I FELT ANYTHING BUT glamorous on the day I was initiated as a princess. In fact, I spent most of my time quivering under a piano bench.
The living room was filled with girls my age, about 5 or 6, that I hadn't seen before. I didn't want to be there, and I was infuriated that I couldn't be home. No. My parents made me come here, instead.
I was in the room with Claudine, Brierly, Heather, Michelle, Ashley, and Margaret. But we weren't alone: our dads were there, too. It was like a version of Girl Scouts without the cookies, though we too had plenty of treats along the way. I mean, this group was led by a bunch of dads.
When my dad ushered me out to the kitchen to do a craft project, I grudgingly went with him. We were all decorating flowerpots, and I couldn't see what the purpose was, but it seemed okay. So I went with it.
Still. I wasn't sure what this Indian Princess thing all was about. I wasn't Indian and I certainly wasn't a princess, despite what my grandma was always telling me. Besides, living in a castle would be so boring.
This group, sponsored by the YMCA, would meet once a month, usually on a Thursday evening, and I would learn what it meant. And there were many good reasons to join, as seen below.
#1: Growing Confidence
We met once a month. I didn't hang out with the other girls very much to begin with. When we had meetings, I would typically try to hide among the other dads. During the first or second meeting at my house, I would sit in the kitchen with the dads as they messed around with this floral decorating my mom had which had a sort-of trumpet inside it. The other girls played in the basement, not caring their host was missing.
Other times, I'd find something else that interested me. Maybe it was someone's dog who needed petting. Other times it was a robotic dog. There was a toy that existed at one point called Poo-Chi, and it could move on its own and interact with you. I could never get mine to work.
Brierly had one, though. All the girls oohed and aahed over the cool new toy, and so did I. A Poo-Chi that actually moved and used its mouth to pick up a bone! This was cool. I wanted to see it, too, but by then Brierly and the other girls had moved to something else.
"I want to see that dog," I said.
"You should go ask her!" Dad kept saying.
I couldn't muster the courage to ask.
I chose to hang out with the dads on several occasions. One day, my dad had enough. We were all at Heather's house, preparing to swim in the pool, when he made me go downstairs and interact with people.
"Go play in the basement. It'll be fun," he said, forcing me down the steps and closing the door.
I don't remember what we did, but it seemed just fine at the time. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
#2: Meetings
I was forced out of my shell eventually. We started off meetings by standing in a circle and saying a chant. The dads would promise to be "friends always with my daughter" and we would form a circle facing the dads with our hands criss-crossed. We would be wearing vests with patches that we earned by going to certain events, just like the Girl Scouts did. Our tribal chief, or group leader, would then bring out something called a talking stick.
I should mention that Chief Donny-O was a legend. He wasn't just the chief of our tribe, but the head honcho for all the tribes in our nation. We, the Dakota Blackfeet, were one of about five other tribes in the county. Tribes of the four or five local counties made up a nation, and he was in charge of ours. Don would often be the one heading things at nation-wide events, in addition to being our tribal chief, and there were talks to make socks with his face on them.
Anyway, this talking stick would be passed around the circle and each girl would share some news that she had. When we were young, these bits of news would usually be things such as "I lost a tooth!" or "I went to Disney World" or "I cleaned my room!" And I thought my adult life was boring!
After that, we'd move onto the craft project. There were lots of painted flowerpots, but also photo frames and other things. Then we'd have a snack and hang out for a while before it was time for everyone to head home and do our goodbye ceremony, similar to the opening one, where we'd promise to be "friends always...now...and forever!!! *cue pointing fingers to the sky*" Soon enough, these meetings were something to look forward to.
#3: Identity
We took pride in being Dakota Blackfeet girls.
At one point, we were asked to make a banner with our tribe name on it. This would be used for future events. We all got together at a local park, painted our hands, and left our marks on the banner.
We were true Indian Princesses now, ones with nature.
A favorite project of mine, though, was a table centerpiece. One of the dads had made a wooden centerpiece with our tribe name on it. We were all on someone's porch one day, working on the craft project which was creating a beaded rope to hang from the centerpiece. In the middle of these ropes was a wooden shape, like a heart, on which we glued a picture of ourselves. Later the dads tied these ropes to the centerpiece so they dangled from the top. We would use these at meals to come, particularly at campouts. Wherever we went, it wasn't hard to find us.
