Unsung Hero: My Mother-in-Law

 Myrtle Juanita Robertson was born July 16, 1924 at the Central State Hospital in Norman, Oklahoma.  Despite its name, Central State was no ordinary hospital. It was, in fact, the State of Oklahoma’s largest hospital for the mentally ill and the criminally insane. Her mother had been institutionalized after the death of her husband, but there are no remaining stories of why she was institutionalized, nor why her 11 children were all given up for adoption. Myrtle Juanita, who always went by “Juanita” did not realize that she was adopted until much later in life, and then, when she learned about it, she looked desperately for her brothers and sisters. She found one, Charles, who had lived a very difficult life. I met Charles and immediately liked him.  He was a small man with a wry sense of humor.  He had bleeding ulcers, however, and I think that the end was already near when I met him.

But, to back up a bit. Why on earth was Mary Etta (Shields) DeWitt treated in such a harsh way? The answer has to do with a hidden history of mental institutions.  Juanita’s parents were members of the Citizens Band Potawatomi, removed from Illinois to Kansas and Oklahoma, and then given allotments.  The DeWitts had land near Little Axe, Oklahoma.  After Juanita’s father died and her mother was institutionalized, something happened and it appears that the mother lost all her rights to anything at all.  This dark, shameful history is not acknowledged.  Juanita was raised by a family in the same town as the mental hospital, and she never had any notion that her mother was in the rather terrifying mental hospital on the east side of town, nor did she have any idea that she had 10 brothers and sisters.

https://fringejournal.blogspot.com/2022/11/oklahoma-sanitarium-company-1895.html

Juanita graduated from Norman High School and then went on to attend the University of Oklahoma, where she majored in education. She continued with her education and became a social worker for the State of Oklahoma.  Years passed, and she was contacted by the Bureau of Indian Affairs to let her know that she had inherited land from her parents, and that she had at least one surviving sibling.  This was a shock to Juanita, who did not realize that she had been adopted, nor did she have any knowledge of her Potawatomi heritage.

 

Ironically, at the University of Oklahoma, at the same time that Juanita’s mother was institutionalized and her children taken from her, the University of Oklahoma, literally 2 miles from Central State Hospital, efforts were made to preserve Native American culture at the Western History Collection. There are many harsh ironies in this situation, which will be the subject of a later, more detailed meditation.

Finding out that she was adopted, and then, the tragic circumstances, put Juanita in a state of shock, and she started to piece together all the things that had never made sense from her childhood, and also the deep sense of trauma, rupture, and horror that she could never shake off.

She immediately dug into her past and also into Potawatomi heritage, customs, and language. More than anything, she felt a deep, searing pain when she thought of those who were overwhelmed and helpless, who ended up losing everything, and dying alone, destitute, and sad. She could never change the past. There was nothing she could do to rectify the wrongs done to her mother and her 10 brothers and sisters.  However, she could fight for better conditions for the Elders.

 

Juanita was able to work with the State of Oklahoma, and in doing so, she worked on programs to benefit the elderly.  At the end of her career, she could look back and see all the programs she had helped shape that had to do with providing nutrition as well as emotional support to senior citizens in the State of Oklahoma.

Juanita died at the age of 90, an unsung hero, a Potawatomi who was able to reclaim her heritage and to fight for meals, companionship, and human dignity for elders.

Her funeral took place on a rainy, cool afternoon at a funeral home in Purcell, Oklahoma, where I had attended the funeral of my dear mother, just three years before.  I signed the guestbook and fought back tears until I looked out the window and saw my ex-husband running across the parking lot in a downpour, clutching a cardboard box.  Instantly, I knew what it was.  He was carrying the urn with the ashes of little Ricky, Juanita’s beloved white cat.  I remembered Ricky well. Ricky was the meanest cat you could possibly imagine. Ricky loved to hide under a sofa and then lash out with his razor-sharp claws.  I lost many a pair of tights to that crazy cat! But, Ricky loved Juanita, and Juanita loved Ricky.  Later, I wondered if somehow Juanita’s mom, Mary Etta DeWitt, had shared her spirit with Ricky, and she was there to do everything she could to protect her little lost baby.

Little Ricky, the cat, and his adored owner, Juanita DeWitt Robertson, are unsung heroes.

 

 

Unsung Hero: Susan LaFlesche Picotte (1865 - 1915)

 In July 2024, I had the chance to participate in an event at the National Academies of Science in Washington, D. C.   The topic was how best to clean up the orphan oil and gas wells that can pollute the air and groundwater, and thus improve the living conditions for many people, especially those who suffer from socio-economic hardship.

 

The building was a majestic example of intricate Art Nouveau with stained glass, wrought iron, and lovely nooks and hidden galleries where tributes to the nation’s most visionary scientists could be found.

