When I was a small child, my father Austin Bacon (really, he was only called "Aut." I don't know how to spell that nickname. You should have seen the name spellings on his mail!) sometimes told us about the American Indian population that lived around Easton, Wis-consin when he was a young child. I think there were quite a few Indians in his community.

I don't remember my father ever saying anything about relations being hostile between the settlers and the Indians, but because of their so different backgrounds, and human nature being what it is, that is, always being fearful of what it doesn't understand, my father said his mother was nervous because a nearby Indian man came around when his father, William Henry Bacon, was away, which was quite often, because Grandpa Bacon farmed some, but was also a carpenter, and with transportation being what it was he could be gone for an extended time from his home.

One day when Grandfather was at home this Indian man came by and my Dad said his father invited him into the house, and being a small child, wondered why he insisted the visitor sit in a carefully placed chair in a corner of the room while telling him he'd like to show him a white man's dance. Now my father knew his father had a fine talent for dancing and saw him begin the intricate steps of a jig.

[Just for a minute, allow me to leave my story so I can put in a needed explanation: Seems now we tend to believe that the old time dancing consisted of stomping and jumping, even what I saw years later on the dance floor, (yes, all the kids went to and were taught these dances), and the dances of this era were filled with grace and art. The schottische and polkas were almost like a ballet, the square dances carefully executed and supervised, and the waltzes were a smoothly swirling scene of beauty, and the two-step the fun one. Of course not everyone was a beautiful dancer but believe me it was an art form everyone aimed at.]

Back to the story...

So, Dad expected his father to demonstrate the intricate steps and the smooth execution of a true jig performer who would do these steps with the feet only rising a few inches from the floor. So when my Dad saw his father leaping higher and higher slapping his feet down with increasing vigor he surely was surprised, to say the least. Dad was not aware there was a piece of loosening sand plaster above the Indian man, but there was, and Grandfather knew it, and with the furious stomping pace of the jigging down it came! The poor man knew little about the white man's house structuring, and thinking there was something demonic after him, the Indian departed in tremendous haste, and came around no more to make Grandma feel afraid.

The white settlers felt the American Indian was superstitious, perhaps because of his different religion. Just think about how the red man must have viewed these intruding white people now among them with their religious and cultural practices. One can hardly imagine two more diverse cultures living so close to each other. As my father now and again told about these differences and related stories, I unconsciously became aware there was no lack of respect for the Indian intellect and ingenuity, and I knew he had learned many things from them. Since he was a self-trained veterinarian, he learned much about herbal medicine from them. He learned to recognize the medicinal herbs growing in the area, when to harvest them, and how to use them in his practice. He also learned about herbal medicine that he used for our family, so both the family and the animals were benefitted.