Have at it!

Have at it!

OK all you poets & philosophers, all you critical thinkers & comedians, all you social & political pontiffs – HAVE AT IT!

Serendipitious Noises #16122013

The Bitz & Pieces of Traveling From Ireland to Denver on the 16th of December 2013

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Here I am … I’m waiting to go through security at Cork Airport. Ahead of me is a family, Mom, Dad, and twin boys with long plantinum hair. They couldn’t be anymore than 3 years old. They were very good and put their jackets and mini back packs into the trays. Wide eyed and so very curious they looked around pointing and almost in unison asked “Was dat? Was dat Daddy? Was dat?” Dad answered very politely while herding them through the line. One more person through the metal detector and it was their turn. WAMP! WAMP! WAMP!

“AAAAHHHHHHHHH! DADDYYYY! DADDYYYY HELP! DADDYYYY!”

“LADS! It’s alright! She’s alright!”

“I’m OK! Just forgot to take my hairpins out of my pocket!”

The twins whimpered and held tight one each to Dads legs. Dad tried and tried to pry the twins from his legs to send them through. He’d dislodged one to send him though, but when he went to work on the other, the first would latch back on!  Mom went through in hopes to entice them through, but to no avail. Daddy’s legs were the safest place in the whole world right now and they were going to stay there until the clear and present danger of the metal detector has been eliminated!

People started grumbling, Dad was exhausted, the twins resolve unwavering. Finally Dad through up his arms, he shook his head, put his hands on his hips and  marched through, twins fully attached!  … Silence … A calm fell on the whole of security along with a sigh of relief.

“AGAIN DADDY! DO IT AGAIN!”…

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I’m sitting in a long row of seats in the common waiting area of terminal 3 at London Heathrow silently heming and hawing over whether to spend too much money on a Starbucks Americano. Behind me is a beautiful little girl who was as dark as midnight, with a smile as bright as your most magnificent dream! She played with a delightfully haunting giggle. An elderly  couple laughed and smiled with her. They spoke to her in German. The little darling turned to her mother and asked; “Was dey say?”

“They said they you are a beautiful young girl and will grow up to have a golden spirit!” (Gold Geist)

In front of me there was a young boy, maybe 5 or so? He goes up to a man sitting across from me and asks; ” Why are you wearing a toilet seat?”

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I give in! I go and wait in the long, looooong line and get myself a grande Americano and a maple wafer something or other.  I make my way back to the common waiting area. The place was packed! Holiday travel, who woulddah guessed? In the sea of people, and carry ons, there were two rows of seats 8 seats deep facing each other. In the middle was a young man sitting quietly, hands folded, elbow on his knees. How lucky!? Empty seat with only one person among them. I nearly skipped over and sat in the seat catty corner from the young man.

“Why you sitting there?” asked the young man. I desperately look around me, looking for a sign or something that indicated that I wasn’t allowed to sit there.

“Uhhhh, … are we not allowed?” I asked back

“Ju allowed, but look at me!?” I was confused, I didn’t get it. “… I look like a Mexican drug dealer!”

I looked him over. Beautiful carmel skin. Jet black wavy hair slicked back. Meticulously manicured gotee. Blue plaid flannel shirt button to the top, untucked. Cargo pants. Work boots. Small leather case … “OH MY GAWD! YOU DO!!!” A moment of silence …

“AAHHHHH! HAHAHAHAHA!” We laughed until we cried

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It’s still another hour before my gate opens. I’ve finished my Americano and wafer whatevers. I drift in and out of daydreams. I pulled and all nighter so I was too tired to read or do much else other than sit and stare. A man and three women come by and sat in the empty seats around me. I suspect that they are speaking Holland Dutch. They sounding very much like the Go players I have met from Holland. Well the man started whistling a nice little tune. He seem to stop abruptly when he noticed that I was listening.

“Keep whistling.” I tell him “Nobody whistles anymore. It’s nice to hear!”

“Ah, I don’t vant to be rude.”

That broke the ice per say, and we all started chatting away. I was curious though if I was right in my assumption that they are from Holland. So I ask; “Where are you all from?”

“Ve are from Holland! Can you not tell!?” says one of the women

“Yaw, it is obvious! Ve are all in our 50’s traveling. Ve have very short hair…” says another

“Ve are wearing fleece and comfortable hiking boots!” says the first woman

“Ve are eating cheese …” laughs the 2nd woman

“Ah here see …” the 3rd woman pulls out her carryon “… I have a bright orange suite case!”

