Playing Indian Week 9


Dear Mother,

            I surely do miss you and I hope that life is well in England and that you are carrying on as usual. I’m sure you’ve heard rumors of death and disease in the colonies, but I can assure that my enclave in the Northeast is quite healthy. You may also have heard rumors about Indians. The “savages” and “others.” Many in the colonies view these communities in opposition to our way of life. Outsiders. Nobodies. Us vs. them. People compare our civilization that we have created here in this new land to theirs—which many find primitive—and determine that we are a world away from them. We are different. We are unlike the Indians. How could we ever be like the Indians? It’s strange because I feel a world apart from those that believe these statements. Indians were here long before us, and perhaps may be here long after we are.
            I know that in every letter I write to you, I pressure you to come to the colonies. I don’t dare mention this to you again, but the tide in the colonies is shifting, at least where I am. People around me aren’t thinking about Indians as “them,” they aren’t thinking about Indians as “others.” The true other is now England. England is the one that has betrayed us. The Indians have done nothing but help, and we are with them as much as we are against the monarchy across the sea. The Indians are us now, and I would gladly welcome their assistance in a war against England. This is the last time I’ll say it—let me arrange passage for you from England to the colonies. I promise I can make a home— a life—for you here. There is no future for the colonies and England, and I would hate to think that means there is no future for our relationship.

Yours truly,
John

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