Uncle BB and Family

his is a picture of me, my little brother, and Grandma. That's me, the tall, handsome dude on the right. The picture was taken when I was only 11 and didn't know anything. Now I'm 13 and much more worldly. Last year I went all the way to St George, Utah.

My name is Tyler, and my little brother is called Eric. We live in a sleepy, little town in central Kentucky called Hodgenville. In case you've never heard of it, it's the birthplace of two famous people: Abraham Lincoln, and my Uncle, Big Buffalo. I call him Uncle BB, for short. When I growup I want to be just like Uncle BB. He even knows movie stars.

I have another picture of me and Eric but I didn't want to show it cause it doesn't make me look too manly. But it's my Mom's favorite - and you know the way women are.

This is Uncle BB's web page but he said I could talk about the family as long as I didn't say anthing bad about Uncle Gary. He one of my other uncles. He doesn't like to have his picture shown. I think it's because he's overweight, even though he won't admit it.

My Grandma is 76 and has a bad leg, but I love her just the same. Grandma cannot hear very well.She said the hole in her ear was growing shut. I think she was referring to her inner ear canal. She has a hearing aid but doesn't wear it all the time - only when there's company. I picked the pretty pink flowers you see us holding. They are from the back of Grandma's house. There are many others that I don't know the names of, but these are the ones Grandma is proudest of. I think they are called PHIL-UH-DENDRUMS, or something like that.

When I was little, Uncle BB used to tell me and my brother Eric stories. I would always run home and tell my Mom about them, but she would always say, "Don't believe everything your Uncle tells you". That bothered me because I know Uncle BB would never tell me anything that wasn't true. But as I got older, it seemed the stories got bigger. This last one has got to be the whopper of them all.

It began one afternoon when I asked him how he got the name of Big Buffalo. He said...

 It goes back a long, long time, before you boys were even born.

Uncle BB then settled back into his favorite chair, with Eric and me sitting at his feet, and began telling this unbelievable story...

It was in 77 before you little fellows were even thought of that your Mom and Uncles had planned a vacation to Disney World. I was flying down from Chicago with Uncle Haroldand his boys and staying overnight at Grandma's. The following day, after picking up Uncle Gary and your Mom - all of us were flying on down to Florida. But a strange thing happened that night at Grandma's. Early in the morning I had a horrible nightmare. When I woke up, my nose was bleeding and I was shaking. The blood was pouring from my nose and I wouldn't get it to stop. After giving up on using ice packs, cotton balls, and several other of Grandma's home remedies I was rushed to the local hospital where they finally stopped the bleeding by spraying cocaine up my nose and packing it with gauze. The cocaine caused the blood vessels to constrict enough to stop the bleeding. We left for Florida the next day, just as we had planned. I wasn't going to let a little thing like losing a pint or two of blood spoil my vacation.

Since that horrible night and every year afterwards, always on Jun 25th, I have had recurring nightmares. The nightmares are always the same", Uncle BB said. "In my dream,I see myself and my brother trapped and surrounded on a lonely hill with many other solders. We are fighting someone but I couldn't tell who because of the smoke, dust,and gunfire that is going on. My comrades and I are pinned down on every side. There is no escape.

As I'm trying to figure out how to what to do next, I felt the sting of a bullet above my left eye and I can feel my heart begin to flutter. I know my life is slipping away. Just before I close my eyes, I see a man with the head of a buffalo coming toward me. He reaches me and is standing over me, just standing there looking down at me. My last thought was, 'is this the angel of death?'

I always wake up at this point with my heart beating wildly. For 16 years, the nightmares continued to occur. It is always the same, with me and my brother dying in battle and the buffalo man standing over us. Some years later, as June 25th approached, I would try and stay up all night . I thought if I could stay up for 24 hours then, maybe, just maybe, I could skip the nightmare for that year. But it didn't work. As hard as I tried to stay awake some overpowering force would see to it that I fell aleep. Eventually, I linked the nightmares to the date. There was something about June 25th. Why was it always on this date? Something bad must have happened on that day. Something that is tied to me. Maybe a curse of some sort, I thought.

I went through the family history as far as I could but the family tree sort of withered and died out around 1842. That was the year your great, great, great Grandfather was born. He was called Willie Green Warren. He had a son called A.B. Warren which was my Grandfather.

I had given up on ever solving the mystery of the June 25th nightmares, when by chance my wife, Uncle Gary and I we were in Montana sight-seeing and happen to drive up to the site where the Battle of Little Big Horn took place. We were listening to the park ranger tell the story of this historial battle when he mentioned it happened on June 25th, 1876. When I heard that date, something exploded in my mind. I began to see flashbacks of those horrible nightmares that I'd had for the past 16 years.

