HOW BIG IS THAT DIAMOND?
NDN Love

When the United States government established Indians reservations the government keep title to all of the land on the reservations. By keeping the title to the thousand of acres of land the towns and counties that sprang up on or near reservations discovered that they could not tax Indian land. And we all know that tax revenue is what makes the world go around. Public schools are funded by tax revenue.

Schools located on or near Indian reservations cannot collect taxes on the Indian land within its school district. The result being school districts discouraged Indian children from attending public schools. As a result the government created boarding schools, and the Catholic and Episcopal churches also provided boarding schools for Indian children.

To correct his problem Congress in 1934 enacted the Johnson O’Malley Act which provided money to local school districts in lieu of taxing Indian land.

This is how I got to go to the public school in Bumduck, South Dakota. My parents were both products of church sponsored boarding school, although they never really complained about their boarding school experience they were determined that their six children would not attend a government or church boarding school.

Indians students were out numbered in the public schools and unfortunately for the Indian students the public school administrators forgot to tell the Indian parents that the government was providing Johnson O’Malley funds to aid Indian students. So the general perception was that Indians weren’t taxpayers and the financial burden of funding a school system fell entirely on the white taxpayers. This did not create a good environment for Indian children.

Despite the Johnson O’Malley funds the majority of Indian students still attended government boarding school mainly because their parents did not want their children exposed to the covert racism that existed in the public school system. 

Let me tell you right from the start the most effective remedy for racism is to look racism in the eye and spit. If, for instance a white boy calls you a dirty Indian, you do your best to be a clean Indian. If a white boy calls you stupid, you punch him out. You quickly learn that if you can run as fast, jump as high, shoot a basketball as good as the white boys how can they be better than you?

Simple really.

But, it was not always easy, because sometimes no matter how hard you try or how fast you can run we are not born financially equal. A hole in the sock or a worn out pair of shoes are stark reminders of our economic position in life. In America, we all know that money can level many a playing field, and the lack of money is the root of all evil.

The Nawizi Reservation from which I come is made up of five Indian communities - there is the Buffalo Chip, Big Cloudy, Enemy Wins, Fathers House, and Long Hollywood communities and each of them has a government run day school. When you finish the 8th grade you either go to a government or church boarding school or to the public school in Bumduck.

My family lived in the Long Hollywood community. It really wasn’t Hollywood, it actually was the Long Wood community but the members of the community thought it was funny to call our community Hollywood, so the name stuck. 

My name is Joe Blow Soft. Some kids when they are growing up worry about acne, me, I worried about my last name. I did not like my name, but what could you do, it was the family name. I did not want to take my mothers name because her maiden name was Lays Bad.

When I went to the day school in Long Hollywood some of the other Indian kids called me Joe Blow Hard. I forgot how many fights I got into with other Indian kids over my name. What was crazy about it was many of them had Indian names that were just as odd as mine. There was a Junior Little White Man, Billy White Man Runs Him, Violet Six Toes, and Gloria Wolf Guts to name a few.

You have probably heard the story about the Indian boy who came home after his first day at public school and was very upset. His father asks, “What is the matter, Son? “Dad why don’t Indian boys have names like white boy’s? “Well, son, Indian’s name their children different then white people, We name our children after the last thing we see before conception, why do you ask Broken Rubber, what’s the problem?”

My Mom and Dad saved their change for two years and went he had enough Dad went to the county courthouse and changed our name to Blow. He and Mom decided to drop the Soft, so we became the Blow family, not much of an improvement, but the other Indian kids at Long Hollywood day school quite calling me Joe Blow Hard. I was quite relieved that my father had made this decision. Changing our name didn’t make us any less Indian however. 

My dad Joe Blow, Senior, did not have a steady job, but he was such a good handy man and a outgoing gregarious type of guy that both white and Indian people counted him as their friend. He was quietly religious as was my mother. They had both gone to separate Episcopal sponsored boarding schools and met at a dance at Saint Mary‘s Girls School, in Springfield. She was from the Upper Cut Meat district on the Rosebud reservation. They were determined to not give up their six kids to the negative influences of the reservation.

