On Wings and Feathers
By Jeffrey Morgan
The scout, a descendant from a long line of Navajo chiefs, was staring out the window of a twin-engine plane, watching the clouds go by—on his way to Rome. He had been selected to attend an International Ethno-ecology Symposium on behalf of The Native American Council. It was his last destination in Europe before returning to New Mexico.
He was reminiscing about the last time he was that far away from home. It was nearly thirty years ago when he was stationed in the Mariana Islands during the Second World War, after enlisting in the Marines. The military was keen on recruiting Navajo men at that point in the war after devising a code of communication based on their language. He was proud of his people: The code was never cracked!
The woman sitting next to him finally broke the silence, and that brought him out of his daydream. In the course of their conversation she recommended a visit to the Colosseum after nightfall because the city had set up a special light installation to enhance its ancient architecture. He kept that in mind while finding his way from the airport to the hotel where he had a reservation, but his itinerary was pretty jam-packed for the first two days.
One afternoon he decided to get a glimpse of the Spanish Steps. He asked the taxi driver why it had been given that name, but the man didn’t have a clue. While on his way, a woman came out of a shoe store in somewhat of a hurry and bumped into the Native American by accident, dropping one of her bags. He bent over to pick it up and handed it back to her. They both excused themselves, and then he asked her for directions.
She explained in broken English that she intended to visit the case of stairs as well, but there were some shoes in the window that caught her attention. So, she went in and bought them impulsively, making a remark about Italian fashion. When their eyes made contact she reacted immediately, noticing he was such a distinguished man, and smiled. The scout, however, had to attend another seminar in less than an hour and wished the lady a fine day.
In the evening the scout felt he had enough time to stopover at the Colosseum after his presentation. Just as he approached the Roman relic there was a sudden cloudburst with a heavy downpour. He ran for cover underneath one of the arches at its foundation and waited for it to subside.
Nearly at the same moment, the woman in question paid her bill at a restaurant and headed towards the bus stop across from the Colosseum when it started raining cats and dogs. She, too, decided it was best to seek some shelter before getting soaked. By chance, she ran under the same arch where the scout was standing just as a bolt of lightning struck, and the thunder snapped a half a second later. They were both dumbfounded to recognize each other from their collision earlier in the day.
The tribesman acknowledged the whole situation as an omen, where he must take the utmost care in his next line of action. He started off with small talk, asking where she was from, assuming she was Italian, but her answer proved him wrong.
She was Spanish, from Tarragona, a coastal city on the Mediterranean Sea. He directly turned the course of their communication into her language, utilizing his Mexican dialect. She spoke Catalan at first before realizing that he might not catch the grammar or syntax, so she switched over to classic Castilian. She started to laugh and relax a little, and he noticed she was already wearing her new shoes.
The rain kept pouring down. The scout took off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders because she started shivering. The jacket was warm and smelled of sage, which she adored. Then she explained that she was scheduled to moderate a discussion after a screening of “The Golden Age,” a surrealistic film by Luis Bunuel, and had to find her way to Villa Borghese before the movie started.
Being a gentleman he told her she could keep the jacket, but it was better to take off the new shoes or they would be ruined on the first day. When she did so he was expecting to see toes that were slightly disfigured from wearing tight high heels, but her feet were flat and callused from years of going barefoot.
Before apologizing for the premature departure, she invited him over for lunch the following day, so that he could retrieve his coat. He agreed and wrote down her address, which was located near the Vatican. Then she pulled the jacket over her head and made a run for it, gracefully skipping over the flooded street.
The following morning he was participating in the final meeting concerning cultural exchange programs held in the conference room of his hotel. When the meeting adjourned he excused himself rather abruptly, reading again the address she had given him, and arrived exactly on time!
It was a beautiful day so she proposed a little sightseeing tour. On a bridge over the Tiber, by Castel Sant’Angelo, she just so happened to kiss him on the cheek, and then grabbed his hand and dragged him along past the Pantheon to the Trevi Fountain. It was there that she explained to him that if he stood with his back to the fountain and threw a coin from his right hand over his left shoulder it would ensure a future visit to Rome, and so he did. Then she told him that if he threw a second coin over his shoulder it would lead to a new romance, and so he did!
On their way back to her apartment she bought some fish and said that they should visit Saint Peter’s Basilica after their meal. When they passed a window with some shoes on display she encouraged him to try on a pair. He complied and found something that suited his taste, and then bought two pairs. The second pair would be for his uncle, the presiding chief of his clan. He knew that his uncle would be envious if he was the only Navajo in Italian shoes. She offered to wrap up the extra pair of shoes like a present, and the scout thought that was a brilliant gesture.
After she made the meal, they made love, and never did make it to the cathedral. He decided then to postpone his flight a few days because there was nothing important as this moment back on the reservation. She told him he should check out of the hotel and stay with her, and so he did.
