Poem: "Alice Walks the Sky Road"
This poem came out of the October 4, 2022 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by prompts from Dreamwidth users Zeeth_kyrah, Curiosity, and Cat_sanctuary. It also fills the "Never camp or build homes on Indian burial grounds." square in my 10-1-22 card for the Fall Festival Bingo. This poem has been sponsored by DW user Fuzzyred. It belongs to the Rutledge thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.
"Alice Walks the Sky Road"
[1930s-present]
When the state of Vermont
wanted to build an airport
near Rutledge, they needed
the support of the Abenaki.
They did not get it, because
the proposed plan would eat up
hundreds of acres that had once
belonged to a reservation which
had already been whittled down
to a few fragments of the original,
which itself had been only a sliver
of the tribe's once-vast territory.
The Abenaki had ground through
years of lawsuits trying to recover
their stolen land, with few successes,
but they weren't giving up without a fight.
Worse, the new runways would cut right
over holy places including a burial ground
from their ancestors and a sacred site
dedicated to the sky spirits, complete with
a stone circle surrounding a landing pad.
Of course the Abenaki were furious,
and the residents of Rutledge -- who
had spent decades trying to patch up
a relationship with the tribe -- weren't
happy about the proposal either.
"Never camp or build homes
on Indian burial grounds,"
the townsfolk warned
the surveyors. "That
always leads to trouble."
There had been stories of
strange things happening
after that. You never knew.
Alice Walks the Sky Road was
a teenager when the talks started.
She and her friends made a huge stink
about the planned airport. Not only did
they make it clear they'd continue protesting
and embarrassing the builders, they also
went through Rutledge reminding everyone
how the government had broken promises.
How could anyone trust that Vermont
would honor these agreements?
The local environmentalists were
already unhappy about plans to clearcut
a lot of trees to build the new airport.
Eventually the project director
came to them with the idea
of shifting the runways slightly
to preserve the original landing pad
as well as the burial ground nearby.
The Abenaki would gain control
of about two acres of meadow and
forest around the stone circle
plus the burial ground itself,
but they would have to work
with the airport personnel
to coordinate any activities.
After listening to the proposal,
the Abenaki agreed to relinquish
a portion of their old tribal territory for
the airport in return for three things:
1) The state would trade the tribe
another piece of land to replace what
they had given over to the airport.
2) The airport would preserve
the traditional landing circle
for people with spirit powers
pertaining to flight or travel.
3) Abenaki tribe members
would receive free access to
air travel, pilot training, and
other airport services if they
wished to make use of those.
Alice, like most of the younger folks,
felt it was better to have some land
that they actually controlled rather
than keep fighting over a piece
that they just used to control.
It wasn't quite perfect, but it was
close enough for getting on with.
Alice was 20 years old during
the groundbreaking ceremony
for the Rutledge-Abenaki Airport
in 1940, with her daughter Amelia
held on her back with a blanket.
The Christian priest from Rutledge
and an Abenaki medicine woman
stood side by side to give blessings.
It was time to move on, together,
and get along as best they could.
Alice was 22 years old during
the opening ceremony in 1942.
She marched straight from there
to the office. "I want to apply
for flying lessons," she declared.
She was Alice Walks the Sky Road
because of a family legend that, once,
her ancestors had the ability to fly.
She was determined to join them.
"Who's going to watch the baby?"
the piloting instructor asked,
looking down at Amelia.
Alice was about to point out
that any of her relatives could,
when the secretary said, "I will."
So that was how Alice got her wings
and Amelia spent enough time with
white people that she got along
with them better than Alice did.
It was always a delicate dance
between appropriation and
appreciation, but they did
the best that they could.
The airport gift shop sold
tribal-themed T-shirts and
various knickknacks, but other
than a reasonable commission,
that money went to the Abenaki.
Besides, the tribal connection helped
attract more tourists to the airport,
which boosted the local economy,
and the tribe benefited from that.
When the war started, the Air Force
didn't really want women, but Vermont
was more than happy to have women
willing to take over essential air freight
or fly planes from factories to airports,
replacing male pilots gone to war.
Alice gained a great deal of flight time
and earned a lot of money very fast.
Then word came that one of the pilots
from Rutledge had gone down over
Germany and nobody knew what
happened to him since that night.
"We have to try something,"
Alice said to her friends, and
they all nodded their agreement.