“Naw…” Says the first woman “… Zat is because you are a lesbian!”

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My gate was going to open up here in a few minutes, so I start gathering up my stuff. I’m packing my carryon like a Tetris master when a young woman wheeled up an elderly man next to me. She fussed a bit with the basket behind the wheelchair, then sat down across from me. The man put his arm up on the arm rest and there on his arm, a set of tatooed numbers …

I was in shock. I couldn’t even gasp! I was rude, I stared in amazement! What do you say!? What do you!? I couldn’t look away! My heart started pumping in my ears! Did I start to shake? Oh gawd! I don’t know!

He turns and looked at me. Oh gawd! Oh gawd! Oh gawd! He reaches out and puts his hand on my knee. What do I do! What do I do! …

“It’s O.K.” He says softly “It’s real.”

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Too the gate! Down this way, on the metal walking conveyer belt thingy, walking, walking, trip off the metal walking thing! Didn’t fall down! AWsoMe! Turn the corner. NO! Wrong corner. Walk back, turn the other corner. OOoO! Another metal walking converyer belt thingy! I’m walking faster than Cheetahs! 1…2…3… JUMP! Off the metal walking conveyer belt thingy … 9 point landing … or 10 … or … aw hell, A MILLION POINT LANDING! Whoot! Whoot! At the gate! Long, looooooooong line. …. Sit down and wait … Line’s way shorter, get in line behind a raven hair beauty caring a cardboard witches hat with panty hose for ties.

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The line leads into another waiting room before boarding. Another waiting room another need for extra security. Hand the man my passport and bording pass…

“Where are you coming from?”

“Ireland”

“Going back home for the Holidays?’

“No, Ireland’s home, I’m going to visit family.”

“What do you do there?”

The dreaded question. Do I tell him the truth? Tell him that I’m a martial arts instructor and play along with all the ‘OoOooO! Guess we’d better not piss you off!?’ ‘OooOoo! I guess nobody’s gonna hijack this plane!?’, ‘HiiiiiYaaaaah!” … *sigh*… and then go through and extra security search. Or lie …

“Uh … I’m a little shy about saying this … but I ah … I ahhh teach martial arts…”

“Why be shy!? That is GREAT! What do you teach?”

“Uh … Shaaa … Kung … aahh … Shaolin” … I stuttered – was not expecting that.

“Oh! Oh! Hasim over there has taking … Uh … Hasim what did you study? She teaches Shaolin”

I walk along the line and Hasim meets me.  “Wing Chun” he says.

“Yeah! Wing Chun is part of Shaolin! …”

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Hasim and I are having a delightful conversation about Ip man when I come up to the 2nd check before you enter the waiting room. We linger there as we talk about how Bruce Lee took about 2 years of training from Ip man himself.

“Hey! There’s people in line here!” A shrill voice lashed at my spine. Hasim finished his sentence, and I begin a respone but was interrupted with “Hey! I said that there’s people in line here! We’re going to the US!”

I take a deep breath and tell Hasim that I should go a sit and wait for the same plane that everyone in line and in the waiting room is waiting to board. He nods his head and as I look for a seat I hear behind me; “Mrs. McKinlay, please step to the table so that so that your carryons can be searched”

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Because of technical difficulties the flight from London Heathrow to Dallas Ft. Worth was delayed nearly an hour. The fight was routine. Slept a little,  watched the movies … all the movies… terrible movies … I didn’t keep track of the time. When it landed I asked a local what time is was. 6:30pm. Oh, 6:30pm. … Shyte! 6:30pm!?  The gate to my connecting flight closes at 7pm! I’m still on the plane! I still have to claim my luggage and re check it! I still have to go through customs! I still have to go through security!

OKOKOK! I’m off the plane! Wow! They hand me an neon orange tix that says “EXPRESS” on it! In all capitol letters too!  “Do not wait in line! Go to the express line” the staff repeated to us as we raced through the airport! Head of the line at customs! Wooohooo! … Waited forever to claimmy7luggage…, …, …. Got my bag! Head of the line to check it! Head of the line through security! It’s 7pm! The gates closing!  No time to put my boots back on! Run with shoes in hand down the hall, along the metal walking conveyer belt thingy, up the escalators, to the train, the train is leaving, make flying leap onto the train just as the doors close behind me! …

Breathe ….

