Ft. Berthold, Pine Ridge, Yankton, Sisseton, Crow

Growing up on several Indian reservations on the Great Plains was all I knew. For 4 years it was 32 miles for milk and bread one-way. Bread and gravy were common for supper. Dad traded deer we shot for commodity cheese. There weren't game laws on the reservations so it was shoot what you can, when you can. No one in history has shot more sharp-tail grouse than I. All winter, .22's from the Russian olive trees in brutal weather, always shoot the bottom ones first so when they fell they wouldn't scare the birds higher up. All shooting done out of the '57 Ford pickup. 

Life was good and it was going to get a hell of a lot better. 

I know now I chose great parents.