For as long as I can remember, I have looked up to my parents and elders almost like they were mythological creatures or gods or something equally venerable. They knew how to do things I couldn’t. They understood nature and all of its creation better than my science teachers did. And they were truly loving and nurturing in a way that not even the sappiest, most plastic TV sitcom could portray even if the best writers from around the world were working together. I have always tried to live by their teachings, and even now, as a young adult with my own family and a successful career, I still revere my parents and elders and turn to them often for wisdom and guidance.
So, when my tribal council turned to me for assistance, it was one of the proudest moments of my life. Since my career took off, I’ve had plenty of requests for monetary assistance, which my wives and I have happily obliged. But this time, the request wasn’t for money. It was for something much more important, at least for me. Their request was essentially a show of faith in me and what I can offer as a person. Five months ago, in the spring, we were celebrating the ground breaking of our Native cultural center on the Cherokee reservation in North Carolina. During the feast, my chief invited me to become an ambassador for our tribe and help lead our people into the future. The invitation came with no direction on how I would accomplish such a monumental task, but a few months later, the tribal council gave me my first real mission.
I was asked to meet with Angelique Romano, an art collector in California who is in the possession of a priceless historical Shoshone artifact and unwilling to hand it over to the Shoshone tribe for less than fifty-thousand dollars. And although there are laws that exist to protect such artifacts of indigenous people, the Shoshone are losing the legal battle.
More than a dozen elders between three different Shoshone reservations as well as a handful of lawyers have met with Angelique multiple times over the past year. And they’ve yet to come to a mutually acceptable agreement. If the Shoshone elders and their lawyers haven’t been able to accomplish their goal, why would they think I can? My experience with negotiations is all business related, where my services and talents are being exchanged for money. But they don’t want to pay Angelique’s price tag. They want her to be convinced to repatriate the tunic without the exchange of money. I voiced my concerns of lack of experience in what they’re asking me to do, but my elders just told me to, “Follow your spirit and remember the lessons you’ve learned.” A simply stated answer that’s jam-packed with wisdom that I’ve been struggling to unpack in preparation for this meeting.
Between managing our insanely hectic work schedules and taking care of our four beautiful, growing babies, my wives and I have had next to no time together. Most nights, most of us are lucky if we get three to five hours of sleep. So, finding time to decipher cryptic messages has been next to impossible.
As was trying to schedule this meeting. All of us are working on different projects and our schedules have been so finely tuned that we’ve literally had to schedule when we will eat and shower. Finding time for this meeting was like being just an inch from the top of a Tetris game board and knowing the next piece coming down the screen had only one spot it would fit into and if we didn’t get it there fast enough, it’d be game over.
Luckily, Angelique was understanding and agreed to meet with us on the first date and time we were able to offer. If she hadn’t, it probably would have been another month before we could meet with her.
Angelique Romano has two residences in California, one in Santa Rosa, which is about a seven-hour car ride from our rental house in Los Angeles, and one in San Marino, which is a wealthy suburban area just outside of Pasadena and is only about a thirty-minute drive from us, if traffic isn’t too bad. Luckily for us, she spends most of the year at her San Marino estate. But we’re not meeting Angelique at her residence. We’re meeting her at a high-end restaurant for lunch and drinks, per her request.
I naïvely had hoped she’d invite us to her estate so we would be right there where the tunic is – you know, to make it easier for her after I convince her to let us take it. But the thought was born out of fatigue and was the hope of a desperate person. And desperate people don’t typically accomplish what they want in the way they want it, if at all. I have to remember to be patient and listen. Oh, and follow my spirit and remember the lessons of my elders.
When we pull into the restaurant’s parking lot, instead of feeling like I’m about to sit down for lunch, I feel like I’m about to sit down in front of a rather difficult and mysterious puzzle. I imagine the table will have dials and levers I’ll have to pull, twist, and flip in order to unlock the code of my elders. And only after I can do that will I be able to find the words that will convince Angelique to repatriate the warrior’s tunic to the Shoshone tribe.
As my wives and I walk into the restaurant, the hostess glances up for just a moment before looking down at her seating chart, then her head bolts right back up, with her eyes darting between us with recognition and excitement lighting up her face.
With a beaming smile, she says, “Welcome to The Pines. Table for seven?”
“Thank you, but we’re actually meeting someone. The reservation should be under Romano.”
“Ah, yes, Ms. Romano arrived just a few minutes before you. Please follow me.”
The hostess leads us through the modern restaurant with tables dressed with perfectly pressed white linens, black wooden floors, and a coffered ceiling with honey pine beams framing recessed black squares. As we come around a partition made of floor-to-ceiling vertical pine boards, we come face to face with Angelique Romano sitting at the head of our semi-private table. And the table does not have any of the imagined dials or levers. It’s just a nicely dressed long rectangular table with black leather chairs around it.
“Your server will be right with you to take your drink orders. Enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you.”
The hostess’ smile widens just before she politely bows her head in my direction and turns to leave. When we’re alone, Angelique gracefully stands and strides over in two easy paces with her long, trim, tan legs, and while staring straight into my eyes, she offers her hand to shake.