As I put on my boots I hear from the corner of the car; “Mis-skwak-kee!” Huh? The only time I ever hear anyone call me Mis-skwak-kee was other Native Americans referring to my Sauk & Fox affiliation. I look up from tying my boots and found a man with long pepper hair cascading down his shoulders. Blue denim button up, Levis and a fancy pair of tall “shitkickers”. He was decked out in green turquoise which suggest that he might be Navajo? I looked around to see if maybe he was talking to some one else. Nope. It was me.

“How did you know?”

“Well, you know how we Indians are?”

i smiled and chuckled. My stop came up. “I have to …”

“Go! Go! Catch your plane!”

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The gate was still open when I arrived. Last one on the plane. I settled in and fell asleep. I woke up in Denver, got off the plane, took the train to baggage claim and met up with Gregory …

“So how was your flight?” …

Serindipitious Noises #C@G370W7

I go into Penny’s to look for some cheap bitz & pieces. They are starting early with all the Xmas decorations & novelties, jamming them into every nook & cranny, putting up extra shelves, making the aisles so narrow my broad She Hulk shoulders couldn’t fit through without walking sidewise. I decide, ‘It’s enough! Time to go! I’m hungry! I need a toilet!” & attempt to make my way through this Xmas labyrinth of HORROR & DEATH! I scooch down one aisle & darn it! It’s blocked by dismembered Santa heads that you wear as hats! Quick! Stage left down the other aisle, UGH! Thawrted by radio active reindeer with GLOWING NOSES! Again another aisle & FOR GOODNESS SAKE WHATHAFAAA ….! Demon snowmen toe socks with their hollow black eyes & toothless smiles … Oh dear me, I was lost & confused! I wandered aimlessly muttering aloud; ” I can’t get out! I can’t get out!…”
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Then I turned some random corner & there stood before me a young girl of no more than 3 ft in height, long golden spun hair, & emerald green eyes as big as the full moon! I stood stupid in awe! Here is my salvation! Here is my freedom from this wretched place! But before I could speak, she said to me while clutching a pair of mistleltoe leggings close to her heart, ” I can’t get out either.”

Serindipitious Noises: #A1115G00D (The Lovely Bits & Pieces To A Typical Week)

I was on my way to city centre to get my weekly groceries when I ran into a group of teenaged girls.

“EEAAY” says the taller, blondie one. “Ye da new garl, comin da end oda yer like?”

Just like in the movies I look behind me, around me, then back at them with a confused look.

“Yeah, yeah, ye da new garl?”

My middle aged self wanted to say; “Why yes! I am that new 15 year old girl at the Precipitation Immaculate Constipation all girl Catholic School just down the road!” (… or whatever it was called) … Instead, I said; “No, no, sorry.”

“Aah yeah, she’s not American so.” Says the one of the shorter blondie girl to the taller blondie girl … eh’hem … “garl”.

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I was down at the best chocolate store in the whole wide world! – O’Conaill’s!  (… http://www.westcorkaplaceapart.com/food/confectionary/o-conaill-chocolates/ …) And it’s right here in Cork! I’ve always been a fan of the Belgian chocolate until I had a taste of the glorious Irish chocolate! My goodness! Ecstasy I tell yah! Pure Ecstasy! … Don’t get me wrong, Belgian chocolate is still fantastic, but the Irish? *Whew!* WOW!

So, I was there picking up some truffles to send back to my Sister in Law who’s birthday passed me by. There were only 2 boxes left, and they were a bit dusty. I didn’t care too much about the dust and bought one of them. As I was leaving the shop assistant hands me the other box and says; “Take dis away wit ye so. No one will buy it all by itself.”

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As I was on my way home from the O’Connaill’s, I came upon a gentle silver hair reaching over a stone wall breaking the brilliant purple flowers from a gianormous bush. As I approached him, he quickly hid the bouquet behind his back and stared innocently at the ground. I thought to have a bit of fun and said to him; “Are you stealing those?” A devilish smile grows on his chin as he brings his finger to his lips.

“Shhhhhhhh … It’s m’garl’s ‘n me 50th, ‘an I’d stole dees vury flaw’rs when I proposed!”

