Page 7

I don't know if any of you have heard, but it's not easy being a Native writer in this country. Oh, I know the images that are going through your head. You're thinking of all the rumors you've heard. The stories of the limousines, the scantily clad girls and guys, the all-night drumming parties, a buckskin suit for every day of the week, the fabulous homes with indoor lacrosse facilities. But I'm sorry, you can only have your nails buffed so many times before you get bored.

Page 7

I don't know if any of you have heard, but it's not easy being a Native writer in this country. Oh, I know the images that are going through your head. You're thinking of all the rumors you've heard. The stories of the limousines, the scantily clad girls and guys, the all-night drumming parties, a buckskin suit for every day of the week, the fabulous homes with indoor lacrosse facilities. But I'm sorry, you can only have your nails buffed so many times before you get bored.

Page 7

I don't know if any of you have heard, but it's not easy being a Native writer in this country. Oh, I know the images that are going through your head. You're thinking of all the rumors you've heard. The stories of the limousines, the scantily clad girls and guys, the all-night drumming parties, a buckskin suit for every day of the week, the fabulous homes with indoor lacrosse facilities. But I'm sorry, you can only have your nails buffed so many times before you get bored.

Page 7

I don't know if any of you have heard, but it's not easy being a Native writer in this country. Oh, I know the images that are going through your head. You're thinking of all the rumors you've heard. The stories of the limousines, the scantily clad girls and guys, the all-night drumming parties, a buckskin suit for every day of the week, the fabulous homes with indoor lacrosse facilities. But I'm sorry, you can only have your nails buffed so many times before you get bored.

Page 7

I don't know if any of you have heard, but it's not easy being a Native writer in this country. Oh, I know the images that are going through your head. You're thinking of all the rumors you've heard. The stories of the limousines, the scantily clad girls and guys, the all-night drumming parties, a buckskin suit for every day of the week, the fabulous homes with indoor lacrosse facilities. But I'm sorry, you can only have your nails buffed so many times before you get bored.

Page 7

I don't know if any of you have heard, but it's not easy being a Native writer in this country. Oh, I know the images that are going through your head. You're thinking of all the rumors you've heard. The stories of the limousines, the scantily clad girls and guys, the all-night drumming parties, a buckskin suit for every day of the week, the fabulous homes with indoor lacrosse facilities. But I'm sorry, you can only have your nails buffed so many times before you get bored.

Page 5

A Native Life

Tansi, ahnee and hello. When I was a boy I played in an old barn behind one of the places I called home. Saturday afternoons found us swinging from ropes strung from beams to land in heaped-up piles of straw. My friends and I spent hours chasing each other along those same beams in devil-may-care games of tag that always ended in flying leaps into those same piles of straw.

Page 5

A Native Life

Tansi, ahnee and hello. When I was a boy I played in an old barn behind one of the places I called home. Saturday afternoons found us swinging from ropes strung from beams to land in heaped-up piles of straw. My friends and I spent hours chasing each other along those same beams in devil-may-care games of tag that always ended in flying leaps into those same piles of straw.

Page 5

A Native Life

Tansi, ahnee and hello. When I was a boy I played in an old barn behind one of the places I called home. Saturday afternoons found us swinging from ropes strung from beams to land in heaped-up piles of straw. My friends and I spent hours chasing each other along those same beams in devil-may-care games of tag that always ended in flying leaps into those same piles of straw.

Page 5

A Native Life

Tansi, ahnee and hello. When I was a boy I played in an old barn behind one of the places I called home. Saturday afternoons found us swinging from ropes strung from beams to land in heaped-up piles of straw. My friends and I spent hours chasing each other along those same beams in devil-may-care games of tag that always ended in flying leaps into those same piles of straw.