A LITTLE HEAT

Below a response to Memories and Dreams:
“To be the one thing or the other and to make the pray and the offer and to know life is this altar, it is a good thing to say.
Many problems we face and many we have made to be, it is not a thing many would have to be said but it is true and maybe more should speak of this. Maybe these ones who make all the talk and say I am the wise and brave one, and I have written the book and made the movie listen to me and send the money should speak about these things
to.
Maybe it is they would think to speak the true things would not put the money in the pocket and better not do this. These ones do not have the dream and the memory, they have the talk and the walk.”……….Meoquane and Jess

M+J -money and appearances are the motivation, it’s about what will find a sympathetic audience, what will sell, and what will not. Anything that might be perceived as a shortcoming or flaw must either be ignored or minimized in some way.

I take the opposite approach-I think love of a people, of an individual, would be a motivation to say lets sit and talk about this and seek to find a  solution for these things, ultimately in doing so all will benefit and a people  will be strengthened.

I catch a little heat from time to time for addressing the issues I do, but it doesn’t phase me,  nor will it dissuade me, as these are the issues that should be addressed-and will only worsen as long as they are not.

I’ve been accused of lacking respect for the culture of one nation  or another in raising such topics-my response is if such things as these are defended as a part of any culture then my alleged lack  of respect is an accurate statement.

What is never mentioned though is my so called lack of respect is not only warranted but selective in nature-selective in the context that while I respect all the nations and those aspects based on  tradition, I will never condone, accept, respect, or remain silent
about existing aberrations or crimes committed against a people, any people, by their own.

Take the land for instance-I see  many grandiose internet statements about the great connection to the land, and the mother the land is- how the land is never for sale-my question is if this is so  what virtue lies in littering your mothers body with wine and beer
bottles? Or abandoned vehicles, appliances, plastic garbage bags filled with trash, or smearing the landscape with graffiti?

If the land is so sacred then spend a little time with friends or alone to collect some of the refuse-gather like minded individuals to load and deliver some of those defunct appliances, some of those, broken down rusting vehicles, some of those cans and bottles to recycling centers- might even make a few dollars to contribute to a fund or feed one’s family with.

Why aren’t some of these wannabe leaders organizing such things-if they thought about it they could/would surely find a way  to garner a little more of that coveted media attention to feed their  addiction.

Is virtue to be found in leasing land to mining companies or other commercial interests who always seek to dilute or evade environmental standards? Is that part of the sacred connection? What examples are set for them to be environmentally concious?

For those who want to “Indian up” and talk all the internet bs better not to speak and just live the things they flood the net with. Better to enumerate the problems forced upon the nations by the entire treaty system, BIA, and DOI, while at the same time enumerating and dealing with those created by ourselves-devote equal air time to both.

The solution is multifaceted-leave any part out of the equation and not much will change. Continue to reject any personal or communal responsibility in favor of blaming everything on others and see how much mileage that translates to in the real world..

Enough is enough-these things have gone on for too long, and the excuses have become embedded and are offered up automatically with no thought to whether they are valid or not, no personal or communal acceptance of responsibility-maybe that works for others, but not for me-maybe that is the new honoring the land, but not for me.

It’s all about taking on the government in the courts, and there is a profound need to do so, but there is also a profound need to take on ourselves. Something wisdom and “warriors” would acknowledge and address.

Something one would think celebrity wannabe chiefs, tribal councils, pipe carriers, and medicine men who prefer to waddle around mumbling incantations in videos targeting foreign audiences would be in the forefront of addressing.

MEMORIES AND DREAMS

As indigenous people it is the memory and dreams of what it meant to be free roaming-those times before the invasion, the  defeats, and the reservation, that in part sustains us today.

In another generation or two at this present rate of assimilation  the dreams will be no more, and the memories only vague ephemeral things we will clutch at and never quite recall.

Our spirits will no longer be able to communicate with us for our lack of knowing the language, ceremonies will be spoken in a tongue once foreign to us and them, and in doing so lose much of their value and the ability that allows us to connect.

It is cause for alarm, but those who are already disconnected fail to understand or appreciate the gravity of such things. It is more than claiming some measure of the blood, it is about being one thing or another-and makes the struggle to regain what has been lost even more poignant and desperate.

Respect for the land has been all but lost-go to any rez and see the sprawling litter, abandoned decaying buildings, rusting vehicles, piled up refuse, graffiti, wine bottles and beer cans that are the new landscape, to know the way  of this.

