Son Who Returns

by Gary Robinson

After she left, I told Adrian something that I hadn’t said when we were making up silly New Year’s resolutions.

  “I do have a serious resolution,” I said.

  “Oh yeah, what is it?” he asked.

  “My resolution is to dance at the Gathering of Nations Powwow in Albuquerque like Grandpa did,” I said boldly.

  “I like that resolution,” Adrian replied. “That’s a good one.”

  “But that’s not all of the resolution,” I added.

  “Yeah? What’s the rest?”

  “I will beat Charley in the teen Men’s Traditional competition at least once this year.”

  “What did I tell you about trying to beat other dancers?” Adrian reminded.

  “I know what you said, but this is different,” I answered defensively. “This is about Chumash pride. He claimed we weren’t real Indians and had no place in the powwow circle.”

  “Yeah, I know he really goes too far,” Adrian agreed.

  “I don’t want to beat him just to beat him,” I continued. “I want him to know that being Indian is not about the color of your skin or how much is in your blood. It’s about what’s in your heart.”

  “Okay,” Adrian said. “You know you really do surprise me sometimes.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Some things you say sound just like Grandpa,” Adrian said. “Just like him. I think that old man speaks through you sometimes.”

  I just blinked. I could see he’d made his mind up about something. He turned the powwow music up and started to move with the beat. I stepped back to give him room.

  “All right, Grandpa,” he said to me. “Tomorrow we start working to make your resolution a reality. We will work night and day until we’re sure you can beat Charley, to put him in his place and teach him that we are real Indians too.”

  With that, Adrian closed his eyes and concentrated on his movements. I could tell he was going deeply into himself. I had seen him do it before. He’d go deep inside and find someplace where extra power was stored. Then he’d come back to the surface with more energy than before. More determination.

  I left him alone and went to my room. What an amazing New Year’s Day it had been.

  Chapter 12

  The Final Push

  My final push toward powwow glory began the very next day. Adrian pulled out all the videotapes he’d shot of me and Charley. Then he pulled out the videotape of Grandpa dancing at the Gathering of Nations. We would watch these together, and he’d give me his evaluations of what was good and what wasn’t.

  He put Grandpa’s tape on, and we watched. The first shot showed the entire dance floor area, which was actually a basketball court. The hoops at either end of the court had been removed. That gave you a clear view of the entire arena.

  What struck me immediately was how many dancers there were. It looked like more than twenty in each category. That made it kind of cramped, once you added the judges, who were standing nearby.

  “That’s more dancers than I’ve ever seen at one time,” I said.

  “It’s always like that at the Gathering,” Adrian replied.

  The announcer gave the signal and the song began. The camera zoomed in on Grandpa and stayed on him. His movements were perfect. His steps were strong. I noticed that he proudly carried the coup stick Adrian had showed me.

  There were two songs for each competition at the Gathering. Adrian said that was because there were so many dancers. The judges needed more time to be able to score each one.

  Next we watched the tapes of me dancing. I was such an amateur that it was kind of embarrassing.

  “Notice that with each competition, you get better and better,” Adrian pointed out.

  It was true. By the time we got to the last tape, I had become a lot better dancer. Then he put on the tape of Charley.

  I could see right away that his moves were a lot like Grandpa’s. I wondered why that was so.

  “Grandpa was a Crow,” Adrian explained. “Charley is a Lakota. Both are Northern Plains tribes that have been involved in powwow-style dancing for generations.”

  “Charley thinks we’re only Chumash, which was not a tribe that originally practiced powwow-style dancing,” I observed.

  “So when you’re dancing, you have to let your Crow side shine,” Adrian advised. Then he moved closer to me and spoke softly.

  “You have to call on Grandpa’s spirit to help you,” he said seriously. “Our ancestors are available to help us.”

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll call on Grandpa.” And we spoke of that no more.

  That afternoon my workouts and practice sessions began. I now had a better idea of what was needed to become a champion dancer. I threw myself into it as if I were a boxer preparing for the next fight or a runner getting ready for my next Olympic challenge.

  Adrian also had me lifting weights and sprinting around the high school track to build up my muscle strength. He said this would help me make power moves during honor beats and do the dives during Duck and Dive songs.

  I had my first opportunity to try out my new skills early in March at the California Paiute Powwow. We pulled the RV into the campgrounds at about sunset that Friday. As I finished registering, who should show up in the line but Charley. Right on time.

  “So you’re back for more punishment, I see,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d last more than one powwow season.”

  “Sorry to disappoint,” I replied. “I’m in it for the long haul. You see, my Grandpa was an all-star Crow dancer, from a long line of Crow dancers. And I have that blood in me.”

  I was surprised that he didn’t have an immediate comeback. I walked away before he could think of some put-down. I think he was really surprised by what I said.

  I came in third at that powwow. My highest place ever. I even won some cash, which I shared with Nana and Adrian.

  Charley, of course, came in first place. But that didn’t matter. I had done my best, and that was better than I’d ever done. So I was happy.

