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May 23, 2012

PART 2: Q&A with Native Hawaiian Surfer & Craftsman Tom "Pōhaku” Stone

Clip_image008Native Hawaiian surfer Tom "Pōhaku” Stone rides the waves near his home in Hawai`i. From May 20 through 25, Stone—an artist-in-residence at NMAI in Washington—will carve a traditional Hawaiian surfboard and sled in the museum's Potomac Atrium. Photo courtesy of the artist.


For this year's celebration of Native Hawaiian art, history, and culture, the museum welcomes Tom “Pōhaku” Stone, a Native Hawaiian carver from O`ahu, Hawai`i, as an artist-in-residence from Sunday, May 20, through Friday, May 25. Stone will spend the week in the museum's Potomac Atrium demonstrating his skills as he carves a traditional Hawaiian surfboard (papahe´enalu) and lashes together a traditional Hawaiian sled (papaholua).

In the second part of a two-part Q&A, Stone talks about what it was like growing up in Hawai`i, how he first became intersted in traditional Hawaiian sports and crafts, and what it takes to make a great longboard.

Tell me about Hawaiian sledding. I've read that you used to barrel down grassy hills as a child before you even knew about the cultural history of he´e holua. How did you first learn about it?

I originally was taught how to slide downhill on  leaves, which is the first step to learning to ride the actual sled. You would take a stalk of tī leaves and sit on it to slide down a 50 to 70 percent slope on dirt or mud. It was just a cultural practice that we grew up with because it was taught to us at a young age. I believe the intention was to prepare us to commit to the downhill.

Stone holds a traditional hōlua sled. Photo courtesy of the artist. 

Can you tell me about how the ancient sport was used to honor Hawaiian gods? How did the tradition come to an end? When was it revived?

Hōlua sledding and the slide constructed (with a few exceptions) was built off of cliff faces or steep hardened lava slopes, which is the physical representation of Pele the volcano goddess. We usually performed this sport to honor her, showing all that we are willing to sacrifice ourselves; this was also a way for a great Ali'i Nui to show that he was a chief who would sacrifice his life for the people, which also applied to the warriors. When the conversion process from our traditional worshipping to Christianity occurred following the death of Kamehameha I in 1819, the slides and accompanying heiau (areas of worship) were some of the first structures to be dismantled under missionary supervision. Based on my research, this was due to various factors: 1) worshipping female gods went against the white male Christian beliefs; 2) [missionaries] needed to break the connection to the religious system; 3) as the Natives were in cultural collapse due to our great dying from foreign disease, we were looking for a god that would kleep us alive and at the time we believed what the missionaries were preaching.

The art of hōlua was resurrected in 1994 through my efforts to revive our knowledge and connection to this ancient sport that spanned the high islands of the Pacific and to reconnect us to our religion—the of honoring our 400,000 gods for giving us life over 30,000 years.


Stone lashes together a traditional Hōlua. Photo courtesy of the artist.

How is a basic sled built?

The papahōlua is constructed in three parts and reflects the image of a living person who is offering up a sacrifice, which is usually the riders themselves. The three parts are:

The runners (kama`a loa, or "long shoes"), which I draw freehand. The front section that I call the "hand of offerings" is meant to present the offering, and the body extends back as a person prostrating himself. A runner measures in average 12 feet in length by 2 to 4 inches in height by 1 inch in wide.

Then you have the crosspieces (`iako), similar to the outrigger canoe boom when lashing a double-hull canoe support together. The number of these pieces used to lash the runners together is dependent on their length; runners can reach up to 20 feet long.

The last is the handrails (pale), rounded and lashed together with bamboo ('ohe), which provides flexibility to the papahōlua.

The injuries I have are just what happens when you ride hōlua, but what keeps me doing it is my kūleana or responsibility to keep this cultural practice that strengthened our mind, body, and spirit alive. Practices such as this are what keeps us strong when facing the unknown, keeps us connected to who we are as ocean people, to see ourselves as living people with an intact culture rather than be assimilated.

How did you get into teaching? What is the hardest part? What’s your favorite part?

My dedication to passing on the knowledge of our kūpuna [grandparents]; bridging the gap between student and teacher, for students to understand the significance of past, present, and future; the living knowledge and history of my native world and knowing that it is alive with every breath I take.