Women have fallen to a near state of chattel, children are abused and abandoned by either one or both parents, elder abuse is no longer a  stranger.

Rape, crime, alcohol and substance abuse are rapidly becoming the new traditions. Men who would once hunt and forage for days if necessary to feed those dependent upon them now are content to wait for the check and talk of  being warriors.

Leaders no longer base their leadership on wisdom or the common good, it is about nepotism, corruption, backroom deals,  lining their own pockets, and some form of celebrity.

Our spirits speak to us in dreams and visions in the only language they know-our languages-when the language is lost so to will be the dreams and visions, and then the memories.

Time to mount up, we need to impress ourselves and those around us with our behavior and the quality of person we are first- not an outside internet based audience.

In a related aside I would add that just his day I saw a crystal waver site going on about Spider Woman that included a photo of an “altar” the author had constructed in their home on a small table that consisted of a statuette of Spider Woman(?), a little fountain with flowing water, a knife, a feather, and other paraphenalia-I’m never quite sure how to react to things like this-whether it is the work of a well intentioned child with a vivid imagination or a complete lack of understanding.
.
Altars with little fountains and statues-sounds very  Catholic to me-life is the altar-it is where offerings and good works should be placed and the way we approach it.

We pray and offer each morning as a family to Creator for the gift of all things-we offer sage, cedar, and tobacco, but we live the day and the things we do and say as a continuation of that.

We view prophecies as communication to be aware of, sign posts along the way-but we do not make them a life’s work, as we know the things that will be will be and scripted in the distant past. Neither would we ever seek to monetarily profit from them.

It might be nice to be privy all things-yet we accept it isn’t given to us, and in viewing the corruption of what is known and of prophecies we accept that as  wisdom greater than our own.

We do not entertain apprehension, fear of what may be or what may not be, because we believe and trust. When one builds a fire they do so with an eye to containing it knowing the damage it may do-this is our approach, we are aware of what can happen and in our awareness of this we prepare accordingly-but we do not dwell on these things, instead we live the life given to us.

I have no problem with altars per se if they provide a comfort or a focal point-all I would ask is that those constructing one leave us out of it.

AGED TOOTHLESS PREDATOR

Hill’s name inevitably surfaces in any discussion concerning Annie or Ray-always a shadowy figure with what appears to be an inordinate amount of luck or friends in high places.

Not the sharpest tool in the shed I think with his laughable rendition of the mysterious Mr. X- Peltier’s wannabe fabricated homeboy coming to the rescue.  But like the line from Sultans of Swing by Dire Straits:

Harry doesn’t mind if he doesn’t make the scene- He’s got a daytime job, he’s doing alright………

Avoiding the scene has been a vocation-one he’s been adept at, no interviews, save the comical Mr. X skit, no bragging of deeds ala Peltier, no seeking the spotlight, movie career, or even a book.  Not so much as a whimper-just another aged toothless predator
who must now lay in wait for something to pass by.

No, the inimitable Hill prefers anonymity, and like Brando in On The Waterfront believes he could have been somebody-he could have  been a contender.

If there is any comfort to be found in the midst of this lament perhaps solace will be present in the knowledge that he is somebody-a  person of interest in ongoing and newly re-opened investigations.

Chin up “Mr. X”,  the spotlight awaits, and along with the original audience a new generation is eager to hear the taking of the Fifth- but it ain’t over til it’s over. The Fifth, that device which to me so clearly speaks to and defines a multitude of things.

No Janklow this time to grant absolution-little if any wiggle room-wiggle room that can only be purchased at the expense of another, not for anything as mundane as thirty pieces of silver, rather testimony to indict others to save ones own sorry ass in that process
known as immunity- an immunity from prosecution that replaces the communion wafer and leaves only the admonition to go and sin no  more,  lending credibility to the concept that indeed crime does pay at times.

I understand this process of bartering information for immunity, I understand that it is often an essential ingredient, a necessary evil- but I loathe the necessity of it. I loathe the fact that all it requires to escape justice is to assist in visiting it upon another  regardless of how well deserved it might be.

A necessity created by the unwillingness of bit players, or good people stepping up to do the right thing- The right thing, once a standard,  a tradition- now a tradition lost not all that long ago and facilitated by the beast AIM became, the rogues that populated it, and individuals  like Harry David Hill, aka Mr.X. who ran in predatory packs that separated the vulnerable, taking them down while nipping at the heels  and intimidating others into silence.

