Smoke signals., June 15, 2007, Page 7, Image 7

Smoke Signals 7
JUNE 15, 2007
And finally, there's the youngest
of the McKnight children, Tribal
Elder Rick McKnight, who lives in
Willamina. Rick served in Saigon,
Vietnam in 1967 for six months, then
re-upped for another six.
"He came to me with the mail con
taining his papers when he re-upped,"
said Olsen. "He said, 'I got my papers
but I'm not going to open it.'
"I said, 'Ok, I'll open it."
"Rick is another one that's quiet,
and a real devoted family man. My
sister Dorothy told him when Wayne
died, 'Now the brothers are gone, you
have to step up and take care of us
girls.' He said, 'I've been the baby all
my life and I'm not changing now.'"
Olsen's brother-in-law, Tribal El
der Orville Leno (married to Ramona)
"taught me to drive and how to do
things," said Olsen.
Her dad, she said, also "was the
strongest person in defending Mom
and us that I've ever known.
"That's what's wrong with me," she
said. "I've got his mouth."
Tribal Elder Joe Mercier, who has
passed on, once told her, "You're your
mother's daughter but you've got
your father's mouth."
No longer married, Olsen bore two
children with her husband, Larry
Olsen, a Ph.D. specialist in com
munity health. They lived together
in Illinois, Arizona and California,
where his studies and teaching as
signments took him.
For many years, Judy worked on
the private switchboard of Clark
Kerr, the first Chancellor of the Uni
versity of California at Berkeley and
the 12th President of the University.
She also opened the office mail and
routed it through the office.
She met John Glenn there, after
his moon walk. She rode the eleva
tor with Kirk Douglas. But most of
all, she supported her husband as
his career got underway. Though
the pair haven't been together since
the 1980s, it is still with pride that
she talks about him heading up
departments at the University of
New Mexico, and traveling to Saudi
Arabia and China to teach health
education and community health for
the federal government.
And it is also with pride that she
speaks of her son, Larry Martin
Olsen, 37, and her daughter, Laura
Hoeper, 34, both living in Arizona.
"Larry was always inquisitive. He
has to know how everything works,"
she said. "He owns his own painting
company and works for a remodeler.
His wife, JynChelle, works at a mall
in Scottsdale, and also does faux
painting and murals. She did a wall
in Arizona. "She made it look like
bricks with a fireplace," said Olsen.
Larry's always been very active.
He was a good soccer player, the
kind of student that got bored but he
passed all the tests. He'd skip school
and I'd catch him."
"My son said once, 'Before I tell you
I've done something wrong, you already
know it. How do you do it?' I said, 'It's
a mother's prerogative.' He didn't stop
to think he just looked guilty."
"I remember that Orville (Leno)
stopped in at my brother's, and Larry
immediately stood up when Orville
walked in the room. He's polite and
considerate. And he plays guitar and
piano by ear."
Larry has a daughter, Nadia, who
lives with her mother in Pennsylvania.
Judy's mom's family, the
Langleys... Included in this picture
are Judy's mom, Elvira, at right in
her 1 st Communion dress. From
left is Uncle Clint, Uncle Ivan,
Grandma Mary Quinelle Langley,
Grandpa Bill, Aunt Mamie standing,
Uncle Roscoe on Grandpa's knee,
and Uncle Joe standing next to and
behind Elvira.
"She is going on 12," said Olsen.
"Laura was always put in the ad
vanced class. Her first grade teacher
was from Europe, and she taught the
first graders to speak French, and
since, Laura's always been involved
with her French. When she was 13,
she went back to Pennsylvania with
her dad, who took a group to France
and Switzerland. She also plays the
piano and she also plays the flute.
She's very artistic. She paints In
dian figurines and rocks. She used
to work at Honeywell, but now she
stays home with Brody."
Olsen has always tried to bring
out the artistic side of her children.
"I try to get kids involved in creative
things. And now I'm doing that
with Brody."
"I got down on the floor with my
kids and played with them," she said,
"and now I'm doing it with Brody.
He wanted me to race with him on
tricycles. I told him that that might
not be possible, but he kept at it and
in the end, we raced."
A A '
!..r-r.. v, - y ' J
It ' ' 5
day to meet Larry and other family
members.
