It’s been one year since Dad took the Journey. Dad said that the “old timers” would say they were going to Big Sandy to hunt buffalo with their fathers. Now, he can join Da-Wan in the Great Buffalo Country in the Spirit World. Da-Won is Bob Tail, a.k.a. Tom Main, our grandfather. He will also see Little Mike and Oliver, our brothers who left this world early and he will join his mother and all of his loved ones. He will be greatly missed by many.
I last saw Dad at the Hill County Jail where he visited me for one last time. Snuffy and Mom were the only ones allowed to accompany him into the jail. No other family was present, only armed policemen standing with a hand resting on the butt of their sidearm. I was tightly shackled, both hand and foot. But, little did anyone know how free my spirit raced from place to place where Dad and I went on our travels. He looked proud and very peaceful, just like he had gone to sleep. I didn’t want to wake him. Actually, it seemed like he might sit up and start singing with me when I sang him a song for his journey. We smudged. I cut my hair and sent the memories and mystery that hair cutting possesses with him. I thanked him for all of the things he taught me and shared with me. He told me before that he would help me from the Spirit World. I felt his spirit as close as ever and still feel it.
When I got to Deer Lodge and was put into population, the first thing I noticed was a sweat lodge and a tipi while I was crossing the yard. Not long after, a thunderstorm came with lightning, thunder, rain and hail. In the morning, the sweat would start and I knew he was there. All of the Native brothers paid respects for his passing. He was well-known and respected among the brothers and staff that knew him there. This was my first time out in the open sky, sun, wind and earth under my feet since the more than two-and-a-half years that I spent in the Hill County Jail. It reminded me of coming out of a Sun Dance. I knew Dad sat in this same sweat lodge many times with the Native brothers. I never once forgot about the rest of my family who are grieving, especially Mom. I remembered what Dad told me when I was small. He said, “Mom will always be the closest thing to you, no matter what happens.” He would always say how strong of a woman she is and how strong her side of the family was.
Dad loved his children and grandchildren equally. He may have seen some more than others, but his love was consistent and even. He traditionally adopted and raised his grandson, Mike, and suffered a great loss and another test for him and Mom. His great grandson, Anthony, was the next to be my little brother. So, there were always four generations around the house at beautiful Big Warm. Mike and Anthony both have visible traits of their grandfather, Ga-ah-woo-wus, even if it were cussing a blue streak while trying to fix something. But, generosity, strength and wisdom were Dad.
Once, when he came to stay with me in Kumeyaay Country in Southern California, I introduced him to an elder named Tony Pinto. Tony said Dad was a “young fella” because Tony was about 96 or so, but in good, mobile health. Tony took us out in the mountains to Eiapyiip (his reservation). He told us the story of his people and showed us the Sacred Leaning Rock where their creation began. He really must have liked us to share that. Later, we went and ate with some kids at the office, and he wanted Dad to pray and offer the food. After Dad went back to Montana, Tony was up at the office one day. In fact, he was there everyday. Anyway, he was always quiet and all of a sudden he said, “Your dad is a medicine man!” It caught me by surprise and I said, “He never did tell me anything about that.” Tony kind of scolded me and said, “He won’t tell anyone.” People like Tony, throughout the country, had that level of respect for Dad. I know he really made people laugh with his stories and his charisma. Laughter is good medicine.
Later on, when Dad had a sudden heart attack and had to go through 16 hours of surgery, I had to agree with Tony that he had medicine. Actually, I always thought so. To live through the open heart surgery with its devastating complications was a miracle. And the Creator let him stay with us for several more years. During the surgery, Dad took a journey into the Spirit World. Long ago, Dad told me stories of his grandfather, Lone Fly. Dad had his eagle wing fan. He said that if I ever really wanted something, to pray with that fan. When Dad was out of surgery, we went to Big Warm and had a sweat lodge ceremony. We asked Big Bill, a.k.a. Stoney (a Stoney Indian) to run the sweat and pray for Dad. I got the fan and told him the story that Dad told. So, he said he would tell the spirits to interpret our prayers. We went back to the hospital in Great Falls and sat with Dad who was still fighting for his life. I was sitting with him in ICU when he came out of it. He came up swinging and threw a left at a nurse’s aide. They put him back out with sedative medicine, but I knew then that our prayers had been answered. Dad slowly woke up, but couldn’t talk or move his limbs enough to communicate. He had a hole in his throat from the breathing machine. The first noise he made was when he sang the AIM song from the hole in his throat. It made me weak and humble, but proud. I left and went back to work in California.
When I came back a month or so later, he was in rehab and told me the story of the journey he took while he was out. He said he went to three places. The first place, he saw his grandfather, Lone Fly, riding with a couple other old Indians. The second place, he was on a hillside overlooking a big Indian camp. He said it looked really peaceful in that camp, but said he couldn’t even describe how lonely it felt on that hillside. He saw a horse with a travois coming from the camp up to where he was. A really pretty Indian woman was on the horse pulling the travois, maybe to take him down to the camp. She looked right at him, then turned her head and rode away. He said it was lonely.
The next place he went was inside of a big lodge and the people he named who were there were the same ones that were in the sweat lodge with Stoney. He said everyone was up in the air high in the lodge and spinning around like a merry-go-round. All of a sudden, everyone landed on the floor and he was still in the air going around the top of the lodge. He was really scared and got mad at Stoney. Dad was in the condition he was in after surgery and Stoney was laughing. He told Dad he had to touch a spot on his chest and say “mitok-o-yos-in,” which means “all my relations” in Lakota. Dad said he couldn’t move his arms and hands to touch the spot and was really mad at Stoney for the way he was laughing. And with all of his will power, he touched the spot and said, “Mitok-o-yos-in.” That’s when he woke up and took a swing at the nurse’s aide in the ICU room.
So, I want to say, “Thank you” to Stoney and the people in that sweat lodge, and all the other prayers. I realized, for real, that Dad wouldn’t be with us forever, so I was able to record his stories and information between his two journeys. I’m sure he is in that peaceful camp now! I’m guessing the pretty woman was his grandmother, Hiding Woman, who died not long after giving birth to Thomas Main. The spirits must have pitied us and let him come back to stay for a few more years.
Respect from all the brothers in the Montana State Prison system. Thanks to all of our family, friends and relatives who helped and attended Dad’s funeral. My spirit was there, but my body wasn’t. “Hang in there Mom. You are the bomb!”
AHO,
James Main, Jr. #3002286
3800 N. Ulm Frontage Rd.
Great Falls, MT 59404
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