 This is my cradle poem. An Indian walks in me. She steps so firmly in my mind that when I stand against the pine, I know we share the inner light of the star that shines on me. She taught me this, my Cherokee, when I was a spindly child, and rustling in dry forest leaves, I heard her say, these speak. She said the same of sighing wind, of hawk, descending on the hair, and mother's care to draw the cover snug around me. A blackberry warming in the sun and copperhead coiled on the stone, these speak. I listened long before I learned the universal turn of atoms. I heard the spirit song that binds us all as one, and no more will I follow any rule that splits my soul. My Cherokee left me no sign except in hair and cheek, and this firm step of mind that seeks the whole in strength and peace. Hello and thank you to everyone who has joined tonight. I'm Chris Bronsted coming to you from Knoxville, Tennessee, the native lands of the Tolukie Peoples, now the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma, and United Ketawa Band of Cherokee Indians, the Yuchi Peoples, now at the Muscogee Creek Nation, and the Shawnee Peoples. This evening we celebrate a special friend of the University of Tennessee Libraries and the Clung Museum of Natural History and Culture, Mary Lou Awiakta. We have an incredible program planned, including thoughts and stories shared by some of Mary Lou's colleagues and friends, poetry readings like the one you just saw, and an opportunity for you, our audience, to submit your questions directly to the author herself. Internationally known as a poet, essayist, and storyteller, Mary Lou Awiakta is also an activist, community leader, and environmental advocate. In her work, she weaves Cherokee and Appalachian heritages with her experience of growing up during the nuclear era in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, to address current issues and to emphasize how important respect, harmony, and diversity are to the web of life. Her poems, essays, and stories have influenced change at local, national, and international levels for cultural diversity, protection of the environment, and civil rights. She was born Mary Lou Bonham, the seventh generation of a family that has lived in East Tennessee since the mid 1700s. She received her name Awiakta, which in Cherokee means Eye of the Deer, from her grandfather. And as her writing matured, she adopted Awiakta as her professional name. She graduated Magna Cum Laude from the University of Tennessee at Knoxville with a double major in English and French in 1957, the same year she married Dr. Paul Thompson. She says she has always had a deep pride in her alma mater. We are thrilled to announce that she has chosen the University of Tennessee libraries to preserve her personal and professional papers and make them available to future scholars. More about that later. But for now, let's get to know Mary Lou Awiakta a little bit better, through the eyes of two friends and colleagues. First is the Virginia poet, Parks Lanier, a frequent collaborator. And then we will hear from Awiakta's translator for the past 25 years, Alice Catherine Carls. Parks Lanier, Professor of English Emeritus at Radford University in Virginia, happy to salute Mary Lou Awiakta on the occasion of establishing her archives at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville. It is her alma mater and mine. But Knoxville is also her birthplace. From there with her parents and sister, she went to live in Oak Ridge, Tennessee on the Atomic Frontier, where thousands of men and women, modern pioneers, worked on a project that would help end the Second World War. She distilled that childhood and that world of not so long ago, and worlds even further back among native peoples and Appalachian pioneers into a volume of poetry entitled Abiding Appalachia, where Mountain and Atom meet. Its publication has spanned eight editions from 1978 to 2006. Her volume is the archive of an era. So it is fitting that records of its creation are now archived close to where it all began. One of the central motifs of Awiakta's life and poetry is Awi-Uzdi, Little Deer, the sacred white deer of the Cherokee. She wears his emblem on a necklace, the deer leaping in an atomic symbol. In the 37 years Awiakta and I have been friends, we have celebrated many Little Deer moments, moments when there is an alignment or a conjunction of people and events which bless our lives. This moment of archival significance is truly a Little Deer moment. And now I would like to tell you a few things about Awiakta, the teacher. In 1978, I was fortunate to be able to help Radford University establish a program designed to bring writers and community together, the Highlands Summer Conference. It had poetry, fiction, and Appalachian culture as its components. Over time, these blended beautifully. Its 40 years plus history is now being celebrated in 2021 in a new collection called Writers by the River. Awiakta's chapter is one of its most significant. Mary Lou Awiakta first