#4: Traditions
We loved our house meetings, and I was feeling better about these new friends, too. I loved playing with Petey, Brierly's new dog. I loved playing Hide and Seek (except for knocking down someone's curtains in the process...whoops). But there were large-scale events also that were for every tribe in the nation.
Every fall, the entire nation would go to a farm for initiation. This was how my sister Kelly would start out as well. We'd do a corn maze, go on a hayride, enjoy a bonfire, and each tribe would welcome all the new princesses to their group. Come Thanskgiving, it was a tradition for many princesses to go and pack up meals for people who needed it.
Some years, we would go rafting on a local river. Riding the rapids was always fun, but one year my mom made me skip out on a school party so I could go. I didn't know that I loved it THAT much. Splash fights with other tribes were fun, but eating Lunchables on the side of the river and riding in disgusting vans back to the drop-off site was not.
To start off the new year, we'd go square dancing, led by an older fellow and his wife. We'd bring Grandpa along and the four of us would have a rootin-tootin-good-ol country time. Nobody thought it was dorky, or was embarrassed to know what school friends might think. Everyone just enjoyed their time together and let loose before heading to Friendly's for ice cream sundaes. By Christmas, it was time for some gift wrapping for charity.
In the spring, we'd march in our hometown's annual Memorial Day parade. Or rather, we rode in it. Chief Donny-O would arrive with his tractor and the "float." We'd meet up in the YMCA parking lot beforehand to decorate it, and prepare the bags of candy. Back then, parade members often tossed candy to the onlookers, and we were ready to do just thatâexcept for one year when the dads forgot to bring the candy bags. We improvised and grabbed extra candy from the street to throw out. I saw Greg from the bus there once, and my friend Haley--I made sure to toss her extra pieces. We'd also sell pretzels at the YMCA, and occasionally impromptu meetups would happen in the local park where we made our banner. The last big event of the year (not including one in the summer) was the annual banquet, where we'd get dressed up and have a nice meal before hitting the dance floor. These were accompanied by entertainment, which was usually a magician in the first few years. Later it would be a DJ who called himself P Daddy, fittingly.
Of course, weekly meetings were the main component of the program, and we had more fun with them. From campfires, where we acted out a traditional Native American story, to pool parties, a great time was had by both dads and daughters. I have also been told that we nearly burned someone's house down with one of these bonfires, while roasting smores. There was a reason why we didn't tell our moms much about these events.
The princess year would conclude with a summer trip to the mountains. And that was one of the most beloved traditions of all...
#5: CAMPOUTS!
The granddaddy. The Grand Poo Bah. The queen mother of princess events. That is to say, the campouts.
These lasted longer than anything else we did with the program. Even when we were older and too busy for house meetings, we still attended campouts.
For one weekend twice a year, we'd go away for some outdoor adventures and plenty of junk food. Claudine's father was notorious for his 4-pound hamburgers, and all sorts of goodies took up space in our cabins. Chief Donny-O bought a veggie tray, because his wife allowed no junk food in their house. This was often untouched. As for the junk food, his daughters Michelle, and Jessica who joined the tribe later, were especially appreciative.
In addition to junk food, other traditions abounded. Late night movies were popular. Winter camp was the first time I stayed up until 2:30 in the morning. Gold Diggers and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants were two in-cabin choices, but at one point the camp also showed Flicka, which a school classmate's father had directed.
There was an event in the winter and one in the summer. We'd stay in cabins for a weekend, our tribal banner front and center, while participating in a myriad of activities. Camp Mason had many perks, but the most legendary of these was the sledding hill. In years to come, we were also able to sled by a hill near the dining hall right onto the lake that was frozen over. That was even better. My first try freaked me out, though. It was so fast! So windy! So much snow in my face! By the time I reached the bottom, one of my boots was coming off. Fortunately, once I got older and had more control over my sled, I grew to like sledding more.
We'd hang out and play Ping Pong in the cabins during down time, or we'd ride our scooters up and down the hallway. There were nature walks and Bingo games (my favorite) and the arts and crafts cabin, where we made bear claw necklaces and dreamcatchers, and a BB gun lodgeâI still remember the sobs from when some kid nearly did shoot their eye out. Best of all was the legendary Saturday skit night.
