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Native American Culture, Sia Moizn, San Jose, CA (2026)

07/27/2023

A bird sitting on a tree is never afraid of the branch breaking, because its trust is not on the branch but on its own wings.
Native Red Cloud
Pine Ridge SD-Oglala Lakota CO

07/27/2023

Picture of Quanah Parker and two of his wives, Topay and Chonie.
Quanah Parker was the last Chief of the Commanches and never lost a battle to the white man. His tribe roamed over the area where Pampas stands. He was never captured by the Army, but decided to surrender and lead his tribe into the white man's culture, only when he saw that there was no alternative.
His was the last tribe in the Staked Plains to come into the reservation system.
Quanah, meaning "fragrant," was born about 1850, son of Comanche Chief Peta Nocona and Cynthia Ann Parker, a white girl taken captive during the 1836 raid on Parker's Fort, Texas. Cynthia Ann Parker was recaptured, along with her daughter, during an 1860 raid on the Pease River in northwest Texas. She had spent 24 years among the Comanche, however, and thus never readjusted to living with the whites again.
She died in Anderson County, Texas, in 1864 shortly after the death of her daughter, Prairie Flower. Ironically, Cynthia Ann's son would adjust remarkably well to living among the white men. But first he would lead a bloody war against them.
Quanah and the Quahada Comanche, of whom his father, Peta Nocona had been chief, refused to accept the provisions of the 1867 Treaty of Medicine Lodge, which confined the southern Plains Indians to a reservation, promising to clothe the Indians and turn them into farmers in imitation of the white settlers.
Knowing of past lies and deceptive treaties of the "White man", Quanah decided to remain on the warpath, raiding in Texas and Mexico and out maneuvering Army Colonel Ronald S. Mackenzie and others. He was almost killed during the attack on buffalo hunters at Adobe Walls in the Texas Panhandle in 1874. The U.S. Army was relentless in its Red River campaign of 1874-75. Quanah's allies, the Quahada were weary and starving.
Mackenzie sent Jacob J. Sturm, a physician and post interpreter, to solicit the Quahada's surrender. Sturm found Quanah, whom he called "a young man of much influence with his people," and pleaded his case. Quanah rode to a mesa, where he saw a wolf come toward him, howl and trot away to the northeast. Overhead, an eagle "glided lazily and then whipped his wings in the direction of Fort Sill," in the words of Jacob Sturm. This was a sign, Quanah thought, and on June 2, 1875, he and his band surrendered at Fort Sill in present-day Oklahoma.

07/27/2023

Keanu Reeves and Every Child Matters 🥰🥰
This is Matrix movie star Keanu Reeves. He was abandoned by his father at 3 years old and grew up with 3 different stepfathers. He is dyslexic. His dream of becoming a hockey player was shattered by a serious accident. His daughter died at birth. His wife died in a car accident. His best friend, River Phoenix, died of an overdose. His sister battled leukemia.
No bodyguards, no luxury houses. Keanu lives in an ordinary apartment and likes wandering around town and often seen riding a subway in NYC.
When he was filming the movie "The Lake House," he overheard the conversation of two costume assistants, one crying as he would lose his house if he did not pay $20,000 - On the same day, Keanu deposited the necessary amount in his bank account. In his career, he has donated large sums to hospitals including $75 million of his earnings from “The Matrix” to charities.
In 2010, on his birthday, Keanu walked into a bakery & bought a brioche with a single candle, ate it in front of the bakery, and offered coffee to people who stopped to talk to him.
In 1997 some paparazzi found him walking one morning in the company of a homeless man in Los Angeles, listening to him and sharing his life for a few hours.
In life, sometimes the ones most broken from inside are the ones most willing to help others.
This man could buy everything, and instead every day he gets up and chooses one thing that cannot be bought;
❤️I think you will be proud to wear this T-shirt👇 👇 https://www.nativeblood.shop/stores/every

