I Walked past the Little Bighorn battle field where Custer was defeated by the Oglala Lakota, Northern Cheyenne, and Arapaho people in a last ditch effort to protect their land (which had been agreed upon and duly recognized by the U.S. government as Indian land) from the gold diggers who had illegally trespassed on their lands and discovered gold.  Just imagine if today, the U.S government decided it wanted the land in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York, being occupied by the Amish people and started attacking and killing them to get it!

Somewhere between Busby, and Lame Deer on the Northern Cheyenne lands I found a dead juvenile bald eagle lying in a roadside ditch, obviously having been hit by an auto. How very sad it was to see this beautiful bird lying there dead instead of soaring effortlessly overhead. Knowing how sacred the eagle is to the Native American and how valuable the feathers are to them, I pulled the body up to the side of the road where someone might spot it easier and retrieve it. I was in a dead zone for my Verizon phone (“can you hear me now?” my ass!) and so was unable to notify tribal police. The penalty for having eagle feathers or body parts without proper permits is a $100,000 dollar fine and imprisonment! And you can only obtain a permit if you are Native American. At Lame Deer I met Northern Cheyenne, Brian Roberts, and told him where I had found the eagle. He said it would surely be long gone by that time. Brian was very interested in why I was walking. He told me of a Northern Cheyenne army veteran, Teddy Gray, who was walking across the U.S. at that time. He spotted the very cheap compass which I had hanging off my backpack strap to look at occasionally to be assured I am ALWAYS walking in the right direction. Brian told me he had a very nice Suunto brand compass he wanted to give me. He also gave me a beautiful necklace which had been decorated in beautiful bead work by a Cheyenne friend of his. He showed me a design woven into it and explained it to be the Cheyenne Northern Star and told me the necklace was to hang my new compass from. I could’t believe he was giving me such a special and valuable gift! Brian told me he appreciated my message and that it was much needed on Native American lands as they had very high suicide rates. 

On both the Crow lands and Northern Cheyenne lands, lots of Native Americans stopped to talk and inquire of my “LOVE LIFE” sign. This curiosity among Native American people has been prevalent on all Native lands I have crossed. And I have crossed many, including; Seminole, Miccosukee Seminole, Cherokee, (North Carolina and Oklahoma) Shoshone, Hoopa, Karuk, Yurok, Ojibwa, (several different spellings) Blackfeet, Nez Perce, Apache, Hopi, and Navajo. I have never been treated even slightly rude in any way by any Native American’s while crossing their lands on foot. And most of the time I have been in very remote situations where I was very vulnerable. When walking around the U.S. just before walking into Browning, Montana on Blackfeet land, I was told by some white men that I would probably be mugged and possibly even murdered if I dared to walk across the Blackfeet lands! I was told that they were a very mean people. By the time I saw the city limit sign for Browning, I had already been invited into three different homes to spend the night! I found the Blackfeet to be very courteous and of course… very curious. I believe the curiosity and open heartedness of the Native American has been their downfall in our history. How very wonderful for us and the rest of the universe, they have not allowed that to change them!

This is a story from my first walk across Native American lands in 2001 on my first walk across the United States:

                                                  "A Hug and A Beer"

