Noble Souls

Chapter 3

When We Get There

By Steven Walks On The Grass

I tell you sometimes things come out of nowhere and turn into something big. Yesterday here in my town, Springfield, Illinois. We had a terrible thunderstorm with devastating straight-line winds of 80-plus miles-an-hour. Many homes, vehicles and landscapes were damaged, and for many the power went out.

Before the power went out at 12:04 PM we were being warned about tornado-force winds and to seek shelter immediately. I’ve gotta say, having no power kind of freaked me out. Janice and I did the best we could. We had a couple of candles, a flashlight, and a little battery operated desk lamp. So we spent a half-hour in the closet amongst all the clothes and dirty laundry. We had our phones and little lamps and our drinks so we had a little party. We put the radio station on the phone so that we could get the emergency weather news broadcast while still able to listen to music. Yeah, we enjoyed ourselves in that closet. I wouldn’t trade that half hour for all the tea in china.

We could hear the sirens of ambulances, fire trucks, and first responders all out in those driving rains, with trees falling across the roads and power lines, making travel conditions dangerous. Those courageous men and women continued to work, to help save lives and come to the assistance of those in distress. I’m thinking to myself, these people don’t get enough credit for what they do and what they give of themselves.

And then even before the storm had passed another bunch of heroes came out in force.  You may not consider them to be first responders but I sure do. My hat goes off to the linemen and work crews from city, water, light and power. You men and women went far beyond the call of duty, placing yourselves in harm’s way, possibly in a tornado’s way, to restore power to 31,000 people. How amazing is that now?

Our power here went off at noon and we didn’t get it back on until 9:37 in the evening. Our neighbor was sitting with Janice and me outside on our porch having another “we don’t got no power or lights party” when the lights came on. I could hear voices from the whole block of apartments hooraying and cheering, so I stood up and started clapping. You didn’t hear me? No one else heard me either, except maybe Janice and then she started hooting and hollering and then we all did too. 

I feel bad for those who suffered the damage from this storm. I prayed for you at dawn this morning and I will pray for you this evening and continuously for all those affected by the trauma of this Storm. I want to thank our nurses in the hospital emergency rooms, trying to bring comfort and healing to those who were injured or sick. I know it was crazy for you guys yesterday. Bless you for your efforts. Your compassion and professionalism help bring healing and comfort to your community and to the entire state. Surely the Lord will reward you even as I applaud you.

I work as an aide at an overflow shelter housing the homeless, seeing to their needs. Sometimes there is a need to call the paramedics to help somebody in distress at the shelter. Just the other evening we had such a medical emergency. As the crew was packing their equipment and preparing to leave, I thanked each and every one of them for their service and I meant it from my heart, Thank you.

I also want to thank my family and friends for staying on top of communications yesterday, making sure that all of us are safe and sound. What a wonderful life it is when you have people that care for you. And guess what? Even if I don’t know you, I promise you I care. So, today, give someone a smile. We can all make a difference for someone. No matter how small or large the difference might be, just be a part of that difference. If we could all put aside self for one simple act, our world would be so much better. Well, I gotta go now, Janice has a honeydew list longer than my ramblings. I’ll see you later. You can count on it.

When We Get There

Creek Indians & Georgia History

A conversation with Dr. Joseph Kitchens

June 25, 2011

By Edna Peirce Dixon

Good Morning Joe,

Many times as I was growing up in Warner Robins, GA, we visited Ocmulgee National Monument – a place where I learned some mysterious people out of the past had once lived. Other than that I never heard the first mention in school about the ancient or historical Native Peoples. I now understand what is meant by “invisible” people.

When I first met Bobby Johns in high school, he told no one of his Creek ancestry – why spoil a good thing – he told me later. It was not until our paths crossed again some 43 years later that I learned of his heritage and his life mission. I did some research per his recommendation and that is what fired me up to walk his path and do what little I could to assist. We’ve come a long way the past 13+ years. I’ve learned a whole lot and am dedicated even more to helping him in his mission.

Over the years, I’ve communicated with many Creek descendants searching in vain for that elusive ancestral heritage that the old ones refused to talk openly about. I’ve learned that tracing the identity and movements of the Southeastern Indians, especially those from Georgia, is difficult and hard to prove. In today’s world proving an ancestor on the Dawes Rolls seems to be the gold standard for acceptance and recognition, but those whose ancestors avoided removal by hiding in the swamps and lying to avoid removal have a difficult time. Hopefully one day someone will open up some minds to this fact and some of this pompous foolishness about who is a real Creek and who isn’t will disappear.