came to the Highlands Summer Conference in the summer of 1984. Our five year old daughter and I met her at the airport and helped her settle in for two weeks of reading, teaching, and performing. It was a Little Deer moment. The class was magical. Awiakta organized the enthusiastic students into seven clans like the Cherokee. Invited them to design mandalas displaying their aspirations as writers and got down to a serious exploration of the realms of poetry. She had had previous experience with poetry in the schools. But this opportunity challenged her to new levels of growth as teacher and writer. And the students responded eagerly. In the class was Rebecca Hancock, a Pulaski County High School English teacher. Becky had just begun her own exploration of her native Appalachian history and culture. She says with the poems of abiding Appalachia, blending her upbringing in Oak Ridge with the history, legends, and myths of the Cherokee. Awiakta reinforced what I had recently learned. In the fall, I created the first Appalachian studies class for our English curriculum. My students excelled in collecting oral histories and delighted in storytelling. They soon formed a club and learned Appalachian jacktails to tell and perform. By March of 1985, less than a year after Becky Hancock had had her Little Deer Moment with Mary Lou Awiakta. The Apple Kids were formed. That's a P P a L as in Appalachia. They said it also stood for American people presenting Appalachian life through kids in dramatic skits. They turned it into an act for them. In May, they had their first public appearance. Over the next nine years, the group would present music, folk tales, oral histories, and original drama designed to promote a positive image of the Appalachian region in six states, with 203 performances, reaching nearly 30,000 people. Awiakta lit the fire. Becky Hancock fanned the flame. The students did the rest. Awiakta returned to Radford in 1988 to give the keynote address to the annual conference of the Appalachian Studies Association. About that time, a generous donor and his family had given the university a 375 acre nature conservancy, farmland and woodland bordering the Little River. The donor was seeking a name suggestive of the land's Cherokee associations. And someone suggested Mary Lou Awiakta name it. The donor had no idea that she even knew where Radford was. Another little dear moment. Awiakta suggested it be named for the Cherokee corn mother, the Seilu Conservancy. You can read more about that in her book, Seilu, Seeking the Corn Mother's Wisdom, which appeared in 1993. In 1989, Awiakta and her husband, Dr. Paul Thompson, came to celebrate the dedication of the Seilu Conservancy Retreat Center. The building, still in its early progress, had taken shape enough for the seven-sided council room at its heart to be visible in raw form. The seven sides evoked the ancient Cherokee clans, sensitive to the place and to the history and cultural diversity it represented, always so important in her own poetry. Awiakta asked me to go with her to seek a special blessing for his preservation. Another little dear moment. In 1990, Awiakta returned to lead her second Highland Summer Conference. Unaware of her impending return, the Apopiads had created for the 1989 season a new program titled Celebrating Appalachia. It was directly inspired by Awiakta's work. How thrilled they were to be able to perform in the presence of their inspiration. Another little dear moment with artists from different generations celebrating their mountain heritage and their work together dispelling negative stereotypes. It was a story to be repeated across the United States from Boston to Sonoma and across Appalachia itself. For that she would be honored in 2020 as one of Tennessee's 10 significant women chosen by USA today to honor the centennial of women's suffrage. By the time Awiakta returned to be a Highland Summer Conference featured also and read to the community in 2007. She was reading to friends who had become family to students who had become teachers themselves and to new fans who were just hearing her for the first time. She would begin a reading before any introductions had been given by quietly moving through the audience, placing into each person's hand a grain of colorful native corn. This would make them curious. By the end of the hour, through her vivid imagery, her compelling symbols, the sheer beauty of her words and her abiding love for her native region, they would understand. They would have heard the transforming stories of Awi Yusdi, of Seleu and the Trail of Tears, of the Prophet of Oak Ridge, the building of a secret city, and the harnessing of atomic energy, and of the yearnings of a child growing up in a world yet to define itself. They would have had their own Little Deer month. The story of the Cherokee that teaches the law of respect, and it's the story of Little Deer. I'll tell just the spine of the story. It's quite a long story, but it's very important. It's central to my