Hello Tribal Tilixam~

Michael S. Cherry nayka nim. I am the daughter of Candy Robertson, Grand Ronde tribal elder, the late Jesse Robertson, Oglala Sioux. Grand-daughter of Lena Bobb Norwest, sister of Clara and Faye Riggs.

Great-grand daughter of Alberta Riggs-Norwest and the Great-great granddaughter of Chief Solomon Riggs and Jenny George.

I am a wife, mother, grandmother, sister, auntie, daughter and friend.

Born and raised in Oregon and a proud member of the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde, descendant of Rogue River and Umpqua bands.

I am happily married with 5 children, two grandsons & a granddaughter residing in Salem, Oregon.

This page serves as a place to learn about me and my story growing up in Grand Ronde. I encourage you to learn more on my vision page where you can read more about the priority areas of focus and actionable items I want to work towards.

I have fond memories of growing up in Grand Ronde with my siblings, close cousins that were like siblings, fellow tribal members and community members. There were days mom would make her rounds in the area visiting tribal elders, Auntie Vern, Clara, Dottie and Eula, are the ones I remember the most. The majority of them spoke Chinuk wawa and our mom taught us early on to be respectful, you never spoke when an elder was speaking and sometimes that could feel like an all-day event! I recognize many of those values instilled in me as a child that have shaped my personality now, one of course is respecting our elders but in a broader context, my ability to sit still for long periods of time stemmed from those days of visiting with elders (and being very quiet). I think of it fondly now and realize what a treasured gift it truly was. We were also taught early on with the “hands-on” experience of being of service. Growing up without a lot of resources (being poor) but rich in community, I loved General Council Sundays. Now those were the biggest potluck feasts even a Thanksgiving day meal couldn’t hold a candle to. But first, the meeting was held, the younger ones waited on the elders, serving coffee and you didn’t dare pick at the food even though the wait was tortuous. Following the shared meal, youth would collect all the plates and cups from attendees and wash dishes for what seemed like an eternity. I was so small that I had a step stool to reach the sink. I recall days looking out that window in the kitchen at St. Michael’s church where meetings were held and there were occasions where kids my age that came from out of town would be playing on the swings and I would feel so sorry for myself, how unfair it seemed. I thank my mom for that now. Looking back, she was also a woman of few words (meaning she didn’t have to explain herself) and really didn’t make a fuss. She reminds me of the mom in the Family Circus comic who would often watch her kids have meltdowns around her yet maintained her composure and calm demeanor. My mom is one of the most compassionate people I know, I honestly don’t believe she would harm a fly. Following the kitchen-duty marathon, the best part was yet to come: Softball. If you grew up in Grand Ronde, you loved softball, that’s what we did as a community to gather and pass the time. Back then there was a softball field close to the road at the cemetery with dugouts and everything. Play pens with babies, chairs for elders and men tailgating while forming their teams was the norm. The men could get loud and obnoxious yelling obscenities at each other and we all loved every minute of it, that’s just the way it was.

I also have fond memories of fishing, hiking up to the face of Spirit Mountain where my dads parents lived, picking moss and strawberries as a family and holding many-a-bake sales for tribal endeavors, I guess the saying is true as you get older….”those were the good ole’ days”.

Where Am I From
A poem by Michael Cherry
 
I am from a small tribal community in the Willamette Valley
From a mountain with a bald-face
I am from pow wows and potlucks 
And growing up in the 80’s “like, totally”
I am from burnt Sage
Whose sweet aroma carries my prayers 
I am from picking moss from tree bark and chasing butterfly’s
I am from the Rogue River and the Umpqua Valley
From the Riggs and the Norwest’s
From storytelling and believing coffee would stunt my growth
I am from Indian tacos and goulash 
And from endless summer softball games that brought a community together 
I am from five hour “short cuts” over hilltops and being a tomboy until a brother is born
I am from all those moments I hold sacred.