In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

163 10. Blue as a White Guy’s Eyes 8 1998 Fond du Lac Follies motored to Minny to catch a jet to Norway. What? Norway again? Yup, they wanted to learn more about Shinnobs , so they invited me back. I was blessed on this trip because I got to meet a genuine rent-a-shaman. There are quite a few fake rent-a-shamans around, but this one was real. He was advertised as Paul the Ojibway. What luck, I thought: Paul the Ojibway was going to be in a little town in rural Norway at the same time I was. The gods were smiling at me. The flyer gave the location and the price for attending the healing circle. I learned that I could get in for half price when I called the number on the flyer (must have been a Shinnob discount or something). I paid twenty bucks; the Norwegians had to pay forty. Half price for a half-ass healing circle, that sounded about right. Lord knows I had twenty bucks to spend so I could meet a genuine rent-a-shaman. The doings were held in a rented conference center in the center of town. There was a Christmas tree in one corner serving as a backdrop for the event. A single strand of lights coiled around the plastic tree. The fake presents under the tree added to the ambiance of the setting. An electric Christmas star was blinking in disbelief in one window.Thereweresixpayingcustomersatthehealingcircle,some curious, some seeking spiritual help, and one skeptical Shinnob. I saw some bright yellow plastic shopping bags on a couch. The bags said “BunnPris” on the side (“low price” in Norwegian, I think). Paul the Ojibway walked in and shook hands all about. He didn’t look like any of my relatives. He sat down on the couch and pulled out some moccasins from one of the plastic bags. Paul took off his street shoes and slipped the moccasins on. As he pulled on the calf- 164 Anishinaabe Syndicated high moccasins, I couldn’t help thinking—the Doctor is in! He went on duty at that point. He was in charge of this healing circle, by god. There were two cute little bears drawn on the toes of the moccasins. He carried the plastic bags to the table and set up shop. I saw crystals , I smelled sage, and I saw seashells and an eagle feather. There were four cassette tapes standing by on the table. Paul spoke in English with a Norwegian translator. We sat in the chairs and began to get our money’s worth. The lights were dimmed and the healing circle switch was turned on, or the meter began running , I don’t know which. In a soft voice, Paul told us to relax and listen to the music he provided on a palm-sized cassette player. The sounds were of tinkling bells, loons, and wolves. Flutes, too. The Doctor began slowly speaking as the pretty New Age music washed over us. I felt silly to be sitting there, but had to see what this guy was all about. In a soothing voice, Paul told a terrible story about the sexual abuse he had suffered as a child. He asked us to introduce ourselves and share a story of a pain or a pattern of problems. When my turn came, I took a pass like at an AA meeting. Some people in the circle told sad stories, though. I felt sorry for them. Paul continued selling. Private healings were available for another fifty bucks. He was speaking softly as he muttered pop psychology phrases. Paul promised pendulums and crystals and more music for the private healings. The next morning I went back to where Paul the Ojibway was doing business. I wanted to let him know what I thought of what he was doing. The waiting room had one Norwegian man waiting for his turn to see the Doctor. He asked if I was Paul the Ojibway when I walked in. I told him no, I was Jim the Ojibwe. I opened the door to the room we had used in the healing circle. Paul the Ojibway was crouched over a Norwegian woman. She was flat on her back on the couch and Paul was holding a swinging pendulum over her abdomen. The crystal on the pendulum caught the light from the fake Christmas tree in the corner. The music was floating through. Ooops, barged...

Share