Tag Archives: miscellaneous

Tribes, Reservations, Tribal Sovereignty and the BIA

A lot of changes and challenges are lurking in the wings whispering to the 21st Century.  Some of those will happen where nobody much will see them except the people on the receiving end.  One of those probably includes the Indian Reservation system inside the US.

By hindsight the entire construction appears to have been a cynical wink-and-nod method of getting the tribes out of the way long enough and quietly enough to rape from them with a corncob and lie whatever they’d been promised.  This worked fairly well as demonstrated in Arkansas, the ‘Cherokee Strip’ in Oklahoma, the Black Hills of South Dakota when gold was discovered, and countless other places.

There must have been some vague notion that eventually the tribal members would be absorbed into the general population to live and work alongside whites and other ethnic groups.   But any attempt to visualize a long-term role for the tribes living on the Rez resulted in thinking about something else, instead.

Chief Supreme Court Justice John Marshall took a lot of the fun out of the now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t reservation philosophy and launched federal trusteeship of tribal lands into a new phase.

The Federal Trust Responsibility In A Self-Determination Era
By Lynn H. Slade

http://library.findlaw.com/1999/May/20/132928.html

“Chief Justice John Marshall’s early opinion in Cherokee Nation v. Georgia is bedrock: describing tribes as “domestic dependent nations,” Justice Marshall characterized tribes as weak and unsophisticated, reliant upon the protection of the United States:

“They occupy a territory to which we assert a title independent of their will, . . . meanwhile they are in a state of pupilage. Their relation to the United States resembles that of a ward to his guardian.(7)

“Marshall’s premise, that tribes need federal protection of their lands and resources, continues to animate contemporary trust doctrine opinions.”

But today, in a time of profound national debt and joblessness the financial picture of the tribes is certain to raise legislative eyebrows.  $6.5 billion dollars in visible expenditures to maintain the current system with no end in sight seems unlikely to survive in an economic climate where the only certainties are military, law enforcement, bailouts of banks and muli-nationals, and benefits for politicians.

Cost of running the Bureau of Indian Affairs:

http://www.doi.gov/budget/2012/data/pdf/testimony_INTH_LH20110330.pdf

STATEMENT OF LARRY ECHO HAWK ASSISTANT SECRETARY – INDIAN AFFAIRS BEFORE THE SUBCOMMITTEE ON INTERIOR, ENVIRONMENT, AND RELATED AGENCIES COMMITTEE ON APPROPRIATIONS U.S. HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES ON THE PRESIDENT’S FISCAL YEAR 2012 BUDGET REQUEST FOR INDIAN PROGRAMS IN THE DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR MARCH 30, 2011

“The FY 2012 budget request for Indian Affairs programs within the Department totals $2.5 billion in current appropriations.

“This reflects $118.9 million, a 4.5 percent decrease, from the FY 2010 enacted level. The budget includes a reduction of $50.0 million to eliminate the one-time forward funding provided in 2010 to Tribal Colleges and Universities; a reduction of $41.5 million for detention center new facility construction due to a similar program within the Department of Justice; and a reduction of $22.1 for administrative cost savings and management efficiencies.”

Cost of providing health care for tribal members:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indian_Health_Service#Budget

The 2010 United States federal budget includes over $4 billion for the IHS to support and expand the provision of health care services and public health programs for American Indians and Alaska Natives (AI/ANs). Investments in the Indian health system will focus on improving the health outcomes of AI/ANs and promoting healthy Indian communities. The Budget builds upon resources provided in the recovery Act for IHS.[15] This covers 2.5 million Native Americans and Alaskan Natives for an average cost per person of $1,600, far less than the average cost of health care for other United States Citizens.[16]

The Indian Health Service (IHS) is an operating division (OPDIV) within the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (HHS). IHS is responsible for providing medical and public health services to members of federally recognized Tribes and Alaska Natives. IHS is the principal federal health care provider and health advocate for Indian people, and its goal is to raise their health status to the highest possible level. IHS provides health care to American Indians and Alaska Natives at 33 hospitals, 59 health centers, and 50 health stations. Thirty-four urban Indian health projects supplement these facilities with a variety of health and referral services.

A 2010 report by Senate Committee on Indian Affairs Chairman Byron Dorgan, D-N.D., found that the Aberdeen Area of the Indian Health Service(IHS) is in a “chronic state of crisis.”[1] “Serious management problems and a lack of oversight of this region have adversely affected the access and quality of health care provided to Native Americans in the Aberdeen Area, which serves 18 tribes in the states of North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska and Iowa,” according to the report.