Part Two

All eight grades attended school in one huge room at the Long Hollywood Day School. All of my brothers and sisters did real well in day school. Since I was the oldest I was the first to attend public school in Bumduck. I quickly discovered that attending the outlying Indian community schools put us behind in math and reading skills when we got to the public school.

It wasn’t Mrs. Stockdale’s fault, the white day school teacher, rather racist government bureaucrats who assumed that we Indian kids won’t amount to much anyway so why waste taxpayers money on a good education.

But, sometimes good genetics can overcome a number of obstacles and shortcomings. I weighted only 145 pounds soak and wet in my freshman year, but I was head and shoulder above every white kid in the school because of my natural speed. I ran anchor on the 440 and 880 varsity track team and we took the districts, and regionals, and we got 3rd place in the state track meet. I lettered in track my freshmen year.

My running talent caught the eye of the school officials and apparently they secretly used some of the Johnson O’Malley money to buy me a pair of track shoes and gave me a meal ticket to the school lunch program. It is amazing what a hot meal and a little recognition from running can do for your grades. I quickly caught up with the rest of my class and by the end of my freshmen year I was reading and writing at the 10th grade level.

Math was a different story. Integer‘s, Non-Negative Integers, Rational Numbers, Real Numbers, Natural Numbers, Whole Numbers. A number is a number in Long Hollywood! In Hollywood one shot can get you enough deer meat to feed a family of eight so who cares about Integers? 

The only good thing about the math classes was Jane Olufsen! The first time I laid my eyes on her I was star struck. It was love at first sight.

Jane sat across me in math class and for the first three months of our sophomore year she did not utter a word to me or even look across the aisle. She had no idea that the Big Buck sitting across the aisle from her was madly in love with her.

It was just before Thanksgiving break when Jane dropped her pencil and it bounced under my desk, I picked it up and handed to her and she said, “Thank you Joe.”

I didn’t even think she knew my name. I blushed, and just nodded.

In Indian vernacular a “Big Buck” is a real shy, bashful, backward Indian. When Donald Many Ducks and I entered the freshmen class we were the two biggest bucks in the Bumduck school system. After our successful track season I gained enough confidence in myself that I unconsciously relinquished my share of the Big Buck title to Donald.

After the bell rang signaling the end of the math class I gathered up my books and quietly followed behind Jane as she walked towards the exit, suddenly a book drops from her arms and lands in front of me, I stoop to pick up the book and we bump heads as she also bends over to pick up the book.

“Oow,” she says.

“Oh, excuse me, I’m sorry,” I say barely audible.

“I’m sorry to Joe, its my fault for being so clumsy.”

There she said my name again. I didn’t think she even knew my name and she said my name twice in fifteen minutes.

I pick up the book and hand it to her and Jane says, “Thank you,” with a broad grin.

“What are you going to do on Thanksgiving break,” she asks.

“I dunno,” I say. As soon as I dunno came out of my Big Buck mouth I knew it was a stupid thing to say.

“Probably just do some cross country running before it gets too cold,” I said, surprising myself that I could actually an utter a intelligent sentence besides a dumb “I dunno.”

“Do you run a lot,“ she asks?

I almost answered “I dunno,” but instead I said, “Yes, I run all the time, I like to run, it‘s kind of my passion, and my dad even runs with me, my whole family likes to run.”

“I guess so, Jane replies, you guys did real well in track last spring.” “Thanks again for picking up my stuff, sometimes I am so clumsy.”

“Okay, I gotta’ get going, I’ll see you in math class after the Thanksgiving break,“ she says.

“Okay,” I meekly reply.

After I put my books away in my locker I go looking for Donald Many Ducks. “Hey Donald come here you Big Buck!” We like to tease each other about being Big Bucks. “Come here Donald I got something to tell you.”

“What’s up Buck? he says smiling.

