James M. Redwine

Friends

Cats and Dogs

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The American Veterinary Medicine Association estimated that as of 2021 Americans had 77 million dogs and 58 million cats as domestic pets. If you currently own or have owned a pet you know the downs and ups of pet ownership, such as having to walk them in blizzards, feed and water them, clean up after them and pay veterinary bills. Or, as Peg might say, “You know, sort of like a husband.”

On the other hand, you could eschew organic pets and buy a pet rock. Pet rocks were marketed first by Gary Dahl (1936-2015). He came up with the idea while sitting in a tavern in California in 1975. Is anyone surprised the Genesis of such an idea occurred in the land of fruits and nuts? But Dahl had the last laugh as he made enough money selling what anybody could pick up for free to buy a tavern in Los Gatos (The Cats), California. Dahl named his bar Carry Nations to mock the prohibitionist Carrie Nation (1846-1911).

Dahl’s friends were constantly complaining about vet bills, the cost of dog and cat food and having to clean up after their pets. Dahl advertised his pet rocks as needing no maintenance and they never die. Also, Gentle Reader, if you, as have I, ever owned a beloved pet you know the very real sense of loss a whole family and often friends too experience when a long-time pet dies from a lingering illness or even worse when a sudden and unexpected loss, say being hit by a car, occurs.

Peg and I just did not want to go through such a trauma again after we lost Haley, our schnauzer. So we no longer have a dog or a cat although we have had several of each. It also hurts when friends or family lose their pets. We know there is nothing we can do to assuage the heartache but, I hope, we listen attentively and neither discount the loss or, much worse, say, “Get on with things, it was just an animal.” I am aware there are many other pets that people are fond of besides cats and dogs. However, a very high majority of domestic pets are dogs and cats.

Just last week one of our nieces lost a long-time good friend, Richard Parker the Cat, and another good friend of ours lost a one-time stray cat that he named Marvin after he had allowed the waif into his home. Both our niece and our friend felt the heavy body blow and now know all any of us can do is commiserate and encourage the owners to concentrate on the joy Richard Parker and Marvin brought with them when they slowly worked into family status.

Another well-meaning but counter-productive bit of advice we often give family and friends who lose a beloved pet is, “I know it hurts now, but perhaps you should get another cat right-a-way.” While we probably do not believe animals are interchangeable, our niece and friend might take our sympathy for a lack of appreciation of the pet’s unique qualities. We could not even fathom such advice for a lost child but somehow we sometimes let loyal pets be thought of as we might widgets in an Econ class.

So, what do we say and do when a family member or a good friend loses a good pet? I suggest we can affirm their deep commitment to the pet by listening and help to fill the gap with shared activities or just a quiet cup of coffee. And of course, here at JPeg Osage Ranch, while we no longer have cats or dogs, we do have skunks, armadillos and various other not so cuddly uninvited guests!

 

Memorial Day

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My earliest memories of Memorial Day involved hot cemeteries where all the adult women spent a great deal of time loudly hushing all the children and the few men in attendance furtively smoked cigarettes while shifting from foot to foot. Any attempt by me or my brother, Philip, to chase butterflies or engage in horseplay was met with stern stares and an occasional knock on the head or a swat on the tail.

Mother had three brothers and one sister who had served in the Army in WWII and Mom observed the service of all veterans solemnly and reverently; she demanded her children properly learn the ritual. Our role was to honor the dead soldiers and show gratitude to those veterans who were still with us.

Memorial Day has slowly metamorphosized from a national day of honoring veterans to a general recognition of all who have passed on. And Mother and her mother and their mainly female friends and relatives saw their duty to include the graves of deceased loved ones in various cemeteries in divergent locales. Mom would load all four of us kids and bunches of freshly cut ferns and flowers into a black Ford without air conditioning and without a thought on her part of a cold pop or an ice cream cone for us. She would say that was scant penance on our part to repay the sacrifice of our service people and their families.

I do not know how many veterans’ gravesites Mom dragged me to before I joined the Air Force myself during the Viet Nam War. I did not get sent to Viet Nam but several of my childhood friends did. One of them, twenty-two-year-old Gary Malone, went twice but he only came back once. That changed my understanding of Mom’s dedication to Decoration Day. I may be generally obtuse but I no longer needed a pointed stare, a tap on the head or a kick in the behind to appreciate Memorial Day. I sure wish Gary were here so I could tell him but his veteran’s memorial marker is close to my Mom and Dad in the local cemetery so I can, at least, salute Gary as I visit the folks on Decoration Day. I now get it; as always, Mother knew best.

Good Things Come With Time

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Photo by Peg Redwine

As did Athena, the goddess of wisdom who sprung full grown from the head of Zeus, occasionally a Mozart-type creative genius is born into the world already with great mental acuity. But most people only develop wisdom over a substantial amount of time. That is why virtually every culture honors its older citizens, not because they have lived a long time but because they may have accumulated knowledge and may possess sound judgment as a result. Of course, good judgment often is earned the hard way, that is, in response to earlier bad decisions. If one survives enough poor choices, better choices and better advice become more likely.

