It’s What is on the Inside that Counts….
I
remember being elementary-school aged and going to my first birthday party with
schoolmates. I know I should be able to
tell you which grade I was in, but I can’t… For most of us who went to St. Ann
Catholic School in sunny Naples, it is understood that not only did we attend a
1st thru 8th grade school, but moving around from school
to school wasn’t a common practice, so most of the faces I saw on my first day
of school in first grade, I also saw on my last day of 8th grade and
again on our last day of high school in 1985.
Anyway,
I know that I must have been in about 4th or 5th grade
and we went to the movies. I was so excited to go to my first “school-friend”
party. I know this seems to be a little
“old” to go to my first party, but it wasn’t because I was an introverted kid,
in fact, although I may have been a little shy with kids my own age at school,
I was already a junior entrepreneur and had my own business going to help pay
for private school tuition due every month. My business was making beaded jewelry
to sell at art shows, pow-wows and festivals on the weekends. Our family
sold fry bread, arts and crafts and my cousins and I danced almost every
weekend of our lives.
Back
to my story – I was so excited to go to this birthday party and the movies that
I stayed up late making my friend a necklace and ring set that I just knew she
would love because I used her favorite colors.
I remember that this girl wasn’t my “best-friend” but I remember
listening to her talk about her room and all of her favorite things… I have always listened to people and have
always remembered the smallest of details about what they like… favorite
colors, music, food… I always knew that I was different, after all my brother
and I were the only Seminoles. However, I thought that those differences made
me cool… Being different and not the same as everyone else was cool as hell…
That doesn’t mean that I didn’t wonder what it would be like to be able to really
be part of the crowd, so I would listen to their stories of their weekends and
think how cool that would be…
So…
I wrap my present for my friend and pick out my best outfit. After all, my
grandma just made me a new patchwork skirt – all I ever really wore,
were my skirts that my grandma or aunts made – and I had gone to our new K-Mart
and bought new knee-hi socks, a new shirt, and birthday card for my school
friend. I was waiting in the front room for my friend’s mom to pick me up so I
could go see what it was like to just be a kid… I was so excited.
As I
walked out to the driveway to get into their car, I looked back at my house, in
a part of town only a few of us lived in and had a twinge of fear. This was something I had not done before. I
had danced and spoke in front of hundreds of people and gone to celebrate other
tribal cultures throughout the country, but had never been to a school friend’s
birthday party. I remember precisely what it felt like at that moment and what
was going through my head… I remember thinking if it was going to feel like
this on the day I leave for college years from now. My close-knit world was
becoming a little bigger that day.
I
wasn’t prepared for what was about to become a defining moment in my life… As I
stepped into the van with my knee-hi clad legs and high heeled clogs that I had
bought from Buster Brown with my tip money, I was beaming with pride… When we
all gathered outside of the theatre to go into the party, all the moms gathered
to look at my grandma’s masterpiece, my new skirt. One of the moms looked at my socks and said,
“Oh Tina, I love your socks! Where did you get them?” I proudly responded, “I
bought them from our new K-Mart! My mommy and daddy took us there last night.”
She looked around and quickly responded, “Oh then I don’t think we’ll be
getting those.” Then she laughed hysterically…
I remember standing there, in my knee-hi socks, feeling puzzled… and
unsure of which emotion to feel… was she laughing at me?
To
be honest, my naiveté combined with and strong sense of pride, wouldn’t let me
get my feelings hurt, but it certainly would lead to me getting to the bottom
of things. I remember not being able to concentrate on the task at hand,
enjoying the party. I just wanted to go home and ask my mom what that mom could
possibly be laughing at. For those of you who have not meant my mom,
well… let’s just say she has a bit of a temper and when combined with a
maternal instinct to protect her young she could be considered rabid when one
of her own was in danger, hurt, or being bullied.
When
I went home I stood in our living room in front of the mirror-tiled wall my
mom, dad, brother and I had installed. I remember staring at my knee-his,
shoes, skirt and long braided pig tails, buck teeth and a chubby belly thinking
that maybe it wasn’t my socks… LOL! So when
my mom asked me how the party went, I immediately asked her, “Mom, Mrs. So and
So said that she wanted to know where I got my new socks but when I told her
K-Mart she started laughing. I asked, “Mom, what is wrong with K-Mart? Is there
something wrong with buying your socks from K-Mart? Do you think she can’t
afford it? Should I give {her daughter} a pair?” This
was one of those life defining moments.
I
never knew we were considered to be poor because regardless of which day of the
week, my parents and grandparents always provided food. In fact, in lean times, we would just
combine our resources with the rest of the family. We worked for everything we wore, ate, played
with, drove… I refused to let her ridicule make me feel like I was less of a person.
Who makes fun of a child anyway? Hrrrumph…..
I
have never looked at what a person drove, wore, ate or did with any emotion
other than admiration, curiosity, sympathy, or anger. Admiration for those who are proud, giving
people and do well for themselves and others. Curiosity when I want to hear
about a life or culture foreign from my own. Sympathy when there are those who
can’t seem to catch a break and look downward thinking there are others making
fun of them, or anger when they look downward knowing there are others making
fun of them.
None
of the above has anything to do with how much a person pays for something or
how much they have. A person can be of small character and have a big bank account
or can have small character and have a small bank account. The inverse can be
true as well. None of this has anything
to do with how much a person has or doesn’t have in material things. But it
does have something to do with how much a person has in terms of strength of
character.
To be fair, it is important that I share that more than thirty years down the road, that I have a much larger view of the same problem, because it
has become a stereotype to think that this misguided mom I encountered is the
problem with society. That it is those “Real Housewives” of Reality TV that are
the problem in this world. That it is
always those with money that make fun of those without. But I have personally witnessed the inverse
as well… I see many people who have nice
things in terms of cars, houses, clothes, etc… be ridiculed by those without…
and within Indian Country I witnessed strong Indian women criticized for
looking good and wearing nice clothes be accused of being less native. Again, I respond with a hand on my hip and a hand in the face... Hrrrumph... I'm proud of all my native people who fight the fight on behalf of those who can and on behalf of those who don't even give a crap.
I have a part 2 that I will write later…
just wanted to share this life defining moment and the reason why you
will never hear me envy or covet the belongings or life of someone else. By the way... during my 12 years of Catholic School I believe I heard of a commandment or two that talked about coveting as being sinful... just sayin'!