With an earthy voice that carries a smooth Italian accent, she intones, “Good afternoon, Kayla Johann. It is lovely to meet you in person. And I truly hope we all can still say that at the end of lunch.”
“Agreed.”
I accept her soft, steady hand and a pleasant smile spreads across her burgundy-red painted lips. I make a slight turn, then introduce each of my wives.
After she smiles and nods at each of my wives in acknowledgement of the introductions, she says, “Charmed. Honestly.” She finally releases my hand, then places her own on the back of the leather chair to the right of hers. “Kayla, please sit here next to me.”
I nod once and wait for her to move so I can pull the chair out next to mine, which Sam sits in, while the rest of our wives fill out the remainder of the chairs. Once we’re all seated, she motions to the waiter who was patiently waiting at the entrance of our semi-private seating area.
“Young man, please bring eight glasses and a bottle of the finest chardonnay you have.”
“Right away.”
“Uh, sorry, wait.” As he looks back at me, I notice Angelique’s brow slightly pinches. “Not all of us drink. I’ll just have ice water with an orange slice, please.” I place a hand over Sam’s on the table, and ask, “What would you like?”
“I’ll have the same. Thank you.”
“Not a problem.” He looks around the table, and asks, “Would anyone else like to change their orders?”
Only Jaime, Symone, and Shannon accept the wine, while Madison and Awenasa ask for iced tea.
After he leaves to get the drinks, Angelique looks me in the eyes, and asks, “Doesn’t look like we’re getting off to the right start, are we?”
“It’s just drinks, no worries. Everyone’s customs are different. Most people forget or don’t know that most of us don’t care to drink. And even though some women enjoy the allowance of one glass of wine a day while they’re pregnant, Sam doesn’t like alcohol.”
While tracing the top edge of her leather-bound menu with her burgundy-red painted fingernail, which is a few shades darker than her lipstick, she hums for a moment, then thoughtfully says, “It’s rather rare meeting someone who abstains from alcohol just because they don’t like it. Especially someone your age and of your social standing. There’s usually a medical reason, or a history of addiction. Those who don’t like the taste typically favor its effects, or at least its social gratuities.”
Her eyes slightly narrow on the words social gratuities and I realize that she didn’t mean she was getting off on the wrong foot. I had offended her by not accepting the drink of her choice.
“I’ve never cared for the taste or its effects. And if I can’t be myself in a social situation, it’s not one I’m meant to be in.”
Her mouth curls into a smile as she leans back in her chair. I wait a couple of minutes to see if she’s going to respond, but since she doesn’t, I break the awkward silence.
“Thank you for taking the time to meet with us today. I’m sure you have a million other things you’d like to be doing instead.”
She hums for a moment, then in her earthy voice, she agrees with me. “Yes, there are many things I’d rather be doing than having yet another pointless conversation about my possession of an artifact that I legally own. However, I was intrigued by your sudden involvement in the matter. Tell me, Kayla Johann, why are you here speaking on behalf of the Shoshone, when you are Cherokee?”
“Family goes deeper than blood. The sense of family occurs when you make strong connections with others, whether it’s based on shared ideas and values, common struggles and victories, or simply convenience. And I’m not here to discuss the legality of your ownership of the tunic because, like you said, that would be pointless. There are many laws that do not justly serve all parties. Just because something is legal, doesn’t make it right or fair or preferred or acceptable.”
Angelique’s lips quirk into a momentary hint of a smile, then her eyes shift from me to the waiter as he walks over with a large tray of drinks. After he sets our drinks and glasses in front of us, he presents a bottle of wine to Angelique to approve. She glances at the label and nods once, so he opens and decants it into an oblong glass bottle. He then adds an aerator and pours a glass for Angelique, Symone, Shannon, and Jaime.
“Are you ready to order?”
Angelique quickly answers, “Haven’t even opened the menus yet. Give us at least five minutes, please.”
“Absolutely.”
He swiftly leaves, and as Angelique lifts her glass, her eyes lock with mine. She expertly swirls the pale yellowish-green wine while holding the glass from the center of the stem, places her short, pointed nose above the glass to sample its aroma, then takes a sip, all while continuing to look in my eyes in an unnerving way.
“I’m still unclear on how you came to be involved. Is it because you’re a celebrity? Am I expected to be so starstruck that I just take you out to my car and give you the tunic?” She holds up a hand, and adds, “It is not in my car. I would never be so careless with such a priceless piece.”
“I don’t have a simple or concise answer on why I was asked to speak to you.”
She grins as she lifts her glass to take another sip, then requests, “Humor me with an attempt to answer.”
“Being a celebrity is, unfortunately, part of the reason the Shoshone asked my tribe to request that I get involved.” Angelique’s smile widens. “But I don’t think anyone expects you to be starstruck. I certainly don’t. And honestly, if you were, it would be a very uncomfortable lunch date.” She releases a small laugh that surprises me and helps my stomach muscles to unclench. “I’m recognizable. People I don’t even know at all know very personal details about me. The idea is that you can look at me and know me, whereas you don’t know the Shoshone leaders from a random guy you pass on the street.”
