Do you remember when Hilliary Clinto said it takes a village to raise a child?  I’d like to add to that.  It takes a village to survive these financially challenging times.  I was working with clients of mine and although the coaching I am doing with them is not specifically about finances it came around to that because of their own financial challenges right now.  This couple is smart, educated, exceptionally talented but because in part to the downturn in the economy are really struggling with just the basics of survival.  And they are not alone.  It seems everyone I speak with is in the same boat.  Yet we don’t seem to be reaching out and helping our neighbors very much.  It’s too much “its all about me” and if I give to you I won’t have enough mentality.  We must all pull together!

We are in the process of putting together our 1920’s themed murder mystery event and while doing research on that era I came across something very interesting.  A way in which neighbors and friends came together to help a friend in need.  It was called a Rent Party.

What is a rent party?

Inspired by Harlem, NY rent parties of the 1920s and 30s. Families invited friends into their apartments for jazz by local musicians, poetry reading, dancing, and a menu of soul food. In a spirited demonstration of community and willingness to help a neighbor in need, a hat was passed so guests could drop in money to help pay the rent!

My clients/friends are having difficulties with paying a huge gas bill.  Those of us that live in the north east know that it doesn’t take long to amass a huge gas bill.  So I am pondering the idea of a Rent Party for their gas bill.  It won’t pay the entire bill but it might help to keep the gas on long enough to work something out with the gas company, which at this point in the process, not willing to assist them.

So I think I am going to present this idea to them and see if they are game.   Hopefully pride won’t get in the way.

Haunted House

Friday night armed with crystals, sage and on the wings of angels Devlan and I drove to Vinco to see what I would feel at Marisa’s house. Devlan took a lot of photographs (probably 100 or more) and of those about 25 had orbs in them. I had a powerful feeling of a presence upstairs – so much so that at times I felt like I might pass out – the dizziness I felt was very strong.

What I left there feeling was that there is a possiability that her house could be a portal for spirits and a definate belief that she has the ability to chanel spirits and that is why she was drawn to this house and why things keep happening. I also believe there is one spirit that is attached specifically to her. I gave her some instructions and smudged the house and left her some sage and crystals. We will continue to be in touch to determine if there is more that I might be able to do. For now – we know its haunted – there is no doubt about that. I will post some orb pictures later this week.

Back in November I was contacted by a woman who said she was afraid her house was haunted.  We emailed back and forth and nothing more came of it until yesterday when she emailed me again that strange things were once again happening in the home.

After speaking with her tonight it became clear that she has something going on in the house.  Therefore Devlan and I will do a house blessing with sage, holy water, candles, crystals and prayers and hopefully move this spirit to the other side this coming Friday.

Welcoming in 2011

Here we are in the  first week of January of the new year, 2011, and the view from here is excellent.  2010 had more ups than it did downs, including moving into my office space in June in downtown Johnstown.  It was a very busy year for me and I am looking forward to 2011 knowing that it will be even more exciting and busy.

I found love in the arms of my friend Devlan in November 2010 and as we begin to expand our relationship and build a life together he has taken an active roll in how New Life Transformations moves forward in the upcoming year.  We have begun looking at larger spaces for the business.  Through a client of mine we located an old victorian home in downtown Johnstown and we are currently in the process of putting that together for spring.  It will mean renting out my house and moving into the victorian.  Emily (our  friend) and Devlan will move in with me.  This house has an excess of 3000 sq feet with three floors and enough room to expand and grow the original dream of New Life Transformations which is Co-Op with other healers, readers, artists, and like minded individuals. 

Devlan brings to NLT astrology readings, dream interuptations, martial arts training, meditation and breathing techniques, and so much more to me personally.

We have so many plans for the future but I will list a few of the things that are in the works.

Martin Luther King Dinner and a movie – Jan 16th – movie is Citizen King (a documentary about the last five years of his life) and dinner is pot luck and the event is open to the public just bring a dish!

Chinese New Year Dinner and a movie – Feb 4th – enjoy Chinese New Year (the year of the Rabbit) with friends.

Spirit Faire 2011 will be our Grand Opening event on March 19 & 20th.  If you would be interested in being a vendor please email me (nancy@newlifetransformations.org) for information on a spot.   Attendance is $5.00 per person which will include workshops and lectures in most cases.

