Death, Drunkenness, Driving, Dread, Disgust and Despair - and not one ounce of Courage

.
After consoling Mathew at the morgue, Wilson and I visited the brownstone apartment building. Death by hanging does not always happen quickly. In a situation where someone in a noose is dropped from sufficient height, the person may die quickly from a snapped neck, but without height, the person may strangle for several minutes, gagging and suffering before finally succumbing.

As I stepped into the closet where Julia, who was taller then I, had hanged herself, the wooden rod from which the clothing hung just touched the top of my head. She could have saved herself simply by standing up.
Did she hate herself that much? How could anyone hate themselves that much! How deep her despair must have been! Oh, why didn't any of us realize the extent of her suffering? That beautiful girl! Why didn't we visit her? Why didn't I just come and talk to her, be her friend, take her to get her license like I had promised? Something!

That evening, we got a call from a detective in the emergency room at the medical center. Roger had been stabbed in the chest.

"Oh, No," I said. "His sister Julia just died!"
"Julia died?" The detective asked, "Do we know how Julia died?"
"Oh, yes. She was upset about their sister Wanda's accident and she hanged herself".
"Wanda?" He asked hesitantly, "And do we know what happened to Wanda?"
"Yes, she fell down a flight of stairs in a wheelchair and re-injured her back". The detective paused. "Do we know how Wanda fell down the stairs?"
I paused. "Yes. She was upset that Julia didn't want to her help her down the stairs, so she threw herself down them."

At this point the detective must have been wondering if there were some kind of conspiracy against the family. I think, in some backward way, many of us hoped there was. It was too much to imagine that all this could happen to one family in one week's time. Worse - that they had all done it to themselves. It would have been a morbid comfort to have some other explanation.

The social worker in care of Julia's little brother Bradley released him into my care so that he could attend the funeral. I actually had to work that day and couldn't go to the funeral, but didn’t tell her that because I figured it wouldn't matter whether it was Wilson or I watching Bradley.

However, as it turned out Wilson volunteered to take Julia's body back up north to the reservation in our van and Bradley was shuffled into his mother's car. Wilson fell apart up there and began drinking again and Yvonne did not return from the funeral on the day promised. When the social worker called looking for Bradley, I was alone at my house and had to confess I didn't know where Bradley was or when he would be returned.

I was never allowed to take him again.

For the most part, I had learned to live with crisis in this family. But this week had been too much. Once I learned that Wilson was drinking, I couldn't eat or sleep. My stomach churned constantly. I knew that Andrew and I were going to be on our own again. Because I couldn't eat or sleep, I didn’t think I’d be able to properly care for Andrew either, so I called the Crisis Nursery to see if I could place him there for 48 hours. The counselor, one whom I’d never gotten along with, suggested I put Andrew in a foster home. I hung up on her. I just needed help right now, for this moment; not forever.

To my relief Wilson came back a week before our wedding reception. However, he told me he'd have to go back up in a few days to bring Dale and Tammy down. When he left, Cheri went with him. I was nervous about him leaving but couldn't change it. On their way out of town, Andrew and I rode with them as far as my sisters house where we were going to spend the night. On the way I told Cheri about my new pants, blouse, and white blazer that was missing. "Misty was the last to wear them," I said. "She probably took them," Cheri responded.

When Wilson didn't get back on the day he said he would, my stomach again began to churn. I knew I should probably cancel the whole reception, but canceling would be so embarrassing. There was still a chance I was wrong and everything would be okay.

Of course, everything wasn't okay. Wilson rolled his van load of people into my dad's driveway late the night before the party. The entire vehicle reeked of beer. Wilson was drunk. So drunk, he'd allowed 16-year-old Cheri to drive.

"I don't want Andrew around all of these drunks," I told him.
Cheri answered, "Well, we grew up watching my dad drink and if its good enough for us, it's good enough for your kid!"
"Yeah, but look how you turned out," I responded.
"Get in the car," Wilson growled.
"I'll drive the rest of the way to our house," I answered.
"No. Cheri's driving. She drove this far and she'll drive the rest of the way."

I was disgusted, but was too embarrassed to go back into the house and let my family know everyone was drunk. Maybe things could still work out, I hoped.

Driving the open highway is one thing I suppose, but through the city is another and Cheri didn't have any idea how to use the side mirrors of the van.
"Look out!" I hollered, "There's a car right next to you!"
"Shut up," she spat.
"I'm so sick of you and Misty. All you guys do is come in and steal from me. Misty better get those clothes back to me, too."
"She don't have your clothes."
"You said she took them!"
"I did not!"

