The more respected the deceased, the more blankets.
Men took turns hacking a grave in the frozen earth. Because the earth was frozen many feet below the surface, they built a series of firesâone atop the otherâeach of them allowed the diggers to pierce the concrete-hard earth a few more inches. They repeated the painstaking process until the hole was deep enough to bury the dead. It was as much an honor to dig the grave as it was to be a pall bearer at the funeral. Families also pulled brand new rifles from their closets, still in boxes. Potlatch rifles were rarely used for hunting. Instead, they were a measure of wealth to be shared. If the men felt they didnât have enough rifles, they went out and bought more from other men or from the local store, which always kept a good supply on hand for such events. It was customary to bring high-powered hunting rifles, especially lever-actions, like in the old westerns. As with the blankets, the more respected the departed, the more the number of rifles.
Denny also wanted to honor her grandfather with a rifle. But because she was too young to buy one from the store legally, she gave her mother $300 from her winnings to buy a gun for her grandfather.
Younger people, teenagers mostly, helped to sweep the community hall, shovel snow from around the doors, and set up all the folding chairs and tables. They also helped carry in all the food and blankets and guns when it was time. Everyone seemed to have a role to play.
As Sampsonâs widow, it fell to Dennyâs grandmother to perform the role of host of the potlatch. Naturally, Denny and her mother helped to make all the necessary arrangements, as did others in the village, though everyone understood his or her role. Denny and her mother also helped cook pots and pots of food, which they placed outside on the cabin porch until it was time.
âDenny,â said her grandmother, âgo out to the shed and load all the potlatch blankets into the truck.â Only she used the Indian word for the blankets, which is hwtiitÅ tsâedeâ.
Denny put on her parka and hat and gloves and went outside. Thinking it was time to go for a run, the dogs started jumping and barking and howling.
âNot today!â she yelled above the din. âSettle down! Settle!â
The dogs quieted, most whining as they paced excitedly on their short chains.
Denny walked up to Kilana, and knelt to pet him.
âGrandpaâs gone,â she said, wrapping her arms around the dogâs shaggy head and hugging him. She began to cry on hearing the words spoken aloud.
The dog licked her face.
After standing and wiping her eyes, Denny opened the shed door and stared at the stacks of colorful blankets, all still in their clear plastic bags.
There must be a hundred blankets here , she thought.
Carrying five or six at a time, she made almost twenty trips from the shed to load them all into the back of the pick-up truck. The dogs watched her from inside their little straw-filled houses, hopeful that she might go to the sled at any moment, though even they knew it was far too cold for running the trail.
That afternoon, after loading all the pots of food between the blankets so that they wouldnât tip over, and after stacking nine rifles behind the driverâs seat, all that her mother and grandmother could find in the house, Denny and her mother drove to the community hall and unloaded all the gifts and food.
Silas Charley and his older sister, Valerie, had come early to help set up the folding chairs and tables. Valerie had graduated high school three years earlier and was a cashier at the only store in the village. She was even more shy and withdrawn than her brother. When Silas had finished setting up the chairs, he helped Denny carry in the food for the potlatch.
âDo you want me to bring in the blankets now, Ms. Yazzie?â he asked Delia when all the boxes had been brought into the kitchen.
âNot
Men took turns hacking a grave in the frozen earth. Because the earth was frozen many feet below the surface, they built a series of firesâone atop the otherâeach of them allowed the diggers to pierce the concrete-hard earth a few more inches. They repeated the painstaking process until the hole was deep enough to bury the dead. It was as much an honor to dig the grave as it was to be a pall bearer at the funeral. Families also pulled brand new rifles from their closets, still in boxes. Potlatch rifles were rarely used for hunting. Instead, they were a measure of wealth to be shared. If the men felt they didnât have enough rifles, they went out and bought more from other men or from the local store, which always kept a good supply on hand for such events. It was customary to bring high-powered hunting rifles, especially lever-actions, like in the old westerns. As with the blankets, the more respected the departed, the more the number of rifles.
Denny also wanted to honor her grandfather with a rifle. But because she was too young to buy one from the store legally, she gave her mother $300 from her winnings to buy a gun for her grandfather.
Younger people, teenagers mostly, helped to sweep the community hall, shovel snow from around the doors, and set up all the folding chairs and tables. They also helped carry in all the food and blankets and guns when it was time. Everyone seemed to have a role to play.
As Sampsonâs widow, it fell to Dennyâs grandmother to perform the role of host of the potlatch. Naturally, Denny and her mother helped to make all the necessary arrangements, as did others in the village, though everyone understood his or her role. Denny and her mother also helped cook pots and pots of food, which they placed outside on the cabin porch until it was time.
âDenny,â said her grandmother, âgo out to the shed and load all the potlatch blankets into the truck.â Only she used the Indian word for the blankets, which is hwtiitÅ tsâedeâ.
Denny put on her parka and hat and gloves and went outside. Thinking it was time to go for a run, the dogs started jumping and barking and howling.
âNot today!â she yelled above the din. âSettle down! Settle!â
The dogs quieted, most whining as they paced excitedly on their short chains.
Denny walked up to Kilana, and knelt to pet him.
âGrandpaâs gone,â she said, wrapping her arms around the dogâs shaggy head and hugging him. She began to cry on hearing the words spoken aloud.
The dog licked her face.
After standing and wiping her eyes, Denny opened the shed door and stared at the stacks of colorful blankets, all still in their clear plastic bags.
There must be a hundred blankets here , she thought.
Carrying five or six at a time, she made almost twenty trips from the shed to load them all into the back of the pick-up truck. The dogs watched her from inside their little straw-filled houses, hopeful that she might go to the sled at any moment, though even they knew it was far too cold for running the trail.
That afternoon, after loading all the pots of food between the blankets so that they wouldnât tip over, and after stacking nine rifles behind the driverâs seat, all that her mother and grandmother could find in the house, Denny and her mother drove to the community hall and unloaded all the gifts and food.
Silas Charley and his older sister, Valerie, had come early to help set up the folding chairs and tables. Valerie had graduated high school three years earlier and was a cashier at the only store in the village. She was even more shy and withdrawn than her brother. When Silas had finished setting up the chairs, he helped Denny carry in the food for the potlatch.
âDo you want me to bring in the blankets now, Ms. Yazzie?â he asked Delia when all the boxes had been brought into the kitchen.
âNot
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