As the ranger told the story of General George Armstrong Custer and the number of solders that had died on that fateful day, I turned and saw the hill that I'd seen so many times in my dream. I knew that I had been here on that day, 120 years ago. As I listened to the ranger's story of the battle and the dedication of the monument that was erected in memory of these brave solders, I couldn't wait to get up there and start checking names on the monument. If I could only find the family name it would help to explain the torment I had been going through all these years.

The ranger finally concluded his narrative of the battle of Little Big Horn and told us we were free to walk over the battlefield grounds if we wanted to. No sooner were the words out of his mouth then I was halfway up the hill headed for the monument while my wife and Uncle Gary leisurely saundered behind. I didn't really expect to find any Warrens on the monument, but I had a strange feeling as I walked up the hill toward the monument. I was the first one to reach the top of the hill. As I got closer toward The monument, I noticed it was composed of two huge stones, with one sitting on top of the other. From the distance it resembled a pyramid. However, standing next to it I saw it had 4 sides. Each of the 4 sides had two columns of names chiseled into the stone. The names didn't appear to be in any order, so I had to check every single one.

 As my eyes traveled down through the list of names on the first side of the monument, my hopes began to diminish for I didn't find any Warrens. I move around to the next face and repeated the search for the family name. Still no Warrens. I felt foolish. I was ready to stop right there and leave. Who would ever believe I was looking for the source of my nightmares on a desolute hilltop in Montana where the most famous Indian battle of all times took place.

I started down the third face of the monument, expecting it to be the same as the 1st two. I was near the bottom when I saw it - GEO WARREN. I must have starred at the name for 10 minutes without moving. A million thoughts were rushing through my mind - Was this a relative? ; was he the one who had been entering my dreams every June 25th? And what am I suppose to do now? I started to leave but remembered I still had the 4th side of the monument to check. I thought, well, since I've come this far I might as well check the final side. I had just started a quick search at the top of the last face when 9 names down - I don't believe it- there was another Warren. The name was A. B. Warren , the same as my own Grandfather who died in 1932.".

I yelled out to Uncle Gary who was coming up the hill with my wife. "Hey Gary, you got to see this, there are two Warrens on this monument." Uncle Gary yelled back, "those must have been the two dumb ones in the family." He was referring to General Custer order, that fateful morning, of sending 140 solders to attack 5,000 Siouxs which were camped along the Little Big Horn river. We had learned this fact by listening to the park ranger's narrative of the battle a little earlier.

As I was waiting for Uncle Gary and my wife, Penny, to make their way up the hill, I accidently brushed against the base of the monument and a flood of thoughts popped into my mind. The thoughts appeared to have originated from the monument. The moment I moved away from the stone, the thoughts stopped. Like a kid playing with fire, I would quickly touch the stone then jerk my hand back. The thoughts would, likewise, start and stop. Then it struck me - someone or something is trying to communicate with me.

 It is hard to explain what happened next, but as I placed my hand on the name of Warren, some mysterious form of telepathy began to take place. I was able to communicate with the two Warrens - A.B. and George. I could sense they knew everything about me. What I didn't know was what they wanted with me. At this point I had an urge to run as fast as I could - to get as far away from this place. But I didn't. I had to find out if George and A.B. had anything to do with the nightmares, and if so, what did they want with me? Though, no words were spoken I could understand their every thoughts, and likewise, they mine. For the brief time ours thoughts were joined, I finally understood what they wanted, and why.

 A.B. and George Warren were brothers. They were you boys's great, great, great, great Grandfather and Uncle. They both had joined the Army when the Civil War had broken out. A.B. was 34 when he joined and George was only 18. After the Civil War A.B. went back to the farm in Kentucky while his younger brother stayed in the Army. Brother George, in 1874, was transferred to the 7th Cavalry. A.B. was having a hard time making a go with farming and, somehow, rejoined his brother in the 7th Cavalry in 1875, a year before the Battle of Little Big Horn. A.B. was the oldest solder with the 7th. He was 49 at the time.

