from such great heights

my indian drum

Posted in life by chapwoman on February 11, 2010

When I was in Mrs. Walker’s fourth grade class, we made Native American drums using crinkled butcher paper.  We crinkled the paper and crinkled the paper until all the wood fibers had broken apart, making a soft sort-of fabric in the end.  Then we drew on the tight surface of the drums held together by quilting rings, our own interpretation of a tribal design after reading Island of the Blue Dolphins.

I don’t know why I woke up this morning with this random memory in my head. But I remember it vividly, as my ten-year-old self, coloring my drum, sitting at my desk, next to Brent Van Maanan.

As I intently colored inside the lines, Brent said to me, “You always try to make things look perfect.”
“No, I don’t. I can color quickly…See?”

I colored more carelessly with my marker strokes, ignoring the black outlines of my design.

“Yeah, but you’ll just go back and fix it later.”
“No I won’t.”

I left the drum at my desk and started talking with Elise and Kelsey.

But after Brent scribbled over his drum and ran outside for recess, I stayed behind, and finished coloring in the lines so that no marker stroke was left astray.

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