“Chanela”

 

I have a Cherokee name.  I was named by a Speaker. A First Language Speaker. A RattlingGourd. Language is everything. To everyone.

If you are a person interested in other cultures and need something to do but you don’t know what to do, learn a native language. You will be helping to preserve a piece of history that is at risk of vanishing.  Language preservation programs are happening all over the US right now.  If you live in the United States…you live on Native Land.  It’s okay. You will say things wrong and you will be made fun of and not everyone will like you but maybe one day someone will think enough of you to name you.

I was asked something along the lines of “would I miss working on such a highly regarded award-winning show?”  I responded “I’ll miss the people I worked with and the culture I was allowed to witness but it’s really hard to believe how I ended up there.”

I’m not Cherokee. I’m not Native. I’m a middle-aged White guy from New Jersey. Danielle Culp saw something in me…she may have eventually lived to regret it.  She found me in my office at the Gilcrease Museum in Tulsa, Oklahoma.  It was a very gross basement office that had a back door that led to the HVAC for the museum.  Several times a day, museum security would shuffle by my desk as they made their rounds.  It would usually take the new guards a few weeks to stop apologizing as they sauntered through.  Hell, I thought the facetime with security staff was great.  It was way easier to move around the museum with gear or to leave a camera in a weird place for a timelapse.  Sometimes I’d get a text from a security team member with a picture of my camera. “This you?”  It usually was.  At the time I was part of a four person marketing team at the museum.  Even before COVID pushed us to remote, I was finding myself working in video more than still photography, a welcome change of pace.

 

Danielle worked in the education department one floor down.  Danielle’s mother is a Full Blood Cherokee and her Father…is like me.  Basically, Danielle has been dealing with surly White guys her whole life.  Eventually, she darkened my door and was making small talk with me.  We were friendly around the museum, but she had never come to my office before.  I instantly knew she was working up to something.  After she did the polite “how’s the weather” bit, she let it rip.  She had an issue with a design for an upcoming event and was looking for a sympathetic ear.  The banner for an Indigenous music event had elements that looked like tee-pees.  I initially defended it and said something flippant like “I don’t know if that matters…” and Danielle shot back “it would matter if you were always asked if you lived in one.” Some years later, Danielle would take me to Kituwa and walk me barefoot onto the mound to continue the education.

 

Now who’s this?

Kenneth moved from the Jersey Shore to Broken Arrow, Oklahoma when he was 10 years old. He found his passion for still photography while working at his high school yearbook, and later graduated from the University of Oklahoma with a BFA in Art: Photography and a minor in Art History. His first professional job was for the Boy Scouts of America, working at the same Council where he earned his Eagle Scout. Following several years serving as Program Director for Hale Scout Reservation, Kenneth spent over a decade as a freelance still photographer in Tulsa, Oklahoma.  His clients would include ESPN The Magazine, Time,  Inc., Forbes, The Hollywood Reporter, and many more.

Season 8
Primary photography for season 8 of “Osiyo: Voices of the Cherokee People” took place from Summer of 2022 to Spring of 2023.  In those months, Kenneth, the only non-Native member of the full-time field team was honored to work with a group of young and hungry Native Filmmakers. The team consisted of Production Manager Maggie Cunningham, and two Producer/Directors, Colby Luper and Danielle Culp. LeeAnn Dreadfulwater acted as historical researcher and producer. Cody Wayne Hammer started out as a “Camera Operator,” but quickly and confidently earned the title of Cinematographer.  Zac Thomas joined the team as a Cinematographer late in Season 8.  The Director for the stories would swap between Danielle and Colby (and a few others for Season 8) but it was alway Cody and Kenny in the van with a rotating cast of stars out in the field.

Also on the call sheets was Executive Producer, Show Host and Co-Creator, Jennifer (Jen) Loren.  This was who Jen was to me for my day to day work.

  Jen wore many other hats when it came to her day to day. This was an amazing time of growth for Cherokee Films.  Jen was there, but she trusted the team she assembled to get the job done.  Back in the office was also a dedicated and scrappy group of editors.

Bryan Hicks, the most seasoned editor, once told me about watching Chuck Norris lift off from a parking lot in a jet pack while filming Walker Texas Ranger.  I once witnessed Assistant Editor Zac Butler, who, while dressed in 1800s attire, gave some bewildered passers by a lesson in “generational wealth.” Ryker Sixkiller editor, you will get to know him better in a moment. All of Post was managed by Post Production Supervisor Tim Rogers. 

