Before We Knew the Years Had Numbers:The Memoirs of Laura Kerman, Tohono O'odham Woman* Karen Louise Reichhardt Photographs by Helga Teiwes Preface by Laura R. N. Reichhardt Preface I have the honor of being Laura Kerman's namesake, a gift my parents bestowed onto me, and one that I carry with great humility and great pride. My earliest fond childhood memories include sitting in her house while she told stories to my mother. My brother and I would sit on the floor and play with toys while my mom and Laura would sit in the living room at her house in Topawa. I remember the adobe walls, the sweet dusty smell of the earthen floors, and Catholic imagery decorating the tables and walls. When my brother and I were older, maybe 5 and 7 years old, I also remember her sending us off to a particular wash to dig up red clay for her pottery. She was more chair-bound than my earlier memories and asked us to fetch her more working material to keep her occupied during the days. Happily, we adventured off, following her directions by tree [End Page 437] and arroyo, until we found the exact location she described. It was nearby her house, and gave us something to do while she and my mother talked. I vividly remember her glee when we returned from our task. She was an exuberant woman in my memories, and her gratitude for us, as small children completing tasks for her, is a warmth and love that I feel very honored to have received. Later in her life, when I was nearing my teens, she was living in a long-term care facility and desperately missed creosote tea. As with our earlier instructions to fetch the clay, she again sent me out into the desert to collect creosote for her. Tucson's surrounding desert is filled with creosote, so her instructions this time focused on which stalks of the creosote bush to bring back. Again, like with the clay, she was exuberant with gratitude for this gift from the desert, and so lovingly appreciative of my journey. Laura Kerman is a woman who lived generously and opened her heart to many people throughout her life. Her bringing my family into the folds of her own is one of the greatest gifts we have been given, and with that, I write this passage. I hope you are able to understand the true and beautiful character Laura carried with her through the glimpses this article offers. I also offer my thanks to my mother, who put this publication on hold to raise my brother and me, and has finally revived these transcripts after nearly thirty years. Thank you for giving us your time and love. Introduction Before ever meeting Laura Kerman, a well-known Tohono O'odham potter, I came to know her through her clay figurines. I was a botanical research assistant at the Office of Arid Lands Studies, University of Arizona. I was married to Gary Nabhan, who was studying tepary beans for his master's thesis at the university's College of Agriculture. Father Richard Purcell, OFM, and Father Camillus Cavagnaro, OFM, were our good friends and Franciscan priests ministering at Catholic missions on the Tohono O'odham Indian Reservation in the late 1970s. They often talked about a "Christmas Cave" in Sycamore Canyon on the west side of Baboquivari Peak. This is a cave where Father Camillus had celebrated a Christmas Eve midnight mass to a handful of followers and a local Tucson TV reporter. During a botanical expedition to the Baboquivari, [End Page 438] being curious about what remained of the celebration, we stopped for a look at the cave. We parked our white Chevy Luv pickup and followed a steep, well-traveled path to a little cave entrance. We had been forewarned of the bat guano scent. We crawled inside and our flashlights illuminated a messy scene—a story of an elaborate celebration later scattered by bats, maybe a coyote or rattlesnake—oblivious to the significance of the objects that were placed for the service. We found a veritable reenactment of the town...
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Sep 10, 2023
Syifa Nadia Humaira + 1
Open Access