work. But Cherokee hunters were killing too many deer. So a council was held, and the Little Deer, the Little White Deer, the chief of the deer, said, I will make a ceremony if the hunter kills and takes with respect. Thanks the deer for taking his life for his to go on. I will bless the hunt. And if he does not do that, I will track him to his home and cripple him so he never can hunt again. And thus, the law of respect for nature is incorporated in that law, but it's also the law of respect for people, for life in general, that if you take, you must take with respect and give back, or else there'll be a repercussion. My connection to a reactor is through the University of Tennessee at Martin. My late colleague, Professor Stan Siebert was her champion in the 1980s and 1990s, and invited her to several governor's school for the humanities. Her presentations were very popular with the gifted high school students. I followed the tradition by inviting a reactor in the early 2000s to be one of the featured speakers at our annual civil rights conference. But my first contact with her was through the publication in 1996 of the poem Mother Road in the University of Tennessee at Martin's Quarterly magazine. The original was published in her volume, Abiding Appalachia. Maire racine. La création souvent exige deux coeurs. Un pour sans raciner et un pour fleurir. Un pour nourrir partant sec et fortifier dans la tempête la fragile fleur qui, dans la gloire de son heure, affirme un coeur ignoré, invisible. I fell in love with the poem's caressing song and seamless simplicity. I immediately called a reactor and traveled to Memphis to meet her. Sensing that this was my first contact with a Cherokee Appalachian poet, she graciously introduced me to her work. Within a fort night, I wrote an article about her work and translated 29 of her poems in French. They appeared in the journal quasi première in 1997 with the cover featuring a drawing of a reactor made by French artist Rosa Tatar. Over the years, I established the solid collection between a reactor and France. Four sets of poems with translator's introduction appeared between 1998 and 2014 in the French poetry journal Poissy première. One set appeared in the online French journal recours au poème. And three sets appeared in the legendary Belgian journal Le Journal des Poëtes. Broadening her connections with Europe, she was asked just a few weeks ago to contribute a poem to the latest work of Italian sculptor Italo Lanfredini. Last but certainly not least, the French graphic artist Pierre Caillol and his wife and editor Marie offered to publish a bilingual artist's book for which a reactor and I are currently choosing poets. A reactor's message of respect for Mother Earth, respect for women and respect for science resonates with Francophone readers and has been well received over the years. In 2017, our French connection deepened when a reactor shared with me a collection of 50 letters she wrote to family and friends during her three year stay in France from 1964 to 1967. As we discuss the context of the letters, the picture of her lifelong love for French culture and French people emerged. Working with her on this new project has been one of the most rewarding experiences of our 25 year friendship. I discovered the superb training she received from her teachers, both at Oak Ridge High School and at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville, where she graduated magna cum laude with a double major in French and English, and was offered a full graduate scholarship to the Sorbonne in Paris France. France has played a vital part in a reactor's life. It has been a pivotal moment in her writing career. It is my privilege to piece together this story. This spring, a first article about it will appear in Poisy Premier. He'll talk about geraniums, list curtain windows, Voltaire, Perrault, Marie Curie, and the many other ways in which France blends with a reactor's appellation and Cherokee traditions. Thank you. Thank you, Dr. Lanier and Dr. Carl's. Those letters mentioned by Dr. Carl's that informed her recent article on Marie-Lou Aweyakta, now reside in the UT Libraries' Betsy B Creekmore Special Collections and University Archives. They are among the materials Marie-Lou Aweyakta has donated to the UT Libraries. The Marie-Lou Aweyakta papers include personal and professional correspondence, family documents and photographs, and drafts and reviews of her work, including her three books. Those materials will now be permanently available to scholars from around the world. Marie-Lou Aweyakta's gift to our special collections continues a family tradition of giving to the university. The Bonham family of Knoxville, Tennessee has a long tradition of philanthropy at the university, from creating numerous student scholarships and awards to gifting priceless works of art. Her gifts have provided numerous students with opportunities to learn and study that they would not otherwise have been able to afford. In addition, the