Silence IS consent, or as it is said in Latin, Qui tacet consentire videtur- a legal term that translates to giving consent to this thing. This thing of murder, of abduction, of rape, of burnings and bombings, looting, and outright theft and destruction.  Of shooting an unarmed man and leaving him to die in a desperate rictus of indifference and being alone.

Silence has led to decades of grief and misery, murders, destruction and abuses on an epic scale-time to end that, time for all the people to remember who they are, where they came from, what it means, and above all to withhold consent, and in so doing resurrect honor and dignity.

How dead must a heart and spirit be to ignore, condone, or excuse such things as these? What degree of detachment, how great a fear, what code?

RUMORS, GRAPEVINES, AND TELEGRAPHS

Rumors are and always been a part of the equation in the murders of Annie Mae and Ray Robinson-I suspect it will remain so. Often  they  are given attribution to such ephemeral things as a grapevine or telegraph system clad in moccasins.

Better to ask what grapevine produced them and whose moccasins we’re talking about?
I have no doubt that some rumors actually have a basis in fact, and have proven to be so- but I am also aware that at least an equal  number are without merit and often initiated to damage and misdirect  rather than to benefit.

One needs only to look at the countless rumors authored by the AIM leadership or LPDOC to know this is true. In doing so consideration should also be given as well to how much time is lost in attempting to verify erroneous ones.

A rumor surfaces and becomes tantamount to an obligation to pursue it for those doing the legwork-and once it has been presented in all likelihood it will gain traction, make the rounds with the predictable additions and subtractions, and become part of the muddled lore.

Some are blatantly ridiculous on the mere face of it-others may contain enough known information that will create a mystique found to be enticing and possibly even lead to some discovery-others will not.

My point I suppose is that we are not children to create or foster rumors without making the individual effort to find some validation for them, or to present them as a fact we can’t assert with any  certainty.

In this day and age of the internet it shoudln’t be all that difficult-there is a lot of information out there, and much that  remains in limbo-our goal as advocates should not be to widen the gap between the two, and in doing so possibly obscure the trail or
unwittingly aid and abet.

Justice, a sincere desire for justice for Annie, Ray, and many others mandates that we do our best with an awareness of how and what we say or present will impact the overall picture- ascribing to that may  not have any entertainment value-but then none of this is a game, and will make the difference between a picture that is blurred or one that is sharp and in focus.

Most rumors I believe for the main part  have their origins in one of two places-either misunderstanding/misinterpretation or malice-better to assure as much as possible neither is the case.

In this discussion and speculation if rumors are to be offered up  we should present them for discussion as what they are, not as fact, the Holy Grail, or an accusation that is beyond reproach.

Someone recently said to me  that there is a lot of heresay floating around, and I completely agree with that-we should remember this is all being played out  in the courts where heresay is inadmissable.

So yeah-discuss, chew on things, do the math, and speculate, but remain true to the spirit of the cause and those of Annie and Ray.

As usual I offer this as an opinion and welcome any discussion or opposing view.

WOMEN, WORDS, AND CONVERSATION

I’ve been thinking about  language and the manner in which as a species humans choose to communicate-their choice of words and the nuance they attach to them. The effectiveness and also the lack of it as a medium of expression  that words are.

I am of the opinion that for the all the words available to humankind and their varied definitions, it is at times silence or a touch that speaks the loudest, and has the greatest meaning.

Recently I have been engaged in a discussion of sorts about the conversational needs and differences between men and women-since women are pretty much a mystery to me at times I claim no authority or particular insights-but I am struck by what I consider to be a few notables.

Women are often described as emotional beings, and I suppose they are to a greater extent than men, or maybe they just show it more-aside from  that they are notably gregarious, both of which manifest themselves in verbalizations- hence the commonly held opinion that women enjoy talking.

A  part of this may simply be a coping mechanism to deal with what they have to put up with or the result of an innate joy and a desire to express that-a need to sing-maybe both.

I saw a flock of birds in a tree the other day-chirping and carrying on like it was a grand entry at pow wow, as I looked closer I noticed they  were all hens and started laughing-I was asked what I was laughing about and when I explained it to a woman she began laughing as well and said yes the women of all nations always have something to say.

I think that like birds if one listens to the conversations of women they too often have the lilt of songs to them.

