My cousin, Margo Hill, published this remembrance of Expo 1974 in the Spokesman-Review today.
She mentions the vital role that my maternal grandmother, Etta Adams, played in the Indian exhibit at Expo as well as the role of my mother, Lillian.
Here is Etta Adams, also known as Big Mom.
Margo also mentions the role of my father, Sherman, Sr., at Expo 74. My father stopped dancing in early adulthood but he sometimes lent his powwow regalia to family members so they could dance.
My father’s bustle hangs on the wall of my home office. I also have his regalia.
Dear Father, In five years, I'll be the same age as you when you died. By choice and circumstance, you often wrecked your life so it wasn't a surprise that you died so young. I've mostly made better choices so I'll probably live for two or three decades more. I'm now the keeper of your beads and bustle—your powwow regalia. I've never danced but, year after year, the drums grow louder and louder. I might become one of those elderly Indian dancers—a tall brown man with a bad back and aching knees and feet. I might braid my hair into gray waterways. Maybe I'll dance slow circles in honor of you. If so, my dear father, then I'll be so old that I'll be dancing only a step or two behind your ghost.
“I might braid my hair into gray
waterways.” An especially beautiful phrase.
You’ve been dancing on the page the whole way.