Remembering Grandfather

In Loving Memory

By Staranne

Grandfather, a full blooded Cherokee Indian was a tall lanky man, who thought life should be cherished no matter how large or small it may be.

Grandfather would thank the animal or bird that he was about to kill for giving up their life for his to continue.

I lived on a modest farm in Southern Illinois, which Grandfather owned, it had been passed to him from his parents, who had escaped the soldiers during the trail of tears march.

My Great Grandparents, had escaped according to Grandfather by hiding in the woods until the soldiers left with the remaining Indians in toll..

They were helped by farmers in the area and were able to get work as farm hands, doing any job they were asked to do just to survive..

Grandfather does not remember how long they had to work to save up enough money to buy their land, but does say it was a very long time..

As a child living on this farm, there was so much to do and explore and so many things to get into..

I remember one particular incident where Grandfather, who was very proud of the Chickens he owned and one particular Rooster, who was his pride and joy..

I loved teasing this old rooster, who i might add was as mean as anything imagined..

Grandfather, would tell me to stop teasing this rooster before he clawed my eyes out, but as any young child does, i promptly picked up a stick and would start jabbing at that old rooster..

I always thought i was making the rooster dance, it never accured to me that he was trying to defend himself..

One day as usual i was outside, stick in hand and jabbing away at that old rooster, The rooster had finally had enough of my jabbing and sprang up with his legs and claws stretched out ready to claw my face off..

Lucky for me Grandfather was not far and when he heard the commotion, ran out to see the rooster spring up and just before the old rooster was able to claw me, Grandfather grabbed it and broke its neck..

Well needless to say Grandfather was not in a very good mood after just killing his favorite rooster, he gave me a good swat on the behind and sent me in to my mother..

Now back in those days meat was something that was only put out on special days and sometimes on Sunday, so it was a nice surprise to see that Grandmother had fried up chicken for dinner, this is something that didn't happen very often..

While siting there at the table with both hands dug deep into the plate of chicken, i could hear Grandfather grumbling. "Its bad enough i had to kill my favorite Rooster, but now i must eat it"..

Grandfather than turned to me and asked if i had thanked the old rooster for giving his life so mine could be spared from hunger..

I slowly removed my hands from the plate and gave thanks to the rooster, who i had tortured for so long and who now was giving me continued life..

this is how it was living on the farm, and one of my fondest memories of Grandfather..