“Oh!” I said; “I guess you’ll need these as well!” I pull the extra box of truffles out of my bag and gave them to him. With a huge grin and a cackling laugh he scurries around the corner yelling back “Tank Ye! Tank Ye!”

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What a beautiful warm and sunny day! Taking my usual short cut through Tory Top Park! The wonderful smell of freshly cut grass! 

*GASP* … The City Council changed the flower beds. The red so spectacular that not even a photo can capture it’s magnificence!

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There’s a group of silver hairs that gather at Tory Top Park every day rain or shine! We’ve very lovingly deem them “The Grumpy Old Men”. They walk around the park always talking about “Fookin’ ” this and “Fookin’ ” that, with a Jack Russell, or another sort in tow. Between their walks around the park they all sit on the bench next to the flower beds in quiet contemplation  – for the most part. I wave a fond hello to them every time I walk by, and they tease me about who my next boyfriend is going to be. This time I decided to take a photo of them, being that they were all there and a bright sunny afternoon to boot! I ask if I can.

“Oh! Yeah, Yeah! Work away! Work away!” Says the one with the metal cane.

I take the photo and show it to them.

“Whoa look! She shows tah Kevin furst!” Says another “Guess who’s ‘er fav!” And then punches Kevin in the arm!

“Ar’ye married?” Says yet another.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Ye be comin’ ta m’place den lader so?” A round of cackling and punching insues.

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I have a couple of stray cats that I feed. 2 black cats. One I call “Blue Toothless” or just “Blue” for short. She arrive with a frayed blue collar to distinguish her from the other black stray I call “Red”. Just “Red”, because he was wearing a tattered red flea collar. Blue managed to get all her bottom teeth knocked out some how, so she went from just “Blue” to “Blue Toothless”. Thought it was a cute cheeky pun none the less. Without any bottom teeth she has trouble keeping her tongue in and you would often find her sitting on the table looking through the kitchen window as if to go “THHLLLLLPT!” One of these days I’ll manage to get a photo of it, but right now I just can’t get it coordinated!

“Red” is my stray cat. I go back and forth on whether to bring him in and turn him into a domestic. It always comes down to, “no, no, I just can’t” I don’t know if I am justifying, rationalizing, making excuses or what, but I figure that if he want’s to stay with me he will. Well, after spending some time in the bathroom I find Red in the middle of my kitchen floor. He got in through an open window.  I put down a plate of food for him and he eats. He then goes and jumps on the couch and falls asleep for  the rest of the night.

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Got this membership to the pool. I’m feeling all 41 of my years. I’m feeling flabby and lethargic. My cardio is non existent, and so are my knees. Running and even biking are out of the question so yeah!  Swimming! That’s the answer and I sign on! I’m there on my first day trying to be brave, sucking in my stomach, getting to know the lay of the land. I pop into the pool and do a few laps. What? There’s a class and I have to move to another lane? Well, OK. I get out and before I reach the other side of the pool, a well conditioned life guard intercepts.

“Ye ‘ave excellent technique! Ar’ye on de UCC swim team?” … Believe you me, I was all a blush!

“Uh… uhmn … Uh, Thank You! And no, no I’m not, … uhmn … I’m not, uh, on the UCC women’s swim team.”

“Ore’rite! Ar’ye swimin’ ear often then so?”

“Well, yeah … I, uh, I just got started though … with a membership …”

“Ore’rite! Ore’rite then! I see ye round so?”

“Yeah! Yeah! You’ll see me around.”

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I can’t wait ’til next week!

Serindipitious Noises – #FD64Fr33 (Pays To Miss Out)

(Originally posted on 26 October 2008 on Facebook)

I had gone into city centre early this afternoon to get a few grocery items for my self imposed “lock in” to get work done. It just so happens that this weekend in Cork City there is a Jazz Festival where in every nook, cranny and pub there is some jazz band, music of sorts playing. Monday is also a bank holiday so it’s a 3 day weekend, Holloween is this week and wouldn’t you know there was a food booth extravaganza all along St. Patrick’s Street.

There were foods from all over the world even “Native Foods From The Congo”. The aroma was delightfully mind numbing as I walked up and down the street. At the far end there was an unusually large crowed around one of the booths. Well of course I had to find out what the deal was. When I got to the crowed I saw that the booth was simply labeled “Vegetarian” …

OH MY ….AAAHHHH!…… WHAO! …. WOW! …. YAY!!!

