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Vtla Kaliseji - Native American Diabetes Resources

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Samuel Lancaster Memorial

Samuel Ross Lancaster
March 12, 1924 - March 17, 2002

He wasn't the perfect father.


Samuel Ross Lancaster was born on March 12, 1924 to Samuel Lancaster and Mary Jane Ross. He was a holy terror, and drove his parents up a tree. He used to steal watermelons and eat only the heart, leaving the rind.


He left home early. Went to war, became a sniper for the Marines. Wore a beret. Never finished school, but spoke Spanish, French, Portuguese, Italian, German, English and Tsalagi-Atali. Got a Purple Heart in World War II, fighting in Europe.


He drove trucks, washed dishes, did construction, and worked his tail off. He stood up for himself, a proud Cherokee, determined to beat the stereotype that was put out there by the dominant culture, of the lazy Indian who never worked but got drunk all the time.


He was a Disney fan. Went to Disneyland annually, often working six days a week in order to afford a week's stay at the Disneyland Hotel for himself and his family. He loved to gamble; Harvey's in Lake Tahoe was his favorite, and he was a member of the High Rollers Club. He adored his wife, Shirley, and never forgot his promise to buy her diamonds, even if it meant more hours on Saturday. He even sang to her at the Sahara in Lake Tahoe, crooning from a stage-side table as Dean Martin stepped down from the stage to sing along with Dad to my Mom.


He wasn't perfect. He drank, excessively, until it nearly killed him and had devastated the family and his beloved wife. In 1984, he finally got on the wagon and stayed there to his dying day.


But the damage was done.


Dad drank a lot. And I do mean a lot. He weakened his liver and his immune system by doing so. He carried too much weight around his midsection, and opened himself up to diabetes.


In 2000, Dad was diagnosed with diabetes as I was. They called it borderline. He watched his diet and was careful; I got him a meter when I helped out at an event for SaVon Drugs Stores. Dad never used it, believing he was doing enough. His doctor insisted it was still borderline.


Dad had continuous problems with circulation. Wounded in his feet and having club feet, the drinking didn't help. He wound up having vein bypasses in both legs. One leg got bad, however, and he had no choice but to enter the hospital in November of 2001 for treatment. I was called to come, as Dad's health had deteriorated to the point that he could pass away on the operating table.


Dad survived the operation and kept his leg; but he had other issues. His lungs were full of infection; they had to be pumped constantly. He was on a liquid diet and I inquired as to what it was. I was informed it was a sugar solution. I asked them to check Dad's H1 AC numbers, to verify his blood sugar intake. It took five days of ragging on my part before this took place.


Dad was no longer borderline diabetic. He was now full blown diabetic, with high blood sugar. He was immediately put on insulin. He was now also end stage emphysema, an odd thing since Dad stopped smoking around 1958.


In the meantime, I had a doctor, who shall remain nameless, who pushed us to pull Dad's plug, stating it was what my father wanted. He babbled on and on about my Dad and this was his choice, blah, blah, blah. Somehow, I didn't buy it. It didn't sound like my Dad. My father wasn't the type who wanted to go "gently into that good night." With him, it was more like kicking, screaming and fighting it tooth and nail. That was the father I knew. So I asked Dad. "Is this what you want? If it is, I'll pull the plug."


My father, weakened as he was, managed to pull his hand into a fist of pure rage. "HELL NO!" he gasped, and then lay back on the bed.


I went out to the doctor and told him. "Dad's not getting unplugged. He doesn't want it and you can't do it. That's all there is to it. My father is a warrior and he's going to go out of this life AS a warrior. He stays."


The doctor in question tried various stunts to get us to unplug Dad. Pressuring my mom. Pressuring another doctor. Finally, I made it clear that Dad wasn't moving unless he and my mother wanted it. This was their wish, and I was going to stick to it. Mom began to make arrangements to get my father out of there, and after some wrangling, we got my father to a different specialist and medical center in San Leandro, where he got a few months to say good bye to my mother. The doctor from the other hospital said he would not live to see Christmas; he lived past Christmas, and died shortly after his birthday, on March 17, 2002.


