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RETURN OF THE WHITE BUFFALO - YouTube

RETURN OF THE WHITE BUFFALO - YouTube

Searching for My Native American Heritage

~ Joyce Little White Dove ~

I was born in Los Angeles, Veda Joyce Reinert. To Zelda Edith Clark, born in Ten Strike, MN on July 25, 1921, and Melvin Davis Reinert, born in Pawnee City, Nebraska, August 25, 1921. My Mother was a streetcar driver in downtown Los Angeles, and my Father was a bus driver, out of Phoenix, AZ. They were never married, so I learned of him at a later age.

I grew up in the Los Angeles area, in a little town called Sunland. It’s in the foothills of Southern California USA. My mother married Wallace G. Telford when I was a few months old. So my name growing up was Joyce Telford.

When I was about 4 years old, I would go to special places with my Grandfather. There they would use his name John Red Cloud. He was born on the Rosebud Reservation Sept. 22, 1894. Oglala Lakota Sioux. My Grandfather was the grandson of Chief Red Cloud. Grandpa was about 5 when Chief Red Cloud passed; he only had a little memory of him. My Grandfather told me to never talk about the dances or the places we went, as it was against the White man’s laws. Back then it still was.

Grandpa explained his two separate families. He called one his Native Father Jack Red Cloud, and Mother Nancy Good Cloud. He lived on the Reservation until he was 15. His white father William Allen Clark and mother Ruth C. Walker took him and his sister Dora B. They weren't allowed to speak their Native language or use their names. He was to forget he was Lakota, which they could never do. Grandpa's sister was older. She was able to keep her heritage, and go back to the Reservation.

When he would tell me of the Sundance - watching them pray and dance for the People, I could see it in his eyes, feel it in my heart. Then he would get so sad, as he missed his Lakota Family. He would say his heart was always there, and through him I am always there.

When he married my Grandmother Mina Ruth Abbott, born Dec. 5 1895 in Minnesota USA, they could not tell her family he was Native Sioux. It was kept between the two of them.

My grandparents moved from Minnesota to Santa Paula, California. They homesteaded, and built the farm. They were on a main highway so Grandma started a feed and pet store. Grandpa was a tree surgeon, and took care of the citrus trees in the Santa Paula area. They opened a nursery.

When my Children were in grammar school, I was called in. The school asked me if I was interested in putting my children in special Native American classes, as they would receive credits for them. Now remember I never told anyone I was part Lakota Sioux. So how did they know? I signed the papers. I gave the school everything I knew about my Grandfather. I never found out how the school knew. I know my mother knew. She would get mad at me and say things like “I’ll beat the Indian out of you” and would beat me with belts, hoses, sticks - whatever she had in her hand.

I knew it was ok now to share the stories of my Grandfather with my children. I showed them pictures where he was born. When my youngest son was born, I named him John, after my Grandfather. I explained things as they got older. I really didn’t understand why I had to prove who my grandparents were.

I took my children to visit their great Grandfather John Red Cloud. He had eye surgery, so he had some vision. Grandpa held John for a long time. My other two children, Debbie and David, sat with him. Grandpa with a big tear running down his cheek said, “This is my Red Cloud Family.”

I tried several time to call the Rosebud Reservation to ask about registration. I was told I have to live on the reservation or have family there. I have lots of family there, but they just don’t know me. They wanted no part of me. Everywhere I went it was the same.

I went to talk to someone on the reservation here. They took one look at me and didn’t even want to give me the papers to file. Just that I had to have all the numbers, and information on each person for five generations.

I started Ancestry about 8 years ago. I found my Grandfather, John Red Cloud. It took years but I gathered all the information they wanted, and guess what, they wouldn’t talk to me. I have been told because I don’t and have not lived on the Reservation. To Native America I am a white woman, and will never be accepted.

I have never given up, this is a part of me. It is my Soul. It is something my Grandfather gave me. He wanted it so bad. We use to pray to all our relations. We would do a fire circle and Grandpa would ask them to protect me. He would also ask for them to help find my way to the Family. He knew I belonged, and he wanted me to know.

My Family is happy with what I found, but I would still like to go further with it. I found a new friend and she is helping me now. I recently filed with the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota.

So now... I wait.

My Beautiful Smokey

Memories of me ridding my Beautiful Smokey

He was with me 30 years, he became my best friend. Because he was a family pet, he loved to chase Frisbee’s , basket balls, even used as a sled dog. You would never believe the things my oldest son did with him. In his last 10 years it was just him and me, I use to ride him up from the creek, he would stand by a rock so I could get on and bring me up to the house.

　

I was told about this horse, he would be a good 2^nd horse for us, as we were warring Freska out. So my Three children and I jumped in the car and drove to look at another horse. When we got there, we were taken to the back yard. There was this great big beautiful horse. He had a old freezer for his water. He could look in the house through the sliding glass door. There were two Great Danes, we were told he was raised with them.