She talked with the medicine people,
who talked with the airport people, and
they all stood in the stone circle praying.
Grant Ballantrae was found four days later.
He wasn't in very good shape -- he would
never fly again -- but they brought him
home and that was enough for his family.
Even after the war ended, Alice had
so much experience that she managed
to keep working although most women
got fired once the men came home.
Those were good years, when
the country bounced back and
most people were happy with life.
Amelia fell in love with a veteran
who was a bit of a mess, and in 1959
they had a daughter named Feather.
Alice kept her mouth shut about
Amelia's choices and just doted
on her granddaughter instead.
"Somebody has to be the grown-up,"
she explained when her friends
wondered why she didn't object
to the questionable relationship.
In 1961, Amelia and her family
moved to Emerald Mountain Glen,
a new "hippie" commune starting up.
The townsfolk in Rutledge thought
that the hippies were weird and lazy
and dirty, sure to bring trouble
with them wherever they went.
Alice went out to the commune
and learned that they sure as hell
weren't lazy, because they were
digging up gardens everywhere and
building what looked like a house.
They weren't any dirtier than
anyone else doing hard work,
and at the end of the day, they
piled into the brook to wash.
Alice began to understand
what Amelia saw in them.
They weren't Abenaki, but they
were less unlike Abenaki than
most white people were -- and
they weren't all white, either.
There were multiple folks
of obviously mixed race,
at least one Negro person,
and several from-India Indians.
It wasn't a bad place, they weren't
bad people, and Alice wouldn't
mind visiting her family here.
The 1970s were interesting times.
Environmentalism was growing,
which was something to encourage.
The hippies and the Abenaki
became comfortable companions.
Connections with Rutledge were
gradually strengthening, too.
The Abenaki sometimes sent
a representative to attend
important town meetings, and
less often, invited a friend
out to a tribal meeting.
"We're making progress,"
Alice observed. "Challenges
notwithstanding, that's good."
Feather was sky-mad from
the beginning, so Alice wasn't
surprised when she moved into
Rutledge and became a pilot.
In 1977, Feather had a daughter,
Willa. The auspicious birth of
a great-granddaughter made
the elders on the reservation
start asking, then pushing, and
eventually hounding Alice
to set aside piloting and come
help them to manage the tribe.
"A grandmother is not a quarterback,"
Alice said firmly. "I have more than
enough other things to do already."
Alice held them off for nearly
a decade, but they had a point
and she knew it. A tribe needed
grandparents to guide it properly.
Besides, Feather had more kids
and it was getting harder for her
to find someone to watch all of them.
So in 1985, Alice withdrew from
regular piloting work and spent
more time on the reservation.
She still took several flights
a week, but no longer filled
the whole work week with them.
The tribe needed every hand
they could get. White people in
a lot of places were panicking
over kids with medicine powers.
"All right, it can be alarming when
young folk without much experience
come into a lot of power," Alice grumbled,
"but no problem is so bad that panic
can't make matters a lot worse!"
Banning the kids from school was
not only discriminatory and liable
to wreck their future, it wouldn't help
them learn to control their abilities either.
Alice spent a good ten years in activism
aimed at keeping kids in school, but in
the end they hammered out laws that
balanced education and safety pretty well.
The educational consultants helped keep
kids learning while they couldn't attend class,
and it turned out most could safely attend
school within a year of manifestation.
That turned out to be a good thing,
as in 1994, Willa had a daughter, Emily.
Alice's great-great granddaughter seemed
ordinary enough at first, but by the time
she was walking, relatives noticed that
when Emily tripped, she didn't always fall.
Sometimes she just wobbled a little and
then righted herself, other times she
sort of drifted toward the ground.
It wasn't until Emily became a woman
that she actually learned how to fly.
There was this boy. Of course there was.
"It's always safe to talk to a grandmother,"
Alice assured Emily. "So talk. I'll listen."
Emily talked, and Alice listened. It was
odd, even though young love was common.
It's just that, for most people, falling in love
doesn't mean literally walking on air.
When Emily finally wound down,
Alice told her the family stories
and reminded her why they were
called Walks the Sky Road.
"So much has been lost
over the years, but in you
it returns," said Alice. "Come,
let's go to the airport. You have
a right to use it, and they're used
to teaching people how to fly --
even if most need an airplane."
The years of work had paid off,
the balance between appropriation
and appreciation easier to find.
