Seeger and Ogie Yocha, the radical Korean-Japanese rock-reggae band), wrapped in the red Indian shawl he gave me at one of our more amazingly soulful and festive events, as we listened to the voices and the drums of all our people, alive again.
1987
* MYTHS OF THE CHEROKEE AND SACRED FORMULAS OF THE CHEROKEES, collected and transcribed 1887-1890. (Nashville: Charles and Randy Elder-Booksellers, Publishers, in collaboration with Cherokee Heritage Books, Cherokee, NC, 1982).
“At about 10:30 Thursday morning, September 13th, 1984, Dennis Banks (American Indian Movement—AIM—leader) took a courageous step toward gaining his eventual freedom by surrendering to law enforcement officials in Rapid City, South Dakota. Banks, who fled South Dakota in 1975 because of threats against his life by William Janklow (Governor of South Dakota) and prison guards, was convicted of assault (without intent to kill) and riot. This conviction grew out of a demonstration that erupted into a riot in Custer, South Dakota on February 6th, 1973. The demonstration by approximately 150 Indian people came about because of the judicial mishandling of a case involving the death of an Indian youth at the hands of a white man. (The accused was eventually acquitted.)” From a flier prepared by Mark Banks, National Director, Dennis Banks Support Committee.
** Mooney, Myths of the Cherokee.
*** A Sioux word meaning “ the fat taker”—the white man.
JOURNAL
August 30, 1984
Have finished a typed draft of the “Coming In from the Cold” essay. And the sun is peeking through the clouds after a rainy morning. The fire takes this same opportunity to blaze. Deer keep wandering across the yard. I went out and spoke to a couple of them. I can tell my voice doesn’t frighten them. They are very hungry for green things, since all is dry and dead this time of year. Perhaps I’ll pick the greens in the garden and give them those.
Joan came to fix lunch, a fairly acidic (tomatoey) soup. It was nice, though, to work, typing, while she cooked.
I’m sure I’ll want to work on the essay before delivering it at the Writers Union meeting. But I’m grateful that it came at all. I’ve felt so empty, so much as if I might just dive off forever into my hollyhocks. But even though it seems like a very unproductive year, this is not true. I’ve managed to rest a lot, my first priority. I did finish a draft of the screenplay [of The Color Purple ] and now this essay, as well as the introduction to California’s book [ A Piece of Mine ]. And my own book will be out in October. Rebecca and I will be okay, I think. Our bond seems to have deepened over the year. My blessings continue. Thank you.
August 31, 1984
In fact, you continue to amaze me! Yesterday after Joan arrived I went up to the studio to get tomatoes for visiting friends—there are so many, you’ve really outdone yourself! And when I got there I went to the outhouse, where a family of wasps now live, and then I went up the hill to the meditation yurt, stopping to lie down on the way. The view is so incredibly lovely—your work again! Indeed all around me. I never cease to marvel at how you do it—to me, everything is magic, but just from my own work experience I know the manifestation of magic is work. Or vice versa. Anyhow, went inside the clean-swept yurt and meditated. Or tried. But what happened instead is that you gave me a whole, long story called “The Hair Artist.” I was astonished. And humbled and proud. I hesitate to write “proud”; I think I mean it in the sense of overjoyed, thrilled at this gift that seems to say I still know you. And you know me, in the sense of letting me feel creation along with you. So now I’m excited about the prospect of bringing it out—in fact, I was so excited, and so full of thoughts, I could hardly go to sleep. Eventually I did and I woke up this morning feeling healed; the pain in shoulder, neck, and ear, soothed. And the sun is shining and I’ve
1987
* MYTHS OF THE CHEROKEE AND SACRED FORMULAS OF THE CHEROKEES, collected and transcribed 1887-1890. (Nashville: Charles and Randy Elder-Booksellers, Publishers, in collaboration with Cherokee Heritage Books, Cherokee, NC, 1982).
“At about 10:30 Thursday morning, September 13th, 1984, Dennis Banks (American Indian Movement—AIM—leader) took a courageous step toward gaining his eventual freedom by surrendering to law enforcement officials in Rapid City, South Dakota. Banks, who fled South Dakota in 1975 because of threats against his life by William Janklow (Governor of South Dakota) and prison guards, was convicted of assault (without intent to kill) and riot. This conviction grew out of a demonstration that erupted into a riot in Custer, South Dakota on February 6th, 1973. The demonstration by approximately 150 Indian people came about because of the judicial mishandling of a case involving the death of an Indian youth at the hands of a white man. (The accused was eventually acquitted.)” From a flier prepared by Mark Banks, National Director, Dennis Banks Support Committee.
** Mooney, Myths of the Cherokee.
*** A Sioux word meaning “ the fat taker”—the white man.
JOURNAL
August 30, 1984
Have finished a typed draft of the “Coming In from the Cold” essay. And the sun is peeking through the clouds after a rainy morning. The fire takes this same opportunity to blaze. Deer keep wandering across the yard. I went out and spoke to a couple of them. I can tell my voice doesn’t frighten them. They are very hungry for green things, since all is dry and dead this time of year. Perhaps I’ll pick the greens in the garden and give them those.
Joan came to fix lunch, a fairly acidic (tomatoey) soup. It was nice, though, to work, typing, while she cooked.
I’m sure I’ll want to work on the essay before delivering it at the Writers Union meeting. But I’m grateful that it came at all. I’ve felt so empty, so much as if I might just dive off forever into my hollyhocks. But even though it seems like a very unproductive year, this is not true. I’ve managed to rest a lot, my first priority. I did finish a draft of the screenplay [of The Color Purple ] and now this essay, as well as the introduction to California’s book [ A Piece of Mine ]. And my own book will be out in October. Rebecca and I will be okay, I think. Our bond seems to have deepened over the year. My blessings continue. Thank you.
August 31, 1984
In fact, you continue to amaze me! Yesterday after Joan arrived I went up to the studio to get tomatoes for visiting friends—there are so many, you’ve really outdone yourself! And when I got there I went to the outhouse, where a family of wasps now live, and then I went up the hill to the meditation yurt, stopping to lie down on the way. The view is so incredibly lovely—your work again! Indeed all around me. I never cease to marvel at how you do it—to me, everything is magic, but just from my own work experience I know the manifestation of magic is work. Or vice versa. Anyhow, went inside the clean-swept yurt and meditated. Or tried. But what happened instead is that you gave me a whole, long story called “The Hair Artist.” I was astonished. And humbled and proud. I hesitate to write “proud”; I think I mean it in the sense of overjoyed, thrilled at this gift that seems to say I still know you. And you know me, in the sense of letting me feel creation along with you. So now I’m excited about the prospect of bringing it out—in fact, I was so excited, and so full of thoughts, I could hardly go to sleep. Eventually I did and I woke up this morning feeling healed; the pain in shoulder, neck, and ear, soothed. And the sun is shining and I’ve
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