Thanks so much, Joe. Your interest and effort is greatly appreciated. epd

~~~

Edna,

I have thought much on the subject of the “invisible” Creeks and share the concerns suggested in the material you sent. Perhaps I should make a stab at writing on this subject.

Creek culture is not the only victim of the decline of rural Georgia. A majority of Atlantans (according to the 2010 census) were not born in Georgia. South Georgia has declined significantly as documented by many indexes, but I believe it comes down to the reality that in some ways Atlanta’s greatness has come at the expense of the rest of the state. While I shy away from believing some conspiracy is responsible, it is clear that many wonderful and valuable cultural and natural environments are being lost. No doubt, this has happened in many other places. But, I do not live in “many other places” and my own family and personal roots lie deep in Georgia’s red clay.

One need look no further than literature to see that personal values still run deep after the tide of population and progress have passed them by. Janesse Ray’s wonderful book, Ecology of a Cracker Childhood, is a testament to the staying power of values held by those in whom nature is deeply ingrained. Jimmy Carter’s The Hornet’s Nest bears witness to the importance of history in determining one’s character.

Racism directed against the Creeks seems to have been late-blooming, and rose with the tide of African slaves brought to the cotton plantations–of which there were few before 1800. There was a necessity in a nominally Christian society to find justification for the racism that came to dominate Georgia life. Scripture and science were bent to serve this new ideology and the Creeks, along with other native peoples, began to feel the impact by the 1820s. One consequence was a virtual stampede to the west-to Mexico’s Texas territory-where there were new opportunities and mixed marriages and their children could hopefully live in peace. And, as you know many increasingly isolated pockets of Creeks and Cherokees remained behind, increasingly withdrawn and marginalized in a society where commercial agriculture and slavery seemed to crush everything in its path.  

Because a portion of the Creek nation known as the “Red Sticks,” rose to defy the United States (and Georgia) in 1812-1814, Georgians became ruthless in demanding the cession of all Indian lands. The Cherokee, who sought to duplicate the US system of government fared no better. Every move toward a male-dominated social system, commercial farming, African slavery, and political democracy only angered Georgians.  It is ironic that Georgia’s admiration for the Cherokee became pronounced only after the demise of that people and their banishment to Oklahoma. Recalling the Creeks’ hopelessly courageous stand against Andrew Jackson’s forces in the Red Stick War cast an even darker shadow over the conscience and history of Georgia. Ever since, it has been less painful to forget than to learn.

These are a few of my personal conclusions–hopefully some of them are near the truth.

Joe

Dr. Joseph H. Kitchens

Executive Director

Funk Heritage Center of Reinhardt University, 7300 Reinhardt Circle, Waleska, Georgia 30183 Direct 770-720-5966 Museum Desk 770-720-5967

Photo: Southeastern Indians – Pinterest

Like Chasing Squirrels

Chapter 2

When We Get There

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Anyone who knows me or is familiar with my book, Long Road Home, will know that my logic can be rather convoluted. I’m like that Labrador pup that jumps up and down to say, “Throw the ball, throw the ball, I’ll go Chase it!” So I run off to chase after the ball, but then I spot a squirrel! Forget the ball; I’m off to chase that squirrel. Yeah, that’s me, I tend to be flighty, jumping from one thing to another but in the end, I always seem to finish what I start. At least I try to. I don’t know what I do when I’m into something. I pretty much focus on it until I figure out how to get it finished and then I finish it.

 When I said I wanted to invite you to come along with me on this journey, I meant it. So many things have happened since I came home. I sat here trying to remember the 1st thing I did or the 1st thing Janice and I did. What the %$#@, I can’t even remember THAT and it isn’t even 3 months yet. So I’m just gonna hit on some of the cool things that I’ve observed or done and some of the not so cool things that have happened.

Let’s start with school and me getting the Vice President’s Academic Achievement Award for my college attendance and grades. I got through Spring semester with a high grade point average. To me that is amazing because I’ve been so fragile with learning everything else I need to know to live in your world. To think I could even make it through a semester of college and excel surprises even me, but hey, I’ve surprised myself before many times.

So let me tell you about my job. Yes! I finally got hired on a job in a field that I feel called to. I’m working for the Salvation Army as an aide in an overflow homeless shelter. This job entails helping homeless people by processing them into the shelter, seeing that they’re fed, clothed, given showers if they wish, and a place to sleep in a safe environment. Ironically enough, the entire system that houses these homeless people seems to function without too many hitches. In the short time I’ve been working there I’ve found the staff I work with to be compassionate and caring people who really and truly want to help make this world a better place. For that I applaud you all.

You would be amazed by the people you can meet and the stories you will hear from these homeless people. Astounding. Even in my darkest hours I never had it as bad as some of them. I’ve never had to choose between medication or food, between shelter or exposure to the elements. Hearing stories about people in horrible situations saddens me but they also convince me that my cause, my desire to help make this world a better place, is valid.  While the people I’m working with are helping me learn how to better serve in this position, in my job, I still wish I could do so much more. Some of these things break my heart, mostly how people in the world treat them.

