Day Twenty: Stump Fields, Driving Tests, and Hopi Ceremonies
6/29/11:
At nineteen years of age, I thought the days of driving tests were over. Not so.
After a three hour long “Defensive Driving” course (attended a few days earlier), Yelena and I found ourselves taking turns behind the (government) wheel as we headed out into the KNF with Neil. This was the moment when I had to prove I wasn't a horrendously incapable driver. This was the moment when I had to show I was not overly prone to backing into ponderosas. This was the moment when Neil would decide if I was qualified to drive a government rig with a government license.
And man, did I want that license. Some of the KNF roads were plain awful, and driving them looked like plain old fun.
Neil, showing mercy, directed me along well-maintained roads to the Barney Flat Stump Field. A registered national historic landmark, the stump field attests to the original tree density of the KNF. I pulled over at the interpretive sign, and Neil pointed out the picture of a Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) group doing work around the stump field. Many years ago, Neil had serendipitously discovered that a friend and fellow Grinnellian had had a relative in the CCC and that this relative had worked at the stump field. From this Grinnellian, Neil had obtained the photo now commemorated on the Barney Flat Stump Field sign.
Apparently, we Grinnellians (and our ancestors) have a thing for Arizona. Or maybe stumps.
We drove on. A few more roads, a couple of turns, me not hitting anything, and I had myself a government license. The feeling of power was intoxicating, especially seeing as Yelena and I were the first of Neil's interns to get licensed to drive government vehicles.
My egoism, somewhat curbed by the discovery that my shiny new government license was a square of paper, was fairly deflated by the realization that I was expected to laminate said square-of-paper-license myself.
A wee bit anticlimactic after the stump field, los hombres (Joel, Noah, Travis) and I continued the day by recording sites on the Cureton Ranch. We found three POIs (Points of Interest): two rock art sites and a Cohonina arrow head.
I was, as always, incredibly helpful. While Joel and Travis sketched petroglyphs and Noah recorded site data at a rock art site, I marked the area on our Juno and quickly retired to the upper limbs of an old juniper tree, offering support and encouragement to those below.
As we made our way from site to site, Joel pointed out the edible sumac berries and, after a moment’s hesitation, I popped one in my mouth, surprised by the tart bitterness of the dark red berry. I inquired after the stalk grass that curled delicately at the end, figuring Joel would know about this too, and learned that it was gramma grass.The door to asking questions thrown open thusly, I peppered Joel with questions about Hopi traditions. He told me about the Hopi puberty ceremonies that all young men and women were supposed to go through.
For girls, part of this ceremony meant grinding corn in special houses where men were not prohibited. Small “whistle” windows were included in the houses so that a boy could whistle at a girl inside, signifying his interest in her. If both mother and daughter approved of the match, the young woman would whistle back, and a courtship would begin; however, if either mother or daughter was against the match, then it was too bad buddy.
Joel was vague about the young men’s ceremony and told me that the Hopi were not allowed to reveal many of their customs as dictated by tradition. What he did tell, however, was pretty unfortunate: in the eighties, the items necessary to complete the men’s coming-of-age ceremony were stolen. When the thief feared he would be caught, instead of returning the items, he destroyed them. Since then, no Hopi boys have completed the puberty ceremony.
Joel, despite having children of his own now, has not been able to experience this ceremony.
Photos: 1. Government license (!) 2. A juniper tree 3. Gramma grass
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