A Native Elder Told Me Poem by Denis Mair

A Native Elder Told Me

Rating: 5.0


A friend comes to me out of the world
I have to do what I can to deserve that
My brother-friend and I learned to fish together
He could fix engines; I liked to wrestle with tackle
We kept our fishing licenses all our lives
Not like so many Indians that sold theirs off
After every fishing season, we gave money to relatives
We gave them land and cars; we gave away everything;
When a season was good, I knew how many relatives I had
We were too lucky, it wouldn't be right to keep so much.
My wife and I bought a café, she kept it running for twenty years
That was a place to have fun in our town, but I had to move on
I was afraid it would make an alcoholic of me
I belong to the end of an era, grew up on the native side of town
My father washed up in Cordova
He wasn't really related to the families around here
But I got in with my brother-friend's family
There were piles of money to be made through the Native Corporation
But I wasn't interested in being any kind of executive
And there was a lot of division in our community
Some people drew a circle and thought they could keep us out
We just drew a bigger circle and counted them in
They didn't notice at first, but slowly they realized
Hey, being in this big circle feels pretty good!
Maybe they thought it was their idea, we didn't mind
Some people were too clever, always looking out for themselves
We pretended it was a clown game, to draw the circle bigger for us all
It was just a joke among ourselves, we never laughed for spite
Maybe there was a person who never got the idea, he went too far
He always drew the circle way too small, kept tools for himself
Burned wood from the shared clamming cabins, would never replace it
He did bad things- -no need to talk about exactly what he did
A few of us put on long stern faces, like Indian policemen
We'd go and warn him: Hey, we know what you've been doing
You already got two chances; if it happens a third time,
There is no place for you here…And if we caught him at it again
There's no need to talk about what happened
But that person who did those things- -he is probably crying forever
If there was any man who made a success of himself
It was because he put a woman in the highest place in life
Me and my brother-friend had tremendous luck fishing
I used to take my boat to the Bering Sea for herring
That was the backbone of our fishery
Too bad the herring stocks have collapsed
I bought a plane and paid a man just to spot fish for us
I got all the new contraptions, learned to use sonar
I used to wait for early fishing runs at the river mouths
You'd be surprised how three hours of sleep is enough to go on
I got that habit when I was a kid digging clams
We would stay out early in the season, get small catches
It was only a little money, but night after night mounted up
When the big runs of fish came in, we were in shape to go
We would be out months at a time. Out in the sun and water
Hopping among the islands, Lord thank you for such a life!
When I think of so many beautiful places I could smile forever
It was our fun to visit small villages, they were hardly on the map
They loved to have visitors; we rested up and learned the people's lives
I had a box of treats under the table in my boat
Village kids would come and sit around the table
They had heard about the treats, but they wouldn't ask for them
I would hold out a handful, each of them would only take one
I would say, don't you have sisters at home? Don't you have mothers?
Now the village people still call me on marine radio sometimes:
Where was you, Captain Ron, we missed you?
You used to come through here every year around this time

Tuesday, March 28, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: fishing,native american
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
During a visit to Anchorage, I heard these stories from my son-in-law's relative.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kesav Venkat Easwaran 04 November 2023

Beautiful re-telling. It is captivating

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Jette Blackstone 01 November 2017

These are beautiful stories Denis! I love the idea of drawing the circles bigger and bigger and not caring who draws the lines...as long as everyone is within them. I have been to Anchorage and met some of the village teens and elders. Very nice. Thanks for sharing.

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