No tomorrow, no yesterday, only the right now

Notice: Undefined property: stdClass::$image_fulltext_caption in /home/indiancountrynew/public_html/templates/ja_wall/html/com_content/article/default.php on line 164
src="http://indiancountrynews.net/images/stories/news_photos_2007/riceywild_mugshot_for_web.jpg" alt="
Notice: Undefined property: stdClass::$image_fulltext_alt in /home/indiancountrynew/public_html/templates/ja_wall/html/com_content/article/default.php on line 167
"/>

by Kristine Shotley
News From Indian Country

We have turned the calendar corner in to yet another new year. Woo-hoo. My personal, if cynical, belief is straight out of Janis Joplin’s live album. “It’s all the same #$^*X**@! day, ma-an!” In other words, there is no tomorrow, no yesterday, only the right now. And that is how I live my life. The way I see it, as awful/wonderful as our world is, personal and collective, the Creator meant it to be this way. We do have free will, I’m not going to say we cannot improve things or better our souls. That is in fact what I believe we are here for, on this crazy, spinning little blue blip called Earth. That said, I hope your new year is fantastic.

My family just celebrated my bro-in-law Pete’s birthday. He had the good sense to be born on December 21st. I love the solstice times of year, and would much rather honor those times than a religion I don’t practice. The family ended up at the loco Mexican cantina in a private party room and danced, sang, laughed, yelled and a good time was had by all. My nephew Jerone summed up the night by proclaiming this: his Gami, Naomi, was the only person who, and I quote, “maintained her dignity” (now we’re all mad at Jerone). Just kidding. I think we impressed the Mexican personnel, because they all had to file in to see what all the whooping and hollering was about. And you know them Mexicans are famous for knowing how to party.

My son Steve told us that in some states a gathering of five or more Indians is considered a “War Party.” Well, let me tell ya, we were writing a new treaty that night. We want our back rent paid up, now–in cash. We plan to recover stolen real estate and probably herd all the descendants of the Turtle Island invaders to reservations in the major cities and see what happens.

I’ll write a grant request to study their dying culture.

My friend Melissa told me that she has this friend who wanted to receive my column and is giving him a subscription for the holiday. I called her recently and told her the latest miz-adventure in my life, and said I don’t make this stuff up. Even though I am the most boring, laid back and forgettable person you may ever meet, I don’t make nothing up. It’s true. Well all except “The Moosie Chronicles” which I have repeated over and over again, is fiction. That leads me in to my next story.

Now, I know for a fact that you all who read my column have seen COPS, that FOX show on the telly. I have to backtrack. My Mom recently told me I actually lived in Rezberry when I was but a wee one (I don’t remember). I grew up a “city Indian” for those of you who don’t know, and therefore had no “rez cred” to speak of. Now I do.

Wanna hear what happened? Of course you do! I was innocently watching my favorite football team, the Minnesota Vikings, (don’t ask) and I noticed my beloved little rez dog named Anubis had broken his leash. “Ah dog poop!” I remember saying before I sent out my son Steve and his girlfriend Ashley to go get him. They came back fifteen minutes later, dog-less. Ashley told me that the gargantuan pink behemoth female person down the road was outside screeching at them, saying in a lot of hateful, vicious words that my dog was history. This thing has been harassing me since I moved to Rezberry.

Well, that was it. She has threatened me, my Mother, my Son, my very existence. I figured that we were all able to defend ourselves, so I let it go. Then, then! she went for my dog, and that was it! Anubis can’t defend his furry adorable self against pure evil so I booted up and went to save him. I had his freshest dog bone in my pocket. Well... let me just say that I am going to be in the Blueberry Blabster for having been attacked with a dog bone, and seventeen squads cars came to assist a cat-tastrophe and took pictures.

I thought that since my antagonist was older than me, no matter the vast poundage and height, that fellow Rezberrians’ would “talk about me.” Turns out I am a hero, and my family is proud of me. That will be my journal memory of this past year. I can only hope that you have one as memorable. Write me and let me know.

Like I said, I don’t ever have to make anything up.

Shouts outs to my family, especially my Gramma Rose, Mike, Pedro, Melissa, Jim Northrup, Wade Keezer, and so many other special people. Keep doing what you do. It’s like my Unk Gene always used to say, “It ain’t easy being Indian, but it’s fun!” I know he was there with us.

0
0
0