We made it home and people continued to arrive all that night. How was I to know that when I sent a couple of invitations to Wilson's sisters, forty of his relatives would show up at my house to stay?

And wedding receptions to this crowd meant heavy drinking. While Elaine and her crew were fine, many others I knew only by name and had to tell them over and over again that they could not drink at my house. Despairing, I stayed awake as long as I could, but eventually fell asleep about 4 am.

The next morning, I found Paul sleeping on the floor. He was one of the children that I had given a bed to, but apparently James, now out of jail, and his wife, Gloria, had come in after I had fallen asleep and kicked him out of the bed.

Sickened that Gloria - the woman that beat her own child to death - was in my home at all, I told Paul never again, in my house, to give up a bed that I had given him.

Sure, I could talk tough to Paul, but wouldn't / didn’t say a word to James or Gloria.

Wilson went to the store that morning with James. When he didn't return, I grew more desperate. The party was in just three hours, what happens if he’s drinking again? What if he doesn’t even show up? I had no way to go look for him.

Then Gloria offered to drive me. My sickened feelings about her and what she did to her baby would have to take a back seat to my sickened dread about Wilson. I needed help. After driving around a little while, we finally spotted Wilson’s van at Arthur's bar.

Coming out of the bright sunlight into the dark room, it took my eyes a moment to adjust before I recognized Wilson, his back to me, playing pool. His beer sat on the edge of the table. Walking quickly up behind him, I swung my purse and smacked it down on his head. He swung around. Seeing me, he started to laugh. The most frustrating thing was there was nothing I could say that he didn't already know. There were no words that could make any difference.

James got into Gloria's car and followed Wilson and me in the van. Back at the house I didn’t know what to do. I was supposed to go up to Dad’s house to help my sisters get the yard ready but I didn't want to leave my house to these people. No one was here to watch my things. Elaine was busy making a dish to bring to the party, but I knew I couldn't trust the others, including Wilson.

I was leaving my home unprotected. But my sisters were waiting for me and I couldn't call them and tell them anything was wrong. So I thought I had no choice. I took Andrew and left for Dad’s house.

And When They Were Older, They Would Not Depart From It

.
In February 1986, because Misty was angry with her mother and didn't want to live there, and because Cheri wouldn't let Misty live at her place anymore, Misty moved in with us. We made it clear this was only on condition she straighten up and go to school. We did our best to help her. We first tried enrolling her in the Catholic high school her best friend was attending. We took her for an entrance exam, but she didn't pass.

"I'm sorry," the administrator told us, "we'd like to take her but her comprehension scores are way below our requirements. We simply don't have the necessary facilities to help her. I'd advise you to take her for testing."

At the Community College, Misty tested at the third grade reading level.

"Take her home and encourage her to read as much as possible. There are also some reading programs that you could enroll her in. They do cost a little, but if you can afford it..."

Running out of options, we enrolled her in an alternative school down on Lincoln Avenue. I encouraged her, told her she was beautiful and surprised her with a rose on her dresser for her 16th birthday. I took her portrait to a modeling agency. Louise Nelson saw the portrait and told me she thought Misty was very photogenic.

But living with Misty wasn't easy. She wouldn't do anything she didn't feel like doing. The only time she would do the dishes without a fight was on my payday.

_________________________________________________________

On Halloween I took Joy and Andrew with me to a party at the Crisis Nursery. I'd sewed Joy a "Strawberry Shortcake" costume. Andrew I made into Mickey Mouse. I found a ruffled slip for Joy and black tights for Andrew at the nursery. I was able to get all kinds of accessories for children at the Crisis Nursery, from clothing to diapers to baby bottle nipples. Some of it was given to me, some of it I stole. Funny how upset I was with Misty's thieving but thought nothing of my own.

Stealing from the Crisis Nursery at night wasn't hard. I worked with only one other person and all I had to do was wait for that person to fall asleep. Then during my normal duty of restocking from the basement, I would take extras out the side door to my car. Some of it I stored for my own use, other stuff I took up north and gave it to Dale and Tammy for their three kids.

The small one bedroom tract house they now lived in was part of a quadroplex originally built to house an elderly person. Not being high on the list of tribal government cronies, this apartment had been given to Dale's family until another home opened up.

The house was usually littered with clothing and thick with cigarette smoke. They never had much food, and the kids slept on the floor wrapped in dirty blankets. I brought them toothpaste and toothbrushes from the nursery every time I came, and then usually went out and bought other little things they needed such as toilet paper. Sometimes I'd help Tammy take the blankets and stuffed toys down to the launder-mat. At night, I curled up with the kids on the floor and slept.

