Blood Brothers

image from mintpressnews.com

Blood Brothers

“Love is not enough, but it is the rock on which 

all else stands.”--Nora Roberts (Blood Brothers)

A dozen years ago, while working

    for the VA, I applied for “Sensitivity Training”

              to assist in helping Native American veterans,

                    and got accepted. We were given a full week off

              & were allowed to stay at Camp Chaparral up at

    the Yakima Indian Reservation. My wife drove

me up to the Seattle Va Hospital, where

I transferred my duffel bags to government

vans.                         It’s 130 miles, over the pass into Central

                         Washington, to Yakima. The reservation

                      is southeast of there, outside of White

                  Horse. We met up with ten other vans,

               sent from several other VA facilities

            all over Washington state. We left

         in the late afternoon, a dozen white

vans in a caravan rolling up thick

white dust for the 25 mile run up

to the camp, due west to the slopes

of Mt. Adams, deep in the pine forest.

That week was remarkable,

eye-opening & informative,

as we listened to Indian veterans

talk about their difficulties after

Viet Nam & service in Iraq and

Afghanistan, problems with PTSD,

alcoholism, suicide, & sustaining

any semblance of a family life. 

                          

I bunked in the Crow’s Nest cabin, hosted by Bob Crow, John

Runningfox, and Harold Bearpaw. During those lovely autumn

days, we attended classes, did nature hikes, tried out the sweat

lodge, & I learned about making Indian art. My talent for drawing

was re-invigorated, & I drew many sketches, giving them away

to tribe members. I met a fellow civil servant, Paul, who was an 

artist, & he loaned me art supplies. On the last day they held a

talent show, I got to help host it. 

On Departure Day, we all exchanged gifts, hugged a lot, & gave

each other phone numbers & email addresses--we, of course,

vowed to stay in touch. The emotional ordeals & intense sharing

made us all feel very close. I was made an honorary member

of the Yakima tribe, & given the name of Spider. I paid dues

& received a news letter. Sadly, typically, I never did follow up

on any return visits. After two years I quit paying dues, but for

all these years the monthly news letter arrives as a ghostly

reminder. I did, however, stay in touch with Paul, and we have

become good friends.

Indian veterans

have special needs, & I loved

learning about them. 

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub "Poetics"