Much easier to be Indian these days

by Ricey Wild
News From Indian Country

Dear readers, I am happy to tell you that it’s been much easier for me to be Indian these days. I’ve been down flat on my back in a deep dark hole more times than I care to count. And even when it looks the darkest and I think I cannot possibly get up again, I start my slow crawl back to the light. The closer I get the brighter it becomes, and so once again, I live.

Mi vida loca that is.

I got a summer job at the Risky Raccoon Golf Course & Skeet Shooting Range. I worked there a couple years ago and had a blast! I seem to return to my fave backup job in customer service in cycles. I love to socialize with people and I especially like to tease them and make sure that folks have a good time. I work in food and beverage, and at times I get to drive the beverage cart, which is a sort of grown-up ice cream wagon.
Some golfers (who are way cool) remember me from before. One wag said to me, “Here comes the crazy lady in the b

eer cart!” I tossed my curls, flashed my Hershey Dark Chocolate eyes at him and replied? “Who you calling a lady?” See? That’s the kind of fun I have there. This particular course is quite challenging from what I hear from the golfers. It is a sadly common sight to see them searching for their golf balls in the woods while sputtering colorfully descriptive words of annoyance and frustration. Not being a golfer myself, I just don’t get it. What is the fascination? The impetus? Self-flagellation?

And here is me who never knew that a lot of Indians not only love to golf, but dang! They’re good too! I met some who have gone pro and make it look easy. It is so not. I have found out I am a right handed putter and left handed driver... can’t figure that one out yet.

What I know for sure is that golfers keep coming back and enjoy it no matter how mad they get. I am currently considering taking up the sport. This despite every warning bell in my body and psyche going off in a screeching alarm saying “don’t do it!” That brings me to my Unk Gene, who passed on eleven years ago, it does not seem that long! He was an avid golfer and would describe himself as a “good little golfer” accompanied by his huge cheeky grin. He is the person who inspired the title of my column, and we still tell his stories, all of us, family and friends together. Everyone misses that guy.

Now that I got a job, I needed a car to get me there. My friend Melissa, who is currently experiencing unwanted fame as “the underwear girl,” sold me her car and my fave bro-in-law Pete helped me get it. Things are really looking up and I have my family and friends to thank for it. I do so here in this space, I love yooz, and yooz are wonderful. Thanks to yooz I have my life back. How can I describe how I feel? So I’m sending out a big fuzzy hug to include all of you too-yooz who are reading this. Mmmm!

I found out that Antiques Roadshow is coming to Rezberry. I’ve been collecting junk for years now and I am anxious to find out just how right I was to buy those Indian princess statues from the Franklin Mint. Just kidding. I hate those things. My Mom is very excited tho–she has one of the world’s biggest and most complete ceramic and stuffed chicken collections which is admired and envied by many. All of us kids are vying for her affection so she leaves it to us only, in her will. Talk about sibling rivalry! (You take them, NO! You take them! Aghhhh!)

All the rezidents here are busy getting ready for the big Antiques Roadshow visit, and everyskin is not so secretly hoping to make the final cut for airing. The Rezberry clinic’s denture office is being slammed for shiny new teeth, much hair is being dyed “Indian blackish/brown” so much that Wal-Mart is fresh cleaned out of that color, and Rezberrians are buying that one size smaller Wrangler or Chic jeans to look hot on camera. As long as we suck in our frybread and keep our oily skin from reflecting the lights, we should all clean up pretty good. I’ll post the airing when I know it.

It ain’t easy being Indian, at any time or place, but one’s loved ones make it soooo much easier. Sigh. We all need each other, just admit it. I do.

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