While sitting on the hood of the car outside Dale's house one afternoon, Lila told me she would die soon and had already chosen her casket.
"There is no reason to live," she said while looking at the ground.
"What about your two kids?" I asked.
"No one needs me."

___________________________________________________

Back home, Roland called the alternative school. Misty had been going a month or so now and we wanted to see how she was doing.
"She hasn't been here."
"What do you mean? We drop her off every day!"
"She hides behind the door until you leave and then takes off."

After a particularly bad day with Misty, I urged Roland to go on a drive with me. As we went around a lake, I told him I could not marry him if I could not start saying no to his family. He wanted to get married, I guess, because he told me then that I could start standing up for myself.
.

Children are Expedient: Nothing more

.
Having watched the young dancers at the powwows for several years, I was impressed. I imagined Andrew as a fancy dancer. Wanting him to have a chance to learn, I called the Indian Center and was told about a child's drum and dance group meeting every week at the health center. Roland wasn't interested, so I took Andrew by myself.

The room was lined with parents sitting on folding chairs against the wall and their children sitting on their laps or standing near. I found a place to sit and held Andrew in front of me. I was surprised at the discomfort I felt. Having been with Roland for 6 years, I no longer felt conspicuous around Indians. But there was something here that wasn’t right. I looked around for a familiar face, but my eyes met only hostile stares. I understood immediately I was not wanted. What I couldn't understand though was with all of the talk about the benefits of tribal culture, why would these people chase away a white person who was trying to make sure their child stayed connected to the tribal culture? We never returned to the class.

Candis was visiting Arnold's sister on the northeast side, and Annie asked if I would drive Savannah and her up there. Driving over a bridge on Aspen Street, I slid on black ice and rammed into the rear end of a nice little car. Unfortunately, I wasn't carrying insurance.

The owner and I both got out to look at the damage. His rear fender suffered only a small, inch long crack. I was relieved. No important damage occurred. However, he seemed to think it was important and asked for my name, address and phone number. In a panic, I lied and gave him false information.

At Arnold's sister's later that afternoon, we told them about the incident. After that, I put it out of mind.

A few days later Arnold paid me to taxi Candis and him home to his “Rez”, which neighbored Salmon Lake. Candis was about ten at the time. Dorothy’s son, Troy, was visiting for a few days and rode with us. It was a cold night. The snow fell softly and silently. It was late and we all were tired. We hadn't originally intended to stop anywhere, but we had gotten a late start, and the weather had slowed us down. I couldn't drive anymore, and was glad Arnold had suggested we stop at his sister’s house.

The house we stopped at, with shoulder high snowdrifts in the driveway, was an unexpected, beautiful, ranch style home. The owner, Arnold's other sister and her husband, were obviously employed. We weren't sure if anyone was at home at first, but their 15-year-old daughter finally answered the door. After she assured Arnold it was no problem for us to stay, she led me past the kitchen and down to the end of the hall where there was a room I could use to sleep with Andrew. It was a teenage girl's room. The twin bed had a fluffy, pink comforter and the furnishings and toiletries on the dresser were that of a bubbly adolescent. I guessed it was her room. I am not sure where she and Candis were to sleep that night. Arnold and Troy slept on the living room couches.

I don't know how long I had been asleep when I heard noises in the hall. I could hear a man laughing and talking in slurred, drunken fashion, and I could hear Candis laughing and answering, "No, no, leave me alone. Don't do that!" I heard a loud thump, and suddenly the door to my room flew open. In the darkness, the man pushed Candis onto my bed, onto my legs, and began fumbling with the zipper of her pants.

In horror, I sat straight up and screamed at the top of my lungs; "Get the H--- out of here!"

The man jerked up, turned to look at me, and then dashed from the room. To my surprise, Candis started after him. Quickly, I jumped out of bed and grabbed her by the arm, "No! Not you!" I slammed the door shut and pulled Candis back to the bed, putting her in-between myself and Andrew, (who had never awakened). I wasn't going to let anyone touch her if I could help it. But I could hear the man moving around in the kitchen, getting himself something to eat. The kitchen was in between the living room and us. How will I get to Arnold and Troy for help? Who was that man? What if he comes back with a gun, mad, or scared I’ll call the cops?

Candis fell asleep after a short time, but I sat in the room with the lights on for the rest of the night, too afraid to close my eyes. After a time, I could hear the man snoring, but I was still too scared to attempt to get past him. In my mind's eye, I pictured him sitting in a chair, sleeping with his head bent and his chin on his chest. What could I do? I was too afraid to leave the room.