There is a fascination for me in what is described as “baby talk”, women are masters at this, it is the way in which adults will converse with  an infant, even the most stoic of men will engage in this at times, often accompanied by exaggerated sounds and expressions- pure moments unfettered by convention or self conciousness.

Total strangers in a store will approach to bill and coo-it is a phenomena, a saving grace in the midst of the human condition.

Conversation shouldn’t be forced -it should be comfortable and natural-it isn’t volume, but quality. There’s a time to talk, a time to listen, and a time to forcefully speak out- knowing the differences qualifies the speaker and the intent.

People shouldn’t feel threatened or uncomfortable in the presence of another or in conversation, and I think that is the key-understanding their  comfort level and contributing to it-whether it’s a loved one, a friend, or some one you just happen to be passing the time with. Obviously there are exceptions to this-but that’s what they are in my opinion, exceptions.

The women’s lib movement is another fascination to me-I understand the concept and agenda, but I also think there has been a trade off at times and that this should not evolve into a competition that it seemingly has for some.

I’ve know a few “libbers”, some of them very well rounded individuals and a pleasure to be around-others have been what I can only describe as manic harpies and shrews failing to understand that taking on the male characteristics of aggressive and loud behavior that is condemned in men is antithetical not only to the nature of women, but to what I assume the liberation movement is about.

Too often I think this liberation movement takes on a rhetorical air of masculinity that at least to me seems counterproductive-too much profanity, too many anatomical references, too much in your face for what I assume is shock value.

Maybe I’m wrong about that, but it is a behavior I dislike in men and even more so in women. The relationship between men and women shouldn’t be a competitive one-it should be balanced and respectful-yet it seems as though it is being driven in that direction-competition, aggression, imbalance, and a lack of mutual respect.

If we as men are so deficit in the “social graces” and/or our understanding, no lesson, no example, will be provided in mirroring any negative qualities we may have.

It is my nature to offer a basic respect to both men and women-beyond that respect is earned-since I am a man and would avoid the appearance of any  bias I will leave the review of their counterparts to women.

For all our many endeavours we as a species find our greatest achievements in relationships-those of a husband or wife, a parent, a son or daughter, a sister or brother, and it is not only our actions that honor and facilitate these things but the manner in which we converse as well-the things we say, the things we fail to say-and those moments of silence that can be a blanket to wrap and comfort another in-wings to shelter and embrace with.

RAY ROBINSON’S FACE BOOK

Well Ray Robinson has a page on Face Book now-a long time coming,  but hopefully will increase not only awareness but a healthy dose of skepticism about what has been the party line.

Trudell is getting thumped there, but I’m willing to give him credit for hanging in, and also say I am in agreement with his insistence on looking for an infiltrator, whatever his reasons are for that. Maybe it is the best clue he is able or willing to give at this point?

It is no secret that there is growing suspicion among many that somewhere in the AIM hierarchy there exists the ultimate mole-I believe that without any reservations.
Some I’m sure are going to read into my words a defense of Trudell and/or the feds- which they are not-I merely wish to point out  that for whatever assumptions are being made that he “knows all and can  tell all” one shouldn’t lose focus as there are plenty of candidates, and not a one of them willing to put in an appearance on Annie’s or Ray’s page

I believe some person or persons in the top three or four in AIM gave up not only Peltier’s location when he was being sought but  also information about his role in the murder of Wiiliams and Coler-I  believe a part of that deal was to look away from those troublesome  questions concerning WK2, Ray, and Annie-in that context what would have
been of greater value to the feds, bringing in Peltier or worrying  about a bunch of dead Indians and a black man?

To me that would be where the fed involvement lay if there is one-and  for all the talk about Price telling Annie she would be dead in a year I  think that has been taken and run with as a smoke screen. Of all the  players why would they want Annie  taken out ? What purpose would that have served?

They knew she was under suspicion and being accused of snitching, seems like it was meant more as an enticement for her to roll over-an either help us and save yourself or in all probability these people you are aligned with will take you out-and that is exactly what happened.

I want someone to show me one example of the feds “jacketing” her, produce one credible person who can testify a fed told them Annie was a snitch. That jacket was created and circulated by AIM-no one else.

The fact that it has somehow become accepted that the feds did speaks to how effective the lies and propaganda have been and how gullible people are.

Trudell says to take a look at the history-we all should look closely  at that history as whoever this person is has hidden in plain sight for decades. Looking at who gets away with the most would be a good place to start-then ask yourself if this person is such a threat as they like to portray themselves how is it they have so much latitude?