What is your advice for young Hawaiians who want to reconnect with their culture? What are the new challenges for this younger generation in doing so?

Live for the future but embrace the old ways as your guide, and carry on the traditions that today impact the world. We are a people the world embraces and wishes to know who we are.

How long does it take to carve a surfboard? A sled? What is the oldest Hawaiian sled in existence?

It takes me when I am fully committed to one surfboard, five days from raw material to finish; for the sled it takes a total of 32 hours approximately. The oldest sled known to me is in the Bishop Museum. It belonged to Kanemuna (a great Ali'i Wahine, woman chief) from Ho`okena, Hawai`i Island. The name of this sled is Lonoikamakahiki.

Come meet Stone in person during his artist-in-residency through Friday, May 25, or join him and other Hawaiian artists at this year's annual Celebrate Hawai`i festival on Saturday and Sunday, May 26 & 27, 2012.

For the full schedule of events, visit the museum's website.

To read Part 1 of our Q&A, click here.

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What a tremendous job you guys are doing. Thanks!

A man made surf board sounds good. I want to see one and wants to know how it works. Maybe it does not perfectly works like the modern one but maybe it is just the same when it comes to durability. And also it is good to know that until know there are some people who managed to preserve the culture.

I want to see one and wants to know how it works. Maybe it does not perfectly works like the modern one but maybe it is just the same when it comes to durability.

May 18, 2012

Indian Country in the News: May 18 - May 25, 2012

This week's news highlights include a unique school in Venezuela that seeks preserve indigenous knowledge and culture; the Navajo interpretation of the upcoming solar eclipse; a ruling in Oregon to ban Native American school mascots; and a chilling account from the New York Times about rape and justice in Indian Country:

  • Al Jazeera: Venezuela's indigenous university - "Pemon is enrolled at Venezuela's indigenous university - established to develop community leaders to safeguard lands, rights and ancient cultures. The native peoples of Venezuela comprise just two per cent of the country's 29 million people, and many communities have been established in the jungles, swamps and waterways along the Atlantic and Caribbean coasts for centuries. There, they worship the land, employ shamans, and use traditional healing."
  • ABC: Arizona Tribes Talk Significance of Solar Eclipse - "Seven years old and lounging in a tree listening to the radio, Baje Whitethorne Sr. wasn't aware of the lesson he was about to learn. His grandfather called him down from the tree, saying it was time to go inside their home on the Navajo reservation and wait while the sun died and was reborn. There was going to be a solar eclipse. Whitethorne wanted nothing more than to eat, but he did what he was told. That day, he learned patience and a cultural teaching that he has passed on through a children's book he wrote about why Navajos shouldn't gawk at an eclipse like the one that will be visible Sunday in parts of the western United States."
  • MSNBC: Oregon bans Native American school mascots, images - "Public schools in Oregon must discontinue the use of Native American names, symbols or images as mascots following a State Board of Education vote. Prohibited names include, "Redskins," "Savages," "Indians," "Indianettes," "Chiefs" and "Braves," the board said in a statement Thursday. The board by a 5-1 vote adopted the rule and gave schools until July 2017 to comply."
  • NYTimes: For Native American Women, Scourge of Rape, Rare Justice - "One in three American Indian women have been raped or have experienced an attempted rape, according to the Justice Department. Their rate of sexual assault is more than twice the national average. And no place, women’s advocates say, is more dangerous than Alaska’s isolated villages, where there are no roads in or out, and where people are further cut off by undependable telephone, electrical and Internet service. The issue of sexual assaults on American Indian women has become one of the major sources of discord in the current debate between the White House and the House of Representatives over the latest reauthorization of the landmark Violence Against Women Act of 1994."