Anyway, not long ago I purchased an electric bike so I’ll have transportation to get to school and work. This thing is amazing. It will go thirty four miles an hour and has a fifty-mile range. Not everybody is thrilled about me being out in traffic with this thing and it didn’t take long for me to find out about rude drivers on the roads. It seems that some people really don’t know how to drive and one almost got me killed last week. As I started across an intersection with a green light, this guy suddenly swerved from the right lane into the left lane and turned directly in front of me. I had the green light and so did he, but he did not have the right of way and had no business switching lanes like that.  The guy claimed he didn’t see me. How could he not see me? My bike is as big as a motorcycle and I’m not a small man needless to say. Luckily, I saw him and locked up the brakes. The bike stopped on the dime it was guaranteed to stop on. I dumped it in the process, pulling my hamstring and bruising myself up pretty bad but I’m alive and for the next week my beautiful Janice nursed me back to health.  

So this week, I go to work doing 8-hour shifts. Janice was waiting outside to pick me up when I got off at 2 AM. As I came out my foot hit a broken piece of concrete in the sidewalk that’s badly in need a repair and down I go again, reinjuring the hamstring. Right now I’m laying here in my bed with my leg on a heating pad, then it will be back to the ice pack. Hot cold hot cold hot cold like my mom and my wife insist I must do. Seems like everybody knows what to do but me; all I get to do is lay here and hurt. I don’t die easy so I’ll be all right but one thing is for sure, I don’t heal as fast as I used to. Guess I’m getting old.

I’ve never had a job before that I really wanted to go to. Now when I walk in the doors at work, my heart feels good, my soul feels like I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m trying to help people. That’s all I need to do – love God, stay true to my course doing the right thing every time, and all will be well. I can’t help but think that maybe I’m on the right track. I know I am! Everything in my life right now seems better since I got this job, since I’m able to work in the field I want to be in just helping people who need help. So here I am laying in my bed waiting until the last moment to take a shower and get ready so that I can go to work. At the moment, I can barely walk but I will get through that shift. If I don’t I may have missed a chance to help someone and I never want to miss that chance again.

Lots of other things going on but I’ll tell you about them later. Now I need to change the heating pad for an ice pack. And by the way, for the idiot that doesn’t know how to make a left turn and not run in front of people, I forgive you but some people are just too stupid to drive.

When We Get There

Finding An Authentic Life

By Edna Peirce Dixon

Just read an article on my Daily Stoic email titled, “How Not To Be Afraid of Critics.” Something in the very first paragraph about feeling like an imposter really grabbed me and it made me wonder how many of us live our lives feeling like frauds, hiding our innermost thoughts for fear of being harshly judged if people knew who we really are.

This was certainly me for much of my life. Always the curious observer, I understood early on that things are not always as they seem to be or ought to be, yet I was afraid to take the risk of asking too many questions or venturing into uncharted territory. No rebel here, I just went along obediently, trying to fit into a world I didn’t understand. Much later, with my forties approaching, a discontent arose deep inside. I had no vision for a fulfilling future after the family nest was empty and I began to wonder, “Is this all there is?”

Looking back, I see how I protected my fragile ego and tried to live up to the expectations of most everyone I knew. All the while I knew I was not being true to myself, yet I didn’t know where or how to ask for help. So I just withdrew and tried to figure things out on my own: questioning, exploring, seeking, listening to many voices, from scholars to teachers of ancient wisdoms, in search of common threads that made sense.

As new revelations, inspiration, and insights came my way and settled into my personal way of being, I began to set goals and pursue them. I also faced some troublesome doubts and concerns with my spiritual underpinnings and made the decision to follow my conscience. Afraid to face the judgment I knew was sure to come, I kept most of my deeper thoughts to myself and avoided attachments. Oh, I envied my friends’ happy sense of community, but that was not for me. The more I pulled away, the more I felt like an outsider, peeking through cracks in the fences of life. Ever mindful of the abundant blessings I have received in my life, I still chose to walk my spiritual path alone.

Then one day, that wee small voice, that Spirit, that inner urging, “That of God within” as my ancestors would have said, rose up, kicked me out of ego-protection mode and sent me tumbling pell mell into a world I could never have imagined. Perhaps this was to be my “Spirit Quest,” like trekking into the desert alone to find out who you are. Suddenly with not the least resistance, I found myself stepping blindly into the dark world that looms behind high walls, iron bars and razor wire.

Now an elder of 75 years, I found myself in daily communication with first one and then two middle-aged Native American men who had been incarcerated for most of their lives. What was I thinking? Some of my friends reasoned that this was a ministry. No, not that. One proclaimed on social media that I was a fool. She later apologized, not because she was sorry, but because her religion said it was a sin to call anyone a fool. Some were kind and supportive. Others said nothing. I don’t know what they thought. Me, I had no clue. I just answered a call and made a choice knowing I would not, could not back down.

This was a life lesson. I was there to learn and what an education it was! As the next 10 years rolled by, my naïve and complacent mind would be constantly battered by the harsh realities of the cold and violent world these men lived in. There were beautiful lessons as well. The first being a clear affirmation of the idea that if you intentionally seek the good in yourself or another person – or as my ancestors would say, “that of God in every [wo]man” – you most likely will find it.