It was more of a give and take now,
less tug-of-war over what's "mine."
Most of the tribal-themed things
in the gift shop now came from
actual Abenaki tribe members.
"Is that you, Grandmother?"
Emily squeaked, pointing to
an old black-and-white photo
of a woman in an airplane.
"Yes, that's me," said Alice.
"I worked here when your mother
was a little girl, and a long time
after then too. I enjoyed that."
The airport staff were delighted
to see her. "Alice!" one exclaimed.
"What brings you back here?"
"My granddaughter Emily is
learning to fly," Alice explained.
"Emily, would you show them?"
The girl got a dreamy look and
drifted away from the floor.
And people applauded.
Startled, Emily dropped
back onto her feet.
"As you can see, she
still needs to work on
her control," said Alice.
"We have mental exercises
to teach pilots how to focus,"
said the instructor. "We
can start with those."
"She'll also need to learn
how to interface with
Air Traffic Control if she
wants to use the circle,"
Alice said. "She belongs
to the tribe so she already
knows the Tribal Liaison."
"So let's lay out a plan,"
the instructor said. "Emily,
what is your schedule like?
This has to fit around school."
Emily took out her datebook
and found times when she could
visit the airport for flying lessons.
"Have you told your ancestors yet?"
one of the secretaries wondered.
"If not, you should probably drop by
the burial ground while you're here."
"I hadn't even thought of that,"
Emily admitted. "I mean, Mom
told them I had something back
when I first started drifting, but this
is way more. Yeah, we should go."
So after finalizing the schedule,
and picking out materials that
Emily would need for studying,
they rode out in an airport truck.
As soon as they arrived, Emily
bounded out of the vehicle.
Alice followed more slowly,
her joints stiff in the cool air.
"Hello, Old Ones," said the girl.
"I am Emily Walks the Sky Road --
and look, I'm learning to fly!"
She pushed off and flew
in a low, graceful arc.
Scarlet leaves rose from
the ground in a twist of wind,
dancing around her body,
coaxing her higher into the air.
Alice let her get overhead,
then said, "All right, that's
plenty. You can show more
after you've learned more."
Emily landed in a crouch,
then straightened. "Okay,"
she said. "We'll return later."
She danced on her toes, twirling
in place. "I want to learn how
to fly. I want to learn everything!"
"You have time," Alice assured her.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character, location, and content notes appear separately.
"Alice Walks the Sky Road"
[1930s-present]
When the state of Vermont
wanted to build an airport
near Rutledge, they needed
the support of the Abenaki.
They did not get it, because
the proposed plan would eat up
hundreds of acres that had once
belonged to a reservation which
had already been whittled down
to a few fragments of the original,
which itself had been only a sliver
of the tribe's once-vast territory.
The Abenaki had ground through
years of lawsuits trying to recover
their stolen land, with few successes,
but they weren't giving up without a fight.
Worse, the new runways would cut right
over holy places including a burial ground
from their ancestors and a sacred site
dedicated to the sky spirits, complete with
a stone circle surrounding a landing pad.
Of course the Abenaki were furious,
and the residents of Rutledge -- who
had spent decades trying to patch up
a relationship with the tribe -- weren't
happy about the proposal either.
"Never camp or build homes
on Indian burial grounds,"
the townsfolk warned
the surveyors. "That
always leads to trouble."
There had been stories of
strange things happening
after that. You never knew.
Alice Walks the Sky Road was
a teenager when the talks started.
She and her friends made a huge stink
about the planned airport. Not only did
they make it clear they'd continue protesting
and embarrassing the builders, they also
went through Rutledge reminding everyone
how the government had broken promises.
How could anyone trust that Vermont
would honor these agreements?
The local environmentalists were
already unhappy about plans to clearcut
a lot of trees to build the new airport.
Eventually the project director
came to them with the idea
of shifting the runways slightly
to preserve the original landing pad
as well as the burial ground nearby.
The Abenaki would gain control
of about two acres of meadow and
forest around the stone circle
plus the burial ground itself,
but they would have to work
with the airport personnel
to coordinate any activities.
After listening to the proposal,
the Abenaki agreed to relinquish
a portion of their old tribal territory for
the airport in return for three things:
1) The state would trade the tribe
another piece of land to replace what
they had given over to the airport.
2) The airport would preserve
the traditional landing circle
for people with spirit powers
pertaining to flight or travel.