The man went in the house to get his papers. Smokey’s father was Wyoming Silver Cloud. As we were reading the paperwork, this beautiful horse wanted my attention, he put his head under my arm knocking the paper work out of my hand. I laughed, at that moment I knew we were taking him home. I didn’t know how, as we drove a car here, and I didn’t have a trailer. I was told Smoke was broke, and we could ride him home. The only thing I had in my car was a lead rope and a halter.

So we went out in the field with him. I told the Kids Debbie and David, They could ride Smoke across the wash and to the stables. I would park the car there and walk back and meet them. I put David in the Front and Debbie in the back (they were going to ride double). Smoke sat down, and the 2 kids slid off. We were laughing so hard, we decided the one would lead and the other would ride, the would take turns. So I left with John and parked the car and walked back to meet Debbie and David. To my amazement the 2 kids were ridding Smokey and laughing so hard. David said Smoke is now broke.

It was a beautiful Saturday, we were heading out for a trail ride, I was with my Daughter, Debbie, she was ridding Freska, and I was ridding Smokey. I was using a Bosal, everything was going really well. Debbie got ahead of me, as Freska was use to the trail and mountains. Smokey saw them up top and wanted to cross up to be with them. It took everything I had and talking to him to keep him on the trail. We had a wonderful time, as long and Smokey could stay behind or beside Freska. If he could grab Freska’s tail he would have. My hands were bloody from pulling on Smokey, so I went looking for a bit. Found a roller bit after several different tries.

Smokey became more David’s horse, he would ride him all over the Desert. David would go visit a girl friend. The Girls loved Smokey and the Loved the attention. He would get a Flex shampoo bath with conditioner, his Tail and Main breaded, He would come home all fluffy and pretty, and smell so good. If David was at school, Smokey would pound on the corral waiting for him to come home.

We moved way out in the Desert on 50 Acers, our nearest neighbor was 5 miles away. One day David came home dragging a telephone pole with Smokey. 2 days later the Sheriff came in the yard, he said; “he followed the trail, wanted to know where I got the telephone pole, I told him. He told me to tell David to take it back, and no questions would be asked, (David was 16).” He also Laughed and said all he had to do is follow the trail. I told him David didn’t understand as it has been setting out there for many years. David drug it back, when he got home from school. He never brought anything home again, unless he had a note signed by the owner.

I moved up in the Mountains above Yosemite. It was beautiful there, Smokey and Freska were getting old. I was by myself now, so I didn’t ride much, when I did it was on my property. I would ride one and the other would follow. I didn’t need the saddle much or even bits, They were both my company and best friends. I got 3 other horses a Cow, 6 sheep, chickens, ducks, and a whole beautiful world there. Freska passed at 29 years, and Smokey at 32 years. Both had a wonderful life, and I truly miss them.

　

Joyce Little White Dove

My Taxi Day's

I lived in the High Desert. It was hard there hardly any Jobs. I had taken my Early retirement to go Trucking with my Husband then. That was the only way I could keep him in the Truck ( I thought-Wrong) So needing to Work I started a Taxi Service. I would pick up parts, people, anything I could to keep working. I got a car phone, Oh you remember those the battery took up most of my trunk and running wires.

I would be out to pick up a customer, there weren’t any street signs, so I would use the phone. One day I was out looking, I couldn’t find her for nothing. I called her on the phone, she laughed so hard ( as she was outside watching me). She said: “how did you get there, told me to turn right at the big rock, then left at the next trail”, when I did that I could see her, we laughed. Now I wasn’t in a 4 wheel drive. She showed me a good way out, we went shopping down in the Valley.

I picked up a Man headed off to town. He said he had to get something from a Friend would I wait for him, kept the meter running. He came back in about ½ hr. took him to the store and back home. He paid the bill, was a good run for me. The next time He called it was late abt 9pm. Took him to the same place waited outside, then home. Next time he called I told him I couldn’t pick him up any more. DAAAAAAA

I had accounts with Parts stores, Drug stores, Liquor stores, all kind s of things I would pick up and deliver

Hard to get a Job that paid anything, so I started another Taxi. Used my San Bernardino license to get the new one.  I moved up in the Mountains, It was so beautiful.  I  ran, Southern Cal, and Northern Ca

To pay the Insurance fees I started advertising on the Taxi Cab. Sold signs on top and doors and

back end. That paid to keep the cab running. It was great. I hared out to the local bars for a fee to help with gas. I depended on tips.

Years ago I ran a Taxi, after hours I would find young Girls hanging out in under stair ways, in some very dangerous places. So I would offer to take them home. It got so they would call me I would take them Home.

One night I got a 911 call at the lake, the phone booth number was on my phone. I made a list of the phone booths so I would know where they were coming from. I drove around the Lake, it was dark about 2am. Where the phone was is at the Far end in a very deserted area. I drove very slow, put the Taxi light on as bright as I could.

She was hiding in the bushes, came running and got in the Cab crying. asked her home or, the PD. With a gulp and fear She Said home. She didn’t say much just cired. When we got to her house, I parked across the street, waited until she went in and Her light went on. I flashed the Taxi light and she turned her light off and on. It was about a week when a call came in on the Taxi line it was her Father, thanking me for saving His Daughter Life, there was a write up in the Local paper.

