Stories for Indigenous People’s Day: remembering, reflecting, and wondering what it means to be an American in this moment?

Here are some stories for Indigenous People’s Day. These stories are personal reflections, and my first story is about how I discovered Native American literature. Thinking back, my interest was most likely sparked by my mother’s stories about her brother Gerald and the time he spent as a medical doctor on the Navajo reservation in New Mexico. Also, from the time I was a small child, I felt a strong pull toward the natural world. So learning more about the people who lived on the land before my ancestors arrived here has always felt important to me. Given all this background it’s no wonder that I enrolled in a Native American literature course in freshman year of college, kindling a lifelong interest in reading the works of Native American authors.

Gratitude to my Native American Lit teacher, Carter Revard

Sometimes, in our youth, we cross paths with someone extraordinary. Here is a photo of my Native American literature teacher Carter Revard. He was a teacher whose influence still resonates in my life. I remember him from my freshman year Native American Literature course at Washington University in St. Louis, Missouri. Professor Revard’s Native American Lit course was my first elective. At the time, I had no idea of his personal connection to the Osage Nation in Oklahoma, or that Professor Revard was a Rhodes Scholar and published poet. Almost immediately, though, I was aware of being in the presence of a deep thinker. Professor Revard made the course a living experience of literature as story, imparting to me and my classmates a glimpse of how a story can span time, connecting the past to the present moment.

What does the Hebrew Bible say? A question that still resonates

Although I was only nineteen in 1976, I remember being startled when Professor Revard asked us about our own religious or spiritual heritage. Because I was raised in the Jewish diaspora by parents who felt that organized religion was problematic, this question really caught me off guard. Although I had been through bas mitzvah, I knew very little about the Hebrew Bible and the origin stories of my people. My teacher’s question made me think about how dislocated I was in time and space from my ancestors. Thinking back, I believe that was an important question. I and my fellow students were encountering the belief systems of other cultures and needed to think about our own context. Even now, at the age of sixty seven, I find this to be a rich and deep question to explore. What stories did my ancestors rely upon for wisdom and guidance?

More about Professor Revard’s Native American Lit. course

In addition to early MesoAmerican myths such as Quetzalcōātl, our readings in Professor Revard’s Native American Lit course included contemporary literary works by authors James Welch, Leslie Silko, N. Scott Momaday, Dee Brown, and others. But the most significant and memorable experience I had during that spring semester was not the books I read on campus. It was a trip I took on spring break, accompanying Professor Revard to his family home on the Osage reservation in Pawhuska, Oklahoma. Traveling with me was my good friend from campus who was also curious enough to come along on this adventure. As we journeyed from St. Louis, Missouri to Oklahoma, my friend and I sat in the backseat of Professor Revard’s car as he regaled us with stories, songs, and his own poetry.

More stories: Driving in Oklahoma and a tribal dinner

Here is a link to a poem Professor Revard shared with us on that trip called Driving in Oklahoma. In my recollection, he recited this poem from memory. The trip to Pawhuska lasted just a few days but there are moments I will always remember, and that car ride was one of them. Professor Revard was a bit of a celebrity in the Osage community. He was a hometown boy who never forgot his roots. I recall he was building a library for the community center and had brought a trunk-load full of books to contribute. Another memory was when we attended a traditional tribal dinner in Carter Revard’s honor. I can’t recall the exact taste of the plum soup –I do remember it being purple and sour–or the crispy fry bread that was served that evening, but I will always remember warm welcome we received in the tribal hall. This story of welcoming someone home and the way Professor Revard maintained a connection to his family and tribal community helped me see my teacher in a fuller light.

A reflection: What does it mean to be an American today?

As some of us with ancestral roots abroad shift from a sense of entitlement, or “white privilege” to thinking about repairing our relationships to the Indigenous peoples and to the land itself, I find that stories can help us put this moment into a broader perspective. While at the library recently, I picked up a copy of the novel Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko. I found Ceremony to be a difficult read at times, but deeply affecting. Here is a short AI summary of the novel: Leslie Marmon Silko’s Ceremony follows Tayo, a mixed-heritage Laguna Pueblo veteran, who returns from World War II battling the psychological trauma of the war and a spiritual disconnection from his community and land. Guided by medicine men and the oral traditions woven into the novel’s narrative, Tayo undertakes a symbolic ceremony to heal his “battle fatigue” (PTSD) and end the persistent drought plaguing his people. His journey emphasizes the interconnectedness of the individual, the community, and the natural world, culminating in the completion of a modern ceremony that restores balance and connection. After finishing Ceremony, I found an old copy of Silko’s Garden in the Dunes on my bookshelf. Later, while I was reading more about the author online, I recalled that my Native American lit class had read a short story called The Man to Send Rain Clouds. This story hit me just as powerfully now as then.

The Circularity of Time

Here is an excerpt from an interview I found online with Leslie Marmon Silko where she talks about the circularity of time.

During an interview in Germany in 1995, Silko shared the significance of her writings as a continuation of an existing oral tradition within the Laguna people. She specified that her works are not re-interpretations of old legends, but carry the same important messages as when they were told hundreds of years ago. Silko explains that the Laguna view on the passage of time is responsible for this condition, stating, “The Pueblo people and the indigenous people of the Americas see time as round, not as a long linear string. If time is round, if time is an ocean, then something that happened 500 years ago may be quite immediate and real, whereas something inconsequential that happened an hour ago could be far away.” Wikipedia

Hearing Silko talk about the Laguna people and their sense of time as circular makes me feel that sharing these memories and reflections is worthwhile. Of course, each of us is a collection of memories, experiences, and relationships that build our identity, and we can bring to the foreground what matters most to us.

Indigenous People’s Day 2025

I don’t know how Carter Revard felt when Columbus Day was renamed Indigenous People’s Day in 2021. He passed away the following year. But I do know that, as a poet, he chose his words carefully. So, in that spirit, and honoring the circularity of time, I send warm appreciation to my teacher Carter Revard who opened the door to important questions about identity and belonging.

In Conclusion: What stories nourish you and give you strength?

I’m wondering stories are salient for you at this tender moment in time? Might it be David and Goliath from the Old Testament about the small and brave defeating the big and powerful? What stories do you read and revisit to find strength and resilience? And finally, my dear readers, how can the arts shore us up? May we each find ways to open our minds and hearts to a more kind and compassionate relationship to our neighbors, our fellow travelers, and to the land itself.

With love,

Robin