As Lamar reloaded the stove with wood, the patio warmed and reilluminated with spears of orange and yellow light. Children came dashing out, with Eugene among them saying, "OK, OK. I'll tell you a story."
"Mooniemoomoos! Mooniemoomoos!" Elizabeth and Emma yelled, sitting on the patio with the rest of the children.
"You've got better kinfolk to tell the tale than I can. Let Uncle Lamar tell it. You kids are running me rapid," George said.
"Mooniemoomoos! Mooniemoomoos! Dad!"
Uncle Lamar said, "OK, OK, just calm down."
He sat on the edge of the chair and told the story:
"A very long time ago, long before we were born, long before our white grandparents and their grandparents came to Missouri, long before the Confederates or the Bluecoats, long before the Creek and Chickasaw Indians were here. Long before there were flowers in the forest, long before there were sunfish in the swamps, long before there were colors in the rainbows, long before there were any colors in the plants or animals, there was a nation of tiny, tiny people called the Mooniemoomoos. They were no taller than the ears on a bobcat, lighter than a trimmed turkey. They lived in shallow limestone caves, or dug large downs underground, like the rabbits. In the season, they collected nuts and berries and stored them for the winter to eat. They protected the tiny critters of the woods, the chipmunks, the ferrets, the mice, the baby birds. Because they cared for each other and even for those who weren't like them, God looked with favor upon the Mooniemoomoos. God smiled upon their hard work,
their ingenuity and kindness, kindness that sought no return.
"Because they pleased God, God painted them many colors, like the spawning sunfish and darters of the stream and the cardinals and bluebirds of the sky are today. Some were blue. Some were green. Some were purple. Some were red. Some were ebony. Some had more than one color, and no two Mooniemoomoos had the exact same colors. Their bright colors told the other animals that the Mooniemoomoos were God's beloved creatures, that he gave them special talents, to sing, to paint, to think, to create. Unlike the red maples and golden prairie grass, whose colors are fleeting and come only with age, the Mooniemoomoos were colorful from the moment they were born.
"Because God gave them the gift of thinking, he expected them to take care of themselves, to live without his constant intercession. While God from time to time would bless the birds with an abundance of cicadas or worms to eat, or an abundance of mice for the owls, he never directly or purposely gave extra graces to the Mooniemoomoos. This was because God already had bestowed on him the two greatest, and everlasting gifts: the power to have emotions and the power to have thoughts. In time, God hoped the Mooniemoomoos would learn the perfect balance between the two.
"Not all the creatures of the wilderness liked that God had given these gifts to the Mooniemoomoos. The wicked and jealous BooBams especially hated the Mooniemoomoos. They fed at night, usually eating mice, grubs and worms. But from time to time, they dug their way into the community of the Mooniemoomoos and eat the children before the parents could fight the animals off with fire. So the Mooniemoomoos lived in peace with every beast of the wilderness except the BooBams.
"As the BooBams' hatred of the Mooniemoomoos grew—and their delight in killing their children grew—so did the Mooniemoomoos' fear of the BooBams grow. On a cold, winter night, when the hungry BooBams had gone without food for days, they dug deep into the earth and found the largest Mooniemoomoo community, sleeping in the warm underground nest. As they began to eat the children, the Mooniemoomoos, enraged beyond rational thinking, went crazy and attacked the BooBams—not with fire, but with their teeth and hands. The BooBams were shocked and terrified, and in their panic, tunneled as quickly as they could, without considering which way they were heading. The Mooniemoomoo parents chased them into the tunnels, too enraged to remember their children, which they left behind. They chased the BooBams and beat their backs of the BooBams with all of their might.
"Although they saved their children from BooBams, the children could not survive without their parents, and they died that winter from cold, hunger and loneliness.
"Since that time, no one has seen a Mooniemoomoo, but God has left us signs for us to remember them, and to remember how rage and hatred can harm us all, especially our children. As the BooBams tunneled in flight from the Mooniemoomoos that night, they unsettled enough earth to make it sink and shift, and that is why we sometimes have earthquakes--because the earth is still moving, even if we can't see it directly. The cold tears of the Mooniemoomoo children flood the underground tunnels, sometimes filling the tunnels completely so that their tears burst above ground as springs. As their young and dead, colorful bodies mixed into the earth, they brought color to the flowers, to the coneflower, the iris, the sunflower, the leaves of the trees and all the animals that ate those plants, and to the animals that ate those animals, passing color from one to the other. The springs and the flowers are reminders to adults that should we forget our own children to pursue our own temporal emotions, we will have lost our own lives, have lost our point of living, have lost the colors of our world, the colors that separate us from the beasts, the creative force of humans, the God that is in all of us."
