Alistair Bane - Shawnees Never Quit

 

I'm from the Eastern Shawnee tribe of Oklahoma, but I've lived in Denver, Colorado for quite a few years. I have a friend that also lives in Denver who's originally from Oklahoma, the Cherokee Nation. A few years ago, we got talking about how homesick we were, and he suggested that we could go spend a couple of weeks with his grandma, who said he didn't visit nearly enough anyway. So, we made our plans. We got in the car for the 12-hour drive. And on the way there, we talked about everything we missed, fry bread and powwows and stomp dances and hearing our people speak our own languages. 

 

By the time we got to Oklahoma, I was so happy to be home. We were maybe three or four miles from his grandma's house when he said there were a couple of things he maybe should tell me about. [audience laughter] The first was that his grandmother might not be particularly fond of Shawnee people. [audience laughter] This was because of a thing that had happened between our tribes in the late 1800s, [audience laughter] which might seem like a long time ago to some people, but she remembered. [audience laughter] 

 

The second thing he said was that she could be a little bit persistent about inviting people to go to church with her on Sunday. Right away, I knew what he meant. In modern-day Oklahoma, Native people have an eclectic array of spiritual beliefs. Some follow our traditional ways, others have joined various congregations. I grew up with an Irish Catholic mother and a Shawnee father, and so I was very open to all kinds of different spiritual beliefs. But as I'd grown up, it was our traditional ways that had spoken to my heart.

 

However, when I went back home, I'd still get a lot of invitations to go to church. Although I really appreciate it, I usually politely declined, because there was always an undercurrent of hoping that I might be converted, and I really don't like to disappoint people. [audience laughter] So, I promised my friend that I could be diplomatic with his grandmother if she was persistent with her invitations, and I even thought that maybe I could win her over to like Shawnee people. 

 

We got to the house and went inside. He introduced us. I addressed her as Ms. Myrtle to show extra respect. She was a strong-looking, 75-year-old with roller-set hair. Her greeting was polite, but not particularly warm. But over the next week, I took her to Tulsa to run errands, I fixed her chicken coop and I used all my best manners. And by that Friday, I was winning her over.

 

At dinner that night, she said to me, "You know, Alistair, it's been nice having you here. Now, you know this Sunday is Mother's Day. Of course, at my age, I never know if this could be my last Mother's Day." [audience laughter] She said, "There's just one thing I want on this Mother's Day. Do you know what that is?" I said, "No, Ms. Myrtle, I don't." She said, "I would like you to be my special guest at church on Sunday." She said, "Of course, I know you're into your traditional ways, so if you don't feel comfortable going, it's okay, as long as you know this could be my last Mother's Day, [audience laughter] and I wouldn't get the one thing that I want." [audience laughter] 

 

When an invitation is put like that, there was really only one thing that I could say, which was, "I would love to be your special guest [audience laughter] on Mother's Day." So, that Sunday, we got in the car. Ms. Myrtle was in the front seat, my friend was driving, I was in the backseat. She turned around, smiled at me and said, "You don't know how happy I am today." 

 

We got to the church. It was a one-room country church. There were about 50, 60 people there that day, mostly elders from Ms. Myrtle's tribe. The services started, and they weren't that different from the ones that I remembered my mom taking me to when I was young, until they got to one part that I was completely unfamiliar with. In this part of the service, people could walk up the center aisle, put some money into this little wood collection box, and that bought them the privilege of inviting somebody from the congregation up to sing a special. A special, it turns out, is a solo hymn. [audience laughter] 

 

A few people walked up, donated their money, selected their guests, all sang beautifully and everyone was happy. And then, Ms. Myrtle started up the aisle. [audience laughter] She was kind of elderly, so it felt like it took her a long time to reach the front of the church. When she did, she carefully folded her money, put it into the box, scanned the congregation, found me, [audience laughter] and said, "My grandson brought a friend with him from Denver to visit. His name is Alistair, and he is from the Eastern Shawnee tribe, but he's a very nice person." [audience laughter] "Alistair, I would like you to come up here and sing us a special." 

