Hi! We’re the River Rocks.
We’re writing to share our experiences as an ordinary family navigating complex medical issues in the rural United States. Friends who know our story recommended that we start writing it for a wider audience. Hopefully, sharing what we've learned can help others facing similar situations.
The photo above nicely captures the essence of the stories we’ll share here. We spend a lot of time flooded by turbulent situations that are well beyond our control, but we also find sunbeams, sparkles, and glimmers amid even the worst inundations.
We’ll be writing about our immediate family (still living at home), which includes Mama, Papa, and two school-aged boys. Since our topics here will include children’s medical challenges, and we want to protect their privacy as much as possible, we’ve decided to use pseudonyms. Sort of.
Papa and both kids are registered members of a Native American tribe and have Indigenous names in their tribal (Dakota) language. Mama has an honorary Dakota name, too. The names we’ll use here are the English translations of these Dakota names. So, they’re not entirely made-up pseudonyms, but they aren’t our official legal names, either. All of our Indigenous names have interesting stories behind them, which we’ll share in the coming posts.
The same is true for River Rock. It’s not our legal last name, but it is the English translation of our legal last name. There is a family legend surrounding this name. Here is the story, as told by Papa’s maternal aunt:
“A long time ago, there was a Medicine Chief named Ironheart. He was a respected healer. During the American Indian wars, Ironheart got hooked on fire water (alcohol). He started secretly helping the American soldiers, in exchange for fire water, and ended up betraying his people. When he appeared, in disgrace, before the Tribal Council, the Head Chief decreed: ‘Your name is no longer Ironheart. You will now be called Greywind because you brought a cold darkness upon our people. Your children will be Greywinds for ten generations.’”
Papa was born a Greywind; however, when he was very small, he and his sisters were taken from the Reservation into the foster care system. When he was ten, he and his younger siblings were adopted and given a new last name, which translates to River Rock. When he returned to the Reservation and his people learned of his adopted name, they declared that Ironheart’s curse had finally been lifted.
When Papa came of age, he enlisted in the U.S. Navy and traveled all over the world. When he returned home again, and shared stories of his service, his cousin declared, “I see now why your new name is fitting, for you are the rock that lesser men break themselves upon.”
In recent years, following work opportunities, our River Rock family has made a new home in rural Illinois. It was shortly after we arrived here that one of our boys was diagnosed with a devastating tumor disorder and Papa’s kidneys began to fail. Those diagnoses brought on some of the most turbulent waters.
But there were glimmers, too.
Near our favorite lake, not far from our new home, stood an ancient, oddly-formed tree. Known locally as the “Chair Tree,” this tree, thought to be nearly 300 years old, appeared to have been purposefully shaped when it was a sapling. These kinds of trees, sometimes called “trail trees,” were thought to have been created by the Indigenous residents to serve as guideposts along a land route connecting two rivers. This tree would mark a path between the Illinois and the Mississippi.
This tree was bent in such a way that the trunk split into two, creating what looked like a seat for a human in the middle. Legend had it that Potawatomi Chief Senachwine (1744-1831) sat in the crook of that tree when he presided over tribal events. Thinking this was a neat bit of history, our River Rock boys tried out the tree’s “chair” long enough to snap a photo.
Unfortunately, the tree had reached the end of its natural life right around the time that we moved in. It still stood, but it no longer grew new leaves. Much to our surprise, the very day after we’d captured the above photo, the tree was cut down. The trunk was carved into a sculpture, and enclosed within a fence to keep all potential “sitters” out. It’s very likely that our River Rock boys were the last humans to sit in the Chair Tree, and it seemed fitting that they are also of Indigenous descent.
Later, when reading more about Chief Senachwine, we learned that the name “Senachwine” supposedly translated to "Rock in the Water," and was said to reflect that the chief was "so firm [in his convictions] that he was a rock around which others rippled like water." Although not thought to be one of our direct ancestors, the Senachwine name’s interpretation was remarkably similar to our own. That revelation helped us to feel that, despite our new health challenges and related struggles, this is the place we were meant to call “home.”
The same friends who encouraged us to write about our experiences also urged us to give crowdfunding a try. To learn more about our mountain of bills and most recent medical updates, please visit our GoFundMe page here: https://gofund.me/be9f2135