We were good kids held captive under the wax of our mistake. We can't keep passing on the failing family business. We need to remodel it, advertise it differently, or order new products, because we are not out of business yet. There are 'help wanted' signs posted all around the reservation, but the windows they hang behind are so dirty that they have gone unnoticed. Neuee never called our parents, never informed Landmark Volunteers, and never canceled the Thank You Luncheon because that wasn't the solution.
Makah culture is still good, but someone has got to retrieve it.
There was nothing noble about us smoking a joint, but through our deviance, we inspired resolution. The pungent smell of pot was like smelling salts awakening the town to its problems. We can't allow drug dealers to be the politicians of our streets and the babysitters of our playgrounds. The next morning the sheriff sent the pot dealer to jail and his own son into juvenile hall. Our mistake fanned the flame burning Makah culture, but our smoke signals sent for help.