Bury My Heart

Anytime I travel to Ramah, the visit always includes a pilgrimage to the town's cemetery.
This is where my ancestors are buried--those who have "gone the way of all the earth"--
my people.
This place is not morbid to me because it is the resting place of those whose stories I know. Some because their stories have been handed down and some because I knew them and loved them in their lifetime.

I am drawn to this place because of the connection I feel to these people
who went before me. Whose choices affected my life.
Whose sacrifices paved the way for me.

Whose legacy of FAITH laid the foundation for my faith.

These gravestones rise up out of the dust and tumbleweeds of the harsh land that challenged
the people buried here.

I usually go about my business not even thinking about my own mortality or where
I would like to be buried.
But when I am standing here, I feel a pull and I want to be buried here
among these people.
This time, that pull even reached out and tugged at Andy's heart.

As we were driving back to my Grandmother's house, he asked me if I wanted
to be buried there. He said it was really the only place on earth that we both had a connection to.
He served his mission in the area and spent five long, challenging months in Ramah.
I was surprised to hear him waxing a bit sentimental about a place that he really just tolerates--
sort of the price he had to pay because he married someone whose ancestral home was
literally in the middle of NOWHERE--the end of the earth--the lone and dreary world with
no cell phone service.

Really, you would consider being buried here?
I know the perfect epitaph for you:


"This is the LAST time I drag you to Ramah
I promise"

Back to My Roots

During my growing up years, I was uprooted many times. I was a resilent child and adapted to the many changes in location, friends, and schools. But through all the changes in my life, there was one constant:
Ramah.
Ramah is the home of the forebears on my Mother's side. Those hardy Pioneers were sent out to colonize and to tame the wilderness. To give you an idea just how hardy they were--
after drought, famine, pestilence and a smallpox epidemic, many of the settlers packed it in and headed back to Utah.
But not my relations.
Some would call that stubborn and maybe a little crazy.
I like to call it Faith and Gumption.
They stayed and built up a little community. Not as showy as Salt Lake City maybe, and they don't have their own Temple yet. And the current citizens only recently got the streets paved. But it's my Mecca. I return there every few years to remind myself where I came from.
And it turns out, I came from the dirt.
So, I go back to the dirt and pitch a tent.
And I spend some quality time with some of the descendants of those stubborn Pioneers.
This is the first gathering since my Grandmother Idelle passed away last year.
We gathered at her house for our reunion just like we always have.
But she wasn't there and we had to carry on without her.

This is the home my Grandparents built-it started out as a two-room cabin and was added upon over the years as their family grew. My Aunt and her family bought the house and have worked hard to clean and repair it while keeping the essence of the home we all love and remember.

This bookcase was always filled with good books. Many of them have been passed along to family members as mementos.

My Grandmother's "Easy-Read" large number phone--with the numbers upside down.
It takes a little getting used to. You have to use this phone because there is NO cell phone coverage out in the middle of nowhere, which is where Ramah happens to be located.

I was happy to see the hollyhocks still growing in the very spot where my Grandmother showed my cousins and me how to make dolls out of the flowers when we were little girls. We amused ourselves for many a pleasant hour playing with our Hollyhock dolls.

The chicken coop where I learned to gather eggs and
I also learned to stay away from the mean old rooster.

The barn has been transformed into our family reunion Bistro--we took our meals al fresco out in the country air.

One of the contributors to the "country air"
Indoor plumbing is a luxury I don't take for granted!

I wrote a little skit about the "Courtship of Joe and Idelle". Our Grandparents' love story is sweet and funny. Here you see the climactic scene where Joe (AKA my nephew Spencer) is proposing to Idelle (AKA my cousin Tonya).

The other cast members were my niece, Alyssa and my cousin's daughter.
Their costumes were actually clothes that belonged to our Grandparents.
When we were going through the clothes to choose the ones we would use, I held a dress up and it smelled just like my Grandmother. And I spilled over with tears of sweet memories of a loving, feminine, strong, faithful woman who is my Grandmother. And my sister and my cousins and I all cried together as they comforted me and we were happy that we had such a Grandmother in our lives and we were all assured in our hearts that we will see her again.

Our reunion was held the weekend of Pioneer Day. Trust me, it's a big deal in Ramah. In Utah, it's a state holiday and in Ramah, New Mexico it's the biggest happening of the year.

Our contribution to the parade was a float showing our patriotism--something our Grandparents ingrained in us. The theme of the celebration was "All is Well"
Andy asked how big the parade was.
My cousin Colleen said: "We signed up late to have a float in the parade and we were second on the list."

But, in spite of our joking about it being the shortest parade in history, there were actually 4 floats (2 more even later entries than ours!), a huge tractor, a few horse-drawn carts, a little boy on a John Deere power wheel, and the entire fire and rescue squad. And the biggest crowd of people I have ever seen in Ramah. I was so stunned, I just kept looking and looking at the crowd of people lining the road and almost forgot to watch the parade.