family's gifts of artwork and papers have provided the campus and Knoxville communities with both artistic inspiration and an invaluable glimpse into our region's past. It goes without saying that the Bonham family and descendants have long been community-minded philanthropists and patrons of the arts. Their invaluable contributions to education, history and the arts will continue to be enjoyed by thousands of students, faculty, staff and Knoxvillians for years to come. The MacLung Museum joins the UT libraries in honoring Marie-Lou Aweyakta. This evening's program is presented in conjunction with the MacLung Museum's exhibition, Women's Work, which celebrates pioneering women artists. One of the featured artists is Maria Martinez, the famous Tewa Potter. Marie-Lou Aweyakta in her book, Say Lou, Seeking the Corn Mother's Wisdom, recounts how contemplating Marie Martinez's exquisite black-on-black pottery and her example of interweaving family and work helped Aweyakta bring her own art and life into balance. Let's hear more from Marie-Lou Aweyakta herself during a recent conversation with George Larremois, interviewer and writer for PBS, Memphis Magazine and others. Hello, I'm Marie-Lou Aweyakta. I'm very happy that my archives have been embraced here and come home to the hills. We were talking earlier and you expressed something that and I won't quote you because I'll get you wrong, but you were saying at the heart of your work, the heart of who you are is in the great smoky mountain. That is true. The mountains are inside my me and inside my bloodstream. That's that's where my families live seven generations. And so we're all mountain folks. And you say it is it is central. How is it central to your writing? Well, because I'm going to use an old mountain term. I soaked them up when I was little. I just soaked up with creeks and wind and trees and bears and things just it just became part of me so that when I came to talk about the atom or came to talk about anything, the mountains were naturally part of me because I grew up there. You know, it was a natural thing. Like you say, you're a natural born mountain person. I like one of the lines. One of something that you wrote was my mountains are very old. Yes. Yes, our mountains are very old older than the Andes and mellowed down, wrapped in mist like ancients deep in thought. They always look like ancients deep in thought and they are in fact the oldest mountains in North America. Very ancient and mysterious. You recall your first poem and if you would, can you recite it? Yes, I can recite it. If my mother recalled it, we were so the folks who grow up in the old tradition are so fortunate because it never dies. It even comes from beyond the grave and mother memorized my first poem and told me about it every year in my life. I was three and a half. She said you were three and a half Mary Lou. We were walking along the sidewalk past some neighborhood stores and a monarch butterfly died in the air and grazed your shoulder. Pick it up. Let us see it as it fell to the sidewalk. You leaned over carefully picked it up and said, Oh, little butterfly, how I wish you weren't dead. So you could fly with other butterflies instead. And then said, Mother, you picked it up and put it on the ledge of the storefront window. Turn to me and said, So nobody will step on it. And you were how old three and a half. And so looking back over the 85 years of my life, I think that was the keynote of all my work under all my work is that thought old little butterfly pain and injustice upsets me. And then I want to move people the earth out of harm's way. So that's just the way I am. I guess that's the way I was. Thank you. Talk to me for a second about DNA and about this notion that you've talked to us about, which is diversity in me diversity within yourself. Yes, right now, diversity is the big word. Everyone's talking about it. But mostly diversity outward diversity that is different race, different region, different points of view. But one of my focuses is the inner diversity because every individual is looking for the voice inside what the different elements of your family, your father, your mother, where you grew up, what influence it had, and how to balance it and speak from that balance center in whatever your profession is or your dream is to do. I'll be after decades from now, or a century from now, some graduate student or some college freshman is going to stumble across this and find it and look at it and listen to you and hear what you've said. What message do you want to send across time to people who might be exposed to your work and listen to your work? Well, I want to send the message of hope. And I want to send the message of you are a worthy person. Look at your roots, your courage is your memory. Gather up your roots in your culture and be proud. And don't let anybody cut you in little pieces. You know, trust your own thinking, trust where you're going and get the job done that you want to get done. It has been a true privilege