What has always troubled me is the complete lack of involvement in the search for justice for Ray by any black leadership or organization. Very uncharacteristic when they will actively pursue other cases that date further back. That may change now with Ray’s page, and I think an outline detailing all this should be sent to the USAG Holder, the NAACP,
the Congressional Black Caucus.

Tribal leadership, infirmity, walking and talking, books, movies, youtube videos-none of that is going to make a difference-the trail has been cut again and this time I believe it will be followed to it’s end.

The actual physical participants in the murder of Annie are known-it has been established through testimony and convictions-the search now is for those who had prior knowledge and orchestrated the event-that to be followed by those who knew after the fact and became a part of the conspiracy to cover it up by not speaking out.

When all is said and done I have little doubt it will be the same cast of miscreants who precipitated and know the truth about Ray and those unmarked graves-heroes, medicine men, and warriors? Only a fool would think so.

A few hours later and after more thought I felt like adding the below:

My thinking about this isn’t complicated- I believe it should be  apparent after decades that IF Trudell is a potential fount of  information, knows more than he is saying, at least at this point he isn’t going to reveal more than he already has.

No amount of pretty please is going to change that, neither will cajoling or exhortations to not be fearful. If it is a matter of apprehension no one that I see making such requests is in any kind of a position to gaurantee his safety.

This is a man who has repeatedly testified that Banks told him prior to the identification of Annie’s remains that it was her-and who now is saying that if resolution is to be sought for Ray’s family to look in a certain direction.

Revealing Bank’s words was a bold step which was helpful in propelling  the investigation forward and also in securing those convictions that have been obtained.

It raises a couple of questions for me: 1. If there is more  what motivation is there for not revealing it? Is it self protection, self protection after potentially putting oneself at risk with the Banks statement?

2. Protecting someone else? If so for what reason-an after the fact loyalty that excluded Banks? And why the insistence to “follow the known  names and the history of their behaviors from 73 to 76 and see how who got treated what ways by the fbi…”

The above sounds like good advice to me, and something I have said in one form or another previously-the KNOWN names, that translates to the upper level for me-the upper level who have for some time have appeared to have some form of immunity.

Means, Banks, Bellecourt-and what about Hill who always seems to skate around on the periphery? Hill was an upper level gopher, not a policy maker-much the same as Peltier, so I doubt any decisions were cleared through him.

I’ve heard people offer the opinion that Trudell is the insider-if so he’s playing a risky game continually pointing the finger at the feds wouldn’t you say?

I recall Russell saying that “prior” to his late arrival at being informed by women talking in the 90′s he believed the feds did it, and after that  went on to name Bellecourt and others.

So absolution from the Mount for a fed involvement not to be revisited- hmmm. Now I wonder who else in that group, if any, has given up the fed approach?

Trudell’s story has changed over time-but then just about everyone’s has hasn’t it? My own from going to a Peltier supporter and believer the  feds had some heavy involvement in the murder of Annie Mae to the exact opposite-and I wonder how many others have done likewise?

Trudell is the ONLY person who ever had any real level of status in AIM of that period and the Peltier machine, that I am aware of who has  stepped forward to dispute the party leaders-the ONLY one who has broken  the “vow of silence” to any degree-  Trudell is the ONLY AIM member of any standing who has visited either page-he is the ONLY one who has implicated Banks, he is the ONLY one who has gone on court record in doing so-and I believe that because he is the ONLY one who will respond everyone focuses entirely on him as though he has every answer and it is only a matter of stringing the right words together that will compel him to speak. That’s about as myopic and fantasy laden a concept as has been floated- better I think to approach him as an ally of sorts than an adversary.

I’m not forgetting Russell’s bogus self serving theatrics in the naming of Vernon-but I view that as damage control considering his brothers linkage in the now infamous phone call.

If my opinions are a mistake  that will come out in time, and I offer it as an opinion. An opinion, if in error,  I am more than willing to be so informed and corrected if anyone wants to address it.

RESERVATION AGENTS

Today’s reservation agents-those liberators, facilitators, and walkers and talkers-who like those of yesteryear skim the best off the top for themselves and then distribute the tainted beef that is left.

One could reasonably ask if they are government appointed, and in such an appointment granted a level of immunity?

Such agents historically wrote glowing reports of their good deeds, their dedication to advancing the welfare of those who they ministered to.

