6 MARCH 15, 2004
Smoke Signals
Grand Ronde Hosts Traditional Name-Giving Ceremony
NAME-GIVING continued from page 1
attendance, led some of the songs.
The ceremony could have taken place at the
Warm Springs Reservation, where traditions
such as the name-giving ceremony have been
honored unbroken for centuries, but We-la-lik
said that his father, Tribal Elder Merle Holmes,
had insisted that the ceremony take place here
in Grand Ronde.
When he was deciding whether to have the
naming ceremony, Taaw-lee-winch told him,
"Make his name official." When he was decid
ing whether to hold the ceremony in Grand
Ronde, delegations from other Tribes told
Holmes, "Let us know and we'll come."
Merle Holmes has for 12 years been part of
the Medicine Society, a group that continues to
honor these traditions. The group also leads and
participates in funerals, first fishing and hunt
ing successes and other traditional milestones.
"I know it was very important for him to bring
it here," said We-la-lik.
"I attend so much stuff at Warm Springs and
at Yakama," said the Elder Holmes. "At Warm
Springs, if they have a young man or woman
going away to war, they have a ceremony. When
they come back, they have a ceremony. We don't
have them here ... but I wanted to see if the
people here were interested enough. I thought
I'd bring an aspect here to see if people were
interested."
By one count, 160-180 people were interested.
They filled the Community Center cafeteria to
overflowing for this event. It started before noon
on the last Saturday in February, and contin
ued until nearly midnight.
As the ceremony got underway, community
member Laverne Hosford congratulated Holmes
and said, "I hope you've
started something."
"I like to see this sort of
stuff because it's tradi
tional and there isn't
much of it going on any
more," said Mel Holmes,
nephew to Elder Merle
Holmes and cousin to We-La-Lik.
"It's a good learn
ing experience for me like
for a lot of Grand Ronde
members. When you have
a community involved," he
added, "there's a higher
probability that others will
learn."
Elders from the Warm
Springs, Umatilla and
Yakama Tribes performed
songs and told stories in
the beginning. A cafete
ria-style meal followed
with traditional meats and fishes, berries, roots,
salads and fruits. Adults stood in long lines that
snaked around the tables and chairs while young
children ran around with their own traditions
of celebration.
; U WW is Si !,
y
V Vw Wi W
r
n
V,
Shared Laughter Tribal member James Holmes received his traditional name, We-la-lik, during the
first naming ceremony in countless years in Grand Ronde. Behind him is Warm Springs Medicine Man, Taaw-lee-winch,
formerly known as Larry Dick, who performed the ceremony.
kr
f 'km!
4 ;c)f'7 V'.
y . -.. -:' lit'
1 Y - - LiL-
Wasco Chief Nelson Wallulatum
Tribal Elder Merle Holmes
Following the meal, the tables were put away
and chairs consigned to an outside circle while
many set up for the presentation of gifts.
"Watch how things are laid out on a trail," said
Taaw-lee-winch.
Blankets and quilts were laid out on the floor
first. They covered the entire area where all the
gifts eventually were placed. Many place set
tings went down next,
followed by large salad
style bowls that eventu
ally were filled with
home-canned salmon,
berries, and cereals.
Cans of coffee accompa
nied each place setting,
then salmon jerky, fol
lowed by towels and
wash cloths, socks, straw
mats, skins, shawls,
bottled water, then fruit.
"My dear relatives,"
said Taaw-lee-winch.
"Witness the beginning
of a name-giving."
The process continued
with many speaking
about the family, the
ceremony and the fu
ture. It involved loading
We-la-lik with blankets
they were spread out over his outstretched
arms so that others of the family's choosing
would come up to him, honor his newly given
name, and receive a gift from the family.
Taaw-lee-winch gave the instructions: first to
say the new name: We-la-lik,
and then say
your own name; take a
gift from We-la-lik (a
blanket, for example),
and then give a gift.
The traditional met
the modern in other
ways.
Yakama Elder Julian
Pinkham whose grand
children are Grand
Ronde Tribal members,
told a touching Indian
family story. The home
smoked jerky and
canned salmon sat
alongside of cans of
Folgers coffee.
But for Elder Merle
Holmes, the name-giv
ing was an addition to modern life, not a contest
between the two. "Most of us today have nick
names and this has no effect on our payroll sig
nature or anything else. It's something above
and beyond."
We-la-lik, 36, who works in Bellevue, Wash
ington as a Provider Relations Representative
for PacifiCare, the insurance company, called the
community support, "Overwhelming. It's a great
day, today."
We-la-lik has taken part in Medicine Society
events at the Warm Springs Reservation, so this
was the third or fourth time he had seen such
an event.
"I think I'll still walk the same after it's over,
but there is some spiritual fulfillment in doing
this," he said. "I feel like I've taken part in some
thing meaningful."
His brother, David, an actor and set builder in
Los Angeles, was unable to attend because he
was involved in a play set to open the day after
the naming, but if he wanted a naming cer
emony, too, said his father, "We'd put together a
giveaway for him."
The giveaway is the key to all this, according
to Merle. "In the old times when things were
really hard, when they had those giveaways,
they gave away everything they had. That was
how important this was."
Among the giveaways, the Holmeses saved the
best for the Tribe's oldest, Elder Nora Kimsey,
95. The Circle of Life Pendleton blanket had a
message on a sewed in piece that read: "In honor
of all Tribal Elders, the wisdomkeepers who are
charged with handing down teachings and spiri
tual direction so the children better understand
their responsibility to the universe and the cre
ator." Another "highest honor" blanket, this one pro
duced in a limited edition, went to Wasco Band
Chief Nelson Wallulatum.
For memories, none topped the moment when
We-la-lik his arms outstretched like a scare
crow, the blankets being piled on sank under
the weight.
"It got pretty warm in there," he said later.
And for tenderness, there was a beautiful mo
ment when the naming was over. Merle Holmes'
good heart is none too healthy, and he had been
working tirelessly on this project for three
months.
"I think he can finally relax," said We-la-lik.
After a whole afternoon spent on the naming
part of the ceremony, as much time and effort
went into a night of Medicine dances. Without
cameras or reporters, the evening was left to the
sacred. B