A couple of days ago, I was having an arduous day at work.  I was in the back doing inventory, when I heard one of my fellow employee’s call me to the front.  I went to him and asked what the problem was, and he said, “Two more fuckin’ Mexican’s just came in – you help them”.

I work with a bunch of xenophobes.  I do not like the fact that a large percentage of Mexican’s do come into this country illegally, but I’m not going to hold it against them.  They are just trying to provide for their families.  It’s far easier to say that an entire group of people are bad, rather than to realise that there is good and bad in all of us.  No one, certainly no ethnicity, is pure or without sin.  Some of us are more educated than others but that certainly does not make us perfect.

Researching my own family history has taught me more about myself than anything else.  I became humbled, as I went through the records and realising what my ancestors had to overcome.  Most were either running away from oppression or starvation.  Still, others were ran off their land that they had resided on for a millennia.

All of this being said, I do not treat others like third class citizens because of where they were born.  So, I approached the man and woman discovering that they were not Mexican’s at all. 

“O si yo (hello)”  I said whilst smiling and approaching the couple.

The man adorning a tan leather jacket and denims, smiled, as he leaned in whispering to the lady wearing a black dress and an enormous smile.  She was short with jet black hair draping across her back and dark mystical eyes.  He was tall and hefty having similar long jet black hair and dark mystical eyes.

“How did you know?”  He asked whilst smiling and laughing.

“The Screech Owl pendant was a dead giveaway”, I answered, as I leaned in to shake their hands.

“You’re Cherokee?”  The man asked with earnest intrigue and disbelief.

“My grandfather was half Cherokee”, I replied.

“Well, you’d never know it with the freckles and light hair”, he said whilst laughing.

“You might say I’m a bit watered down…There’s more Irish in the bucket of paint than anything else”, I laughingly replied.

“No way, my great-grandfather was Irish”, he yelled whilst patting me on the back.

We continued talking about the Cherokee Nation and our grandfathers.  We also discussed our fiery tempers and which group of our ancestors we could blame for that.  It was good to reminisce about all things Cherokee and mother earth.  Native American’s are thrown to the wayside far too often.  I’m still waiting for a Native American President!

When I finished talking with them, I walked to the back to finish inventory.  The lad walked to the back, and asked, “What did the Mexican’s want?”.

“They were not Mexican’s, my brother, they are Cherokee, Native Americans.”

He smirked, and said, “Same difference”.

I jumped up from my kneeling position, looked him up and down, and walked away.  I felt like decking him right then and there, but that wouldn’t solve anything.  Nor would it be worth my time to explain it because you can’t educate those that don’t want to be educated.

I am very proud of my ancestry and am not ashamed of being from the Southern United States. 

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The ol’ turkey seems to bring out the worst and best in people.  All of it in one afternoon. 

There was enough muttering, whispering, yelling, arguing, and laughing going around yesterday to last a lifetime. 

I got up early yesterday and went to my grandmothers house to get everything in order.  I am the official chairman of orderliness.  I bring order to chaos.  I bring peace to the warring tribes of my family by reciting a few words that I usually come up with at the last moment.

“We are privileged to be gathered together in this place to give thanks to the fruitful bounty of our labour.  Also, to treasure our families and friends here today and those that are away yet so close to our hearts. 

And, let us never forget the ancestors that came before us.  Those that fought and died for our freedoms, and those that suffered because of their religious beliefs or nationality.

And finally, everyone in this family should recognise how special this day is, for most of you, being of European and Cherokee descent, can greatly understand both sides of the story and the importance of this day.

Now, dig in!”

While chowing down on turkey, dressing, gravy, candied yams, green bean casserole, potato salad (me Mum’s specialty) and cranberry sauce, I got into a wee bit of a spat with my cousin.  She weaved, wobbled, and pecked at me like a turkey, as I stood and smiled.  I don’t remember what it was about, so I don’t reckon it was too important.  Something about my sister, I presume.

In the middle of eating, I got called down to my sisters to repair a phone line.  To say I was irritated would be an understatement.  At every family event, I am badgered with technical questions.  They usually want to know what kind of TV to buy or what the best mobile on the market is at that time. 

I shouldn’t be insulted by such questions, but I am.  Mind you, I kindly answer their questions.  But, I know a heck of a lot more about a myriad of other subjects than they would every give me credit for.  It is an insult to my intelligence to think that information technology is the only thing buzzing around in my head. 

After repairing her phone line, I went back to the festivities and ate entirely too much.  When I got ready to leave, my little niece and her mother came over to say goodbye.  She said she wanted to be just like me.  Can you imagine such a thing?  I asked her why, and she said it was because I was really…wheelly smart and go places. 

A ten year old looking up to me?  Well, that makes it all worthwhile.

Everybody that had argued through the afternoon conciliated and the three dozen chocolate oatmeal cookies I made were gone!

Happy belated Thanksgiving my ‘merkan comrades.  

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