Basket Weaving Class
We met together one day under the Council House roof where many pieces of American history had taken place. We choice our seats at tables and our material from soaking tubs. Skillful Creek Indian hands showed us the steps, adviced our movements, and related stories to us as we attempted to weave little wonders I would not have dreamed I’d be able to complete.
We sat in the quiet dust of the past that fills my mind when I am in that old Okmulgee building imagining the long since days when great men met there and made political decisions and judged criminals brought before them. I had climbed the worn staircase and seen to Room of Chiefs where every chief who had presided there was named under his portrait. I had seen the Hall of Chairs where councilmen sat to hear the legal cases.
My basket finished out lopsided, but happy, and I carried it home and set it on a shelf in my livingroom. I am amazed at its simple beauty and at what may be stored inside its hollow––a length of thin white ribbon, a blue marble, a US quarter, a yellow botton, and a dried rose bud.
I am thankful that those skilled hands were owned by a person with a heart willing to share the art.
I have lived in the Okmulgee area for many years. It is a place full of history as one of the oldest towns in the state of Oklahoma. (Older than Tulsa!)
My book about my mother is made up of stories of her childhood in Tribbey, Oklahoma mixed with others about her raising her brood of nine children. She loved sewing. She sewed our clothes from everyday wear to wedding gowns and our home was always cozy with tablecloths, curtains, bedspreads, and upholstery from her machine and her imagination. Life with Mama is available on Amazon.
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