"Noble Lives of a Noble Race"

Since I was old enough to understand, I have known that I am 1/8th Chippewa. What this truly meant was always lost to me as a child. I remember I attended Native American group meetings in elementary school where we did different activities. I remember learning how to craft dream catchers in a summer school class.  I remember attending an event in Wisconsin where I ate wild rice in a tepee around a sage-scented fire. All of these events were memorable to me but they really didn't take on any true meaning until recently.

My great-grandmother, Delia LaFernier was 100% Chippewa and grew up in Odanah, Wisconsin on the Bad River reservation. She was born in 1893, shortly after the Treaty of La Pointe was signed which reserved the Bad River reservation land. During the late 19th century, an Indian boarding school, St. Mary's, was set up by the Franciscan sisters. This school was used to convert tribal members to Catholicism. My great-grandmother attended this school, where she ended up writing an Indian creation story for the school. This story was published in a book called "Noble Lives of a Noble Race." After doing some research and talking to family members, I managed to find a copy of her story on Google. An electronic version is actually available to view. After reading this story, that my great-grandmother wrote at the ripe age of 16, I realized how much like her I really am. What an amazing thing to feel a connection to a family member that you know absolutely nothing about, someone that you've never even met. The story, written in a Catholic school, naturally tells the story of a man who found his faith. I definitely don't agree with the Franciscan sisters coming to my great-grandmother's reservation and trying to convert her to this religion, but the story really is good. My great-grandmother was a great writer! Here is the story:

"A Missionary Tale from Lake Nipigon's Shores" by Delia LaFernier, 1909 

On the banks of Lake Nipigon there died not long since, a good old Indian over eighty years old. His Chippewa name is Wa-ba-nan-go-se-ki-wesi, and had been a pagan until three years previous to his death. 

One day the Episcopalian minister asked him to be come an Episcopalian, but the old man said, "No!" Father Specht, S.J., the Indian missionary to whom we are indebted for this story, met this old man on Lake Nipigon, and said to him: "I understand you want to become a Christian." "Yes," he replied, "I want to become a Christian." Then Father Specht said: "But how is this? You have never seen a priest." "Oh, yes," he said, "I have seen Gawaboshtigwan, or White Head" (Father du Ranquet). "And have you never before thought of becoming a Christian," said the priest. "No," said he. "Well," said the priest, "do you want to be baptized?" "Yes," he answered, "I want to be baptized and my whole family with me."  

Then the priest showed him a large picture or Pictorial Catechism, on which were two roads, a Black Road and a White Road, that is, the road to hell in black and the road to heaven in white, and the old man said: "I have never walked in that road" (pointing to the Black Road). 

The priest said: "Have you never been drunk, danced, disobeyed your parents?" 

"No," said the old man, "I have never done anything of that kind." Old Snowbird had grown-up sons and one daughter, some of whom on Sunday would come to church and Old Snowbird, the father, would have his picture of the "Two Roads" under his arm and he would sit on the round near the church. 

Old Snowbird did not know "A" from "B" but he could explain what he knew about the pictures in such a way that it was as good as a sermon for his listeners. Father Specht took occasion in connection with this story to show us how necessary is the grace of God in effecting a conversion. 

For thirty years, Old Snowbird had seen the priest go in and out, at least, at intervals, among his people, but never before had it occurred to him that the Catholic religion was the true one and that he ought to embrace it. Grace had never before spoken to him on this point. Now that he heard its gentle whisperings he heartily embraced its sacred promptings. 

Then, too, it was because Old Snowbird had led such a good life that he merited to be received into the true fold. He had sacredly kept the Commandments, the natural law written in every human heart by the Creator's hand, and St. Thomas teaches that were it necessary for God to send an angel to save those who are of good will, they will not be lost. The writer thinks that Father Specht was the angel sent by God to Snowbird. 

You'll see a photo of my great-grandmother attached. If you've never researched your heritage, it comes highly recommended by me. Be proud of who you are and where you came from. People always told me that being 1/8th Native American wasn't legitimate. But my whole life I've felt this undeniable connection with nature and the earth and I've always felt a connection to the Native American history and culture. I'm going to try and be proud of who I am and not let what people think affect me anymore. My great-grandmother was someone to be proud of, someone who raised my grandfather on the reservation, and someone who knew how to write very well. I can't stop smiling after finding this story. What a powerful and humbling feeling it is to feel a connection to this part of me. It may only be 1/8th of my heritage, but it reserves a very large part of my heart.