http://www.indiancountrytoday.com/opinion/97661964.html
By David Wilkins
Jul 7, 2010
My brother, George Whitewolf, a Monacan/Lakota, walked on June 7,
2010. He was 67. George had struggled with heart problems for several
years, and had recently had quadruple bypass surgery.
George was my dearest friend, and he was also my spiritual mentor. I
first met him in the summer of 1975 on Mohawk lands. We had both been
invited to Akwesasne by Jerry Gambill, then known as Rarihokwats, who
was the editor of Akwesasne Notes, the most outstanding Native news
journal of the day. George and I formed an immediate bond, and when
he departed for his home in Maryland he invited me to accompany him.
It was a mind and spirit-altering decision that changed the course of my life.
His homestead just outside Ellicott City was affectionately known as
"Whitewolf's Paradise" because visitors frequently discovered that
even a short stay there was enough to transport them to a spiritual
and emotional paradise after partaking in ceremonies and political
and cultural discussions with Natives from all over Turtle Island who
frequented his place.
At this time, George and his first wife, Gloria, also owned and
operated a small business in Ellicott City that featured fine
handmade buckskin clothing for which he became famous as well as
beadwork, bonework, silver work, etc. George, a plumber by trade, was
just getting his business operational and longed for the day when he
could focus solely on the production of high quality art and crafts.
George's home was also just a stone's throw from Washington, D.C.,
and many Natives from the Lakota, Haudenosaunee, Blackfeet, Cheyenne,
and countless other nations would stop at George's place for rest and
ceremonies as they prepped for their difficult diplomatic visits to
Congress and the BIA to discuss treaty rights, protest events like
the Longest Walk, and other politically incendiary topics. In the
1970s, George was also very active in the American Indian Movement
and his home was under frequent surveillance by the FBI.
George had been adopted by Larry Red Shirt's family of Pine Ridge,
and he and Larry formed a very close bond. I traveled with George on
numerous occasions to South Dakota for both ceremonies and political
gatherings and had the opportunity to meet and get to know Larry,
Sam, and their mother, who George simply called Ma Red Shirt. I also
had the honor to meet two of George's spiritual teachers especially
Dawson Has No Horses and Frank Fools Crow two well known Holy Men,
and others as well.
George's home was a cultural and spiritual magnet for Native people
and he conducted countless healing ceremonies and vision quests for
many individuals, all while maintaining a presence on the pow wow
scene, and continuing to make beautiful art.
By 1990, his birth nation, the Monacan, called him home and he
answered by relocating to lands of his ancestors the mountains of
Virginia. While George had felt a powerful tug to move to Pine Ridge
to be near his adopted family, ultimately it was the cultural and
spiritual needs of his own nation that won out.
Immediately, George set out to revive and expand a more organic
understanding and practical exercise of Monacan culture which
entailed two major dimensions: Reclaiming Bear Mountain, the most
sacred site of the Monacan people; and instilling in Monacan youth an
intense love and appreciation for indigenous knowledge, traditions and values.
Within a few years, George and his allies had made tremendous
progress on both fronts and today Bear Mountain is once again the
central site for Monacan cultural and political identity. Young
Monacans can be seen and heard exercising their cultural sovereignty
in various contexts, like the annual Monacan pow wow that George
established in 1992. In fact, it was the proceeds from the first
several powwows that raised the necessary money to purchase 100 acres
on Bear Mountain.
Beyond serving as the spiritual guide for traditional Monacan
culture, George was also drawn into his nation's political and
economic affairs. For the last several years, he served as the
assistant chief of his nation and continued to be a powerful advocate
for the young people, for the land, for his people's political
recognition, and for the continued expansion of indigenous values.
In some eerily similar respects, George was very much like my other
powerful mentor, Vine Deloria Jr. Both men were forces of nature, and
even though they never met, their personalities, their
interdisciplinary knowledge, their love of the land and her many
peoples, their insatiable appetites for good food, good friends, and
good stories, and their incessant quest for the truth were remarkably
comparable.
Vine, as I think upon it now, was my principal intellectual guide as
well as being a dear friend. George was my principal spiritual guide
and an equally close friend. Interestingly, I met both in that
life-altering summer of 1975.
As in the classic Vietnam movie, "Platoon," where Charlie Sheen's
character says that he was born of the starkly contrasting
personalities and behaviors of the two sergeants, I, too, was born of
the exquisite guidance, intense instruction, and unbridled support
that I received from these two Native giants. But in my case, I was
blessed even more because of the ever-deepening friendships that I
shared with both.
Native America has been profoundly enriched and strengthened by the
lives and actions of George Whitewolf and Vine Deloria Jr. I have
also been emphatically and indelibly influenced in so many respects.
But at this moment, in the immediate wake of George's passing, I
simply feel overwhelmingly deflated. Journey well, brother.
--
David E. Wilkins, Lumbee, is professor of American Indian studies,
political science, law and American studies at the University of Minnesota.
.
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