The Native Iowan

Once again, shock / horror, the year is ending all too soon. All 12 months have flashed past faster than a field rat running from my hounds.

And those field rats are crazy fast!

So are my hounds.

The day after Cmas, in many parts of the world, is called “Boxing Day”. It comes from a tradition that I find kinda cool... Boxing Day was traditionally a day off for servants – a day when they received a special Christmas box from their masters. The servants would also go home on Boxing Day to give Christmas boxes to their families.

Sure, some may take exception to the idea that anyone had servants, and that servants got a day off. Some folks can find a bit about anything to get their righteousness in a twist, but not me. Nope. I come from a long line of peasants, serfs, servants and emigrants.

In our modern world of self-flagellation and loss of sleep over matters such as reparations and retribution and compensation and such… I take comfort in the fact that “my people” never had much. They were, and I am, people of the land. Not landed, not land owners, but the worker bees. The tendering hands that produced what the land offered.

So I guess I have little to repair or atone for???

The English, Irish, Dutch side of the family tree is my Paternal Grandmother, Ida. Born a Hinde, I know less about her back ground than my other sides of the family. I recall pictures of her parents and grandparents. Their names were Burke, Barton, Wright, and Hinde. They were not ‘recent emigrants” noting my maternal great grandmother, Minnie, and her husband, Thomas were both born in the USA.

One picture I remember well was on my grandmother’s table. An old, raisin-faced woman, seated in a chair, holding a long stemmed pipe. That was grandmother Burke. Grandfather Burke was a known OrangeMan.

The German side is easy to trace. My great-grandfather and great-grandmother both came from the same village. As near as I can tell it was a mass migration. Many family members all emigrated at the same time. I recall tales of the family traveling by “prairie schooner” across the content to settle in Iowa. My grandfather, Edward, was born in the USA.

My mothers side of the family tree is kinda straight forward, kinda… three brothers by the name of Angelopolous emigrated from Greece to the USA in the late 1800s. I say “kinda” in that there are familial lies that cover up the fact that my maternal Grandfather, Andrieus, had more than one family. From what I can find it appears he traveled back and forth between the new country and the old. He fought in the Greek-Turkey war of 1897. There was a family picture of him in his white tights and fluffy dress and pointy shoes, holding a rifle. He married Vera Vrotsos, in Iowa around 1920. It was an arranged marriage. He was well over 40, she was sweet 16.

None of these folks had servants, owned slaves, or participated in any kind of human bondage, that I know of. Vera’s people were Turkish Greeks. Somewhere in that messed up history her ancestors ended up on the island of Samos. Her people were chased out of Turkey. They left ahead of the genocide the Ottomans were conducting against those inferior to them.

So why should I feel bad about Boxing Day?

Funny thing is that my wife’s family, her Melanesian sires from the island of Choiseul, were indeed slave owners. In fact, in the early 80s I met one such slave. The last of a long line of chattel that had been accumulated through blood and greed and war and death. her name was Nelly.

Nelly had been an infant when she was stolen by my wife’s maternal grandfather. yes, grandfather, not great-grandfather. His name was Kapakesa. and he was a bad-ass. Had his own cairn of skulls.

I am told that in or around 1900 a guy up on the north coast by Pongoe was being a nuisance. Another group decided to “deal with him”, and put an army together. Kapakesa was hired as a mercenary to assist. He was a known as a feared taker of heads. He joined because there was anticipation of “booty”. He participated for what he could bring home… He returned from that raid with Liliboe’s infant daughter. She was Kapakesa’s slave.

Of course there were other slaves, on both sides of my wife’s tree, but I knew Nelly. I met people in the family that were children or grandchildren of slaves. They lived as a family member. no real distinction between them and other cousins and in-laws and outlaws. They did not inherit land. that was the only real difference Nelly was introduced to me as “kapakesa’s slave”.

A life long slave, ripped in horrific fashion from her family. As near as I know all of her family died the morning of that raid.

She lived a long and fruitful life. She was a respected midwife and healer. She had a great aura.

So, Boxing Day, not something I shall get my emotions in a twist over.

My plans for today originally entailed having our extended family up to raise hell on wheels. What I call a “vroom Bbq”. But the rains have returned and it is a bit of a hassle to have everyone hanging around all wet and muddy. It is fun, it is entertaining, but the kids get hurt more and faster when it’s wet here. So we shall put the vroom-day off. Here’s a picture of Ruben and Hudson in their new riding gear…

We had our family doo yesterday. Paul and Betsy did a good job. The mess and noise and confusion, as usual on Cmas morn, was biblical. Some tears, some injuries, but mostly copacetic fun…

And the beat goes on…

more later

Big smiles all around.