Written by Gregory Nothstine. Tundra Times Volume XXVII, Number (April 23, 1990) Editors Note: this article is reprinted courtesy of the Emerging Eagle published by the Rural Alaska Community Action Program

There are many ways to integrate cultural models to help create a vision - a vision working out a formula to combat the dependencies that hold us hostage.

One such model which I came across almost by accident is the blanket toss. I say almost by accident because it was early in my sobriety that I was asked to singlehandedly make a blanket for the annual Spirit Days celebration.

I believe it was divinely inspired for me to share my vision. I had once helped my elder uncle Paul Tiulana make a blanket for the Cook Inlet Native Association so I had a little experience and knowledge of what to do.

I have always marveled at the blanket toss ever since I can remember. I have thrilled at watching and participating in it.

The blanket is fashioned from a walrus hide and works nothing like a trampoline the blanket toss is a reflection of harmony in action and the jumper is only as good at the pullers cooperative effort.

Before I was asked to make this blanket I had just been kicked out of a substance abuse treatment facility.

They said because “You are not being totally honest with yourself you are not ready to sober up. Maybe you need to go back out drink and work on a better story and come back in 90 days.

I later rationalized that it must have been my stubborn attitude for speaking up for myself and challenging them and their [Western] program to give respect and credence to my cultural affiliation.

So I, feeling emotionally traumatized and abandoned, was honored that someone would ask me to make a blanket. To have the privilege of making something with such cultural significance gave me goose bumps. In my opinion this was equivalent to the honor of being a pipe carrier. Legend says the pipe chooses the person to take care of it by creating events leading up to the communion.

The pipe carrier is someone chosen out of respect integrity and virtue. The pipe carriers, in their many roles of honor, offer prayer acknowledging the four directions mother earth father sky and the hoop circle of life.

The blanket toss in its simplicity is a circle of people who use the blanket to collectively toss a person high enough to see at greater distances (vision).

When I found the blanket it was rolled up in a warehouse and had been sitting there for over three months. It had acquired a lot of mold and mildew and stunk something fierce.

When I attempted to unroll it, it recoiled like a poster except much more rigid. I ended up placing four 40 pound nail boxes on the corners to hold it open even then the ends curled up.

I put on overalls and used a putty knife in a vain attempt to scrape off the mold after my attempt I soon gave up realizing that I was not able to scrape off the uneven surfaces.

Contemplating what to do next, I searched the warehouse for another useful tool to solve my “moldy” problem. What I found was a wire brush just big enough to fit my hand. So on my hands and knees I grudgingly continued to rid both sides of the blanket of its crud.

Having finished scraping, I pondered my next course of action. I realized that most blankets are usually round, or at least should be in order to be effective. With this one being oblong, I rationalized by cutting two-feet off from each end and repositioning them on the sides, this would solve the problem.

It wasn't until after making the cuts, I became discouraged. I began thinking I ruined their blanket.

My immediate response was the feeling statement of, “Damn you people for asking me to make this blanket. Who am I to make such an honorable thing? I am an alcoholic who can’t do anything right. Even my life is unmanageable. I am not worthy. Please find someone else who knows what they’re doing.”

Looking back, I am glad I stuck it out and continued working. I called my Uncle Paul and told him what I was doing. I also said that I needed his help.

He later came down to the warehouse, at which time I had just finished wiping the blanket down with vegetable oil.

He took one look at the blanket, and then at me, and said, “You younger generations! I don’t know what of to think of you, you’re so helpless. It’s a good thing you have us elders with good hearts to help you. What would you do if we were not around?”

“Let see, kid,” he said looking at the three blanket pieces. “Looks like you’re in trouble, big trouble.”

As if my confidence wasn’t already shot. I became even more discouraged.

Then he said, “You can still salvage what you can, soak the skin in a river or lake overnight to soften it. Then drill holes and use six foot long leather strips from Black Elk’s Leather. Make sure you get the black leather strips – they’re the best – and soak them in a bucket of water.”

“Tie tack the pieces together and start sewing from there. To make the handles, use three-quarter inch rope for handles like we did for the other blanket you helped me with. Then call me when you’re done,” he said smiling proudly.

“I’ll come and inspect to see if you graduate. We’ll see if Tungwenuk (my Eskimo name) will graduate to be a real Eskimo?” He left, not saying another word except for waving his cane.

I couldn’t find a river to soak the blanket in, but I was able to find a lake. Sure enough the next day the hide was softer and easier to manage. I went right to work following my uncle’s advice.

It was also during this time period that a certain Jane Doe was in Providence Hospital in a coma suffering from a crack cocaine overdose and unfortunately died. I didn’t think much of it at the time, except what a shame it was that some people were so insensitive they didn’t care who they hurt to stay drunk or do drugs.

I remember I was like that when I used to drink. I was old enough and I had a right to do what I wanted. I was damned if anyone was going to tell me how to run my life.

I could raise all the dust I wanted to, besides it was socially acceptable, glamorous even, at times. Not to mention it was one thing I felt release from at the paradox of being a Native in a white world. At least that’s what I though anyway.

Working on the blanket, sewing the pieces together with black leather strips, I listened to the news that they finally figured out who the Jane Doe was.

I remember the dismay I felt when I heard it was a close friend’s younger sister. His family used to live two houses down from us. His sister was only a few years younger than my own sister. They used to play together before we moved out of the neighborhood.

As my awareness heightened, I felt a chill run down my neck.I became more fearful that the work I was doing was much more than it appeared to be.

The family’s last name was Black. Suddenly the stitches in the blanket took on more meaning. This blanket was to be a memorial blanket.

The black stitches held the blanket together, which in turn would bring people together. The people would each hold on tightly to make sure the person in the center would always land safely. They would cooperatively work together and enjoy the glee and courage of the jumper to overcome the fear of being tossed.

Rightfully so, I dedicated the blanket in Deanna Black’s memory. That we always remember her struggle is our struggle – a struggle to create a vision of hope for a world unimpaired by alcohol or drugs. That to the same measure of happiness she brought into the lives she touched, may the same measure of happiness be shared by all who witness the blanket toss. That, we, who cherish sobriety, must pull together to secure a vision of hope for those who are yet to come.

I wept and felt a rock in my throat as I continued to sew the stitches with mixed emotions. Being both scared and shamed all at the same time, I cursed and praised God. I felt insignificant that I would be used, me a [newly recovering] alcoholic and drug addict, to see the significance between the seemingly two coincidental events.

I am grateful…may God continue to do for us what we of ourselves are unable to….

Like the blanket when I first got it, I was rolled up tight. I carried with me the memories of regret, resentment, anger, hate, bitterness, shame, hopelessness and was full of my own mold and stench of the world.

When I finally surrendered to my alcoholism – and only then – did a power greater than myself open me up and scrape out the mold and reshape my life.

Now, in order to keep what I have been so freely given, I am obliged to share it with anyone who reaches out for help. It is only by giving it away that I am able to keep it.

There was once an Indian prophet named Black Elk. He said he had a vision of a hoop and inside was a hoop of many hoops and this would be a time of great healing.

If anyone ever saw the blanket toss, observe the circle of people surrounding the circle of people pulling on the blanket – then observe the handles on the blanket that loop through the hide, and finally, focus on the person standing in the center, the eye of the blanket…

[To create a vision of hope, to create an environment of trust where our children and our children’s children have a safe place to grow, we all need to pull together. Only by pulling together can we reach new heights.]