This I know: When that Spark of Spirit lights up someone’s darkness just because you came, you surely will be blessed by the reflected light.

So now that I was here, what was I to do? Most certainly these gentlemen and I were all cautiously curious. Trust does not come easy. I was interested in learning and full of questions, so we found lots to talk about and we began building trust through daily emails. It amazed me to learn the level of love, brotherhood and devotion both these men shared when speaking of their spiritual lives and Native communities throughout the federal prison system. In the moment, despite blatant prejudice and reluctance of chaplain’s staff to provide for their needs, I walked with these two as they faithfully held their sweat lodge and prayer ceremonies as best they could. Just as other brothers had encouraged them, the intention of the Spiritual group was to teach and guide each troubled brother back to their Native traditions, toward a better path than the one that brought them there.

Other than my love of stringing words together to make cohesive sentences, this old white woman didn’t have much to offer. But the kind and loving Spirit of Creator as they lived it in their daily lives touched my heart. The insights I received into a beautiful way of life and the sacrifices made to honor our Creator even in the midst of unspeakable evil needed to find a voice. So these two friends pecked out their messages in a rough prison email system. I corrected the typos, polished things up a bit, and together we shared so many important experiences, thoughts, teachings, poems, songs and compelling life stories with a wider world.

Wise ones say that when you seek your tribe or your calling with good intentions, the way will open before you. It just takes longer for some of us to find our place. Walking my own true path has been a journey in itself. I still stumble sometimes, but my greatest goal is to rise above that defensive ego and master the art of living with a heart of loving kindness. Only in service to others who have suffered far more than I ever could have imagined did I even begin to heal, to learn how to love unconditionally, and finally find my authentic voice.

The wonderful, crazy thing is I don’t worry if people like me or not. What matters is whether I like me or not! That keeps the ego in check right there. I like to believe that my ancestors, my parents, my husband, children, and grandchildren, friends, and my Creator have all taken note that I’ve finally come around to a new, more authentic me and I hope they like what they see.

A special message:

Ghost Dancer and Walks On The Grass, my two beloved teachers, I will be forever grateful to you both. In your separate journeys, each of you has endured the worst kinds of hell but you kept your faith and you’ve come through with your beautiful souls intact. At last you are home among people who love and respect you and I pray you have many wondrous days ahead.

Walks, We have talked about how you lost your Mom while you were in prison. I know that loss hurt your heart so deeply. Call it fate but we now know your mother and I are distant cousins. Somehow, I believe it makes her as happy as it does me that I want to claim her precious boy as one of my own. Now you, Steven Walks have joined the clan that calls me “Mom” and I feel so blessed for it. How cool is that for an 85-year-old?

So, from Nat King Cole’s Nature Boy to each of you, I send this old familiar reminder, “And while we spoke of many things, fools and kings, this he said to me: The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.”

Mvto mvhayv vnokeckē

It’s Time

Learning to Love & Live In a Free World

Chapter 1

When We Get There

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Hello World! It’s been a while, I know. I missed you a lot by the simple fact that I haven’t had you to talk to but I know that’s okay.  You are still there and I’m still here. For those of you who have read my book, Long Road Home, you know who I was, you know what I was, and you know who I want to be. Let me take you with me now while I become who I will be. Come, sit down. I’ll make coffee and we’ll catch up. I’ll tell you all that’s going on, how I’ve gotten to this very moment.

Right now, I’m lying on my bed talk-texting this first chapter on my phone. I say it’s the 1st chapter but actually it isn’t even a chapter. It’s an invitation because I need you here with me so we can talk and I can tell you all my thoughts and feelings and experiences since my rebirth as a free man learning to love and live in a world that mysteriously changed over the years yet somehow stayed the same. I’ve got a feeling, at least I hope, you’re gonna want to stick around after you’ve heard a bit about how this life is unfolding.

It’s 10 months now that I’ve been “home.” Well, actually less than 3 months since I’ve been “at home” on home confinement. Let me tell you, the whole world still amazes me with its beauty and kindness and in its anger and selfishness and cruelty. But that’s not the part I’m going to talk about. Part of my talk will be about the things that have happened since I’ve been home, the evolution of life with my beautiful Janice from the moment she got here. As soon as I stepped into her arms, we both knew this would be the rest of our stories for the rest of our lives together. This miracle came to pass and we are where we are supposed to be – in each other’s arms. We can’t hold each other tight enough but learning to live with one another is truly enlightening.

If you remember, back in January I enrolled in college. My ambitions and persistent PTSD and OCD caused me to place too much stress on myself in relation to grades and all the silly things that didn’t matter. In chasing academic excellence I almost lost sight of the reason I was there to begin with – to learn. Everything is hinged on tomorrows for me now. We have our own place now. Janice turned an empty shell into a warm and cozy home. In fact, of all the places I’ve ever lived, in all the times in my life before I went to prison, nothing comes close. I’ve never been as comfortable as I am in this apartment just knowing that she’s here or we’ll be back or that I’ll go home and she’ll be there. I can’t tell you what that means; it’s just another shade of love and it amazes me.

