Beckee Garris - Lifeblood of Native American Studies Center

"Just knowing that, at my age, you can still learn. It's not being conceited with yourself, but rather being proud of yourself that you actually achieved something."
– Beckee Garris, who earned her associate’s degree from USCL this spring

Beckee Garris turns 70, finishes college, finds a new mission

Mandy Catoe
mcatoe@thelancasternews.com
June 4, 2017

Catawba native Beckee Garris has been the face of the Native American Studies Center since it opened five years ago on Lancaster’s Main Street.
Her bright smile and warm eyes welcomed visitors from 30 countries, 47 states and 42 of the Palmetto State's 46 counties. Keeping track of that was part of her job as visitor coordinator, working the front desk. Her pottery and baskets regularly adorn the museum. A large photo of her great-grandfather, Catawba Chief Samuel Taylor Blue, hangs on the wall.

The past few weeks have been full of milestones for Garris. She celebrated her 70th birthday and graduated with an associate's degree from USCL. And last Wednesday, she retired from the NASC.
Her co-workers showered her with tributes at a party last Sunday. Their parting gift says a lot about her unending desire to learn – a mandolin, an instrument she has always wanted to take up.

"Beckee Garris was the lifeblood of the Native American Studies Center," said Chris Judge, the NASC’s assistant director. She was  "willing to do anything, try anything and learn anything."
In the heat of the summer of 2011, he noted, she spent three weeks digging at an archaeological site along the Savannah River.
Garris said she will miss her co-workers and the center’s constant stream of visitors.
"It is such a bittersweet thing that I am doing," she said. "They are not just co-workers. They have become family. We have laughed together, cried together, argued with each other like real families."
Retirement doesn’t mean slowing down to Garris. It just means shifting gears.
"I've been running from a calling that has been in my heart a long time," Garris said in an interview last week. Sitting in her chair, she gazed through the huge windows overlooking Main Street. In the pause, she gathered her thoughts.
"I just need to help people," Garris said. "I have no idea how it will happen, but I know it will. It is purely a leap of faith."
History has taught her that yesterday is preparation for tomorrow. Her new mission comes from a heartbreaking moment from nearly three decades ago.

‘A wonderful path’
Garris has three grown children and six grandchildren from age 9 to 23. She was the second child of nine, and only three of her siblings remain.
Her white hair is set off by dark-rimmed glasses framing her brown eyes. She moves with the ease of a much younger woman. Her unadorned, youthful hands are agile, strong and soft, without a single age spot. Her nails are short.     
Garris spent a little time one day last month sharing memories from the past five years. And her co-workers reflected on their time together.
"We’ve walked a wonderful path together, and I’m very honored to have been along for the journey," said Brent Burgin, the NASC’s director of archives. "I couldn’t ask for a better friend and co-worker. I will miss her tremendously."
He said Garris helped identify faces in old photographs, participated in pow-wows, archaeological digs, oral history interviews, craft shows and storytelling.
He half-jokingly blames Garris' cooking and generosity for the 20 pounds he has gained.
She also kept demographics on guests that led to funding and grants.
Garris' art and special touches can be seen throughout the huge facility. In the back sits an empty chair shrouded with a black cloth in honor of recently deceased Chief Gene Norris. The display was her idea.
"When I heard he died, I just knew I needed to do something," Garris said. "I just didn't know what."
Like most of her answers, it just came to her.
Garris' pottery, woven baskets, and a book with her published writing are scattered throughout the center, which honors and studies Native Americans of South Carolina. And rightly so. She is a part of the history being honored.
She left more subtle touches, too. To the right of her chair is a huge display "A Little of that Human Touch." A bolo, a prehistoric woven weapon thrower, is displayed in a glass case. Garris made it with vines and round stones.
"First one I ever made," she said matter-of-factly.

Endless learning
Garris took great pride in the center and enjoyed reading and sharing visitor comments.
"One woman from Hawaii said: 'I've never seen anything like this in all my travels and I would put it up against any national museum in the country.'" 
Harris said she was raised on the nearby Catawba reservation and taught to be quiet and private. That was typical of her generation. Garris said her time at the center and the diploma she just earned gave her a boost in confidence.
"What surprised me is how that small piece of paper empowered me even more," she said. "Just knowing that, at my age, you can still learn. It's not being conceited with yourself, but rather being proud of yourself that you actually achieved something."
Stephen Criswell, NASC director, called Garris “the kindest, most compassionate person I know."
He said his wife died in 2014 and while she was ill, Garris visited her more than anyone besides him and his daughter.

A new mission
Now back to that calling that got louder and louder. Like many missions in life, it came from a deeply painful and personal experience.
Nearly 30 years ago, Garris' father killed her mother. His drinking and demons bled out in domestic abuse. For years, she would not mention him and was enraged when anyone else said his name.
Seven years later, a haunting and recurring dream led her to visit him in prison. She then knew she loved her dad, something she had questioned since her mother's death. The realization brought her peace. She visited him every week until he died three years later.
Garris is leaving to work with victims and perpetrators of domestic abuse. 
"I had to be at a place I could help and not take on their pain in the process," she said.
She is now there. She just knows.
Her compassion is ripe and ready. She is just waiting on the particulars, she said, with complete trust in the Creator.
"You don't have to understand,” she said. “You just have to feel.”
Garris is leaving the Native American Studies Center with a still-forming mission – "like a piece of clay my heart is shaping."

Follow Reporter Mandy Catoe on Twitter @MandyCatoeTLN or
contact her at (803) 283-1152.