IHS was established in 1955 to take over health care of American Indian and Alaska Natives from the Bureau of Indian Affairs. The provision of health services to members of federally recognized tribes grew out of the special government-to-government relationship between the federal government and Indian tribes. This relationship, established in 1787, is based on Article I, Section 8 of the Constitution, and has been given form and substance by numerous treaties, laws, Supreme Court decisions, and Executive Orders. The IHS currently provides health services to approximately 1.8 million of the 3.3 million American Indians and Alaska Natives who belong to more than 557 federally recognized tribes in 35 states. The agency’s annual budget is about $4.3 billion (as of December 2011).

EmploymentThe IHS employs approximately 2,700 nurses, 900 physicians, 400 engineers, 500 pharmacists, and 300 dentists, as well as other health professionals totaling more than 15,000 in all. The Indian Health Service is one of two federal agencies mandated to use Indian Preference in hiring. This law requires the agency to give preference hiring to qualified Indian applicants before considering non-Indian candidates for positions. IHS draws a large number of its professional employees from the U.S. Public Health Service Commissioned Corps. This is a non-armed service branch of the uniformed services of the United States. Professional categories of IHS Commissioned corps officers include physicians, physician assistant’s, nurses, dentists, pharmacists, engineers, environmental health officers, and dietitians. Many IHS jobs are in remote areas as well as Rockville, MD Headquarters, and at Phoenix Indian Medical Center. In 2007, most IHS job openings were on the Navajo reservation. 71% of IHS employees are American Indian/Alaska Native.[2]

Efficiency and Public Law 93-638 (Tribal Self Determination – 1975)

More.gov lists four rated areas of IHS: federally-administered activities (moderately effective), healthcare-facilities construction (effective), resource- and patient-management systems (effective), and sanitation-facilities construction (moderately effective). All federally-recognized Native American and Alaska Natives are entitled to health care. This health care is provided by the Indian Health Service, either through IHS-run hospitals and clinics or tribal contracts to provide healthcare services. IHS-run hospitals and clinics serve any registered Indian/Alaska Native, regardless of tribe or income. Tribal-contract health care facilities serve only their tribal members, with other qualified Indians/Alaska Natives being offered care on a space-available basis. This policy makes it difficult for an Indian who leaves their tribal home for education or employment to receive health care services to which they are legally entitled. An IHS fact sheet clarifies that Indians are also eligible to apply for low-income health care coverage provided by state and local governments, such as Medicaid. IHS 2007 third-party collections were $767 million, and estimated to be $780 million in 2008.[3] Most tribally-operated health services clinics require Native Americans who qualify for Medicaid to use their benefits at their clinics, supplementing the block-grant funds they receive from IHS to serve their tribe’s medical needs. This has the potential to create profits in federally-funded. tribally-operated health clinics[citation needed].

The Indian Health Service suffers from inadequate funding, and is unable to adequately serve the population it is trying to serve.[4] Some of those who are served by the system are not satisfied with the efficiency of IHS. A contributor to Indianz.com, a website for Native American news, feels that Native Americans are “suffering” at the hands of IHS.[5] She feels IHS is underfunded, and necessary services are unavailable. Others have concerns that the restrictions of the Indian-preference policy do not allow for the hiring of the most highly-qualified health professionals and administration staff, so quality of care and efficiency of administration suffer.[citation needed]

IHS also hires Native/non-Native American interns, who are referred to as “externs”; one position available every summer at area offices is the Engineering Externship. Participants are paid according to the GS pay-grade system, which is beneficial for college students. Their GS level is determined according to credit-hours acquired from an accredited college. Engineering Extern participants generally practice field work as needed and office work.
The Federal Trust Responsibility In A Self-Determination Era, by Lynn H. Slade continues:

These trust concepts and changing visions of the tribe require re-examination of trust doctrine. It is, at the very least, incongruous for a tribe to seek or obtain regulatory primacy, yet still claim the need for a guardian’s protection from improvident transactions. It seems indisputable that the skill and knowledge sets and administrative machinery required to manage leasing and mineral contracting are of no higher an order than those required to administer the provisions of the Clean Air Act and Clean Water Act. Congress’ provision for such delegations impliedly rejects the central premise underlying the trust doctrine, that tribes cannot be trusted to manage their affairs.(198) Moreover, some tribes are insisting that resource developers recognize the tribal government and tribal courts as having general jurisdiction over them and the same powers as state governments.(199) If these trends continue, the premise of a need for federal guardianship inherent in Chief Justice Marshall’s description of tribes as “domestic dependent nations” increasingly will be false.

Any way you cut it things aren’t going to be easy for the tribes during the 21st Century.  As demonstrated by Social Security, having anything in the federal trust is a lousy idea, even if it seems untouchable.  And a middle-class citizenry that can’t afford health care for itself, pay for its own schools and libraries, and chaffs under its own costs for housing, roads, sewers isn’t likely to be sympathetic to a genre of people who have that provided by the government.

A few days of focus by daytime talk radio hosts would change the whole tone of discussions about reservations and lands held in trust by the US government.  If I had any land in Federal Trust I think I’d be trying to figure out how to get it out before someone deeds it to the Chinese or Citibank.

Old Jules

Sundragons and Other Serious Stuff

Good morning readers.  I’m gratified you came by for a read.  There’s a lot going on in the Universe this morning, but most of it is too big, or too little to get a gander at, so I’m going to give you an opportunity to shrug it all off as I’m doing.

If you’re the sort of person who sees herds of cattle, naked women, elephants, alligators and stagecoaches in clouds, mountains and whatnot you’ll see immediately what was on Old Sol’s mind yesterday:

Which doesn’t require any further discussion except to say:

Which also speaks for itself.  Enough said about that.

 

Unless you want to hear it in song.

But if you’re feeling more in the serious and unsmiling turn-of-mind this morning you probably won’t grasp the implications and ramifications of that.

Instead you’d probably prefer something you can’t shrug off.  For you, I suggest you have a look at the comet Lovejoy as it passed away from the sun:

http://spaceweather.com/archive.php?view=1&day=19&month=12&year=2011

http://spaceweather.com/images2011/18dec11/spiraltail_strip.jpg

All that wiggling and wagging it’s doing with the tail might be the most interesting thing human beings have had an opportunity to view since the invention of the camera, the rocketship, the atom and other genius gadgetry of modern life including toasters.

Lovejoy is telling you something it might take human beings a longish time to hear, if they ever get around to hearing it at all.  Which seems about equally likely.

With the possible exception of the cats, chickens, and the occasional folks out there who see it but ain’t about to say anything.

But I’m not going to say any of that.  Instead, I’ll just say I’m figuring I might post something later along more interesting lines.

Thanks for coming by.

Old Jules

Mysterious “white web” found growing on nuclear waste

I’ll leave it to you to decide what’s strange about it. Cob-webs around here are the norm. Maybe it has something to do with the nuclear waste part of things. Old Jules

Got A Holiday Greeting From The Time Department

Hawaii Konate, the people who keep me posted on what time it wasn’t over the past while, what time they think it probably isn’t now, and what time they’re middling sure it won’t be in the future sent me a nice greeting by email.

The card arrived in my hotmail email box at 3:25 AM someone’s time, maybe mine, maybe theirs, maybe hotmail’s.   I’m not sure whether that picture is of something at the Hawaii site, or whether it’s wherever they speak the language at the top of the circular they send out:  BUREAU INTERNATIONAL DES POIDS ET MESURES, ORGANISATION INTERGOUVERNEMENTALE DE LA CONVENTION DU METRE. [Muddy muddy muddy etcetera]

But even if I knew what time it wasn’t in that city where the place on the card isn’t, I still wouldn’t know what that thing is they sent me a picture of wishing me a Merry Christmas.

I generally don’t like people telling me what kind of Christmas to have, but especially I don’t like them telling me how to have a whole year.    But in this instance, they did let themselves be nailed down on the thorny issue 0f 2012.  2012, unless they’re being cunningly sarcastic, isn’t a time that won’t happen.

The card didn’t come with one of the circulars they send out telling what time it hasn’t been all over the place, what time they don’t think it is now, and what time they don’t think it will be in the future.  That would be unsettling if they hadn’t gone ahead and mentioned 2012 in the card.

So maybe there was no authoritarian motive behind telling me what kinds of Christmas and 2012 to have.  Maybe they were being subtly reassuring.

I suppose it’s probably best not to try to second-guess them.

Old Jules

A Few Things Zuni – Part 1

During the early 1990s the Coincidence Coordinators conspired to make Zuni Pueblo and the geography surrounding it a major focus in my life.  I mentioned a bit about Zuni here:  This is Zuni Salt Lake, but over the next couple of whiles I’d like to tell you a bit more about them. 

