CLINTON ST. QUARTERLY you come, and she watches you go.” She is the ‘‘earth mother.” Wasn’t she a talisman, near the pathway, to guard the Stone Age encampment at the small lake, above the main river? She is the “ face of Time.” Each individual in the tribe is mortal, but this imperturbable stone drawing has survived countless generations. And will survive many more. Horsethief Butte On Horsethief Butte, rock climbing, trying to go where the shaman went who pa in ted red ochre Tsagaglalal 200 years ago, I met a small tan lizard. Its hands gripped the rock face warily.. “ Tsk, tsk,” I said, “ I apologize for entering your domain.” The lizard cocked its head and darted the tiny forked tongue. This encounter allows me to share the opening poem of Native American Words, by John Gogol. John is the editor of Ameri- can Indian Basketry magazine and an expert on Northwest Indian art. Wednesday night at the Chase Tcimutc The Lizard Why when we write lizard do we stretch toward lizzard, or even lizzzard? We see the serpent in him while native americans thought his hands so human he was man’s own cousin, and warned: Boy, i f you kill lizard, you kill your sister’s husband! In 1980, neither the cowboys nor the Indians seem to be winning the battle. (Ronald Reagan to the contrary! He may think he’s riding toward the Presidency. But Gary Cooper looked better in the saddle.) At least the Indians knew, if they were to survive, they had to live in harmony with the earthscape and the creatures they shared that space with. The Indians may not have been smart enough to create the auto, electricity, TV, or missile systems, but their philosophy of life and their interaction with it made more sense. Ed Edmo, the Portland Indian poet — a short man with braids occasionally seen in his cups downtown — wrote the ultimate Indian’s revenge poem. As members of the Wasco, his family lived near Celilo Falls. To You, Whiteman! In dream sequences o f ages past I saw you coming. I saw you hungry, and I fed you. I saw you scared, and I comforted you. I saw you tired, and allowed you to rest in my lodge. I saw your greed in your sleep and I knew I should have killed you then, but I fe lt sorry fo r you and let you sleep. You woke and took all I had. Now I am waiting fo r you to get tired again and fa ll asleep. Surely I shall kill you this time, to take away your nightmares will be my honor. Celilo swallowed, Coyote Canyon, the bones defiled on Memaloose Island. Driving back, in my mind’s eye, I became obsessed with that trance-like moon face, beside the once-natural river. If “ She Who Watches” conveys any message — other than that of enigma itself — to the now generation, it is: This society isn’t going to make it. The river is dammed, the great salmon runs are dead. Highways and railroad tracks on both sides. Agri-pollution in the water and radiation from Hanford. The incandescent blast of atomic warfare, I doubt, would not scar the stone face, or alter its features so as to make it any less prophetic. Footnote: The Chase Americans continue to spur a dead horse! Folks who can’t ride buy 500-dollar Tony Lama boots in Beverly Hills and Manhattan. We ought not, as a nation, buy the myth of a nobler, simpler past. Every Wednesday night swinging singles gather at The Chase bar and lounge, at SW 92nd, on the Beaverton-Hillsdale Highway. There is a disco, a male-strip show, and mechanical rodeo. Besides taking off their clothes, the rhinestone shitkickers try to ride a bucking barrel! The Bucking Barrel Contest is open to anyone with balls who might wish to see them get broken. The ladies love it! And so would the Indians. Source books, many of which can be found at the Oregon Historical Society bookstore: N.G. Seaman, Indian Relics o f the Pacific Northwest. Indian Legends o f the Pacific Northwest, by Ella E. Clark. Tahmahnaw, The Bridge o f the Gods, by Jim Att- well. Carleton Watkins’ photos of The Columbia River Gorge (1850-60). American Indian Basketry mag and Native American Words by John Gogol. Come to Our Salmon Feast by Martha McKeown. Special thanks should be given to Tom Binford. I spoke with him at the publishing house, on 2536 S.E. 11th. He allowed me to use photos from Come To Our Salmon Feast and Lind a ’s In d ia n H om e , by the McKeowns. He recommended The Bridge o f the Gods by Frederic Homer Balch. This classic has been in continuous publication longer than any other Oregon book, over 100 We're not just a health food store .. . We carry a complete line of groceries — from lettuce to Haagen-Dazs, from pintos to paprika, from toothpaste to pet food. . . .and we're not just a grocery. We select our products for purity, nutritional value and ecological impact. You won't find sugar. You won 't find preservatives. But you will find a stunning variety of wholesomely delicious food. Jams of just berries. Milk with cream at the top. Freshly ground flours. Organically grown fruits and vegetables. Luscious desserts. We're something else. Corbett store: 5909 S.W. Corbett near Johns Landing, Bus 40, 244-3934 Fremont store: 3437 N.E. 24th near Fremont, Bus 9, 288-3414 24-25 Night People 27-28 Mithrandir 31 Annual Gala Halloween Costume Blooz Bash with Pete Karnes 29-Nov. 1 Pete Karnes Blooz Band 2-4 Nu Shooz 5-8 Paul deLay 10-11 Driving Sideways 12-15 Island 16 Hot Property — benefit for Assoc, for Childbirth at Home 17-19 Liquid Blues 20-23 Streamliner 24-25 St. Champagne 26-29 Wheatfield ' Tuesday Nights Dollar Nights $1 Cover and Pitchers Happy hour 3-7 daily phone 227-4573 I.D. required 21st Ave. Portland, Ore. 97209 Robert Hanson Lynn Ludlow Personalized Services Haircutting Permanent Waving Coloring Styling for Men and Women Tues.-Fri. 10-9 Sat. 10-6 for appointments 222-7025 38
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