This book is not only some of the most absolutely delicious writing I have ever found, but the content was truly ephiphany. Having lived for many years in a community that was filled with Native People, I always had the eerie feeling that I was somehow disingenuous when I was with them, (but couldn't quite figure out why). After reading this, I now understand. I cried all over the book, and belly laughed out loud. If white Americans are ever to hope for forgiveness for the gaping wounds and scars left by what the European people did to the Native People on this continent, we are first going to have to fully understand what happened, and then own the stinging, horrible truth of our ancestors, and our continuing racism. It comes to us, bitterly and sweetly, from the mouth of a Lakota elder, his friends and family, through the courageous pen and heart of Kent Nerburn. The last time I read a book that had as much impact on me as this one, it was Stienbeck's "Grapes of Wrath".