A Navajo in the North – a Renaissance Indian column

"California Dreaming….sort of…." © Rhiana Yazzie 2009

The dead of winter. …I’ll say it again. Ahem. The dead of winter. Now insert evil laugh here—with a Minnesota accent.

Up here in Minnesota we just came out of the dead of winter. There’s about two to three weeks in late January when everything stops. Everything burrows in, hunkers down, cozies up, and orders out.

Starting in about November, the temperature hovers around 30-15 degrees. Heck, after living up here for nearly three years now, I call that swimsuit weather. The sun still shines a bit and the fat squirrels still scamper about collecting left over autumn nuts and screech at the human ones waiting for hockey season.

Snow falls fluffy and crisp just like in "Edward Scissor Hands." The Canada Geese fly overhead. Eagles begin ice fishing on the Mississippi River. A brisk breeze sometimes gets through the plastic on the windows. The landlord controlled radiator finally gets hot. And the annoying guy upstairs whose been learning to play guitar all summer sings "Knocking on Heaven’s Door" at 2 a.m. after a pleasant late night walk back from the local tavern about a mile away. All is picturesque, all is Snoopy and Charlie Brown Christmas, all is well. And right about now you might be tempted to think "winter isn’t so bad is it?"

Then January comes…

I admit, this was a pretty good January as Januarys go. We got a new president and, and, and we got a new president. So the cold wasn’t the only thing to give my attention to this year. In fact, I’m happy to report that I no longer wear a parka! Ha! Take that Minnesota!

It turns out that after being in a climate for a while, your blood starts to adjust. And apparently, I’ve adjusted. So I’ve been making due with a cute black hooded jacket and a nice wooly vest. Well, yes, and the standard issue long underwear.

For Christmas I got a box of Canadian literature, in it was a book called "Three Day Road" by Metis writer, Joseph Boyden. Many times the characters experience this thing called, the dead of winter. At points people are starving and freezing and basically suffering from the dead of winter. And I have to credit Mr. Boyden with my new favorite term, the dead of winter. Snuggled warm in my bed at night as I read, I sympathized, I empathized, I identified with those poor freezing characters. I mean I am a Minnesotan now, I get the term "dead of winter."

Well I thought I did until it hit. Yes, the real dead of winter. And, as they say, without warning!

I would have heard this on my car radio if my car hadn’t quit…moving. The coldest day in five years struck on Thursday, January 15th! It was -21 degrees with a wind chill of about -40! It’s funny how schools and offices close when the snow gets deep, but it seems there is a certain Minnesota ethic about not not going to work. I heard that schools were closed, but day jobs were open, wide open. Like a dutiful Minnesotan, I tried to go work that morning. Unfortunately, my New Mexico bought, California nurtured car didn’t feel the same way. Its little So Cal battery would have no part in this icicle charade. But the only problem with that was my poor little car didn’t tell me that until we were already half way there.

I think it builds character to get stranded in your car on the coldest day in five years. In fact it take guts determination and some brains. All things I can thank my Navajo upbringing for. But I did have to rely on some Ojibwe know-how to get the car moving again. They have this term up here called "popping the clutch." Sure it may not roll off the tongue like, "the dead of winter" but it sure it useful. It’s times like this when I really appreciate how the creator made so many different tribes of our people and thoughtfully placed us in new and exciting environments.

Perhaps I can one day repay my Ojibwe friends should they come down to the southwest on a super hot and sunny day. Maybe I’ll help them fry an egg on the car hood, or show them the benefits of sunscreen.

I really believe that 2009 is going to be a great year, despite the way it caught me off guard. But at least it’s still another 11 months till I face once again, the dead of winter.

—Rhiana Yazzie is a Navajo playwright based in the Twin Cities.

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