It was a Sunday afternoon in June, I was crossing the Shoshone Indian Reservation just outside of Fallon, Nevada. The temperature was past a hundred and felt like it was climbing. This was my first time walking in desert lands; I was on U.S. route 50, America's Loneliest Highway. I was a little anxious about the next fifty miles into the town of Cold Springs, the nearest water. There was a little store and gas station there and it would be my last place to stop before Cold Springs. I was sitting on the ground out in front of the store having a couple hot dogs and my last ice cold drink for awhile. An old, really beat up pick-up truck pulled up just to the right of me. I caught just a glimpse of a very big Shoshone Indian climbing out the passenger side. He had long black braids hanging out of a dust filled, once black cowboy hat. And he obviously had had a little too much to drink. I quickly looked away; I just didn't care to be bothered. I was in an unusual mood; I think I was more worried about crossing my first stretch of desert than I was letting myself know. The big Indian just stopped right in front of me, staring at me and my cart and my beautiful "LOVE LIFE" sign. I ignored him. And then he spoke, very slow, "What are you doing?" God, I did not want to be bothered! He repeated, "What are you doing?" "I am walking across America." I finally answered. Then he immediately and very matter of fact asked, "Why?" I was really in a funk and just didn't want to converse, I am certain that was the only time in all my walks I ever allowed myself to be in that kind of mood. I answered, "Because I've never done it before!" He was not going to go away, he then says, "But why do you have that sign?" "Cause I love life!" I answered; my irritation showing. "Why?" He wanted to know. I told him that I just thought it was a nice thing to say! "But why?" he asked, "And why are you walking with that sign?" Wanting the conversation with this drunken Indian to end, I finally said, "God told me to!" "No shit!" He said. "No shit!" I answered. And with a stunned look on his face, he said, "I didn't know God talked to you white guys?" I said, "Well, he talks to this one!" He turned to face his truck and the Indian woman at the wheel and yells, "Hey honey, God told this guy to walk across America and by God he's doin' it!" He turns back to me and says, "By God I'm buyin' you a beer!" “By God I’ll drink it!” I said. And a few minutes later he handed me an ice cold beer! He gave me a big bear hug and walked off laughing. Now I was in a great mood and ready to tackle the desert. Hell, all I really needed was a hug and a beer... by God!

In the tiny town of Alzada, Montana I stopped in the Stoneville Saloon which advertises on the front of their building, CHEAP DRINKS – LOUSY FOOD and “Conveniently located in the Middle of Nowhere” Well, to my pleasure, the LOUSY FOOD part was not true, my cheeseburger was awesome! Diane, the owner, who was a fox and decorated with some very nice tattoo’s allowed me to tent next to her saloon for the night!

Did about 20 miles of Wyoming on U.S. 212 cutting across a small corner of the state, taking me out of Montana and into South Dakota. Now I have officially walked in Wyoming with “LOVE LIFE” over my head. After leaving Nebraska, I will do just a small corner of Iowa also. I will then have walked in all the lower 48 states proclaiming "LOVE LIFE"!

At Spearfish, South Dakota, I had dinner with a young couple and their three children and spent the night in a travel trailer on their property. Stopped at Wild Bill’s campground just outside Deadwood, S.D., for breakfast, the person waiting on me was a fine young man, Tyler Grimm. Tyler allowed me to charge my phone and laptop while I ate. I shared my story with him and he never tired of asking me questions. Moments after I left, Tyler ran up behind me and handed me more than enough money to pay for the breakfast I just had. He said he really believed in what I was doing and wanted to help.
 
Somewhere on U.S. 385 in the Black Hills, Danielle Dutton from New York state and Joe Shannon from Rhode Island stopped to talk. Danielle was real excited because she had seen me walking in upstate Ney York two years before! They were in the Black Hills working for the U.S. Forestry Service. They shared their fresh fruit and energy bars with me. They asked if there was anything else they could help me with. I told them I was in dire need of a buckle for the waist belt on my back pack and showed them how I had been having to tie it in a knot since the original had broken. Joe immediately opened up the back of his SUV and pulled ouy his very nice backpack and took the buckle off and handed to me! I couldn't believe it! Joe said to me, "We're going into Rapid City and I'll buy one there... if not, I'll just tie mine together like you did. You need it much more than I do!" Thank you Joe and Danielle for everything!  