07/27/2023

This is written by Chief Dan George,
In the course of my lifetime I have lived in two distinct cultures. I was born into a culture that lived in communal houses. My grandfather’s house was eighty feet long. It was called a smoke house, and it stood down by the beach along the inlet. All my grandfather’s sons and their families lived in this dwelling. Their sleeping apartments were separated by blankets made of bull rush weeds, but one open fire in the middle served the cooking needs of all. In houses like these, throughout the tribe, people learned to live with one another; learned to respect the rights of one another. And children shared the thoughts of the adult world and found themselves surrounded by aunts and uncles and cousins who loved them and did not threaten them. My father was born in such a house and learned from infancy how to love people and be at home with them.
And beyond this acceptance of one another there was a deep respect for everything in nature that surrounded them. My father loved the earth and all its creatures. The earth was his second mother. The earth and everything it contained was a gift from See-see-am…and the way to thank this great spirit was to use his gifts with respect.
I remember, as a little boy, fishing with him up Indian River and I can still see him as the sun rose above the mountain top in the early morning…I can see him standing by the water’s edge with his arms raised above his head while he softly moaned…”Thank you, thank you.” It left a deep impression on my young mind.
And I shall never forget his disappointment when once he caught me gaffing for fish “just for the fun of it.” “My son” he said, “The Great Spirit gave you those fish to be your brothers, to feed you when you are hungry. You must respect them. You must not kill them just for the fun of it.”
This then was the culture I was born into and for some years the only one I really knew or tasted. This is why I find it hard to accept many of the things I see around me.
I see people living in smoke houses hundreds of times bigger than the one I knew. But the people in one apartment do not even know the people in the next and care less about them.
It is also difficult for me to understand the deep hate that exists among people. It is hard to understand a culture that justifies the killing of millions in past wars, and it at this very moment preparing bombs to kill even greater numbers. It is hard for me to understand a culture that spends more on wars and weapons to kill, than it does on education and welfare to help and develop.
It is hard for me to understand a culture that not only hates and fights his brothers but even attacks nature and abuses her.
I see my white brothers going about blotting out nature from his cities. I see him strip the hills bare, leaving ugly wounds on the face of mountains. I see him tearing things from the bosom of mother earth as though she were a monster, who refused to share her treasures with him. I see him throw poison in the waters, indifferent to the life he kills there; and he chokes the air with deadly fumes.
My white brother does many things well for he is more clever than my people but I wonder if he has ever really learned to love at all. Perhaps he only loves the things that are outside and beyond him. And this is, of course, not love at all, for man must love all creation or he will love none of it. Man must love fully or he will become the lowest of the animals. It is the power to love that makes him the greatest of them all…for he alone of all animals is capable of love.
Love is something you and I must have. We must have it because our spirit feeds upon it. We must have it because without it we become weak and faint. Without love our self esteem weakens. Without it our courage fails. Without love we can no longer look out confidently at the world. Instead we turn inwardly and begin to feed upon our own personalities and little by little we destroy ourselves.
You and I need the strength and joy that comes from knowing that we are loved. With it we are creative. With it we march tirelessly. With it, and with it alone, we are able to sacrifice for others.
There have been times when we all wanted so desperately to feel a reassuring hand upon us…there have been lonely times when we so wanted a strong arm around us…I cannot tell you how deeply I miss my wife’s presence when I return from a trip. Her love was my greatest joy, my strength, my greatest blessing.
I am afraid my culture has little to offer yours. But my culture did prize friendship and companionship. It did not look on privacy as a thing to be clung to, for privacy builds walls and walls promote distrust. My culture lived in a big family community, and from infancy people learned to live with others.
My culture did not prize the hoarding of private possessions, in fact, to hoard was a shameful thing to do among my people. The Indian looked on all things in nature as belonging to him and he expected to share them with others and to take only what he needed.
Everyone likes to give as well as receive. No one wishes only to receive all the time. We have taken something from your culture…I wish you had taken something from our culture…for there were some beautiful and good things in it.
Soon it will be too late to know my culture, for integration is upon us and soon we will have no values but yours. Already many of our young people have forgotten the old ways. And many have been shamed of their Indian ways by scorn and ridicule. My culture is like a wounded deer that has crawled away into the forest to bleed and die alone.
The only thing that can truly help us is genuine love. You must truly love, be patient with us and share with us. And we must love you—with a genuine love that forgives and forgets…a love that gives the terrible sufferings your culture brought ours when it swept over us like a wave crashing along a beach…with a love that forgets and lifts up its head and sees in your eyes an answering love of trust and acceptance.
This is brotherhood…anything less is not worthy of the name.
I have spoken.