 

 

Back to the reason for all this happening. Danielle.

Danielle and I “trauma bonded” during the early days of COVID-19, when we both still worked for Gilcrease.  We collaborated on a number of very successful projects while working remotely.  She pitched an idea for a video shot overhead.  Hello, production value!

During Covid lockdown, we kept our circles small due to compromised family members, so I wasn’t available to help her make a video in person. That wasn’t a problem for her, however, because she was on a mission. She ultimately came up with a PVC pipe contraption that was jokingly referred to as “the sex swing.”  It was used to capture a 4 part series on how to make your own “Cherokee Pucker Toe Moccasins” and as of this writing it’s still one of the most watched pieces of content on Gilcrease’s YouTube.

Another popular piece Danielle created with “the sex swing” was “Maker Moments: Cherokee Cornhusk Dolls.” And no, that’s not a recorded voiceover.  Danielle told the story while making the doll.  Very “tradish.”

This would be our process over and over for months during remote work.  Once we went to a hybrid in person format the process went from virtual to IRL.  Danielle took to our small scale operation effortlessly.

 

As we approached the closing of the museum for renovations, I took a position with the Jim Glover Auto Family creating their TV Spots. In my 15 months, I would create ~120 “slightly above par” local car commercials. My personal claim to fame is getting a “Wilhelm scream” in one of the spots for a football promotional spot. I also built a wild contraption for that spot, in order to get the “POV” of a thrown football.

Shortly after starting my work with the Glovers, Danielle told me she’d been approached about a producer/director spot with Osiyo.  I told her she was already doing producer work at the museum.  Everything is about scale. Of course she got the job.

Danielle won five Heartland Emmys for her excellent work on Osiyo: Season 7 of Osiyo. It wasn’t long before they were hiring for Camera Department and I’d be getting “a little married” to “The Deadly Uncle” himself, Cody Wayne Hammer.

 

Hammer

Cody was recruited as a D1 college Defensive Lineman (all that needs to be fact checked…or not).  He would eventually drop out to take care of his family.  This is by and large all you need to know about Cody.  He could rip your arms from your torso but he wouldn’t…probably.  That and he has four daughters and a beautiful wife he certainly doesn’t deserve.  Before Cherokee Film, Cody worked in Pawhuska for the Osage Nation News.  He was their photographer/bouncer.  Cody’s first taste of the film industry was watching the production of “Killers of the Flower Moon” take over the street outside his office.  Not too bad as introductions go. Cody told me that he was lucky enough to be in a room with Martin Scorsese.  A Q&A started and Cody says that he got put on the spot to ask a question but instead blurted out a compliment regarding Scorsese’s “Masterclass” spots on YouTube.  I was wrong earlier. You also need to know that about Cody.

 There was a week between when I started and Cody and I met officially.  He and I shook hands when I came in for my second interview and Danielle had already told him everything about me.  Probably too much.  That first Monday morning before the staff meeting everyone was milling around the office and someone asked Cody about his weekend.  This is that story…DUN DUN

 Cody: “Man it was okay but my kid’s dog died.  I had to bury it.”

 At this point everyone is gathering around Cody to hear the story.  When Cody is sad everyone is sad.  Many people are offering condolences.  Cody continues…

 

Cody: “Yeah, I buried him standing up.”

Me: “…huh?”

Cody: “Like hind feet in first and where the hole ends at the top is his head.” 

 

Cody carries on. I lean over to Danielle in a whisper. “Is that a Native thing?” “Nope,” she shoots back.

 I tune back in to Cody telling the group that he didn’t have a real shovel and was doing the best he could with what he had.  As I look back, that resourcefulness in fact, was the “Native thing.”

He also confessed that he hoped one day thousands of years in the future someone would discover the dog’s buried remains standing upright, thus breaking the brains of some futuristic anthropologists. I admire the man’s long game.  Cody and I came from two different worlds but were connected by a shared emotional scarring of our fathers yelling at us during driving lessons, never turning down a challenge to a foot race (I didn’t win but I showed up) and an undying love for Thunderheart.

 During the production of Season 8, Cody and I would spend more time with each other than our own families.  We joked that we were getting pre-divorced as we racked up days of non-stop shooting.  I think it’s safe to say that Cody and I hit it off pretty much immediately professionally.  I also know when we became friends.

