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JIM NORTHRUP: I was scheduled to get out of the Marine Corps. And there was an involuntary extension. And so I extended four more months so I'd have enough time to go.

SPEAKER: Why did you want to go?

JIM NORTHRUP: I'm a warrior. I grew up listening to the stories of the warriors. So when it became my turn, it was just a natural.

I knew there was strength in the ceremonies. And the ceremonies I attended before I left and after I came back made me realize that I was in no real danger, even though there were terrible things happening around me. Plus, the fact my grandmother would send me maple sugar cakes. And I could make a sugar cake last for three weeks just by taking a little bitty bite each day.

SPEAKER: How was writing that-- how does it affect your memories at all, if at all?

JIM NORTHRUP: It affects it in a positive way. It seems like once I write it down, I don't have to nightmare about it anymore. It's not the substance of dreams. So once I can put it down on paper, it closes the page on that book.

I think I'm pretty well done with Vietnam. I've written a book of poetry about it and some three short stories now. And I think I've pretty well got it out of my system. I'd rather write about what's happening to Indian people today.

SPEAKER: You live on the Fond du Lac Reservation with your family and live a rather traditional life. In your book, Walking the Rez Road, it's a collection of stories and poems. And what stays with me are two things about the life that you paint.

One is that it can be very hard. That there's daily struggles at times. Where am I going to sleep? Where am I going to eat? Is my car going to run? And then the other part was, but you don't have to worry too much. Because you still know a sense of family and tribe that provides.

JIM NORTHRUP: I think that sense of sharing is what's helped us survive on this continent for thousands and thousands of years. And that brings to mind the casinos. Because they seem diametrically opposed to that concept of sharing. It's just the opposite. I talked to an old man. And he told me it was just another test like assimilation, relocation.

SPEAKER: Your new book, Walking the Rez Road, has stories in it and poems. And usually, you'd tag a story with a poem that came out of that same experience of the story. But it's like the story condensed to the n-th degree in a poem.

JIM NORTHRUP: This poem came about because my wife asked me to write a poem about death. She was working at Mash Ka Wisen Treatment Center. And she was dealing with people who had suffered a death recently. And so she said, it's such a big part of our life. Why don't you make a poem out of it? I wrote it shortly before my father died. And the first public reading was at his funeral.

SPEAKER: Did you know when you were writing it that he was dying?

JIM NORTHRUP: No. But it's-- in a large, extended family, it's common to be confronted with death all the time. This is called "End of the Beginning."

"Someone said we begin to die

The minute we're born.

Death is a part of life.

Who knows why the Creator

Thins his herd.

Another old saying says

We must all be prepared

To give up those we love

Or die first.

Take time to mourn.

Take time to remember.

Everything happens in cycles.

The pain you feel was once

Balanced by someone's joy

When that baby was born.

The loss you feel today

Will be replaced by good

Long-lasting memories.

Is there a message here?

Yeah, treat others like this

Is your last day above ground."

I was honored. A friend of mine suddenly had to go to a funeral. And he read that poem at his brother's funeral. So I felt honored when that happened.

SPEAKER: Do you like reading your work out loud?

JIM NORTHRUP: Yes, I do. I think it's a continuation of the oral tradition that is so common on the Reservation. In fact, before I sit down to write a short story, I tell it. I tell it to my wife. I tell it to my cousin, my horseshoe partner, anyone I can capture. And I tell them the story I want to write.

I think it's the physical act of sharing the story that makes it work. It's like you wake up the spirit of the story. And then when you rewrite it enough, it ends up looking like it wants to look.

SPEAKER: You write a column called the "Fond du Lac Follies." I'm wondering, do you have free rein over what you write in that column?

JIM NORTHRUP: Yes, I have free rein. I've been edited a few times. And there were some times when the editors wished they had edited me. But basically, I have free rein. It's syndicated. So if one newspaper cuts out something, the other ones carry it, usually.

SPEAKER: How many papers are you in now?

JIM NORTHRUP: "The Follies" is in three native newspapers. Well, four, now that the Native American press split. Then I write a monthly column for the Duluth newspaper and most recently started writing on the commentary page for the Minneapolis paper.

SPEAKER: That's a very different kind of writing than what's in the book. How do you like that?

JIM NORTHRUP: I enjoy it. Basically, what I do is I listen to a lot of people. And I see what they're talking about and see what they're concerned about. And I focus my energies on that subject. And I wait for the tribal councils to make mistakes, which isn't very long. And then I remind them that there is somebody out here watching.

SPEAKER: Do you ever get in trouble for what you write?

JIM NORTHRUP: I guess it would depend. I guess you'd have to define trouble.

SPEAKER: People come knocking on your door, hey-- ringing you up, sending you letters saying, hey, Northrup, this isn't right. Maybe this isn't politically correct within Native American circles. Or I just don't like what you said.

JIM NORTHRUP: I did get one letter, the first negative letter in four years, a couple of months ago. People objected to the joke I wrote. The "Fond du Lac Follies" has a section called Question of the Month.