At the time the overwhelming part of my salary was paid by FEMA and a part of my job involved mitigation of recurring natural disaster damage behind federal disaster expenditures.  In New Mexico a huge percentage of the recurring expense was located on Navajo lands, but flooding on the Zuni River reared its head as a concern during the same time period.

Meanwhile, the Coincidence Coordinators got into the act.  The search for the lost gold mine was being driven by documents from the US Archives, New Mexico State Archives, fragments of mention from 19th Century newspapers, later-in-life memories of men connected to the events and documented in books, topo maps and other researched sources.

Keith and I, examining and submerging ourselves together during that phase of my search, concluded the areas to the east of Zuni, and to the south were prime candidates for the location.  Candidates based on what we knew at the time.  Wilderness Threats.

By my own recollection that phase of the search lasted only three, maybe four years, maybe less.  But it led by numerous routes, into more than a decade of closer association with Zuni, both as a tribe, and as a geography.  I’ll be posting more about that, about Keith’s and my explorations, about the Zuni pueblo and the people living there, and about some aspects of the history and culture.

But I’ll begin by posting this piece of doggerel I wrote a long time ago about my first visit to the Zuni Rez and my first encounter with the Zuni and Ramah Navajo.  That meeting with the Zuni Tribal Council burned itself into my memory as few things I’ve experienced this lifetime have.

Flooding on the Zuni land
Tribal chairman calls
Upstream Ramah Din’e band
Over grazing galls.

Ancient ruins I travel past
Forgotten tribes of old
And finally arrive at last
On Zuni land as told:
Tribal council meets, he chants
A time warp history.

I Listen long the raves and rants
And river mystery:
Navajo must have his sheep
To have his wealth, it’s plain.
Too many kids, too many sheep
Too little grass and rain.
Forgotten white man wrongs and deeds
The raids of Navajo
Corn that didn’t sprout the seeds
And stumbled Shalako
More sheep grazed than in the past
Arroyos grew wide and deep
Siltation settled hard and fast
In riverbed to sleep.

Navajo siltation choked
An ancient channel bed
Water rose above the banks
200 cattle dead
Houses flooded, ruined cars
Fields of grain were lost
A playground field a channel mars
And who should bear the cost?

The tribal chairman Ramah band
Listened to my tale
Stony silence, steady hand
Informed me I would fail.

“If those Zunis don’t like floods
Tell them to reduce the chances;
We’ll hold back our streams of muds
If they’ll call off their damned rain
dances.”

(Doggerel to smile by)

Old Jules

Sunday morning thoughts December 18, 2011

Good morning readers.  I’m obliged you came for a visit and read.

I’m going to start this morning by telling you something you ought to know already, but mightn’t:

Sometimes I take myself a lot more seriously than is justified by my history of being ‘right’ compared to my history of being ‘wrong’.  People who’ve known me forever are acutely aware of this.  The terms, ‘alarmist‘ and ‘melodramatic‘ have occasionally been used with brutal accuracy by people in a position to arrive at informed judgements.

Keep in mind I’m the guy who dumped a second career within a couple of years of being able to draw a hefty retirement check because I believed so thoroughly Y2K was going to happen, leading eventually to my current situation.  Keep in mind I also spent a lot of years climbing and unclimbing mountains searching for a lost gold mine I believed I’d find.

And keep in mind I don’t regret any of it.

So with all that in mind, I think those of you who read my ‘indefinite detention’ posts of the past few days would be well advised to examine other opinions, even though I still believe I’m generally right.  My believing it shouldn’t carry any weight for you.

Here’s another viewpoint offering up a mitigated set of possibilities regarding the same situation and the activities leading to it:

Addicting Info – The Knowledge You Crave http://tinyurl.com/cjs4xav

The NDAA Is A Horrible Bill, And Why Obama Is Going To Sign It
December 17, 2011 By Wendy Gittleson

If you’ve formed any opinions based on anything I’ve said here I think you owe it to yourself to read it.   Wendy Gittleson is certainly a lot more qualified to have an opinion than I am, most likely.  Even though I don’t necessarily agree.

Old Jules

Get a Job! Internment/Resettlement Specialist, US Army

This brought a chuckle for me this morning. Amazing the stuff you find on these blogs. Jules

asians art museum's samurai blog

Updated 12/31/11.

At www.goarmy.com, for real:

“Dust storm at this War Relocation Authority center where evacuees of Japanese ancestry are spending the duration.” Dorothea Lange, Manzanar, CA, July 3, 1942. National Archives and Records Administration, Records of the War Relocation Authority, 210-G-10C-839.

UPDATE (12/31/11)

We’re screwed: President Obama Signs Indefinite Detention Bill Into Law (ACLU press release, 12/31/11)

https://twitter.com/#!/mrdaveyd/status/153221156755877889

 

View original post

I’d Sure Like to Have Me One of Them Drones

Morning readers.  I’m obliged you came by for a read.

I’ve been studying on that picture of the pretty little airplane those whatchallit, Iraning people found in the sky and captured.  I’m fairly impressed and would sure like to have me one, even though I haven’t figured out exactly how it works.

 

That airplane doesn’t have much in the way of control surfaces and weight-and-balance might be tricky.  Not as much rudder on it as a person might wish.

I’m wondering if a person might lure one down with an orange jump suit, Helicopters and Orange Jump Suits.  If those things are flying around some silly-assed place like whatchallit, Irang, where there’s nothing to see but a bunch of Persians, seems to me they’re bound to be flying around here where there’s really good stuff.

Anyway, they can’t be that hard to catch.  A man with a CB radio might be able to snag one, I’m thinking, if the orange jump suit didn’t do the trick.

I’ll have to study on it after I’ve got it to decide whether it’s best to put a harness underneath of the hang-glider variety, or mount a saddle on top.  I don’t like the idea of riding it bareback the way Slim Pickens rode that bomb.  Until a person got the feel for it, that thing might just buck some.

Besides, I’m used to more rudder than that and I’ve never flown anything without a tail section.  Likely I’d want to fly it around treetop level a while so I didn’t have too far to fall at first.

If I’m good maybe old Santy will bring me one.

Old Jules

 

Indefinite Detention, Rip Van Winkleism, and Respecting the Future

Yesterday I was talking on the phone with my friend, Rich, in North Carolina.  We were discussing this ‘indefinite detention’ thing going on in Congress and the fact it’s a lead-pipe cinch it’s going to happen.   The US Government is defacto eliminating habeas corpus.

The conversation kept drifting back to the question, “How in the world did we get here?  How did it come to this?”

The answer always came back the same.  “We followed the yellow brick road.”  We did it.  He did it.  I did it.  We all did it.  We saluted, marched in step, ignored the unpleasant obvious, and allowed ourselves to be cogs in a giant wheel.   We closed our eyes and Rip Van Winkled our way into this.

We abdicated.  When we saw our energy needs exceeding our capabilities to produce energy we took the comfortable route of ‘protecting’ sources someone else owned and kept the thermostats where they were.   We wanted government services we couldn’t afford, so we signed the chits to let our descendants pay for it.  When we saw the elected officials rubber-stamping the desires of multi-national corporations to move our production and manufacturing to countries where someone else could do it, we tacitly helped fill the void with government jobs.   We watched them add layer after layer of new cop functions at every level.  We watched them militarize the police throughout the country.  We cheered as they imposed increasingly draconian measures of ‘protection’ of us against the microscopic threat our lives would be touched by terrorism.

We marched in step because it was the easy way and trusted someone else would pay the price.

We’re there now.  There’s no going back.  There’s not a damned thing you, I, anyone can do about it.  It’s time to salute the future.  Congress and the president wouldn’t have done this if they didn’t plan to use it.

Sometime during the next few years you’re going to have some choices to make.  You can watch them haul off people you don’t like for indefinite detention.  You are going to watch that, whether you like it or not.  But since you don’t like those people anyway it will be easier to accept.

So long as it’s someone else.

We’re there and we’ve gotten what we paid for.

I don’t know about you, but it seems to me to be a strange place to find ourselves.  Hog-tied, handcuffed, at the absolute mercy of the whims of people we were crazy ever to trust and really never did.

Old Jules

Post-Y2K Cross-Cultural Trials, Trucks and Unwelcome Wisdom

The Cohoe women raised and sheared the sheep, made the dye, hand-wove this rug.

As the post-non-Y2K hard times hardened, I did a lot of scrambling trying to make ends meet. One by-product of that squeeze was that I began doing some trading with the tribes for pottery, rock art, rugs, and other products to resell.