In March we will also have open meditation from 7:00am to 9:00am  and 5:00pm to 7:00pm open to the public for a peaceful place to start or end your day Monday through Friday.  Fee is a donation from the heart and hot beverages will be offered for a nominal fee.

These are just a few of the ideas we are putting together and working towards.

I hope your New Year is full of delight and love!

Charlie, the Comanche


Charles Chibitty, 23, a Comanche Indian code talker with the 4th Infantry Division at Utah Beach

There had been 17 of us Comanches chosen to go to Europe. I had been at an Indian high school in Lawrence, Ks., when I heard that the Army was recruiting Comanches for the Signal Corps. I told my daddy and he said, “Go ahead, it might do you good.” I joined up in Oklahoma City and got sent down to Fort Benning in Georgia for the training. It was January of 1941.

The U.S. Army had wanted us Comanches along because the Germans would be listening to our communications. Morse code is probably the easiest way to send a message while you’re in battle, but the Germans could break it. Hell, they were smart — they could decode anything. But they couldn’t break Comanche! That’s why they had us.

In the ’40s, no one had really heard Comanche, and nobody had written it down. When I was a kid in the Indian school in Kansas, they would try to forbid us from talking Comanche. If we talked Indian, we got punished. We’d have to get the mop and polish the floors. When we got away from everyone, my cousin and I would talk Indian anyway and if we saw someone coming, we’d hush up. But then it got out that the Army was looking for Indians — and then all of a sudden, the government wanted us to speak it.

My job was to be a code talker, to get to the frontlines and report back to the command post what kind of artillery was coming in on us. I would speak Comanche over a radio or a telephone to another Indian and he’d translate the message to Army commanders on the other side. Other code talkers at other regiments would report to headquarters what they saw. Back at the base they would put it all together and they’d get an idea what was going on and where they would need to send reinforcements.

In 1944, my division got sent to Europe. We had been stationed in Stokenham, in the southwestern part of England and we knew that we’d get sent to the front at some point — we just didn’t know exactly when. One night, our commanders didn’t allow us out to chase women and drink beer and we knew we were going.

Fourteen Comanches were sent into battle with the 4th Infantry Division, which had three fighting regiments, each had two Indians. I was in the 22nd Regiment, along with Willie Yackeschi. The rest of the Indians in the Army Signal Corps were assigned to other divisions and three stayed back at headquarters so that they could receive our messages and translate them into English.

When we hit Utah Beach, we had some troubles and caught fire. The first message I sent back to base in Comanche was: “We are not in a designated area. We are nearly five miles to the right. The fighting is getting fierce. We need help.” I will never forget that. It was from D-day until the end of the war that Comanche was spoken in Europe — and the Germans never understood a word we said.

We landed on the coast and everyone was shooting at us. One of my good buddies from New Jersey got killed right off. Me and him had drank a lot together and Private Mullins was his name. That bothered me quite a bit.

I didn’t get hit though. You could just hear this whistle when the bullets came and any time I heard it, I would hit the ground like a prairie dog. I wasn’t made to fight, we were just made to lay line and talk Indian, but I had to use my gun. When it’s a war, it’s a different feeling you got. It’s like it’s going to be you or them — and you just want it to be them.

Utah Beach was flat and we went straight on in and we immediately started laying telephone lines, so that we could connect one regiment with another. It was a field telephone, a battery operated plastic unit with a handle on the side. If you wanted to call, you had to wind it up.

We laid about four or five miles of wire, putting the line over the trees to keep it out of the road. This way, the tanks wouldn’t rip it out — which they did anyway. We’d then have to repair it if it broke. We laid the wire through regiment after regiment, connecting each company to the one in front — that way everyone could talk. All of it was connected to division headquarters, which had a big switchboard.

During the war, we had to keep in constant contact with the other Indians so we could figure out what was going on. In Comanche, there were no words for “tanks” and “bombers,” so we had had to come up with words.

When we were in our training in Georgia, all the Comanches sat in a big circle and agreed on what Indian words we would use. A tank became a “turtle” because it has a hard shell. A machine gun was a “sewing machine” because it sounded like my momma’s sewing machine. Bombers were “pregnant airplanes.” Hitler was “posah-tai-vo” — that’s “Crazy White Man.”

