The other night reading ghostdancer’s diary, I was overcome with rage, not anger, pure out and out rage such as I have not known in many years.

  It was not at the diary, it was about the treatment of the Native American Human Beings and the general American Public, in relation to current and past events against human rights.

  It brought back a memory, of a time 33 years ago when I took my brother’s body home for burial on his reservation in Wisconsin. He was a Menominee Indian, and we had served together in the Marine Corps, and in every sense of the word, we were Brothers. Not by the same parents, but both our bloods flowed through each other’s veins, from transfussion’s after combat injuries, and spiritual bonds. We had shared everything, food, shelter, crying, laughing, life, soul spirits, and death.

  When I arrived in their hometown, I was greeted by the elders of the tribe, and his sister, and they made me a part of the family.  I stayed on the reservation with his grandfather, grandmother, and a uncle.

  I only had my uniform with me, for the luggage was lost during the flight, so his sister offered to take me to town to buy some clothing. We traveled into the little town and she pointed me towards the clothing store as we passed it walking down the street. We were busy talking about our brother, and his life, and before we knew it, we had entered the store when she stopped abruptly and whirled out the door. Just then I noticed a man approaching at a very fast pace from across the store with his arm extended and a finger pointing towards the door. I turned to see her standing back on the street with a look of terror on her face, and I asked, “what is wrong” She replied, “we are not allowed in the white man’s store”
I then turned to the man approaching and he was saying in an elevated voice, “you KNOW better”.

  At that time I went totally black inside. I mean I did not know where I was, nor what I was doing, all I remember was them pulling me off that man, and another for I was truly going to kill them, make no mistake about it.

  I had just returned from 4 years in the jungles, with my brother always at my side, and now with his greiving sister at my side, and they, (the Menominee and all Native Americans,the only true Americans) were not allowed to go to a public store? In my mind, we had been fighting and dieing, for what we truly beleived in, Rights, Freedom, Democracy, not just ours, but for our country and the Peoples Republic of South Vietnam. It was a very Idealistic time. I was devastated at this action by the white people in that town, and in later years, all of our counrty, for we are all, Americans

  They hustled me back to the reservation, and tucked me away in a log cabin, where I remained until the funeral, and then the flight back to base. Nothing was ever said about the incident in town, but when I got back to the reservation, there was a group of the elders that stayed with me, and we talked for two days, and then the third day, I was honored with a ceremony accepting me into their clan. “Wolf Clan” I remained on the reservation for a little over a week, and found true respect for the Human Beings.

  So the other night reading ghostdancer’s diary, it hit me again, that black rage, like so many years ago, and I had to STOP. I knew if I let that overcome me again, it would do harm, to me. For at that time I remembered what an old friend of many years, a great Choctaw medicine man had taught me about my heritage, (Cherokee) and my spirit guides. I went back to my Ancestor’s folk lore, and here is part of what keeps me going:

  Cherokee Lore
An old Indian Grandfather said
to his grandson who came to him
with anger at a friend who had
done him an injustice……..

Let me tell you a story. I too,
at times, have felt a great
hate for those that have taken
so much, with no sorrow for what
they do. But hate wears you
down, and does not hurt your enemy.

It is like taking poison and
wishing your enemy would die.
I have struggled with these
feelings many times.

He continued……

It is as if there are two
wolves inside me;
One is good and does no harm.
He lives in harmony with all
round him and does not take
offense when no offense was
intended. He will only fight
when it is right to do so,
and in the right way. He saves
all his energy for the right
fight.

But the other wolf, ahhh!

He is full of anger.
The littlest thing will set
him into a fit of temper. He
fights everyone, all the time,
for no reason.

He cannot think because his
anger and hate are so great.
It is helpless anger, for his
anger will change nothing.

Sometimes it is hard to live
with these two wolves inside
me, for both of them try to
dominate my spirit.

The boy looked intently into
his Grandfather’s eyes and asked…

Which one wins, Grandfather?

The Grandfather smiled and
quietly said……

The one I feed.

  Now, some of your may know why my comment was short, and strange, but I could not feed the wrong wolf, anymore.

  I have seen many diaries, and comments about the effect current events are having on so many, their family, and loved ones, and it is a time to bond, and not a time to disband, for all of us who know what is truly right, and what is wrong.

  So let us feed the good wolf, and stay the true path for our people. For at the end of the journey, there will be light.

  Mitakuye Oyasin

  Wado Ghostdancer

                                Wolf