Regain a Just American Spirit

Burying My Heart with My Broken Knees: Reflections on Scars, Wisdom, and Reparations 

Recently, during a visit to my dermatologist, I remarked lightheartedly about the countless scars dotting my skin—souvenirs of my years as a tennis instructor, spent baking under the relentless sun by my own sundance. These thirty-plus marks, pale in significance next to the deeper, emotional scars I carry as a witness to the long-standing injustices faced by Indigenous peoples in this country.  

I've always found solace in nature. As a boy enduring Washington, D.C.’s sweltering summers on passive solar panels known as tennis courts. The shade and cool air provided by trees became my refuge from the horrific heat. 

The wisdom of the forest is where I developed a profound respect for wisdom of Indigenous communities.  

This connection is woven into my own history. My grandfather, both a genealogist and a government statistician, worked extensively with Native data. My lineage traces back to thirteen Mayflower families—early settlers whose actions inflicted unimaginable harm upon Indigenous peoples, including the spread of diseases like smallpox. This legacy of exploitation and violence weighs heavily on me.  

The injustices didn’t end with colonization. Indigenous peoples endured forced removal from their ancestral lands, often under the guise of deceitful treaties, stripping them of resources, culture, and identity.  

My appreciation for Native philosophies blossomed alongside my love of nature. In high school, I explored “I feel therefore I am,” Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s admiration for what he called the “noble savage”. By college, my studies delved deeper into Native philosophies. Over the years, I immersed myself in their teachings—praying at my medicine wheel, hosting sweat lodges on my property, and engaging with Lakota medicine man Richard Moose Camp after 9/11. I hold dear the sacred pipe Moose Camp gifted me, a symbol of trust and respect, and I treasure the guidance of Grandmother Lillian, who led me through a profound three-day vision quest as a sacred pipe keeper.  

Since the 1970s, I have championed conservation efforts—introducing recycling programs across Washington, D.C., and serving as a national Earth Day organizer in 1980. Also as an international used oil expert, I  helped build and manage the regions largest recycling facility.

In the late ’70s, I donated my car, tipi and poles to “The Longest Walk,” as their sacred medicine tent. This was a pivotal Native American rights protest. Though I never saw those items again, a Choctaw medicine man sent me a heartfelt letter of gratitude remains a cherished memory.  

The Longest Walk was transformative, shining a spotlight on federal legislation threatening Native land, fishing, and mineral rights. It underscored the resilience and unwavering resolve of Indigenous communities fighting for justice.  

By the late 1970s, even institutions like the Smithsonian began acknowledging ethical wrongs in studying Indigenous remains. The federal legislation of 1990 established safeguards for the repatriation of Native American human remains and sacred artifacts. Yet, recent discoveries of mass graves at Indigenous schools in Canada are a harrowing reminder of the work still ahead.  

Today, Indigenous communities stand as stewards of environmental conservation, sustainable land management, and cultural preservation. Yet they continue to face systemic challenges—poverty, inadequate healthcare access, and political marginalization.  

The 2007 adoption of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples signaled a global commitment to their protection and recognition. Reparations must go beyond financial gestures; they must honor respect, heritage, and self-determination.  

As a nation, we must confront the shadows of our history and uplift the resilience of Indigenous peoples. Nearly every day, I kneel in reflection at my medicine wheel, seeking forgiveness for the harm done to our land and all people. Through honest reckoning and meaningful reparations, we can aspire to build a nation grounded in justice, wisdom, and unity.

May we pray together and not prey on each other and regain a just American spirit.