WHO IS SYLVIA? (photo: age 37) November 6, 1999 Who is Sylvia? What am I? Why do bagpipes make me cry? Embarrassed tears drawn forth to air, As soon as wailing begins to blare. Ancestors from Scotland chose Tennessee as home, Hills rolling green, streams, and crunchy forest loam. My Grandpa Burness eight generations removed in time Was also grandpa to Robert Burns, renown man of rhyme. Writing poetry is merely rhythm and rhyme: Record a thought from your mind each time; Every sentence follows with all accents the same, Big words in the middle, rhyming end words is your aim. Only a few basic words in our language jive, Tack them on the end: For this you must strive, Like music in mathematical phrases Are poetry's words in measured mazes. Write it out as you see fit, Then walk away and let it sit. Read it over a time or two, Edit and cut 'til it pleases you. For some reason, it's easier to remember If things rhyme - like Christmas songs of December. The human mind can be tricked through singing A myriad of words from memory to be bringing. Playing with words, writing poetry is fun, Creating new meanings by the time you're done. Anyone could say the same 'ole dull thing, But rhyming stays with you with a brand new ring. * * * * * * * FINALLY! My biography is finished: "Cherokee Lost & Found." Because my life has been lived on a Spiritual Path, I cannot sell what came to me in a spiritual way. I am offering my Life Story as a free gift to anyone who purchases all Four Sets of my Pet & Garden Postcards (40 beautiful top-of-the-line UV-coated postcards - 40 different pictures from my camera over the last 20 years). When you read my Life Story, I think you will be intrigued and amazed at how Creator is the Lord of our Destiny and NOTHING is impossible! Please, send check or money order for $23 (includes shipping) to Sylvia at P.O. Box 7033, Knoxville, TN 37938	WAMINEGA "Walks on the Snow" (photo: age 42) Calvin Chaska Denny's life is remarkable as a Twentieth Century American Indian, born and raised on the Winnebago Indian Reservation in Nebraska. As you read his life story, you will get to know him through his own words. Chaska is a gifted author - untrained by the professionals, but gifted by the Great Spirit as a Story-Teller. And his own life is the most amazing story of all. As a visionary, Chaska is able to "go into" the past and write of what he sees and feels, as if it were the present moment. When he was but a child, Chaska's grandfather realized that he was gifted by the Great Spirit. Chaska was raised by his maternal grandparents of the Ho-Chunk Winnebago Tribe. He was mentored by traditional elders of his father, Calvin J. Denny's Dakota / Lakota Nation including Grandpa Frank Fools Crow, Traditional Chief and Holy Man. In WAMINEGA, Chaska's Winnebago name meaning "Grizzly Bear Walks on the Snow," you will be drawn into Chaska's strong spiritual and earthly experiences. In his first fifty years, Chaska has seen, felt and known ALL of the trials and tribulations which the American Indian has tasted since 1492. Chaska's first book is an overview of his personal life as he seeks to walk in The Spiritual understanding of the Sacred Ways of the Dakota / Lakota Nation and his 40-year-search for understanding of his VISION, seen in his first Fasting at age 13. Chaska's book WAMINEGA (for Indian eyes only) is self-published, spiral-bound, in order to insure that his words are those that you read, not edited words of a publishing company. WAMINEGA is a spiral-bound, 240-page, in-depth, fully-detailed book of his life and blessings with seven full-color photo pages and 57 colored illustrations. Each book is numbered and signed by the author, Calvin Chaska, with an e-mail address for question-and-answer: waminega@yahoo.com. Please, make check or money order for $40 (mailing by bookrate US Postal Service included) to Chaska at P.O. Box 70733, Knoxville, Tennessee 37938. Remember YOU must be an enrolled Indian.
Here we are again at the Fall "Homecoming Festival" at Museum of Appalachia, a Smithsonian extension showing an ancient Appalachia mountain settlement as it was 100 years ago. As always, my hats are a hit.	October 7, 8, 9, & 10 of 2010: Chaska always has an answer to those who have questions.
This year a mother peacock kept a watchful eye on anyone getting too close.  Her nearly-grown chicks watched every move to find food and as soon as she lowered her head to pick up something in the grass, they jumped in to see what it was and try it for themselves, learning what's good or bad to eat.  Joey was buried at his favorite spot, by the split rail fence, where he sat at the corner of the barn, watching and waiting for Chocolate, his friend.	The papa peacock wasn't afraid to eat peanuts out of my hand. They always went through their macho-routine, standing nose-to-nose like prizefighters, Chocolate looked away as Joey peed on his tree, then walked back to our yard, Chocolate went over and sniffed it, then walked back to his house.  41 days after Joey died, Chocolate died suddenly.  When I told Lily, her eyes widened, she put her paw on my arm and gave a great sigh (of relief) that Joey was not alone any longer and she didn't have to go to the other side to look after him, because she loves US so much.  From that moment, her joyful, playful self returned to us - although we all miss Joey.  He was part of our landscape and our daily life.
The morning after we buried Joey, in Lily's Mickey Mouse blanket, I covered his grave with our sweatlodge river rocks and with the most beautiful, fragrant roses as the Last Roses of Summer.
Joey's still with us, hanging around his favorite spots,	the fence, the barn and the birdhouse at the sweatlodge.
The minute after we buried Joey, at the front door was a starving kitty, pleading with desperate cries for food.  I fed her and that night she slept on the front porch mat, Joey's spot.  She's now part of our lives, sleeping with full amenities in the garage at night. Lily walks alone as she checks the perimeter of our property, which she and Joey always walked together, but we believe he's still "here" - only the veil of death separates us.  Love never dies.	"Tigger" - the most loving kitty I've ever known - has helped to fill the empty space in all of our hearts.  God's compassion is as near as our heartbeats, matching up His childrens' needs with His other childrens' longings to serve. We wish you All a Warm Winter in your heart and home and a New Year that will be better than the last, as we depend on our Creator for the basics of life, sharing with those around us portions of the Blessings He has given each one of us.