I think I talked before about wanting to go into the field of counseling and assistance. That goal has evolved through my human services course in college which required doing community service. So I went into a homeless shelter, told them about myself and explained why I wanted to volunteer my services. “Oh yes! Thank you,” the lady said, “Thank you so much for coming in.” She made me feel like I would be a real asset to their program and said they would get back with me.  Then nothing…not even after I called back to check.

After a few weeks I told my professor about the problem with doing my community service. Of course, I got scratched once they found out I’m a convicted felon and a federal inmate. She understood, said she knew just the people for me and sent me to HUC, Homeless United for Change. I called my contact lady, explained who I was, who had sent me, and what I needed to do. At the time I was able to visit the apartment for a few hours each week, so she graciously agreed to come by with her husband to meet Janice and me and discuss the possibility of my doing community service with HUC. Turned out, they had a feeding coming up at The Salvation Army homeless shelter and they asked me to come and do my community service by taking surveys and interacting with some of the clients to find out what their basic needs were and what needs were not being met.

After my service that evening, taking surveys and helping as much as I could, I went back to the halfway house. The next day, I was offered the volunteer job of Chief Advocacy Officer for Homeless United for Change. This became my new banner, a cause in which I could fight for something that mattered for people who couldn’t fight for themselves. Seems like this is what I’ve always been doing ever since my life changed; I’ve wanted to help change the lives of others. I want them to see the beauty I see in the world – a world that really offered me nothing but s*** up until my release from prison. If that sounds soft, so be it. I am soft. But one thing was not taken from me during 37 years of captivity, 7 1/2 years in solitary confinement, numerous beatings, and daily physical and verbal abuses by prison staff – my compassion for those who suffer – or my hatred for a bully.

Janice and I soon got to know Dave and Linda Gessaman from HUC very well. They are both pastors and have a ministry at a small church in a little town near here. When they invited Janice and me to come to a service, we went and could see what they were doing was wonderful with what they had to work with. Afterward I asked about a music program that didn’t seem to really exist. Yeah, they told me they needed some help. Me being me I asked what I could do to help. Be careful what you ask for unless you’re prepared and you truly want to help. I was and I did. I soon found myself the minister of the music program at the Body of Christ Church, Buffalo, Illinois as well as the Chief Advocacy Officer for Homeless United for Change.

Now to be sure, I’m a Native American and I still practice our traditional ways. I’m outside before dawn every day with my eagle feathers praying to the Creator, giving thanks for the new day and the promise of what the day can bring if we only do the next right thing. The Body of Christ Church didn’t see anything other than a person who was trying to be good and do good, who was likable and helpful. How amazing this was to me! How refreshing, how invigorating, and how enabling to find people willing to give me a second chance before they really knew everything there was to know about the first chance I had totally blown.  I don’t want this to sound like some sort of advertisement for churches or causes or sociological problems or institutions that need reform. I’m just trying to talk with you and tell you a story, even if it is non-fiction.

Since we walked in the door of this apartment, my mom has helped us get on our feet, get things that we really needed. After all, we are starting from scratch. Janice came with what she could bring, that’s it and it was enough for she brought herself back to me! God, how I missed her. It’s now time for a new life to start for us. All the old stuff is just history, maybe not forgotten but definitely forgiven; that’s what love does. It can erase all that came before and make you see what is right in front of you and treasure what you have.

By the way, Betsy, we’ve never met but I know so much of you from someone we both hold dear. I want you to know I’ve been nipping around the edges of starting to write again at the insistence of those who love me, my mom, your sister, and my editor. But your email to your sister in relation to my book is what made me start today. I’ll tell you what I told Janice and my mom, It’s Time.

When We Get There
Long Road Home

Adopted By The Wind

Step Into the Light

February 26, 2023
Walks & Janice enjoying a college concert

A full and busy month has passed since my last entry. At this moment my six-months point at the halfway house is just two days away. On February 28, 2023, I will be eligible to go to home confinement. While we are still waiting for the administration here to approve my apartment, I am confident it will be done as Janice has transformed an empty shell into a warm and welcoming home. Paperwork will then be passed along to Chicago for final approval, then I will pack my bags and walk out the door to complete my final 6 months with the Bureau of Prisons before my parole begins. And so the story comes to close just when you thought you were rid of me.

But not so fast my friends. I need to tell you a few things before I go. So come along with me this early morning before the sun rises, before I’ve said my prayers, and before I’ve thanked the Creator for each and every one of you, and said goodbye so that very soon I’ll be able to say hello again.

Many years ago, or so it seems at this moment, I started a journey to document my Long Road Home. Today, in this moment, it will come to a close. But I want to tell you something before I leave you for a moment. I want to express my gratitude that sacred winds have blown me across your path and you across mine, that the Creator has placed my words before your eyes.

You’ve read them. Some of you may have laughed, even scoffed at me, but some of you have laughed and cried with me. Some of you have felt my pain and confusion, my sorrow and yes, shared my joys. All the while, the winds of fortune have been at my back and before I go, I wish to speak of them:

