Dad always claimed that he was a quarter Indian, from the Potawatomi tribe of southern Michigan. But he we didn't mean by blood: when his big sister Nora married a Potawatomi man (my Uncle Henry), he was sort of adopted by the family. When I was a kid, we occasionally drove to Dowagiac, Michigan, about four hours from Rock Island, to visit Grandma Rani, a small, brown, wrinkled woman who always said "You've grown as big as a beanstalk!"One day in fifth grade, he told me "We're going out to Michigan for your Grandma Rani's 90th birthday. All of your uncles and aunts and cousins are throwing her a big party."
Cousins? Potawatomi boys my own age?
I remembered the naked Indian boy that Bill and I saw at the Pow Wow last summer -- huge beneath the belt.
And Cousin Joe, half Indian -- huge.
Suddenly I was very interested in meeting my Indian cousins.
The rest of the story, with uncensored photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood.