Mom's Cousin Tookie

For years, mom talked about her cousin Tookie. Tookie is half Native-American. Up until last summer, I thought that Tookie was a woman, as I'd never met this person. I don't even know if Tookie is his real name, as my mom has a habit of giving people nicknames. Tookie no longer lives on the Reservation, he's in a trailer in the country and lives a meager, but content, existence.

Now, my mom never throws a thing away, and that frustrates us kids as the clutter can be overwhelming. But we discovered a strategy a few years ago where we can often coax her to get rid of really old junk by suggesting that Tookie could probably use it. She typically hesitates at the suggestion, then considers it, but often claims the item is an antique and that us kids live in a "throw away world." As she decides to part with "valuables," she puts the items that will go to Tookie in an area in the barn.

So, I suggested we load up the Volvo SUV with this stuff and deliver it to Tookie. One bag was marked "cookware" and it was full of old aluminum pie plates (mom looked at them and shook her head saying, "If only the recycling center would accept these, with aluminum at 65 cents a pound."). There was some old pipe tobacco from when grandpa was alive 25 years ago. There were some boots that had no life left. There was a crossing guard coat (which my sister wore to the County Fair ten years ago and got in free as an "official."). There was a lot of clothes--men's, women's and children's. I asked mom why Tookie would want all that clothes and she said he would find homes for all of it.

Most of the stuff I would have thrown on the burn pile. However, when we delivered the goods, Tookie appeared to be grateful. He was a cute man, in his 70's and really tiny with a long, thin braid at the back of his head. Mom hinted that she sure needed to stock some firewood with winter approaching and he was so lucky to be able to log for free on the Reservation. Tookie just nodded, no bite.

All this comes home to roost...my brother was taking a college course on Native Americans and was talking about the course while visiting the farm. Mom got very excited and said she had some authentic Indian stuff from Tookie --a gift to her that he had made with his own hands. She goes into a closet, rummages around for about 15 minutes, and emerges with a paper sack marked "to Frank and Dora...from Tookie" and in it is a "peace pipe." My brother, holding back laughter, says that it would be hazardous to smoke as it is made out of a piece of porch railing wood that has been treated with arsenic. Mom reprimands my brother for laughing ("This is a part of their religious ceremonies.") and insists that he takes it to class for "Show and Tell."

My brother ended up dropping the course.