 

I was excited and inspired to happen upon a tribute to women scientists.  I was deeply moved.  One of the first to really catch my eye was Susan La Flesche Picotte.  La Flesche was the first Native American woman to earn a degree as a medical doctor, returned home to build a system to provide medical care for the people of the Omaha nation, and to institute practices that would dramatically reduce communicable diseases.  

 

She was born in June 1865 on the Omaha Reservation in what is now Nebraska.  Her father, Joseph La Flesche (Iron Eyes) was chief of the Omaha tribe and her mother, Mary Gale (One Woman), encouraged their daughters to get an education. So Susan studied at a missionary school on the reservation before being accepted to study at the Elizabeth Institute for Young Ladies in New Jersey.  From there, she matriculated at the Women’s Medical College of Pennsylvania, where she graduated as valedictorian in 1889.

 

After returning to the Omaha Reservation, La Flesche instituted a number of changes:  She advocated the construction of a hospital and European-style frame houses to provide more ways to keep the patients in as sterile facilities as possible. She was a huge advocate of public health and encouraged families to install screens on doors and windows to keep disease-spreading flies and mosquitoes from entering. She discouraged the use of shared drinking cups at village wells, and was a dedicated physician, traveling great distances to see patients.  She was able to achieve her great dream of having a hospital built in Walthill, Nebraska, on reservation land.

La Flesche often spoke out against the great physical and mental toll that contact with European settlers and the Office of Indian Affairs had taken on the health of indigenous peoples.

 

To me, La Flesche is an inspiring figure for many reasons. The most obvious is that of overcoming the odds to become a doctor and go back home to fight for better conditions and treatment for her people. She never gave up, even when her own poor health made it difficult.

 

While Susan La Flesche Picotte has had the great fortune to have been remembered for her efforts, it is very important to keep in mind that there are many unsung heroes, especially within communities that are under-represented, isolated, and historically under-served.  It is a good idea to take a moment to think about those who made contributions, no matter how large or small, and to thank them.

A Philosophy of Teaching using AI

 Sharing my own thoughts and philosophy on teaching

With the advent of ubiquitous AI tools, I’ve renewed my emphasis on connections to real-world experiences as a way to both learn and to communicate the attainment of knowledge, and demonstrating achievement of learning objectives.

It is interesting to see how people use Large Language Model generative AI.  They may enter a prompt from the discussion board into AI to see what it delivers. It usually delivers information in the form of short lists, which are either bulleted or are bold-face in the topic or subject. When entire papers are constructed, they are very clearly structured.  The thesis statement is often very clear, but the introduction is unengaging. The body paragraphs have good topic sentences (as though from an outline), but any reference to relevant information is not cited properly (no in-text citations, no reference section at the end). If the topic is a common one (Write a paper about Hamlet’s conflicts in Shakespeare’s Hamlet), the information is likely to be pretty reliable, given that there are so many easily accessible papers on the topic.  However, it could be unreliable if the Large Language Model is using student papers, websites, and places like Course Hero for the data used to train the model.

My philosophy of teaching has to do with making emotional and cognitive connections to the topic and igniting a fire of curiosity and personal connection so that they feel real curiosity and a need to know about the topic because it could inform them of what could be a future path to a fulfilled and meaningful life.

I think back to my own experiences in life – when I was an undergraduate, I had dreams and there were aspects of life that really fascinated me.  I kept changing majors because the world around me kept changing, and I constantly wrestled with perfectionism, which made me feel either euphoric or in a pit of despair.  It took me many years to learn how to self-regulate, and now I think I may do it too much – if something negative happens, I immediately reframe it as something else, and my mind starts churning out affirmations as I seek “win-win” situations within my sphere of influence.

 

It's a lot of work, and it requires a steely resolve to maintain a positive outlook.  When I was a graduate student and had a part-time job, I was fascinated by emotional and cognitive “limit experiences” that would push me to the edge and inform me about the nature of reality.  I guess that proclivity was what inspired me to write my dissertation on mad messiahs and the apocalyptic narrative. It was the gift that keeps on giving, and I automatically process the day’s headlines through a debunking narrative mechanism that identifies key apocalyptic words and then classifies the narratives into apocalyptic genres and sub-genres. I’ve been doing it so long it’s automatic. These are good days for apocalypse, I must say.

That said, my world view has changed over the years to help me feel a sense of self-determination and well, joy & happiness, even in the face of clear chaos and uncertainty in the world. It helps that the world is always chaotic and so the panic-dread I felt the first five or six times economic meltdown and social discord were proffered up has dissipated into a “well, fortunately, no one has to live forever” mode.  What is that about?  I think  it is, ultimately, a recognition that there are things I can do to make life better.  But, I can’t control the world. Good grief – I can’t even get the information needed to be able to control the world. If I did have that key information, would I be able to interpret it?  Who knows….

And so, the world I view is one of the joy of discovery and the deep satisfaction of new connections to people, cultures, ways of thinking and living.

We can live.  We can live together. The more we know about the past, the magical intersections of history, art, and culture, the more joyous and open our futures can be.

We train our minds to see.