Then, sadly, Dan died. It was a loss to me and to everyone who knew him. It seemed like an appropriate time for me to withdraw and let the book make its own way. But it was not so simple. Dan had captured peoples' hearts and imaginations. His story had touched readers who had never before given a thought to Native America. He had articulated the feelings of many Native people who had been seeking a voice by which to explain themselves to their non-Native friends. Most important, his story had contributed in some small fashion to the reshaping of the American cultural narrative that for too long has depicted Native peoples as savages on horseback, drunks in gutters, and wisdom-bearing elders possessed of some mystical earth knowledge. People wanted to hear more from Dan and more about him. They wanted me to tell more of his story. I resisted. I was proud of what we had accomplished. But Dan was gone, and I was uncomfortable serving as a spokesman for a Native point of view and weary of trying to explain the literary method of the project we had undertaken. The book spoke for itself. There was no need to say more. But then came that chance meeting in the café. In that old man's simple, off-handed comment, I heard the echoes of all the
( Kent Nerburn )
[ The Wolf at Twilight: An ]
www.QuoteSweet.com