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Indian Country in the News: May 11 - May 18, 2012

This week's news highlights include a U.N. report calling for the return of sacred lands in the U.S. to Native Americans; a column from the New York Times weighing in on the lawsuit between a tribe in South Dakota against a beer conglomerate; the stunning discovery of an ancient Mayan calendar in Guatemala; and a new approach to education in Arizona:

  • AP: UN official says US must return control of sacred lands to Native Americans - "The United States must do more to heal the wounds of indigenous peoples caused by more than a century of oppression, including restoring control over lands Native Americans consider to be sacred, according to a U.N. human rights investigator. James Anaya, the U.N. special rapporteur on the rights of indigenous peoples, just completed a 12-day visit to the United States where he met with representatives of indigenous peoples in the District of Columbia, Arizona, Alaska, Oregon, Washington State, South Dakota, and Oklahoma. He also met with U.S. government officials."
  • A Battle With the Brewers - "After seeing Anheuser-Busch’s devastating exploitation of American Indians, I’m done with its beer. The human toll is evident here in Whiteclay: men and women staggering on the street, or passed out, whispers of girls traded for alcohol. The town has a population of about 10 people, but it sells more than four million cans of beer and malt liquor annually — because it is the main channel through which alcohol illegally enters the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation a few steps away."
  • NatGeo: Unprecedented Maya Mural Found, Contradicts 2012 "Doomsday" Myth - "In the last known largely unexcavated Maya megacity, archaeologists have uncovered the only known mural adorning an ancient Maya house, a new study says—and it's not just any mural. In addition to a still vibrant scene of a king and his retinue, the walls are rife with calculations that helped ancient scribes track vast amounts of time. Contrary to the idea the Maya predicted the end of the world in 2012, the markings suggests dates thousands of years beyond that."
  • TIME: Learning That Works - "Clyde McBride is one of those everyday saints who, without much fanfare, go about the work of changing, and sometimes saving, the lives of children. He teaches agricultural science on the Navajo reservation in Kayenta, Ariz. He's a memorable-looking fellow, with his cowboy hat, horsehide tie and a body like a giant sack of flour perched on tiny toothpick legs. His most notable characteristic, though, is his persistence. When a new school superintendent arrived in town a few years ago, McBride parked himself on the guy's doorstep. "He came in and gave me the 'I have a dream' speech," says superintendent Harry Martin. "I told him I'd think about it, but he wouldn't let me think about it. He was bugging me three, four times a week about it."

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I have come to the conclusion that we all have a little blame global warming and its consequences and guilt even more politicians who do not slow down.

May 17, 2012

PART 1: Q&A with Native Hawaiian Surfer & Craftsman Tom "Pōhaku” Stone

Surfer Tom "Pōhaku” Stone carries one of his own creations near his home in Hawaii. Photo courtesy of the artist. 

For this year's celebration of Native Hawaiian art, history and culture, the museum welcomes Tom “Pōhaku” Stone, a Native Hawaiian carver from O`ahu, Hawai`i, as an artist-in-residence from Sunday, May 20, through Friday, May 25. Stone will spend the week in the museum's Potomac Atrium creating a traditional Hawaiian surfboard (
papahe´enalu) and sled (papaholua) in front of visitors.

In the first of a two-part Q&A, Stone talks about traditional Hawaiian culture and what it takes to make a great surfboard. 

Tell me about growing up in Hawai`i. What are some of your earliest childhood memories? 

The earliest is living and growing up on the beaches of Kahana Bay, Waimanalo, Waikīkī, Kailua, where I learned the ways of the ocean, to fish and surf. I had an opportunity to surf with [Olympic swimmer and legendary surfer] Duke [Kahanamoku], Blue, Steamboat, and the other beachboys of the time. I had the chance to ride those great wood boards they had then. My dad carved the first board I owned. I had time to live with my grandfather, who told a lot of stories about leaping off of cliffs and sliding down the mountainsides on leaves and hōlua sleds. I also grew up in a remote area of the Big Island in a place called Hawi on my great-uncle's ranch. I lived everywhere throughout Hawai`i, learning our cultural traditions.

What are some of the most common misconceptions you come across about Hawai`i and its indigenous culture? 

That we as Hawaiians are not alive anymore; that surfing is the sport of kings only; that women did not participate in traditional Native Hawaiian sports such as surfing and hōlua sledding.

What can you tell me about the history of surfing? When did it become popular?

I know for a fact that surfing is uniquely Hawaiian, and that surfing (standing on a craft made specifically for the purpose) as we know it began in Hawai'i and no other place in the world. Hawai`i is the only place in the world where the artifacts are found that connect us to this ancient sport, the Hawaiian people, or Kanaka Maoli, as we are properly referred to.