3) Abenaki tribe members
would receive free access to
air travel, pilot training, and
other airport services if they
wished to make use of those.
Alice, like most of the younger folks,
felt it was better to have some land
that they actually controlled rather
than keep fighting over a piece
that they just used to control.
It wasn't quite perfect, but it was
close enough for getting on with.
Alice was 20 years old during
the groundbreaking ceremony
for the Rutledge-Abenaki Airport
in 1940, with her daughter Amelia
held on her back with a blanket.
The Christian priest from Rutledge
and an Abenaki medicine woman
stood side by side to give blessings.
It was time to move on, together,
and get along as best they could.
Alice was 22 years old during
the opening ceremony in 1942.
She marched straight from there
to the office. "I want to apply
for flying lessons," she declared.
She was Alice Walks the Sky Road
because of a family legend that, once,
her ancestors had the ability to fly.
She was determined to join them.
"Who's going to watch the baby?"
the piloting instructor asked,
looking down at Amelia.
Alice was about to point out
that any of her relatives could,
when the secretary said, "I will."
So that was how Alice got her wings
and Amelia spent enough time with
white people that she got along
with them better than Alice did.
It was always a delicate dance
between appropriation and
appreciation, but they did
the best that they could.
The airport gift shop sold
tribal-themed T-shirts and
various knickknacks, but other
than a reasonable commission,
that money went to the Abenaki.
Besides, the tribal connection helped
attract more tourists to the airport,
which boosted the local economy,
and the tribe benefited from that.
When the war started, the Air Force
didn't really want women, but Vermont
was more than happy to have women
willing to take over essential air freight
or fly planes from factories to airports,
replacing male pilots gone to war.
Alice gained a great deal of flight time
and earned a lot of money very fast.
Then word came that one of the pilots
from Rutledge had gone down over
Germany and nobody knew what
happened to him since that night.
"We have to try something,"
Alice said to her friends, and
they all nodded their agreement.
She talked with the medicine people,
who talked with the airport people, and
they all stood in the stone circle praying.
Grant Ballantrae was found four days later.
He wasn't in very good shape -- he would
never fly again -- but they brought him
home and that was enough for his family.
Even after the war ended, Alice had
so much experience that she managed
to keep working although most women
got fired once the men came home.
Those were good years, when
the country bounced back and
most people were happy with life.
Amelia fell in love with a veteran
who was a bit of a mess, and in 1959
they had a daughter named Feather.
Alice kept her mouth shut about
Amelia's choices and just doted
on her granddaughter instead.
"Somebody has to be the grown-up,"
she explained when her friends
wondered why she didn't object
to the questionable relationship.
In 1961, Amelia and her family
moved to Emerald Mountain Glen,
a new "hippie" commune starting up.
The townsfolk in Rutledge thought
that the hippies were weird and lazy
and dirty, sure to bring trouble
with them wherever they went.
Alice went out to the commune
and learned that they sure as hell
weren't lazy, because they were
digging up gardens everywhere and
building what looked like a house.
They weren't any dirtier than
anyone else doing hard work,
and at the end of the day, they
piled into the brook to wash.
Alice began to understand
what Amelia saw in them.
They weren't Abenaki, but they
were less unlike Abenaki than
most white people were -- and
they weren't all white, either.
There were multiple folks
of obviously mixed race,
at least one Negro person,
and several from-India Indians.
It wasn't a bad place, they weren't
bad people, and Alice wouldn't
mind visiting her family here.
The 1970s were interesting times.
Environmentalism was growing,
which was something to encourage.
The hippies and the Abenaki
became comfortable companions.
Connections with Rutledge were
gradually strengthening, too.
The Abenaki sometimes sent
a representative to attend
important town meetings, and
less often, invited a friend
out to a tribal meeting.
"We're making progress,"
Alice observed. "Challenges
notwithstanding, that's good."
Feather was sky-mad from
the beginning, so Alice wasn't
surprised when she moved into
Rutledge and became a pilot.
In 1977, Feather had a daughter,
Willa. The auspicious birth of
a great-granddaughter made
the elders on the reservation
start asking, then pushing, and
eventually hounding Alice
to set aside piloting and come
help them to manage the tribe.
"A grandmother is not a quarterback,"
Alice said firmly. "I have more than
enough other things to do already."