The Black Hills of South Dakota, called Paha Sappa - "Hills that are black" by the Lakota people, are truly beautiful! I walked into Wind Cave National Park and was excited about the opportunity to walk amongst the buffalo. I had barely entered the park when I saw a huge bull and several cows crossing the road in front of me! It was so exciting! Just after I spotted them, a park ranger, Frank Platt stopped to check on me and find out for his own curiosity what I was up to. I was worried that he might not allow me to walk among the bison, but he assured me it would be okay. Frank told me to simply give them plenty of space and the warning signs for danger were, if the buffalo stopped wagging its tail and instead raised it up in the air.  Also, if one were to keep staring at me and lowered its head in my direction… get the hell outa’ Dodge! Well, I saw a small herd and was able to get some pictures but not nearly the close up shots I wanted. I still had about three hours to walk through the rest of the park so I figured I could still get a good close up shot of a large bull.  And then, up pulls Frank Platt again, “What’s up Frank?” I cheerfully inquired. It seems that Frank had second thoughts and decided he would feel really bad if I was trampled to death by a herd of wild bison… shit!! I pleaded with him but to no avail. So, Frank drove me the remaining five miles to the park gate, as we drove out I saw several large bulls that I probably would have walked by. I camped next to the park fence hoping that a herd would show up in that area that I could photograph through the fence. Didn’t happen… shit!!

Just walking out of the South Dakota town of Hill City, about 4:00 in the afternoon and I heard someone yelling at me, “Hey ya gonna’ need a place to stay tonight?” I looked up to see a very thin cowboy walking down the hill from a small house perched on top the hill. His name was Daryl and he had obviously been drinking. He told me I was welcome to stay at his house. I told him I wouldn’t mind pitching my tent in his yard. Daryl said, “You can pitch it anywhere you want or you can stay in the house, just go on up and make yourself at home… I’m goin’ to the bar and do me some drinkin’ and do some karaoke… see ya later.” And with that, he was gone. In front of his house he had piles of firewood bundles stacked on tables with a coffee can that said “donations” on it. While I was pitching my tent, several people came by and got firewood. It was the weekend and there were lots of campgrounds in the area. I took him up on his offer and entered his very small, very old home and used his kitchen table for my laptop. On the walls were pictures of Daryl on horseback and there were horse bridles and other tack hanging here and there. There was an old wood burning pot bellied stove in the middle of his living/bedroom. I crawled in my tent at dark and still had not seen any sign of Daryl. About 2:00 am I heard someone helping him to his door. About 4:30 am I heard his back door open and Daryl yelled out, “Man, its cold as shit out here, I’m gettin’ wood for the stove. Get on in here and get warm!” It was serious cold in my tent so within a few minutes I was in that house! Daryl fixed up some cowboy coffee, eggs, and a pound of bacon which I consumed with the gusto of a hound dog! Daryl was still pretty well intoxicated and though he fixed himself a plate, he never touched it. I ended up eating his as well. Have I mentioned that I eat a lot out here?

Daryl had a very old hi-fi, probably from the early 60’s and he had an Eddy Arnold record playing. I asked him if Eddy Arnold was still living, he said he didn’t know. That’s easy enough to find out I told him, I’ll check it on the laptop. Daryl said, “That may be the first one of them things I ever actually looked at… I hate that modern hi-tech shit! I think we’d all be better off without that crap!” I chuckled at his comments and proceeded to find out that Mr. Arnold had indeed passed away only last year. Daryl was obviously impressed but wasn’t going to admit it. “Is there anything else you would like to know?” I asked. At first he just grunted and shook his head no and then he said, “Hey, can ya see what Bette Midler is up to now?” And so I read him some of the latest news on her. “I always loved hearing her sing The Rose.” Daryl told me. Soooo, I clicked on a video of Bette Midler singing The Rose. We sat there watching and soon the tears were streaming down that skinny cowboy’s face. Then I clicked on one of her singing "The Wind beneath My Wings". Now we were both crying, I was thinking of my two beautiful babies and what my memories of them did for me. Of course I had no way of knowing what thoughts or memories it provoked for Daryl. And then he started talking.