Candis and Andrew slept peacefully beside me.
.

Being Raised to Die

.
Wilson began working at an upholstery shop on the northeast side. It didn't pay much, but he was glad for the work. I was surprised how little trouble he had getting up with the alarm.


We signed Joy up for ballet classes in the suburb near my Dad’s. Every Saturday that fall, I dropped her off at class and went to do laundry at my dad's. We also signed Junior up with a gym near his house and paid for his and Cheri's piano lessons at the Park. In addition, Wilson and I attended most of Junior's floor hockey games and were proud when Cheri won an award in tennis.

But Misty wasn't a joiner. She had briefly been in Girl Scouts, but never asked to be part of any other program, never indicated any special interests, and we, deep into our own problems, never thought to help her find some.

Misty, like Cheri, started her real trouble after leaving elementary school and beginning junior high. There being several elementary and junior high schools in our large city, kids moving to seventh grade often found themselves surrounded by a whole new group of children. I often wondered if the pressure of a new school and the change in peer group at such an insecure age had anything to do with the troubles inner city kids had. Maybe junior high kids should be kept with the same group of children they'd gone to elementary school with, rather than shuffling the children as you would a deck of cards.

Because of Misty's truancy, the school district was now picking her up in a van every day from her mother's house and taking her to a special school. But the costly effort had no effect on her uncooperative attitude or interest in learning.
_________________________________

An Asian gang had jumped Savannah and Yvonne’s girl, Marci. Marci had gotten away, but Savannah was left. She had been gang-raped. Only thirteen, Savannah was already drinking heavily, had left school, been beaten several times, been stabbed in the throat, and had had clap (gonorrhea). I tried to get Savannah into treatment. The hospital was ready to take her, but no one in the family would help me to get her there. At the duplex Annie and Savannah were staying at with other people, (Candis was in the custody of her dad at the time.) I tried to talk Annie into helping me with Savannah.

"Well Savannah don't want to go, and if Savannah don't want to go, I can't do nothin," Annie said.

Busy at the kitchen table trying to hack a dirty cast off a little boy’s arm, she stopped a moment to take drag on her cigarette. I didn't know who the boy was. The son of the person Annie was staying with I guessed.

"Well, could we just trick her? Just tell her we're visiting someone?"

"Na-e, she won't fall for that," Annie said as she worked.

It was clear I wasn't going to get any help, so I gave up. After all, these adults were heavy drinkers and living homeless, transient lives themselves. Savannah was only a kid and wasn't near as bad off as they were, so in their minds, I was silly to suggest she needed help.

"By the way”, I said gesturing toward the boy. “How come you don't just bring him down to the hospital and have them cut that cast off? It would be easier."

"Nae, his mom don't want to bother with that."

More likely she didn't want to sober up for it or was hiding from social services.
__________________________________

One day, as I came into Wanda's duplex, Julia jumped up from the table in confusion, looked frantically around for a place to hide, and then ran into the basement. She had been sniffing paint and didn't want me to know.

Wilson and I began to talk about the troubles all the teenagers were having and wondered if there was something that we could do to make it different. For a little while, we even bandied around the idea of running a home for Indian kids. At the time, the Native American community in this city was predominately located within a two-mile radius. It was estimated there were approximately 15,500 Indians in the area. According to statistics, Native Americans had a higher infant mortality, lower education attainment, higher unemployment rates, greater incidence of poverty and disproportionately higher chemical dependency rate than other people groups in the state. Statistics said that 40% of this state’s Indians had a serious problem with alcohol, as opposed to only 8.5% of the rest of the state population. It was considered the single most serious problem Indians faced because it contributed to the three leading causes of death in adults: cirrhosis of the liver, suicide, and homicide.

And many youth were following their parents’ path.

.

Reality, Race, and the Woman who knew What Mattered

.

My daycare, which I had worried would never get going, suddenly filled up. I had eight school age children. I couldn't believe I was getting $400 a week to go play in the pool at the park. Every month I filled out a form for the welfare office reporting how many kids were in the daycare and how much I was paid. My financial worker then worked out some kind of formula and either issued a welfare check for the next month or didn't. Usually we still received some kind of check, even if small, and Andrew remained on Medicaid.


Wilson called, "Send me $100 for a bus ticket so I can come home." I wired the money right away. He received the money, but didn't come home.

