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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
A brief thought on why I am blessed with what I have and how much I appreciate my Dad!

Submitted: June 24, 2014

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Submitted: June 24, 2014

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~~Oats and sugar. That’s it.
It might not sound like much, but it’s the best meal my dad makes.
Why?
Because that’s the one that means the most. 
A long line of commodities will do that.
Any Indian can make frybread, but no one else can make my dad’s oatmeal.
It tastes like a poor family’s salvation.
It tastes like a predisposition to diabetes.
And, it tastes like home.
It sounds like my grandma saying, “Eat it. It’s good for your guts.”
It sounds like by brother speaking at Capitol Hill.
It sounds like my mom, thankful she doesn’t have to cook that night.
I never had the problems that my dad had.
I wasn’t raised on what used to be the Rez.
I never used food stamps.
I never learned how to mix Crisco and commodity peanut butter to fix the awful consistency.
I’ve never known what it is like to go without.
Why?
Because my dad wanted better for himself. For me. For my brother. For his family.
And he succeeded.
Maybe I missed out on something that he had.
Maybe I missed out on life.
Maybe I’ll never know what it’s like to have an empty belly.
Maybe my kids will have it just as good as me.
Why?
Because that’s what my dad wanted for me.
Maybe I’m missing something.
Maybe I’m exaggerating.
Maybe I’m making it all up.
But I know that when I eat my dad’s oatmeal, it’s not just for me.
It’s for every Indian that ever wanted more than commodities.
It’s for my great grandmother, Jane Brown, who was born and died in the same dirt floor shack.
It’s for my dad, who always wanted more-

And that’s exactly what I’ve got.


© Copyright 2019 Dahlton Brown. All rights reserved.

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