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| First Fry Bread by � KimMarie Pozar Gaye Text Sunday, may 27, 2002. Outside the sun is shining, the fog actually has burnt off. Carmie is sitting quietly in his recliner, reading the Sunday Herald, too quiet. I glance sideways at him waiting for his typical good nature and goofy jokes, none are forthcoming. I sigh. Today I had promised to meet my parents for lunch and knew it would end up being an all day event. Two hours to drive to meet them, a few short hours together and then two hours home. Sunny days here are so rare and we wouldn�t be able to enjoy the beauty. I stare at him till he looks up and then I jut out my bottom lip. He laughs with me and knows he is busted. We make the best of it and pile in the car and start heading inland. In a smidge over an hour we are at Casa de Fruta and running ahead of schedule. We walk thru the store selecting dried fruit and hefting artichokes. A mere 20 bucks gets us past the checker. As she bags our stash I ask, �I saw the Pow Wow sign, is it in the campground?� She points us in the right direction and I give Carmie my best puppy dog eyes. Carm and I have been together for almost 4 years and I have yet to talk him into attending a gathering. He is half Japanese and half Kentucky, city raised on the central coast of California. I�m not sure but I think he has some strange idea of what a pow wow really is. �Sure, why not?� he shrugs. Parking in the lot and walking the gravel road we hear the sound of drum beats coming thru the trees. The sun is shining, we are holding hands and I fit into a pair of jeans I hadn�t been able to squeeze into before. The day was turning out damn fine. I miss the mountains and the desert I came from, I miss the types of people I knew, I miss walking for miles without seeing anyone else, I miss the smells of pine and sage and smoke. I smile as we walk. As we reach the gate, the blessing is taking place. My eyes drink in the symbolism, the people, the feathers, the tshirts. My body absorbs the sun the grass, the beating of the drum. Carmie and I enter the gate and I try to keep my mouth shut, but it is difficult to do so. I want to share. I want him to understand why this is an important part of who I am. When he sees the booths, the food, the lawn chairs and the people enjoying the day, he automatically fits in. Usually when we are out in public, his 6�4�, 250 lb self goes into a vigilant mode. Here, at this gathering, he is relaxed, warm and funny. We only have about 45 minutes but it is long enough for us to make a leisurely stroll around the perimeter, to shop a few booths that have friendly people selling and for him to talk me into letting him buy me two pots for my birthday. I don�t fight the gifts. I used to think he was too good for me. I have let him convince me otherwise. As we walk back towards the gate, I thank the seller who sold us the pots and ask her to thank the artists for me. I tug Carmie gently towards one of the food booths and buy a piece of fry bread. He has never tried it before. We walk out the gate as more people file in, the dancing is just getting started. Plate of bread in one hand, while we hold hands, we make our way back to the parking lot. He looks at the green campground and comments that he would like to come back next year, and maybe camp. This mountain girl smiles, two firsts today, our first pow wow together and his first taste of fry bread, and the hint of another first, for him to camp out. �Today is my birthday, even though it isn�t for a couple of weeks� Monday, May 27, 2002 Carmie and I walk out the door, and before he takes my hand, he shows me the back of his, the faint ink of the stamp from the day before, �Pow wow� he grins. |
