Friday Fun

"Loving Thy Neighbors," by Jamie Lynne "Feather" Songbird

Hello, my friends. I want to share with you an amasing adventure that I was on recently. I had been reading the Bible where it says that there is neither Greek nor Jew in Christ and that scripture got me to thinking about some of our sisters and brothers who live in an abandoned school bus close to The Five Civilized Tribes Museum in Muskogee, Oklahoma.

Now, you are all probably aware of that famous country song, "I'm proud to be an Okie from Muskogee,"  by Merle Haggard, but most of you probably do not know that Oklahoma is really two indian words blended into one; okla humma which means red people.

When you stop and think about that name, an indian name, you come to understand that it was the indians themselves who described themselves as red people and so why in tarnation was everybody so hopped-up mad about the Washington Redskins?

O, and by tarnation I mean no disrespect to Uncle Remus or the Congressional Black Caucus, several of whom probably do not deserve to be in jail.

Anyways, I had been reading the Bible and it struck me that we are all really children of that Great Spirit in the Sky. (O, Lord. That song by Norman Greenbaum just started playing in the jukebox of my mind) and sister squaw with papoose and brother warrior, all jacked-up on fire water and sharpening his arrow tips, really are just members of my extended family and so I thought it'd be a good idea to go down to BJs and buy a couple dozen cases of Dinty More Beef Stew and a few cases of Charmin Extra Strength Toilet Paper and drive it on over and deliver that to the homeless red skins and so I did.

And you know what?  It made me feel so durn good that I had planned to do it every single Friday from then on but then I got a surprise visit on Saturday from Red Sparrow and Winded Eagle (They are "sort of married" as I understand it) and their two children, Crying Coyote and Laughing Bison, and they brought me some turquoise jewelry that they say they had found "just lying around."

Red Sparrow, who had a lovely way of smiling and laughing in which joy just burst forth from her and that really was not at all diminished by the fact that she had no teeth, said the day I brought all of that stew was the first time she had seen Winded Eagle fall asleep after a meal without drinking a bunch of whiskey and that made me feel pretty durn good.

We had a fun time that night and I cooked-out some chicken and served it with corn and potato salad and, Lord have mercy, I have to question just what it was that caused somebody to name Winded Eagle, Winded, because he didn't appear to be winded at all the way he kept going back for thirds on everything. 

In any event, I asked them to spent the night because we got a rare rain storm and I wanted them all to be safe and dry inside the house with me so they all bunked down in my living room where I had assembled a tent for them made out of sheets that I had draped over the charred remains of this old flag pole that a hippy had burned down back in the late 1960s ( The guy who burned it told me he thought it was a giant stick of Patchouli and I could understand why he thought that because his "old lady" told me that somebody had dropped some acid on him - or something like that).

Anyways, to make a long story short, in the morning I made the indians some oatmeal and gave them all some strong coffee and sent them on their way and it was only later that I discovered I was missing my Buffy Sainte-Marie Greatest Hits Eight Track Tape and three bags of returnable Ballantine Ale beer cans.

Now, I am not saying the indians did it because I didn't see them take anything but as far as I know they were the only ones in the house that night other than me and I do not make a habit of stealing from myself.

Well, color me sadder but wiser. I will still bring some canned goods to the homeless indians but probably not this Friday or the next three or four dozen Fridays.