Originally published in the Dubuque Telegraph Herald on November 20, 2022.
At a very critical point in my life, late in my teenage years, I was fortunate to have moved in with a couple that I eventually came to know as my adoptive parents. My adoptive dad was a Presbyterian minister from the Tsimshian tribe of Metlakatla, Alaska.
Metlakatla is a tiny native village on Annette Island in southeast Alaska. Residents sustain themselves through fishing, logging, fellowship, native culture, and art. It is a beautiful setting in an even more beautiful state.
During those years, I was introduced to a variety of customs and celebrations ranging from native dance, fine art, sacred ceremonies, and, of course, the Potlatch celebration. In contrast to many western cultures, where status within the community is often equated to the accumulation of things, status within the Tsimshian culture is premised on how much a family can give away.
For example, when an especially important elder dies, as a way of honoring that elder, the entire family will spend years saving and gathering art, artifacts, and other objects of significance and meaning. Sometimes a totem pole will be commissioned to honor and tell the story of that family clan and the journey of their elder.
And, on an appointed date, a Potlatch celebration will be held where the totem is raised, massive amounts of food is served, and all the items accumulated over the previous years are given away as gifts of thanksgiving to honor a well-lived life. Consequently, the status of the sponsoring family is increased within the community in which they reside.
It has been many years since I attended my last Potlatch celebration. The most recent was the dedication of the totem “Eagle’s Journey” by our native students.
(If you want to see it, the totem rests next to Judge James L. Martin (C’67) Multicultural Student Center in the Peter and Susan Smith Welcome Center.)
Prior to that celebration, I attended a Potlatch in Metlakatla, which made a huge impression on me. Although, according to custom, I can never officially be adopted into the Tsimshian tribe, our children can be, and, at some level, that possibility has lingered as a part of their formation over the years.
In addition to their grandpa, I suspect that some of the attraction has to do with many of the counter-cultural customs that are often associated with that tribe and culture. Indian popcorn (dried seaweed), Ooligan grease (grease rendered from tiny Ooligans), and stories of the Eagle (one of four tribal clans) were part of their formation and quite a departure from our immersion in the Mississippi River, turkey, and stuffing sandwiches, and football.
Though we might not raise many totem poles in Dubuque, Iowa, our community has been blessed with many families and individuals that create foundations, invest in philanthropy, and use their accumulated wealth to improve our community and the lives of those that live in this community.
In essence, these individuals are creating a version of the Tsimshian Potlatch celebration. The commitment and ethic of which I am referencing is such a part of this community’s ethos I sometimes wonder if we take their largess for granted.
Our lives are God’s gift to us and what we do with those lives is our gift to God. Let’s remember to raise a metaphorical Tsimshian totem every time a member of our community invests their time, treasure, and talent in improving all of our lives.
Indeed, each act of generosity is deserving of celebration because it is a gift to be celebrated by all.