for all of us to get to know Mary Lou through our three interviews tonight. Once again, we would like to thank Dr. Lanier, Dr. Carl's and Mr. Laramore for their time and celebrating with us this evening. Please note that all interviews will soon be available to view in their entirety on UT Libraries YouTube page at UTK Libraries, where some of you may be tuning in from tonight. Mary Lou's impact on the University of Tennessee and the world around us is simply incredible. To celebrate her many accomplishments, I would now like to welcome Dean of UT Libraries, Steve Smith. Good evening. I'm Steve Smith, Dean of Libraries at the University of Tennessee. And Mary Lou, Auyachta, thank you for your message of hope. It's been a tough year for all of us, and we need more messages of hope like yours. I'm joining this evening celebration to express my personal gratitude for the relationship you have developed with the UT Libraries and to thank you on behalf of the university for entrusting your archives to the University of Tennessee for bringing your archives home. I'm also pleased that I have been empowered to formally declare Mary Lou Auyachta and accomplished alumna of the University of Tennessee. The accomplished alumni award program honors UT alumni who have achieved great things in their profession, volunteer roles or civic involvement. You have excelled in each of these areas as a writer, as a teacher, as an advocate for peace, civil rights, environmental justice, and respect for nature. The honors already accorded to your work both your literary accomplishments and your public engagement are far too many to cite this evening. But to name a few, you've been named a distinguished Tennessee writer, a woman of vision, and just this past year, one of the women of the century. The accomplished alumni award may confer some small additional distinction upon you, but in truth, you distinguish the University of Tennessee. We are proud that you have honored the University of Tennessee and the libraries with the distinction of holding the Mary Lou Auyachta papers and all the treasures within them. By preserving your archive and sharing your legacy with future scholars, the UT library becomes a wellspring for scholarship inspired by your message of restoring balance and harmony. Thank you, Mary Lou Auyachta. I'd like to ask you to share a few words with us. Is it this one? I'm so touched with this award. I thank you so much. And we're trying here to hold it up as a beautiful crystal. And let's see, am I supposed to know this way? Now here we have it. It is very beautiful and such a beautiful gift to me. I'm so happy. It makes me so very happy that the University thinks I'm maybe a beacon shining bright, because we all know that the University has been for many, many, many decades. Thank you very, very much. And I also want to thank everybody who's participated in this gathering. It's really quite wonderful and a great gift. I've considered a great gift that you've given to me. When I was little, and said, I want to be a poet, mother, whose maiden name was McCormick said, that's good, Mary Lou, but what will you do for the people? And she was introducing me right there, four years old, introducing me to the Appalachian, the mountain people, all diverse peoples tradition of share what you have with your community, share with the community, be part of the community. And that's what UT was to the family of the seven generations, you know, it was if anyone spoke of the university, there was only the university was the University of Tennessee. And I thank you for this great honor so much. And I want to do one wild thing, because we all know that the Scottish Irish and the mountain people occasionally have a wild hair. And so I was thinking, this is the time which when we're coming out of a world pandemic, and we're feeling so happy. And if we were all together, where we could do it, we might jump up and just sing together, Rocky top, you'll always be a con suite home to me. Isn't that a fun song? And I remember routing us when that song broke out, but joy and dance. Oh, look, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. And I also, this is a very interesting circle in my life, there are many concentric circles. And one of them is that I should be coming home to the University of Tennessee with my work. I was born just across the street in the Fort Sanders Hospital in the Fort Sanders area. My parents moved here right after they married. And two years later, I was born in Fort Sanders hospitals there. And then, by the way, I was premature. And there was four pounds at six ounces. And they said there was four pounds of blue black hair and six ounces of me but that I probably would do well. So here I am back. And thank you to also for the great training. As some one of the speakers pointed out, I had excellent training at UT and teachers. And again, I lived in the Fort Sanders neighborhood in a stronghold and up on Laurel Avenue, which is where my parents have lived when