I'm a Singing Indian from a White Trash Life-

Everyone has things in their life that they only share with certain others. Most people actually go through great pains to hide some of these little odd edges of their lives. What makes people interesting is their complexity of character. The many hidden sides of our lives are the makings of who we are as people. I was reminded recently; by one of my close friends of just how many of these little corners I actually have in my life. And she reminded me of it while I was sitting in a restaurant singing loudly and doing a great job at embarrassing her in front of people she didn’t know. First let me explain the singing. As anyone who has read most of my blog entries, you know already that I am Native American. What most of you don’t know is that I am also fourth generation white trash strait from Oklahoma. And it is with this heritage I must explain. Did anyone know that Okies have their own style of music? Well, it’s reminiscent of the movie “Oh Brother Where art Thou?” I’m talking down home, back woods, pure good old boy country music. John Denver was one of these I believe. So, to give you the entire feel for what I am talking about, I have to start a second story.
Two years ago, about this time of year my tribe celebrates Blue Corn Planting Festival. It is over one of the three day weekends. We all go up to the grounds, and put up our lodges. (Most of you would call it a teepee.) I actually own a real one. And we camp out for the weekend. During that time we have various ceremonies, weddings, birth celebrations, and honor ceremonies. We dance in the traditional way all day long in full traditional regalia, we have a huge feast, and then it is all over. All of the old people retreat to their Campers, and the rest, well they slowly find their way into one of the lodges. The fire in the middle makes the canvas glow warmly across the fields, and it calls to them like a beacon in the night. So to get to the point, they all start finding their way into my lodge, or my mothers, and before you know it, there are thirty Indians sitting knee to knee in a big circle around a little fire in side a teepee. What happens next it the important part. It was the first time I had ever brought Jolene, and she had no idea what to expect. Sitting there passing around home made corn chips and salsa, telling jokes, my Aunt Toni asked if she could use my flash light. She had been laughing too hard and had to try to make it to the out house. I smiled, held it up, (knowing full well what was going to happen) and answered her. “You mean this little light of mine?” I asked? What happened next was both hilarious and horrifying to Jolene. The whole lodge full of Indians broke into song. “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine!!” Well, three hours later after Big Johns rendition of a song called “Mountain dew, doodlie dew” in a serious back woods baritone, everyone finally got tired from laughing so hard and went back to their own lodges. Jolene looked over at me after the last guest stepped out. “What the hell?” She asked. “Wow, that’s not a side of your life you share with many people!” She laughed.
My family is like the frigging Vontraps. They break out in song at every social gathering, and at most even bring their guitars and banjos, complete with song books with lyrics to every old song ever written.
So now I bring you back to me singing loudly in a restaurant, only now you will understand that is the 50th birthday of a close family member, and there is a banjo and thirty other people singing very loudly in a public restaurant, and the song the man with the guitar has chosen is none other than “Jolene” By Dolly Pardon. (Coincidentally Jolene has always hated this song.) And as the last chorus is being strummed out the waiter comes in and in a sing song voice pipes up that “Jolene, Jolene, that’s who needs to sign her tab!” She was horrified. Right about then she looked over at me with a red face and a smile, and says “I would give anything to video tape this and show everyone you know just what a dork you are! I bet even your boyfriend doesn’t know just what a folk singing freak you really are!” Thank God she didn’t have a video tape that day. I’m sure she will get her chance one of these days however. So everyone has to be something, and I am fourth generation white trash from the other side of the tracks and can sing every back woods redneck song written since the thirties. I guess it could be worse for someone as cool as me. It could be on tape!

MK-