As Lamar reloaded the stove with wood, the patio warmed and reilluminated with spears of orange and yellow light. Children came dashing out, with Eugene among them saying, "OK, OK. I'll tell you a story.""Mooniemoomoos! Mooniemoomoos!" Elizabeth and Emma yelled, sitting on the patio with the rest of the children."You've got better kinfolk to tell the tale than I can. Let Uncle Lamar tell it. You kids are running me rapid," George said."Mooniemoomoos! Mooniemoomoos! Dad!"Uncle Lamar said, "OK, OK, just calm down."He sat on the edge of the chair and told the story:"A very long time ago, long before we were born, long before our white grandparents and their grandparents came to Missouri, long before the Confederates or the Bluecoats, long before the Creek and Chickasaw Indians were here. Long before there were flowers in the forest, long before there were sunfish in the swamps, long before there were colors in the rainbows, long before there were any colors in the plants or animals, there was a nation of tiny, tiny people called the Mooniemoomoos. They were no taller than the ears on a bobcat, lighter than a trimmed turkey. They lived in shallow limestone caves, or dug large downs underground, like the rabbits. In the season, they collected nuts and berries and stored them for the winter to eat. They protected the tiny critters of the woods, the chipmunks, the ferrets, the mice, the baby birds. Because they cared for each other and even for those who weren't like them, God looked with favor upon the Mooniemoomoos. God smiled upon their hard work,
their ingenuity and kindness, kindness that sought no return."Because they pleased God, God painted them many colors, like the spawning sunfish and darters of the stream and the cardinals and bluebirds of the sky are today. Some were blue. Some were green. Some were purple. Some were red. Some were ebony. Some had more than one color, and no two Mooniemoomoos had the exact same colors. Their bright colors told the other animals that the Mooniemoomoos were God's beloved creatures, that he gave them special talents, to sing, to paint, to think, to create. Unlike the red maples and golden prairie grass, whose colors are fleeting and come only with age, the Mooniemoomoos were colorful from the moment they were born."Because God gave them the gift of thinking, he expected them to take care of themselves, to live without his constant intercession. While God from time to time would bless the birds with an abundance of cicadas or worms to eat, or an abundance of mice for the owls, he never directly or purposely gave extra graces to the Mooniemoomoos. This was because God already had bestowed on him the two greatest, and everlasting gifts: the power to have emotions and the power to have thoughts. In time, God hoped the Mooniemoomoos would learn the perfect balance between the two."Not all the creatures of the wilderness liked that God had given these gifts to the Mooniemoomoos. The wicked and jealous BooBams especially hated the Mooniemoomoos. They fed at night, usually eating mice, grubs and worms. But from time to time, they dug their way into the community of the Mooniemoomoos and eat the children before the parents could fight the animals off with fire. So the Mooniemoomoos lived in peace with every beast of the wilderness except the BooBams."As the BooBams' hatred of the Mooniemoomoos grew—and their delight in killing their children grew—so did the Mooniemoomoos' fear of the BooBams grow. On a cold, winter night, when the hungry BooBams had gone without food for days, they dug deep into the earth and found the largest Mooniemoomoo community, sleeping in the warm underground nest. As they began to eat the children, the Mooniemoomoos, enraged beyond rational thinking, went crazy and attacked the BooBams—not with fire, but with their teeth and hands. The BooBams were shocked and terrified, and in their panic, tunneled as quickly as they could, without considering which way they were heading. The Mooniemoomoo parents chased them into the tunnels, too enraged to remember their children, which they left behind. They chased the BooBams and beat their backs of the BooBams with all of their might."Although they saved their children from BooBams, the children could not survive without their parents, and they died that winter from cold, hunger and loneliness."Since that time, no one has seen a Mooniemoomoo, but God has left us signs for us to remember them, and to remember how rage and hatred can harm us all, especially our children. As the BooBams tunneled in flight from the Mooniemoomoos that night, they unsettled enough earth to make it sink and shift, and that is why we sometimes have earthquakes--because the earth is still moving, even if we can't see it directly. The cold tears of the Mooniemoomoo children flood the underground tunnels, sometimes filling the tunnels completely so that their tears burst above ground as springs. As their young and dead, colorful bodies mixed into the earth, they brought color to the flowers, to the coneflower, the iris, the sunflower, the leaves of the trees and all the animals that ate those plants, and to the animals that ate those animals, passing color from one to the other. The springs and the flowers are reminders to adults that should we forget our own children to pursue our own temporal emotions, we will have lost our own lives, have lost our point of living, have lost the colors of our world, the colors that separate us from the beasts, the creative force of humans, the God that is in all of us."Copyright © 2006. Do not reproduce without permission.
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