The infantry outfit leader would tell me, “We need help.” So I’d make a call and say something like, “A turtle is coming down the hedgerow. Get the stovepipe and shoot him!” That’s, “A tank is coming down the hedgerow, get the bazooka and shoot him!” We had to give very specific instructions or we’d be receiving fire ourselves.

If we had to name our location, then we could spell out a word using other words. If the first letter in our location was ‘A’, then I would say “araka,” which means alligator, and so on.

It all worked pretty good, but it was crazy, talking Comanche one minute and English the next and there are bullets flying and you’re trying to make yourself heard. We did a good job, though. All of the Comanche code talkers came home after the war. None of them died — though two got injured. My cousin, Larry Saupitty, got shot up pretty bad once. But they shipped him to England for treatment. Willie, in my regiment, got hit with shrapnel as well. It looked like someone had dragged a razor blade across his back. I was okay, but I saw a lot of people get killed. When a soldier died, some of the Indians would get together and sing Comanche hymns over the body.

All of those Indians are gone now. I’m the only Comanche code talker— the last one living. I like to remind people what we did so many years ago. I always name the other Indians: my cousin Larry, Willie in the 22nd, and there was Morris Sunrise, Perry Noyobad, Haddon Codynah, Robert Holder, Clifford Ototivo, Forrest Kassanavoid, Roderick Red Elk, Simmons Parker, Melvin Permansu, Wellington Mihecoby and Elgin Red Elk.

The French government gave us the second highest award they can give to someone outside of France. That was in ’89. But our own government didn’t acknowledge what we did for so long. The Pentagon recognized the Comanches in 1999, but by then I was the only one left. Why did it take so long to honor the Comanches for what we did? It beats the heck out of me.

But I know that the Comanche people were proud of what we did and my family was proud, too. When I go talking in schools now about the code talker things I did, I try to let them know that we saved thousands of lives just by using our own language. —Interview by Carolina A. Miranda/New York

By Joe Holley
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Charles Chibitty, 83, the last of the Comanche code talkers who used their native tongue to confound Hitler’s forces during World War II, died July 20 of complications of diabetes at St. Francis Hospital in Tulsa. He had been living at a Tulsa nursing home.Mr. Chibitty, whose name means “holding on good” in Comanche, also was the last surviving hereditary chief of the tribe, the Comanche Nation reported. He was descended on his mother’s side from Chief Ten Bears, known as one of the signers of the Medicine Lodge Treaty of 1867.

He was one of 17 Comanches from the Lawton, Okla., area who were selected in 1941 for special Army duty to provide the Allies with a language the Germans could not decipher. He served with the Army’s 4th Infantry Division, 4th Signal Company.

The Comanche recruits created their code at Fort Benning, Ga., in 1941. “We compiled a 100-word vocabulary of military terms during training,” Mr. Chibitty said in a 1999 interview with the Armed Forces Information Service. “The Navajo did the same thing. The Navajos became code talkers about a year after the Comanches, but there were over a hundred of them, because they had so much territory [in the Pacific Theater] to cover.”

 Mr. Chibitty landed at Utah Beach, one of 14 Comanches who hit the beaches of Normandy with Allied troops on D-Day. In presentations over the years, he recalled the first coded message he transmitted that day: “Five miles to the right of the designated area and five miles inland the fighting is fierce and we need help.”

 Because there was no Comanche word for “tank,” the code talkers used their word for “turtle.” “Bomber” became “pregnant airplane.” “Hitler,” Mr. Chibitty recalled, was “posah-tai-vo,” or “crazy white man.”

Two Comanches were assigned to each of the 4th Infantry Division’s three regiments. They sent coded messages from the front line to division headquarters, where other Comanches decoded the messages. Some of the Comanches were wounded, but all survived the war. Their code was never broken.

“It’s strange, but growing up as a child I was forbidden to speak my native language at school,” Mr. Chibitty said in 2002. “Later my country asked me to. My language helped win the war, and that makes me very proud. Very proud.”

