Green Grass, Running Water Quotes

So.

In the beginning, there was nothing. Just the water.

Coyote was there, but Coyote was asleep. That Coyote was asleep and that Coyote was dreaming. When that Coyote dreams, anything can happen.

I can tell you that.

“In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep—”

“Wait a minute,” said Robinson Crusoe.

“Yes?”

“That’s the wrong story,” said Ishmael. “That story comes later.”

“But it’s my turn,” said the Lone Ranger.

“But you have to get it right,” said Hawkeye.

“And,” said Robinson Crusoe, “you can’t tell it all by yourself.”

Lionel had made only three mistakes in his entire life, the kinds of mistakes that seem small enough at the time, but somehow get out of hand. The kinds that stay with you for a long time. And he could name each one.

“You used to sell televisions and stereos at Bursum’s, too.”

“Yeah, and there’s the difference. I used to sell that crap. But I don’t anymore. I got out and made something of myself. Lionel’s never going to get out. Hell, another couple of years and he’ll be back on the reserve running for council. Besides, you know how I feel about you.”

“It’s one of the reasons I’m going to Blossom.”

Sergeant Cereno leaned back in the chair and slowly swung it from side to side. “All right, Ms. Jones. These four Indians . . . what did they look like?”

“Like I said. They were Indians. Old ones.”

“How old would you say?”

“I don’t know . . . four, five hundred years . . .”

What a stingy person, says First Woman, and that one packs her bags. Lots of nice places to live, she says to Ahdamn. No point in having a grouchy GOD for a neighbor.

And First Woman and Ahdamn leave the garden.

All the animals leave the garden.

Maybe I’ll leave a little later, says Old Coyote.

You can’t leave my garden, that GOD says to First Woman. You can’t leave because I’m kicking you out.”

In the morning, before the sun was up, Alberta went outside. The blanket was folded and waiting on the wood table. The pickup was sitting in a small lake where the outhouse used to be, the water above the wheels and the doors. The air was clear, and Alberta could see all the way to the mountains and across the prairies until the land outran itself.

The food at the Dead Dog was good, but what drew tourists to the cafe was the ambience and the reputation that it had developed over the years. Latisha would like to have been able to take all the credit for transforming the Dead Dog from a nice local establishment with a loyal but small clientele to a nice local establishment with a loyal but small clientele and a tourist trap. But, in fact, it had been her auntie’s idea.

“Tell them it’s dog meat,” Norma had said. “Tourists like that kind of stuff.”

Bursum doubted that even Lionel understood the unifying metaphor or the cultural impact The Map would have on customers, but that was all right. Lionel, at least, would be able to appreciate the superficial aesthetics and the larger visual nuances of The Map.

The Map. Bursum loved the sound of it. There was a majesty to the name. He stepped back from the screens and looked at his creation. It was stupendous. It was more powerful than he had thought. It was like having the universe there on the wall, being able to see everything, being in control. Yes, Lionel might just appreciate it.

And then again, he might not.

Eli had never seen someone so angry. It was hot in the car and the man was sweating, but it wasn’t from the heat. Eli could see the muscles on the man’s neck, could hear the violent, exaggerated motions with which he unloaded the camera and passed the film through the window to Orville.

The sky! shouts the little man. Hallelujah! A gift from heaven. My name’s Noah, and you must be my new wife.

I doubt that, says Changing Woman.

They had lived together for two years before Eli met Karen’s parents. Karen assured him that her mother and father would love him as much as she did, and Eli was sure that she was wrong.

“Mom and Herb are going to the cottage we have in the Laurentians. You’ll love it.”

Eli knew he was not going to love it, but he smiled and pretended that he was looking forward to the trip.

The cottage was not a cottage at all. It was a four-bedroom house set on a lake.

“Nice jacket,” Billy had told him.

“Damn right it is,” said George.

“Thought you just liked new things,” said Latisha, wiping down a table.

“It’s history,” said George, rolling his shoulders in the jacket. “Most old things are worthless. This is history.” […]

That night when Latisha got home, George was sitting in front of the television with Christian curled up on his lap. He still had on the jacket. Latisha hadn’t even seen it coming. George turned the television off, got out of the chair as if he was getting up to get a cup of coffee, grabbed Latisha by her dress, and slammed her against the wall. And before she realized what was happening, he was hitting her as hard as he could, beating her until she fell.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” he kept shouting, timing the words to the blows.

So that Thought Woman takes off her nice clothes, and that one gets into the River.

Whoa! says Thought Woman. That is one cold River. This must be a tricky River.

Swim to the middle, says that tricky River. It is much warmer there.

So Thought Woman swims to the middle of that River and it is warmer there.

This is better, says Thought Woman, and she lies back on the River and floats with the current. Thought Woman floats on that River, and that one goes to sleep.

