He wrestles daily with the traffic on Loop 610. He sneezes and feels an odd hoarseness in his throat that he never knew until he moved here. It must be a combination of allergies and pollution, he says. It's strange for him to go to grocery stores so crowded he feels as though everybody in the store is heading for the same jar of pickles. But me being Cherokee, no.
Masters lives with a companion in a suburban home in northwest Houston.
In the living room are samples of his pottery, including a piece similar to the one he made for Queen Elizabeth in 1993. Outside, on his patio, are the wind chimes, a rocky fountain that he occasionally hops in, and plants and trees that remind him of home. Within easy reach are his pottery tools and a mound of clay that he dug in Oklahoma. And there in his freezer are the wild onions and half of the kunutchie. He smiles wryly at the message his grandmother sent along with the care package.