I went to the Local Police Dept. and asked if they had a place I could take the Young People, if for some reason they just didn’t want to go home. I was told I shouldn’t be taking them in my Taxi, just call the Police and they would pick them up. I could and would not ever do that, There was no place to lake them. So I called the local Churches and other people to help. Do you know I never found anyone to help. So If I found one that was hurt or sick, I took them to the Emergency Room, or I would ask do you want to go home, or the PD station 90% it was Home.

Pulled into the Club to pick up a passenger. Had to go up stares, under the stair case I saw 3 young Girls (about 15), talking to a not very nice Man. I parked my Cab, and walked up to the Girls. Told them to get in the Cab ( in a very loud voice) NOW!!.

They didn’t even question me they got in the Cab.  I locked the doors, and windows. Turned around and Said; Home or the PD, of course they said home.  The Girls asked me how I knew they were in Trouble. Told them because they weren’t smiling. They were also in a place they never should be. I took them home. Later that week I went to fill my Cab with gas, I was told it was paid for. 

The Taxi was hired to take passengers to and from a large party held in hall up in the mountains. It was a long twisting road. Had made several trips, everything was going well.

Pulled in to pick up a couple, I knew them very well. Now my Taxi was a white Chevy. Expect for the yellow light on the top It looked like a cop car.

The Gentleman was very drunk, he saw the car and freaked out. He took off running, across the road and down the hill falling and getting up again. There was people out looking for him. I heard him yell “ I’m not getting in that _____ing Car. He was a small man, but it still took 4 men to get him in the Cab.

Now we headed down the Road, going as fast as I dared. Twisting up and down hills Him yelling all the way. Now we get to there door. His wife gets him out of the cab and up the steps to the door. All of a sudden He is in a fight with the screen door ( I never saw anything like it). Off comes the screen door, down he comes with the screen door. Now picture a full grown man laying on his back with a screen door on top of him. Then he gets up grabs the door again, off the deck he goes with the door between deck and car parked below. Yelling, screaming. He wife goes in the house, I drive off laughing and shaking my head.

Next Day His wife calls and thanks me for taking them home. He didn’t have a scratch, spent the night with the screen door.

Where Eagles Dare

I told a Gentle man a cute little story. I was about 15 working in my parents shop. A long haired, bearded man came into the store. we talked about many things. He start to draw, when he was done He gave the picture to me. It was a Eagle with a Dove in his Wing.  He said I was the eagles heart. 

  Years later I saw the same picture in a store.  
  I wish I still had it, but it disapered like most things do. I have looked everywhere for a copy.

This is the Poem my Friend sent me, I have several others of his, but I don't know where he went or who he is. just He is Carl.

Where Eagles Dare

　

Fools rush in and love is blind

'Tis for love that make the doves to cry

But true love is patient and kind

Where angels tread and the eagles fly

　

Love to me is just for the daring

A risky venture full of peril and chance

With great rewards of comfort and sharing

And the music stil plays as we dance

　

They say that love is a hurting thing

So if hurting is love's validation

Give me love and all it has to bring

And I'll take all the pain with elation

　

Dare me to love, I D-double-dog-dare

Do you dare to feel my love?

Love is forever so best prepare

'Cause　the eagle flies with the dove

　

I love you has become such a cliché

An admission that I gladly share

True love has always been that way

While doves cry where eagles dare

　

Carl ©

My Name Joyce Little White Dove

When I was very little, my grandfather would take me to Pow Wows, and other ceremonies. One day at one of the Pow Wows he took me to see a Lady. They dressed me in a beautiful White leather dress with feather and beautiful blue beads. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I had a hair piece, made of Feathers. My moccasins were white leather with the same blue beads.

That night at the Fire dance, was given my pouch with my crystal and my name in it. There was also a piece with a small dream catcher and a feather hanging down. One of the pictures with my Great Great Grandfather, he is wearing one just like it. Grandpa explained, I was to get my earth or native name. My pouch came from my Great Grandmother (Pretty Owl) . As to why I was chosen I didn’t understand until years later.

So Grandpa danced, sang. I got to dance and sing that night also. He said my name Little White Dove and asked the Great Sprit for a sign. There was a beautiful Dove that landed in a tree by us singing. Later a Little Dove landed on a rock near us. He said: your name is Little White Dove.
Every tine I got to wear my dress and feathers I felt like a bird, I would sing and dance and be fee.
The little Dove was hurt; we took her home and mended her wing. When She was well we set her free; Grandpa blamed me for all the Wild Brown and White ring neck Doves. I would laugh when he told people.
　

When my Grandfather passed, I went to the cemetery after everyone was gone. I danced, burned sage. The doves came and sang with me. I feel Grandpa flew off with his beloved Doves. His sprit is free and singing his songs.

So my Friends when I play my flute by the River and the Doves come, I am with my Grandpa once again.

Blessings and Love
Joyce Little White Dove