Surfing would become popular when Alexander Hume Ford, along with the annexationists (individuals who conspired to take our nation with the help of the U.S.) needed to sell a tourist destination. Surfing was the most attractive cultural activity that called out to affluent foreigners who were seeking adventure and the experience of going native, which would become world-renowned during the 1920s. Duke would become in essence the "Hawaiian poster" surfer. Duke shared his ocean knowledge with anyone who wished to learn, including myself as a young boy.

Stone poses with a collection of boards near his home. Photo courtesy of the artist. 

What stories do you remember hearing as a child? Do you now tell the same stories? 

The great feats of surfing, paddling across the channels between the islands, the great leaps of faith from high cliffs, learning to fly like the birds, hōlua; I still tell the stories, but now I also include my experiences as a means of keeping our history and culture alive for generations to come.

Tell me about the “Pohaku” in your name. What does it mean? Where did it come from? Why the quotes?

Pōhaku is the Hawaiian word for "stone" or "rock," but in the deeper meaning Pōhaku means "Master of Darkness," which comes from a Hawaiian concept of someone who is given the responsibility to preserve life, and where that life originates from—the darkness itself.

For our family, we would hānai, or adopt, this name in the early 1860s, when all Native Hawaiian children born after 1860 were required to have an English surname. This was a law initiated by white American business and missionary men who had now dominated our Hawaiian government. A man named Samuel Stone arrived in Hawai`i during this time, and my family hosted him in our home. Alomalie, our great ancestor, would eventually have a son who would be named Samuel Stone—not because Samuel Stone actually fathered this boy, but because it gave my family the opportunity to abide by the laws of our Kingdom and adopt the name Stone. Our actual name is Mahihelelima, who was the last great Kohala Ali`inui of Hana, Maui as well.

When did you first learn to surf? What was it like? What made you want to continue? 

I was four years old when I can first remember riding a wave with the wind coming at me and the water splashing off of the sides. I was six years old when I paddled out to Waikīkī, caught my first wave on a giant board that belonged to [Hawaiian wrestler] Curtis Laukea. At eight, I carried one of the great wood boards to the water and surfed at Canoes, a famous spot at Waikīkī. Riding a wave has never changed for me. It is that glide across the face of the wave as it takes you on a ride that is one-on-one with you and the mana, or energy, of the ocean.

Stone works on a traditional Hawaiian surfboard (papahe’enalu). Photo courtesy of the artist. 

How did you first learn to carve boards? Can you tell me about the history behind the tradition?

My dad actually carved me a board from wood, and I was fortunate to watch him go through the entire process, so I would have to say that it was my dad who taught me the traditional art of surfboard carving. There were others like Duke, Blue, Steamboat, Rabbit who I would get to watch, and my grandfather (tūtū kahanu), who would tell me stories about the old time and places. Like all other cultural practices of my people, this was what all people know how to make since we all would surf and play in the ocean. But there were individuals who are masters at the art of surfboard-making and riding a wave on all types of boards crafted for the art of wave-riding. It would be these individuals who would make surfboards for the Ali`i Nui (chief).

What are the basic steps of carving a board? What makes a board more successful than others?

The real basic step is how you bless the wood so the spirit of the actual tree that provides the piece remains alive while it goes through its rebirth. Preparing it means that the wood might be buried in a lo`i kalo, buried in sand, or submersed in the ocean—for years depending on the size—to remove the sap and place in it other natural elements that would stabalize the wood to keep it from twisting or cracking, and perhaps to change its color. The board would then go through a slow drying process while it was worked on, which could take years using stone implements. This, in the end, is what traditionally makes one board more successful then another.

Meet Stone in person during his artist-in-residency, or join him and other Hawaiian artists at this year's annual Celebrate Hawai`i festival on Saturday and Sunday, May 26 & 27, 2012.

For the full schedule of events, visit our website.

To read Part 2 of our Q&A, click here.

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I find your blog very interesting since I really like surfing. But I admit that I don't know how to surf. It's just that everytime I saw a person surfing especially if it's a woman, I really feel envious. I don't know, no matter how I like a sport but if it's really not for me, then I couldn't do anything but just look at them and wow from afar. Cheers! -Lisa

I love this blog, so much great information. I learned a lot from this blog and plan on using what I learned to better my self. Thanks so much for your post and I will subscribe to your blog right away

I learned more in this short article about Pōhaku and surfboards. It was a fun, interesting post.

Now if there was only a way to get to Hawaii next week to meet Stone in person. ; )

Thanks for your excellent article!