When Wilson finally came home a month later, he started outpatient alcohol treatment. Once a week I went along to meet with him and his counselor. I talked about how difficult it was to live with Wilson's drinking, and Wilson complained about how I didn't clean or cook well.


Early one morning, someone pounded on our door. It was one of Wilson's friends from jail. A couple of our day care children had already arrived and were playing on the living room floor. Wilson told the guy to wait outside. Needing his shoes, Wilson ran upstairs to the bedroom, where I was dressing Andrew. He was upstairs just a moment when we heard one of the children crying. Rushing downstairs, we found the man in the house. He was stoned on something and had tripped over a baby.

"Go on! Get out! Don't you ever come around here high again!" Wilson hollered.

Later that week, Annie and others showed up on our porch with an empty bottle they wanted to fill using our outside lawn hose. It was a hot day, so I didn't see any problem with that.

"No," Wilson told her, "We're running a day care here. You go somewhere else."

"Why couldn't they fill it?" I asked him.

"They were going to spray Lysol into the water and drink it."

____________________________________________

A powwow was being held in the basement of Holy Rosary Church and the kids wanted to go. Wilson stayed home. I think he had an upholstery job to finish. So I took Junior, Joy, and Andrew by myself. This powwow was different than most. It wasn't a contest and there were no cash prizes. It was a powwow to honor the elders and children and they did something I had never seen before. After the grand entry, gifts were given out to the people, courtesy of the tribal government. Our kids stood in front of me watching in excited anticipation as the gift givers came close, then looked on in obvious disappointment as the gift givers passed them by. My guess: they weren't given gifts because the woman standing with them was the wrong color.
__________________________________________________

I was used to Indians hating white people, so it came as a surprise when I ran into an Indian woman who didn’t. One morning I opened my front door to a tall, beautiful Indian woman. She had a five-year-old son who needed day care. I proudly showed her our play equipment and described the federal food program we were on.

"This is great," she responded, "but I'd like to visit one other house to be sure. Do you know of anyone else that has an opening?"

My neighbor had asked a day earlier if we could send a child her way. I decided to give the mother that number. I was sure we'd still get the child. After all, my neighbor was white. Surely this Indian woman will decide we are the preferable daycare.

To my surprise, she chose our neighbor.

"Your neighbor had only her own two children over there, so I felt my son would get more one on one attention."

But that wasn't the only thing that struck me about this woman. A professional in her career, she was educated and self-assured. At a later date, I had an opportunity to ride with her to a Pow-wow. During the drive, she described what she saw wrong in Indian country.

"A whole generation was sent away to boarding schools. While there, they were beaten if they used their native language. But most important, they lost the opportunity to learn parenting skills from their parents. Instead, they learned their parenting skills from institutions. So we are now raising children without the benefit of parenting skills. It is going to take time to heal. But the healing can only come from within the tribal community. No one can do it for us."
.

Relax, You're on the Rez. Nothing Matters.

.
I went to visit Wilson on the reservation in late July. I couldn't stay long; my daycare finally had a child so I had to be back home on Monday. Wilson was staying at Dale's apartment in town. I didn't tell him I was coming; I just showed up.

When I arrived, a lot of people were drinking on the dirt lot that served as a yard. They told me Wilson was inside. The tiny apartment was dark and hot. I don't know how many people were there, too many to count in the dark. Wilson was sitting in a chair by the wall, his chin resting on his chest. I walked over and plopped Andrew into his lap. His head snapped up, startled. It took him a moment to realize it was Andrew on his lap, and then he looked up, grinning.

"Ohhh! Et's youu!" he slurred.

I stayed a couple of days. I didn't mind the partying. In fact, I felt comfortable. I was there helping people. I bought fruit for the kids and toilet paper for everyone else. I was needed. And during the day, Wilson and Dale were sober, having a couple beers only to ward off the shakes.

Little Wally was old enough to be learning to pee in a coffee can in Dale’s kitchen. Most of the day, he and Andrew sat in the cool black dirt outside the apartment and dug holes with spoons while the adults lounged in the shade of old elm trees. The little boys were filthy, but it didn't matter. They were happy and the adults were content to just sit and watch them.


Grandpa Walter no longer knew me. His dementia had worsened and he had begun forgetting people, starting with his most recent acquaintances. Naturally, I was one of the first he forgot. Because our relationship had died, I felt grief just as you would when someone dies physically. It’s hard to know how to act when you walk into a room and the person is still physically there. I had to stop myself from speaking to him as I used to, because he would only look at me and then back to his children, as if asking them who I was. Our relationship was gone and I had to treat it that way.