We were filming “The Cornholed Boys” in South Carolina, our first travel trip.  Mathew Creekkiller and Jacob Foreman are two Cherokee Citizens from Jay, Oklahoma and they found themselves at the “Cornhole Championship!”  Cody was shooting coverage of the fellas warming up and talking with other competitors and fans. I wandered over to take a peek at what Cody was getting, and he started explaining his frame choice and how he was grabbing the action.  I agreed that it looked great… and would probably be even better if he was rolling on it. Cody looked quickly, confirmed he wasn’t recording, and reached up and hit record on his trusty Canon C70 mounted to a Ronin. After that he looked back at me, both of us now suppressing our laughs to not distract Colby and the “Cornhole Boys.”

That was my first “Big Boy” trip.  I spent the entire week reviewing the pack and attempting to “be prepared” for whatever came our way.  I would be absolutely successful in getting everything we needed to South Carolina.  I would not be successful in getting all the gear out, however, leaving a lens and several NP-F batteries under an arena seat.  The show’s Production Coordinator, Jacob Campos, saved the day when he reached someone at the arena and learned a good samaritan had turned in the bag (and all of its contents) to security. I’ve never been more happy to see NP-F batteries. Thank you, Jacob, and thank you, person who turned that in! Is this why they call them “dummy checks?” That lens would later throw itself to the ground attempting to take a C300 MKIII with it.  Cracked into pieces, its dying words were “why?” I think it never got over the slight of being left behind.  The NPF batteries are chill.

 

Sixkiller

I have no idea why he asked, but Ryker Sixkiller asked Cherokee National Treasure Weynema Smith, “Who’s the greatest Cherokee Warrior?” Without missing a beat, the 93-year-old speaker replied, “Why, you are.” The crew’s laughter was deafening through the room and no one cared what Ryker’s motives were for asking.  Weynema Smith said Ryker Sixkiller is the Greatest Cherokee Warrior, who am I to say otherwise. 

Ryker started as an editor the same week I started in camera.  I don’t think Ryker or I knew what to make of the other at first.  Before we moved into the Cherokee Film office, the production was working out of Fire Thief. We were coming on to an award-winning show that had seven seasons of hard labor done by countless amazing people.  We stood on some very tall shoulders to be where we were.  On my second day, as I turned the corner into the office, Devin Flores, Osiyo’s first Production Assistant hits me with, “Kenny, I was meaning to ask you, are you Native?” “Nope. Total colonizer,” I replied. I kept on walking through the space but I was looking Ryker’s way.  I was pretty sure he heard all that over his headphones because it sure looked like he was trying not to laugh.

Ryker was our favorite guest star in the field during season 8.  Cody and I loved having him on those big days.  Ryker made every absolutely shitty aspect of production palatable.  It was like receiving a care package of muscles, jokes and camera skills!  I knew we’d all carry less of a load those days.  If we were asked if we wanted Ryker to come the answer was always “yes.”

Early drives to places with names I didn’t recognize was a regular occurrence in 8. This one was just numbers and letters on the call sheet.   We were headed to a remote site that the tribe used for plant preservation to interview some Medicine Keepers. The spot we ended up using for the interview was in a tricky place, a half mile down the trail and a narrow squeeze around some water. We hand carried gear in and along the way Ryker blessed our ears with an improvised version of “High-Ho”

“Heigh-Ho, Heigh-Ho

It’s off to Osiyo…”

All while carrying half his body weight.  We had some scrims but didn’t bring a stand (my bad).  Light was changing and we had to get to shooting.  We sent someone back to the van for a stand but we couldn’t wait.  Not a problem for Ryker.  “I’ll just Hollywood it,” Ryker exclaimed! What that means is that Ryker just volunteered to hand hold the 4 foot by 4 foot scrim/wind sail until the C-stand showed up.  We finished the interview before the stand made it.  Ryker held that thing for at least 30 minutes. GOAT. Ryker’s done some amazing work in movies and TV and he’s very dreamy. The cameras love him. He also has a wife he doesn’t deserve and two boys who have a stunt man for a Father.  Ryker would start correcting my Cherokee quickly.  Working with him on the language was an opportunity to learn more about the culture Ryker was connected with.  There is no one way to be Cherokee.

 

 

 

Luper

As we turned the corner into the race track Colby stopped mid sentence and we all began to process the sight of an array of flags which included the “stars and bars” and a bunch of “Let’s Go Brandon” for good measure. I’m not entirely sure what the message was but rolling up with two “brown dudes” that sight hits differently. We get out and kinda laugh and acknowledge the flags and other…signs.  I point at Cody and say “stay close,” with a wink.