they were first married. And and so I got a wonderful education. Let's say a great thank you to my professors who had their hearts in their work and with the students. And I being one of them, it was so wonderful. I had two advisors through my entire college career, Dr. Bain Steward and Mr. Charles Webb. And they helped me plan the curriculum and wonderful education at UT. So as we're getting ready, coming out of this, there are going to be many changes, many new paths forged in this time beyond the pandemic and different formulas of people connecting and sharing the arts. And I know UT and their students will be in the forefront of that effort to forge new trails and new paths. And this is a wonderful circle because I've come back to the mountains. Again, a concentric circle. And so through the archives, which you have so beautifully organized and preserved, I'll be able to be part of the next circle as the young go out and do do their work to keep the world in balance. And I think all things are possible for those who have a deep faith and the creator to listen to the laws of respect, which are wed in to the great web of life. They are from the, in my belief from the creator, the laws of respect have to be followed. And Little Deer is one ancient story that the Cherokee developed to teach the law of respect and Seleu is another. And I'm so glad what I hoped my work would do when I sit out in 78, there was not much information in textbooks about Indigenous peoples or about Appalachian peoples as a whole. And so I wanted to bring these, these cultures are blend within me, the Scots Irish from the Cormac side. And, and there comes the Cherokee there. And also the bottom side, I was so appreciative of recognizing my family, because that's another characteristic of Appalachian peoples, we're big family people. And, and I know there's a lot of family there that said now we're going to be online. And I'm so glad you are and my husband, I wore my wedding ring, I met him at UT, and the Wesley Foundation, he's a West Tennesseean. And he passed away in 2015. But you may remember Dr. Andy Holt. And in regard to my uncle Fred Bonham, and I had was a freshman. And the house mother said Dr. Andy Holt would like to see you at your earliest convenience. And I was scared to death, you know, the administration was up on the hill just below Erzhal. And so I went and he said, your uncle has endowed university with gracious giving and I just want to speak to you. And then he said in a very kindly way, you know, I have a nephew here. And I think you would like to know him. And his name is Paul Thompson. And I said, Well, I know I'd like to know him because we've been dating for about two months. But he never told me he was your nephew. So the Holt's the family, the Holt's Bonham's and McCormick's are gathered there and my two daughters live in Knoxville. Alex Connor and Andre Herron and my son Andrew Thompson lives in Nashville. But they are all mountain people to the core. They love, love, love the mountains. And they went to the University of Tennessee, of course. And now the grand, the grandchildren did the grandchildren live in Knoxville also. Family is a wonderful thing. And I would like to leave you with one of my mother's teachings, which my father believed in and my grandfather also with all the family, she would say, and this was the middle. This was just after Pearl Harbor. I was five years old. The country was in a horror. And she said, the family is the basic survival unit. Always be loyal to your family, uphold your family, and look on all peoples in the broader sense as part of the human family. So bye bye. I think my seven minutes up. Is that right? Is that right? Somebody tell me? Or did I go 15 or something terrible? You didn't do anything terrible. Oh, great. Can I say Mary Lou, it's always wonderful to see you. And I'm grateful to have had the opportunity to work with you through your gifts to UT Library's special collections. Pleasure to thank you. Is my mic on? Yes. Yes. It's been a great pleasure for me. And I'm so proud of your poetry. I'm looking forward. Oh, thank you more. And I also wanted to echo Dean Steve's sentiments and expressing our gratitude for all that you've done in support of the university. So we have an amazing crowd joining us virtually tonight. And I'm going to go ahead and kick off our brief Q&A now. And I'm going to ask tonight's first question, which is how you see the role of poetry and science working together. Okay. Well, on its highest level, science is poetry because it's intangible through the atom. For example, all the world is really made up of atoms, as everybody knows now. When I was a little child, nobody'd heard the word atom except a high scientist. But now people know it. And they know that everything is made up of atoms. And so poetry, it's very interesting that many of the theoretical nuclear physicists such as Marie Curie and Niels Bohr, the father of quantum physics, quoted poetry frequently, they were great poetry