“Guess what? I talked to Jane Olufsen in math class today.”

“What did she do, call the cops on you for mentally raping her,” Donald said.

Donald may be the biggest buck in the school, but when he is around other Indian boys, he without a doubt is the most witty and outgoing of us all.

I laugh. “No, I actually talked to her, and she wanted to know what I was going to do on Thankgiving Break.”

“What did you tell her Buck, you’re going to mentally rape her again.” Donald’s laughs at this own joke.

“Screw you, you Big Buck,” I retort.

“I sit next to her in math class and she never said a word to me until today, I didn’t even think she knew my name, then she says, if you come to town I’ll sit with you in the movie.”

“Your lying ass, Donald says, Did she really say that?”

“Naw, but she knew my name Donald, I didn’t even think she knew my name, and she was really friendly, just like we were old friends.”

“How did all this come about,” Donald asks.

“Oh, she just dropped her pencil, then her book and I picked them up for her.’’ And, she just started talking, it was short, but it was sweet.”

“So, now what you gonna’ do Chief,” Donald asks.

“Why do I always gotta’ be Buck or Chief?”

“Because you are a Big Buck and don’t every forget it Chief,” Donald laughs.

The next day is Thanksgiving Day and my dad says, “Any of you kids want to go for a run with me?

“Momma is cooking up a big feast, deer meat, turkey, dog, and all the fixin, gotta run some of that off.”

“I’m not eating any dog meat,” my little sister’s hollers.

We all laugh, because daddy is always teasing us about eating dog. “Ok, it looks like just me and you Chaske, let’s run to the slaughterhouse and back.”

Part Three

My dad said at the church boarding school when some of the boys “Acted Up” the Itancan (leader) would make them run down to the Slaughterhouse which was about three miles away and back as punishment. For a forty-two year old man my dad is in pretty good shape. I share his passion for running, he has been running all his life. Before Indians owned cars he said young boys would be messengers between the different villages and running was second nature. He said that when the Indians quit running they are going to get all kinds of “white man diseases.” “Just you wait and see,” he always said.

My dad never drank much, can’t say that I ever seen him drunk, but he said, “Running is like drinking and getting a buzz, it’s actually enjoyable, but the difference is running is a natural buzz.”

Normally we run down the road three miles, turned around and run back, without stopping. My dad calls this the Slaughterhouse run. There is a sign post near the imaginary slaughterhouse and as we turn around for our return run we touch or slap the pole.

As we are neared the imaginary slaughterhouse I stop and ask my dad a question.

“Hold up dad, I want to ask you about something.”

Dad stops running, and instead runs in place, “What’s up son?”

“Well, I’m kinda’ embarrassed to say this, but there is this white girl at school, and I kinda’ like her, and I think she kinda’ likes me.”

“What’s her name, I might know her parents?”

Jane Olufsen.

“Olufsen, I don’t think I know the Olufsen family.”

“I really don’t know much about her Dad, I talked to her for the first time yesterday, I sit by her in math class and until yesterday we never talked to each other, I didn’t even think she knew my name.”

“I am kind of bashful so I don’t know what to do, I don’t even know if its legal for a Indian boy to go with a white girl, all I know is that I really like her.”

“Ha ha ha, that’s funny, yes, its legal, but it could get complicated.”

“What do you mean, Dad?”

“There are differences between them and us but the biggest is differences is money, most of them have money and most of us Indians don’t have two Indian head nickels to rub together, Mom does her best to keep our one room house clean and comfortable. Most white people live in houses that have many bedrooms, and a living room, a kitchen, and they even have a room that they use just to wash their clothes, and some of their houses have more then one bathroom.”

“Have you every been in one of their houses, Dad?” 

“Oh yaa, lots of times. I don’t just rakes their yards and change their storm windows and put on their screens, I go inside and clean their basements and other inside jobs. But, they have poor people too, and their poor seems poorer than our poor. For what its worth we got the Indian hospital and the Bureau of Indian Affairs.”