This got me acquainted with a Navajo man who became a running buddy for a while. Curtis Cohoe.  [Not to be mistaken for his namesake, the Mescalero referred to on several posts.]  A man about 50 years old. Pine Hill (Self-determination) Rez. Good family, a generation earlier. His mom and aunt still raise sheep, shear, dye the wool with dye they make from crushed rock and plants, and weave good rugs the old way.

Early in his life, Curtis started out pretty well.  He was intelligent, talented, and I’ve always assumed he must have attended a university.  When he was being an artist everything he did was in demand.  He was an excellent shade-tree baling-wire and chewing-gum vehicle mechanic, and he could chop a cord of wood with an axe almost as fast as I could cut one with a chainsaw.

Worked for the US Forestry Service as a fire fighter, then as a Ranger in California until things went haywire. Back in New Mexico, a cop raped his younger sister and got by with it. Curtis came back and beat the cop to death with his fists, which got him 10 years in prison.

Once that decade of bars was over, Curtis never really got back onto the right track. He had a lot of anger in him, and he had some brothers who were in and out of prison a lot, who kept the pressure on from the law. (Curtis was fairly frightened of one of the brothers, whom he described as a bad-ass. The other was an evangelical preacher who sold some drugs and stole in between times).

Curtis was much of a man in a lot of ways when he was sober, or mostly sober. I’d known him a considerable while before I ever saw him drunk, never realized he was sometimes a drinker.  He shifted his residence frequently between the family place on the Rez and Grants, New Mexico.  Maybe that’s how it escaped my notice. 

But early in our friendship one day I drove up to a place he was doing some artwork painting on a table top in an alleyway next to the railroad track in Grants. I was just in time to see three semi-drunk Din’e toughs in their mid-20s approach him, exchange a few words, and start swinging.

By the time I got out of the truck to help him he didn’t need any help. The two fully conscious ones got to their feet and left at a stumbling run.  The less-conscious one stuck around long enough for me to try to stop the bleeding by tying a bandana around his head while Curtis intermittently kicked in his ribcage.  I’m glad I never met the brother Curtis was scared of and considered a badass.

I don’t know whether I knew Curtis didn’t have a license to drive an automobile.  He frequently drove my truck running errands and chores.  I had no qualms about loaning the Ford pickup to him when he needed to go out to the Rez for one reason or another provided my old Isuzu was running okay. 

One day we were preparing for a trading trip to Shiprock and Curtis left in the Ford to get it gassed up for the trip.  When he didn’t come back for a couple of hours and I saw a wrecker go past towing my truck I immediately went over to the wrecker to find out what was going on. 

“Is this yours?”  He grinned because he knew damned well it was mine.  My apartment was no more than 150 yards from his yard and we both occasionally had coffee a few feet apart in the Chinese restaurant between his place and mine.  “Your damned Indian’s in jail.  Towing fee on the truck’s $50.”

What did he do?”

“They stopped him for a routine traffic check.  He didn’t have a license and when they called it in they found out he’d had a lot of DWIs.  He’s going to be in there a while.”

I paid out the $50 to get the truck out of hock and seethed about it considerably.  It would have been too easy for it all not to happen and I found myself thinking Curtis had about outlived his usefulness in my affairs.

But mutual acquaintances brought me a message from Curtis asking me to bail him out of jail, telling me how sorry he was about it all.  He was going to be stuck in there for at least six weeks if he couldn’t raise bail.  Swore he’d pay me back everything he’d cost me.

I wasn’t Mister Moneybags, but I could squeeze $500 if I had to, and I did over a few days, selling things cheaper than I’d intended.  Once he was released he brought a friend from the Rez over and told me he was going back to Pine Hill for a while.  Asked if he could borrow my pickup for his friend to drive him back out there.  His friend had a license, and I loaned it to him, figuring it would be gone for a day, maximum.

The truck never came back.  Curtis and his friend evidently got drunk on the way to Ramah and got chased by a Navajo-hired cop on the State Highway until they ran the truck into a tree, Curtis driving.  I wasn’t long finding out he was being held in the private penal facility outside Grants, and that he was looking at two years in prison, and I was looking at losing the bail money.

A week or two later I heard a guard had grabbed him and Curtis knocked him down.  He was now looking at no-less-than five years hard time.

Everything else being equal I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s still there.

Sometime afterward I had a buyer for one of the rugs his mother and aunt made, so I stopped in on her for a visit at Pine Hill.  Naturally the subject of Curtis came up.

He needed to stay out of town,” was all she said.

Old Jules