While I
was writing the other day, I was drawn to the curious assortment of objects
that have collected at the corner of my desk. The pile is composed of items
from nature: a 7,700 year old fossil of a bone from Mt. Mazama; a pocked rock
from the top of Mary’s Peak, a place of spiritual power for the tribes of the
Willamette Valley; a rock from the Pacific Ocean impregnated with miniature
seashell fossils; a dentalium storage container made by a member of the
Kalapuya tribe; a piece of chert with a streak of quartz right through the
center; and two acorns from a graveyard.
These
treasures remain on my desk because of the constant hold they have on my
thoughts. I spent some time this past spring with the state archaeologist and
members of the Kalapuya tribe. We wandered through the woods together and I was
privileged to learn firsthand from them. One of the members of the tribe is an
archaeologist who works with flint, antlers, and stone. He made replicas of
some of the early items used by the Kalapuya and I was able to procure a
dentalium storage container from him. Dentalium was the currency of the
Kalapuya. It was made of shells harvested from the ocean with long brooms. The
natural holes of the dentalium made them easy to string together or be kept in
a purse, until they were needed for the purchase of an item. The dentalium
container I have is made from an antler. On one side of the antler, an oval
opening has been carved and the center of the antler, carefully hollowed out;
this is where the dentalium was stored. A strip of hide was tied around the
container to keep it secure, and a hole was drilled in the top of the purse, so
it could be fastened around the neck or on a belt.
The
second item was a treasure I found myself. Recently I learned how mortar and
pestles were made by the Kalapuya tribes in this area. The bowls were
deliberately carved using chert because it is a rock that is harder than most.
I searched to see what chert looked like and found it to be a reddish-brown
stone with a smooth look to it. This summer as I was hiking along the Santiam
Wagon Road I was looking down at the path as I walked since that part of the
trail was filled with copious amounts of exposed roots. Right in the middle of
the trail my eyes were drawn to a piece of reddish-brown stone about 1 ½ inches
long. I instantly recognized it as chert and excitedly picked it up. As I
examined it, I noticed it had a streak of quartz going from one end to the
other. I rubbed my thumb over the smooth side and turned it around in my hand.
I carefully put it into my pocket and carried my prize home.
The most
recent addition to my desktop include two acorns from a cemetery. I enjoy
wandering around old cemeteries and have spent time in nearly all the pioneer
cemeteries near my home. A few months ago, my husband and I visited New York
for the first time. I was invited to give a presentation at the 40th Annual New
Netherland Institute Conference in Albany, New York. The theme of the
conference focused on women of New Netherland and I gave a presentation about
Catalina Trico. The cemeteries in New York are much older than those in the
west where I live. It was incredible to see the crumbling headstones with
unreadable names and dates sinking partially into the ground.
With some
searching one night, my husband discovered the cemetery where Catalina and some
of her family were buried, so the next day we found our way to the Flatbush
Dutch Reformed Church Cemetery, established by Peter Stuyvesant in 1654. The
church near the cemetery was under construction and the gate around the
cemetery was locked so we were not able to go inside. We stayed there a while
and thought about Catalina’s life and her final years in that area. As we
prepared to leave I hesitated, because I did not want to go. I looked around
for some physical token to carry home with me. As I gazed through the black
iron fence I spotted two sizeable acorns just a bit out of reach underneath an
oak tree near a crooked line of headstones. My husband grabbed a stick and meticulously pulled
the acorns towards us and within our reach. Sometimes I just hold one in my
hand as a connection to Catalina.
The
artifacts on my desk are links to the past from times and places that are
significant to me. They bring me within reach of events that happened long
before I ever arrived on the scene. Each of them are a physical reminder that
the past is still with us, that it can be touched, and that it must be
remembered.