Dancing Grandma

Video Find of the Day

First I want you to view this one. This is NOT the video find, I'm including it purely for reference. It is a video of some Samoans doing a traditional Samoan dance called the Siva for tourists.



Now that you know what the Siva looks like, we are ready for the video find. I actually found this some months ago. Ever since I have been telling people that I enjoy watching people's grandmother's do polynesian dances on YouTube. Invariably they tell me I'm sick, because they all think I'm sick anyway, and their imaginations run wild and they think of things I can't imagine myself.

Here's the video I love so much, of the poster's Grandma doing the Siva, her sons and grandkids jumping up to join her. It looks like it might be a wedding. Whatever it is, it's beautiful.

A Tale of Two Parents II

My Mother was born in 1914 on a farm near Okaton, South Dakota. Recently I read a census report that said Okaton's population is now 3.45% Asian/Pacific islander. That sounded impressive to me, until I found out that was entirely due to one Samoan. I'm very sure there was no Samoan when my Mother lived there.

My Mother was born to James and Jennie. James had four daughters and no sons. He wanted a son badly. My Mother was his fourth try at getting a James Jr. When she wasn't a son they named her Jennie instead of James, but soon they were calling her Jemmie, as if he couldn't let the original plan go.

The oldest of the four sisters was much older than the other three. She died in her twenties of an infection, while waiting for medical help to arrive from the nearest town that had a doctor. She had been left in the care of the second oldest, Alta, who might have been 9. I believe this story accounts for a detail my Mother added only months before she died. She says that Alta tortured her sexually.

Knowing Alta, I suspect my Mother got a urethral infection, and Alta, fearing she'd be responsible for losing another sister, tried to fix it on her own. That was the way Alta was later when I knew her. If you had a problem, she'd fix it, lovingly, with the help of God all the way, with a straightened out wire coat-hanger, if necessary. I didn't learn until it was too late, never tell Alta you have a problem.

Here's a picture I was told was taken the day the family left the Okaton farm. My Mother is on her Dad's knee. I imagine the men standing by the car were from the bank.

Suddenly, after Okaton, James had a farm outside Strafford, Missouri, near Springfield. James probably benefited from a helping hand from his own Father, who had connections in Missouri.

I love how in all the photos of south-western Missouri the horizon is tilted. It makes you feel like you're out on the ocean, and the ship is listing. That's how it feels when you're there too.

The shot below of my Mother's high-school graduating class is a treasure not only because 3 of the 4 guys are in overalls, but because it shows the trait of my Mother I am most pleased to share. She's the third female seated in front from our right. She can also be identified as the only one in the picture giggling. Other traits of my Mother I enjoyed: she was relatively good at math, although untrained; she could return putdowns at twice the strength dealt; I have her hair.



Out of school, my Mother could have stayed on the farm, if she wanted to have no kind of life, if she didn't want to find men, if she didn't want to marry some man with a career who would lift her out of overall-country and set her up pretty in the land of silk. So, OK, she left. For Washington D.C.! And landed work in a department store! Close to the Government Printing Office! The plot moves!