Along the third base foul line, the boys embrace in a one-arm hug for a post-game pic. One wears a toothy grin, full of satisfaction at having pulled off a photo caper: shifting just as the pic is taken to squeeze the shorter boy to his shoulder. The squashed boy suffers the prank with a…
We wake early on these humid August mornings, our sweaty arms and legs embraced by damp sheets, a hot yellow sun already intruding through the slats in the closed blinds. Our mothers have to convince us to eat the breakfasts they’ve made for us, a cup of coffee that is more milk than coffee, some…
“White-Painted Woman let Lightning drop Rain in her vagina. After a while Child-of-Water was born.” Four dikohe, or Horse Holders, seated at the cardinal directions around a mesquite fire, snigger. No doubt old Eddie chuckled too when he learned about our primary cultural hero. This trip, which we run every year to initiate our boys…