Page 20 - September 2019

PERSPECTIVES
Silence the Teacher
Paul Fanning, DTM
I still consider it as one of my most vivid memories of
my childhood. I can smell the cottonwood, visualize
the chips and dust flying and the flash of the hand- table laden with wooden branches, a box of
made carving tools. I learned to respect silence,
observe a master at work, and be patient for hours.
Come join with me as I wander down memory lane
and relive a great teaching moment in my life.
It was April of 1962. I was a mere lad
of eight at the time, and I was not a happy
camper. My mother had been collecting dolls
her entire life, had become a member of the
United Federation of Dolls Clubs and was
now the national business manager for their
monthly magazine. The local club she had
become a member of had been asked to put on
a display of “Dolls Around the World” at the
old Oakland Public Museum, a rather dank
and dreary small place where for three days I
was voluntold to attend. This wasn’t my idea of
fun, being around a group of old ladies (sorry
mom!) showing off their prized “dolls” that
had been made in the 1880’s or so. I couldn’t
even take my toy soldiers to play with. Had to
be the perfect, quiet little gentleman (seen but
not heard) for the entire weekend. Then I made
a discovery in another room of the museum
that changed my weekend from dull, duller
and dullest to a cultural awakening, a time of
20 ONE COMMUNITY
reflection, and mentorship. Here was an older
man, a Native American, calmly sitting at a
tempera paints, and old, hand-made carving
tools. He didn’t acknowledge or glance at
me that first day I slipped into his room. He
calmly and patiently went about his business
of transforming the cottonwood into unusual
but eye-catching figures. I discovered his
name was Abbot Sekestewa, a Hopi Indian
from Arizona who was a traditional Kachina
Doll carver. I remembered seeing Kachinas
used as advertising logos. They often were
in the trading posts and tourist stores along
Route 66 in Arizona and New Mexico.
Amazingly, faced with the boredom
of the doll club exhibit or watching this
man carve, I sat down and was quiet as a
mouse. The next day we arrived to open
the doll exhibit. I slipped off to the very
public, but to me, my secret room where
Abbot also began his day. I finally saw the
sign that proclaimed “DO NOT DISTURB
THE CARVER” so once again I sat in silence,
watching the masterful and amazing hands
turn wood into fascinating objects. At times
it was almost spiritual sitting there—a
form of meditation and eternal quietude