Proud People

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I’ve worked with a number of Native Americans as there are a number of men of that particular heritage in the ironworker field.

One of my favorite people of all-time was my buddy Kimball. He taught me so much about life because he caught me between the ages of 25-35 and he tried to get me to aim my arrows instead of just firing them all over the place.

Kimball died way too young, but I think of him a lot, and I know that hundreds of his buddies do too. I saw one such buddy the other day. Another Native American ironworker.

“Cliffy!” He called out.

I was walking with a few management guys and one laughed and said:

“That Indian Dude is calling your name.”

I headed over and we exchanged two hand slaps and a hug.

“How you doing?” He asked.

“I’m good,” I said. “Are you tying off when you get off the ground?”

“You know I’m not,” he said, with a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, only the weak fall,” I teased.

“Thinning the herd!”

I hoped he was joking, but I wasn’t sure.

Hardworking dude.

We swapped a bunch of office gossip, and after a few more hand slaps and some promises to stay in touch, I walked away, and back to the supervision guys in the white hats.

“You spend time on the reservation?” One of the guys said.

“He’s a great guy,” I said. “I used to stop for beers with him back in the day.”

“Fire water,” the other guy said, and they both laughed.

I walked away.

And I thought of Kimball again yesterday when The Bloviating Orange Mess made a Pocahontas joke in front of a gathering of Native Americans who were supposed to be honored yesterday.

Kimball would’ve been pissed!

So, I was pissed.

And then I stopped reading about it.

I walked away from the guys on the site who were being prejudiced idiots...

...sucks when you have to turn off the news for the same reason.

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