A.B. had two children, a son and a daughter. The son was called little Willie Green. Willie was 17 when the Civil War started. When his Dad went off to war, Willie wanted to go too but A.B. told him he had to stay home and take care of his mother and sister. The little girl was a year younger than Little Willie and very pretty. In my telepathy with A.B., he mentioned that our niece Alena was nearly identical, both in looks and temperment, to his own daughter. Her name was Rebecca A. Willie later married and had 6 children of his own, with one of his sons named after his father. He was called A.B. also. Rebecca was captured by the Indians when she was 18 and never hear from by the family again. There were stories about a white woman living among the Sioux that had twin daughters but no one had ever seen them except, maybe a black man the Indians called Azinpi. Azinpi, whose real name was Isaiah Dorman, had been a friend of the Indians for the past 25 years but was killed at the Battle of Little Big Horn because he was riding with the 7th Cavalry. General Custer had hired him as an Indian interpreter. Of all the atrocities committed by the Indians that day, none were greater than those performed on poor Isaiah. - probably because he was a former friend of the Indians. A.B. said his great,great,great Grandson Bill is alive today.

Then A.B. starts putting the following thoughts in my mind - A.B. says... I was taught that when a person dies his soul returns to God, to be judged where it will spend eternity. When George and I died here on this hill so long ago, we thought our eternity would be spent with our loved ones. After all, we were doing a noble deed by helping get rid of those bloody savages. And it was sanctioned by the US Government. But when we were judged for our deeds we were found guilty for sins against our brothers. Those bloody savages were considered human beings just like George and myself. The judgement for us was that our souls would be denied joining our ancestors but instead would be banished to this desolute hilltop for all eternity. That is, unless we can find a descendent willing to help redeem the awful sin we have committed.

A.B. said he that the judgement put on his and brother George's souls would be lifted if they were with a virtuous relative when the relative died. I wasn't quite sure what A.B. was talking about. It sounded like they were going to kill me so they could go to heaven, but then that wouldn't be very virtuous, would it? I asked if they were sure it was me they wanted. I was about to recommend Uncle Gary when A.B. said there was no mistake, it was me. A.B. went on to explain that in their spiritual form, the only channel they had for contact was throught dreams. He mentioned that he and brother George had been trying to make contact with certain members of the family for over 120 years. I thought to myself, I wonder how much time they wasted on Uncle Jake. He was one of my more non-virtuous Uncles. He had racked up a lot of sins against mankind. I know he's out there somewhere in the same pickle as A.B. and Uncle George.

I then asked A.B. how this hosting of souls would affect me. I wanted to know if they would be taking over my body - like one day I'd be me and the next day I'd be A.B. or Uncle George. My wife, sometimes when she's angry, has said I'm impossible to live with. What if she had to live with the three of us? A.B. said it would be nothing like that. He said I would never know they were there. I then asked another 'what if' situation. I asked what happens if on my day of judgement I'm found to be without any redeeming qualities? A.B. said he wasn't worried about it cause him and George didn't have anything to lose anyway. He said they'd just have a little more company on the hill.

After I had agreed to let them hitch a ride on me, A.B. then asked if I could take in another soul. He said there was an old Indian on the hill with them. He had been there for 5,000 years and had no living descendents. He was the Buffalo man in my dreams. I said, sure - what's one more soul. Bring the old guy onboard. By the way, I asked. What did he do to get himself here? A.B. said he was a chief and medicine man that had made up some type of concoction to ward off an illiness that was going throught his village, and he had poisoned everyone - wiped out the entire tribe. A.B. then asked to be excused for a moment. He wanted to tell the old Chief he could get ready to pack his bags. They had found a virtuous man.

A.B. came back and said the old Chief wanted to talk to me. I asked if he spoke English? A.B. said that he didn't think so, but that I'd understand him. The old fellow began dancing around and went into some type of trance. Obviously, he was very happy to be leaving the hilltop after 5,000 years. After he finished his dance, he then bestowed on me the greatest honor ever bestowed on a white man. I would be known from this day forward as BIG BUFFALO, a holy man to the Indians. I accepted the name with great humility and have only allowed a few of my trusted relatives to call me by it. So there it is, now you boys know how your old Uncle became known as the great, sacred warrior "Big Buffalo."

You know, I asked that same question myself. But it was the old Chief who would take care of the process. He would go into the sacred soul transfer ceremony and at the right time say the sacred words, point a sacred feather at me and the three of them would be instantly transported inside me. I asked the old Chief if it would hurt. He said, "you no feel nothing", but he mentioned that after the process was over there would be a small brown spot in the center of my chest. He said, "when see spot then OK."

The nightmares are gone now. I haven't had a single one since I took in the 3 boarders in 1992. They don't brother me but I know they're there. A.B. and George are sleeping peacefully, but sometimes, I can feel the old Chief stirring about.

yep, but promise me you don't tell your Mother.

 - Tyler
 

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