lovers. And I think poetry can help people envision the world. And here's something somebody could do. It's in a poem of mine called Star Vision. And I woke up one night and in the three o'clock and just thought, what if everything in the room, you could see on the subatomic level, and every atom has a little star in it. And there would be masses of swaths of stars all around trees, the bed, everything rocks. And so anytime I feel downhearted, I think about if I could see it, on the scientific level on the subatomic level, it would be a world full of light. And so the light is really there. And when the time came for me to be treated for cancer, I was treated with photons, radioactive, you know, radiation treatment. And I'd like people to remember that the scientific development in Oak Ridge was for a weapon when it was needed. But since then, for peace and think of how many cancer patients alone have been treated by radiation therapy and helped. And so, you know, the poem, I said the poem for my radiologist, and he said, could I put that on my wall for my patients. And I said, Sure, no charge. I tried the training for treatment, but he wouldn't take it. Well, thank you. That was a beautiful look at how poetry and science can light put light on on each other. And if there are any other questions, I think we've got one coming in. What inspired Rising Fawn and the Great Fire Mystery? Oh, Rising Fawn inspired it. It's a true story. TV health, I was on TV, then I went to the cleaners. And the cleaners said, you know, we're part of our family's talk talk, and one of our ancestors was saved down in Mississippi when the soldiers were burning her town and brought to Memphis in a box marked clothing and given in the care of white family here. And then the soldier who saved her who was a white soldier had to go into the West because he deserted the army. And so he was capital punishment for him if he was caught. So this was the inspiration for the story because St. Luke's press had commissioned me to write a story that commissioned 10 writers to write a story about Memphis at Christmas time and they wanted to start with indigenous people. And it was the cleaner that said to me, you know, the cleaning establishment stories are everywhere. And this story then the artist who did Rising Fawn had a manuscript. She was Choctaw Heritage too, and had a manuscript called the Tushpa manuscript that was very famous. That was her relative who was in the same place as Rising Fawn. And it was all the detail of what happened and how they got ready for the journey and what happened on the journey. And the family, now you haven't been investigated, you've been investigated by a native family. I mean, I had to be vetted by her family before they would let me use that manuscript, but they decided I was honest. So I said I will not use anything except what you approve out of this manuscript. We all credit everything. So this book is a real story. And it's a she was a real person. And this little girl, when that book first went out with the information agency to a global tour, my work was in that tour. And it went to Australia and Auckland, New Zealand, and then Auckland, New Zealand got it. And they used it school wide, right after it was published in 84 and then later Memphis did too. So Rising Fawn is a true story. And I think white moves people is because Rising Fawn and her grandmother were real and moving people. And it isn't a child's story. It's a family story. But our publishing system doesn't have any category for family story. Native people do. But our publishing system is adult, young adult, you know, right, etc. So it's a story for the family. And it is true. And then a Choctaw writer has picked it up and written the story to spy. So it had, you know, widened that story, helped another writer write another story. Isn't that good? We all help each other. Yes, I mean, it just points out to your philosophy of, you know, the web of life and how everything is connected and how that leads to more creative creation. You probably felt that in your own life with your creative I aspire to be able to inspire other people like the like you have. But I'm sure you will because I read some of your poetry. Thank you. I think we have another question. Oh, do you have a favorite spot in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park? And if so, can you tell us why? Is there a story or poem associated with the spot? Oh, yes. Another story. One afternoon, Paul came by the dorm strong hall, you know, over there across the street, and said, let's go climb the chimneys. And I said, okay, it was March, but you know, there's a sign at the bottom of the chimneys where people are chiseled in. This is not a mountain climb. This is not a hike. This is a mountain climb. Danger, danger, danger. Well, it's those two peaks up there. And there didn't use to be a trail after halfway up. And we started up the peaks. Do you know what I mean? The chimney tops. That's where by the way, that's the site of the