[1] My kid sister Cheryl and I always bragged about our Sioux grandpa, Joe Iron
Shell. Our friends, who had always lived in the city and only knew about Indians
from movies and TV, were impressed by our stories. Maybe we exaggerated and
made Grandpa and the reservation sound glamorous, but when we'd return
home to lowa after our yearly summer visit to Grandpa, we always had some
exciting tale to tell.
[2] We always had some authentic Sioux article to show our listeners. One year
Cheryl had new moccasins that Grandpa had made. On another visit he gave me
a small, round, flat rawhide drum which was decorated with a painting of a
warrior riding a horse. He taught me a real Sioux chant to sing while I beat the
drum with a leather-covered stick that had a feather on the end. Man, that really
made an impression.