How interesting to live since childhood so in touch with nature, just learn the art of making a surfboard as ancestrally ago, thank you very much

nice share bro,

Your blog site is excellent. Say thanks to you truly for providing plenty of both useful and interesting advise. I will bookmark bookmark your website and will be absolutely coming back. Again, I truly appreciate all your work furthermore providing plenty of worthwhile info for the audience.

Hello molly,

A great blog you've got. I really appreciate what you are doing. Thanks man!

I've read this article and find the story really interesting. I did not know before how people where making such things with wood, but now I know!

Best regards,


I'd like to surf but where I live the waves are very low and I can't. I wish a day I'll travel to Hawaii or California and have a try as they're wonderful places and there you can smell the real essence of this sport.

I know surfing originally come from Hawaii, but few people know it, as happens every time that something becomes famous around the world and so loses its origins. In this article it's clear that in those places surf still has a strong spiritual sense and not just a commercial one.

Thats a really cool looking board! You hardly ever see anyone with interesting boards nowadays

I love this blog, so much great information. I learned a lot from this blog and plan on using what I learned to better my self. Thanks so much for your post and I will subscribe to your blog right away

Nice to still see someone crafting by hand those boards are awesome.

They should be as respected and promoted as all other more mainstream sports.
Cheers to native Hawaiian Surfer!!

Respect. Here in South Africa when I learned to surf in '67 the shortest board was 11 foot plus. Some were hollow and of wood and they were damn heavy.You really needed two guys to get it to the waters edge if it was some distance .We were just starting to get fiber glass ones out on the surf. To plane out a solid board like you did is real tradition. Very rare these jiffy fix days.

May 11, 2012

A Native Son's Tribute to New York

Thomas W Coffin, coyote driving a van

Thomas W. Coffin (Prairie Band Potawatomie). Untitled (Coyote arrives in New York), 1988. Pastel on paper, 40 x 40 cm.

Note: To support the museum, please go to Partners in Preservation and vote for NMAI-NY. Your vote may make the difference in the museum's earning a grant of $200,000 toward construction of a new children's learning center at the National Museum of the American Indian in New York. We appreciate your taking the time to vote every day through May 21. Thank you.

If I can make it here, I’ll make it anywhere!—Centuries before American pop culture immortalized living in New York as the ultimate measure of success, generations of Native people—a few known, most not—were making it here, and we continue to make it here every day. It was Native people, not Broadway talent scouts or Madison Avenue ad men, who first determined that New York was the place to be. With its many waterways and ample natural resources, Mannahata—“the hilly island” in the language of the Delaware—and its environs provided a bountiful home for several Native communities. What is now New York City was a melting pot long before the Dutch, the English, and other immigrants laid claim to it.

New Yorkers readily recognize the Native presence here in the many Native place names around the metropolitan area. Yet it may surprise many to know that New York City has the largest urban population of Native people in the United States. Almost 90,000 New Yorkers claim American Indian or Alaska Native heritage, according to the 2000 census. I am one of them.

I’m also the only native New Yorker in my family and, like any New Yorker, very proud of that fact. My Pueblo father and Spanish mother were born and raised in New Mexico. My two sisters were born in Nebraska and California, respectively. My father was the first Native American dentist in the United States, and his tours of duty in the U.S. Public Health Service took our family to various places around the country. In the summer of 1960, the family moved from Harlem, Montana—on the Fort Belknap Reservation, home of the Gros Ventre and Assiniboine tribes—to Staten Island, where my dad had been assigned to a residency program. I was born less than a year later. This would be our last stop.

My family remembers their arrival in New York. As my father approached the city on the New Jersey Turnpike, he caught his first glimpse of the famous Manhattan skyline. At that moment, he decided not to take the Staten Island exit, but to head straight for that skyline, which he had only seen in movies like Broadway Melody and 42nd Street. With my mother and sisters in tow, he drove our 1958 Chevy over the George Washington Bridge and headed downtown, into the heart of the city, to see Times Square, Macy’s (from Miracle on 34th Street), the Empire State Building (On the Town, An Affair to Remember, King Kong), the Metropolitan Opera House, and other iconic New York sites. As every New Yorker knows, he’d have been better off taking the Lincoln Tunnel, but he wanted to see everything. Heaven only knows how this Pueblo dentist, just in from Montana, navigated his way through Manhattan’s streets and traffic, but he was on a mission. For him, this was New York. Still is. 