Colby greets everyone with a smile and a big “hello!” He gets to work on checking off his production list.  We wandered around the lobby filled with old race cars covered in a fine layer of dust.  My father was a mechanic and these spaces and people were familiar to me even if this was my first time there and I’d never met any of them.  Cody and I followed Colby around as he was shown some photos down the hall.  Everyone was very polite and professional.  Everyone waved goodbye but I was over thinking it.  We got outside and I wanted Colby to know that we could find another location.  I asked him if he wanted to scout more. He looked confused for a second and I said “you know…” and gestured to the flags. He laughed and declined.  “This is where she was so this is where I want to shoot it. Besides they aren’t bad people, they are just misinformed.  But I don’t want any of that shit in the shot.” He winked at me. “Copy.” I replied.

Now it’s possible to look at this story and go “wow, CIS Middle Aged Male Discovers Racism.” I’d prefer to think of it as “Awestruck By Young Film Makers Commitment to Truth.” Also, “Just A Tuesday For Colby.”

 

I performed as hard as I could for everyone on the team, but I always felt pushed the furthest creatively when I was working with Colby.  Colby has a creative’s heart and can articulate a vision. In my experience, it’s rare.  I never felt more successful than when Colby was excited about a frame.  With Danielle it was different, more clinical in a way.  We were cut from the same cloth. It isn’t in our nature to pat each other on the back constantly.  Colby brought an enthusiasm and a reassurance to me that was electrifying.  

 

 

It Shouldn’t Have Worked

During the production of Season 8, the field crew ate more meals together than with our families. The bond that this type of shared experience builds is strong.  It didn’t matter how many back-to-back, pre-dawn call times we had sandwiched between 12-hour days, you knew everyone was going to be on time and ready to roll. The commitment was real and it was from everyone all the time.  We were at the end of a pretty intense run of shoot days and we were back in Tahlequah, Capital of the Cherokee Nation.  Cody and I lugged everything up to a small room where the interview would take place.  I hated this location. Danielle and I went around and around about the space being too small…for weeks. I should have fought more, but at the end of the day, it was her call. I wish I could go back and change all my frames, but that one really haunts me. 

 

There was so much learning happening all the time.  We were a wildly unconventional crew. On paper, Colby was the only one who made sense. The rest of the team was GREEN, including myself.  Danielle had about half a season with the show but was from the museum world. Cody had more or less been teaching himself how to take still photographs with whatever camera he could get his hands on and he was good. Then there was me, “the guy from the car lot.”

So mistakes happened, things could have been better, but we learned. This interview would be referenced countless times when planning other shoots.  If the room was too small for the camera department, it was too small. When we were wrapped, Cody and I started breaking down the set.  This is the only time I can remember that striking the set took longer than setting it.  I looked at Cody and saw how tired he looked.

Me: “Are you alright?”

Cody: “Yeah, I’m just tired.”

Me: “Osda. I thought it was just me.”

 

Danielle had taken me on as a personal project some time ago and thrust all of us together.  I could take any dumb question about Native culture I could muster to Danielle and I would get a very academic answer.  Then she would call me a name that I can’t possibly repeat here.  With Cody, I was seeing something different.  I was getting an education on Native Culture that they don’t put on museum walls but probably should.   

 

*wavy flashback transition

 I spent my summers during college working at the Hale Scout Reservation in Talihina, Oklahoma, a Boy Scout camp.  Eventually, I’d become Program Director, overseeing a camp staff of sixty and hosting 800-1000 Boy Scouts and Leaders per week. I was in my early 20s running a million dollar camp operation on my “Summer Vacation.”  One Summer we had an “Odd Couple” in the Trading Post (TP).On one half was Matt, six feet of pure “Librarian Studies,” great for keeping the TP running like a top. The other half was CJ, a sharp witted and hilarious Black kid from North Tulsa, CJ brought the RIZZ. They got along well enough and the energy in the TP was balanced.  This was also the first year the summer camp had internet.

 

This was handy for Matt who had taken to keeping a notebook on him where he would write down things CJ would say that he didn’t understand.  Sometimes these were things CJ would say to Matt about Matt, sometimes they were even unkind (but hilarious).  After Matt was done in the TP he would hop on the internet on one of the communal computers and head to Urban Dictionary dot com to type in whatever CJ said that day.  Matt took it all in stride but the technique showed me that not every question has to be answered immediately.  

