Award-winning
writer Jim Northrup, Ojibwe, is not just a storyteller. Along with
his wife, Patricia, Dakota, he is also known as a language warrior
for reviving Ojibwe. And he keeps alive such traditions as sugarbush,
the tapping of maple trees for sap, and making birch-bark baskets.
Born on the Fond du Lac Reservation in
northern Minnesota, Northrup was one of 12 children. He attended
boarding schools in Minnesota and South Dakota and did a stint in
reform schoolcharged with aggravated buffoonery with
intent to mope, as he put itbefore graduating high school
in Carlton, Minnesota. He joined the U.S. Marines and served for
five years, including in Vietnam.
Settling in Sawyer, Minnesota, he lived
a mile off the road in a $600 tipi from a catalogue. I liked
the solitude of it. Quiet. During the evenings Northrup, with
his friends and family, told stories around the fire. His tales
had them falling off the log, laughing and begging for
more, he said.
At one point he realized that his tale
of Luke Warmwater looked a lot like stories he had read, and he
began publishing. His poetry and prose have appeared in many forms,
including several books, and a column, the Fond du Lac Follies.
He has been mentored by such well-known Anishinaabe writers as Gerald
Vizenor and Louise Erdrich and was the subject of a documentary
that won numerous awards, Jim Northrup: With Reservations.
He has eight children, someplace
between 15 and 20 grandchildren and a great-grandchild. He
lives with Patricia near Sawyer, among their children and his siblings.
A collection of Northrups columns, Anishinaabe Syndicated:
A View from the Rez, has just come out from the Minnesota Historical
Society Press. Read a review and an excerpt. Meanwhile, Indian Country
Today Media Network caught up with the author himself at home.
ICTMN: Why choose the Marines?
Northrup: Id watched a lot of John Wayne movies! If
you have to serve, you might as well serve with the best. There
was already a strong history of Indians in the Marines (with the
code talkers). It was an experience that I excelled at. I served
five years and nine days.
How did you come to writing?
My grandfather was a writer. His work is in the Duluth library
historical section. Its a Romeo and Juliet type of story with
the Chippewa and Sioux. Just to know that he was doing it back then,
when they were still shooting us for our feathers, I thought, Hell,
I could do it too.
How do you decide whether
to use poetry or prose for a story?
I tell it. I sit one of my relatives down and say, I
want to tell this story. Then I write it
and do revising
and reworking and revising, then I abandon it. Later I read it out
loud. My ear is a better editor than my eye.
Do you keep to tradition?
I live my life with the seasons. This time of year Im
preparing for sugarbush, making maple taps. I like doing it as my
grandparents and parents did, to honor them. When I was away at
school my grandmother would send me a sugar cake every month. One
taste would connect me with what was here.
Whats next?
The [columns] from 2001 to now are edited and looking for
a home. Im finishing a book with Luke Warmwater as deputy
sheriff and public defender. Im not calling it a novel, its
three long short stories. Im on Facebook and have 2,024 friends.
Im kind of a Facebook whore; anybody who wants to be friends,
Ill say sure.
Youve traveled a
lot. As an Ojibwe, how are you received?
If I go to Chicago, Im kind of exotic. If I go to D.C.,
Im a national treasure. In Europe, Im a representation
of all American Indians. Being Anishinaabe, its as though
I give them a license to ask anything. There have been so many dumb
questions. I think one of my favorites was a woman who pushed her
way to the front after a talk. Can I ask you a question?
she said. I told her okay. How do you bathe? So I told
her, First I wash down as far as possible and then I wash
up as far as possible. And then I wash possible.
Note: Paul and I are honored to call Jim
a friend..
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