Sound familiar? If not take a look at the books and the videos that are so prevalent today-much the same isn’t it?

In the past it was a  boot on the neck of the people that held them down-but oppression and abuse are the same whether it is a boot or a moccasin, and both are to be resisted.

The murder of Wesley Bad Heart Bull and the subsequent beating of his mother Sarah Bad Heart Bull led to the confrontation at the Custer court house-these modern day Indian agents were in the forefront of that demanding justice for a murdered son and a beaten mother.

I view their participation now as little more than resume building, this due to their complete lack of participation and willingness to secure the same justice for Annie Mae they were so vocal about at Custer. Their complete unwillingness to address the issues of gangs and the epidemic rape and abuse of women and children.

There is a reason for this lack of effort, one that should be obvious to all, and as rumors begin to circulate anew about pending indictments those reasons should become all too apparent.

An AIM hater? Not at all-just an individual who has no use for Indian agents be they past or present-no use for liars, murderers, rapists, or thieves. No use for Peltier, Graham, Means, Banks, Camp, Crow Dog, Bellecourt, Lorelie, Madonna, or any like them. No use for bloated defense committees or would be pundits and authors with their breathless conspiracy theories and fairy tales.

A line is being drawn in the sand-a battle cry sounded? Good, now honor both, the line and the call-ask for no quarter and give none. You have a voice-use it.

Zitkala-Sa (Gertrude Bonnin)

Zitkala-Sa-Gertrude Simmons Bonnin 1876-1938
a grand daughter of Sitting Bull

An activist for indigenous people when there were few-even more remarkable
was that during that era she would have been faced with what would have
amounted to severe handicaps-that of being a woman and indigenous-yet she persevered, overcame them, and left a worthy legacy.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gertrude_Simmons_Bonnin -

http://www.arlingtoncemetery.net/gsbonnin.htm

Why I Am A Pagan:  Zitkala-Sa
WHEN the spirit swells my breast I love to roam leisurely among the green hills; or sometimes, sitting on the brink of the murmuring Missouri, I marvel at the great blue overhead. With half closed eyes I watch the huge cloud shadows in their noiseless play upon the high bluffs opposite me, while into my ear ripple the sweet, soft cadences of the river’s song. Folded hands lie in my lap, for the time forgot. My heart and I lie small upon the earth like a grain of throbbing sand. Drifting clouds and tinkling waters, together with the warmth of a genial summer day, bespeak with eloquence the loving Mystery round about us. During the idle while I sat upon the sunny river brink, I grew somewhat, though my response be not so clearly manifest as in the green grass fringing the edge of the high bluff back of me.

At length retracing the uncertain footpath scaling the precipitous embankment, I seek the level lands where grow the wild prairie flowers. And they, the lovely little folk, soothe my soul with their perfumed breath.

Their quaint round faces of varied hue convince the heart which leaps with glad surprise that they, too, are living symbols of omnipotent thought. With a child’s eager eye I drink in the myriad star shapes wrought in luxuriant color upon the green. Beautiful is the spiritual essence they embody.

I leave them nodding in the breeze but take along with me their impress upon my heart. I pause to rest me upon a rock embedded on the side of a foothill facing the low river bottom. Here the Stone-Boy, of whom the American aborigine tells, frolics about, shooting his baby arrows and shouting aloud with glee at the tiny shafts of lightning that flash from the flying arrow-beaks. What an ideal warrior he became, baffling the siege of the pests of all the land till he triumphed over their united attack. And here he lay, — Invan, our great-great-grandfather, older than the hill he rested on, older than the race of men who love to tell of his wonderful career.

Interwoven with the thread of this Indian legend of the rock, I fain would trace a subtle knowledge of the native folk which enabled them to recognize a kinship to any and all parts of this vast universe. By the leading of an ancient trail, I move toward the Indian village.

With the strong, happy sense that both great and small are so surely enfolded in His magnitude that, without a miss, each has his allotted individual ground of opportunities, I am buoyant with good nature.

Yellow Breast, swaying upon the slender stem of a wild sunflower, warbles a sweet assurance of this as I pass near by. Breaking off the clear crystal song, he turns his wee head from side to side eyeing me wisely as slowly I plod with moccasined feet. Then again he yields himself to his song of joy. Flit, flit hither and yon, he fills the summer sky with his swift, sweet melody. And truly does it seem his vigorous freedom lies more in his little spirit than in his wing.

