|Mudcreek (standard:non fiction, 2734 words)|
|Author: Rich Eubanks||Added: Mar 07 2007||Views/Reads: 2340/1542||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Anyone who has read, or seen, any of my books in print might wonder, 'why the coyotes'? This is just a little, true, story of why I designed this logo and name for my writing.|
Anumpa Ikbi In the Native American Choctaw language this means The Storyteller. I was born in southern Oklahoma in the same town and the same year that Roy Rogers and Dale Evans got married. Although I spent most of my school years in Norman I always considered Ringling my hometown. I guess mostly because I'm related to just about everyone there. I've always joked that my parents moved to Norman so that my sister, Jennifer, and I could legally date. I chose Anumpa Ikbi as my writer's logo primarily because of my Choctaw ancestry but also because of my feelings of connection, sort of a totem, with the coyote. There is no Choctaw word for coyote so I created the idea of the storyteller coyote. This connection really began from a story that my mother told. This happened before I was old enough to remember so it's totally from my memory of her story. Ringling and several other small towns nearby are known as the mud creek community because of their proximity to Mud Creek, thus, the title to this short story. Mud Creek “Where's Mike?” Christine asked as Dewey came through the squeaky back screen door alone. “Don, don't know,” Dewey stuttered and looked confused, hesitated to get his thoughts connected to his next words, then finished, “not with you?” Dewey Eubanks had a problem with talking. After being hit with a mortar at Iwo Jima almost as soon as his platoon had landed on the island, he'd fallen getting back onto the ship and severely injured his head. His right arm had been nearly severed by the mortar and he pretty much carried it with his left hand on his long trip back to the shuttle boat and to the ship. Walking with his good arm holding his wounded arm left him just enough off balance that the blood and water slicked deck made keeping his footing impossible. When he fell he was unable to protect his head at all. After months in the VA hospital in Oklahoma City where his arm was reattached reasonably well he transferred to the Naval Base south of Norman. He sent for and married his hometown sweetheart Christine Folsom. For months Christine lived in an apartment while Dewey was convalescing on base. Then they finally moved to Ardmore, closer to home, where Dewey got a good job as an Air Traffic Controller. They planned, and had, a beautiful daughter, Jennifer, and even began building their dream house. Dewey and Christine made a very handsome young couple. He was beneficiary to a strong jaw and penetrating blue eyes from his English/Irish ancestors. He wasn't as tall as some of his brothers but his physical conditioning made him just as appealing. Christine had somehow avoided the typical Choctaw appearance that most of her siblings and parents displayed. Instead, her light hair and blue eyes went well with her trim figure and 5' 2” height. Jennifer seemingly had inherited the best of both and the small family was definitely a picture of envy in the Ardmore community of 1947. Then in 1948 they added a son, Richard Michael, to their family. In 1950 the old injuries created a new hurdle. Dewey suffered massive brain hemorrhaging likely due to the head injury on the ship. After months back in the VA hospital in Oklahoma City, a real strain had been placed on the marriage and the relationship between Christine and Dewey's families in Ringling. But now he was finally home. The massive strokes had injured his brain making the challenge to communicate very frustrating. But Dewey was finally back with his family. “He left with you Dewey.” Christine looked worried at first then her expression turned to a combination of anger and panic. She was tired of all the work, tired of all the worries, and tired of wearing dresses made from the sacks the livestock feed came in. Her frustrations burst out. “He's only two, where is he?” “No,” Dewey returned anger with anger, “not with me.” Click here to read the rest of this story (253 more lines)
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