After the parade there was a street fair that included all kinds interesting offerings. Including my cousin's pie stand with the above sign. I don't know about the cowpies but the cherry pie I bought was delicious.

Favorite Things

This painting was a wedding gift from my cousin Myrna. (Technically, she is my mom's cousin but she is my age...the result of big Mormon families!) For the last 25 years it was in the plastic frame I put it in when we first got married. It sometimes hung on the wall but was more often tucked away because it was hard to find the right spot for it. I finally got it framed properly and I love to see it now in it's place of honor. Myrna is a talented artist and has done some commissions and murals as well as sold some of her work. But this is a priceless work of art, not just because the artist is dear to me, but because it captures a time and place in my life that is filled with good memories.

This is a painting of Roanie and laBruja--horses that belonged to Myrna. She lived in Ramah her whole life and I went there to visit on holidays and in the summer. To me, Ramah was the Wild West, the last Frontier. People there had farms and ranches and horses and cows and chickens. I was a city girl so it was exciting to visit Ramah--it was a different world. Myrna tried to teach me to be a cowgirl. She taught me to catch a horse, saddle up and ride. I learned to cinch the saddle tight the hard way: one time I didn't get it tight enough and when I swung my leg over, I kept going and slid upside-down with the saddle. Myrna had seen it coming and got a good laugh. To her all of that was as natural as breathing. To me it was as natural as a city girl on a horse... at first anyway. But over the years she didn't give up on me and eventually I got pretty good at it.

We moved to Ramah right before my junior year of high school. It was pretty traumatic for me but at least I had visited enough to know what I was in for. The best times over that two years were when Myrna would show up at the feed store (we lived in the back of a feed store--that's another story in itself), on la Bruja. My younger siblings would come running, "Myrna's here! She's got her horse." Since horseback was the only way she traveled, of course she was on her horse. We would ride double down to the pasture to catch Roanie for me to saddle up and ride.

Roanie was an old cow pony. His main purpose in life was rounding up cattle. He barely tolerated me. The thing I had in my favor was he was a little old and slow...most of the time. Myrna and I would ride around town. Ramah had only dirt roads and more horses than cars. Sometimes we would meet up with other friends for a game of pony express at the baseball field. A big empty dirt lot--no fence, no bases, no stands--they keep it simple there. This game is like capture the flag but on horseback. This was where old Roanie showed his competitive side. He would speed up as I went for the flag and then come to a screeching halt to turn and run away. The first time he did that, I flew up and over his head and landed in the soft dirt. He stood there looking down at me as if to say, "You sorry city-slicker--hang on!"


When it was time to round up Uncle Alden's cattle from the mountains and bring them down for winter pasturing, Myrna asked me if I would like to help. I had no idea what to expect. Luckily, Roanie was a trained professional. We started early in the morning and spent the entire day bringing them in. Roanie would plod along behind the herd and then suddenly take off after a stray. If I wasn't paying attention I would get jerked around and almost fell a few times. He would bite any that were lagging behind and nudge them along. I didn't even need to hold the reigns, he was very intent on doing his job.


At the end of that long day, we took the saddles and bridles off the horses at Myrna's place, then rode the horses bareback to the pasture. Roanie had worked hard all day and he was sweaty. I was sweaty and dusty too so I couldn't really complain. We headed for the pasture and Roanie plodded along slowly until we turned down the road toward the gate. Then he took off like a shot. I barely had time to grab some of the hair of his mane. I was literally hanging on for dear life. He was heading for home like it was the Kentucky Derby. I couldn't get a grip on his sweaty back with my legs, so I just flew out behind him flapping in the wind like long-johns on a clothesline. I was afraid he was going to keep going and sail over the fence. Luckily, he came to a screeching halt at the gate and stood there innocently waiting for Myrna to open it. I slid off his back and smacked him on the rump. He turned and nudged me and trotted through the gate.


Well, my cowgirl days are behind me, but a few years back I went to Ramah for Myrna's wedding. She took her time finding the right guy. After the ceremony and before the reception, I was standing on the corner across from my Grandmother's house and Myrna rode up on a horse. I asked her where her new husband was and she said he was helping her mom get things ready for the reception. She was riding one of la Bruja's offspring. She offered to let me ride a horse she was training. She said, he likes to run, you just have to reign him in. I was relieved to see he had a saddle and bridle.

By the way, Bruja is Spanish for "Witch". Pretty sure Roanie means "Devil".

Only in Ramah...

My Grandmother, Idelle, passed away April 23, 2008. I was not able to go to the funeral, but my sister sent me pictures. This was the first one I got in her e-mail. It had no explanation --and needed none--because we know how things are done out in the middle of nowhere in Ramah, NM. It's a place where they do things their way. They don't need a graduate of Mortuary Sciences, a Director of Funeral Services or an embalmer. They just need the big walk-in cooler at the trading post, and as you can see here: a good, readable thermometer.

