"Douglas" Is My Middle Name

Dad, Louis Wilbur Johnson, told me many stories of Uncle Doug, the uncle whose name I carry as my middle name. I looked over the attendants shoulders as he looked over the ancient maps and lists of names. I saw Doug's name there, grandpa. I asked the attendant there to show me his grave as well. Section 2, grave 39, row 14.
I remember the stories dad used to tell me about Doug. The crazy and funny things he did. He was such a cut up. Something about Indians and humor.
And I remember the stories dad told me about Leukemia.
It was the Leukemia that got Uncle Douglas. You had a lotta land just a few years before when the government told you and the rest of our family you were no longer Indians...that the U.S. lead genocide was now complete. So you sold a lot of that land to try to save Uncle Doug. I was told by my sister Roxanna that you even had a doctor from Germany flown in to try to save Uncle Doug. But it didn't work.

The sad story dad told was how Uncle Doug was so strong and healthy. That he grew so much in the three years dad was gone in the army. And then...he would waste away to almost nothing. It really hurt dad to watch Uncle Doug go. No doubt it hurt the whole family.
And who left these flowers. Obviously these silks and plastic were left a long time ago. My Aunt Alice, maybe?

"And so it goes."

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