They go home together, but each find that they are disappointed by the other.
In “Crazy Horse Dreams,” Victor meets an attractive and engaging Indian woman at a powwow. This story outlines the dissolution of Victor’s father’s marriage to Victor’s mother “when an Indian marriage starts to fall apart, it’s destructive Indians fight their way to the end, holding onto the last good thing, because our whole lives have to do with survival.” “Because My Father Always Said He Was the Only Indian Who Saw Jimi Hendrix Play ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ at Woodstock” is an ode to Victor’s father, who was, according to Victor, “the perfect hippie during the sixties, since all the hippies were trying to be Indians.” Victor recollects nights when his father would come home drunk, and could only be comforted and lulled by Jimi Hendrix tapes. In “A Drug Called Tradition,” Victor and his friends Junior Polatkin and Thomas Builds-the-Fire take drugs in hopes of each experiencing their own visions. We are trapped in the now.In “Every Little Hurricane,” Alexie introduces the volatile world of Victor’s childhood-the Spokane Indian Reservation, 1976-when a hurricane “drops from the sky” during a raucous, drunken, violent party at Victor’s family’s HUD house. The past, the present, the future, all of it is wrapped up in the now. Hell, Indians never need to wear a watch because your skeletons will always remind you about the time. Sometimes your skeletons will look exactly like your parents and offer you gifts.īut, no matter what they do, keep walking, keep moving. Sometimes your skeletons will dress up as your best friend and offer you a drink, one more for the road. Sometimes your skeletons will dress up as beautiful Indian women and ask you to slow dance. Maybe they’ll make you promises, tell you all the things you want to hear. Sometimes, though, your skeletons will talk to you, tell you to sit down and take a rest, breathe a little. Your past isn’t going to fall behind, and your future won’t get too far ahead. They ain’t ever going to leave you, so you don’t have to worry about that. What you have to do is keep moving, keep walking, in step with your skeletons. But they’re not necessarily evil, unless you let them be. And they can trap you in the in-between, between touching and becoming. Now, these skeletons are made of memories, dreams, and voices. Maybe you don’t wear a watch, but your skeletons do, and they always know what time it is. Your past is a skeleton walking one step behind you, and your future is a skeleton walking one step in front of you.
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