Strong spiritual winds blew me across the path of Sings Many Songs and she has walked beside me on my path. Now the winds of providence and kinship have given me to this woman; she knows my heart and has adopted me as her son. What more can I say? I love you Mom.

Thankfully, gentle winds followed my beautiful Janice as she made her way home in the dead of winter. Janice has travelled through time to bring herself back to me and her heart that never left. My love for her has endured for thousands of years and will surely endure for thousands more.

My brother, Bob and his wife Babs, and all their family have given me hope, trust and a chance to show them what I couldn’t show them in the past. My nieces Andrea and Amber, my nephew, Josh and his wife Anna, welcomed me. Oaf and Jesse and Aaron as well. And my great niece, Vanessa with your kind and loving heart – what a magnificent spirit you carry.

My brother Mike and his beautiful wife Karen, the Irish spitfire. . .I didn’t know they had Maisenbacher’s that came out of Ireland but he found one and managed to marry her and she certainly enriched this clan.

My sister, Leontien, strong winds carried us seven thousand miles to join us as brother and sister. You have graciously given me your family and I give you my love and devotion forever.

Paints On The Rocks and your beautiful Karen, how do I tell you how much you’ve given to me with your sage words and your cutting humor? You’re always on point with your view of the world as it is.

My little brother, David Martinez, your beautiful Jessica and little Oscar and the kids. You taught me that to give a man his culture, his heritage and his tradition was the greatest gift I could give to myself. In bringing a man back to the red path and teaching you about the ways and heritage of our people, I placed myself in front of the sun with my arms open, my face up to the Creator. I begged for another red and blue day as a warrior and one who would not surrender. For this opportunity I thank you.

Butch Reno and your beautiful Angie, you have shown me that real friendship does not die even after 25 years. Friends are just there when you need them. No questions. Butch, since our reunion the music in the winds has been clearly heard in your creative genius. When we sat down again to make music together, the magic was still there.

Patty, I don’t even know what to say about you. You blew into my life like a cyclone and your generosity of spirit is amazing. I can’t imagine not knowing you. I tell you pretty much every day you’re the bomb, chick. Janice and I love you and we always will.

Stephanie, how amazing and beautiful you are. Janice and I adopted you; we didn’t even give you a choice. You just rolled with it like your spirit — a gentle breeze that can become a tempest when provoked. We’re so glad you didn’t buck. Without your help, you and I both know I wouldn’t be where I am now academically. Yes I am a BRAINIAC! hahaha. 

Throughout my Long Road Home, the winds of time have carried so many kind souls across my path I can’t possibly name everyone. I will remember you all and I thank you for touching my life. So with these words I close the book on my past so I can begin anew. You all have given me hope and understanding that cannot be replaced. This morning, in the darkest hours, as I think about the past few years, I need to tell you I owe you my life, for you have given me mine. You have given me something I never felt I would have again – a family, people who love me for who I am, for the man I have become. For this I thank you from the bottom of my warrior’s soul!

Now, in these wee hours, I wish I could just go to bed, but midterms are coming up and I have bell curves to bust, so study I must. . .

Until we meet again. . .

Just remember, I am Walks On The Grass and I never surrendered.

Espokee

Cons and Pros

Step Into the Light


January 26, 2023

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Ever had friends that would talk about someone behind their back and you would find out from the very same person that they had talked bad about you too? See how the cycle perpetuates itself? Personally, I think anybody that knowingly does harm to another person whether physical or emotional, or any other kind and does not try to fix it, is dead wrong.

Same thing can be said for loyalties to friends, loved ones, beliefs, or aspirations for oneself. Too many times I have seen people proclaim to be one way, then turn right around and act exactly the opposite. I believe that if you give someone your friendship and you invest personal interest in that person and then they lose sight of that fact, that you, like them, should completely turn your back and act like they never exist again. It’s pretty harsh isn’t it? I’ve seen people I care about hurt like this several times in the past two weeks and it just irks me. Sorry but that’s the way it is.

Otherwise, I’ve had some stellar events happen in the last couple of weeks. In fact, academically I am surpassing even what I could have expected in a lot of ways. Largely this is due to a tutor I have now. Her name is Stephanie and she’s both brilliant and beautiful. What a wonderful young woman. As a single mom, she raised her son pretty much on her own and now she is working on earning a BS degree. Stephanie is a whiz with the computer and helps make ends meet by tutoring other students.

Stephanie really takes the time to help me understand how to navigate the system and has been more help than I ever expected anyone could be. I’m trying to drink it all in. Sometimes there’s way too much information for my pea brain to a grasp but when I do catch on, it’s usually well within the realms of my capabilities, whatever the heck they are. Smile. Anyway, I’ve managed to turn in all my assignments on the computer program and so far I’ve got a 4.0 grade average.

Heck, I’d have been happy to walk out with C’s; now I’m aiming higher. And to think my mind was capable of doing this college thing and I could have started 20 years ago and been on the right path then. That’s an awful lot of years to get from there to here. Yet here we are… I hope living, loving and laughing, growing and enjoying life. I’m pretty sure of that. Just as I’m sure that I’m Walks On The Grass and I Will Never Surrender.