 

The Andre 3000 Paradox 

In my early days at Osiyo, Cody and Ryker were discussing a dance and one of them said something about “Hey Ya Music.” 

I immediately thought of Matt.  I filed it away but thought…is there some kind of Outkast/Native connection I’m unaware of?

 

”What’s Hey Ya Music?” 

“What?!” Suppressing a laugh

“I heard you and Ryker talking about music and you said ‘Hey Ya Music.’ You aren’t talking about Outkast, right?” 

It’s this moment that I remembered that Matt asked the internet, not CJ.

Cody is now uncontrollably laughing. “It’s the drum circle.” Cody has to sit down. From all the laughing.  We are both crying and carrying on about it in a way that would be all too familiar in the coming months with us.  I thought to ask one last question “Is it cool for me to call it that?” Cody just looked at me stone faced. “Naw.” WE ERUPT IN LAUGHTER. I don’t call it that.

Unceremoniously

My name was given to me on a shoot.  In the middle of the shoot.  Sorta kinda in a hurry because Danielle had to go and we weren’t supposed to be “talking English.” I would have it no other way.  We had been filming with Cherokee Little Seeds. An amazing program where first language speakers spend all day playing with babies and not only teaching them Cherokee but also Cherokee life ways to the Moms. Cherokee Little Seeds has a “zero English” policy with its infant-to-toddler students.  Being guests at this space where the program is conducted meant we should not speak English when around the “babies.”  All of the instructors are first language speakers, meaning they’d learned Cherokee before English, most likely from a parent or grandparent at home (just like I’d learned a version of English growing up in New Jersey).

 

Danielle made us a language cheat sheet leading up to our shoots, and camera department had a pretty solid grunt system down already, so we were good to go.  I hadn’t really thought about the teams attention but someone else had.  Ellen knows me but I imagine what Ellen really knows about me comes from her daughter.  What I know about Danielle is that she’s told her Mom everything about me.  

 

We were on a set move, shifting from filming babies hunting crawdads in the creek to recording them sining and playing with the first language speakers. Danielle pulled me to the side and grabbed me by both hands and told me that her Mom named me.  I did the absolute worst thing a person can do in that situation.  I stopped listening. I think it may be more accurate to say I briefly lost the ability to hear.  I had to ask her to repeat herself.  I was sure I was ruining this for her.  A few minutes later Danielle would have to leave to go take her mom to a doctor’s appointment.  I was left with a gift that I didn’t know what to do with.  But I knew enough to know it was a gift and it made me uncomfortable.  I had something not all Cherokee Citizens had.  What’s worse is that Danielle knew I was uncomfortable about it and did the most Cherokee thing she could do: she used it to make fun of me.  We’d often find ourselves in the company of well-known Cherokee speakers, and Danielle would nudge me and say in a hushed voice, “tell ‘em your name.”  

Whistle While You Work 

Sometimes I would have a difficult time relating my job to my fellow CIS White male friends. I was at a party and I was asked if I had any upcoming trips.  As it happened we were heading to Cherokee, North Carolina to cover the album release for Anvdvnelisgi, the all-Cherokee music album. I mentioned that we were driving and someone was surprised we weren’t flying.  What I knew that he didn’t was that driving to Cherokee is a pilgrimage for many Cherokee people.  They are going home.  The drive to and from is part of a ritual for the modern Cherokee. I was now part of the road trip family. But what I said was “Well Bill, we made them walk it once so I didn’t feel like I could complain about driving it.”  Bill and I are cool, we just stopped talking about work.  Beautiful drive.

 

It had been a long day and the crew was wrapping up after the sun went down. I was feeling pretty good and without much thought I started to whistle a tune.  I hadn’t blown out a few notes before I heard someone come up behind me quick. It was Ryker and he hit me with “What are you doing?”  Confused, I told him I didn’t know what he meant. 

Ryker asked “Were you whistling?”

“Oh! Yes!” I said.

“Don’t do that.” Ryker replied

Still confused, I asked, “Don’t whistle?”

Ryker explained that you shouldn’t whistle at night.

I was a guest in these conversations and spaces. My place wasn’t to question customs or dogma.  I was being shown the World through a different set of eyes…and ears.

“Don’t whistle at night…got it. Can I ask why?” I asked as we walked.

Ryker took a dramatic pause, then said, “because something might whistle back.”

“Good enough for me,” I said.

