A Christmas Truce: Grandma, Kookum and friendship

Page 17

A festive, made up-story about coming togther during Christmas.

"Grandma Sanderson is coming," Mom waved the letter. "She says that she'll be here by Sunday."

"Gee, you might as well have waved a red flag in front of a bull," Dad warned as he looked toward his mother, Kookum Boudray.

The air around Kookum in our little house on the reserve seemed to go dry. It started to filter through the house. The atmosphere had changed.

Kookum put her sewing stuff back into the basket. With a limp, she crossed the room.

"Kookum, What happened to your leg?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Why just yesterday, you were dancing the Red River Jig."

"Son, these things come up sudden-like. Look at your Mooshum. He won the bonanza at Saddle Lake, and the next day he was gone. If you get a sudden shock, one never knows if one is going to bite the big one."

Dad laughed in spite of himself. "Where did you get that expression?"

"Television," Kookum replied.

"Come and sit down." Mom said, her eyes got all gentle. She gave Dad a warning look.

Kookum limped over to sit by Mom.

"Too good, you are to a useless old woman. Why in the old days, when we were a burden, we would just walk off into the cold and..."

"Kookum!" Do not talk that way. We love you," Dad said, coming to give Kookum a big hug.

"Son. Just because I live with you, I do not want to be in the way. Why when the other Kookum comes for a visit I can give up my bed. I can sleep on the floor."

Dad smiled and winked at the rest of us. "Thanks for the offer. But Kelly offered to give up her bed for her other Kookum."

Grandma Sanderson, as she liked to be called, arrived on Sunday. She was driving a big Cadillac.

I saw her pull up first. "Grandma Sanderson is here!" Mom and I put on our coats.

"Aren't you coming?" Mom asked Kookum.

"Too cold for my arthritis." Kookum continued her sewing. As Dad held open the door for us, he called to Chester, our dog. "C'mon, Boy. Let us see if you remember Grandma Sanderson."

Chester looked at Dad and let out a mournful yell.

"Bad luck. Make him stop. Bad luck to have a dog crying in your house," Kookum complained.

Grandma Sanderson breezed in. "Why look at all of you, a welcome home committee. And now, everyone I want a hug."

Kookum rocked stubbornly in her rocking chair.

I went over and gave Grandma a hug and she smelled different from my other Kookum. Where my Kookum smelled of sage and sweet grass, she smelled like that 'Evening in Parri' perfume'.

Kookum saw that Grandma Sanderson was determined to give everyone hugs, and she walked across the room quite fast on her arthritic leg.

"Have I greeted everyone?" Grandma Sanderson asked.

Chester looked out from under the table and growled.

"Maybe if you hang your fur coat up, then he'll come out for a hello," Dad suggested.

Chester cast a doubtful glance. Even when the coat went into the closet he did not venture out from beneath the table.

Meanwhile Mom and Dad filled Grandma in about the reserve and who was doing what.

Then Grandma turned to me. "Well, my girl. Your mother wrote me and I heard that you were chosen to play Mrs. Santa in the school play."

"It is only a small part. Santa is the star," I said, knowing from past experience that Grandma Sanderson made a big deal about things. The truth was that sometimes I liked it. Sometimes the attention was too much.

"Your mother wrote me about this important part that you are playing in the Christmas play. And here I am. I have a surprise for you," she said and went and got a bag out of the hall closet. She brought it to me. "Open it," she said.

I ripped open the package. "Wow." Inside there was a brand new Mrs. Santa suit. It had a little hat and a skirt. "Neat! Thanks Grandma."

Kookum said slowly. "Too much happening. Too much excitement tonight. It is no good if one gets too excited at night. Can't sleep. And I got to get up early to make bannock."

"Don't worry, Kookum. I am going to bed. Goodniht Kookum and Grandma, Mom and Dad."

I listened to their voices until I fell asleep.

The next morning came early. A lot of yelling or some very loud talking was coming from the kitchen.

As we tracked into the kitchen, me and Dad in our pajamas, one Kookum was speaking in Cree, the other Grandma was speaking in English.

"You forget where you came from. Some things you can not make. New and improved!" Kookum turned to Dad and said "She was trying to put mixed dry fruit in my bannock."

"It is no different from the dry Saskatoons that you put in," Grandma Sanderson said.

"It is different," retorted Kookum.

Dad shouted above the two women's voices. "Good Morning!" I would like to call a truce."

After a minute or so, the women shook hands. Grandma Sanderson took her bag of dried fruit and left the kitchen.

For a few days, Kookum made herself scarce. After supper she went to her room and stayed there for long periods.

"Why is Kookum in her room?" I asked.

"It is a Christmas secret," Mom whispered. "She won't even tell me about it."

Well, the big day arrived, the day of the Christmas concert. After supper, everyone went to get dressed in his or her best clothes.

Grandma Sanderson was the first one waiting. For the first time since she arrived, she took out her white mink from the hall closet.

"Where is my Mrs. Santa suit?" I asked. "The last time I saw it was in the hallway closet."

Mom and Dad came downstairs.

Kookum followed. "I have the Santa suit."

As we stood in the midst of this miracle, as we took in the costume which Kookum held in her hands, the room became silent. Fringes of leather hung from the bottom of the skirt. Where there should have been white fur, there was buckskin. Everywhere there was beads and bangles and mirror medallions.

"An Indian Santa suit!" Dad sputtered.

"I don't know if my teacher is going to like this," I warned.

Kookum looked sheepish. "The other Grandma always comes with fancy gifts from the city. I wanted eeryone to know. We can make fine things here, too."

This was when Chester chose to make his move. He got up from his favorite corner and slunk across the room. He made a high jump and did a triple somersault and as he was coming down, he grabbed Grandma Sanderson's prize mink coat off the back of the kitchen chair.

He growled and shook away at it, making bits of fur fly here and there. When he thought he had done enough damage and that the thing was, in fact, dead, he stopped.

Placing a triumphant paw on the coat, he turned to us for approval.

"The way I see it, I could become very upset at this moment or I can call a truce with Kookum and forgive Chester," Grandma Sanderson said as she offered a hand to Kookum to show that she understood. Grandma led us to the door looked back at the dog once. With a sigh, she closed the door.