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I am sure that most of you are wondering what caddo means. I am a Native American. I am a tribal member of the Caddo Indian Nation of Oklahoma and I am also on the census roll of the Delaware Indian Nation in Oklahoma.

I was born in Denver in the 1950's and before long I was growing up in the beautiful mountains in Pennsylvainia. It was in a remote area long before anyone thought of I-81. There were no freeways in that area of the state and that is what made it such a special place. It was north of the Amish area in Lancaster and south of Scranton and Wilks-Barre. When I was very young it was like growing up in the 1930's or forties. A lot like in the James Stewart movie, "It's a Wonderful Life". And it was...

I know that this page is supposed to be about me but I would not be who I am today if not for some of the nicest, sweetest, loving and tolerant people on this planet. It has been said I can be quite the pain in the...you know what I mean. Anyway, because they put up with my shenanegans, I need to name them here so that ya all know who they are too. I miss and love them all a great deal.

It is one of those cool summer days in New England. You know when the air is crisp and clear early in the morning. Like when I was a child growing up in the mountains. Sometimes my Grandfather would take us all to the orchards in Valley View, a valley a couple of mountain ridges away from our own, which was near 5000 foot Blue Mountain. We would leave Tremont, which is French for three mountains. A small town, it is nestled in the cradle of three intersecting mountains and is the kind of place that people dream of and poets write about. We would ride in the old Desoto to the top of the mountains climbing higher and higher feeling almost as if we were on the first hill of a roller coaster ride. Once at the top, you are always struck by the impact of realizing just how high up you are. We were above the clouds and the farms below looked tiny like a Life magazine picture that had been taken from an airplane. You can see other countless mountain ridges as far as your eye can see, well beyond the end of the valley beneath us. My Grandfather nor I ever tired of such a lovely sight and sometimes we would stop at the look-out just past the crest of the mountain overlooking Valley View. Such a spectacular sight. I used to think to myself that only someone quite wonderful could have made such a beautiful valley. We would get out of the car and stand and look and breath it all in. We would never talk at these times. We didn't have to. What could either of us have said to compare with this awe inspiring picture before us. I was just a child but I knew that this was a special place and a special time in my life and my Grandpa's life. We had a special unspoken bond between us that formed as a result of the beauty of nature around us. We both had a special relationship with the Earth and especially the mountains, we knew this beauty was a part of the Great Spirit. After gazing out for an eternity he would nod and we would make the trip down to the valley floor. Going down was always quicker than the one up, your ears popping every once in a while. If you were alert you could always see deer running or feeding near by the steep and winding road. When almost to the bottom it was always overwhelming to me just how huge this rich and fertile valley really is. When you came off the mountain to the valley floor you could smell the corn and alfalfa in the fields and almost taste the fresh cut hay or recently harvested potatoes. The vibrant colors were alive in the fields waving at me with each passing breeze. The greens and yellows rich like some kind of God's natural velvet blanketing the valley just for my enjoyment. It was such a wonderful time during each trip over to Blyler's Orchards. I will never forget the smells that permeated the building where they stored and sold the freshly picked fruits. The aroma of the apples would make your mouth water and the pears would make your nose come to life. The plums would make you swoon. But the peaches...oh the peaches. So wonderful their perfume would overwhelm you and fill all your senses. Picking one from the bushel basket, it's skin so cool and dewy with velvet so soft it felt as though it could breath. It's color so rich in hues of yellow, orange and red like a beautiful sunset contained in the palm of your hand. Take a bite and your mouth would have an explosion of taste of such splendor and ecstasy as to be almost indescribable. Succulent juices so sweet your eyes would close and you would have no doubt that you just had a taste of manna from heaven itself. Mmmmmmm.

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