November 2006

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Gather Ye Etiquette While Ye May

November 3, 2006 in AmeriCorps, Uncategorized by d-roll | 2 comments

You may be surprised to learn that the surrounding neighborhood currently lacks a Starbucks. But that’s okay. There’s a podunk little cafe not too far away; it’s technically “out of the neighborhood,” but certainly within walking distance. Sure, it was just robbed last week, but I had a strong feeling that today would be crime-free.

At least that’s what I kept telling myself during the 35 minutes it took for the (only) employee to make my veggie wrap.

This week’s “Fun Friday” jaunt took us to said shop. It’s a tiny building, with just the one couch, an overstuffed chair, and a few small tables and chairs. I happened to be in the area with a fellow AmeriCorpsite following our sub-group’s meeting, so we decided to hang out there and wait for everyone despite being an hour early.

The event was supposed to be a poetry slam, giving some of our very talented and stereotypically angsty teenagers a chance to show their mad skillz. As of Thursday night, no one had written a poem yet, so Co-Workerette vowed to turn it into an etiquette lesson if no one had material. So there we sat, waiting for the would-be Robert Herricks or, uh, Martha Stewarts to show up.

Before the brood arrived, a group of cops were hanging out over at the tables. I guess donuts aren’t chic enough these days. One of them kept looking over at us, and decided to break the ice by making fun of my hat. It must have been the first time he’d ever seen someone wear a knit ski cap when it was 30 degrees outside. I know, so weird.

Finally, he came over and introduced himself and asked what we were doing “around here.” Shocking, I tell you, to think that two people not of African American decent would be conspicuous in this part of DC. He was young, probably not more than five years older than me. But his eyes betrayed a few lifetimes of experience. I told him where I worked, and he replied with a mixture of surprise, horror and admiration. Turns out he grew up in Southeast and knows exactly what DC teenagers act like. “I had extensive experience being one.”

And now he’s a cop. Hmm.

We continued to converse about the best methods of reaching such teens and turning lives around. His advice was not to proceed in the direction our program was. “All these kids think they can do is be rappers or professional athletes. They need to see other things.”

I didn’t disagree, but how else are you going to get them in the door? You can’t have your proverbial sticks without any carrots. Or, I suppose, in this case, chicken wings. I doubt any of the kids who go through our program are going to become the next… wow, I can’t even think of the name of a prominent R&B producer. I am so lame. Point is, even if there aren’t any “Michael Jordans,” they can still learn something along the way. Self-confidence, respect, professional skills… you know, things that working the afternoon shift at KFC Popeye’s won’t teach. Because that’s where they could be instead of our program. He had a lot of nice things to say, and I enjoyed hearing his intimate perspective.

But time was up — the cops bounced, and in walked Co-Worker, Co-Workerette, and…. six teenage boys. Ha.

I figured the poetry slam would be a hard sell, but I didn’t think it would be the guys showing up. I was glad to see three of our “regulars” were in the group — ones I was able to interact with during the week:

Popeye, a goofy-looking (I say this with all amount of tact — it adds to his charm) mainstay who is probably about 15, and is hardly ever seen without a six piece of the aforementioned Popeye’s chicken wings. Fooler, a towering 17-year-old who upon first glance looks like a Grade A Thug. But… not so much: the other day we were talking about our favorite Harry Potter books (he prefers Goblet of Fire over my Prisoner of Azkaban in case anyone’s tracking these things). Lemming is his 13-year-old brother who follows Darth around like a Sith Apprentice. I wish he’d pay more attention to his brother.

Each boy was armed with a Co-Workerette-written checklist of behaviors for ordering food, such as tips on politeness and methods for figuring out tax and tip if need be. They were given a set dollar amount and had to figure out their totals before ordering to be sure they had enough. I guess there’s an epidemic of teenagers being short money while in line at McDonalds in these parts.

Anyway, after everyone successfully ordered dinner (most opted to stick with safe things such as… cookies) they took turns reading from poems they printed off the Internet. Not quite the same as producing their own stuff, but it was nice to see them actually get in front of people and read. They asked if I had any memorized poems to share, but I feigned bad memory, suddenly shy under the unexpected glare of attention. But maybe next time, having been around them for a while, I’ll feel brave enough to give them my best poetic advice:

When old age shall this generation waste
Thou shalt remain, in the midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st
‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty — that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’

Next time.