He told me he had two sons, two years apart, that he had to raise by himself. He said both boys were into football and polo. The oldest, he said, was excellent at polo and it was his preferred sport. He talked and talked about the oldest son and how good he was at everything he did. And then he said, “But then he really screwed up!” He looked down at the floor for a long time and with tears streaming he continued, “See, he had been raised up with guns, he knew all about them. We had gone hunting his whole life. He was 16 and he knew better! See, what he did was… he saw a rat out there in the shed… ya see. So he grabbed his huntin’ rifle and tried to get a shot at it. Now the rifle had a scope on it and he was in a small space and so he figured if he was going to be able to get a good shot he would have to scare the rat out of the hole it ran into. Now he had already tried to get a shot so that meant the safety was off. So he laid the rifle down and then stretched out on his belly real flat to look into the hole and try to spot the rat. Well, he musta’ seen it in there and then reached his hand back for the rifle. He got the rifle by the barrel and began dragging it up toward himself. Now I don’t know what that trigger caught on…. but it caught on somethin’.  The bullet entered just under his chin and then went on through… he was gone instantly!” I had already told Daryl of my son’s suicide. He looked at me and said, “Now there were some around here who said my boy killed himself…. horseshit! He would never have done that!” I didn’t ask Daryl how he could have known such details of what had happened if no one else was present when the accident occurred. I also didn’t ask him what the police report said. A few minutes later, Daryl said he had to go cut some trees for someone and get some more firewood to sell. I packed up my tent, put everything on my back and walked on down the road with Bette Midler singing in my head, “you are the wind beneath my wings.” Did I mention, I cry a lot out here?   

In Hot Springs, the local newspaper, the Hot Springs Star, covered my story. Brett Nachtigall, the publisher, took me to two different stores to do some shopping after he interviewed me. He was a super nice guy and we spoke for a very long time.  For some reason, on this walk, I have not received much newspaper coverage at all. Nearly every time a newspaper covers my walk and gets my message out, I get contacted by at least one individual, sometimes more, that my message affected them. What could possibly be more important than the possibility of, “Mending the broken heart before it stops beating”? ?

An old banged up Thunderbird pulled beside me with four Native Americans inside and they obviously had been drinking. They were probably Lakota considering the area we were in. The driver asked what I was doing and I told him. He then spotted my Northern Cheyenne made necklace and expressed that he would really like to have it. He held up his hand clutching some dollar bills and offered them to me for the necklace. I informed him it was not for sale. He said, “But you don’t know how much money I am holding.” I told him it did not matter, the necklace was not for sale, it was a gift from a Northern Cheyenne back in Montana and I could not part with it. He tried to persuade me to sell a couple more times when the one woman in the back seat said, “he’s not going to sell it, he can’t sell it,  give him the money.” They all four started laughing and just seemed absolutely delighted that they were able to give me the money… necklace on no necklace. They gave me the three dollars, which I believe was their intent in the first place before the driver spotted the necklace. Lakota people are special… they have hearts designed to give!

I have a wonderful dear friend, Liz Garcia Gray. Liz is a child psychiatrist with a practice in Louisville, Kentucky. She donates her time all over the world as natural disasters occur. She is a giver; she has been known to pay the toll for the car behind her at a toll booth. And she is a happy giver! She enjoys life as much anyone I’ve ever met! She told me at her birthday celebration in New York City, “Steve, if you don’t start having more fun… I’m going to take your “LOVE LIFE” sign away from you!” And then she laughed and laughed. But I took her serious… I have absolutely stayed aware of how important it is to have fun and enjoy life in all our endeavors! She is beautiful on the outside because she is so very beautiful on the inside… that’s the way it works folks. She is a knock down gorgeous Filipino princess whom is engaged to a very handsome Lakota warrior, Lawrence Janis (Juh-neice).  They met when Liz was volunteering her services to the Lakota people at Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. They both said it was love at first sight! Just a few weeks ago, Liz notified me she would be visiting her fiancée over the Labor Day weekend. I was in Montana and not that far away from Pine Ridge so we planned on meeting there.

