In the 1991 film, Grand Canyon, starring Kevin Kline (who plays Mack), Danny Glover plays the role of Simon, an uncle, father, mentor, wizened cultural elder . . . and a tow truck driver who finds himself facing a gang leader with a gun while trying to do his job and tow Kevin Kline’s Lamborghini.  Kline’s character, an immigration lawyer, had left a late-night Laker’s game in his car and is detoured from his normal route by traffic and a series of missed turns.  As it happens, his car breaks down in a dangerous neighborhood patrolled by gangs.  Knowing that he is lost and in trouble, he calls for help from the towing company . . . and from Simon, whom he had never met previously.

Simon arrives after the gang has arrived, after Mack had been forced out of his car and just before life was becoming visibly precious and precarious.  Simon steps in between the gang leader and Mack . .  . 

Simon: I've gotta ask you for a favor. Let me go my way here. This truck's my responsibility, and now that the car's hooked up to it, it's my responsibility too.

Rocstar (the gang leader): Do you think I'm stupid? 

Simon: Look, I don't know nothing about you; you don't know nothing about me. I don't know if you're stupid, or some kind of genius. All I know is that I need to get out of here, and you got the gun. So I'm asking you, for the second time, let me go my way here.

Rocstar: I'm gonna grant you that favor, and I'm gonna expect you to remember it if we ever meet again. But tell me this, are you asking me as a sign of respect, or are you asking because I've got the gun?

Simon: Man, the world ain't supposed to work like this. I mean, maybe you don't know that yet. I'm supposed to be able to do my job without having to ask you if I can. That dude is supposed to be able to wait with his car without you ripping him off. Everything is supposed to be different than it is.

I think of Simon’s words often in my role.  I think of those words when the proud Lakota mother calls virtually every morning to see if she can earn money delivering firewood and food to her community.  I think of those words when our 71-year-old firekeeper struggles under the weight of raising six children with less than $750/month.  I think of those words when I hear the brothers share the stories of their sisters being groomed and bribed to leave their home and become prostitutes.  Of how the FBI is aware of the sex ring, but ineffective this time (and so many others) to stop it.  I think of it as I drive by the “Death to the Whiteman” painting in Whiteclay that welcomes, warns, and explains of the landscape ahead.

The world is not supposed to work like this.  Maybe none of us really know that anymore.  Families are supposed to be warm, fed, and safe.  Governments are supposed to be at least moderately able to ensure those same conditions.  And to work with other entities responsible for the health and safety of the people they serve.  In the midst of plenty, there should be (is) enough to feed, warm and keep safe our neighbors and relatives.

Tragically, that is not the way the reservations are though.  I am struck sometimes by how – despite our valiant army of volunteers; and intensely proud, hardworking tribal allies; and generous donors; and well-intentioned efforts – I am struck by how difficult it is to provide enough to ease the suffering.  

Last year, we had several of our long time Lakota friends from Pine Ridge join us on the Hopi and Diné reservations to volunteer rebuilding homes, cutting, and stacking firewood, etc.  On one of the days, a group took a day off from the work to travel for the first time to the Grand Canyon – from South Dakota to one of the seven natural wonders of the world.  That evening, in the circle as we processed our day, one of the Lakota men remarked how stunning the experience of standing on the south rim was . . . and how someday he hoped to bring youth from his reservation down to see what he saw and to experience what he experienced . .  .   He was inspired to someday release red balloons from the rim with his young people who are caught in a world that doesn’t have to be . . . and must change.

In the movie, Simon asks Mack:

You ever been to the Grand Canyon? It's pretty, but that's not the thing of it. You can sit on the edge of that big ol' thing and those rocks... the cliffs and rocks are so old... it took so long for that thing to get like that... and it ain't done either! It happens right there while you’re watching it. Its happening right now as we are sitting here in this ugly town. When you sit on the edge of that thing, you realize that our time here means diddly to those rocks. Just a split second we have been here, the whole lot of us. That's a piece of time so small to even get a name. Those rocks are laughing at me right now, me and my worries... Yeah, it’s real humorous, that Grand Canyon. 

And so, I take comfort in knowing that Simon and the rocks are right. Change is happening. Good and magnificent changes. For all of you who work alongside us in this slow, sometimes painful and frustrating, often tragic and but ultimately beautiful work, I share my heartfelt gratitude.

Thank you. Wopila.  Askwali.  Kwakwhay.  Ahéhee'.

- Dave