Long Road Home

Hit the Gas

Step Into the Light

January 20, 2023

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Well fans and music lovers what a week of fun and frolic I have had. Let’s see, since I last talked to you I have done nothing but study. Like I said last week, I’m so grateful for the courtesy and true caring shown by the staff and this week I can give more examples.

Using my computer was still so new to me that I got confused and I had to ask for tutoring to catch up on my online assignments. All assigned work must be turned in online through Lincoln Land’s own site called “Canvas” and within that, each student has their own site and email address.

This week, Ms. E. of Accessibility Services at Lincoln Land went way out of her way to help me understand how the computer works and to navigate the program I must use for all assigned class work. She will continue to let me work in her office so she can give me the help I need until I’m all caught up and my skills are strong enough for me to keep up.

I also have a personal email – stevenwalks07@gmail.com – and if you wish, feel free to contact me at any time. I’m free and open for discussion on anything that I say here. I promise you I say only what I believe be the truth to the best of my understanding at the time.  if I’m wrong I’ll readily tell you I was wrong.

Now, this is what I have found out: The truth CAN help you! Simple enough statement, five words, but what you don’t see is what lies underneath, that is, having to relearn your way of thinking in order to ask for help rather than fail. Seems like not everybody can do that. I know, I was one of them but I’ve learned to ask and I’ve learned to accept graciously and humbly.

Let me tell you something. When I stepped out of prison I thought I had all the answers to all the questions and all the solutions to all the problems that I would encounter in this free world. That is really what I thought, but I was wrong. You rapidly learn when you have no choice, just as you will swim if you have no choice; it’s in our makeup to survive. So I chose to ask for the help that I’m getting now and I choose to continue to fight to get it down. I have found since being free that you have to struggle every day in order to keep that day in line. You have to do all the things that need to be done for yourself, by yourself.

Now that’s not necessarily everything of course, we all have things provided for us on a daily basis that we need to use or enjoy … and usually those providers are who? What? Oh! Our women! Bingo! right answer. It’s not that dudes won’t help people because of course they do, but it just seems to me, from my viewpoint, the women who are in my life or close to my heart or that I see here, they’re all helping people. They help themselves, their families and their loved ones, even people they don’t know. They may know a little bit about them or not, but if you’re able to ask or they perceive the need in you for assistance, heck, most of the time you don’t even have to ask.

This is Amber, the campus dog with her partner on the campus police. I like this little dog and talk to her all the time. When she sees me she will come and her little butt starts wiggling and her tail wagging. She makes me feel happy. So, everybody stay safe, stay loved, stay your wonderful selves.

Just like I am, Walks On The Grass, I Will Never Surrender.

Long Road Home by Steven Walks On The Grass

Learning Curve

Step Into the Light

January 13, 2023

By Steven Walks On The Grass

Considering all that’s gone on I’m sure I could have gotten away with not writing an entry in my journal this week – or whatever such nonsense we’re going to call it now. Me, I don’t care what we call it; I’m just getting my thoughts out there. You see, I hit the speed bumps of academia this week. Let me put this in a little more positive way…my whole world has changed in one week…just another facet and I am really digging college.

Now as you may know, I started with a full load, meaning I signed up for 12 credit hours or four classes. Two of these were big prerequisite classes with a whole lot of reading and other assignments. Actually three of them are, so once I realized this was just too much, I decided to drop one class this semester. With me being me, I had bitten off more than I could chew but instead of being the old me and just trying to fight my way through it, I have now grown into the realization this is not a race. I’m in it for the long haul, so I’ll do whatever I have to do to ensure my success.

I’ll pick up the mandatory Introduction to Sociology class another semester. I still have my Introduction to Human Services, Public Speaking, and Music Appreciation for a nine-credit semester. Anyone who has been through college or are going to college already knows you have to be prepared to work. Learning requires a lot of work, especially when it’s geared towards something you’ve dreamed of for years and years and prepares you for something you want to do with your life.

I want to say this about Lincoln Land Community College: Go Loggers! This school is amazing. The staff in every department I’ve encountered has been more than helpful; it’s obvious they care about their students. What they don’t care about is race, creed, color, religious background, or past life issues. Trust me on this; I know. Staff members who know my story have done everything possible to encourage, advise and assist me in any way they can to make it possible for me to get off to a good start.

When you’ve been through as many jungles and battles and hell holes as I have, one thing you learn is human behavior and how to read people. This is what keeps you alive in those places out here in your world, it lets you read sincerity in others.

Here’s one example of the kindness I find here. Yesterday I forgot and left my lunch at the center. I’m a diabetic so I needed to eat and I was feeling it. I knew I had to find food so I asked one of the Student Success ladies. The Student Life supervisor, Leslie, sent me to the Student Life Food Pantry. The young lady there had me fill out a form, then gave me a can of Hearty Campbell’s Chicken and Noodles, a bag of chips and a granola bar. The food was exactly what I needed. But what I needed even more was the grace of these women who handled the situation, the dignity they allowed me to keep even when I had to humble myself and ask for help. In no way did they make me feel like a beggar; they made me feel like somebody they wanted to help and they were happy to do it.