As I have stated, I’ve walked across many Native American lands. You notice a lot more when you’re on foot… ya move real slowly. The Native American lands are always a pleasure to walk across. This is due to the fact most of the Native Americans I have encountered are very curious, very kind, and extremely generous. I have certainly witnessed social problems on the reservations no doubt. The worse problem I’ve seen is alcohol. It has been my observation though, the more the particular Native people encourage and practice their ancestral ways, the less social problems they have. My friend Liz had told me that she had never met a finer people than the Oglala Lakota. She spoke of their spirituality, their family values, their generosity, and their honesty. I agree.

I arrived at Pine Ride a couple days earlier than planned because I literally was not able to walk in as originally planned! Lakota’s will not let you walk! As soon as I left the Lakota owned Prairie Winds Casino and a wonderful buffet style breakfast, cars started stopping and offering rides. I had turned down two rides already when the casino bus pulled up and offered me a ride. I really wanted to walk because I was running three days early on meeting up with my friend Liz, I had about 30 more miles to go and figured a slow walk would narrow it down to only one day early. The Native American bus driver said, “Come on man, get in the bus man. The hostess at the Casino restaurant told me all about you… get in here and tell me all about what you are doing.” What the hell, I took the ride. We had wonderful conversation, mostly about the Lakota people and their proud history. (Sitting Bull, Red Cloud, Crazy Horse, and many more) I figured, what the hell, I’ll at least walk the 15 miles from Oglala to Pine Ridge and arrive only two days early. I went in the little store at Oglala and had a wonderful talk with the lady behind the counter. I told her that Lawrence Janis was going to try and get me a an interview with Tom Casey on KILI-FM radio “The Voice of the Lakota People”. I was sitting outside the store and a lady came out of the store and said, “Hey, I hear you are going to be interviewed by Tom Casey?” “Possibly?” I answered. Just then my phone rang and it was my friend Liz checking on me. The lady said, “Is that Tom, let me talk to him.” Just as I was ready to leave the store property, a group of young men called me over to their car and asked me to explain to them what I was doing. Before I left that store three more people approached me wanting to know what I was doing. This kind of curious questioning happens occasionally when I am walking through white communities… not every ten minutes! Back out on the road for ten minutes and I turned down a ride. About 15 minutes later there were three cars pulled over at the same time offering me a ride! Now remember; I am not hitchhiking and I am walking facing the traffic! Now I have three cars pulled over and trying to thank all for their offer... but no thanks. One car had pulled into the opposite lane for me to be able to get in easier and caused us all to receive ‘the finger’ from a car going the opposite way. Then a Lakota couple pulled up in a red pickup truck and the driver kept shouting for me to hurry up and jump in the back! There were soon three vehicles behind them… what the hell, into the back I jumped! I’m sitting in the bed of that truck thinking about how fast they seemed to be going when they put on the brakes and came to a screeching halt in order to pick up a Lakota man walking down the road. He jumps in and starts telling me the history of the Lakota people. Within minutes the truck has to decrease speed rapidly in order to pick up yet another Lakota man walking. He also felt obligated to tell me of the Lakota people. And a third time the brakes take us from a rapid rate of speed as the three of us hang on tight and then made room for the third Lakota man who as soon as he introduced himself to me, excitedly shouted, “Look over there man, look over there! That’s where Red Cloud is buried!” Another man interjects, “The high school is named after him.” One man asked, “ Did you see the college yet, did you visit the Oglala Lakota College yet?” Another said, “Make sure you visit our Wounded Knee Memorial.” When we pulled over in Pine Ridge for us all to unload, the three men all jumped out and instantly reached in and grabbed a piece of my baggage! They all shook my hand vigorously and kept telling me places I should visit. It never bothered any of them that I was not Lakota, that it was my ancestors who took their land and tried (Thank God it didn’t work!) to rob them of their customs, their traditions, and their pride! So, there I was in Pine Ridge three days earlier than I was supposed to be... it was those damn Indians!