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This Is Surely What The Founders Envisioned

November 7, 2006 in AmeriCorps, Uncategorized by d-roll | No comments

My first election day in the ballot capital of the world!

Exciting, right?

Yes, it was an exhilarating morning handing out sample democratic ballots at an Arlington County polling spot. I made downright genteel conversation with my stuffy republican counterpart. I also gave out 3x as many papers as she did. I felt good. The Arlingtonians were coming out in droves, despite the 45 minute wait to vote. So pumped! Yeah! Democracy in ACTION!

Then I went to work.

What would these young, bright minds have to say about this important day? I wasted no time in asking. Here are some of the responses.

“Election day?”

“I ain’t know who votes.”

“Why vote?”

“They picking a new president or somethin’?”

“Don’t care.”

“The white man don’t care about nobody here.”

“Them dogs.”

Well then.

It’s hard not to blame them for feeling that way, but it’s also downright depressing knowing the vicious circle will continue. How do you explain to someone in that situation that they have the power to change things? It’s hard to be an idealist in the big cruel world.

Later, that night, watching the Democrats rack up wasn’t as sweet as it should have been.

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The One Where D-Roll’s Dimples Met Dimples’ Dimples

November 9, 2006 in AmeriCorps, Uncategorized by d-roll | No comments

Getting teenagers to do anything is hard.

Getting teenagers to do anything academic is harder. Especially when not doing it will have no apparent consequence whatsoever.

So color me a teensy bit suspicious when one of them appeared eager to endure the horrors of extra-curricular academia.

Enter a young man, henceforth known as “Dimples.” Now I know what people feel like when they meet me. Those things are just… hard to miss.

I was wondering why I haven’t seen him around these parts before. I probably have, but we’ve had a swell of newbies recently and he must’ve gotten mixed in with the crowd. Or maybe I was just busy getting heckled about the Bengals by Michael Vick.

Anyway.

He didn’t have homework, and for some ungodly reason, agreed to do the reading enrichment program on the computer. It’s differentiated instruction; in non-teacher speak, that basically means everyone gets the same “lesson,” but it is presented to students via a level of difficulty based on reading ability. Unfortunately, whichever staffer got Dimples started on the program didn’t take him on a test drive. The kid is almost 15 years old, a 9th grader — around these parts, the average reading level for that age is probably about a 7th grade level. “Moderately” below level.

He reads worse than most of the second graders I tested during the World Assessment Tour 06.

So I printed out a copy of the article to make things easier, and we painstakingly labored through the first three paragraphs together. And when I say “together,” I mean that he covered words like “and,” “a,” and “the.” I tackled such upper-level words as “there.”

All sarcasm aside, this is very troubling. On the words he doesn’t know, he sees the first letter and then guesses the rest of the word by filling in some completely unrelated word stored in his memory from experience. For example, “Dolphin” transforms into “desert,” despite the fact that there are clearly no “e,” “s,” “r,” or “t” sounds. He won’t “sound out” any word phonetically. Not to mention he doesn’t connect words to the context of the article — it talked about oceans and animals, not sun and sand.

“[Dimples],” I said, “Sound out the word. Break it up into the sounds. You don’t have to guess. It’s all right there.”

“Okay.”

I pointed at the paper. “What sound does it start with?”

“Duh.”

“Okay, now put it with the next sound.”

“Duh-ol.”

“Keep going.”

“Duh-ol-p…”

“Dolphin,” I finally finished for him. He repeated it and then went on. But he immediately forgot our phonics lesson, as his vocabulary retreated back into a guessing game.

I’ve never worked with someone who reads this badly. I think that’s why I picked secondary education. I’d rather be honing their critical thinking skills than their basic reading skills. That, and little kids don’t understand sarcasm.

But the rules and circumstances are very different here. Maybe Co-Workerette doesn’t understand that, because she walked in the room and joked at his reading level being set so low and wondered why I was sitting with him during what is supposed to be an independent, work-at-your-own-pace program. I gave her an incredulous look and mumbled that we might have to adjust the level for him.

What I’m still unsure of, though, is his eagerness to do this in the first place. We bribe kids to do homework. I mean, this is DC. Why not have a capitalistic form of goods and services. Every time they do and get it checked by one of us, they receive a point. Points add up and transform into prizes, blah blah blah. If kids don’t have homework, they can do this enrichment program or some other type of academic work for points.