 Charles Joyce Chibitty was born in a tent near Medicine Park, Okla., a small community in the Wichita Mountains north of Lawton. Attending Haskell Indian School in Lawrence, Kan., he heard rumors not only of war but also of plans the military had to organize a native-speaking unit. He went home on Christmas break in 1940 and received his mother’s permission to enlist.

The Army wanted 40 native speakers and managed to get 20. Three were sent home because they had dependents. Mr. Chibitty was one of the remaining 17 dispatched to Fort Benning and then to signal school at Fort Gordon, Ga.

As a radio man with the 4th Infantry Division, Mr. Chibitty took part in some of the fiercest fighting of the war, including the breakthrough at St. Lo, Hurtgen Forest, the Battle of the Bulge and the rescue of the “lost battalion.” The division was the first American unit to participate in the liberation of Paris and the first infantry division to enter Germany.

Mr. Chibitty earned five campaign battle stars. In 1989, the French government honored the Comanche code talkers, including Mr. Chibitty, by presenting them with the Chevalier of the National Order of Merit.

In 1999, he received the Knowlton Award, which recognizes individuals for outstanding intelligence work, during a ceremony at the Pentagon’s Hall of Heroes.

In addition to his work as a code talker, Mr. Chibitty was a champion boxer in the Army. He had learned to fight at Haskell Indian School.

After his discharge, he lived in Oklahoma, primarily in Tulsa, and worked as a glazier. He also gained fame as a champion fancy war dancer and was invited by many tribes to dance at their powwows.

“He was very good at that,” said Lanny Asepermy, a retired Army sergeant major who serves as head of the Comanche Indian Veterans Association. “It’s very physically demanding, but Charles was like a butterfly floating.”

 His wife, Elaine Chibitty, died in 1994. He also was preceded in death by a son and a daughter.  Survivors include three grandchildren.


I have been in contact with Charlie’s neice Cheryl Davis in regards to my recent experiences with Charlie and she has been very open and receptive to the conclusion that he is the one who has informed me that he is my guide.   I have plans to spend some time with Cyndy Paige (Snakedancer) doing some journey work and Bear medicine towards the end of the month in March to see what additional messages Charlie, the Comanche and White Feather may have for me.  I will continue the Blog to record this information.

In the last few days I have come to believe that I will end up writing an article about this, which may also turn into a book depending on how this all plays out. 

In the spirit of Charlie and White Feather, I wish you peace.

On 2-20-10 I went to Pittsburgh for my 2nd degree reiki certification.  It was to be a weekend event with class on Saturday afternoon 3-6pm and then all day Sunday from 9am to 6pm.  My friend and fellow student, Susan, offered me her guest room so I wouldn’t have to drive back and forth both days.

When I got to Susan’s our plan was to visit her friend Bob’s stone shop in Shadyside before our class.  I was very interested in seeing his shop because Susan has so many amazing stones from him, many that she wire wraps into beautiful pieces of wearable art….that my friends will be another blog at a later date.

Bob’s shop was indeed everything she had said it was.  It was almost overwheming to experience all these beautiful stones and crystals.  One that I was drawn to was a hand carved light green turqouis fetish bear.  It is a beautiful piece.  The bear is laying down and on his back is an insert with a red snake and a half moon.  Once I held it I knew it was mine.  I also purchased several other stones and left with a much “lighter” wallet.

I decided that since Grandmother Bear had been my vision and messenger in the last attunement, I would carry this bear in my pocket throughout Reiki II and the attunement.  So bear attended throughout Saturday’s sacred symbol lesson.  In fact he stayed with me right up until I retired for the evening in Susan’s guest room.

I have stayed at Susan’s once before and had message dreams but I wasn’t expecting anything especially profound to happen on Saturday night and was in fact a bit tired.  I sat the bear on the nightstand and quickly went to sleep.  I slept well and I dreamt of people I knew and then someone who I didn’t know at all.   In the morning, the first thing to pop into my head was the strangers name, Charlie, the Comanche.  That is exactly how he introduced himself to me in dreamland.  He was quite proud and said his name with force and always exactly as Charlie, the Comanche. 

When I came out of the bedroom, Susan was already up and inquired as to my rest and wondered if I had any special dreams.  I laughed and told her about Charlie and made the off hand remark that it seemed he could have chosen a more dignified name than Charlie.  We giggled over it but I continued to hear Charlie’s voice in my head – repeating his name as though I should not forget it.