In Pine Ridge I tried to get in touch with my new Lakota friend Lawrence Janis but could not as he was at work as a counselor at Pine Ridge high school. So I just found some picnic tables in the center of town and waited. Many stopped to talk to me when they spotted my “LOVE LIFE” sign. One young man, Wayne Chief Eagle told me that if I was not able to hook up with Lawrence, I could camp down at the pow-wow grounds. I asked if it mattered that I was not Lakota. He looked at me a bit startled and said, “You need a place to stay… this is the Lakota way, no one will bother you. We are happy to have you here!” Lawrence and I were unable to hook up until he had already traveled the 30 miles to his home. So I stayed at the pow-wow grounds. The grounds were an evening gathering place for Pine Ridge residents. They would find a shade tree and park their vehicles (mostly pickups and mini-vans) and get out and gather to talk. I heard a lot of laughter. When they would see me under my chosen shade tree, they would smile and wave. The next day I was driven out to Lawrence’s sister, Rosa Lee's home to spend the afternoon with Lawrence’s brother and his wife. I worked at my laptop all day until their children came home. Rosa Lee’s son Dre, gave me the gift of a book, “The Lakota Way”. He explained to me that he had read the book twice and he would be honored if I accepted it. I told him I was honored but I asked if he was sure he wanted to part with it. The 15-year-old Lakota said, “It is the Lakota way.” That was beautiful, and then he added, “It is the Lakota way to be respectful to the elderly.” Thanks Dre… I think?

I had a wonderful evening getting to know Lawrence Janis and experiencing his wisdom. He is one of the finest men I have ever met. His love for his family and his people is the first thing that impressed me. He left the next morning for Rapid City airport to pick up the love of his life, my friend Liz. His sister, Rosa Lee, drove me over to KILI-FM radio to be interviewed by Tom Casey. It was a wonderful interview, one of the best I’ve experienced. Tom asked challenging questions and had a truly deep concern for the Lakota people. Tom is white but is married to a Lakota and has Lakota children. During the interview, Tom told of a 19-year-old Lakota youth who had only recently ended his own young precious life! The tears were streaming down Tom’s face. I told of an old Apache man at Fort Apache Reservation in Arizona shaking my hand and with tears running down his cheeks saying to me, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you very much!” And how a newspaper reporter later explained to me that the probable reason for the old Apache’s appreciation for my cause was the fact that the year before, 35 young Apache men had taken their own lives! On the way back to Lawrence’s home, Rosa Lee told me that her son Dre and her two nieces were still talking about the talk I had given to them the previous evening. And I thought they were so attentive to my words because they were just being polite and adhering to… “The Lakota way”! I spent the rest of the day and most of the next, all by myself in beautiful solitude in the very modest mobile home amidst the rolling plains just south of the Black Hills and surrounded by about 30 wild horses! It was truly a wonderful experience. I had been experiencing a mental block for nearly two years when trying to write my book. Every time I worked on it I had to struggle and never felt satisfied with the results. For some reason, that all came to an end in that modest home surrounded by wild horses… I started writing with ease. I had a wonderful evening with Lawrence and Liz and we planned for me to help Lawrence the next morning, Sunday, with preparations for a Lakota sweat lodge ceremony. This description of the sweat lodge ceremony from, “The Lakota Way” by Joseph M. Marshall III:

