Native American Flu Festival

Last Saturday morning was finally the day of an event I’d been talking up for weeks — a real live Native American festival at the Central Library! It’s quite a haul to get there from our house, but there we were, actually early, quite a rarity for us. We actually had already hit the Steinmart 14-hour sale first at 8:30 AM. (Yes, that is a bit incongruous with attending an Indian festival, but a girl’s got to get the bargains while the getting is good, right?) Sam was so excited to meet real live Indians that the entire time we were bargain hunting at Steinmart, he kept asking if we could go to the library and worrying that we were going to be late, late, late and miss the whole pow-wow so to speak.

The description in the library circular said is was going to be a “festival featuring performances of drumming and dances, talks, by tribal leaders and scholars, and artisans and crafters.” Sounds pretty good, huh? We figured we’d see them in their traditional clothing, get to watch them dance, and check out their cool crafts. We were ready for buckskins, feather headresses, and some old-fangled bows and arrows. Who know maybe we’d even get to see warpaint? Maybe they’d show up wearing breech cloths, breastplates, pelts, and moccasins. Would they already have library cards or sign up for them?

I grew up in Massaachusetts close to Plimouth Plantation, so I’ve always had a special affinity for the Pilgrims and Indians.
so we got there a tad early, looked at books and games for a while, and then started to wonder what the heck was going on — or not going on. How come we couldn’t hear them? Surely the whole tribe of Indians couldn’t keep THAT quiet even in a public library. And there sure as heck couldn’t be a conference room off to the side large enough to hold them all. Feeling pretty ridiculous, I finally mustered up the courage to saunter over to a busy librarian. Trying to be casual, I asked, “Um, where are the Indians?” How could we have missed such a jamboree? Seriously how did I screw this one up?

She lifted her glasses (don’t all librarians have glasses?) and looked up at me. Then she uttered the fateful words, “The Indians aren’t coming. They have the flu.” Nooooooooo! I was shocked! Then it struck me as downright hilarious. The fierce warriors I’ve been talking up are all down for the count with the flu. Man, how was the Saminator going to take the crushing news? He actually was a great sport, but kept asking me, “Why are they sick? Why did the get the flu? Why aren’t they coming?” Then he asked me the same questions a dozen more times, not unusual for a 4-year-old. I tried to explain that even tough guys get the flu. We wandered around in a daze for a bit and then consoled ourselves with a trip to the Golden Arches. He seemed fine with the switcheroo, but I was not pleased with a snack wrap instead of experiencing a rockin’ Indian festival! Alas, I reminded myself, we are all human after all, and even tough guys get the flu.

Looks like it’s time to head north to Plimouth Plantation and see where it all began — as long as the flu hasn’t shut it down.