“But, there is also a lot of good white people.”

“It’s all about how you act, and if you act decent, and honest, take care of your family and yourself the best you can, that is all anyone can expect, and white people respect that.”

“So, if your asking my advice son about the white girl I’d say go for it, but remember being poor could make it complicated.”

“What do you mean, Dad?

Well, we don’t have any money, and at some point she is gonna’ want to go to the movie, or you’re going to want to buy her a pop or a candy bar, so then, what are you going to do?”

“I dunno.”

The Thanksgiving vacation came and went and it was back to school at the Bumduck public school system.

“Hey Joe the basketball coach wants you to come down to the gym, I think he wants you to try out for the junior varsity team.” “Hey did you ever play basketball before?” Prescott asked.

“Ya, we play all of the time,” I answered.

Coach Lief Earachesen asks, “Joe, are you coming out for basketball?” “I have been watching you in Phy Ed. You and your shot can help the team out.” How come you didn’t come out last year”

“I dunno,” I responded. Then I remembered that I wasn’t a Big Buck anymore, so I said, “I was kind of bashful and I didn’t think I was good enough.”

“Well, you’re good enough, but you could use some confidence,’’ I got the perfect solution for you Joe.”

I look at Coach Earachesen puzzled.

“You score twenty points a game and I believe that you are capable of doing just that, and I’ll guarantee you’ll be the most confident Indian boy at BHS.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you Joe, but I have noticed that the Indian boys have just as much ability as the white boys but they don’t have that same drive and determination.”

“It seems like the Indians boys don’t go all out, they just play on their natural ability and that seems to be good enough.”

“My own thinking is that there it is something in your culture that holds you back, maybe, they don’t like to out shine the other Indian’s, I don’t know what it is.”

I went out for the junior varsity team and averaged 24 points my first five games, and after the Christmas break I was moved up to the A squad. I came off the bench in my first A game and scored 10 points, but more importantly I was able to break the full court press our opponents slapped on us. I came off the bench the rest of the season and average 8.5 point, 5 assists, and 4 rebounds per game. I seldom turned the ball over.

In math class Jane and I talked regularly now. Her favorite sports was basketball and since I was having a good season we had plenty to talk about. We started to sit with each other in the school lunch room and hung out between classes. She actually sought me out and this pleased me greatly.

The only place I ever see Jane is at school so I did not have to buy her a pop or candy bar yet.

Part four

Sometimes racial prejudice can work in your favor. There was the stereotype in Bumduck that Indians couldn’t hold a job and that they quit school. Few Indian actually had a steady job in Bumduck and few Indians graduated from high school so it wasn‘t exactly a stereotype.

After basketball season we had another good track season - going to the state track meet and our team got 2nd in the mile relay, 3rd in the 880 relay, and I placed 4th in the 440. By my junior year I was a starter on the Bumduck “Fighting Scandinavian” basketball team.

The school officials were afraid that I would be just another Indian drop so they convinced one of the local car dealers to give me a job cleaning and polishing cars.

It didn’t pay much but it helped me buy my own school clothes and I had a few bucks in my pocket. I have suspected all these years that the school officials somehow funneled JOM money to the car dealer. 

In was early May and it was an unusually hot spring day so they let us out of school early. Jane was waiting for me at the front door and said, “Joe, let’s go down to Mervin’s Café and have a coke and some fries.”

“Okay.”

I remembered what my dad said and I had been preparing for this day. I had eight bucks in my pocket. The high school was seven blocks from Main Street.

Jane says, “Let’s stop at my house first, no one is home, I am going to drop my books off and change my clothes, man, it’s hot out!”

Just like my dad said there was a whole bunch of rooms in Jane’s house, her bedroom was on the second floor. I standing in the foyer, afraid to move, I was afraid I’d get the place dirty or break something.

Jane says, “Come on Joe.”

I follow her up the stairs to her bedroom. Jane takes off her sweater exposing her bra. She lays down on the bed and says, “I am going to lie down for just a second?” 