But I’m not even sure he knew of the incentives. Someone who reads this badly absolutely cannot enjoy it, otherwise he’d be much improved already. So I’m sure he just wanted the attention from an adult. I asked him a few questions, trying to satisfy a bit of my curiosity. I gambled with the family/school/friends questions, knowing he may get offended. His responses were predictably mum. But he’d sought ME out. So I’m not particularly worried about scaring him off by making our “learn to read” sessions include my taking an interest in his life.

Towards the end of our session, I glanced down at the floor and saw something above his sock where his jeans had crept up.

It was one of those probation-house arrest-anklet-tracker things.

That was certainly unexpected.

He caught my eye as I looked back up… and smiled. A charming, full-dimpled, knowing grin.

They all have stories, it’s getting to them that’s the problem.

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Bowling for Ghettobine

November 10, 2006 in AmeriCorps, Uncategorized by d-roll | No comments

Schools were off for Veterans Day, so our field trip was in the middle of the day to a bowling alley in PG County. So about 15 kids, both Co-Workers, Part Time Guy and I hopped a bus to Maryland (Unfortunately for Co-Workerette, she also got left behind in Maryland. City buses don’t wait for you to get back from the restroom).

This was my first time going “way off site” with the group, and I was a bit wary because this is also Darth’s first trip out after his “forced vacation.” After his Oscar Award-winning performance in Display of Gross Homophobia, Co-Worker said that Darth needed to 1) schedule a conference with the staff, 2) attend said conference and discuss his behavior, then decide on a contract he’d need to sign and follow if he wanted to stay here, and 3) follow it accordingly.

It took him a while, but eventually, all of this happened. The basic outcome of the conference was our claim that we didn’t expect him to “change into an angel overnight,” but there were some things he needed to work on, such as language, respect, blah blah blah. He agreed, signed it, and now we’re just waiting to see #3 in action.

What better place for him to showcase his newly-declared fidelity to maturity than a bowling alley?

I’m sure the resulting images are easy to conjure. Should anyone need help, though, picture bowling balls skipping horizontally across lanes, multiple balls advancing on the pins at the same time, and chicken fingers being left in other students’ shoes.

Despite the fact it was a predictably atrocious outing for Darth and the few 13-year-old minions who think he’s cool, everyone else seemed to have a good time. Dimples, who was introduced to photography class the night before, grabbed the camera and documented the event. A lot of kids will try a class once, or just go to it because it’s something to do. But I think he’s really taken an interest in photography, so I’m pretty happy about it. But we’ll see if he turns up next week.

The group of girls at my lane — Cupcake and Red included — were quite amusing. Suffice to say I’ve never seen such stylish form. The “bumpers” were put up after it was apparent that these kids don’t regularly watch the PBA Tour on ESPN2.

I also had a good time getting to know one of the high school graduates (who drop by the Center now and then for music classes or the occasional field trip). This kid’s 19 and has the most awesome fro this side of Darnell Hillman. Fro is just very cool, and has a vocabulary that would make any GRE study book proud. We had probably the most intelligent conversation about Chipotle in the history of spoken word. Anyway, the moral of this paragraph is, the “older teens” who drop by periodically act like they are. They carry themselves like young adults. Darth is 17 and wonders why we’re always on his case about being a total detriment to this place society.

He can either be treated like the 13-year-olds just entering the program — the ones who need constant supervision and structured rules. Or he can be treated like our high school graduates — mature, responsible adults who come back for a bit of fun or instruction now and again. He doesn’t understand that he can’t act like a little kid and then get the perks of being 17.

I want to believe he can be changed. But, hey — let’s end with a timely and lame bowling metaphor. If someone keeps rolling gutterballs, you put up the bumpers. But if we’re Darth’s bumper, how many errant rolls does it take him to break down the barrier and lose the game?

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Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Select, Start

November 12, 2006 in AmeriCorps, Uncategorized by d-roll | No comments

Or something like that.

Those were the super secret controller codes for Contra. I think of that game whenever anyone mentions Original Nintendo.

Another game I remember playing a lot is Mike Tyson’s Punchout. And I think if urban youth were transported to 1988, it would be their favorite game, too.