Dad was in pain that night, but he asked the nurse to bring something for it. He gave her a wink...ever the flirt...and walked on to the Nightland, with the wink frozen on his face.


We cremated my father and per tradition, he held a bundle of sage, sweetgrass, cedar and tobacco in his hands, wrapped in deerskin from his home reservation in Oklahoma. Dressed in his ribbon shirt, he was smudged with sage, and the last thing placed into his casket was the Eagle feather given to him in honor of his military service at a pow wow in his honor in 1991.


Some of his ashes will remain with my mother, to be buried with her when she walks on. Some were taken to Oklahoma in 2003 and quietly interred in a morning ceremony with members of the tribe present, near the grave of his ancestor, Chief John Ross, whose link to my father was verified by the late Leon Gilmore, tribal historian under Chief Ross Swimmer.


Dad will also be honored at the Cherokee National Veteran's Memorial, which is under construction in Tahlequah. His memorial, which will be inscribed in bricks at the Memorial, reads simply:


SAMUEL ROSS LANCASTER
UHISODI AWI
"LONESOME DEER"
USMC CORPORAL / WW II SNIPER / TRANSLATOR
03/12/1924 - 03/17/2002
REST IN HONOR WITH OUR LOVE
WOLF CLAN WARRIOR


We accept no donations for this site. Tripod allows us to keep it for free, and in memoriam of my Dad and his devotion to his people as well as to others, I am involved in several events as well as memorials. I participate and dedicate my participation in the following annual events to my Dad:


AIDS Walk Orange County
CHOC Walk, Children's Hospital of Orange County
Cruise Against Cancer, Los Angeles to Ensenada


If you are interested in sponsoring me or participating in these events, contact me at

Waya5@yahoo.com.

All donations will be gratefully accepted. If you are interested in participating in the Cruise Against Cancer, which benefits the American Cancer Society, contact me for details. A memorial fund will be set up at a future date; watch these pages for updates.


He wasn't the perfect father. But I love him and I miss him.

Updated: 7/29/2004

Dad and Me
dad.jpg
First Pow Wow, Newark Community Center, 1975
Cherokee
written by Walela (Rita Coolidge, Priscilla Coolidge, Laura Satterfield)

From album Walela, Triloka Records, 1998.

Sweet eyes of my father
In my own eyes I can see
The vision of the ancient Cherokee
Sweet sacred inspiration
He passes on to me
Heartbeat of the gentle Cherokee
And I heard him say
That's just the way love is
When love is bliss

And we will walk the mighty circle
Double cross the hands of time
Laugh and we'll cry as egos die
Until we get to the other side
Put on our wings and fly

The soul of sweet forgiveness
Walks his path with dignity
With the wisdom of the ancient living Cherokee
I come from his deep water
As much like him as I can be
And I carry to my own children
The promise of the Cherokee
And I heard him pray
That everywhere God is
Let freedom live

And we will walk the mighty circle
Double cross the hands of time
As nations die and hearts unite
When we'll get to the other side
Put on our wings and fly

Song of Monolah
Sing of Mother Earth
Let everyman live free
Let every voice be heard
Let every child be born
Knowing the way

And we will walk the sacred circle
Join our hands across all time
Living in peace when we believe
We're gonna get to the other side
Join our voices across the sky
When we get to the other side
We're gonna leave this world behind
Till we get to the other side
We're gonna wear our Cherokee pride

Donadagohvi, Uhisodi Awi...Svtvgeyu...
Waya Golanv

Cherokee National Veteran's Memorial
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This Memorial honors all Cherokee Veterans who served their country and tribe.

Memorial for Samuel Ross "Uhisodi Awi" Lancaster
dadmemorial1.jpg
Installed in August, 2005. The installer led us; he said he would never forget my father.

My mother traveled to this Memorial in 2005.
cherokeenationalmemorial2.jpg
One of the proudest days of our lives. My father finally was home with his people.