Some skits were better than others. Remember that centerpiece? Well, apparently we were the only tribe who had one. Other tribes thought it hysterical to keep stealing it. It would always seem to disappear by Saturday's lunch, and it was up to us to try and locate it!
This year, which would end up being my final skit night, was going to be the year we won the Moose Cup (the moose being an iconic decoration on the wall who we named the skit award after), we decided. We were going to do something great. First, Ashley came up with the incoming chant. Some of us carried torches, and on the way to the dining hall, she'd lead us.
"When I say Dakota, you say Blackfeet! Dakota!"
"Blackfeet!"
"Dakota!"
"Blackfeet!"
"When I say number, you say one! Number!"
"One!"
"Number!"
"One!"
We all came up with an idea to act out a skit about an Adventure Princess meeting in the far future. However, seemed like changes were already happening. We were entering the culturally pre-woke mid-2000s, so we weren't going to get away with some of our...uh, cultural...traditions forever. I never thought that we were being disrespectful, but changes happened anyway. Thus, we were now called Adventure Princesses, not Indian ones. My little sister Emily was now in a tribe of her own. Called the Running Rivers, the idea of Native American traditions was flying by the wayside. But here, still Dakota Blackfeet, we imagined ourselves as adults. Where were we now? I was a working girl whose secretary was Hannah Montana. Chief Donny-O was an old man using a walker and talking in a gravelly old-man voice about how he "used to be the chief!" It went down to gales of laughter, and we were a hit.
Then it was time for the last act of the night. The Chippewa girls and dads were pulling things out of a time capsule. Nothing really stood out to me as especially funny, so I wondered if we had the competition in the bag. And that was when one of the dads reached in to the box and pulled out our centerpiece. The entire room whooped and hollered.
The new Nation Chief said that results were being tabulated, and it was between us and the Chippewa. In all fairness, we were the funniestâaside from the chief actually slipping on a banana peel during the proceedings. We ended up just losing because of our own centerpiece.
I went camping most years from kindergarten to eighth grade, except for in the one year where there was a snowstorm and another when I had gone already. Seventh grade camping was interrupted by a school trip. Our school always took 7th graders to Camp Mason for a few days in the winter, and it would be the week before the Adventure Princesses were due to go. We had a great time. A cabinmate read to us from her book every night. We enjoyed animal shows. We enjoyed watching the boys goof off by slowly placing one more bench in a row of benches and seeing who could jump over the most (and we also enjoyed spying on their cabin). We enjoyed trying to recall the names of the seven dwarfs in triviaâisn't that the one question that trips everyone up?
I enjoyed something else, though. After a lunch, one of the staff members was lecturing us about our food waste, a common practice for these types of camps. He told us, "This is pretty bad, but you guys aren't the worst. We have a group of 270 people coming and that's always a nightmare!" I'm pretty sure I knew which group he was talking about.
And when we walked past the traditional Dakota Blackfeet cabin on our way to an activity, oddly quiet and undisturbed, I looked at it and got that chill you get when worlds collide in weird ways. I could even see inside the kitchen where the dads would cook burgers. I enjoyed filling Christine in on these adventures, but was sad that my parents wouldn't let me go with the princesses that year since I had already gone for school.
In the summer, we'd head to the Poconos for another campout. One of the highlights was the big lake. We loved to wade in it, and go canoeing, but another big draw was the salamanders. When we weren't at the lake, we were probably swimming, rock climbing, doing archery, or just chilling at the cabins making up our own games while the dads sat on the porches drinking beer. They also had a gymnasium with a foam pit. A trampoline "diving board" allowed us to run and bounce into the pit, which led to hours of fun. Summer camp also brought the annual bonfire, where we'd sing songs and induct a new Nation Chief if it was time for a new one. We'd make up songs to the tunes of famous ballads, like Tingalayo:
It's Camp MAAASSSOON! Come to the campout, come,
It's Camp MAAASSSOON! Come to the campout come.
The hot dogs come, the hot dogs go, to whom we give them we do not know...
And so on. For the record, it wasn't uncommon to be singing about the camp locale that we weren't presently at.