________________________________________________

Because of a car accident some time ago, Dale got an insurance settlement of $5000. He was encouraged to buy a tract house, which sold for only $1000.

"If you buy a house, you won't have to worry ever again about where your family will live."

"Nah," he answered, "I was born poor and I'll always be poor."

Dale took a whole carload of people to the go-carts and then to eat. After that, he and the others drank the rest of the money up.

_______________________________________________

Dorothy was driving around drunk. Stopping at Dale's, she slid out of the car.

"Would youse watch Paul for me?" she asked Wilson and Dale as she leaned unsteadily against the car. Paul was in the back seat, staring out the window.

"I don't have no where to go," she went on, "and he needs a place to sleep."

Wilson and Dale both shook their heads 'no'.

'Come on, bro, "she argued, "he can't be sleeping in the car."

"Well, sober up then and take care of him!" Dale admonished.

As she was leaving I pulled on Wilson's arm.

"You should have taken him. What if she gets in a wreck?"

"But if we took him, we'd end up baby-sitting for days."

__________________________________________

Wilson took Andrew hunting for an afternoon with Dale and Wally. They all piled in the car and drove through the forest for a couple hours; Dale and Wilson shared a six-pack between them. Tammy and I stayed home. Having no goals in life does have its advantages. There are no schedules to keep or deadlines to meet. Forget pressure; forget trying to pay bills. If someone comes after you for money you owe, just pick up and go somewhere else. In the meantime, don't worry about it. You can sit out on the worn, wooden stoop, feel the sun on your arm and the light breeze in your hair, and do nothing.

Well, I could pretend I had no responsibilities for only a couple days. I liked being at Dale and Tammy's and didn't want to go home, but I owned a daycare, so I finally left, driving home alone with Andrew.
.

Open the Eyes of My Heart, Lord

.
They had gone to Texas, traveling through Arkansas. Wilson called Elmer from Fayetteville, and Elmer was to come to meet them. But Wilson's friend grew impatient, and they moved on before Elmer arrived. After a brief visit in Texas, they headed north again.

_____________________________________

The elementary school called me to come and get eight-year-old Candis. Her mother had left my number as a message phone and Candis's hair was infested with lice. I arrived at the nurse's office and found Candis with a scarf around her head.

Annie had her own place now. As we drove to her mother’s apartment, I told Candis about the daycare that I was trying to start.

"Oh! I'll help you! I'll put a table by the door and take the money for you!"


I hadn't been to their apartment before. It was above a downtown bar. Candis led me through an old door and up a filthy flight of stairs. The stairwell stunk of stale beer and urine. In the hallway, wine bottles and dirty diapers littered the floor. At the end of the hall, the window was broken. I stopped to glance out and could see little children in dirty pajamas playing in the alley. One wore a winter stocking cap pulled almost over his eyes as he swung a stick around and threw it in the air.

Annie's apartment was bare. As I'd seen many times before, a mattress served as the bed and there was little other furniture. Annie smiled a greeting and we talked a few minutes. She was embarrassed about the lice. I felt for her. I loved Annie and in all the time I'd known her, had never sensed hardness in her heart nor felt maliciousness. Despite all the troubles and as mad as I got sometimes, she seemed to be honestly unable to turn things around. Despite all I'd seen in her life, I never condemned Annie.

And although I had seen hardness in Wilson, for some reason I never believed that was really him either.

______________________________________________________

Roger asked if he could stay with me. I didn't mind. A handsome boy at eighteen years old, he was one of the few young people in Wilson’s family to have graduated from High school. In addition, he’d had a chance to go to visit Russia with the school and he took it. That was impressive. If anyone was going to make it, I was sure he would. I wanted to help him. 

So I helped him fill out the admission form for the Community College and get a learners permit for a driver’s license. In addition, I took him over to the United Parcel Service warehouse to apply for a job.

Once he got the job, I drove to the warehouse daily to drop him off and pick him up. After two weeks of work, he got his first paycheck. Then he quit.

"Aren't you going to work today?" I asked him after he'd missed a couple days.

"Nah, I don't feel like it. I don't like the job."

Frustrated, I sat down beside him. I could lead him to water, but I couldn't make him drink.

"Roger. I'm not your mom. I can't have you lying around here. If you want to lay around, maybe you should go back and live with Yvonne."

Roger left. He never did go to college. I don't know if he got his driver’s license.

.

"God, please help us. Please save our family."

.
Andrew was a happy, outgoing kid. One of his favorite games was running and hiding behind the living room chair as soon as he heard his dad's car pull up outside. Wilson then came in and made a big deal about trying to find him. Andrew would squeal and laugh when his dad finally crept over and grabbed him.