Off to class we go.  Susan and I are the first to arrive.  Our instructor, Bonnie asks how our night was, etc.  Susan and I look at each other and giggle and I tell her the Charlie story.  She immediately scolds me and reminds me that this was a vision and I should be proud to get these visions.  I had to agree with her and from that point on tried to not make any distinction with his name.  Honestly, I think it was more a nervous reaction than anything.  I always try to act cool, like oh yeah I get visitations all the time, but not ones like this!  I knew Charlie had to do with MY spiritual journey and it was a little nerve racking.

Bear is in my pocket again and I even try to blow this off as maybe it was the energy of the bear since Bob had gotten it in the Southwest.  But that was to be proven wrong later in the day.

Class proceeded and my brain was so clouded with Charlie that honestly it was a miracle I was able to get through the test of drawing all three sacred symbols and their names.  Somehow I got through it and shortly thereafter we were to prepare for our 2nd attunement.

Bonnie, our instructor, teachs and operates from a Native American shamanic process.  Attunements will involve the drums, rattles and even a flute.  I believe it is the reason my higher spirit chose her as a teacher.   The attunement begins and the first things I see in my minds eye are the sacred symbols and I smiled thinking – you could have given that to me during the test when I had to draw them…..yes never happy comes to my mind as I write this too. 

Yet, after that begins the colors.  I always like this part, even just during meditation I will often see colors and they are beautiful – rather like the northern lights but more extreme.  Then through the colors Charlie, the Comanche comes again and with him is a white feather.  He moves slowly out of my line of vision and my eye then begins to focus on the beautiful white feather he has brought to me.

He tells me that he is my guide.  He has been for many, many lives on this physical plane as well as spiritual.  He tells me that I have been a healer many, many lifetimes.  It is something my soul was designed to do and I have always been drawn to some form of healing in each life.  Then he tells me I am known to him as White Feather and that was my name in another lifetime.  I am White Feather, healer.

He tells me that he is always with me but till now I wasn’t ready for him to be revealed.  I had to walk this path and get to this exact point in time before he could show himself to me.  I should not be afraid but embrace the life path I have chosen for myself in this life as a healer again.  He reminds me of all the times in life I have “healed” a sick child, a family member, a friend or lent an ear and a hug to those who might need it.  He reminds me that when I was a young girl in this life I had considered becoming a nurse but decided against it due to my soft heart.  I knew I would have a hard time losing people.  He tells me now I am ready though to heal the hearts and souls of those I come in contact with.

We ended the attunement and I bid farewell to Charlie, the Comanche for the time being and re-entered this world again.  I shared some of this with our class but reserved my past name for just a few.  I am sharing this now with you because I think its important.  That there is a path he and Grandmother Bear are leading me towards and I want to record it and share it.

I got home Sunday night from Susan’s about 9:30pm and although I was very tired I decided to open the laptop and see what I could find on Charlie, the Comanche.  I began the search with just comanches but it was long and I wasn’t seeing anything that clicked.  Then out of the blue I decided to just goggle Charlie, the Comanche.

This is what I found: 

CHARLES J. CHIBITTY served with the US Army from January 1, 1941 to July 3, 1945 earning the rank of T/5. He was a member of the Comanche Code Talkers. T/5 Chibitty was from the Mount Scott-Porter Hill area and a Golden Gloves boxer and fancy war dancer. He was the last surviving Code Talker when he passed away on July 20, 2005 at the age of eighty-three.

Suddenly I had goose bumps on top of goose bumps.  I can’t tell you with exact certainity that this is the same Charlie, the Comache as in my vision but I believe in my heart it is.  I will not post his photograph out of respect to his adopted daughter, who I have sent an email to.  Once I hear from her and get some kind of verification, then I might.

Charlie, the Comanche was soft spoken yet firm in his words to me.  He looked like the pictures I found of him but he was younger and had a painted red face.