My professors have all gone out of their way to help me as well. They all know I have no computer skills, that I must learn how to navigate the system so I can get through all my assignments. I have an appointment coming up with the lady who handles accommodations for people like me who have special needs but maybe don’t want or know how to ask. The college has faith in every student and a willingness to invest their time, care, and efforts into them. Seems I fit right into that category.

Right now I’m sitting in the library writing this. How cool is that? The person who started out writing on a simple prison email computer not long ago has now become me kicked back in this beautiful chair surrounded by a wealth of knowledge and information – a whole library full of books that I can now read when and if I choose.

Talk about Stepping Into the Light!

I’m just glad I was able to teach myself to read and then figure out for myself what else I needed to do in order to get to where I am now. That’s change. I don’t know why I can’t be as proud of myself as those who love me are. I guess I won’t be able to really feel a sense of accomplishment until I’ve actually done what I need to do to get through this and get to the point where I can talk to the first person that needs help and try to be that help.

Today I dropped off a copy of Long Road Home at the Creative Writing Center to be reviewed by the professor there. The woman who was gracious enough to accept the manuscript to pass along asked how much I had written. I told her I wrote all of it and in fact I had written four books only I was told they’re not four books, they’re four parts of the same book. Then I explained to her how that decision was made for me by Sings Many Songs and my beautiful, loving Janice. And why would they bother to ask me? Asking me would just led to a bunch of me acting like a baby and saying, “No! It’s four books, it’s four books, it’s four books” when in actuality, it’s all the same story, my story, and it’s my gift to you.

I hope maybe one sentence will resonate with you, one pain or anguish or hurt or let down or self-reflection will help you through something that you’re going through. To me that’s what it’s all about. That’s why I’m not trying to sell it but will gladly give it away to as many people as will read it in the hopes of helping just one person. That will validate everything I’ve been through in the past as well as all I’m going through now and I’m so blessed to be a part of. Maybe when it has all been said and done and I can sit across some desk or stand in front of a group of people and actually help one person, it will all have been worth it.

Another blessing worth more than any money is the love of the people that help me and have faith in me. I would rather cut my hand off than let them down. I’m learning how to navigate the computer. I’m learning how to get to my lessons. So far I still can’t quite figure out how to submit the dang things. I guess that’s why I have some appointments with tutors…finally I learned how to ask.

And for that I will give thanks to two beautiful women; they know who they are. To me they define beauty and grace, goodness and caring; they restored my faith in humanity, but even more importantly, they restored my faith in myself. There was a time I damn sure thought it was over with; for a minute I thought it was all going to be too much. They made me back up and focus…take a look at myself and my stubborn willful ways, determined to not ask for help when help was exactly what I needed. They taught me how to ask without feeling shame and never once have they made me feel shame because I need help.

Amazingly enough this entire academic Institution — Lincoln Land Community College — is showing the same grace, kindness and willingness to help me help myself so that maybe, just maybe, someday I can help someone else.

The one thing you can count on, I’m Walks On The Grass and I Will Never Surrender.

Long Road Home by Steven Maisenbacher

Truth Does Not Live in a Vacuum

2023 – new & deeper meaning found in old musings

By Edna Peirce Dixon

September 23, 2018

Truth is an enigma. Like water, truth gives life

And yet truth holds the power to destroy life.

Tempered with love, truth is a powerful tool

It heals wounds and restores broken spirits.

Like a knife forged from tempered steel

Truth can cut away the bonds of pain and suffering.

Yet when raised in anger, truth becomes a weapon.

Like a knife driven into the heart, it destroys life.

Truth sometimes hides out in a magic box

Just sitting there beside the paths of life.

It is not our box or even our truth,

But its power compels. Just a peek; what can it hurt?

All-consuming flames of bitter truth leap out, overwhelm

Whispering truths an innocent heart should never hear.

Truths, once learned, can never be unlearned

Now burned, face aflame, the curious must carry the burden.

Should the alarm bells be rung, sounding a warning?

Or would it be wiser to bury the box of fiery destruction

And trust life-giving waters of truth, tempered with love

To extinguish its flame, heal wounds, restore broken spirits?

e. p. dixon © September 23, 2018

Reflection:

Wish I could understand why this new reflection must be so bittersweet, but it is. Sometimes even loving kindness can become the source of sorrow. When you least expect it another’s truth can be twisted into the very knife that breaks your heart of joy. For a moment you wonder if it would have been better to just walk on by and never have opened the box at all?

Curiosity is a risk most dare not take. Rather these seek safe harbor and find contentment there. For them, this is enough.

As for me, a resounding NO!

With each coming day I will continue to cheer for the unfolding triumphs of one precious soul who waited too long alone in the dark, wondering if he would ever find his way, seeking only the light of simple loving kindness.

Despite the singed hair, the hard lessons, and even the pain in my heart, I have no regret. Disappointments aside, taken in stride, my heart will continue to rejoice. Isn’t this all that really matters?

Sings Many Songs