“That’s true. There is a great wealth of information out there about you and your family, even your friends and extended families.” She takes another sip of wine. “I knew you don’t drink. I appreciate you remaining true to yourself instead of trying to appease me. Go on. Why is it better for me to meet with you than some random guy off the street?”
“For one, you should know whether or not I’m being genuine with you, as you just proved.” She nods once. “For another, if you feel like you know me, perhaps I’ll be able to help you understand what the warrior’s tunic means to indigenous people, and particularly the Shoshone tribe.”
Angelique’s eyebrows quirk upwards for a moment. She takes a sip of wine, then flips her hardback menu open. “Let’s decide what we’re eating for lunch. Then you can regale me with the spiritual wonders of the Shoshone warrior’s tunic.”
As I look down at my own menu, I’m reminded of how long it’s been since I’ve been able to come to a nice restaurant like this with my wives and I can’t help wishing Angelique wasn’t at this table. The thought makes me feel a little selfish, but it’s really hard not to feel stingy when I’ve barely seen all of my wives at once like this in three months.
After all of us order, Angelique refills her glass, then offers the decanter to Symone. “Would you like to top off your glass, dear?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Symone accepts the decanter, and after she refills her glass, she tops off Jaime and Shannon’s glasses as well. After Symone sets the decanter down, we all look at Angelique, and she smiles around the rim of her glass while she takes a sip of her wine.
“I don’t believe regale is the correct term. I don’t want to sell you a fantastic story. I want you to grow to respect us as human beings with our own beliefs and history, things we have had to fight very hard to protect and restore for hundreds of years.”
“To rephrase my original request. Please explain to me why the tunic is different from, say… a Rembrandt.”
“Each tribe’s beliefs and customs can vary. And I admittedly don’t know every facet of the Shoshone history and traditions. To answer your question, I’ll have to rely on my own beliefs. All creatures have a spirit and that spirit is actively engaged in everything we do, say, touch, feel, and so forth. If I touch this glass,” I place two fingers on my water glass, “my physical and spiritual form have touched the surface. If I touch another person,” I offer her my hand, and she places her own in mine with an intrigued sort of grin, “my flesh and spirit are touching your flesh and your spirit.”
I place my other hand over hers, holding it loosely clasped between both of mine, and I focus on my energy to channel it out of my palms and into her hand. Her brow twitches as her hand spasms between mine. I give her hand a friendly squeeze, then set it back down on the table.
“Our spirits are an integral part of us. When we touch something, we leave a bit of ourselves behind, whether we intend to or not. But in the case of Native garments and art, we fully intend to embed our spirits within those items. When we create regalia, such as a tunic, it’s a very spiritual process. Every single element selected for the garment, whether it’s fur, feathers, beads, porcupine quills, seashells, animal skulls, wool, leather. Literally every single part of that garment is selected to visually represent the individual’s spirit and their relationship with Mother Earth. And that extends to the patterns and colors used. And while the garment is being made, the spirit of the individual touches every single piece. The individual will often speak prayers and blessings into each piece. They’ll give thanks to the earth and creatures who’s sacrifice helped create the garment. And every time that garment is passed from one person to the next, their spirit also touches it. The memories, hopes, dreams, fears, everything the individual experienced is imprinted within that garment.
“Indigenous people make many pieces of art intended for the public. But something like that warrior’s tunic that’s in your possession was never meant for anyone other than the Shoshone people. The difference between that tunic and a Rembrandt painting is that the tunic is essentially a spiritual terrarium. It holds generations of life within it. It holds stories, pains, victories, and the spirits of our ancestors. It’s alive in a way that the typical painting isn’t. When a person passes, their body decays, but their spirit lives on forever in everything around us. It’s in the breeze, the items they touched in life, and within us, those they left behind. Whether you share our beliefs or not, that is why that tunic is so important to us. It acts as a physical conduit for us to spiritually commune with our history and our ancestors.”
Angelique stares in my eyes for at least a full minute before she lifts her glass to take a few sips of wine. As she sets her glass down, she looks around the table, settling her gaze on each of us individually for at least a full minute apiece. The silence and calculating gazes are unnerving, but I can tell I have struck a nerve in her as well. Something I said got to her.
When she meets my eyes again, she asks, “What would you like to see happen with the tunic, Kayla?”
“I would like you to repatriate the tunic back to the Shoshone people.”
“And you would like me to do so free of charge?”
My back elongates, and before I can think about how to answer her, the words flow out of me with such conviction that it causes a shiver to run down my spine. “We were hoping not to have to pay for the spirits of our ancestors, but if that’s what I have to do to gain their freedom, then I shall.”
Her face slightly blanches as she leans back in her chair, as if trying to put distance between her and something terrifying. She anxiously rubs a hand over the front of her throat, then clears it and sits upright again.
“You certainly are good with words, Kayla. The Shoshone people chose their representative well this time. You have earned my respect and unfurled my own understanding of certain topics. Neither of which are easy tasks, so kudos to you. However, I need more time to think about this. Perhaps by the time we finish lunch, I’ll have an answer for you.”