 

I immediately began making shy no gestures and grinning the way my dog does when it's eaten another sofa cushion. [audience laughter] But there was an old man behind me, patting me on the back, saying, "Go on up there and sing, son. I can tell by looking at you, you're a singer." [audience laughter] That was the moment that I realized how true the old adage is that looks can be deceiving. [audience laughter] But my friend had grabbed me by the arm and was guiding me over his knees in the narrow pew, he said, "Grandma's going to be so happy." 

 

And the next thing I knew, I was out in the center aisle. It almost felt like there was some invisible force propelling me towards the front of the church. It could have been God. [audience laughter] I was hoping that if it was God, that when I reached the microphone, God would choose that moment to work a super big miracle [audience laughter] and make it, so that I could sing. I knew any hymns at all. [audience laughter] 

 

I reached the microphone, I waited. It didn't seem like any big miracles were imminent, [audience laughter] but I told myself it was going to be okay. I did have some stage and singing experience back in the 1990s when I lived in San Francisco. [audience laughter] I was in a goth band called The Flesh Orchids. [audience laughter]

 

[applause] 

 

It was a little bit different venue, [audience laughter] but it was stage and singing experience. [audience laughter] And then, I thought back to when I was really young and my mom had sent me to Catholic school. It was the 1970s, and there had been this hippie nun that used to come out with a guitar at recess and sing hymns on the playground. She always sang this one, " Michael, Row the Boat Ashore." I was like, “Oh, oh, I do know a hymn. I do. I know Michael, Row the Boat Ashore." And so, I turned to the organist who was waiting patiently, I was like, " Michael, Row the Boat Ashore, please, ma'am." [audience laughter] 

 

She smiled, nodded, “Good selection.” [audience laughter] The music started, and about the place I felt like there should be some words, [audience laughter] I started to sing, [sings] Michael, Row the Boat Ashore, hallelujah. Michael, Row the Boat Ashore. It was about the time that I reached the second hallelujah that I realized that was, in fact, the only line I remembered. [audience laughter] But Shawnees have never been quitters. [audience laughter] 

 

So, I decided there can be different versions of the same song. [audience laughter] There can be extended dance remixes [audience laughter] where vocals are looped repetitively. And so, I thought, I'll sing the line four times, give it a little bit of a rest, sing it four more and so on for a total of 16 times, [audience laughter] which seemed long enough to be a real song. [audience laughter] So, that was what I did. 

 

About halfway through, I closed my eyes, because sometimes it's better not to see your audience. [audience laughter] And while I stood there singing, I had plenty of time for existential questions, [audience laughter] like, “Who is Michael? [audience laughter] Why does God want him to row His boat ashore?” [audience laughter] And then, finally, I hit that line for the 16th time [audience laughter] and I stopped. 

 

The organist, who was not quite sure what was happening, [audience laughter] continued to play for a minute. But when she realized it was finally over, [audience laughter] she stopped in an abrupt way, and then there was silence. And in that silence, I walked back down the center aisle, I started to climb back over my friend's knees. As I did, our eyes met and he just said, "Dude." [audience laughter] 

 

I sat back down. [audience laughter] Ms. Myrtle was on the other side of me. She wasn't making eye contact, [audience laughter] and her posture seemed somewhat rigid. But once I was settled in my seat, she leaned slightly towards me and quietly said, "I don't believe I've ever met someone that didn't know at least one hymn." [audience laughter] There wasn't a whole lot I could say about that. So, I was just like, "Happy Mother's Day." [audience laughter]

 

[applause] 

 

I pretty much know what happened after we left the church that day. Everyone who had been there told all of their extended family, who told all the other people in the tribe, who told people in neighboring tribes and told until everyone in all nine tribes in Ottawa County knew what I had done that day. [audience laughter] The only way that anyone would ever forget is if someone came along and did something much worse. I don't know if that's happened yet, but when I go back home, any invitations to be anyone's special guest on Sunday are far and few between.