As she completed her own journey through life, an angelic woman taught us well
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"From the day we arrive on the planet
And blinking, step into the sun
There's more to be seen than can ever be seen
More to do than can ever be done"
From "The Circle of Life," The Lion King, Music by Elton John, lyrics by Tim Rice, Performed by Elton John
Alice Nenemay Camel arrived on this planet 90 years ago. The year was 1920. It was the end of the second decade of the 20th Century. The Flathead Reservation opened to homesteaders only 10 years earlier, and someone by the name of Woodrow Wilson was the 28th president of the United States.
Alice lived to see the 44th president, and he looks very much like her.
Mrs. Camel, who passed away on Sunday, July 25, saw more in her lifetime than one should be expected to see. She did more than what most would expect "could ever be done."
Maybe that's why those four lines from a popular movie and an incredible Broadway production capture in a small way not so much the life of Alice Nenemay Camel but how she lived that life.
And yet, not even those lyrics capture the persona, the very essence of Alice Nenemay Camel. And I certainly cannot capture it never having met her.
What I did capture, however, is what exudes from each of her children, each of whom stood tall and proud at the wake and rosary service for their mother at the Longhouse in St. Ignatius, the night before her funeral at St. Ignatius Catholic Church.
Each stood in a line about 15 feet from the casket bearing this angelic woman and one of the last of the tribal elders. Each received well-wishers gracefully, fully aware that the person in the casket behind them was not only their mother but the matriarch of a mission and a movement.
The first person to welcome me to Montana after my first column appeared on Thursday, July 8, 2010, was one of Mrs. Camel's daughters, Helen, who is a social worker for the tribe in Pablo. Helen called me and said she was glad I was here.
You don't forget people like that.
What you also don't forget is that people such as Alice Nenemay Camel take more than their physical bodies with them when they pass on. They take away an ethos of enlightenment, a surreal understanding of how the universe works and how we all play small but vital parts in it.
Alice Nenemay Camel did her part. And she did it well. Her children have gone on to successful careers and lives throughout the United States, from California to Florida and all parts in between. One is a Lt. Colonel in the active U.S. Army. Another is an artist. Another is head of the Kicking Horse Jobs Corps outside of Ronan. All have made an impact in their respective endeavors. They've achieved so much because of a small but larger than life woman who embraced her faith and let it take her to where she needed to be.
When we look around society and asked ourselves why things are the way they are, why our children are often in a perpetual state of rebellion, maybe we need to pull back for a minute.
Maybe we need to recognize that Alice Nenemay Camel and her late husband Henry William Camel did it under far more adverse conditions, with far fewer resources, facing far greater obstacles, from a depression to wars to prejudice and on and on. They did it through strength, not acquiescence. They never wavered from their core beliefs in child rearing, and it shows.
Alice Nenemay Camel didn't have Oprah Winfrey. She didn't have the family counselors or the countless personalities who tell us what we're doing wrong without having a clue about how it's supposed to be done right. She didn't consult a best-selling author or the television network's family experts.
Alice Nenemay Camel consulted her guts. She consulted her faith. She also had her instincts, her supportive tribal community, her friends, her family and her God.
There was no need to consult a manual on mistakes.
On the same day she passed I made my first visit to St. Ignatius. I went inside both the original church built in 1854 and sat inside the current structure. I marveled at the murals and the general serenity that runs throughout the church.
At the rosary, tribal elders and those who knew it prayed in the Salish tongue. Their words may have been unrecognizable to someone from several thousand miles away but they clearly resonated with those who packed the Longhouse.
Even as you came to grips that this was one of those special moments, where you could be listening to this beautiful language for a final time among a closely knit group of people, you also gained a peaceful reassurance that the person they were praying for was chanting right there with them.
Alice Nenemay Camel has completed her circle of life. She did more than most of us can ever imagine, and she witnessed things many of us never imagined we'd see or dare to see.
All along, Alice Nenemay Camel never blinked, not even as she closed her eyes for the final time.