Up until today I had not found anything that seemed to connect with regards to White Feather.  However today’s research brought up Princess White Feather’s 1939 obituary. http://www.stthomasucclinglestown.org/gpage39.html

Here is the information from the above refernced website: 

In 1939 headlines in local papers reviewed the life of an honored lady who was not a member of the church.  An American Indian Princess was buried in Wenrich’s cemetery on August 26, 1939.  She had died two days before on her seventy-second birthday.  [Another report gave it as her eighty-fourth].  Headlines read:  INDIAN PRINCESS DIES AT HER COTTAGE NEAR LINGLESTOWN.  Another headline with her photo read, “Indians to Mark Passing of Princess Eagle Feather.”  As recently as 1974, interest in this revered lady was renewed with an article and photograph in The Paxton Herald by Curtiss Demmy.   This photo pictured a group of local Native Americans in tribal costume, adding credence to the ceremony.  They represented tribes that included Cherokees, Shawnees and Susquehannocks. 

There are few proven facts about the life of White Feather.  The following are the stories that have been passed down.    Princess White Feather and her husband, Chief Running Wolf, lived in a cabin just to the north of Linglestown on grounds at Camp Sertoma.  Her story goes back to 1873 when, as a six-year-old, she heard of God for the first time and became a firm member of the Christian faith.  From then, and for her entire life, she was known as “a wonderful woman.”

In the government’s efforts to clear American Indians from newly taken land, her parents were among those killed by Army troops.    Her uncle,  Chief Irontail,  who is said to be pictured on the Indian Head nickel, found her in the arms of her dead mother Prairie Flower, who was killed in that 1870 massacre. 

As a young girl, Princess White Feather (also known as Princess Eagle Feather), was sent to the Carlisle Indian School, where she was known as Mary Greene.  Among her contemporaries at the school were the famed athlete, Jim Thorpe, and “long-haired Harry, known as the world’s greatest knife thrower.”  She grew to be very striking in stature and beauty.  Her kindliness and gentle manner was noted throughout her lifetime.  However, she grew up holding a great fear of the white race.  It was later told that being violated as a young woman, she ran away from the Indian school and went to Harrisburg. [A different account states that she graduated from the Carlisle American Indian School before going to Harrisburg].  There she was given a home with a good family until she married Charles A. Redd, with whom she had several children. For some years she worked as a domestic and was known as Mary Redd.  After her husband’s death, she found her former Native American roots.

When Bonus Marches on Washington D.C. hit the news in the early 1930’s as a result of the Great Depression, Mary discovered the name Carl C. Taylor, also known as Chief Running Wolf.  They had been separated as a result of Indian Wars.  He was a member of the Miscelearo Apache Tribe.  He served as a scout in the Spanish-American War, and in the 80th division Infantry in World War I.  Princess White Feather remembered him as a sweetheart of her youth.  His notoriety as one of the first Indians in the Buffalo Bill Show that toured Europe allowed her a way to correspond with him.  He and Princess White Feather were reunited and married.  They settled in Huntingdon and later in Steelton before returning to the Harrisburg area.  At the time of the Princess’ death, he operated an archery range at Blue Ridge Country Club.  Being a very religious man, he was known to preach as a guest in several local churches.

Since Chief Running Wolf (Carl C. Taylor) was a war veteran, he asked Linglestown Legionnaires to furnish pallbearers for the Princess’ funeral.  They were:  John Myers, Nevin W. Moyer, George Foreman, Hal Stoneking and Ernest Albright.  Because of Moyer’s connection with Wenrich’s Church and the Legion, Wenrich’s Cemetery was chosen as the resting place of this honored lady. A hand carved headstone marks her grave.  Princess White Feather was buried in native costume:  a green beaded dress, beaded headband and feather, silver earrings and bracelet, strings of beads and rings.  Also buried with her were a bow, three arrows and a 100-year old pipe.  Her status as princess was reinforced by many who also knew her for her Indian remedies. Her kindness, beauty and healing powers were known to many area residents.

Although this historic event was at Wenrich’s Cemetery, Rev. Phillips did not preside at the service.  Princess White Feather and Chief Running Wolf were listed as members of a church at Dauphin where Rev. C. T. Tice was their pastor.  He conducted the service at Zimmerman Funeral Chapel in Linglestown preceding interment at Wenrich’s Cemetery.

Other than her informative obituary I have very little information about her but I will continue to search to see if I can validate this connection as well.

In the meantime I feel blessed to have such an honorable guide as Charlie, the Comanche and the name White Feather which I will use with honor and pride.