When Andrew played outside, I had to keep an eye on him. Turn your back for just a minute and he'd be up on the neighbor's porch ringing their doorbell. On a Friday in early May, Wilson and I worked all day penning Andrew in with a fence around the yard. Andrew and I then went to spend that night at my dad's. Cheri called me there the next day, upset. While we were gone, Wilson had gone out drinking. Cheri's broken voice betrayed the strong mask she usually wore; she wanted me to do something to stop him.

"We were all over to Verlin's house," she told me, "Everyone was drinking, then my dad asked me to tie the tourniquet for him while he shot up. It was my 16th birthday and he was asking me to help him shoot up!"

"What happened? Why is he doing this when everything was going so good?"

"He said he felt under pressure." she answered without explanation, "He also plans on going to Texas on Monday."

I felt the color leave my face. Why would he want to go off and leave us? Not knowing what else to do, I called Elmer Dovetail.

"Don't be scared,” he said, "God will watch over your family. Believe it, and thank God for already having helped you."

I tried to do that. I told myself that I wasn't scared about what Andrew would do without Wilson; I wasn't scared that he wouldn't come home. I told myself that I wasn't scared that he would lie to me some more, that he didn't love me, or that I was going to lose my best friend, my son's father.

"God, please help us and Wilson. Please save our family."

It turned out one of Wilson's friends had a large amount of money in the bank and the possibility for fun and travel was too much to pass up. Two days later Wilson gathered some things and left for Texas. With no one to talk to, I wrote a letter to Andrew:

"If he was having problems, I would have listened. He didn't give me a chance. He didn't give me any warning. Now it's too late, because once he starts drinking its almost impossible to get him to quit. I wish I could stop him somehow. I wish I could make him come back. I wish he wasn't an alcoholic. I do love him.
I pray, but he still drinks. So maybe prayers don't work. Maybe if I had more faith the prayers would work.
I haven't eaten since Sunday. I can't eat when I'm scared."

A couple days later Andrew heard a car across the street. He squealed with glee, and ran behind the living room chair, waiting. After several minutes, he peeked out from behind the chair and called, "Daddy! Come get me!"

"Daddy isn't here Andrew."

Andrew was silent a moment, and then stepped out, his lip quivering and eyes beginning to water, "Where's Daddy?"
.

Happy Birthday to an Exceptional Man!

Roland John Morris, Sr.
July 1, 1945 – June 9, 2004

Roland Morris, Sr., 58, ascended to heaven on Wednesday, June 9th after a four year fight with cancer. Roland, a member of the Minnesota Chippewa Tribe, was born July 1, 1945, in Cass Lake, MN. Ojibwe was his first language, and he grew up fishing, hunting, and gathering wild rice with family and friends. He also played intramural basketball, worked hard in the woods, spent time in a foster home and various jails, drank, smoked, and played guitar with friends at various bars.

Roland went to college in Kansas and was a draftsman for a short time before becoming an upholsterer. While he struggled with many difficulties in his early years, he was a perfectionist with upholstery and throughout his life performed his craft well.

After a life changing spiritual experience with Jesus in 1988, Roland moved his second family to Ronan, Montana to be near his cousin and Christian evangelist, Frank (Scotty) Butterfly. There, in 1992, Roland and his wife, Elizabeth, created Montana’s first patient transportation service, Mission Valley Medicab. They also helped instigate the Montana Passenger Carriers Association and the charitable organization, Valley Missions, Inc., all without tribal assistance.

Roland taught his children about wild ricing, hunting, fishing, and a little of the Ojibwe language. But the biggest, strongest desire of his heart was that his children, grandchildren, and entire extended family come to the saving knowledge and acceptance of Jesus Christ. Having watched many friends and relatives die physically, spiritually, and emotionally from alcoholism, violence, and suicide, Roland could no longer stand aside and do nothing. He was concerned for the children and felt distress at the attitudes of many adults within his community. He wanted the self-destruction to stop.

Roland’s relationship with Jesus coupled with his conviction that much of the reservation system was harmful led him to some amazing life experiences. Actively opposing much of federal Indian policy, Roland served as President of the Western Montana organization All Citizens Equal, was a board member and Vice-Chairman of the national organization; Citizens Equal Rights Alliance, was the Secretary of Citizens Equal Rights Foundation.

He also ran as a Republican candidate for the Montana House of Representatives in the 1996 and testified before the US Senate Committee on Indian Affairs in April,1998, the Minnesota Attorney General in 2000, and numerous Mont. State committees. With his family, he also had a private meeting with a member of the President’s Domestic Policy Council May, 2002 in Washington DC.

