Today's post is a tribute to a lovely man I knew decades ago when I was a young woman. Many years ago I worked at a major university which was trying to attract minority students to achieve more diversity in its graduate programs. I was a lowly administrative assistant in the Department of Graduate Studies, and my duties were to support three Associate Deans who represented three minority groups. My bosses were all totally inspiring. They were an African-American woman, a Chicano man, and a Native American man. The man pictured above became my particular mentor, and I hope I can say, friend. His name was Hartman Lomawaima, a brilliant man with a PhD in Education from Stanford (undergrad degree from Harvard!), who was also a member of the Bear Clan, in the Hopi village of Sipaulovi, Second Mesa, Arizona.
Hartman used to regale us with stories of his family. We rarely left the office at lunchtime, and several of us spent the time playing backgammon together. I was a novice, but after playing with Hartman for several months, I got pretty good at it. We would often share stories of our lives while we sat and played. He had a grandfather whom he adored who was a renowned silversmith in Arizona. I still have a few pieces of his beautiful work that I was able to purchase.
One of my favorite stories that Harman shared with us was how his family got their surname "Lomawaima". In the time of his ancestors, the Hopi people experienced a terrible drought. The crops failed, the animals died and the people suffered. Hartman's ancestor decided to make a spiritual journey that lasted many many days. After walking alone for a long time, meditating on his people's troubles, he finally turned for home. As he walked home to his village, the rains began and the drought was relieved and the people and their land prospered again. His ancestor was given the name Lomawaima, which Hartman told us means "Good Walking".
While I was employed in this position, I became pregnant with my daughter Sara. I worked throughout the pregnancy, only going on leave a week or so before her birth. Sara was born at the university hospital that was associated with the institution where I worked. She was born in the early afternoon, and a few hours later (after my husband had gone home to be with our son), my very first visitor was my boss, my friend, Hartman Lomawaima. He took the time out of his day to walk over to the hospital to offer his respects. I remember him sitting at the foot of my bed smiling, no, Beaming at me. He barely spoke, just sat and smiled at me, with the expression much as he has in the photo at the top of my post. I was a bit dazed from the birthing experience, so I didn't have much to contribute, so we just sat together smiling at one another. It was actually kind of a spiritual experience, just having him sit with me after all the excitement and hubbub and joy of my daughter's birth. I could feel his silent good wishes and blessings for me and my daughter so strongly. I won't ever forget it.
He was a great listener, a kind person, and a wonderful inspiration to me. He was a fine man who anyone would be wise to emulate. In later years he went on to become the first Native American Director of the Arizona State Museum. Hartman dedicated his life to fostering educational causes such as serving on the Boards of the Hopi Education Endowment Fund; National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian; American Association of Museums; and the National Trust for Historic Preservation.
I recently learned that he passed away in 2008, and all the sweet memories of this lovely man came back to me. If I had half his kindness, his inner peace, his empathy--I would be a finer person.
That day we sat together silently occurred exactly 40 years ago today. Happy birthday Sara.