This is the infamous “Vegetarian” booth. The woman who runs it has all sorts of vegan and gluten free desserts that she bakes herself at home and brings them to these festivals and such. However, they are either vegan or gluten free except for 250g vegan, gluten free chocolate chip cookies for only 1€! It was the only thing I could have. I could see it a huge tub piled high with these cookies! People were reaching in grabbing as many as their paws could hold and then waiting in line to pay.

I was wearing my prison orange rain jacket so I stuck out like a … girl in a bright orange jacket… The crowed was so big and think I couldn’t push my way through to get my grubby little hands on even one of the cookies! People still grabbed and grabbed. You could no longer see the cookies above the rim of the bin. People were reaching deeper and deeper.

Finally! I made it up to the booth, I look in the bin and yes, 3 cookies … NOOOOOO! … a very tall man with hands that could palm a basketball scooped them up with his right hand, put one in his mouth, wiped his wet nose with his left hand, put the other 2 cookies into his left hand and reach deep into his pant pocket and pulled out a 5€ bill … I was mortified, crush, my soul just died a thousand horrid deaths. Mouth full of cookie he made a very kind jester with his booger cookie hand and offered me one. I gave a sad smile and shook my head no…

“Ye wait here, Luv.” I looked over the woman running the booth quite confused “Ye waited long, ye can longer”

“You have more?” I asked

“No.”

Feeling really awkward I just shut up and waited. 5min, 10min, then 15 minutes later when the crowed died down to a trickle, the woman pulls out a huge bin piled high of vegan, gluten free 125g chocolate fudge with roasted hazel nut coating for only 2€ a piece. She pulls out a piece that looked like two that got stuck together, puts it in a paper bag and gives this to me. I try to hand her 10€ bill that I had. She turned her nose at it and said “Go away.”

“But…”

“Go away!”

“Well,…ahh…umm… Thank…”

“I TELL YE GO AWAY NOW!”

Scared senseless I scampered away muttering under my breath “Thank You, Thank You, Thank You, Thank You …”

I scurried into the park and sat on the bench. I pulled out my vegan, gluten free, chocolate fudge coated in roasted hazel nuts. I was like Charlie opening up that candy bar to find the golden ticket. I took the smallest bite – Oh the reverie! Never was there a diviner taste than this! My head swam in a rich, decadent haze!

Of course I thought to myself “Sometimes it pays to miss out…”

Serindipitious Noise #PKH41R

(This happened on 1 June 2012. I just didn’t have the means to post it ’til now.)

I’m so very blessed to have not the oddest things happen in my life, but odd enough …

There I was sitting in the shade at Governor’s Park, drinking an iced toddy (coffee) from Pablo’s, my most favourite coffee shop in the US so far. I was rather perplexed, despite the busy serenity around me. I simply needed to get my hair trimmed and there wasn’t a place nearby that didn’t charge the arms and legs of your Mother’s children. I would have to drive to the nearest Great Clips or Cost Cutters, but I just got a semi rock star parking and I didn’t want to give it up! Certainly not for a cheap hair cut!

Then a shirtless, well inked man comes jogging by, he stops and asks if there’s any water around. I tell him that there’s a drinking fountain down the hill but I wasn’t sure. He says Thanks and off he goes. A few minutes later he’s walking back. I ask him if he found anything and he said no. He looked parched and sunburnt, so a ridiculous notion popped into my head and manifested into me offering the ice left in my toddy. He said no, that’s alright and sat on the stone wall next to me. We started chatting about his sunburn and it came out that the was a message therapist & a hair dresser that goes around engaging people and sets up appointments with them where ever they want to have the message or hair done! I asked how much he charged. He asked if I needed my ends trimmed. I said that I do and the next thing I knew I was sitting on the park table with a poncho and Georgio trimming my hair. He did a great job! I threw him a 10er + a few, praised his work and puff he was gone!