When it comes to good choices, I have been impressed by the simplicity of the dietary decisions of two elderly women. France’s Jeanne Louise Calment lived to be over 122. She quit smoking at age 120 and she claimed her long life was due to her penchant for chocolate and port wine.

Her fellow Frenchwoman, Sister Andre, is now the oldest person on earth at 118 years of age. Sister Andre survived the Spanish Flu in 1918 and recovered from COVID-19 in 2020. The Catholic nun stated that chocolate is her favorite food and she drinks a glass of wine every day. That certainly sounds better to me than kale and exercise. I am changing my approach.

One recent phenomenon of reaching an old age that as a male concerns me is that since the beginning of the 21stcentury of the 24 oldest people on earth only two have been men. Now I do not know the ages of many Biblical women but according to the Old Testament at Genesis 5:27, Methuselah lived to be 969 years old and Genesis at 9:29 tells us Methuselah’s grandson, Noah, lived until he was 950. What happened to men? I say we are now short about 900 years and women are now greatly outliving us. Please do not mistake my intent. It is not that I want women to live shorter lives than men, I just want all of us to, at least, make it to well over 100 or even receive a Biblical allotment of a long tenure.

In that regard, I must replace my granola bars with an assortment of chocolate. As to the wine increment, Peg and I bought a wine cooler at the Pawhuska, Oklahoma Chamber of Commerce auction last Saturday and Pawhuska’s Blue Sky Bank, that contributed the cooler, filled it with fun brands of wine, including some from the Prairie Rattler Winery in Shidler, Oklahoma. I feel heathier already. In fact, Peg and I now qualify to be full members of my sister Jane’s so-called women’s book club, Inspiritice, that ostensibly meets to discuss good books, but in reality, just gets together to drink good wine. I think they may all live forever; at least I hope so.

Photo by Peg Redwine
Photo by Jim Redwine

Death Is Swallowed Forever (Isaiah 25:8)

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Barbara Taylor Pease & Jim at Echoes of Our Ancestors: The Secret Game Book Signing OCHS

Barbara (Taylor) Pease passed away ten days after my brother Phil Redwine. Their Baptist Christian services were similar in several comforting ways. They were also differing as Phil’s funeral was in Norman, Oklahoma and Barbara was honored as a member of the Osage Nation in Indian Camp in Pawhuska, Oklahoma. Peg and I had attended Barbara’s mother, Judy Taylor’s, funeral in 2016 and were moved by the Osage graveside rites. Perhaps the coincidence of my appointment as a Special Judge in a recent Indian law case made Barbara’s services even more impressive to Peg and me. I know I was surprised about how little I knew of Osage traditions even though I was born and raised in Pawhuska.

As part of my legal research into an area of the law completely new to me I went to my personal library and reviewed my autographed copy of John Joseph Mathews’ book, The Osages, Children of the Middle Waters. Mr. Mathews was well known to my parents and, at our mother’s request, Mathews signed a copy of his book “with special pleasure” to my brother Phil and me. Mathew’s extensive scholarship into Osage traditions brought out the beauty and solace of Osage burial rites.

Barbara’s services included former Osage Chief Johnny Red Eagle fanning over Barbara’s body with an eagle-tail fan. This impressive ritual reminded me of the following passage in Mathews’ book that described a burial of several Osage members of a hunting party who were killed by a lightning strike:

“The survivors came into the village carrying their comrades and singing their song of death. The Little Old Men looked at the sky in fear, then fanned away the evil spirit from the bodies with an eagle-tail fan…”

See Page 68

At Barbara’s services Palee Redcorn sang beautiful, haunting and comforting acapella renditions of hymns in the Osage language and then transitioned seamlessly into English versions. One of those death songs was the traditional Christian hymn, “Amazing Grace”. At my brother’s funeral his youngest son, Ryan, who is an ordained Baptist minister, sang a deeply felt acapella version of “Amazing Grace” from the pulpit.

Of course, Ryan also gave a marvelous and inspiring message under the most difficult of emotions to honor his father much as Reverend Scott Kohnle of the Indian Camp Baptist Church spoke for Barbara. I do not know if Ryan’s mother’s Native American heritage influenced Ryan’s message for his Dad, but I do know Ryan and Scott both captured the essence of Barbara’s family’s and our grief and pride in our loved ones. Barbara and Phil were similar in their kindness and generosity and in their steadfast pride and support of their numerous grandchildren.

To lose two such priceless members of our small circle within ten days of one another was a lot to bear, but the thoughtful and heartfelt services helped. Peg and I now better understand the communal support of family and tribe.