The structure of the sweat lodge represents the womb. We enter it to be reborn. The leader enters first followed by the participants, one by one. The first words the leader and each participant speaks upon entering the lodge are, "mitakuye oyasin", or “all my relatives.” With that simple phrase we connect and align ourselves with all things on and of the earth, thereby forming  a powerful alliance. Each participant circles to the left, in the direction of the sun (or clockwise) and takes a seat. When all are seated, the leader signals the helper, who remains outside, to carry in hot stones and place them in the center pit. A bucket of water is then placed inside, the opening or door is closed and sealed, and there is darkness.                                                                                                                                The leader speaks a welcome and provides instructions. He is the first to offer a prayer, acknowledging the Creator, the Earth Mother, and the powers that live in the Four Directions. Thereafter each participant offers a prayer as the leader pours water on the hot stones, and steam fills the space. The temperature rises very quickly in the enclosure and everyone sweats. This is the purification, tha purging of one’s troubles and the impurities and negativity brought into the lodge. Songs are sung as commemorations and as prayers. When all the participants have prayed, the leader opens the door and allows a brief respite from the heat. The length of the ceremony depends on the number of participants and the length of their prayers. The emergence from the lodge or the “womb” symbolizes their rebirth and a new beginning. Outside they gather in a circle as the leader lights the pipe and each participant is invited to smoke.                                                                                                                                The acknowledgment of the connection to all things living is a real and operative concept for the participants in the ceremony. Everything that is a part of the ceremony symbolizes that connection, or kinship.  The round shape of the lodge represents life itself, and all the four elements are part of the ceremony; Earth, Wind, Fire, and Water. All the elements and all the relatives - all things living – are brought together to share the burdens and give their strength to whatever lies ahead.                                        

And that kind of ceremony upset the Christian missionaries?? Didn't Jesus the Christ say something about having to be reborn?                          

Well, I helped chop up the wood and start the fire to heat up the rocks and had a wonderful time talking and listening to Lawrence. It was wonderful watching all his family and friends show up for the “sweat”. They were loaded into pickup trucks and all arriving smiling and laughing. I was very excited to have been invited to participate in this beautiful and sacred ceremony. However… but a few minutes into the ceremony after they closed the opening, I experienced a slight problem… I felt I couldn’t breath! Two years earlier I had to exit from a sauna for the same reason. Soooo, I had to bail.  About 15 minutes after exiting, I was leaning against the hood of a truck feeling pretty bad over having to leave the “sweat” and I heard Lawrence ask that the door be opened again. “Oh goody!” I thought, someone else has capitulated and cannot take the heat. I was thinking that it would really be a reprieve for me if it was one of the young Lakota warriors that were present. And sure enough, it was! It was a young Lakota warrior… a very young Lakota warrior. Out stepped bare chested little three year old Wic'api, Lakota for Star! Lawrence’s great nephew, Lawrence said that when saying Wic’api, between the C and the A is a guttural sound in the pronunciation, and the C is a ch sound. He said, “We just call him “Choppy”. So, “Choppy” outlasted me and about 30 minutes later, more Lakota’s gave up…. The five to twelve year olds! Later, I was sitting next to Lawrence’s mother, she reached over and patted my knee and said, “You tried, and… you are here.” Her son-in-law came over to me later and said, “What matters, you are here.” At the end of the “sweat” at least two others repeated the same to me. Later in the day, Lawrence said to me, “Your “sweat” comes in another way.” I have to ask, “What if the white man had been as respectful and gracious concerning the Native American ways?”

About midway during the “sweat” ceremony Lawrence invited me to sit at the opening and address the participants and explain my cause, my purpose. During the whole ceremony I heard everything that was going on in the sweat lodge and enjoyed the singing in the beautiful Lakota tongue. I sat in the circle after “sweat” and smoked peace pipe. A nephew of Lawrence came up to me and told me he heard me being interviewed on KILI-FM radio and that it really had an impact on the way he would look at things from now on. Lawrence and Liz took me to the site of Wounded Knee. I really do not know what to say as to how it affected me to stand there on that holy ground with a Lakota warrior, a descendant of the victims of that terrible atrocity.  Certainly I was honored, but there was such a sadness overshadowing the experience… an unavoidable and very important part of the experience I suppose. The whole experience of being on Lakota lands and with the Lakota people, I can only express as, “My life will never be the same.”
I am honored to have been given permission to include this poem on my blog:

Pushed Down and Stepped On ~ Lawrence J. Janis

We are here, we survived
We got this far.,
Our parents got us here,
Their parents got them here,
We got this far.