 

 As any good reader would, I hope you pictured that story in your head.  Where did you set that story?I think most people who heard that would place it in the woods under a full moon, Ryker and I majestically walking through a dense canopy of rustling leaves. Maybe a river nearby would be rushing softly. WRONG. We were on Hollywood BLVD in Los Angeles after a film festival.

 It’s just a little bias and to be fair…we were in the woods a bunch.  I never really thought about whistling as an activity related to the Sun.  Ryker introduced me to a different idea and way of thinking.  He didn’t tell me to scare me, he told me to protect me. Ignoring him never entered my mind.

 

 

“Chanela”

Colby, Danielle and I were talking one night after work about doing a crew tattoo.  Colby didn’t have any ink and Danielle had promised herself to get one on every travel trip.  She would get one on her first trip and not again.  It’s good to have dreams.  

 The problem, of course, was what to get. After a few minutes, Colby and I noticed that Danielle was really intently looking for something on her phone.

Danielle to me: “You know how Sequoyah’s numbering system…Wrong person.” 

Me: “Ouch.”

Danielle: “Shut up.”

Danielle to Colby: “You know how Sequoyah’s numbering system didn’t really catch on like the syllabary?  This is an 8.”  She flipped the phone around and showed us the elegant character that would not too long later be on our bodies.  Colby sat back and took it in…“Damn, that’s an amazing idea…I wish I thought of it.”  

 

The Van knew the way home. 

On the way home from my last shoot with Osiyo the weather was perfect.  It was Spring and the drive back from “The Reservation” was one I’d done a hundred times.  This one was different.  The night was approaching and it was dancing with the Sun making the sky look the way it can only look over Northeast Oklahoma in the Spring.  The windows were down and the cab was filled with the sweet damp air as I drove us away from their home.  Colby rode shotgun and Ryker and Cody were on the bench right behind us.  Ryker asked for the audio cable, Ryker never played DJ. He cued up some music from his grounds. So there we were, a White Guy driving three Natives down HWY 62, blasting “Hey Ya” with the windows down. I’ve never felt more accepted by those men than I did at that moment.  Ryker spent most of the drive telling us about the music or what was happening during the dance as we listened. Eventually the Sun went down and the air coming in from the giant front windows of the van was like the AC on full blast.  I was completely sucked into the moment that I didn’t realize that Ryker was very subtly telling me (at an increasing volume) that he was no longer enjoying the windows down vibe.  I snapped out of it and was informed that he had been letting me know for a minute.  Everyone was laughing at me.  I blamed Ryker for creating such an immersive experience, but truth is my hearing probably isn’t what it used to be.

Wrap it up. 

If you are familiar with the show, Jennifer Loren, famously signs off with “There’s no Cherokee word for “goodbye” so we say “Donadagohv’i” which translates to something like “until we meet again.” Problem is that it’s a mouthful, especially when you are trying to just bounce at the end of a long day and you’re just gonna see your crew eight hours later. So Danielle taught me “sinale.” It’s Cherokee for morning.  Here is the thing about the Cherokee language.  It’s meant to be spoken literally. Cherokee is only used to speak the truth. If I told Danielle “sinale” it meant “I’ll see you in the morning.” This had the convenience of truth for almost all my time at Cherokee Film.  My favorite time using it was the first time I said it to Cody.  We were crossing the street to the office garage, each of us heading towards different ends of the lot. We kept chatting as the space between us grew.

Cody “Alright Man, have a good one.  See you in the morning.”

Me: “Sinale!”

Cody: *Cody stutter stepped I knew he heard it  “Whoa!”

Me: “Shit I said it wrong.”

Cody: “No. It’s been a minute since someone hit me with a ‘sinale.’ My Grandfather would say it.

Me: “Should I not do that?”

Cody: “Naw it’s cool.  Sinale.”

Me: “Wado.”

 Now I say “Kohiya!” 

 White guy available for work.  Plays well with others…mostly. 

 

Post

 

On Saturday, July 20, 2024, the Osiyo: Season 8 team — my team — took home seven of the nine Heartland Emmys for which they were nominated. It was the most Emmy wins in the show’s history.

 

 

 

 

“Our job is storytelling, but life isn’t about telling a story. It’s about being a part of the story, learning about how that experience changes you, and walking through the next open door when it’s time for the next story.” -Danielle Culp

 

 

 

For the wife I don’t deserve and the best dang 8 year old girl I know. Wado.