Yesterday was the first time I shopped at our little local grocery store at the same time as a big family of rez folks, looking grim and business-like while they bought two carts of food, much of it chips. I didn't know any of them -- they were too young, meaning in their thirties. Their car had a 38 plate, meaning Glacier County.
Also present was a white man with a gun on his hip in a lawman-type holster. He was with a woman, who was friendly, but he was not. He could easily have been an officer of some kind, maybe a veteran.
It means nothing. Maybe.
We're living in Maybe Times.
No comments:
Post a Comment