We were pushed down and stepped on.
When once we were free.

They put us on this place,
Called the agency.

They fenced us in... we had to ask to move.

And to push down and step on us harder.

They didn't let us hunt for food.
And if we did... we were labeled hostile,
And hunted down.

And to push down and step on us harder.

They gave us rations as they saw fit.
If we didn't do as they said,
They cut our rations and we were starved.

To push down and step on us harder.

They gave us a plow, a few tools, a horse and a cow.
And told us to live like them.

To push down  and step on us harder.

After we started to adapt,
To try to live with a plow and a cow
They changed the rules.

To push down and step on us harder!

They started to act.
To take more land.
The allotment was a tricky plan
They took more land.

To push down and step on us harder!

They took our children away from us.
They put them in boarding schools.

They took the language
And split our families.
They took our pride.

To push down and step on us harder!

They put an outlaw on our religion.
We prayed in secret.
They broke our spirit.

To push down and step on us harder!

They gave us alcohol!
Fire water, to destroy each other!

But we forgave and we forgot.
And we fought and died for them, when the great wars came.

To push down and step on us harder!

They had to humor us.
They gave the anthro's, a study plan.
To come up with the New Deal.

To push down and step on us harder!

The put, another act.
The anthro's came up... with the IRA.

And the government took out the I... so we couldn't see.

We reorganized, we acted good.
We plowed and we hayed.

We lost our pride and we got it back.
They broke our spirit, we became more spiritual.

We are here... we survived.
We got this far.

To push down and step on us harder!!!

TO LIVE AND BE HAPPY, WITHOUT DRUGS AND ALCOHOL.

THE BLACK HILLS ARE NOT FOR SALE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LJ Janis (Isakip Kiya)
 



Ozzie’s General store at Sutherland, Nebraska refused to let me pay for my meal and allowed me to spend as much time as needed on my laptop at one of their tables… THANK YOU!!!

Behind a truck stop just outside Maxwell, Nebraska on I-80, I was preparing to camp in a cornfield so as to be near a place for coffee and breakfast the next morning when someone yelled at me. I looked up to see a young man who had these really huge holes in his ears with plastic see thru inserts in them. I figured he was there to tell me that I could not pitch my tent on their property. I was wrong, he introduced himself as Rudy and told me I was welcome to spend the night in an empty semi trailer they usually used as storage. There were chairs in it and it was a nice shelter from the weather. Rudy came out and talked with me at length several times as he did not get off until 10:00pm and they were not busy in the truck repair shop that he worked in. Just after Rudy and his boss closed shop, Rudy came back to the trailer and told me I had really helped him and he had enjoyed very much talking with me. He handed me some money and absolutely insisted on paying for my breakfast the next morning!

At Maxwell, Nebraska, David Tolle, who was working at the small convenience store near I-80, took a real interest in what I was doing and asked a lot of questions. I had mentioned to him that I would probably camp somewhere near the store for the night. David came up to me later and told me he was friends with the managers of a local Christian campground called Maranatha and that he had already called and asked permission for me to stay the night. I told him I was leery of Christian groups ‘cause they can be a total pain in the ass! He assured me that no one would bother me. He drove me out and introduced me to the manager who showed me where the showers (hallelujah!) were and instructed me to camp wherever and enjoy! No one bothered me at all and the next morning David showed up to drive me back to the highway! David also said he had called two different newspapers and told them about my story. They both promised to cover it… neither showed up. I’m quite used to it, but it obviously bothered David. What a caring person he is. I expressed my gratitude for getting me to a hot shower and for trying to get the newspaper coverage!!