Welcome To The Middle Of Nowhere blog

Welcome...

To my life

To my world

To my chaos

To my whirl

To my heart

To my creativity

To my view

To my nativity

To my drum

To my song

To my rights

To my wrongs

To my love

To my dreams

To my passion

Life is...as it seems.

~dlh~

This poem is a re~post that was inspired by Yardy. She went lurking way back in my blogs and she inspired me to re~post this by saying this "This is like the perfect thing for people to read when they first join your friends list.:)" Her words. So I decided to repost it and welcome you all to the middle of nowhere...again.

I wrote that poem last December when I was at a health convention for my job. I think I was supposed to be learning something, but I blogged in my notebook to keep me awake instead. So thanks Yardy for blog-reminiscing with me

On being A Skin Part 1

The following blog contains the opinions of one skin...me. They do not reflect the opinions of all skins everywhere. It is also a repost from my old 360 blog, so some of the hyperlinks may not work, that is if anyone really does click on those, lol.

as an Indian, ad-libbing during a Thanksgiving play]

Wednesday: "Wait, we can not break bread with you. You have taken the land which is rightfully ours. Years from now my people will be forced to live in mobile homes on reservations. Your people will wear cardigans, and drink highballs. We will sell our bracelets by the road sides, and you will play golf, and eat hot h'ors d'ourves. My people will have pain and degradation. Your people will have stick shifts. The gods of my tribe have spoken. They said do not trust the pilgrims, especially Sarah Miller. And for all of these reasons I have decided to scalp you and burn your village to the ground."

That was from the movie The Addams Family Values. I remember when I first saw that I was like, should I be offended? Then I was like, why? It's the truth.

"Dana, my lonehill from the west. I think you're a wonderful blogger who has open your doors with a peek into your "western" world. You have done a great deal of shedding away my stereotypes of the West and the American Indians. Before, I had grand Bonanza images and Roy Rogers wonderments which have all been diminished. Thanks. *grin*"

That was a comment from Eddo the other day in this blog. It is amazing that some people do have these stereotypes still to this day. Once when I worked mail order for a native arts and crafts store, The Sioux Trading Post, I had a TV show from Japan call me. The viewer had just saw Dances With Wolves and they had a few questions for me. The standard, "How is it to live in a Teepee?" "Do you still ride horses?" "Do you hunt buffalo" If any of you are wondering the answer for all of those is NO.

I see people that do beadwork, sell their native crafts and have a story for every piece. It is always so romantic in a way, "oh I had a dream or vision of this design." or "The little triangle here represent a mountain by a lake and where the eagles live"

People eat that up. I wish I could say I dream up designs. I think them up. I don't sit on a hill and dream of them. Actually as much as beading strains my eyes the last thing I want to do is dream of it.

I once had a friend who was a pothead and would go to work stoned. He would bullshit the tourists for everything he sold, like holding a dreamcatcher above a pregnant womens belly and telling her she was going to have a boy because it spun to the west. Man, did he have the sales.

We are Indian, some like to be called Native, which to me can mean you are from anywhere. Everyone is Native to somewhere. I don't care for the term Native American because some people get all upset and say "well I was born here too." I know the whole deal with the word Indian, but I don't mind it. We call ourselves "Skins." It is one of those words only a true skin, born and raised on the reservation knows. Only real skins call each other skin. It is like a test you pass. Once when I was bartending, the most handsome skin (I thought) came up to me. He had that slow, warm, wonderful Oklahoma accent, that reminds me of honey pouring. He asked for a Budweiser, I was like "Yeah he could be a skin?" Then he leaned over and said in that sexy drawl, "You a skin?" I was like "Yes." then I knew he was a skin. He smiled at me with the most wonderful teeth that any IHS dental clinic would be proud of. That is what I mean by skins identifying each other. We always have people coming up to us and say "Well my great great grandma on my moms side was a Cherokee princess." I always respond in my smart ass way, "Well my great great grandma on my moms side was from France." When they say "So" I am like "Exactly." Just a note for anyone who may have heard that story about their relatives being princesses. Indians didn't have royalty....still don't. The government of the people in North America was democratic, much like the one today. A chief was not a king. His son didn't automatically step up unless elected.

You have the city skins who are always trying to identify with that side of them. They hang blankets and pictures of chiefs on their walls. Then you have the rez skins who hang blankets for curtains and maybe sold their pics of chiefs to their relatives from the city.

Being a skin in this day and age is just like being anyone else, regardless of what people think, we pay taxes, we watch football, we bet, we have our gay and lesbians, we have whores, we have saints, we have virgins, (huh?)we have smokers and non smokers, we have alcoholism and sobriety, smartasses and dumbasses, we have social drinkers and non drinkers, we have athletes and diabetics, we have bitches and we have good people. Really being a skin is like being any other people. So we may be a bit more spiritual, yes we are. But that doesn't mean we are saints. Or we see the future. Or we can tell you what to do with your life. (I mean I can, I can totally bullshit and make people believe me, but that would get old and boring after awhile.) Then you wouldn't know the real me.

I have titled this blog "On Being a Skin" I will continue it someday, so you all know what it is really like to be a skin...especially when I get moved back to the reservation.

This was a blog I wrote a while back that offended, of all people, one of my best friends. Jase, I am not re-posting this to piss you off. I am only re-posting it because I still feel this way. As for the mascot issue, I feel there are many, many more pressing issues to do with Indian Country today, than worry about some mascot that offends me. Like I said I don't care. In fact, I wore my Cleveland Indians jersey because of the fact that it said Indians. And like I said about the North Dakota Fightin Sioux, it is better than being called the Docile Sioux. The following is a blog from last March.