After spending a few nights in a Staten Island motel, my parents found an apartment at the northern end of the borough. At night, from the dining-room window of our small apartment, we could see the lights of the Verrazano Narrows Bridge as it was being built. I am certain that these early memories, along with the knowledge that my Grandpa Blue Spruce was an accomplished draftsman and furniture-maker, indirectly influenced me to become an architect.

Lincoln Center 10-64

Duane and his sisters at Lincoln Center, 1964. Photo courtesy of the Blue Spruce family.

My acutely nonurban parents fully embraced the New York experience and encouraged my sisters and me to do the same. They made sure that we appreciated every cultural landmark New York had to offer—the “new” Lincoln Center, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Guggenheim, the Cloisters, Madison Square Garden, Yankee Stadium, Shea Stadium, the Bronx Zoo, Broadway and Times Square, Rockefeller Center and Radio City Music Hall, the American Museum of Natural History, the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, Coney Island, and the Museum of the American Indian at West 155th Street and Broadway. My parents divorced a few years later, and my father left New York in 1966. My mother, barely thirty and now a single mother, struggled, but she continued her role as her children’s ambassador to New York City. We couldn’t afford a car, so we made all of these excursions by bus, subway, and that floating New York icon, the Staten Island Ferry, which gave our trips an air of adventure.

Unfortunately, my parents’ divorce not only split up our family, it separated my sisters and me from our Pueblo heritage. We never had enough money to visit New Mexico. Our Spanish relatives came to visit, but their visits were rare. Even so, I can still remember my Grandma Martinez, in our cramped kitchen, flipping dough back and forth between her hands as she made us tortillas for breakfast. Aside from the Pueblo artwork around our apartment and stories of New Mexico from my mother, our knowledge of our Native roots was limited. Still, my sisters and I were proud of our heritage, and not just because we had the coolest last name of any of our friends. More than two decades later, I reunited with my father and other Pueblo family members, and they have bridged many of the cultural gaps that had opened over the years.


The opening of the National Museum of the American Indian–New York within the historic Alexander Hamilton U.S. Custom House, 1994. Photo by Krause/Johansen for NMAI.

In 1975, I was accepted into the prestigious Regis High School on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. This meant that I had to take the bus, the ferry, and the subway to get to school—an hour and twenty minutes each way, on a good day. At the tender age of fourteen, I became a seasoned New York commuter, complete with a stoic commuter face and my fingertips blackened by New York Times newsprint. One of the more intriguing parts of my daily commute was the short walk from the Whitehall Street ferry terminal to the Bowling Green subway station, when I walked past an amazing, though empty and lifeless, building—the U.S. Custom House, now home to the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian–New York. Little did I know then that I would go off to Syracuse University, pursue a career in architecture and museum work in New York, Santa Fe, and Washington, D.C., and, thirty years later, wind up working in that very same Beaux Arts landmark.

Not a bad story for a Pueblo/Spanish kid who grew up on Staten Island, but it’s just one of thousands of stories of Native New Yorkers and our experiences in the city. I hope that these memories give you a sense of one Native American’s feelings for this city and for the National Museum of the American Indian here, a New York cultural institution dedicated to presenting the stories of all the Native peoples of the Western Hemisphere.

—Duane Blue Spruce (Laguna and San Juan Pueblo)

DuaneBlue SpruceDuane Blue Spruce, planning coordinator at the National Museum of the American Indian in New York, is currently taking part in the Smithsonian Palmer Leadership Development Program. Photo by Cynthia Frankenburg, NMAI.




This essay is adapted from the foreword to Mother Earth/Father Skyline: A Souvenir Book of Native New York, edited by Duane Blue Spruce and published by the National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI). The drawing of Coyote arriving in New York is from the NMAI children's book Coyote in Love with a Star, written by Marty Kreipe de Montaño (Prairie Band Potawatomi) and illustrated by Thomas W. Coffin.

 © NMAI, Smithsonian Institution.

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It's the first time I seach this site and I am really enthusiastic about so many good articles. I think it is just very good.

This article is very nice. One day I hope I can come to visit this museum to learn more about American Indian – New York