All of this is by way of introducing my newest friend…… Tyson.

Not that he’d ever bite off anyone’s ear (though honestly, not a lot surprises me here anymore), but it is a pretty appropriate name for this 16-year-old boy with a husky physique and a gap-tooth smile I’ve taken a liking to. Probably not a major coincidence that he also has quite the affinity for fighting.

This fighting thing. It’s just all new and strange for me. Tyson has been coming around a lot the last few days, and I helped him with a bit of social studies homework and some rather exciting (for me, sadly) worksheets on prepositional phrases. He is a lot easier to interact with than anyone else I’ve met thus far, especially right away. He’s funny and is able to tease and be teased in return. Basically, we’re chummy. He also seems pretty smart and at least responsible enough to do his homework.

So, naturally, I absolutely cannot grasp this, for lack of a better word, hobby of his. Fighting. Once again, my Suburbia Stereotypeomatic is spewing out smoke and making ominous noises. I feel like a complete moron for being so utterly stupefied by this.

In my experience, someone who fought a lot at school looked like he belonged in in-school suspension every day. Someone with telltale outcast characteristics, or the usual bullying behavior. Never was someone bright, funny, popular, whatever, mixing it up in the hallways between classes and getting suspended all the time.

Tyson casually informed me that he’s been suspended this year a couple times already for fighting at school, including a couple weeks ago. He just shrugs and says it’s nothing, as if a teacher had simply written his name on the board for talking out of turn. So in my quest for understanding, I tried asking him and another regular more about it.

“So, people fight a lot at your school.”

“E’ry day. Someone’s always fightin.”

“And teachers don’t care?”

“No. They just walk right by. But sometimes the teachers get jumped, too.”

Uh… okay. Speaking of stereotyping, I’m trying not to use Hollywood as a basis for anything remotely truthful, but at the same time, I know the inner city isn’t Milford Junior High.

“Teachers get jumped? How? Why?”

“This one was calling this girl a bitch. So they got into it later.”

Now that I think about it, from what I’ve heard about that school in particular, I guess I’m not surprised. But the teacher thing? Geeze. And that wasn’t all. Lemming came in the other night with his arm slashed and bleeding from some fight out in the neighborhood. Apparently just another day for him. But why?

I’m guessing the willingness to fight is like currency in the inner city. It’s an obsession necessary for survival among the youngest kids up to adults. Last week when we came back from bowling, the bus slowed to a crawl as it passed a school letting out for the day because kids were everywhere — the grass, the sidewalk, the street — all running in the same direction. A few students were involved in some pretty hefty punching and clawing further up the way. So these other kids running had no regard for getting squashed by a city bus just so they could get to the fight in time to see… what? Some new moves to put in their arsenal? A display of power and dominance? A chance to show loyalty to either party? Whatever the case, they were literally running in front of the bus without turning to look at it. I mean like, inches away. I’ve never seen anything like it. I know kids run to the shouts of “FIIIIIIIGHT!” in any school, any situation, but it seems amplified beyond my comprehension here.

And so, getting suspended for fighting is as about as commonplace as Soul Glo in the 80s. Kids get mocked by others for running away from fights. The other day Darth came in here laughing, “[Popeye] just ran. He was gonna get beat so bad.” Co-Workerette said “Good for him. He doesn’t have to fight.” She got a bunch of you triflin’ faces in response.

Girls, I’ve found, are even worse. There’s one trio of 8th graders who drop by sometimes, and they’re usually not here for more than twenty minutes before running out to witness and/or provoke the next fight. They come in, chatter amongst themselves to pick a target, and then leave. Whether it’s just for personal gratification and being able to know they can handle themselves in the neighborhood, or the aforementioned “currency” so that people won’t mess with them… I have no idea. But it’s completely Jerry Springer to me.

There’s no doubt that in all cultures, everywhere, people fight. It’s just not as straight up as it is here. People will always find ways to put down others to show their dominance. Whether through money, professional clout, whatever. But I don’t know how I’m supposed to help people make the right decisions here when I can’t understand motivations. Guess I’ll have plenty of time to figure it out.

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There Are Two Sides to Every Set of Dimples

November 13, 2006 in AmeriCorps, Uncategorized by d-roll | No comments

I used to complain about never having a dog.