  There were two more powwows before the Gathering, and I managed to place second or third in those. Charley had less and less to say as time went by. Even though I still hadn’t beaten him, he felt me breathing down his neck.

  The Gathering of Nations Powwow was usually held the last weekend of April. I wish there had been more powwows for me to compete in this season before that one. I needed the practice. But, as they say, it is what it is.

  When it was time to head for Albuquerque, we didn’t take the RV. We flew and then rented a car at the airport. And stayed in a hotel. It felt like first class all the way.

  Our hotel wasn’t too far from the University of New Mexico’s basketball arena, where the powwow had been held for more than thirty years. The arena was called “the Pit” because the court was actually located lower than ground level.

  From the street level you had to go down a steep set of steps to reach the floor. The court was surrounded on all sides by a steep set of seats, and those seats would be filled with people during every session of every dance competition. All the best dancers showed up for this one. It was like the Indianapolis 500 of the powwow world.

  I got dressed at our hotel and was ready to head for the Pit when Nana stopped me at the door.

  “Adrian and I have something to give you,” she said. “We think it’ll help you when you dance.”

  Adrian had kept one of his hands behind his back, and now he revealed what he’d been holding. It was Grandpa’s coup stick.

  “We want you to use this for all your competitions here in Albuquerque,” Adrian said. “It will give you extra strength and bring you good luck.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I took the stick from Adrian and turned it over and over in my hands.

  “Wow!” was all that popped out of my mouth. My usual reaction to something spectacular.

  “Remember Grandpa and how he danced,” Nana advised. “No matter how you do in the competition, your dancing will be perfect.”
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  I hugged Nana and Adrian real hard.

  “Thanks, guys,” I said, holding back a tear.

  “Apicho,” Nana said. “That means ‘good luck’ in Samala.”

  “Axay atiswin iwis pi’,” Adrian said with pride. “That means ‘may spirit helpers be with you’ in Samala.”

  “Pretty good, Adrian,” I said with a smile. “Thanks.”

  “Buena suerte,” Pablo said in Spanish with great flourish.

  “Good luck,” I translated and laughed. “Muchas gracias.”

  He gave me a hug too.

  Just then a knock came at our hotel door.

  “I have one more surprise for you,” Nana said as she opened the door.

  There stood my dad and Eleanor, with big smiles on their faces.

  “Dad!” I screamed and ran to hug him.

  “Hi, Eleanor,” I said as Dad and I continued our hug.

  “Hey there, Mark,” she replied. “Good to see you. Your dad has been missing you.”

  “What a great surprise, on top of everything else,” I said excitedly. “How long have you been planning this?”

  “Nana called us in early January and told us about your resolution,” Dad said. “That’s when we decided to come. And Ellie made our airline and hotel arrangements the very next day.”

  “I’m glad both of you are here, Ellie,” I said. “Thanks.”

  I shyly gave Ellie a hug.

  Then we all headed for the Pit in the SUV that Dad had rented.

  We arrived at the arena fifteen minutes later. What a mob. We waded through the thousands of people who’d come to see the dances and browse the vendor booths.

  The Gathering of Nations Grand Entry was the largest I’d ever seen. And certainly the grandest. Hundreds of dancers slowly paraded into the arena, forming a huge, tight spiral. As the first set of singers finished their song, another drum group began a second song. And still the dancers moved around the floor until, at last, all of us were in the arena. It was overwhelming!

  I’m glad I had watched Grandpa’s dance tape, so it wasn’t a shock to see two dozen dancers take the court when the announcer called for the teen Men’s Traditional competition. And of course, Charley was among them.

  It didn’t matter. I felt confident in myself. I gestured toward him and said, “Good luck,” loud enough for him to hear me. He gave me a little salute and surprisingly said, “Same to you.”

  I then scanned the crowd to find my family, and located them in about the middle of the seats near the dancers’ entrance. I gave them a quick wave and smile, then turned my attention back to the floor.

  I quickly closed my eyes and pictured Grandpa in my mind. “Be with me, Grandpa,” I whispered and inhaled a deep breath.

  Now everything was as it should be.

  The announcer gave the signal and the singers began their first competition song. It was a Sneak-up, and I was glad. Grandpa had given his best performance here in the Pit during a Sneak-up.

  As the drummers began the drumroll, I kneeled on the floor in about the same place Grandpa had all those years ago. I searched the floor and my surroundings as if I were looking for tracks and signs of an enemy. I became the warrior. Staying in a squatted position, I moved a few feet away and continued my search. I was completely focused and imitated Grandpa’s movements as they played in my mind.

  When the regular drumbeats began I stood up, thrust out my chest, and presented myself as a proud Crow warrior on the plains. The space I could move around in was limited because of nearby dancers, but I completely owned my ground.

  When the song ended, I stopped exactly on the very last beat and froze in place. The huge audience erupted in the loudest applause I’d ever heard. I knew they were yelling and clapping for the whole field of dancers, but I felt proud to be among them.

  I scanned quickly over to find my family and saw that they were all standing and applauding very enthusiastically. I smiled a proud smile and then returned my attention to the arena.

