Please Tip The Indians

One of my favorite pictures from when I was little is me and my cousin Sharon on a Native American reservation in Oklahoma. I'm guessing I was about 2 years old. Sharon and I are posing with two Native Americans dressed in full regalia. Sharon looks like she is about to have a heart attack (my mother confirms she was terrified of the Native Americans and had been crying right before the picture, which is ironic because her mother, Kathy, is half Cherokee) but I'm being held by the taller guy and instead of looking at the camera, I'm staring right into his face with an amazed look and my little hand is touching the feathers on his breastplate.

So I've been carting this picture around for half my life and I couldn't wait to make a larger copy of the original 3x5 photo for the legacy wall Paul and I started over the weekend. Yesterday, me and my cutie picture went to Walgreens where I printed a beautiful 5x7 ... and promptly noticed a sign just to the left of me and my guy that says "Please Tip The Indians For Pictures". I checked the 3x5 version and sure enough, there it was, plain as day, "Please Tip The Indians For Pictures". In my million times of looking at this picture I never did noticed that stupid sign or I surely would have torn up the photo during my early adolescent years as a Socialist. Of course, I would have very much regretted that action later, but nonetheless, I read Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee and A People's History of The United States. And in spite of growing up in New England and suffering through repeated field trips to Plymouth Rock, I know the real story of Christopher Columbus, the Pilgrims, and Thanksgiving. So, just like Chief Illiniwek , who was retired a few days ago here in Illinois, I promptly retired "Please Tip The Indians" back to the photo album. Oh the irony.