There are no rules in the tree of life

For the past month or so I've been rambling up and down Highway 281 leaving a trail of cut paper. I've been driving south to Ellendale once a week for four weeks and have zipped North to New Rockford for two of those weeks as well, working with two elder care facilities and regional arts councils on a collaborative folk art project called "The Tree of Life" as part of the North Dakota Council on the Arts (NDCA) "Art for Life Program." More specifically it was a large scale piece of wycinanki which is the colorful often collage oriented Polish folk art practice.

My paper cutting Yoda Meridee Erickson Stowman and I worked closely with Troyd Geist North Dakota's folklorist and Sally Jeppson from the Jamestown Arts Center to develop this project. Meridee and I were commissioned to create the patterns while Troyd and Sally came up with the concept.

Now there's a tree in Jamestown at Ave Maria, in Ellendale at Prince of Peace, and one soon to be at Good Shepard in New Rockford.

The paper tree measures 5x7' and each session explores a different topic.

Some of the elders expressed frustration with not being able to cut or follow some of the patterns but I like to tell them that they were the brains and I'd be the braun as I carefully helped them cut the patterns and had them choose the colors.

The tree is adhered to a queen size sheet with modpodge and I'm pretty sure it could (and should) be referred to as artist flypaper.

The first session we spoke about where we came from and we created acorns and flowers. We shared immigration stories that were passed down generations. We spoke of weddings and cut doves and more flowers. We talked about birthdays and cut out golden pears and apples as well as leaves to adorn our tree.

We even had a session on death and the afterlife creating paper roosters and butterflies and telling stories of funeral traditions, ghost stories and even the great beyond.

I met a lot of wonderful people who lived at these facilities and met a lot of wonderful community members and staff who assisted with the project. I'm so thankful for their participation.

I've learned a lot from my new old friends in the process. I editorialized on this with my latest editorial for High Plains Reader called, "From the mouths of Octogenarians."

http://hpr1.com/index.php/opinion/editorial/from-the-mouths-of-octogenarians/

Here is an excerpt with embellishments:

I’ve learned that we need to be thankful and mindful of our mobility. I visited my grandfather on his 86th birthday. He was in his workshop fixing up one of his scooters and mentioned how tough it is to rely on wheels to get around. This coming from a once active outdoorsman, who’s ears still perk up around deer season. Another gentleman who participated in our project was nursing a broken hip and was going through his daily therapy routine. He said part of his therapy was “relearning how to sit in a chair without missing it.” He said he never thought he’d have to relearn something he never really had to think about.

Prior to that I never thought twice about my own mobility. Maybe I should start to be more active.

I’ve learned that we need to learn that it’s ok to lean on each other and to ask for help and we need to be good neighbors, just in case either of us find ourselves in a pinch. It’s good to be self reliant but no one can be an island. You’ll just end up stranded.

A few women agreed that the secret to a successful marriage was to not go to bed mad. Anger only festers and poisons your thoughts and perceptions.

When they spoke of marriage it was a partnership. They relied on each other. It wasn't the dog and pony show they spent their whole life dreaming about. They got it done and went back to work rather than the bill outlasting their marriage.

Sometimes small gestures mean the world to someone, whether it’s a short conversation and a warm smile or going out of your way to pick up a pack of gum for someone. Weekly outings, short drives and fresh air are good for everyone.

Men and women alike fondly remembered their school days and had warm memories of their small country schools. Children in grades 1-8 learned side by side, here they learned to be mindful of one another and learned to relate with varied age groups. One woman told me that she went door to door in her hometown to find a sponsor so she could go to high school. She eventually worked as a maid for a well-to-do family and was still thankful for the opportunity more than 50 years later.

One gentleman told me about the tricks he ad his pals would play on his teacher--who also happened to be his cousin. Each day she would sneak into the outhouse behind the country school and would have a cigarette break. One fateful day he and his pal Wesley locked her in that outhouse and they had an extended recess. She eventually had to break a window to get out. She didn't know who did it until well after she got married and he finally fessed up.

He still had a mischievous glint in his eye when he would tell the story.

When I was a kid I always thought that the elders surrounding me had always been old, as I age I finally came to realize that this is my first time as a young (now almost middle aged) adult and this is the elders first time as elders. We’re all learning as we go and we need to help each other out on the way and share our experiences. As we worked on our “Tree of life” project in these elder care facilities we came up with the phrase, “There’s no rules in the tree of life” because there's no rules in life.

Overall the general consensus was, “It’s hell to get old.” So maybe we’ll have to raise a little hell before we can’t anymore.