by Kristine Shotley, a.k.a Ricey Wild

The summer is flying by faster than a Bingo Babe racing for her lucky chair. In the Northern climes where I reside summer is a rare and beautiful thing, short and if lucky, sweet.

All too soon there is a return of snot-freezing cold, aching bones and layers of tacky flannel. So I attempt to make every minute of my summer meaningful.

So why then, have I not done anything of significance? I been thinking about it and it's pissing me off. No concerts, no boat rides, no outdoor fun, just work.

Well, there was that one time, on the Park Point beach where I took my son and nephew. We had a watermelon to share, a seedless one, not as big as usual. We all had big chunks and there I was, sitting in the sand, dirty and wet with watermelon juice running down my cheeks and chin. People walking by waved and smiled at me, and I just smiled back and waved my sticky paws back at them, happy.

Then just lately, I got to sit in my favorite biker bar, which has an outdoor patio/tent and a view of the skyline of the Big City. It was a rare July night, cool breeze and no humidity, everyone was just grooving.

As many times as I have frequented this particular establishment, never once have I witnessed a brawl or any other kind of acting up. Literally everyone of every skin shade hangs out there; it's way cool and exactly the kind of atmosphere I miss most while living in the deep North woods. It is here that I am reminded constantly that I am NOT WHITE.

Not that I have a problem with that, I would not have it any other way, but being followed around Wal-Mart or other places when I have money in my pocket to spend is no fun; racism is still very much a part of the culture here and will likely stay so because the non-Natives are threatened by the Tribes new prosperity due to gaming revenues. It seems that relatively well-to-do Indians are an annoyance to the factory workers who have to drive their 2001 pickup another year and those pesky Indians are driving (GASP!) NEW CARS!

Well not me though, I'm far from that income level to drive a new car, I probably would have a hard time figuring out how to start it what with all the new gadgets and such. But I sure would like to try. I'd get one of those things that make it sound like a motorcycle and blast everybody's ears out, and really embarrass my 14-year-old son! He already cringes when I sing at the top of my very out of tune lungs to songs he considers cheated or weak.

But, that is my duty and my fate, to mortify my son with my very weird Mom-ish behavior. Funny thing is; my Mother never embarrassed me when I was a kid in front of my peers. She's still cool. Maybe it skips a generation.

When I was in the Big City I had a chance to go out with my best friend Melissa to see a live band in one of the most enduringly cool clubs in the city. I practically grew up there, partied with the bands and even danced onstage in a talent contest! (I was not discovered at that time, ha!) This time, to my deep disappointment and mortification, I did not go for fear of ending up not getting home in time to be responsible and take care of business.

Well, that's over. I am going to take some time off and go to the Big City and let loose upon an unsuspecting public. That crazy woman dancing over there, swinging her hair and yelling like a banshee? Yep, that will be me. That woman at the top of the most dangerous amusement park ride for the 11th time? That's right. Me.

But then I am resp-onsible for one very special kid, and my family needs to be able to hold their heads high, so I will keep my adventures within the realms of safety and good taste, mostly. I do hereby promise not to engage in mud wrestling, a spitting contest or let my skirt hike up too high exposing my nether spheres.

I really hate to admit to being a disappointment to myself but really, I have got to get out and do more before the summer crashes down on my ears with a 12-inch snowfall. I always say you don't take anything with you but memories, and I am about to embark on making some remarkable ones! I advise all of you who may be stuck behind walls or cubbies to do the same. What have you got to lose?

It's like my Unk Gene always used to say, There's nothing more pitiful than a sad, pale Indian, get out and golf! Or whatever gets your groove on.