As time progressed, Roland became more convinced of the importance of Jesus in his life. So in 2000 he attended a year of training at the Living Faith Bible College, Canada. Over the last three years, he and/or his family went on mission trips in Canada and Mexico. During a 2003 trip to a children’s home in Juarez, Mexico, he fixed most of their dining hall chairs, taught 6 boys how to upholster, donated materials, and preached a Sunday street service.

Through the years, he has appeared in numerous newspaper articles across the country. The last article he appeared in was on Friday, May 14th, in the Washington Times. Reporter Jennifer Lehner wrote, “the ICWA [Indian Child Welfare Act] protects the interests of others over [Mr. Morris'] grandchildren,” and “Mr. Morris said that once children are relocated to the reservations, they are subject to the corrupt law of the tribal government. Instead of preserving culture, he said, the tribal leadership uses the ICWA to acquire funds provided through the legislation.” Ms. Lehner quoted Mr. Morris as saying that the law is “supposed to help children, but instead it helps tribal governments.”

Finally, in February, 2004, he and his wife founded the Christian Alliance for Indian Child Welfare. The purpose of this was to encourage preaching, teaching and fostering of the growth of the Christian Faith in all places, encourage accountability of governments to families with Indian heritage, and educate the public about Indian rights, laws, and issues.

Roland praised God to the very end. When his final struggle began, several of his friends and family were praying with him. When those present sang old-time hymns, he raised his hand in the air for as long as he could. When “I Surrender” was sung, he sang the echo. While Pastor Kingery sat next to Roland, holding his hand, Roland looked him straight in the eyes and pointed his other hand up to heaven. When he passed on to greater life, his good friend Marvin Bauer was softly playing Gospel songs for him on his accordion.

Roland is survived by his wife, nine children, twelve grandchildren and a great grandson. Also important to his heart was his “special” son, Jesus Garcia, in Juarez, Mexico. Surviving brothers include Harry Morris and Steven Jones; and sisters include Clara Smith, Bernice Hurd, Sharon Goose, and Christine Jones, as well as numerous nephews and nieces and his great cousin, Scotty Butterfly.

Roland was preceded in death by his parents, Jacob and Susan Jones; siblings Thomas and Wallace Morris, Robert, Martin, Caroline, Frances, Barbara and Alvina Jones, Loretta Smith, and grandson Brandon Kier.

Roland’s loving friend, Jim Ball, crafted a beautiful casket for him as a gift. Funeral services were at the CMA Church in Ronan, MT, on Sunday, June 13, 2004 and the CMA Church in Cass Lake, MN, Tuesday, June 15. Internment was at Prince of Peace Cemetery. He is strongly remembered for his strength, character, and love for the Lord Jesus.

Roland, our husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, cousin, and friend; We Love you and Miss you so very much. You are with God now.

Gi gi wah ba min me na wah

Christian Alliance for Indian Child Welfare
Independent Indian Press
.

Crime: A Family Tradition

.
Cheri spent the spring at a detention center after having stolen a car. When we visited, she proudly bragged about her popularity among the other kids at the center.

________________________________________________

Shirley called to tell us Misty had been picked up for stealing at Butler Drug store. The police had taken her downtown. Would we go get her?

We arrived at the courthouse. The officer spoke briefly to Wilson and then released Misty to his care. Outside on the street, Wilson and Misty laughed together. Disgusted that he wasn’t mad at her, I walked a few feet ahead of them. Behind me, Wilson asked Misty, "Why did you take those cookies?"

"I was hungry!" she said, as if Wilson were stupid for asking, and then laughed.

Too mad to keep my mouth closed any longer, I turned and spat out, "Well why didn't you just walk the four blocks to our house and get something to eat then!"

Wilson and Misty looked at each other and started laughing. I turned and kept walking.

______________________________________________

Wilson had been sober in the six months since his release. If you included his time in the workhouse, he'd been sober almost a year. In April, we began making plans for a June wedding. Wilson bought me a wedding dress, and we had a portrait taken of Wilson, Andrew and me together. After the pictures were taken, we stopped at Dairy Queen for some cones, then at a park next to the river. Wilson took Andrew, on a short walk while I waited upstream. The weather was warm, the trickling water peaceful and the trees just beginning to bud. Wilson showed Andrew the ducks, then turned and came back. We each took one of Andrew's chubby hands and swung him as we walked back to the car.

It felt like we were a family.