The drum

To get to Twin Rivers Campground from our house, one has to drive north of Bonners Ferry, Idaho, turn east on HWY 2and cross the Moyie River Bridge. Shortly thereafter, a windy road down the mountainside offers some interesting perspectives. About halfway down, there's a clear view of the Moyie Springs Mill sitting up on a ridge, seemingly ready to fall over the edge.

At the campground, facilities abound in the midst of songbirds, beautiful waters of the Kootenai and Moyie River confluence, and big fish jumping from the rivers invite the fly rods. I had driven by Twin Rivers Campground and had seen the sign for years before finally making my first visit a year or so ago. It's a hidden pristine sanctuary down there, and the place gives off an instant feeling of being removed from the busyness of the outside world.

My sisters invited me to join them last night for a drumming session at the Twin Rivers picnic shelter. They had spent the previous two days taking a class in conjunction with the Kootenai Tribe encampment, which was in conjunction with the David Thompson bicentennial activities.

David Thompson was an English mapmaker who came from Canada down into Idaho in 1809 and established the Kullyspell House as well as other fur trading facilities. The Kullyspell House, which was constructed on the Hope Peninsula, is considered the first trading post in Idaho.

My sisters listened to talks about David Thompson and learned some of the ways of fur traders and of the Kootenai Tribe, some of which have resided in the Bonners Ferry area. They really enjoyed learning sign language, basket-making, jerky preparation and how to sew moccasins.

Besides earning some postgraduate credits, this experience had special meaning to Barbara and Laurie who listened for years to our dad tell stories of his younger years spent riding horses for Simon Francis, interpreter for the Kootenai Tribe north of Bonners Ferry.

Those experiences turned our dad into a true horseman who went on to distinguish himself in 1948 by winning the performance championship with his stallion Toby I at the first-ever National Appaloosa Show in Lewiston, Idaho.

Harold also had a collection of moccasins and gloves made by the Indians. He constructed display cases for them, and my sister Laurie takes them to school to show her students during Native American educational activities.

So, this past few days has been special, as my sisters have connected some more dots in our family's great respect and love for Native American culture. Last night's experience topped it off even more.

I've attended several powwows over the years, but never have I had the opportunity to sit in such an intimate, historical setting to enjoy the mesmerizing songs of the drummers as they pound the animal hide and sing out hauntingly pure vocals, some traditional, some contemporary. We felt fortunate to have the additional treat of asking questions between each piece.

The drummers were happy to answer our questions. The lead drummer Mike, who serves on his tribal council in Montana, told us that lead drummers are identified in early childhood. Certain qualities, even as youngsters, tell the elders that these individuals will one day take the lead in the drumming circle.

Mike's drum belonged to his grandfather. The time came, and his grandfather gave him the instructions for leading and caring for the drum. Mike is now preparing his son and his nephews to step up should the time come that the Creator takes his voice in preparation for another younger drummer.

No question was too dumb, Mike assured us, so we all asked. Generally women don't drum, but they do stand in the circle around the drum, and "it is a beautiful sight." Occasionally the skin must be removed from the top of the drum to be tightened or replaced. The voice is a gift to be developed. No, they don't get tennis elbow from beating that drum so hard. Lots of practice makes for strong vocal cords and arms, we were told.

It was an inspirational hour. We were glad we went, and I'm sure the lessons learned from this encampment will go on like the Indian culture, to be told and retold, just like our dad did for us and just as my sisters will do with their students.