Broccoli from our garden. The community garden. Broccoli from our community garden that is dutifuly watched over by an old Indian Chief, named Lloyd, who sits in his folding chair in the northeast corner of the plot. Without fail he always happens to slip this in to our conversation with a wink and almost toothless grin when I see him:
C: I was telling my friends from the rez about my garden the other day.
S: Oh, yeah, what did you say?
C: I told them some nice white people gave me some of my land back.
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