We were driving around Macomb, looking at my alma mater. Jack mentioned that he got an ok grade on his math test. The Indian kid in his class did worse. I expressed my surprise at this fact, because I would have expected Indian/Asian kids to do much better than my run-of-mill American kid. The wife and kids were aghast at my statement that I thought the Indian kid should have straight A’s. I explained that I wasn’t being racist or stereotyping or any of that. It’s just a matter of economics. You see, our country is surrounded by two humungous oceans. If an Indian wants to come here to work and live, they need to either have the money or brains to do it. It’s not like they can just hop a train and be here in a couple of hours.

So if an Indian has the wherewithal to come here (not to mention the desire to escape whatever prior living conditions they had) then they’re going to make damn sure that their kids are getting the best education and best grades available. I would say that you don’t get to be a lazy American until you’re at least 3 generations in, lol.

We kept driving until we reached a road called Wigwam Hollow. I said “There. Now that’s a street named after Indians.” Again my family was shocked at this statement. I said to them basically that Native Americans are still named Indians to me. They always have been and always will be. Some day I will be dead and everyone who thinks the way I do will be dead as well. Then they will only be known as Native Americans.

The same school district that teaches my kids about Natives is the same exact one that taught me about Indians. I remember having to go in front of my preschool class and sing “Ten Little Indians.” I am a big baseball fan and most of my youth was collecting baseball cards, which included the Cleveland Indians. I watched the movie “Major League” a couple of times, which was about the Indians.

I told my family that if god came down and said “Tim, I will let you live an extra ten years if you call them Native Americans instead of Indians,” then I would be all about calling them Natives. But so far that hasn’t happened. I get to carry my beliefs to the grave. I do reserve the right to ingest new information and change my mind about all subjects but I don’t think I will change on this particular topic.

I told my kids that they have to call them Natives. I’m grandfathered in to the whole Indian thing but my kids aren’t. Jack thinks he can call the Cleveland ball team the Indians but I correct him and say he has to use the Guardians. He hasn’t been a baseball fan long enough to have the privilege of calling them Indians.

As I get older I don’t like the idea of my youth being gaslit away. You’re probably thinking “Wow Tim, way to make it all about you. The Natives are the ones who have been suffering all this time. You should listen to what they want.” This is a good point. I would never be so callous to call a Native person an Indian to their face. I don’t want to be rude. I think I’m more pissed at the idea of white people telling me what I should and shouldn’t say. Like, it’s not even about Indians/Natives themselves at this point.

Also I explained to my family that this whole Indian belief of mine is personal. I’m not going out in public advocating for a return to the name “Indian”. I don’t care. I know times and beliefs change, and no one can stop it. But this Indian thing is a souvenir from my past. It’s my own little remaining fight against The Man.

Growing up I remember my dad throwing around the N-word casually. I didn’t hate him for it. It was just part of his vocabulary growing up. Also it’s not like he said that word in anger. That would be different. Speaking of Dad, he died 7 years ago today. I’ll have to write a whole separate post about him.