lakota People and caretaker of the Sacred White Buffalo Calf bundle. After David was finished, Scotty introduced Arvol who shook out his double-layered eagle feather headdress, and after casually putting it on, walked to the front and began speaking. 

Chief Arvol Looking Horse, spiritual leader of the Lakota People and
caretaker of the Sacred White Buffalo Calf bundle came and spoke
at Floyd's memorial on Friday night. Arvol and I have crossed paths
many times over the past thirty+ years I've been involved with the
Lakota people. It's always an honor to meet him again. 

Arvol spoke for more than a half-hour in a combination of Lakota and English. He spoke about many things, but primarily about Floyd's work with the Treaty Council. The Sioux have been fighting to get their treaty rights for more than a century now. The people have never cashed in the money "paid" to them for the Black Hills because they never accepted that this foreign government had rights to "purchase" the land. According to the Treaty, large portions of North and South Dakota as well as some parts of Nebraska and Wyoming were Indian Land forever. Of course, that was before gold was found in the Black Hills, after which time the treaty became another piece of toilet paper - worthless. 

Chief Arvol Looking Horse wore his headdress when he addressed
the people at Floyd's memorial. It was to honor Floyd as a leader
of the people and one who dedicated his life to them. 

Arvol spoke about Floyd's work with the Treaty Council, as well as his work with the people as a spiritual leader and guide for the people. He spoke about the long history he shared with Floyd and the people of Pine Ridge, and led the people in a prayer at the end. After I resumed my seat on the lowest rise of the Western bleacher, near David Snowball, Arvol removed and rewrapped his headdress and walked down our side, shaking hands with the drummers and then with several men and, finally, with me, before leaving the gymnasium. It was an honor to see him again and to shake his hand. 

Shortly afterward I decided it would be wise to return to Chadron and get some sleep. My brother would be buried the next day and I knew it would be a hard and long day. I left, reversing my drive from earlier in the day. Almost as soon as I had passed the Reservation border, it started to rain. The rain turned heavier as I continued my one-hour drive, but it was the lightning that was so amazing. It was constant, and it lit up the skies all around me. Great forks of lightning, and light behind cloudbanks brightening whole sections of the sky. I knew my brother was dancing, celebrating being joined once more with his friends and relations. He was dancing his last dance in the sky and it was remarkable to see. The storm accompanied me almost all the way to the hotel, passing to my rear as I drove the final twenty miles or so. It was magic. 

The entire sky was as bright as day, on and off as I drove home. It was
like a cloud press conference with flash bulbs constantly going off.
It was amazing, and I just knew that Floyd was dancing with his
relations in the skies above me. It must have been a good drum, because
he was dancing hard in his yellow and black Champion Dancer outfit,
celebrating his life. 

I'll continue tomorrow, and the Saturday may end up taking two days of posts. Hard to say for sure. I'll put in what photos I can, but I didn't take photos of this trip - it would have been disrespectful, and I've been taught better than that. So, I'll put in what I can, but I will have to hope that my words will be enough picture for you, my readers. Have a wonderful Tuesday and be good to each other. I'll be back tomorrow.