Regrets

Everybody has regrets, it's a part of life. It's a part of growing up, of maturing. Everybody's done something they regret, lots of people regret somethings they didn't do.

I've been reading Tony Hillerman books because they are centered around the area where I grew up. I grew up in Flagstaff, AZ, high in the mountains at 7500 feet. Head north about 15 miles and you drop straight down into the Navajo Reservation. Hundreds upon hundreds of miles of nothingness. A population of .2 people per square mile, and 20 goats. Nothing for miles. Some might call it beautiful, some might call it wasteland. I think it's probably a bit of both.

Flagstaff was the nearest big city for the Navajos. Many of them were sent to live in the BIA Boarding Houses and attended Flagstaff High School. Some came just for shopping or for other needs. And I can't think of a single person I knew my age that treated the Navajos with respect. We called them Yahtahee. Trogs. Horrible, horrible names. Awful things to people who did not deserve such things. No, not to their face, but someone doesn't have to make fun of you to your face for you to know you're being teased. We made fun of the way they switched their singular and plural tenses. "I want one strawberry sundaes and 3 blizzard." We made fun of their commercials on the radio that went on and on in Navajo and then ended with Cake Chevrolet. We made fun of their Chevrolet trucks they always drove. We teased mercilessly. WHY???

Regrets.

So now I'm reading Hillerman, and I'm learning all about the Navajo way of life. How they believe in respect for nature and for others. How they never interrupt. How they always respect and care for their elders. How they can have $3.00 to their name but be happy and rich in life. How they respected and lived off the land. How everything had a purpose. Such a rich, ancient culture that I ignored. Such history and knowledge and tradition was right there at the tips of my fingertips, and I shamed it with my vain words and actions. Just learning about how the Navajos chose to live brings shame to my indulgent, shallow world. I interrupt. I barely recycle. I'd kill a bug and not think twice about it.

So...regrets. Everyone has them. I have mine, that's for damn sure, and shaming the Navajo culture that was so strongly part of my life is one of them. I want to go back to Flagstaff and just listen and observe. Not make fun of the drunk Indians. Not turn my head in disgust when Old Lady Tso comes into pay for her merchandise and smells of sheep. Regrets.