But some years are remembered for the general rather than the specifics. One year, we were driving up as normal. Suddenly, it was like we were transported into the middle of winter. Seriously, though. Where were the leaves on the trees? My naïve self wondered about a forest fire, but bare trees were everywhere.
Once we got to camp, we spotted the culprit.
Caterpillars.
The woolyworms were everywhere. I mean, everywhere. They were crawling up the cabins, on the roof, on the ground, on the trees where they proceeded to eat every leaf in the county, everywhere. You had to watch every step you took. What I thought was a thick layer of bark on some trees were actually hordes of caterpillars. Things were so bad by the time we arrived that a few crafty dads had hung up a tarp over the cabin deck to keep from being showered with caterpillar poop. The girls did what they could to keep things under control as well; they used sticks to burn caterpillars in a small fire they started. (Again, a reason why we didn't share much with our mothers about these trips.)
I owe the caterpillars, though. The following spring, it was time for the annual T-shirt design contest. I wasn't good at drawing, but Mom suggested that I write a "top 10" list of reasons why winter camping was the best. What inspired this idea? The caterpillars! Indeed, "no caterpillars" topped my list of reasons, among "not taking showers" and "sledding." I soon got an email that my design had won that year's contest. It was the first time I'd won something that wasn't a board game. More power to the caterpillars.
Even when house meetings started becoming less frequent, the campouts stayed a staple. They soon became one of Emily's favorite events of the year, even when I no longer attended.
#6: Memories
Around the time I started high school, I was no longer doing Adventure Princesses. It's one of those things where girls slowly stopped coming to events until eventually, nobody was left. Claudine hadn't been there for years. Brierly's cheerleading practice took up more time, and she stopped coming earlier on as well.
The fact was that we were all getting older. People were picking school dances over campouts, sleepovers over weekly meetings, and perhaps dates over square dancing. We were mostly in Princesses for the large-scale events. Kelly was still in it for an extra hot minute, and Emily was enjoying her own tribe.
The occasional meeting took place at our house, and one night, Dad rented a huge inflatable screen for a backyard movie night. As Mom used to do with Kelly and Emily before they joined, we had time together, watching an episode of Undercover Boss and taking peeks outside, remembering the good times. There were talks of doing a "reunion campout" that never panned out; a reunion banquet even, which we attended. Still, memories remained.
They had to. We kept running into old tribe members. We've seen Chief Donny-O on several occasions. He worked at the church where my mom taught preschool, but there were other times too. One summer day, my family went to eat at a little-known place called Duck Deli. It had become a family favorite with its rustic charm and fried chicken. This particular day, a table behind us got our attention. It was Heather's family! Emily wanted us to go back to eating, since she didn't know these peopleâthey weren't her tribe. But we enjoyed the laugh anyway.
Then something caught my eye in the lobby.
Was that Chief Donny's jacket?
No, I was thinking too hard. Why would they all be here, at this little restaurant, right at this second?
Because life just worked that way. I was right. When they walked in, they spotted my dad first.
"Hey, Jon!" Don said.
"Hey!" Cue loud greetings. Dad pointed out Heather's family, and soon we were all greeting each other and saying hello. The one poor family that didn't know anybody else in the room grinned and bore it while we said hellos.
"We should have a dads and daughters meeting right now!" the chief joked.
"Not right now?" Emily asked. She wasn't great at realizing what jokes were, and I was tempted to laugh. But the other part of me wanted to cry.
"He's just kidding, sweetie," Dad reassured my sister.
We all finished our lunches at our respective tables. My family would laugh on this occurrence for years to come, and whenever Dad and I would run into one of the Blackfeet dads at the grocery store---multiple times. Sometimes, the past won't die quietly. That's not always a bad thing, At that little restaurant, that little hidden gem, there the three of us were, one more time.
****
We haven't seen anyone since. But it was still good to remember.
Fast forward to Father's Day 2019. Dad was all excited because he found something in the garage that he wanted to show us. Technically, it was supposed to be a gift to me when I turned 25. We missed it by months, but Father's Day would be a good day, he decided. Kelly had one as well. What did he find?