Great Fire two years ago. But we went up to the top of the small of the blunt chimney and then all across that jagged ridge up to the sharp one. And there was 360 degrees, the smokies, beautiful. So like standing at the beginning of time. And he's had a pen on his pocket. And he took the safety pin off and was my engagement ring. And so we got engaged on top of the chimneys. Oh, well, that's what this expression and he insisted. Oh, he was so he had a little devil streak and he insisted on putting it on my finger over the chimney. If it had dropped, it would have gone 1000 feet down. But he didn't drop it. Got it on my finger. And then we had to take it off, put it back in the box because we had to come down the mountain. And those mountains slip and grab blackberry wires and bars and Oh, was something. So I put the ring back on went back in strong hall mud. My everything was scratched. My face was scratched. And I said to my friends, I'm engaged. And they looked at me and they said, you better be. That's my story. Yeah, can be wrongs. It's a great story. Um, I was wondering if you had any advice for burgeoning environmental activists and people who young people who really want to make a difference in this world? What would you tell them to do? The first thing I think is go and commune with nature in a silent way. Leave all the screens at home, the phones, everything and really learn and listen deeply. Because nature has a voice and and have to be still and know the most ancient advice which comes from the Bible be still and know, listen to it, then follow the law of respect and go, affiliate affiliate with people who are absolutely devoted to making a difference in the environment so that you can multiply your energy by fusing it with other energies. You know, that's the way that Adam works fusing energies. And it's true, you can one can do things alone, you know, in your house, individual, like not uses plastic bags and different things like that. But it's very important to get add your energy where energy is being concentrated to do specific things for your community or on the world level also. And and people who are in science and training their minds are very important studying what to do. For example, we, we have the vaccine for the pandemic because people were prepared to study. They were scientists who could figure it out. And I think there is hope. You know, my poem out of ashes, peace will rise if the people are resolute. That's that's so funny that you because we're we're going to play a video in a minute of you reading that poem. Oh, really? And I was going to say, I'm glad that we're ending tonight on a note of hope. You you give us such hope, Mary Lou. And I wanted to thank you and our audience, your audience, the audience for submitting thoughtful questions. And we have, you know, continued thanks and deepest appreciation to you, Mary Lou, for your support of the University of Tennessee and taking the time to celebrate with us. It was my joy, really. And I'm so interested in you young people. You may not think you're young people, but you are worried about who's working now and who's, you know, helping and putting their energy and and I'm so thankful to my colleagues who came. And I'd like to say thank you to them, George Parks and Alice Catherine, and also to the Invisible One Judy Card, who partners with George Lairmore and helped create our interview. I always want the partner who is not seen to be named also. Very often it's a woman, too. Well, before we move to out of Ash's peaceful rise, I just wanted to remind everyone that all of Mary Lou's books are available to purchase online through Amazon and other retailers. And please be sure to check out more information about UT Library Special Collections and University Archives by visiting lib.utk.edu slash special. And keep in touch with what's new at McClung Museum and plan your next visit when you check out McClung Museum.utk.edu. I also wanted to say thank you to everyone who had a hand in planning tonight's celebration, especially Alex Connor and Claire Veline. And I think I speak for all of us in saying it was an absolute honor to gather together to celebrate the incredible works, impact and generosity of you. Mary Lou Albuyachta. Thank you so much. It was my joy. And I'm going to be thanking all of you tonight. Well, this was something about where we live today and hope Claire Veline made her studio available so this could be happening. My neighbor, you know, and the neighbor across the street brought a light and her husband brought a glass of water so we can all do something takes a village. As somebody said. Well, as we end our time together this evening, we hope you will enjoy one final reading. So here is out of Ashes Peaceful Rise. Good night to you all. Out of Ashes Peaceful Rise and that's in this book. Our courage is our memory. Out of Ashes Peaceful Rise. If the people are resolute, if we are not resolute, we will vanish. And out of Ashes Peaceful Rise. Our courage is our memory.