I'm from the Eastern Shawnee Tribe of Oklahoma, but I've lived in Denver for quite a few years. I have a friend that also lives in Denver who is originally from Oklahoma. We got talking about how homesick we were, and he suggested that we go spend a couple of weeks with his grandma but informed me of two things.
The first was that his grandmother might not be particularly fond of Shawnee people. This was because of a thing that had happened between our tribes in the late 1800s. The second thing was that she could be a little bit persistent about inviting people to go to church with her on Sunday.
I grew up with an Irish Catholic mother and a Shawnee father, and so I was very open to all kinds of different spiritual beliefs. Thus I promised my friend that I could be diplomatic with his grandmother if she was persistent with her invitations, and I even thought that maybe I could win her over to liking Shawnee people.
When we got inside, he introduced us. I addressed her as Miss Myrtle to show extra respect. Her greeting was polite but not particularly warm. But over the next week I took her to Tulsa to run errands (做琐碎的事情), I fixed her chicken coop, and I used all my best manners to win her over. At dinner that night she said to me, "You know, Alistair, it's been nice having you here. Now, you know this Sunday is Mother's Day. Of course, at my age I never know if this could be my last Mother's Day. There's just one thing I want. I would like you to be my special guest at church on Sunday."
We got to the church. People walked up the center aisle and put some money into this little wooden collection box, and that bought them the privilege of inviting somebody from the congregation (集会) up to sing a "Special." A Special, it turned out, is a solo hymn (赞美诗；圣歌). And then Miss Myrtle started up the aisle. When she reached the front, she scanned the congregation, found me, and said, "My grandson brought a friend with him from Denver. His name is Alistair, and he is from the Eastern Shawnee Tribe. But he is a very nice person. Alistair, I would like you to come up here and sing us a Special."
I immediately began making "no" gestures and grinning. But my friend had grabbed me by the arm and was guiding me over his knees in the narrow pew. He said, "Grandma's going to be so happy."
And the next thing I knew, I was out in the center aisle, and it almost felt like there was some invisible force pushing me toward the front of the church. It could have been God. And I was hoping that, if it was God, when I reached the microphone, God would choose that moment to work a super-big miracle and make it so that I could sing.
The music started, and I started to sing. "Michael, row your boat ashore, alleluia. Michael, row your boat ashore ..." It was about the time I reached the second alleluia (哈利路亚的欢呼声) that I realized that was in fact the only line I remembered.
And then, finally, I stopped. The organist, who was not quite sure what was happening, continued to play, but when she realized it was finally over, she stopped in kind of an abrupt way, and then there was silence, and in that silence I walked back down the aisle. Suddenly an applause broke out and then more and more joined in. I sat back down. Miss Myrtle was on the other side of me. But once I was settled in my seat, she leaned toward me slightly and said, "I don't believe I've ever met someone that didn't know at least one hymn." There wasn't a whole lot I could say about that, so I was just like, "Happy Mother's Day."
