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It Ain't Easy Being Indian
It Ain't Easy Being Indian: February 2015
Thursday, February 05 2015
 
Written by Ricey Wild,
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ricey wild.jpgAt age 19, I became absolutely unhinged. I had recently left an abusive relationship with a man it was taken for granted I would marry; I thank all the Gods living and dead that did not happen. The moment of truth crashed upon me the morning I looked at my big, swollen bloody lips after being punched by a man who professed to love me. “No one,” I said to myself, “No one who loves someone would do this to someone they say they love.” In that astonishing moment I was freed from misery, knowing especially that I deserve better and I would settle for nothing less.

In the meantime and in between time after becoming legal age, I morphed into the Club Queen I felt I was meant to be. I missed out on the sweaty, glittery Disco days but Prince and other amazing artists like Teddy Pendergrass, Rick James and Teena Marie were smooving and so I began my glory days partying to their music. I’m happy I have that to share at whatever bridge I end up under if republicans get their way.

So … this one night I was wearing a really sexy backless jumpsuit and talking to fine, FINE suave men at the Yellow Brick Road Knight Klub and for some reason I became really twitchy and uncomfortable while gabbing what I thought were witticisms. I looked down toward my feet and saw one foot of pantyhose dangling under the bottom of my attire. (Younger readers: ask your Mom or Gramma what ‘pantyhose’ were. Absurd garment if you ask me). I gasped and ran for the ladies room where I grabbed the foot and pulled and pulled and pulled at least forty yards until the entire hose was out. I had not noticed while hastily getting dressed that the previous hose were still in there!

Ahem!!! Excuse me while I collapse in hilarity at a most fond memory of my wild, unapologetic youth. I’m pretty sure no one else saw it but I will never forget it and have never taken myself too seriously after that. Trickster is real and will get you, just laugh at your silly self, stay aware and go with it.


It Ain't Easy Being Indian: January 2015
Tuesday, January 13 2015
 
Written by Ricey Wild,
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ricey wild.jpgMy heart is full because the wolf hunts in the Great Lakes regions have been stopped by a federal judge. The horrific carnage of trapping, baiting, killing and continued disruption of the wolves’ families are no more; they are back on the endangered list where they will stay with the love, compassion and diligent advocacy of people who worked hard and long for their lives. To those of you who were directly instrumental I am deeply thankful and so much for everyone who became active on the wolves behalf to speak for them.

An odd thing though, just a few days before the announcement I had called the Minnesota Fish & Wildlife office and spoke to someone who was directly involved with the so-called 'wolf harvest.' “Harvest!” Aghhh. That **name for what is actually savage, bloody slaughter upon superior sentient beings disgusts me and I told him so.

Then I told him a short version of how Anishinabe (First Man) and Maa’ingan (Wolf) in the beginning of time traveled the world together naming all animals, plants and places. Eventually they had to go their own ways and Maa’ingan knew Anishinabe would be lonely without him so he gave him Animoosh (dog).

That part always gets to me and I cried as I am doing now. No longer buried in my skin is my spiritual, cellular connection with Maa’ingan, it’s out now and I honor it as the most basic level of being that is love in the purest form. We both benefit. Maa’ingan will live their lives as Creator intended and I benefit by putting my vulnerability out there for all to see and in my own eyes I become a better person for having done so.

It Ain't Easy Being Indian
Friday, January 09 2015
 
Written by Ricey Wild,
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ricey wild.jpgAfter the last bite of pie was swallowed, after the leftovers were doled out, after the family had a wonderful time together eating a magnificent dinner of tender turkey and scrumptious sides, after hugs were exchanged and many kisses given, after pictures and “selfies” were digitized, after everyone else left to go beach themselves in the privacy of their own homes to freely boogit, after all that food and love three of us sat at Gramma Rose’s house, two of us just about to leave.

My Unk Koon, Gramma and I had a silent moment of ahhhhhh!!! Just being happy and satiated and secretly relieved there was no family dispute whatsoever and I think we all heaved a deep, grateful sigh of relief. Then we burped.

That moment of silence triggered something in Rose’s head. She turned to me and asked, “Are you related to (name withheld on my dad’s side)” and I said yes, but I thought he was dead? Rose handed me a newspaper cut-out from The Big City and it read, “Career Criminal Strikes Again” or something very like that. I looked at my Gram and she had a inquisitive expression on her face. I laughed and read on.


It Ain't Easy Being Indian
Saturday, November 01 2014
 
Written by Ricey Wild,
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ricey wild.jpgAs Rezberry’s Graves Registrar I work to help people find a burial site in the cemetery for their deceased family members. Then their names are entered into what I call “The Book of the Dead.” No pun intended, it ain’t easy but someone’s got to do it.

There are some months that go by with no deaths at all and then there are times like this past month when quite a few people passed on. I send the family’s my condolences and my heartfelt sorrow for their loss. Recently a married couple contacted me and wanted information about reserving a spot where they can be by each other and his mother. They told me that after all the deaths recently it came to their attention to have things in order when that day will inevitably come.

I think it’s a wonderful idea, to pick out a spot but most people are kind of spooked by that idea. I’m not; in fact it makes sense to me so I’m gonna write up a “will” if you will and write my own obituary. That said, here I go.

The announcement will be “Kristine E. Shotley AKA Ricey Wild is Dead.” That’s it! Well that’s my first idea but if I must go into further detail I will. Ahem!!!

 


It Ain't Easy Being Indian
Saturday, October 11 2014
 
Written by Ricey Wild,
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ricey wild.jpgI’m so excited about Halloween! It’s the only time I can wear my kitty-cat ears in public, but I’m thinking this year I want to get painted up as a sugar skull. Yes, I have very important things on my agenda. More than that I’m over the moon that my life doesn’t suck right now. Sad as it is, if you have never suffered you don’t know what life’s blessings really are. Enjoy the good times my dear ones, enjoy!

Last month I shared a poopy story and I have another one but I’m not the poopetrator this time. I walked out to my mailbox and toward the end of my driveway was a huge pile of a dark substance that looked like poop with popcorn kernels in it. Upon closer inspection on the way back (no stack of checks to cash, hai!) I saw the seeds must be berries. I told my co-worker Chuck about it and he said, “Bear poop!” which is exactly the conclusion I came to. So, if you get a question on your test “Do bears poop in the woods?” The answer is not always. That bear didn’t make it behind a tree either.

Whenever Indians get together of course we ask who the other is related to and a lot of times it’s oneself; another long-lost cousin. Another favorite topic is ‘poor stories’ and my brother Mike W. has a doozy! He said his house was broken into but the thieves didn’t take anything! Of course I laughed at how pitiful that was and said they could have left you a five dollar bill at least for a new lock. Then Mike said, “Now here’s the kicker! All three of my guitars were pawned so they were safe.” I know, right?

 

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