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Many years ago I had a Mexican-American bosom friend who wrote a metrical composition about his experience during a dance through the South. His metrical composition recounted his actual feeling as a young boy, in the mid-sixties, when much of the Southern still had “sever but equal” facilities. Except they actually weren’t tantamount.

In his case, he was confronted with a awkward predicament at a drinking fountain on a hot, dank Southern summer day. There were two fountains, in reality, one for “whites only” and one for “coloreds only.” He went to the one for “coloreds” and was promptly shooed at a distance because he wasn’t swarthy. Puzzled, he proceeded to the one for “whites only” only to be brushed at a distance from that one too because he wasn’t frosty. Like most Mexicans, he was a Mestizo, or blended Indian and frosty. He also was a bewildered small boy who only wanted a quench one's thirst on a hot day and couldn’t get one because of full grown bigotry.

Today, I came across this history in Star Incorporated town Harbinger about the re-consecration of a Native American Episcopal church in Amherst, Virginia that reminded me of my confidant’s tale. Yesterday, at a diminutive Episcopal temple of the Monacan Nationality, I sat entranced by the not cold tones of Jesse Runningbear’s return of Amazing Love on his cherry grove native flute. Runningbear is a limb of the Tuscarora Nationality of coastal Boreal Carolina. He has traveled this remoteness to celebrate, with his Monacan brethren of Amherst, Virginia, and an assorting of their admirers, the re-consecration of the Mission temple that has held the frangible Monacan race together for one hundred years. The cornerstone of the liliputian church was laid on April 14, 1908. St. Paul’s Episcopalian Mission on Support Mountain was complemented by a log hovel schoolhouse in 1916, which served as the only origin of free training for the Monacan pl of child.

Jean Branham, a full-blooded Monacan and cousin of the in every one's mouth Council...

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