Diners, Dives, and Powwows

This weekend I had hoped to combine a few of my favorite things: exploring new places, discovering great restaurants, and going to powwows. Well, I did do these things but you know how people say things aren't always what they seem? That's the way it was with the powwow I went to with my friends, Autumn and Bazille.

It all started at 7 a.m. yesterday (Saturday) morning. I reluctantly rolled out of bed and stumbled into the lounge on the third floor of the house I live in to wake up Auto and Baz. After getting them up and off the futon (which took some effort),  I tried looking up the location of the powwow on Google Maps about 15 times and it continued to send me to some random town in New Hampshire nowhere near where I was trying to go, I finally looked up the event on Facebook. I plugged the address into GMaps and it sent me to relatively the right place.

So, finally, by 8:15 we had the car packed up and we were on our way. When we got to Plymouth, we had breakfast at a diner called Main Street Station. It was REALLY cute and I love diners so we obviously had to eat here. The front of the restaurant is a converted train car and we sat in the corner booth that looks out onto Main St. and Plymouth State. I like judge places by how good their coffee and eggs are, and while the eggs were delicious, the coffee didn't compare to Mountain Creamery's in Woodstock, VT...and even then neither of them compare to Dunkin Donuts. Seriously, that coffee is delish. I thought people were joking when they said Dunkin Donuts had great coffee. Autumn had a Bagel breakfast sandwich with sausage, a Belgian waffle, Bazille had a English muffin breakfast sandwich with shredded ham and fried potatoes, and I had a custom "scrambler" with tomatoes, bacon, spinach, and cheddar cheese, fried potatoes, and toast. Honestly the best meal I've had in a while. A breakfast like that always reminds people of home. It's the small things that make you appreciate life a little bit more.

We visited a resale shop after we ate and perused the downtown area before heading over to the gymnasium. We had rushed around all morning because we thought grand entry was at 9 am because that's what the flyer we had said. When we check the event on Facebook though, it said noon, which was a relief because I take awhile to get dressed. The powwow and I got off on the wrong foot from the very start. Coming from Oklahoma, which to me is the powwow capital of the world and home of the BEST powwows in the country, I'm used to registering for my contest, getting a number, etc. But when I went to register, they only had me write down my name in the Women's category. No divisions, no number, no nothing. No mention of how much first place was.

Saturday in a Nutshell

It's not that I only dance for the money, because if that were the case, I'd be S.O.L. I don't ever win in Oklahoma and that could be for any number of reasons but we won't get into that now because it doesn't matter. I very much believe that if you have Native heritage that you should research and find roots in your community and know the traditional ways and your culture. This powwow didn't feel like the ones at home. It just didn't feel right and I don't think I need to say why it didn't feel right.

We ended up staying the entire time and advertising for our powwow in May which is during Mother's Day weekend. I bought some beads from a vendor called Wandering Bull (I was weary about it and still am but they had size 10 gold beads which I have been dying to get my hands on). I met some real interesting people while we were there though. I talked to a man who was Cherokee or Tonkawa (he wasn't sure because he had come to Cherokee country in Oklahoma and he left confused about who he really was). It's a story I've heard in different variations but his was interesting because he knew that my tribe was a part of Standing Bear and he talked about visiting the park in Ponca City. He introduced me to his son who was soooooo cute. He was (is? it was unclear...) married to a Wamponoag woman. His son kinda looked like the actor Evan Ross EXCEPT WAY CUTER. And we also met Deb, a free-spirited woman with a radio show in Vermont. She wants us to be on her radio show to do advertising for our powwow.

When we got back to Dartmouth after what seemed like the longest drive of my life because I was so freaking tired, Autumn and I went to dinner with Daryl and Jose at the Orient. I'm always so grateful to spend time with these two because I don't get to see them very often and, let's be honest, they are my favorite couple of all time. We ordered way too much Chinese food and it was super delish as usual. I avoid eating Chinese food because I mean, you stuff yourself and then an hour later, you're hungry again. After we finished dinner, Daryl, Autumn, and I headed over to Molly's for dessert and drinks (for Daryl). I tried drinking and stuffing myself with all of the caffeine I could but my body was just not having it. By the time we had left Molly's and stopped in CVS to grab a few things, I was so incredibly tired and as I like to call it "cracked out." It's a state when I just say whatever is on my mind and ramble and it's kind of just...not cool. At all. I sound crazed and weird. I finally got in bed around 11:30 and commenced my much needed 12 hour sleep sesh.

At the end of the day, I just appreciate my friends and good food. So, whether it be a glass of orange juice or winning first place, appreciate your blessings. They'll keep coming if you keep appreciating.

Fritz, You Really Got Me...

Have you ever looked at a painting and felt completely at peace? Has art ever spoken to you? The work of Fritz Scholder does that to me. Championed as an "Indian" painter, he only ever desired to be recognized as an American painter. I cannot be asked to choose a favorite period of his. Every painting says something different, speaks in a different tone. He was a skilled colorist and perhaps, it is not that he painted and changed the way Native people were portrayed in art, but the colors of his work that I love. His abstract style, vivid (and sometimes stark) coloring make me want to completely immerse myself in the paintings. His background colors can be so deep and rich that I want to climb inside that painting and stay there forever. What I love about Fritz is that he's not just a painter, he's a sculptor, photographer, and so many other forms of artists. He truly embodies the word 'artist'.