Alice held them off for nearly
a decade, but they had a point
and she knew it. A tribe needed
grandparents to guide it properly.
Besides, Feather had more kids
and it was getting harder for her
to find someone to watch all of them.
So in 1985, Alice withdrew from
regular piloting work and spent
more time on the reservation.
She still took several flights
a week, but no longer filled
the whole work week with them.
The tribe needed every hand
they could get. White people in
a lot of places were panicking
over kids with medicine powers.
"All right, it can be alarming when
young folk without much experience
come into a lot of power," Alice grumbled,
"but no problem is so bad that panic
can't make matters a lot worse!"
Banning the kids from school was
not only discriminatory and liable
to wreck their future, it wouldn't help
them learn to control their abilities either.
Alice spent a good ten years in activism
aimed at keeping kids in school, but in
the end they hammered out laws that
balanced education and safety pretty well.
The educational consultants helped keep
kids learning while they couldn't attend class,
and it turned out most could safely attend
school within a year of manifestation.
That turned out to be a good thing,
as in 1994, Willa had a daughter, Emily.
Alice's great-great granddaughter seemed
ordinary enough at first, but by the time
she was walking, relatives noticed that
when Emily tripped, she didn't always fall.
Sometimes she just wobbled a little and
then righted herself, other times she
sort of drifted toward the ground.
It wasn't until Emily became a woman
that she actually learned how to fly.
There was this boy. Of course there was.
"It's always safe to talk to a grandmother,"
Alice assured Emily. "So talk. I'll listen."
Emily talked, and Alice listened. It was
odd, even though young love was common.
It's just that, for most people, falling in love
doesn't mean literally walking on air.
When Emily finally wound down,
Alice told her the family stories
and reminded her why they were
called Walks the Sky Road.
"So much has been lost
over the years, but in you
it returns," said Alice. "Come,
let's go to the airport. You have
a right to use it, and they're used
to teaching people how to fly --
even if most need an airplane."
The years of work had paid off,
the balance between appropriation
and appreciation easier to find.
It was more of a give and take now,
less tug-of-war over what's "mine."
Most of the tribal-themed things
in the gift shop now came from
actual Abenaki tribe members.
"Is that you, Grandmother?"
Emily squeaked, pointing to
an old black-and-white photo
of a woman in an airplane.
"Yes, that's me," said Alice.
"I worked here when your mother
was a little girl, and a long time
after then too. I enjoyed that."
The airport staff were delighted
to see her. "Alice!" one exclaimed.
"What brings you back here?"
"My granddaughter Emily is
learning to fly," Alice explained.
"Emily, would you show them?"
The girl got a dreamy look and
drifted away from the floor.
And people applauded.
Startled, Emily dropped
back onto her feet.
"As you can see, she
still needs to work on
her control," said Alice.
"We have mental exercises
to teach pilots how to focus,"
said the instructor. "We
can start with those."
"She'll also need to learn
how to interface with
Air Traffic Control if she
wants to use the circle,"
Alice said. "She belongs
to the tribe so she already
knows the Tribal Liaison."
"So let's lay out a plan,"
the instructor said. "Emily,
what is your schedule like?
This has to fit around school."
Emily took out her datebook
and found times when she could
visit the airport for flying lessons.
"Have you told your ancestors yet?"
one of the secretaries wondered.
"If not, you should probably drop by
the burial ground while you're here."
"I hadn't even thought of that,"
Emily admitted. "I mean, Mom
told them I had something back
when I first started drifting, but this
is way more. Yeah, we should go."
So after finalizing the schedule,
and picking out materials that
Emily would need for studying,
they rode out in an airport truck.
As soon as they arrived, Emily
bounded out of the vehicle.
Alice followed more slowly,
her joints stiff in the cool air.
"Hello, Old Ones," said the girl.
"I am Emily Walks the Sky Road --
and look, I'm learning to fly!"
She pushed off and flew
in a low, graceful arc.
Scarlet leaves rose from
the ground in a twist of wind,
dancing around her body,
coaxing her higher into the air.
Alice let her get overhead,
then said, "All right, that's
plenty. You can show more
after you've learned more."
Emily landed in a crouch,
then straightened. "Okay,"
she said. "We'll return later."
She danced on her toes, twirling
in place. "I want to learn how
to fly. I want to learn everything!"
"You have time," Alice assured her.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character, location, and content notes appear separately.