I am very sleepy, says Thought Woman, and then she goes to sleep.

Hee-hee, says that River. Hee-hee.

The older guy and the skinny kid made Amos take everything out of the truck. They unwrapped the dance outfits and laid them on the asphalt.

“Shouldn’t put the outfits down like that,” said Amos. “It isn’t right.”

“Guess we’re the ones to say what’s right and what’s not right,” said the guard. “Isn’t that right?”

“That’s sacred stuff,” said Amos.

“No,” said the guard. “What we have here are eagle feathers.”

And in a rather perverse way, Eli had come to enjoy the small pleasures of resistance, knowing that each time Duplessis opened the gates a little too much or turned on the light a little too late, it was because he was there.

By the time Lionel turned to walk down Fourth Street, he had divided the remainder of his life into a series of manageable goals. First, he would resign his position at Bursum’s. Bursum had been good to him and he hated to leave the man in the lurch, but after he explained to Bill how he wanted to get on with his life, he was sure that Bill would understand. And there would be no need to mention that he had never received a raise in all the years he had worked there.

After the first few years, Karen stopped talking about the Sun Dance and mentioned it only on those occasions when the trip appeared in conversation. It was a silent place in their lives. Eli knew Karen wanted to go back to Alberta, but he also knew she could sense his reluctance. At first Karen suggested that perhaps he felt uncomfortable about taking her along since she wasn’t Indian.

“Your ancestors were slaves, were they not?” said Dr. Hovaugh.

“Nope,” said Babo. “But some of my folks were enslaved.”

And then Portland and the rest of the Indians began to shoot back, and soldiers began falling over. Sometimes two or three soldiers would drop at once, clutching their chests or their heads or their stomachs.

John Wayne looked down and stared stupidly at the arrow in his thigh, shaking his head in amazement and disbelief as two bullets ripped through his chest and out the back of his jacket. Richard Widmark collapsed facedown in the sand, his hands clutching at an arrow buried in his throat.

“Jesus!” said Bursum, and he stabbed the remote even harder.

Charlie had his hands out of his pockets, his fists clenched, keeping time to the singing. His lips were pulled back from his teeth, and his eyes flashed as he watched his father flow through the soldiers like a flood.

“Get ’em, Dad,” he hissed.

Well. Old Woman watches Young Man Walking On Water. She watches him stomp his feet. She watches him yell at those Waves. She watches him shout at that Boat. So, she feels sorry for him. Pardon me, she says. Would you like some help?

There you go again, says Young Man Walking On Water. Trying to tell me what to do.

Well, says Old Woman, someone has to. You are acting as though you have no relations. You shouldn’t yell at those happy Waves. You shouldn’t shout at that jolly Boat. You got to sing a song.

“Come on,” said George. “Come on! It’s the twentieth century. Nobody cares about your little powwow. A bunch of old people and drunks sitting around in tents in the middle of nowhere. Nobody cares about any of this.”

“Go away, George,” said Latisha. “Just go away.”

“You’re a joke!” George’s lips were wet with spit. “You all act like this is important, like it’s going to change your lives. Christ, you guys are born stupid and you die stupid.”

Lionel picked up the case and set it on its feet. “There’s nothing for you here.”

Sifton felt it first, a sudden shifting, a sideways turning, a flexing, the snapping crack of concrete and steel, and in that instant the water rose out of the lake like a mountain, sucking the cars under and pitching them high in the air, sending them at the dam in an awful rush.

And the dam gave way, and the water and the cars tumbled over the edge of the world.

Lionel waited until Charlie’s car disappeared down the road. “So,” he said to Alberta, “you in town for the weekend?”

“That’s right,” said Alberta. “Figured I’d give Norma a hand.”

“With what?”

“With the cabin,” said Norma. “You can help, too.”

Lionel stopped what he was doing and looked at Norma and then he looked at the dam. “You’re not serious?”

“Sure she is, brother,” said Latisha.

“Won’t take much,” said Norma. “We’ll get Harley’s truck and drag as many logs as we can back up here, and what we’re short, we can cut and bring in.”

“That’s a lot of work,” said Lionel.

“My mother did it,” said Norma. “Did it all by herself.”

Alberta set her feet in the mud and put her hands on her hips. “You can help or you can sell televisions.”

“Okay, okay, here goes,” says Coyote. “In the beginning, there was nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“That’s right,” says Coyote. “Nothing.”

“No,” I says. “In the beginning, there was just the water.”

“Water?” says Coyote.

“Yes,” I says. “Water.”

“Hmmmm,” says Coyote. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I says, “I’m sure.”

“Okay,” says Coyote, “if you say so. But where did all the water come from?”

“Sit down,” I says to Coyote.

“But there is water everywhere,” says Coyote.

“That’s true,” I says. “And here’s how it happened.”