I am totally embarrassed.

“Come here Joe, sit on the bed.”

“Are you sure Jane?” I ask timidly.

She unsnaps her bra and then takes off her jeans. She is laying there with just her panties on.

I am going crazy with embarrassment and sexual excitement. I could not help but lust for her nice slender white body that did not appear to have one ounce of body fat.

I sit down on the bed, she grabs my arm and pulls me down to her. We engage in passionate kissing. She pulls me on top of her and next she‘s on top of me. This was my first sexual encounter. Well, it wasn’t really sex, we never had sex, but it was as good as sex.

Or, as Donald Many Ducks would describe it later, “Wrestlin’ and swappin’ spit with a white chick.”

We wrestled around on her bed and we both got all hot and sweaty and she finally says, “We better get out of here before someone comes home.”

She puts her jeans and a blouse on and as we leave the house I say, “Do you have a room just for washing your clothes?”

“Here, let me show you the laundry room,” she says. 

As we walk toward Main Street Jane says, “That was pretty fun, huh, Joe?”

“Don’t laugh but I raped you in my mind before,” Jane said.

What could I say? I wasn’t a Big Buck anymore but I was genuinely lost for words. All I could muster was, “Ya, it was cool.” 

“I liked you from the first time you sat down next to me in math class but I could tell you were real bashful and besides I was going with Sven What’s-His-Name, so that is why I didn’t talk to you right away, I bet you thought I was pretty stuck up, huh?”

“The day I dropped my pen was the same day I broke up with Sven, so I faked dropping my pen and book.” 

“I asked my mom and dad if it would be alright to have a Indian boy friend.” “I didn’t think they would say okay, but they said they knew Indian people and they said Indians are just like us but we got more money then they do.”

“They did say it could be complicated going with an Indian.“ “But that wasn’t so complicated was it, Joe?”

“No, pretty fun, actually,” I replied.

“What do your friends think about you and me going together Joe?” 

“They say it’s not going to last, that’s about all, and they ask if white girls are different then Indian girls.”

“So what did you tell them”

“I tell them I dunno, I never went with a Indian girl before.”

“How about us going to the movie Friday,” I ask.

Jane and I had more wrestling’ and spit swappin’ session in her bedroom. She turned me every way but loose, as Donald Many Ducks would say later.

In May 1961 Jane and I graduate from Bumduck high school. After wrestling with Jane one last time I bid Jane goodbye and left for Army basic training in early July and was assigned to the Army Security Agency where I was awarded a top secret security clearance.

Loyalty to the United States was a key element in the awarding of a top secret security clearance. You cannot find a more loyal group of people than the American Indian.

At first I liked the Army so I re-enlisted, but after six years I opted to get out and went to work for the National Security Agency. I traveled all over the world for NSA.

Not bad for a Big Buck from Long Hollywood.

On a trip to Johannesburg, South Africa, in 1980, I bought a high quality 2.5 carat diamond for a real good price with the crazy notion that I might bump into Jane Olufsen someday.

I was never in one place long enough so I never got married. I thought of Jane often but as the years passed I quit thinking about her and eventually set the 2.5 carat diamond into a man’s ring.

I retired from NSA in 2004 and returned to Bumduck in 2006 for a visit and was having breakfast at Mervin‘s Café. I did not know that Jane and Heidi Smith were also eating breakfast in Mervin’s.

I did not recognize Jane or Heidi as they passed by my table. They looked like two fat old white ladies. It was Heidi who first noticed me and stops and asked “Is that you Joe Blow?”

“Yes, it is.”

Jane Olufsen easily weighted 250 pounds.

She waddles toward my table and to my amazement she notices the 2.5 carat diamond on my ring finger. The overhead light reflected on the diamond just as she approached the table.

Her first words to me in 45 years were “How big is that diamond?”

I almost said, “How big are you,” but I didn’t, instead I said, “It‘s 2.5 carats and it could have been yours.” 

The end.