If my hair wasn’t an inch shorter and more manageable I would’ve thought I fell asleep in the cool grass, and dreamt the whole thing. … There are plenty of crafty squirrels at Governor’s Park …

Serindipitious Noises – #S91R1T5 (Wind People)

It’s a windy day today in Cork City, Ireland, and a cold wind at that. But there’s hardly a cloud in the sky and the sun’s shining high and bright. As I tighten my hood around my ears I giggled while the Wind People dance around me…

Originally Posted, 27 February 2007, Denver Colorado on My Space

A week or so ago the wind was so strong that when I took Dodger out, the wind blew him over… and we were in the city at Governor’s Park next to the West side of a tall building! I had to laugh. Not only was it funny that Dodger was blown over, and passer bys grumped and complained, cars even had a hard time staying in the lanes, but me, I was enjoying the wind, and took great comfort in it.

When I was very young, before I was in school, the wind would come bang against the side of the house, rattle the windows and doors and moaned a sad song. I felt so sad that I quickly ran around the house opening every window and door to let the WIND PEOPLE in and all the banging, rattling and moaning would stop. “It’s cold outside, they just want to come in.” I said to my father as he went around the house closing all the windows. Of course I would promptly open all those windows and doors again. I mean really, it was cold out!

In 2nd grade the tornado sirens were tested every Monday at 1pm. I hated the sirens because I thought they scared the Wind People away. One day, on a Thursday, the sirens went off. We were all instructed to line up and go into the bathrooms. As we filed into the bathroom I broke loose ran to the double doors and flung them open. The force of the wind kept them open. It took three teachers, two to close the doors and one to grab me kicking and screaming, “The sirens are scaring the Wind People!!”

In 3rd grade our classroom was situated on the West side of the building. There was a strong wind that day and it beat against the side of the building, rattling the window and howling. Mind you, this is Colorado Springs, the headquarters of “Focus on the Family”, very Christian, religious and superstitious. And I had a substitute teacher from Mexico. After a deafening howl of the wind I spoke out of turn and said “Mrs. Naomi, you have to open the doors and let the Wind People in.”

“Who are the Wind People?” she asked

“They’re spirits, and they just want to come inside, and they won’t stop howling and knocking until you let them in.”

This terrified my whole 3rd grade class, and I got sent to the principals office. It was cool, ‘coz it was 10am and my father told the principal to either open the doors or send me home. I got sent home. … Thank You, Wind People! BAWK! BAWK! I spent the rest of the day playing outside with the Wind People.

Just before my 9th grade year, I was up in Michigan hanging out at a Sauk and Fox Native American community. There I met this older gentleman, who was a real kick in pants I tell ya. Other people told me to “watch yourself with the Old Crow”. (Apparently Ravens turn into Crows when they get old and silly. Don’t know if this is true folklore or not, I was just told that) I watched this Old Crow sell stones that he pick up off the street to gullible tourist. After making a sell the Old Crow came into the breakfast café, where I was sitting. He walks up to me and says “So, the Coyote came home to visit?” I really didn’t know what to say. (Funny, in that I had a similar experience later in life, another story another blog) Suddenly the wind picked up something fierce! Surprisingly, both me and the Old Crow started to laugh. Even more surprising the people in the cafe opened all the doors and windows. I just had to ask, “Why are they opening the doors and windows?”

” You know why?” The Old Crow responded

“Wind People” I joked

“You should know, you’re one of them.” The Old Crow said matter of factly

“You just said I was a Coyote?”

“What do you think Coyotes and Ravens are?”

I just smiled.

The Old Crow then told me that at the end of the summer all the spirits come here from the Mountains from the Waters, to keep warm over the Fall and Winter and to see what is happening in the People World. In the Spring when there’s no more snow they go back. The wind was very strong, blowing over dumpsters and such. Old Crow said that the harder the wind blows the harder the Winter. Later that Winter my Father and I where in Michigan and when we were driving back we got in a blizzard and was stranded at a truck stop for two days in Nebraska.

Just last November 2006 my friend Michelle Eagle-Elk and I were at a gem and mineral show at the Merchandise Mart. When we had left the wind kicked up. The wind was blowing so hard that we had to stop and cover our heads and turn our backs to the wind to protect ourselves from flying objects. We made it back to  my Jeep and I told Michelle the Old Crows story. Again I don’t know if it’s true folklore or not, the Old Crow could have just been pulling my leg. But when I think of the Wind People, the Old Crow, how strong the wind was, the 7 or so blizzards we had this Winter, and the wind that blew Dodger over, I have to say I don’t care if it’s true. No Matter where I go, no matter where I am in my life, the wind will always blow.