My daughter recently acquired a Native American Bead Loom (made in Taiwan, which apparently was where the Cherokee settled after walking the Trail of Tears) with the noble intent of making friendship bracelets.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with them, Friendship Bracelets are basically the Native American equivalent of a Myspace Friend Request. 

In fact it was customary for braves to exchange beaded trinkets on the prairie to signify that Runs with a Limp, Eats Two Desserts, and Writes Potentially Insensitive Native American Names would all remain BFFs long after the buffalo hunt was over.  And while I’m certain the tribal elders of old would be pleased to know that the tradition of friendship bracelets continues to this day, I’m not so sure how happy they’d be to find out their honorary custom has been co-opted by eight year old girls.

Assistance in craft detail normally falls in my wife’s domain since these activities require a certain amount of patience, and I'm about as patient as a gorilla chugging six shots of espresso while receiving a prostate exam.  My extreme lack of patience first became prevalent during an event that will forever be known as the MiniBlind Incident.  I have blocked most of the MiniBlind Incident from memory, but do remember filling in about five drill sized holes (I don't mean the drillbit... I mean the actual shaft of the drill) around the front window of our house, and no new miniblinds have entered our house since that date.  

Regarding the loom, my wife did take the first shot at understanding our daughter’s new bead contraption, but due to the rather sketchy instruction booklet and the impatient daughter in dire need of a trinket to give to her friend on the bus the following day, the task of unraveling the complexities of the Bead Loom fell on my shoulders.

After my first twenty minutes of working with the loom, I fully understood why alcoholism is a rampant problem on reservations.  I hadn’t even managed to get the requisite number of strings spaced out on the loom before I began craving the effects of alcohol to cloud my mind of this menial, frustrating task.  But with my daughter watching close by, I managed to stave off my cravings and finally begin the task of sewing beads onto the loom.  Sure the first few rows were frustrating, and I may have snuck a few swear words under my breath as a result of trying to feed those tiny beads onto the thread (while minimizing the number of times I jabbed the needle into the pad of my thumb), but I finally got the hang of it.

Three hours later, I finally had a beaded trinket worthy of the friendship between two third grade girls.  I can’t say that the beading incident has made me a more patient person, but it has given me some perspective on the Native American culture and the importance of the intricate details that go into something as simple as a friendship bracelet.  It’s even given me new insights into important historical events.  I used to think that whole Manhattan Island being purchased for 20 some odd dollars of beads was a rip off, but after three hours on the bead loom?  Totally worth it, man.

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aA - There's a REASON... IP:66.xxx.xxx.xxx | 2008-02-26 07:33:11 ...that they say "trouble is looming on the horizon"... my palms started to sweat when i saw the photo of the contraption. Reply 0   0

deb'm - i hated those things IP:66.xxx.xxx.xxx | 2008-08-14 08:16:02 i never understood them. what was the point? i figure, if i haven't whipped you mercilessly about your noggin, you're my friend, and that should be good enough for you. Reply 0   0

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