With these thoughts I reach the log cabin whither I am strongly drawn by the tie of a child to an aged mother. Out bounds my four-footed friend to meet me, frisking about my path with unmistakable delight. Chan is a black shaggy dog, “a thorough bred little mongrel,” of whom I am very fond. Chan seems to understand many words in Sioux, and will go to her mat even when I whisper the word, though generally I think she is guided by the tone of the voice. Often she tries to imitate the sliding inflection and long drawn out voice to the amusement of our guests, but her articulation is quite beyond my ear. In both my hands I hold her shaggy head and gaze into her large brown eyes. At once the dilated pupils contract into tiny black dots, as if the roguish spirit within would evade my questioning.

Finally resuming the chair at my desk I feel in keen sympathy with my fellow creatures, for I seem to see clearly again that all are akin.

The racial lines, which once were bitterly real, now serve nothing more than marking out a living mosaic of human beings. And even here men of the same color are like the ivory keys of one instrument where each represents all the rest, yet varies from them in pitch and
quality of voice. And those creatures who are for a time mere echoes of another’s note are not unlike the fable of the thin sick man whose distorted shadow, dressed like a real creature, came to the old master to make him follow as a shadow. Thus with a compassion for all echoes in human guise, I greet the solemn-faced “native preacher” whom I find awaiting me. I listen with respect for God’s creature, though he mouth most strangely the jangling phrases of a bigoted creed.

As our tribe is one large family, where every person is related to all the others, he addressed me: –

“Cousin, I came from the morning church service to talk with you.”

“Yes,” I said interrogatively, as he paused for some word from me.

Shifting uneasily about in the straight-backed chair he sat upon, he began: “Every holy day (Sunday) I look about our little God’s house, and not seeing you there, I am disappointed. This is why I come to-day. Cousin, as I watch you from afar, I see no unbecoming behavior and hear only good reports of you, which all the more burns me with the wish that you were a church member. Cousin, I was taught long years ago by kind missionaries to read the holy book. These godly men taught me also the folly of our old beliefs.

“There is one God who gives reward or punishment to the race of dead men. In the upper region the Christian dead are gathered in unceasing song and prayer. In the deep pit below, the sinful ones dance in torturing flames.

“Think upon these things, my cousin, and choose now to avoid the after-doom of hell fire!” Then followed a long silence in which he clasped tighter and unclasped again his interlocked fingers.

Like instantaneous lightning flashes came pictures of my own mother’s making, for she, too, is now a follower of the new superstition.

“Knocking out the chinking of our log cabin, some evil hand thrust in a burning taper of braided dry grass, but failed of his intent, for the fire died out and the half burned brand fell inward to the floor. Directly above it, on a shelf, lay the holy book. This is what we found after our return from a several days’ visit. Surely some great power is hid in the sacred book!”

Brushing away from my eyes many like pictures, I offered midday meal to the converted Indian sitting wordless and with downcast face. No sooner had he risen from the table with “Cousin, I have relished it,” than the church bell rang.

Thither he hurried forth with his afternoon sermon. I watched him as he hastened along, his eyes bent fast upon the dusty road till he disappeared at the end of a quarter of a mile.

The little incident recalled to mind the copy of a missionary paper brought to my notice a few days ago, in which a “Christian” pugilist commented upon a recent article of mine, grossly perverting the spirit of my pen. Still I would not forget that the pale-faced missionary and the hoodooed aborigine are both God’s creatures, though small indeed their own conceptions of Infinite Love. A wee child toddling in a wonder world, I prefer to their dogma my excursions into the natural gardens where the voice of the Great Spirit is heard in the twittering of birds, the rippling of mighty waters, and the sweet breathing of flowers. If this is Paganism, then at present, at least, I am a Pagan.

AN IDEA WHOSE TIME IS COME

Below is a copy/paste skabewis made in the blog Never again and beneath it my response. Regrettably sometimes rewards are necessary rather than specifically relying on good will or a shared desire to see justice done.

Ultimately the value lays in the results produced, and this is an excellent example of a situation where just such an offer would be of benefit. There is a familiar saying about putting ones money where their mouth is-I know many struggle with finances and the current economic situation, but if enough of us could forgo some favored little treat in lieu of donating to this effort the possibility for something good to happen is very real.

I’ve felt for a long time that rewards in a variety of related matters could be a step towards the much sought after closure that is needed. Now we may have that opportunity-and it is an opportunity that should be given careful consideration.

