The End of a Great Era

The End of a Great Era…

At Tom Nelson's funeral in Pine Ridge on June 1st, I saw the end of a great era on the Reservation and throughout the country. It was the end of what Tom Brokaw termed "the Greatest Generation." In Brokaw's book by that title, he tells of the people - men mostly, but women as well - - who returned home from World War II, from battlefields the world over, and from defense factories in the cities. They returned to rebuild their communities and their families, to start life over. The veterans left home as boys, and returned as men who survived the awful experience of war. That experience gave them a new outlook on life, and they took up the challenges of rebuilding America with an almost-desperate need to catch up, perhaps keeping a promise to God that if they lived through the horror they would make the world better for their spouses and children the community.

Many from the reservation never returned home. Some were killed in action; but many who left to find work in factories found careers and stayed in their urban homes. Men like Tom Nelson, and his closest friends Vincent Brewer, Boob Janis, and others, came back to rebuild their communities. They began with the youth. Working through the American Legion they sponsored athletic activities. Baseball was the natural beginning, for all it took was borrowing a BIA road grader and clearing an infield in a local pasture, mowing the grass and weeds, and marking the base paths and foul lines with lime. They purchased the equipment as well, donating their own time and money and raising funds in the community. And they participated as umpires, coaches, and players. Tom was playing yet beyond his 50th birthday. Tribal Council leader, the late G. Wayne Tapio, at Emma Nelson's funeral, told of what Tom and others had done for him with their youth activities. Tapio gave them credit from saving him from a life of wasted opportunity and crime, and setting him on the path to do the good things he had accomplished in his life.

Their activities were more limited in basketball because most of the youth were on teams in the local boarding schools, or themselves were serving in the military. But they established their own team of old-timers, and provided entertainment and excitement for the community. Their teams were the Red Devils, and later the Chevron Oilers, and they played anybody and everybody, winning most of their games. Playing against our hot young team at Holy Rosary Mission boarding school, they showed up with six players, and beat us royally. Visiting with those old timers, I recalled an incident in one game where they led us by such a huge margin that they took turns shooting from the center of the court. And although they were just trying to give us a better chance, they were still snapping the net with most of their shots. Neither Vincent Brewer nor Boob Janis could remember that, or chose not to -- but it has stuck in my mind, because we were so frustrated that we could do nothing about it.

They sponsored boxing, although most of us who fought for the Pine Ridge Athletic Club had to train ourselves; and our training was pretty much limited to roadwork, skipping rope, punching speed bags and an old army duffel bag filled with rags, and sparring with each other. But they furnished our trunks and robes, which were made by a local seamstress. They also drove us to matches in such places as Wall, Valentine, Lead, and Martin, and to the Golden Gloves in Rapid City. They sat in our corners during the bouts and gave us instructions and encouragement - mostly encouragement.

To these people we owe so much. They put their lives on the line for us, willingly and without hesitation. They surrendered the precious years of their youth to do it; and when they came home, they were intent on making life more meaningful for the youth that followed them.

This all came back to me at Tom Nelson's funeral when Vincent Brewer and Boob Janis arrived. Both of them are very old and infirm, but they stood straight, and still had a great smile and a wicked sense of humor.

At the wake and before the funeral, all veterans were asked to sign a register, and at the funeral Mass, a ceremony was held in which a rollcall was made. As his name was called each veteran stood and gave his rank and branch of service. One of the veterans was an elderly lady - Mrs. Ida Amiotte, Tom Nelson's sister, and the last sibling of that generation. She had served as a WAVE in WWII, and a photo of her among the display by the coffinat the wake showed a beautiful girl in uniform. She stood among the veterans from the Korean conflict to Viet Nam and Desert Storm, tiny and bent, but at attention, and she saluted. What a sight to make one proud.

In the eulogy given by Father Steve Sanford, S.J. , he used an old African saying, "When an elder dies, a library burns," for what a store of knowledge they take with them - great stories of valor, and of history, which they were part of.

This was the last of a generation of true heroes. How fortunate we were to have known them.

Charles trimble, oglala lakota, was born and raised on the Pine Ridge indian Reservation in south Dakota. He was principal founder of the American indian Press Association, and served as Executive Director of the national Congress of American indians from 1972-1978. He is retired and lives in omaha, nebraska. He can be reached at cchuktrim@aol.com. His website is iktomisweb.com.