BEAR

I was born and raised in New York City, so I am accustomed to the strange, stranger, and strangest. When he walked into my store for the first time, the term 'desert rat' described my first impression. He was looking for Native American music, but what he wanted would have to be special ordered. I took the order, and when I asked his name, he answered 'Bear'. That was it. No first name, no last name. Just 'Bear'. That's when I decided he belonged in my 'strangest' category.

I met him again a few years later. This time at Terry's home. Terry had invited me to come up 'any Sunday' for lunch, and since my life was in major upheaval at the time (mid-April, 2004), I thought that this would be a good idea. Lunch was great, but the conversation was even greater. We spoke for hours. He told me about his life, how he received his name (which was actually Little Bear -- just like one of mine!). We spoke about my recent epiphany, about life in general, about our fears. You name it, we touched on the subject. When I finally left, we hugged and he whispered 'welcome to a beautiful new world' in my ear. The following weekend, Terry invited me to Yesterdays in Chloride. They would be celebrating Bear's birthday. His 60th, or at least that was the one he was owning up to. I decided to go, and I am forever grateful that I did. We sat at a table with a dozen or so other gunfighters, he at the head and me to his immediate right. Good food, good music, good people. And I was laughing! I hadn't done that in a long, long time and it felt good -- really good. We danced a few times -- again something I hadn't done in quite a while, I taught him how to do the 'hand jive'. The evening was over way too soon, and I still had the drive home. Did it bother me that I had finally had an enjoyable evening. Not a chance!

I soon became a regular at Yesterdays, closing my shop at 4:00pm on Saturday afternoon, and heading north. And he was always there. And we always danced. And we always laughed. Memorial Day weekend was fast approaching, and we (Terry, Betty, Bear and me) made plans for a road trip to Flagstaff, to see the White Buffalo that were now living there. Since my son had the only vehicle that would endure the trip, I commandeered it and we left on a bright, clear Sunday morning. I must admit that I am always in a hurry to get to Flagstaff, but that is another blog. We made it in an hour and a half, even with a pit stop in Williams. Leaving Williams, I started hearing their young voices, "she's coming! and she is bringing the blue-eyed man who shares her name"! There was a lot of chatter going on in the car, all of it enjoyable. When we finally arrived at the ranch, we walked to the corral area and Bear stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at me with his sky blue eyes wide open, and told me that we were on sacred ground. I just smiled, and we continued walking towards the whites. Stopped now in front of Miracle Moon, I introduced them. That is when I first heard the crying. Small voices, sobbing. I had no idea what was happening, but I started crying too. Bear came over to me, put his arms around my shoulder, and just stood there as I sobbed. There was great comfort in his touch and, at this point, I decided to give him the gift I had created for him. I took off the choker I had been wearing, and presented it to him. And he cried. He knew that it had been made just for him, and that it contained something from each of the animals that protect me. Eagle, wolf, bear, and white buffalo were all represented in that choker.

We finally left the ranch, and headed back to Williams, where we briefly attended a rendezvous. From there, we decided to have dinner in Seligman. There is a small restaurant/gift shop in town, and we settled in for a delightful dinner of buffalo burgers and fries. We spent two hours there discussing plans for Halloween, and the annihilation of Chloride that night. It would be called 'the night of the living bread', and all sorts of pranks involving bread would be levied on the inhabitants of town. We planned our costumes, and the preparation of same. And all too soon we were driving back to Kingman, chatting, laughing, and me singing 'how do you like me now?' along with Toby, at the top of my lungs. Little did I know that our time together would soon come to an end.

The following week I ordered denim shirts for Terry, Betty and Bear, to be embroided with the group name, and their individual stage name. When I called Terry to let him know that the shirts were in, he gently told me that Bear had suffered a major heart attack the night before. When I asked what hospital he was in, Terry had to tell me that Bear hadn't made it. I remember the scream, and falling from my stool. The next thing I remember was Terry being there, and my crying and falling into his arms. And that's when it hit me -- Bear was gone. And I was in love with him, down to the very soul of my being. It was a love so pure and full of spirit. And I didn't know it!

A memorial service was held for Bear the following Saturday at Cyanide Springs. There was a large gathering of people. Many other gunfighting groups were there to pay their respects. Many people were there for me. They had seen the wonderful change in me, and were there of offer me their support in my darkest hour. I remember sitting on a hay bale, when Betty and Burnbottom brought the burro, Jenny Pearl, down the street. I was surrounded by people and Jenny broke away from the handlers. She walked right over to me and gently placed her head over my shoulder. To this day, I am convinced that it was Bear coming over to say 'see ya'. Another memorial of sorts took place at Yesterdays that night. People offering me their condolences. People who had seen what was happening in the time Bear and I were together. People who told me what it was like to watch us. They told me of how, when we entered the restaurant, each of us would be enveloped in a cloud of gold light, and how when we danced, we would be in a cloud of diamonds. I carry that wonderful picture with me always.

54 days. That is all the time we had together. Yet, it was an eternity. Bear is still with me. He protects me from the evil that is in my life; he comforts me when I feel that life is not worth living; he laughs with me when I remember something that we did together; and he is here with me now, while I write about him. My wonderful cowboy, singer, and jokester may not be with me physically, but I know that he is always there when I need him. And I know that he is waiting patiently for me to meet him again -- on the other side.

Terry and Betty wear their shirts, and I wear Bear's. There is a small white buffalo embroidered above his name.