A few years ago, Olsen's longtime
friend, Pat Royal, had to apply for
Social Security and it got her think
ing: "When are we going to make you
go to Catholic Charities to find your
daughter? So, I did the paperwork."
It turned out that Lisa also had
been looking for Olsen. And Catholic
Charities went out of their way to
give Olsen hints to help her make
the connection.
It was only three days later that
she got a call from Robison.
"You're looking for your daughter?"
asked Robison.
"I go, 'Yeah.'
"She asked when was I born and so
I 1 r a s in m M :
o
Here are Judy Olsen's children, from left, son-in-law Clay Hoeper with son,
Brody, and wife, Tribal member Laura, daughter-in-law JynChelle Olsen and
Judy's son, Larry Olsen.
Though family life is a beautiful
remembrance for Olsen, there is one
child who was always missing.
"In the 1960s, she said, when she
was 18, "you didn't keep a child born
out of wedlock." The daughter who
became Lisa Robison of Vancouver,
Washington, was born in 1963. Of
Lisa's father, Olsen said, "You love
this person and they just walk away
from it."
But her family, as always, stood
with her. "I had choices," said Olsen.
"They said to 'make up my mind and
they would stand by me whatever I
decided.' I felt, being single, I'd have
help but back in the 60s, there was a
stigma on the child and I wanted her
to have both parents, not just one.
I went through Catholic Charities,
and I'm pleased with what happened.
She went to good parents and lived
in Portland."
Today, Lisa and her husband,
Shawn, work at St. Vincent's Hospi
tal and Medical Center in Portland.
She came down to the casino with
their son, Kyle, 10, just the other
on. She said, 'Do you have a maiden
name?'
"I said, 'McKnight.'
"She dropped the phone."
They met again for the first time
in almost 40 years on July 4th, two
summers ago.
"Was I a secret?" Robison asked
her mom.
But she never was. "When the
children were about 12, I told them
about her. I said, 'I made a mistake.
I'm not perfect.'
She taught by example, but she
also told them directly: '"If you are
truthful with me, even though you
did something wrong, I'll support
you and we'll work it out, but if you
lie to me, that's it.' That's always
been my rule."
"God gave me something. I never
thought I'd ever find her. My kids knew
about it. My husband knew about it,
but I never thought I'd find her. In
many ways, I'm very fortunate that my
kids love me and I don't have conflict in
my life. My parents loved me. I have
received so much in my life that other
people have given me. I hope there's
some way I can give back."
WITH THE ELDERS'
COMMITTEE
To this day, she still fights at the
Elders Committee meetings, and has
earned the nickname: The mouth.
(She said, "When you become an El
der, you have the right and privilege
to bitch.")
One of her pet peeves is when the
Tribe makes rules for Elders. "Don't
make us feel like children," she told
them. "We're Elders but I'm not dead
yet, and I'll live the way I want to
live," she said.
And she is well-known for bending
the ear of Tribal Council members,
particularly her nephew Reyn Leno. "I
found a picture of him sitting on my lap
the last time he ran for Tribal Council,
and I ran it in the SmoJie Signals just
to remind him. I told him, 'Reyn, you're
getting too big-headed, and it's time to
run that picture again."'
Olsen also makes pies for Elders
all year. "I bake for all of them," she
said. Her specialty is lasagna, the
old fashioned way. "It takes all week
to make."
"At Christmas, I bake for everyone
out there."
She counts the Elders among the
best friends she's ever had.
And, it was with a lot of sadness that
the Elders recently held a farewell
party for Olsen. "I told them, 1 can't
bake for you from Arizona.' But Kath
ryn Harrison and Mary Johnson said,
'Well, you can send us cookies."'
"I told them a bad penny always
comes back."
INDIAN LIFE
The family "didn't have much in
the way of Indian traditions like
the Warm Springs or the Siletz. We
had to become white people out here.
Mom never spoke jargon, mainly out
of respect to my dad."
"I've always been on the original
(Tribal) roll. A lot of people complain
and gripe about the Tribe, but I am
very proud of them, of what they've
accomplished. I give thanks for what
they've accomplished. I think the
Tribe is making wonderful strides in
the right direction.
"I would be in a real rough place
if not for the Tribe. I think it's a
privilege. I'm proud of what I have
(in the Tribe)."
"I wish you could write something I
did that was rop.Hy spectacular," she
said, "but I don't have anything."