Not looking to put anyone on the spot, only to ask that others think about this, and if in agreement to do what they can:

skabewis
The people who witnessed pieces of both the Ray Robinson and Annie Mae cases, and perhaps the other 6 Wounded Knee victims that Leonard Crow Dog conducted a spiritual calming, or cover-up ceremony depending on how you look at it, are out there — but like Indian Country, are scattered across the country. Cheryl Buswell Robinson is talking about a potential reward for information, but her family is not well off, and mainly just wanting to find Robinson’s remains to bring them back out of Wounded Knee so that the Martin Luther King followers he worked with, the NAACP and other relatives don’t have to interfere with the Mass Grave victims in order to commemorate his activities. No questions asked if it is helpful to their family quest. I have talked to her in the last few weeks about this — as she has never been convinced that either the feds will follow thru with an aggressive investigation for a Black man buried in Wounded Knee, nor that any leadership members in AIM involved, like Dennis Banks, Stan Holder, Carter Camp, Clyde Bellecourt, Leonard Crow Dog, Madonna Gilbert-Thunder Hawk, Russell or Ted Means, Frank Blackhorse, Lorelie DeCora Means, Robert Anderson or others at the Security level either had the courage or integrity to step up and help bring his remains back. Even a spokeperson for Leonard Peltier, and who is close to Leonard Crow Dog claimed recently his death was a accident from what he knew about it — well then, why all the cover-up efforts and silence over an accident?????
If anyone would like to contact her, I can forward that information from skabewis@hotmail.com or watch for further developments.

The people who witnessed pieces of both the Ray Robinson and Annie Mae cases, and perhaps the other 6 Wounded Knee victims that Leonard Crow Dog conducted a spiritual calming, or cover-up ceremony depending on how you look at it, are out there — but like Indian Country, are scattered across the country. Cheryl Buswell Robinson is talking about a potential reward for information, but her family is not well off, and mainly just wanting to find Robinson’s remains to bring them back out of Wounded Knee so that the Martin Luther King followers he worked with, the NAACP and other relatives don’t have to interfere with the Mass Grave victims in order to commemorate his activities. No questions asked if it is helpful to their family quest. I have talked to her in the last few weeks about this — as she has never been convinced that either the feds will follow thru with an aggressive investigation for a Black man buried in Wounded Knee, nor that any leadership members in AIM involved, like Dennis Banks, Stan Holder, Carter Camp, Clyde Bellecourt, Leonard Crow Dog, Madonna Gilbert-Thunder Hawk, Russell or Ted Means, Frank Blackhorse, Lorelie DeCora Means, Robert Anderson or others at the Security level either had the courage or integrity to step up and help bring his remains back. Even a spokeperson for Leonard Peltier, and who is close to Leonard Crow Dog claimed recently his death was a accident from what he knew about it — well then, why all the cover-up efforts and silence over an accident?????
If anyone would like to contact her, I can forward that information from skabewis@hotmail.com or watch for further developments.

Thanks for the info and the email/link-I don’t know if there is any measure of what
is referred to as political correctness in all of this issue but I’m of the opinion that
since Annie’s family and Ray’s share a common misery along with others it might
serve a good purpose in view of Russell’s paypal links to solicit funds for his
treatments if maybe such a link could be set up on the Annie page by Cheryl to
secure donations for this mentioned reward-possibly even NFIC.

Either would address an established audience and add an air of  credibility. I  would surely donate to it and others I have spoken to in this brief interlude between your response and now mine have said they would as well.
Just a thought.

NEVER AGAIN

“Never again will you be capable of ordinary human feeling. Everything will be dead inside you. Never again will you be capable of love, or friendship­, or joy of living, or laughter, or curiosity, or courage, or integrity. You will be hollow. We shall squeeze you empty and then we shall fill you with ourselves.­”

A perfect description of the intent of the invaders-to empty us and in turn transform us into something other than who and what we are-”kill the Indian and save the man”.

This being filled with the character and intent of others is something to be guarded against, even in this day no less so than in days past.

It is the gaping abyss of acculturation from which there is no return-it was/is the mandate of liberators who desire only to lead and not to provide examples or walk side by side.

It was the rape and murder of a woman they called sister and for whom to this day to serve their ends liberators shed tears of acid that corrode not only her truth and memory, but the truth and memories of nations-and now we must all say to them…………never again.