Growing up as a child I spent many summers with my Nana at my Great Grandmother's house in Oklahoma where there was a great sense of Cherokee tradition. I remember looking at my Great Grandfather thinking that, if you were to look up "Cherokee Indian" in the encyclopedia, you were sure to find his picture there. I just knew it! He was olive skinned with high cheekbones, jet-black hair that hardly seemed to gray as he aged in years, and the traditional Cherokee nose that created a dignity on his face. As a child, you could really say that Stilwell, OK was a second home to me. I could've sat on the porch swing for hours, perched myself on the statues of deer in the front yard or snuck strawberries out of the garden every day of my life. Stilwell has the traditional Strawberry Festival every year on Mother's Day weekend in May, and my Nana still goes to this day. There was a parade and booths set up everywhere. But the highlight of the Strawberry Festival was the abundance of the tastiest, red, heart-shaped fruit that always seemed to bring anyone comfort.
Looking back on it now, I can never remember a time that I was ever at my Great Grandparent's in the summer that there wasn't an ample amount of strawberries. Fresh, jams, mashed, you name it, they were always there. My favorite way to eat them as a child was mashed with sugar. I remember my Nana always getting out the big mixing bowl, cutting off the tops of the strawberries and handing me the "masher" and I would go to town. I could eat those strawberries until my belly hurt. Even if I wasn't in Oklahoma at my Great Granny's house, my Nana always had strawberries at her house. She had one of those HUGE stainless steel bowls that we typically did green beans in before she would can them, that occassionally she'd put strawberries in and I would mash them for us to eat. Nana and Pa always had strawberries in the garden and I would get so excited when I could go out and look for the big red ones! When the gardens became too much to handle, there still wasn't a time when we had a special meal or a family get together that strawberries weren't involved.
Now that I'm married and on my own, I still find myself drawn to the most wonderful and magnificent fruit at the grocery store. And even right now, I have them in my refrigerator. In my older years I've gotten quite interested in my Cherokee heritage and would definitely like to pass on my memories to my children. I was searching the internet looking for old Cherokee stories one day and came across one that really hit me deep. It was the Legend of the Strawberry. The Cherokee people believe that God created strawberries to make peace and nullify anger. In all of my most fond memories of strawberries and my family, never once can I remember my Great Grandparents, my grandparents, my parents, or myself and Todd arguing when there are strawberries in the house. They are times full of happiness, peace, laughter and love. So here's to keeping strawberries in your house!!!
CHEROKEE LEGEND OF THE STRAWBERRY
First Man and First Woman had an argument.
First Man said to First Woman, “Why are you so lazy? I told you to have my meal ready hours ago.” First Woman said, “If you would have gathered fire wood, it would be ready.” First Man yelled, “That is women’s work!”
Then First Woman began to cry. This made First Man even more angry. “Why don’t you just leave if all you can do is cry?” he said. So she did.
She ran out the door to their lodge and through the clearing to the path at the edge of the forest. First Man paced the floor. “Good!” he exclaimed, “I am glad she is gone.” Then he looked out the door, thinking she was standing at the edge of the clearing. He stepped out of the door wagging his fist, he yelled, “And don’t come back!”
First Woman ran deep into the forest. The sun began to sink behind the mountain. First Man had calmed down by now. When she did not come back, he walked to the edge of the clearing. Again he called her name. Still she did not come. He began to call her name louder and louder. There was no response.
The sky grew dark and the forest was darker. First Man returned to the lodge, thinking maybe she had slipped in while he was away. First Woman was not to be found.
“I will go look for her at daybreak,” he thought as he lay down to sleep. But sleep did not come. All night long he tossed and turned thinking about the danger First Woman might encounter. He prayed for her safety.
Early the next morning, before the sun rose over the trees, First Man prayed as he entered the forest. “Creator, I am so sorry for the things I said to First Woman. Please cause a patch of flowers to spring up in her path. She will surely stop to smell them and I will be able to catch up to her and tell her how sorry I am.” So the Creator placed a patch of beautiful flowers in her path. But she did not stop to smell them. In her anger, she kept walking fast.
First Man was fast on her tracks. He found the place where she had rested for the night. Shortly afterwards, he found the patch of beautiful flowers Creator had placed for her. He looked all around, but she was not to be found.
Again, he prayed, “Creator, she must be hungry by now. Please cause a patch of berries to spring up in her path, so when she stops to eat, I can catch up to her.” Creator placed a patch of blackberries in First Woman’s path. The berries were tempting, but the briars tore at her soft skin. She ran on.
Soon First Man came across the blackberry patch. Seeing she was not there, he prayed once more, “Creator, I am such a fool. You know far better than I what would please First Woman. Would you choose something to put in her path to slow her down, so I can tell her how much I love her?”
Creator reached down to the beautiful flower patch and picked the most delicate white flower. He then reached over and picked some berries and pricked his finger on the thorns. Drops of blood turned the berries large, bright red and heart-shaped. He placed the white flowers and the red berries in the path of the First Woman.
When First Woman saw the bright red berries and the delicate flowers she stopped to drink in their beauty. She saw no thorns so she tasted on of their berries. It was so sweet she sat down and began to eat her fill. She saw the berry was heart-shaped, so as she ate the berries she began to think of the sweet things First Man had done for her in the past. The more she ate, the more sweet things she remembered. Looking at the pure white flowers she remembered how pure her love for him had been. She began to sob. As she cried, she asked Creator to bring her husband to her, so she could tell him how sorry she was and how much she loved him.
Just as she had finished praying, her husband appeared from behind a tree. They held each other, exchanged loving words and forgave each other.
This is why the Cherokee always have fresh whole strawberries, jam and pictures in their home. It is a reminder not to argue with one another. Their heart-shape reminds us if we do slip and say something hurtful, to pray, ask for forgiveness and say loving words, just as First Man and First Woman did.