Ok, so I am putting this out there, I hope nobody gets offended or pissed off, if you do then thats your fault for letting me control your emotions. Yes I am Native American/Indian...whatever. The tribe is Oglala Lakota Sioux, I do beadwork, I sell it wholesale in bulk to retail shops. I do NOT make gold chains, 18KT, I don't even own one. I cannot make a dress, I don't even wear them. I hardly ever do special orders because I have so many orders backed up right now that I will not stop, take time out to make one pair of earrings and send them to Spain and wait for a check, (I still think that was a prank, didn't work) I am from a spiritual and cultural people, that doesn't mean I know why the wind blows in the trees, or why eagles fly. I don't know why you hear drums....maybe there's a Jumanji board around somewhere. I don't care if Kansas City calls its team Chiefs or Atlanta call thier team the Braves. I am not even a fan of either anyway, I like the Vikings and don't see anybody complaining about that. I am actually kind of evil minded and come from a long line of evil minded women. I am not Pocahontas and don't run around with a racoon and sing to the Blue Corn Moon, though that would be damn funny if I did. I am just me, I embrace my culture, am proud of my heritage, do my beadwork, and am evil minded, so don't ask why the sun looked red today, I will tell you it's because your eyes are bloodshot. By the way, as I am typing this it looks like I am pissed off, I just want you all to know I am smiling.

Here are some skins from South Dakota, a family that form a band called Indigenous. Check them out, they ROCK!

The Rag Doll

Summer break had just started. I was on a mad reading frenzy, as the old farmhouse we lived in had a small house in the back with a ton of first edition books. My days were spent with Louisa May Alcott, Nancy Drew, and Trixie Belden. It was the summer after 3rd grade. Other than going to Montana later that summer...there wasn't much to do. It was too hot to go exploring much and besides...all Travis and I did was fight.

He came up to the little house I was reading in.

"Let's do something." he said. He was 7 and I was 9.

"What?" I looked up from "Little Women" and spit my sunflower seeds out.

"Let's go exploring. I'm tired of playing here."

"Where's Behshid?" I asked about our step-dad.

"He's cooking...he won't notice we're gone" he said. I thought about it, but decided to tell him we were going for a walk. I didn't want to worry him. He had just fed us lunch and my mom was still at work. I told him we would be playing in the field by the Cottonwoods. He told me to be careful of snakes and we started on our journey.

"Where did you want to go?" I asked Trav. To this day it amazes me how old we were, or young for that matter. And that I let him take charge all the time. Of course it was no secret...he could beat me up since he was 5. But I never was a fighter....until I psycho-ed out on him, then he would run.

"Let's go to the creek." he said. I didn't care...it was so hot and the creek was great. Nice, cool and so much adventure down there. Our dogs Skippy and Pup were with us. Pup was actually our neighbor's dog...we ended up adopting him later. His real name was Taco. Anyway...they barked and ran ahead as Travis and I made our way down the cattle path to the creek. The creek we had been to before with Behshid. Wild grapes grew there and mint leaves. He picked the peppermint for tea all the time. When we got in the shade of the trees, we started following the small creek. It zig zagged everywhere. When we came across a fallen tree, we would cross it to the other side. We played war...with guns we made out of sticks . We played pirates. Soon we were bored and decided to go to the abandoned farmhouse up the hill on the other side of the creek.

I don't know how long the farmhouse was abandoned...everything was still in there. I always used to wonder where the family had gone to just leave everything in there. Of course it looked like people had gone in there....and helped themselves to whatever. It was trashed, for the most part. We sat on the old chairs and looked at the old magazines......I looked for books. We opened every cupboard and drawer. Pretty soon this became boring too. Then we noticed a bedroom with the door closed. We had never even seen it before. We came here with Behshid before, there was tons of peppermint growing here. I had a bunch of it on the old table in the kitchen to take home to him.

Travis walked up and opened this door. I walked up behind him. It was a little girls room.....I didn't focus too much on the room. I seen something on a chair in the corner. It was a Raggedy Ann doll. I used to have one, but lost it. I wanted it so bad. I started towards it....when Trav hollered at me.

"Dana...NO!" he scared me...I stopped.

"What?" I asked, wondering why he was so mad.

"Don't take it....look." He was looking at the room with wide eyes. I followed his gaze. I couldn't see what he was so scared or mad about. Then I noticed. The bed was made. There was curtaions on the windows and they weren't busted out. The doll was on the chair. There wasn't stuff laying all over. This room, out of all rooms, hadn't been touched in all the years this house sat there. There wasn't even dust anywhere. The curtains were blowing. I looked at Travis and he was looking at me.

"Let's go." I said. We ran out of there. It took us no time to cross the creek and make our way home. I think the house was maybe a mile from ours, but we made it back fast. I even forgot the peppermint I picked for Behshid. He was looking out the door when we came back.

"I was just going to look for you...where did you go." he said.

"Just exploring." I told him.

"Well stay here now, your mom will be home soon." he walked back inside.

"Did you see it?" I asked Travis and he nodded.

"Do you know what I am talking about?" I asked him again.

"Yes" he said

"Well what then?" I asked again, getting impatient.

"The curtains were moving.....and the windows were shut" he said.

My heart was racing...we had to think of another game to play to calm down. To this day, I can't believe we were 7 and 9.

You can call it an overactive child's imagination....but something just wasn't right in there.