07/27/2023

Sac and Fox boys. 1898. Photo by F.A. Rinehart.
***
LOS ANGELES — Saginaw Grant, a prolific Native American character actor and hereditary chief of the Sac & Fox Nation of Oklahoma, has died. He was 85.
Grant died peacefully in his sleep of natural causes on Wednesday at a private care facility in Hollywood, California, said Lani Carmichael, Grant's publicist and longtime friend.
"He loved both Oklahoma and L.A.," Carmichael said. "He made his home here as an actor, but he never forgot his roots in Oklahoma. He remained a fan of the Sooner Nation."
Born July 20, 1936, in Pawnee, Oklahoma, Grant was a U.S. Marine Corps veteran.
He began acting in the late 1980s and played character roles in dozens of movies and television shows over the last three decades, including "The Lone Ranger," "The World's Fastest Indian" and "Breaking Bad," according to Grant's IMDB filmography.
Grant was active for years in the powwow circuit in California and traveled around the globe to speak to people about Native American culture, Carmichael said.
"His motto in life was always respect one another and don't talk about one another in a negative way," she said.
Grant was also active in the Native American veterans community and participated for years in the National Gathering of American Indian Veterans, said Joseph Podlasek, the event's organizer.
"He thought it was important for Native people to get recognized as veterans," Podlasek said. "He was kind and gentle, and very humble."
A memorial for Grant will be held in the Los Angeles area, but details haven't been finalized, Carmichael said.

07/26/2023

Oklahoma is home to 39 American Native tribes, many of which were forcibly removed to this area.
Photo of Kiowa tribal members, c. 1901 (19344.68.1, Virgil Robbins Collection, OHS)

07/26/2023

Tall Bull (1830 - July 11, 1869) (Hotóa'ôxháa'êstaestse) was a chief of the Cheyenne Dog Soldiers. Of Cheyenne and Lakota parentage, like some of the other Dog Soldiers by that time, he identified as Cheyenne.
He was shot and killed in the Battle of Summit Springs in Colorado by Major Frank North, leader of the Pawnee Scouts.
Tall Bull was a major Southern Cheyenne Chief, war chief and Dog Soldier leader. In 1864, under his leadership he had approximately 500 people following him in the eastern Colorado and western Kansas and Nebraska area. He participated in the 1864-65 Arapaho-Cheyenne War, the retaliation that followed the Sand Creek massacre, but gave up the fight after seeing the futility of winning the war. In 1868, he participated in the Beecher Island battle. During the battle he warned Roman Nose not to go into battle until he fixed his broken medicine and to do it quickly so that he could join the fight. During 1869, Tall Bull was shot dead, during an ambush by Maj Frank North at a ravine near White Butte.
At a peace council in 1867 he argued that the whites and the soldiers should stop making war upon the Cheyenne by invading the Cheyenne land and instigating further calamities. Furthermore, they should stop telling the Cheyenne that they should give up their land to have peace. Their Indian agent Edward Wynkoop tried bartering a peace with direct tones that were none too conciliatory. During one peace talk Tall Bull personally stopped the great Cheyenne warrior Roman Nose from killing Gen. Winfield Hancock.
Tall Bull was killed in the Battle of Summit Springs on 11 July 1869. Not even a year had passed after the death of his fellow Dog Soldier, the great Roman Nose, on September 17, 1868. Also dead was Chief Black Kettle. The war societies were devastated due to their loss of leadership. The Cheyenne never recovered and were no longer a threat on the southern Great Plains.

