Letter to a N8V Friend

Hau kola!

I used to spend a lot of time in AOL’s Native American chat, many years ago.  I was their token white, ennit? I made friends with so many there, in fact I still stay in touch with many, even though I have retired AOL as a browser.

We had meet-ups, and I still have a fishing trip on the Ridge coming… eh, my Lakota kola?  

I could not bring myself to go to that chat yesterday and tell you about the scalp, and break further your dear old heart, grandfather-friend. I hope your eyes are still clear enough to tie a fly, and the trout still come when you call them. I hope your rez-wreck still makes it to the river.

I hope you never hear about the eBay story. I can’t bring myself to tell you. You carry enough on your shoulders, kola.  Your wife who walks the spirit world, your daughter who they sterilized without telling her.  Your son who the drink took. Your other children who live so very far away and rarely bring the grandchildren to see a lonely old man back on the rez.

Instead I hope Windy and the other girls still flirt with you shamelessly, and you laugh as loudly as ever.  You have a great laugh. I hope you make Cherokee this year, and sit and gossip with all the other chatters, watching the boys puff up, and the girls try and snag them. Snagging.  Now thats a smile.  Only we insiders know what that means.  You brought me into that circle. You are family to me, and I love you well. Honorary N8.

The calf was born, and we are used to waiting.  We know how to be still.  We know how to live, laugh, love and survive.  The wasci’ in me isn’t so good at waiting. You know I try.

…and darling, I am sure that trout is indeeeeeeeed a big one.  Heh, kola. Ennit?

Love, Diny