The first time I ever encountered Fritz's work was at the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C. in July of 2009. The exhibit was called Indian/Not Indian and featured his paintings that included Indian subject matter and those that did not. Immediately, I was sucked in and fell in love with the colors, context, and textures. Scholder was just so...interesting. His comical treatment of the stereotypes of Native peoples spoke to me like no one had before. I spent hours looking at the paintings, sculptures, drawings, photographs, etc. It had become a task to pull myself away from his work.

After that trip, I used any and every chance that came up to introduce people to his work. When I needed an escape, I would google his paintings. My favorites were Super Indian No. 2 and Indian No. 16. In the fall of 2011, the Native American Art at Dartmouth exhibit opened at the Hood Museum of Art. I was invited to dance at the opening ceremony and tour the exhibit afterwards. As soon as I walked in, I saw him. Dartmouth Portrait No. 17. I was in love again. I lost myself in the depth of the forest green, Dartmouth's color which I had come to admire so much. My eyes searched for the eyes of the figure in the portrait but never found them. I thought to myself, Fritz, how can it be a portrait if I can't look him in the eye? During my walkthrough of the exhibit, I stumbled upon more and more of his work and I simply couldn't believe my luck. Once again, I couldn't bear to pull myself away. [Sidenote: Often, at moments when I least expect it--a feeling overcomes me. The feeling is that "Yes, I am supposed to be at Dartmouth." You'll get more glimpses of these moments as we further explore my life. This moment at the Hood has been noted as a "moment."]

Later on in the fall, I went to New York City to visit one of my best friends, Daryl, and her boyfriend, Jose. While we (my other best friends Autumn and Greg) were there, we visited the NMAI in Manhattan. Lo and behold, dear old Fritz had a few pieces in the collection. His presence in art collections overwhelms me in the best way. When I find a Fritz somewhere, I just want to shout from the rooftops: LOOK AT THIS ART, IT'S GREAT, I LOVE IT AND SO SHOULD YOU. I suppose one could say Fritz Scholder is my art soul mate, the art love of my life, my art boo thang, my life pARTner (bad pun). I believe everyone has an artist that they can connect with on this level. You just have to look.

True Love.

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Links pertinent to this post:

Native American Art at Dartmouth - Hood Museum of Art, Hanover, NH

Indian/Not Indian - NMAI NY/DC

Youtube

Check my youtube for vlogs where I like to gripe about stuff. I'm like Kingsley except it's about real life.

http://youtube.com/cfawfawgoodson

Valentine's Day 2012

First of all, yes. I do believe Valentine's Day is a holiday created by the greeting card industry to make millions of dollars.

However, I love Valentine's Day. Sure, in the past I've been "depressed" because I didn't have a boyfriend to share it with but I always had family and friends that I loved and appreciated all the same. To be honest, I don't really have distinct memories of any specific Valentine's Days except for one year--2001. I was in third grade and the biggest Oklahoma State basketball fan there ever was. I knew all of the players and Eddie Sutton might as well have been right up there with God. One player--Fredrik Jönzén--was my absolute favorite. He was a 6'10" tall drink of water from Sweden (at least in my 9 year old opinion). As I am guessing most kids in elementary school do, my class made Valentine mailboxes out of brown paper grocery bags. To put it simply, my bag was a shrine to our Mr. Jönzén. Out of orange, black, white, peach, and brown construction paper I created Fredrik's likeness. Believe me, I think that was probably the most creative thing I have ever done. I remember putting so much work into the bag and being proud that he was the player I picked to put on my Valentine's bag. My mom decided I should send the bag to him because really how many 9 year old girls do what I did? [Answer: not very many.]

The thing about Fredrik that I haven't thought about in a very long time was the fact that not even a month prior, he had lost his teammate and roommate, Nate Fleming, in a fatal plane crash that had killed 9 other members of the Oklahoma State basketball staff and team. As a child who had a pretty good grip on what death was, I felt for Fredrik. Looking back on the incident now, I understand that Fredrik must have been dealing with a lot of emotions that were hard to face, especially as a college student. I bring this up because with the my Valentine's bag, I also sent him a letter. When I initially remembered sending him my Valentine's bag, I didn't remember writing to him about Nate. My mom reminded me that I not only wrote to him to tell him that he was my favorite player but also that I was sorry for the loss of his friend and roommate, Nate. Along with my letter, she sent Fredrik an 8x10 of my school portrait.

At the time, we lived in Manhattan, Kansas and didn't get to see O-State games very often. A couple of years later, we moved back to Stillwater, home of the Cowboys. As my mom recollects (because I seem to have blocked it from my memory), we went to an OSU game after Fredrik had graduated. It so happens that we had tickets in the South end GA and Fredrik was in attendance. Mom *says* that he continually looked at us (as if he recognized me from that 8x10 portrait) throughout the game. She also says that she tried to convince me to go up to him after the game and tell him who I was and that I had sent him the letter and the bag. Me being me, however, I was too shy to go up to the man who I admired for so long.

As I reminisce over that Valentine's Day of eleven years past, I feel very appreciative of that third grade girl. There are many lessons to be learned from my compassion, sympathy, and empathy. Going through adolescence with social media being shoved down my throat, I know I've become increasingly narcissistic, but times when I allow myself to reflect on the past, I can embrace the principles that were important to me before I started obsessing over which picture should be my profile picture. Now in 2012, I feel like I can appreciate my family, friends, and various other loved ones a little bit more.

And Fredrik, if you're reading this, you'll always be my first true Valentine. <3

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Links pertinent to this entry:

Dear Nate by ESPN's OTL, a great story and collection of letters about Nate Fleming and his family + Kyle Keller

My boo, Freddy