Winter Wonderland on the Reservation

There’s something wonderful about a good, old fashioned snow storm. It makes one appreciate the gift of sight. And not only does it bring out the generosity of people, it makes us appreciate the power of Mother Nature and our connection to each other.

We started out in a thick downpour of the snowflakes Wednesday morning and ran into a tribal member with a snowplow. We didn’t “literally” run into him, thank goodness, we met him around the corner from our house and stopped to say, "Hi." He declined our wish to photograph him at work, and didn’t wish identification. “I’m just volunteering,” he said, and he volunteered to plow our driveway.

We thanked him and continued making a drive around the rez. We found the roads passable, probably due as much to tribal volunteers and to the big, yellow New York State plow truck that passed through in the wee hours of Wednesday morning, yellow lights flashing. Now that our status has changed from state tribe to federal tribe as of Oct. 1, 2010, we weren’t sure which outside entity, if any, would plow our roads; but it looks as though New York State is still with us. Thank you, Governor Cuomo.

We then ran into two tribal leaders. We met Trustee Gordell Wright on Old Point Road, and stopped to chat. He said he just finished digging out. Trustee Lance Gumbs was manning a small snow plow on a tribal member’s driveway on Arabash Road.

Our church and community center stand next door to each other at the heart of our community, where snow created a patina of softness right out of a picture book. It piled up on the various angles of roofs on the and on the holiday wreaths placed on both sides of the main entry.  The Community Center looked as though it was cozily and peacefully situated among tall oaks of the Eastern Woodlands. It was Currier and Ives all over the place.

Probably the most amazing sight of all was at the Powwow Grounds, where the little red food house, the ticket house and dance stage are located. The big drum-shaped platform almost disappeared in a snow drift that reached the top, a good five feet high.

Down at the bay, a few seagulls flapped their wings over the water. White caps were rushing in, which made the generally gentle Shinnecock Bay seem a bit angry . On the shore side, equipment utilized by the Shinnecock Shellfish Hatchery and Environmental Center also took a hit from the snow.

We ended our round of the rez at the Shinnecock flagpole, where snow was piled up around the pole and weighed down limbs of the few trees there. Old Glory was flying at half-staff to acknowledge the tragedy in Tucson. Our way of saying, "We respect President Obama’s request that flags be lowered for Tucson." Our way of saying, "We understand, and we are sorry for the senseless loss of life. We are connected, one to another."