On the day of his flight she escorted him to the airport, where they exchanged their respective postal addresses, and embraced each other passionately. She started to cry, and as he wiped the tears from her eyes he proposed for her hand in matrimony. She nodded affirmatively, and kissed him repeatedly before his departure.
His heart was full of joy throughout the return voyage and he was happy to be home again. Most of his fellow tribesmen were anxious to hear something about his experiences. When his uncle finally came by to pay him a visit, he gaped at the shoes in wonder. Moments later, the scout uncovered his present and placed it on the table before him. With big eyes the Chief smiled, knowing there must be an untold story behind this gift. He inspected it thoroughly, starting with the golden ribbon, then the dark red paper, as if it was all sacred. He opened the box, stared at the shoes, and stroked the smooth leather with approval. He winked at his nephew and said that he would save them for a special occasion, and then mindfully closed the box again.
For several weeks they corresponded via the postal service. In one letter, he wrote that he had been busy preparing for her arrival, getting everything straightened up to accommodate her in every way he could. P.S., The Chief was delighted with the shoes.
She wrote back, saying she was nearly packed and looking forward to getting acquainted with their ancient customs, and P.S., She was pregnant!
He would name his first child Two Feathers because it would grow and evolve by virtue of two distinct lifestyles. His offspring would learn how to barbecue rabbit and goat over an open fire. His woman, however, felt that it must be a girl and would name their first daughter Maria; being of Spanish descent, not to mention Catholic and all. She endured life on the reservation, loving her man, but a little melancholic sometimes due to homesickness for the Mediterranean culture and its climate.
On their wedding day, everyone was waiting for the Chief to emerge from his Hogan hut. Most of the clan had already gathered together when he finally surfaced in his ceremonial dress, throwing his arms into the air, and beginning to chant while dancing in circles, grinning ear to ear. Three women pointed at his feet, astonished at first, then giggled out loud, and a chorus of laughter soon followed. No one had ever seen the Chief in his Italian shoes before!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jeffrey Morgan is an American jazz musician and composer born in Spokane, Washington. He has been active in the fields of free jazz and improvised music since 1977. He plays soprano saxophone, tenor saxophone, alto saxophone, piano, violin, trumpet, percussion and blows a mean conch shell. Morgan started studying the Performing Arts: Music; Dance; Experimental Theater; Ethnomusicology; Philosophy of Aesthetics; and Eastern Religion and Native American culture at The Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington, and graduated in 1977 with a Bachelor of Arts degree. He also attended the legendary Creative Music Studio in Woodstock, NY, and studied under Karl Berger, Don Cherry, and Oliver Lake. In 1987, Morgan moved to Birmingham, Alabama and worked with dancers Mary Horn and Susan Hefner; and started an ongoing collaboration with LaDonna Smith. His accomplishments are many, here are some highlights: he made his first tour of Europe with the Seattle-based trio Clank performing with Johnny Calcagno and Charly Rowen, as well as working with several international musicians from Denmark, England, Germany, and Czechoslovakia. From 1991 to 1996 he organized the Drang in Klang festival for experimental and improvised music, and in 1994 he established another open-door workshop for Conceptual Composition and Improvisation in Cologne. He currently resides in Cologne, Germany.
His discography includes three solo albums: Quasar-Mach (1983), Quartz & Crow Feather (2000), Ritual Space Solo Piano Works (2005); and collaborations Snake Eyes (1995) and Near Vhana (1997) with Joker Nies, Electroshock – I Woke Up Braindead (1999), Dial: Log-Rhythm (1999) with Keith Rowe, Sign of the Raven (2000) with Peter Jacquemyn and Mark Sanders, Magnetic Fields (2002) with Bert Wilson, Dubbel Duo (2002) with André Goudbeek, Peter Jacquemyn and Peter Kowald, Take No Prisoners (2003) with Bert Wilson, Avenue X (2003) with Capote, Terra Incognita (2004) with Paul Lytton, Room 2 Room (2009) with Lawrence Casserley, and White Smoke (2012) with Mike Goyvearts and Willy Von Buggenhout.
Lately he has been writing, in addition to "On Wings and Feathers" he has a semi-autobiographical book that he has just published, Jack Be Nimble, which has a version that comes with a CD. You can find a listen here:
https://soundcloud.com/jeffrey-morgan_saxophone
More about Morgan:
http://jeffreymorgan.net/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jeffrey_Morgan_(musician)
Jack Be Nimble:
https://books.apple.com/book/jack-be-nimble/id6445719985
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1345057
https://de.scribd.com/book/625806715
https://www.thalia.de/shop/home/artikeldetails/A1067990591
https://www.angusrobertson.com.au/ebooks/jack-be-nimble-jeffrey-morgan/p/9798215304952
https://www.kobo.com/de/en/ebook/jack-be-nimble-10
https://www.scribd.com/book/625806715/Jack-Be-Nimble?language_settings_changed=Engl
https://www.kobo.com/de/de/ebook/jack-be-nimble-10