Gazing Upon Mortality (Only in Ramah)

This is my Grandmother Idelle's coffin. My Uncle Joel made it for her. She requested that he make her one after he made one for my Grandpa Joe (her husband). I took this picture when I was visiting last October. My Uncle Joel and Uncle Kent and I carried it into my Grandmother Idelle's living room so she could see it and give her approval on it. She is one of the blurry figures in the background. It wasn't varnished yet and he put the handles on it there in the living room. He asked her: "Does it have your approval? Yes or no." She said, "Yes or no." He said, I need to know so I can fix anything you don't like." She said, "It has my approval and then some!"

Later that night she sat straight up in bed and proclaimed: "First order of business tomorrow...get that box out of my living room!" Early the next morning, my Aunt Tami and I carried it out the front door and around to the back of the house and set it on two chairs. So Grandmother could begin her day without having to gaze upon her own coffin.

Faith and Gumption

I was going to post funeral pictures but I realized it is only proper to remember that she lived first. My Grandmother (that is my Mother's Mother) was born in Ramah, New Mexico in 1918. Her Mother gave birth to her in a log and stone house that still stands sturdy and stalwart-- a testament to pioneer craftsmanship and a metaphor for my Grandmother. She was the oldest in her family. Her Pa came and went and eventually went for good. She watched over her younger siblings and cared for her Mother. She met my Grandfather Joseph Nicoll when she was 16. He later said he used to take his horse to the pasture across from where Idelle lived. He could hear her playing the piano (self-taught, no lessons!) and he would linger and imagine that she was playing just for him. Then, one day she invited him over for some of her homemade chocolate cake and that was it for him-- he was completley smitten. When he asked her to marry him, she said, "Only in the temple, Joe Nicoll." and he agreed. They borrowed someone's old model-T Ford and drove to Mesa. He asked her to wait in the foyer. He ran to the nearest jewelry store and bought her a gold band. It was several sizes too big but she wore it the rest of her life. She was sixteen and he was nineteen. They went back to Ramah and began their life together. Together they built a two-room cabin. (The picture is that cabin today) Over the years they added to the cabin as they added to their family. Four of their six children were born there. They did not have indoor plumbing until the late 1950's. They still didn't have a hot water heater when I was a little girl in the early sixties. I remember her giving me a bath in a washtub she had filled with water warmed on the stove.

* * *

Grandpa Joe lost a finger in a cement mixer one day. Idelle insisted that the other men who were working with him look for the finger and wash it off. They brought it to her and she got a needle and thread and sewed it back on for him. Years later she declared it would have been fine if he had kept it clean and not insisted on going right back to work. Instead, we got to hear all the funny stories he made up about how he lost his finger.

* * *

Idelle played the accordian and the piano and she sang like an angel. She sang all day long as she went about her work. She would sing our praises if we were being good: "Oh, my sweet little princesses are so precious to me!" and sing our scolding if we were in trouble: "Oh, you better shut the door or the flies will come in, the flies will come in, the flies will come in!" She sang as she scrubbed her kitchen and hung the clothes out on the line. She sang in the garden and in the shower. She played the organ for church and also served in many callings. When the Ramah Ward split into two, she attended both wards' meetings. She figured if there were meetings at the church, she should be there.

She was famous in town for her cooking and cake decorating. She was a cook at the grade school for years and believe me, those were not the usual school lunches. I have a book of her recipes that my cousin compiled-- after 25 years of cooking I still don't have the expertise to take on her specialties.

* * *
She called all of her granddaughters "Princess", but I was her "Indian Princess". Out of all her twenty-some granddaughters, I got the name because in a crowd of blue-eyed, blonde cousins, I had dark hair and eyes and my skin got very brown in the summer sun (remember--that was in the days before sunscreen!) She signed all of her cards and letters to me: "With Love to My One and Only Indian Princess, JoAnna".

* * *

Last October, I went to visit her. She was very ill and looked so frail. I stayed with her and took care of her through the night for the time that I was there. Her daughters and my cousins and sisters were all taking turns with her care and they were kind enough to let me have a turn for the short time I could be there. One morning she took a long time getting up. Everyone else was gone and I sat on the bed next to her and rubbed her back. She was leaning forward with her head down and groaning a little. I wanted to tell her how I felt about her but I wasn't sure how lucid she was. I leaned over to her and said, "Grandmother, you have given me everything I ever wanted from you: your faith and your gumption." She burst into laughter and raised her head up. "Darn right!" she said. I told her I was sure my family didn't always appreciate my gumption and that it surprised my husband from time to time-- I may seem quiet but I can be very determined. She laughed again and said, "They couldn't have any better! You know we have a legacy of faith and determination. Old Mr. Jacob Hamblin gets all the credit and attention, but remember there were so many who quietly went about their business and kept the faith."

"Like you." I said.

I kissed her soft cheek. She smiled and her head dropped back to her chest.

From time to time one or another of my kids will ask why they don't have a rich relative to leave them money; I tell them they are inheriting something more precious than gold: Gumption! They're not sure they believe me yet.