Time capsules from the chief! We struggled with opening them at first, but the tubes included little mementos from the Sunday post-campout afternoons he spent cleaning the cabins and grabbing everything that people left behind.
We found:
A Tootsie roll. Were we supposed to eat it? Duh, no, this was a time capsule. I guess it was left on the floor of the cabins one year.
A BB gun from the shooting range. I remembered the girl who almost shot her eye out.
A feather from making dreamcatchers at the arts and crafts cabin.
Styrofoam from the dining hall.
Straw from the original sledding hill.
A message from Donny himself. It read, minus grammar corrections I'm dying to make:
As a young girl, in the Adventure Princess program, my Dad took me to a special place for a winter weekend.
The first time I went I was very young. The place was so neat. The cabins had bunk beds and we climbed all over them. We stayed up till 10:00 PM and ate all kinds of junk food. My Dad helped me put on my snow pants, boots, and gloves. My daddy and I explored the place hand in hand all day Saturday. There was a sledding hill bigger than any I had ever seen. We shot B.B. guns, bows and arrows, baked apples and made crafts. Some of the really big girls ran a Bingo game after lunch with cool prizes. At night the dads came up with a skit we did in front of the nation. The other tribes did some really funny skits too. My dad had to carry me back to the cabin on Saturday night. I was sooooo tired. I heard the dads talking and laughing late at night before I fell asleep. I remember thinking how they all acted a little different then they did at home. It was like this place made them more like kids.
My elementary school years passed and every year I got excited about the winter camp out. By now I had the routine down we had our favorite cabin and I had a couple of special friends I hung out with. I didn't need help from my dad anymore getting on my snow clothes. I was a 6th grader now. Actually, I was one of the big girls running the Bingo game. I wandered around camp with my friends that year. My dad embarrassed me by wanting to get on the sled with me and my girlfriends. For the skit, me and my girl friends took charge and told the dads what to do. It was the best skit ever. It gets harder for our tribe to meet now, every body seems so busy. Even a few of the dada and daughters didn't make it this year. As I walked back to the cabin late Saturday night with my friend I slipped on some ice and banged my knee. It hurt badly, and I cried. Out of nowhere, my dad appeared, picked me up and helped me back to our cabin. He gave me some hugs and kisses and I was all better. Sunday morning dad wanted to take one last look at the lake and mess hall before leaving, just me and him. As we stood in front of the mess hall looking at the frozen lake he asked me if I thought I wanted to do this next year. Oh...yea...sure dad I replied.
The next year came and we had to cancel our trip because I had a real big school dance that weekend. It turned out we never did go back...to that special magic place my dad and I will always remember. A place we just call...MASON!
You will always be your Daddy's Princess.
Friends Always
Your Nation Chief,
Donny-O
It nearly made me tear up. It was extra bittersweet because now, even Emily's tribe was too old to meet. She hadn't been on a campout in two years and was losing touch with her best Running Rivers friend, Lexi. My dad was finishing up fifteen years at a princess dad. It was sad for all of us. You don't get childhood back. I would never be an Adventure Princess again.
On the other hand, that wasn't true. Wouldn't I always be a Dakota Blackfeet member? It was something that time couldn't erase. It couldn't not happen now. It would always be a part of my history. Just like I would always be an alumni of my middle school advisory group, or always part of the Quaker school's class of 2008, or always a member of the site I used to be a staff member on. These thoughts give me comfort when I miss the past. These moments form your identity; your story. Once a member, always a member. Maybe that's why we have time capsules such as the ones that Donny-O made...these times will always be a part of your story.
When I see the Adventure Princesses walk in the Memorial Day parade, a considerably small, younger group, I hope that they have wonderful memories ahead of them to keep the tradition going. Of course, they're not Indian Princesses anymore. In fact, hardly any of the "Indian" connections remain in what I think is probably an attempt to remove cultural appropriation; modern tribe names are merely for convenience. Even the "Princess" name isn't used as much with the program leaning toward use of the word "guides" because apparently girls don't want to be seen as delicate princesses anymore---please don't get me started. (I don't actually know the reasoning.) Even though the Nation Chief no longer wears a feathered headdress, days of weekly meetings are LONG gone, and there are no more active Dakota Blackfeet, I think about how some traditions will always endure. I hope this is one of them.