07/26/2023

We Indians know about silence. We are not afraid of it. In fact, for us, silence is more powerful than words. Our elders were trained in the ways of silence, and they handed over this knowledge to us. Observe, listen, and then act, they would tell us. That was the manner of living.
With you, it is just the opposite. You learn by talking. You reward the children that talk the most at school. In your parties, you all try to talk at the same time. In your work, you are always having meetings in which everybody interrupts everybody and all talk five, ten or a hundred times. And you call that ‘solving a problem’. When you are in a room and there is silence, you get nervous. You must fill the space with sounds. So you talk compulsorily, even before you know what you are going to say.
White people love to discuss. They don’t even allow the other person to finish a sentence. They always interrupt. For us Indians, this looks like bad manners or even stupidity. If you start talking, I’m not going to interrupt you. I will listen. Maybe I’ll stop listening if I don’t like what you are saying, but I won’t interrupt you.
When you finish speaking, I’ll make up my mind about what you said, but I will not tell you I don’t agree unless it is important. Otherwise, I’ll just keep quiet and I’ll go away. You have told me all I need to know. There is no more to be said. But this is not enough for the majority of white people.
People should regard their words as seeds. They should sow them, and then allow them to grow in silence. Our elders taught us that the earth is always talking to us, but we should keep silent in order to hear her.
There are many voices besides ours. Many voices…”
-Ella Deloria

07/26/2023

Before I was six years old, my grandparents and my mother had taught me that if all the green things that grow were taken from the earth, there could be no life. If all the four-legged creatures were taken from the earth, there could be no life. If all the winged creatures were taken from the earth, there could be no life. If all our relatives who crawl and swim and live within the earth were taken away, there could be no life. But if all the human beings were taken away, life on earth would flourish. That is how insignificant we are.”
Russell Means, Oglala Lakota Nation (November 10, 1939 – October 22, 2012)

07/25/2023

Native American

07/25/2023

SITTING BULL WOUNDED BY THE CROW
By One Bull
About the year 1873 while the Hunkpapa were camped on the banks of the Little Missouri River, they suffered considerable owing to the severity of the winter season. Horses were afflicted with the mange and by spring there was a heavy loss of horses. So on account of this a party of warriors started on foot in quest of Crow horses. Sitting Bull was in this party. They walked a long distance during the night and lay in ambush somewhere during the day-time. On the fourth day, the war-party reached a place where there was a little running stream with some timber on it, evidently a tributary of the Powder River. The Crow village was nestled on the west side of the stream.They sized up everything and after a conference among themselves, decided to keep out of sight till night fall. They selected the shrewdest scout to watch the movements of the village. The Crows had plenty of horses which they kept a very close watch on. Boys and young men were taking care of them.It was noticed that during the day time these horses were taken away some distance from the village to feed. They had a special scout who rides up on the top of the highest hill watching any intruders that may venture toward the village. About evening, just about dusk the Lakota scout reported that all the horses had been driven to the camp except one bunch still grazing in the care of two young boys. The warriors decided to charge upon this immedia-tely. Preliminaries were made and Sitting Bull was assigned to attack the Crow boys in charge of the horses. Now they started at the word Hoka hey. Down the hill they ran toward where the boys were holding the horses. By the time the Lakota warriors had reached the place a party of 'crow warriors' rushed forward from the camp in defense. They shot promiscuously in the dusk and Sitting Bull was shot in the wrist. The other members of the party succeeded getting the horses and one of them -- Kangi nunpa, Two Crows caught a well brokehorse and took it to Sitting Bull, who mounted quickly and succeeded getting away in safety before the Crows had arrived.The Sioux made a clean get-away with nearly fifty head of Crow horses.One of the warriors dug up herb and root medicine, dressed Sitting Bull's wound. He was the only one wounded in that dangerous undertaking. When they reached home the old timers said, "Sitting Bull surely has the endurance of a buffalo bull experiencing all kinds of hardships on the war-path.

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