AHA! A possible explanation for my recent Indian chief dream (see my mom’s comment at the bottom). I completely forgot about that! Actually, catching that sheepshead won us the “fishing tournament.” I remember being extremely proud about the fact that we used small rock crabs that I smashed with my dad’s “abalone prybar” (a flat piece of iron with rubber grip I think may still be rusting in our garage or the backyard shed) to catch that fish. The funny thing is, before we landed that one, something big hit our bait and nearly jerked me off the rocks we were fishing from as I held onto the surfcasting rod for dear life! I will always wonder about that first big “one that got away.”
Yeah, the YMCA Indian Guides trip to Catalina… Awesome. As I sit here and reminisce, more memories from that trip are coming back to me… I remember the brown and yellow dome tent we slept in, the first tent we ever owned with sectioned (but not joined with elastic cord as has become the norm) fiberglass tent poles; you had to be careful because they would leave invisible fiberglass splinters in your hands if you weren’t careful that would itch and be sore for days… One of the other fathers brought Kansas City strips to barbeque on the propane grill for all the other dads. My dad told me it was ironic that some of the other dads thought it fit to bring whiskey to drink around the campfire at an Indian outing, a reference I wouldn’t understand for a few more years… That propane tank bust a seal the next morning when someone hooked it up, and it made a loud screeching noise for a good minute or so. I remember taking cover behind a steel trash can, sure it would explode.
Of course, in this politically fucking retarded age of college sports teams having to be renamed, etc., I am quite sure the Indian Guides are no more. Probably renamed to “Gaia’s Earth-Friendly Vegetarian Recyclable Co-op of Homogenous World Heritage,” or some such bullshit. Lemme google this shit to make sure – yep. The YMCA Indian Guides are no more. What a damn shame.
And in a way, what irony! The Indian Guides made Indians cool to all the kids who participated in the programs! These days, the word “Indian reservation” evokes only one thing: Casinos. This makes me very sad. In fact, I’m so far behind the times, I don’t really know if the term “Indian reservation” is racist or not! I certainly hope not.
Raising a family in Thailand // Documenting Issan food, culture, music, and people
It was probably a torafugu.
Gashira.
I went on a short vacation to Asheville, NC a couple years ago where close by there’s an Indian Reservation and (subsequently) a Harrah’s casino. It was certainly an exercise in extremes: the reservation is nothing more than a ghetto and a strip mall mixed up in a blender selling “authentic” Native American trinkets that are all inexplicably made in China while the Casino is a towering (literally) example of excess and indulgence, stir-fried in a marinade of gaudy neon-glow. Plus, if i remember correctly, there was not a single Native American working there.
Wouldn’t it be terrible if poverty was the gift that Mr. Political Correctness Clause brought to the natives on Christmas.
It’s not racist, don’t worry. At least it doesn’t bother me and I was born on the rez. Bisous!!! ~m
It’s not racist, don’t worry. At least it doesn’t bother me and I was born on the rez. Bisous!!! ~m
Indian Guides and Indian Maidens were cool groups which aspired to allow fathers and their sons or fathers and their daughters to participate in creative activities that taught positive values and beliefs which came from Native American tribes. Was it the age of technology (videogames, computers) which did away with such simple pleasures as campfires, storytelling and carving balsa wood derby race cars?