  Some of the dancers stood in place as we waited for the judges to make their first round of calculations. Others moved around a little to keep their muscles loose. When the judges signaled the announcer they were ready, the second song began.

  This time the singers gave us a Crow Hop. I was ready with Grandpa’s coup stick, so when the honor beats came, I lifted it up to catch the spirit of the drum. It felt amazing! It seemed like the coup stick was actually capturing extra energy from the drum.

  That boost of power brought more spring to my step, more strength to my legs. Suddenly I let out a war cry that I didn’t even know I had in me. I surprised myself with it. At that moment it didn’t matter who else was on the floor or how many people were in the arena. I was alone on the grassy plains, feeling my Indian identity, living in my Native pride.

  My mind came back to the arena just as the song was coming to an end. I planted my foot firmly on the floor as the drummers hit their final beat. Boom!

  Again the audience gave us a roaring round of applause. Again we dancers waited quietly for the judges to make their scores. When they signaled they were done, the announcer asked the audience to give us, and the drummers, one more round of applause.

  I left the floor feeling very satisfied and complete. It was as if I had danced the perfect dance, the warrior’s dance, and that was more important than winning.

  My family and I celebrated being together with a big dinner at a nearby late-night restaurant. I told them that I didn’t even care who won first, second, or third place this time, because my wish had come true.

  I had attended one of the largest gatherings of Native people in the country. And I had danced the Men’s Traditional style like my grandfather before me. I had achieved my personal best performance, and I had experienced what it might have felt like for my Native ancestors to live in their rightful place in the natural world.

  Would I be among the first-, second-, or third-place winners at this powwow? I didn’t know. Would I have beaten Charley when this powwow was over? I didn’t care. All that mattered was that I had found my true identity in this life. And I had made strong connections to both of my tribal cultures. That was a lot to achieve.

  And that was the source of my Native pride.

  Chapter 13

  Adrian’s Last Words

  I was happy to leave my story at the high point where I’d discovered who I was as a Native person. I no longer had anything to prove to myself or others.

  But Adrian, ever the older and wiser brother, thought you’d want to know how things turned out at the Gathering of Nations.

  I had two more competition rounds to complete during that last weekend in April.

  Each time I danced, I ignored the people around me. I immersed myself in the music and the power of the song. Each time I felt my own heartbeat synchronize with the beat of the drum. It was as if the drum was beating from inside of me instead of it being something outside of me I heard with my ears.

  Later, Adrian said he envied me. In all his years of powwow dancing, he’d never really experienced anything like that. Sure, he said, he’d come in first, second, or third plenty of times. But he’d never been transported out of this world like I had.

  So when it was time to announce the winners, the announcer said, “In the teen Men’s Traditional category, first place goes to Mark Centeno of the Crow and Chumash Nations.”

  Eleanor, Dad, Nana, Pablo, and Adrian were beyond excited. They clapped and cheered for me, but I was still in another world. What the announcer had said didn’t sink in.

  “What did he say?” I asked.

  “You won first place!” Adrian shouted to be heard over the noise of the crowd.

  “I did?” I was dumbfounded.

  “Go up and get your prize,” Adrian said.

  I still didn’t seem to grasp what was happening. Adrian walked with me to the front of the arena to help me pick up my prize.

  The emcee also announced who had won second and third place i
n my category. Adrian said Charley’s name wasn’t mentioned. I didn’t even notice.

  But I did begin to realize that I’d achieved more than I’d ever hoped for. Gradually, I allowed the feeling of that success to sink in.

  “This has been quite a trip,” I said finally as we left the arena together. “Thanks to you guys. All of you.”

  As we crossed the parking lot and headed toward the SUV, we heard a voice from behind us.

  “Mark, wait up a minute,” a young man’s voice called.

  We turned to see Charley standing with a Native man who somehow looked familiar. I realized that it was Charley’s actor father. I’d seen him in a couple of movies in past years.

  Charley and his dad approached.

  “Charley has something to say to you,” his father said to me.

  I looked at Charley and waited.

  “Go on,” his father said.

  “I . . . ,” Charley muttered. “I’m sorry for the things I said to you,” he finally blurted out. “I was being conceited and boastful, which is not in keeping with the traditions of my people or those of us within the powwow family.”

  He reached out his hand. I reached out mine. We shook.

  “What else?” his father prompted.

  “You’re a real Indian too,” he admitted, still holding on to my hand. “I’m half white and half Indian. So I’m not any more of a real Indian than you are. I’m sorry for saying that.”

  He dropped his hand from mine and looked down at the ground. Everyone was silent for a moment.

  “That’s all right,” I said after a pause. “We all make mistakes.”

  Charley brightened and looked up.

  “You were awesome tonight,” he told me with excitement. “It was like you barely touched the ground. What was that?”

  “I stopped thinking,” I said. “I allowed myself only to feel. In my mind I saw my Crow grandfather as he had danced, and his steps became my steps.”

  Later, Adrian said they all just stared at me. This was deep stuff for a fifteen-year-old, he said.

  “The more I know about my ancestors, the more I know about myself,” I said. “Isn’t that right, Nana?”