And the question was, "Question, why do Indians make better lovers? Answer, because a lot them don't have to get up and go to work the next morning." Some people, mostly around the community college, objected to that, told me I was part of the problem instead of part of the solution.

SPEAKER: Ah. And what did you answer, or did you?

JIM NORTHRUP: Well, I printed their letter in the column. And that gave me a chance to repeat the joke two more times.

SPEAKER: There is a bit of a prankster about you. I should tell listeners that right now, you're wearing a beaded tobacco pouch that is the shape of a smiley face wearing a headband and a feather. But it's beaded. So it's a bright yellow--

JIM NORTHRUP: Beautiful beadwork.

SPEAKER: It is beautiful beadwork, it is, in yellow. You're having some fun here, Jim.

JIM NORTHRUP: I think a lot of non-native people misunderstand our humor. Somebody grew up thinking that we are the cigar store kind of Indians. And that's very far from the truth. I think humor is a survival tool. Sometimes things are so bad all you can do is laugh at them. And there's no situation or even ceremony that's so sacred that you can't make a joke about it. I'd like to recite a poem--

SPEAKER: Please.

JIM NORTHRUP: --called "Rez Car."

"It's 17 years old.

Been used

A lot more than most.

Louder than a 747.

Multicolored and none

Of the tires are brothers.

I'm the seventh or eighth owner.

I know I'll be the last.

What's wrong with it?

Well, the other day,

The steering wheel fell off.

The radio doesn't work,

But the heater does.

The seats have seen more

Asses than a proctologist.

I turn the key, it starts.

I push the brake, it stops.

What else is a car

Supposed to do?"

SPEAKER: Well, your book is very funny. But it's black humor at times.

JIM NORTHRUP: That's a case of laughing at something so you don't cry. This is from a short story called "Looking with Ben." "Luke paid the ransom for his car. And they left the parking lot. As they headed toward the Reservation, Ben picked up where he left off.

'Washington is sure a funny place. The tourists would come up and ask if they could take my picture. Some of them sent their kids to stand next to me. Most of them sounded like Americans.

After the first dozen, I started charging $5 a pose. I made $200 in a little over an hour. I got tired of the dumb questions about Indians. So just for the hell of it, I changed tribes.

With some of them, I was a Chippewa. With others, I was a Sioux. Sometimes I'd be a Comanche. And right at the end there, I was telling them I was half Chippewa, half Ojibwe, and the rest was Anishinaabe.'"

SPEAKER: We're talking with Jim Northrup. He's author of a new book, Walking the Rez Road. And he also is a columnist-- a syndicated columnist in the "Fond du Lac Follies." You can find that in a number of Native American newspapers as well as the Duluth News Tribune and the Minneapolis Star Tribune.

JIM NORTHRUP: Yes.

SPEAKER: There are a number of Native American writers on the national scene right now that get a lot of attention-- Joy Harjo, Minnesota's own Gerald Vizenor, Louise Erdrich. But the big sellers, it seems to me, are the non-fiction ones that deal with Native American spirituality. Those books are not always explaining a culture from a story point, but are explaining parts of it that seems we can buy or use. How do you feel about that?

JIM NORTHRUP: I don't like the rent-a-shaman idea. The people that are making a good living off of spirituality are not living the traditional way of life to my way of thinking. In my book, you won't find much spirituality or instructions on how to be a good person. Because I believe that's personal.

One of the good points of my system of beliefs is I don't have to convert anyone. And the thought of doing it for money is repugnant to me. I would rather share than sell.

SPEAKER: What's next for you? What do you want to do?

JIM NORTHRUP: Next is a collection of the "Fond du Lac Follies" and other public writings I've been doing. The one after that will be a biography with a reissue of a story that my grandfather wrote in the 1920s. I want to write a biography of him. I've done some research on him. And I've remembered the family stories about him.

I remember meeting him. But I was more interested in the book he wrote or the novella he wrote called Wawina, which was a Romeo-Juliet kind of story set back when the white man first came to the Chippewa back in the 1600s when there was still war going on between the Chippewa and the Sioux.

SPEAKER: And his name was, Jim?

JIM NORTHRUP: Joseph Northrup. He wrote under the name of Nodin. Published in a serial form in a county newspaper. And I think that was a success for him at his time because I believe at the time, not many Indians were even speaking English. And I used to enjoy going into the Duluth Public Library and asking if they had anything written by Joseph Northrup. And they would show me to the aisle and show me to the book.

SPEAKER: That's a great story. I want to ask you a final question here. This seems like a really good time for you right now. Are you enjoying yourself?

JIM NORTHRUP: Yes, I am. I just turned 50 a couple of months ago. And when I was young, I used to hear the average age of death for Indians was 44. So I figured for the last six years, it's all been gravy juice.

SPEAKER: Thanks very much for coming in today, reading, and talking.

JIM NORTHRUP: Thank you.