“They’re too much work,” my mom said, “and you’re never around. You have to feed them and walk them and make sure they poop outside. They need constant attention and constant love and can’t take care of themselves. You couldn’t even take care of your hamster.”

On that last point, I would have to agree. But who has grown up without ever having a dog?

No matter, because I have one now. In the form of a 5 foot 10 inch, 14 and-a-half-year-old boy from the hood.

Indeed, the complete lack of excitement of computerized reading enrichment has not deterred Dimples’ exuberance for it, nor has it allowed me to escape to other areas of need. Of course I’m not going to discourage him, I’m just amused that he thinks this is the only way I’ll hang around him. So just about every day, he arrives earlier than most, pets my hair (kids here seem to be fascinated with straight and shiny things) and asks if I wanted to go “do that thing on the computer.”

And so this day, as others, we continued our now-typical routine of printing out two copies of the article and then struggling through it together. As has been the case in every session thus far, he could not grasp the concept of phonics, nor did he understand that everything he needs to know about a word is right there on the page. It’s as frustrating as it is depressing.

(After explaining, once again, the idea of sounding out chunks of the word and not ‘guessing’)

“So, you understand now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you just saying that so I’ll quit asking?”

“Yes?”

No wonder he’s in ninth grade and probably can’t read the average street sign.

Soon, though, the designated “homework time” ended, and everyone in the Center had to either join one of the classes or roll on home. My class this night was advanced photography. Technically, Dimples shouldn’t be in it; he didn’t take the beginners class over the summer or in previous years. But since he showed some interest and knows the rules for operating the digital camera, we let him stick around for it.

So, you probably know how it went. He can’t read the word “canal,” even after hearing me say it 27 times in five minutes. That must mean he’s completely worthless. A detriment of society simply there to get in the way of the people who can do real work — and, you know, read street signs. Right?

Hold the sarcasm.

Dimples walked right in the studio and basically took over for Co-Worker, who was running a photo shoot for an older youth putting out an album. What was supposed to be a few snaps as a learning experience turned into watching someone completely in his element. His shots were so good, so professional, so completely abnormal for a kid — let alone someone who had only picked up a camera for the first time last week — that he and I spent the latter half of the evening going over design principles on Photoshop so that he can prep one for entry in next week’s exhibit in Southeast. He’s excited, engaged, and maybe for the first time in his life, succeeding at something.

Once in a while, I’m reminded of why I’m doing this.

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I’m Thankful For All Yalls

November 18, 2006 in AmeriCorps, Uncategorized by d-roll | No comments

Dimples, it seems, is multi-talented.

I arrived to our Center’s Thanksgiving Potluck a little later than usual because of a meeting. When I got there, Dimples scowled at my store-bought potato salad and dragged me into the kitchen.

He pointed at a large pot of corn on the stove, a few tupperware containers of candied yams, two varieties of macaroni salad, and some kind of quasi-bbq chicken.

“Nice,” I observed.

“I made it all.”

So, he can’t read, is on some hefty probation for doing who knows what, can take amazing pictures, and likes to cook. A veritable enigma, our Dimples.

Michael Vick’s older sister, who shares the same name as me and is — quite frankly — very cool, said she would be bringing a bunch of the other 8 “Vick” siblings. But, D-Roll 2.0, as I’ve come to think of her in my head, must not have been very persuasive. She and her brother could not be more polar opposites; she’s responsible, courteous, and easy to talk to. I was disappointed that she apparently couldn’t convince anyone else to join us.

I was also sad to see that Cupcake didn’t provide any cupcakes, but at least she was there.

All week we’d invited parents, grandparents, siblings, guardians, friends, or whoever our students happened to hang out with. Some of the staff had even called to remind said individuals that they were invited. Predictably, the sum of our non-youth crowd was this: someone’s aunt showed up about halfway through dinner, and someone else’s mom came after most of us had finished. It was disappointing because I really wanted a chance to interact with some of them, hear their stories, and tell them how much I was glad their son/daughter/niece/foster child/whatever came to our program.

But that’s one of the expected/accepted troubles of working in this kind of place.

They’re either not interested, embarrassed of their living situations, working one of their three jobs, have a pile of kids to take care of, or are just intimidated by people unlike themselves. But, we managed to have a nice time with the kids anyway.

Before dinner, we did a traditional going around the room and having everyone say what they were thankful for.

There was a smattering of “family,” “friends,” “North Face coats,” etc. Some of them just shrugged and were skipped over. It got around to Darth, and I braced myself for something inappropriate. But instead he looked down, suddenly uncharacteristically shy — a touch embarrassed, maybe.

“I’m thankful for all yalls.”

It was a rare moment of honesty for him. I think he’s thankful this place is here and that people have actually shown they care about him. Upstairs won’t even let him in the door. Yeah, he’s been a huge problem. And he’s got such bad influence over younger kids. And he’s purposefully antagonistic. And… yes, I could go on for another 20 or 30 lines.

Clearly, I am a masochist. Or two months in here hasn’t altered my delusions; I want so badly to make him a success. I’m not in charge, so I can’t kick him out. He’s going to be here. So as long as he is, I’m not going to give up.

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If You Build It, They Will… Still Go Elsewhere

November 22, 2006 in AmeriCorps, Uncategorized by d-roll | No comments

Maybe it only works in Iowa.

Or maybe Kevin Costner has special powers. I don’t see how, though, because this is the same guy who was called “Dumb Bear” by the Sioux.

Whatever.

We’ve found that following the advice of an Iowa cornfield doesn’t quite work in the Hood.

A little background: As I’ve said (I think, at some point), this is the first year the Center has been exclusively a teen program. Before this corporation bought out the property and instituted educational programs, the group Upstairs had a thing going. I’ve never really gone into detail about them, but, basically they’re another nonprofit in a different section of the complex that runs after school programming as well. For about ten years (they were here a few years before that), the two have co-existed, and one might even say, competed. But our group came in focusing on being an academic learning and enrichment center, while they were more of a drop-in, at least for teenagers.

Over the years, I guess, a thing has kind of evolved into Upstairs being the place for little kids doing sports, cheerleading, tutoring, that kind of stuff. And since we have all the cool technological hooks like the music studio, photography, etc, we naturally drew more older kids. But up til last year, our Center was taking in kids of all ages for programs and classes. As was Upstairs.

It was decided starting this year that Upstairs would focus completely on the athletics programs for younger kids, and other activities and groups for that age group; while we would undertake the older crowd and advertise exclusively as “13 and up.”

Perfect in theory — it’s what two formerly competing programs do to make life better for youth of all ages in the neighborhood. But it’s far from perfect in practice. First of all, it’s difficult to get the word out that a teens-only area exists. A lot of older teens out there think 10 year olds still run around in this place. The other, more difficult problem lies with Upstairs and their refusal to send “our demographic” down.

If anyone 12 or younger shows up at our door, we invite them to check out Upstairs’ goings-on and roll on back here when they turn 13. The same isn’t done for us. They allow teens to continue to use their area as a drop-in.

I understand their reasoning a little bit. There are some kids who have “grown up” with Upstairs and know the staff, the facility, and just feel at home there. So it just seems wrong to send them away. But when you let some stay, you have to let everyone stay. And when everyone can stay, you can never start building what you set out to. And everyone decided this way would be best. So it’s frustrating. We still get a good number of teens, some from years past and some new. But nothing like we would if things ran like they should. This palpable divide exists, and those who remain Upstairs don’t want to associate with the ones down here. There’s already enough divisiveness among that age group — at school, in the neighborhoods, society in general — we shouldn’t have to worry about it at our own complex. And until that can be fixed, this place will never become what it should.

Speaking of neighborhood divides, we also can’t get many people from outside the boundaries. I bet there are a lot of kids who would love to check out our stuff, but literally fear for their lives if they come into this neighborhood. The rivalries are what you’d expect in this setting. “They don’t like us and we don’t like them.” If one of ours wanders into that area, well, bad stuff would happen. Never can it be a situation where we all just get along. Much too Mr. Rogers. Not that anyone here knows who that is.

It’s hard enough to have a job like this, but when the people running things seem to be working against themselves, it just makes it that much unnecessarily harder. And on that note, let me add that we finally got a replacement for the program director. Problem? He’s never around. They put his office in the next building, and he rarely shows up for programming. He’s also my supervisor. I fail to see how this is helping any matter of …. anything. Then again, if Costner can go from “Dumb Bear” to marrying into the tribe, maybe we can figure things out.

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