> SB> I am *always*, however, a Cherokee princess,
KS> Your attempt at confusing the brain dead has been successful.
  > Attempts to undo it, will probably make matters worse.
I think the time has come for me to repost my story that explains how I
became a legitimate Cherokee princess.
CD Jeppensen posted the following on the RIME writers' conference.
I thought I would share it with you folks -- and then respond to it. (G)
"The Sunday Arizona Republic 10/30/94  had a front page story headlined
"Casinos luring non-Indians to tribes."  It starts out: "Native American
tribes have always attracted a certain number of "wannabe" Indians
seeking spiritual fulfillment."
"Now come those in search of more-worldly fulfillment: Money."
According to the article, nation-wide, the 91 tribes with gambling take
in $2.3 billion annually. The Ft. McDowell Apaches, with 851 members,
put part of their profits in their tribal fund and distribute $30,000.00
to each member annually.  Their casino is about 25 miles from downtown
Phoenix. They get several thousand calls each year from people trying to
join the tribe."
           MY REALLY  TRULY  TRUE LIFE STORY
                   by Sondra Ball
I learned something yesterday that may come as a surprise to all of you
here: I am really a Fort McDowell Apache.  Yes -- you heard me right.  I
know you've heard me muttering something on this board about belonging
to some other nation -- but last night I discovered the truth.  I want
you to know I'm not after the $30,000 a year that goes to each Fort
McDowell Apache tribal member or anything like that.  I just want to
establish my credentials -- become who I really am.
My mother handed me two books last night.  One was wrapped in old satin
and sealed with seven different seals.  The other had a dusty leather cover.
They had been passed down through the generations -- mother to daughter --
and had finally reached my hands.  I was the generation assigned to read
them.  I took them to my room and slowly unsealed, unwrapped, and opened
them.  On their pages lay the true story of my ancestry, which I will
now narrate to you.
In February, 1495, shortly after the current world was created to keep
Columbus from falling off the edge of the earth, Jeffrey Kills Many Bears,
a valiant Apache warrior, a mighty medicine man, and the son of a noble
chief, decided to go on a long journey to find the Atlantic Ocean.  He
had been told in a vision that he would find something of great value on
his journey, and that as a result of his journey, he would one day have
a descendent who would gain both great wealth and the throne of a
distant land.   As Jeffrey traveled over deserts, through the prairies,
across the Mississippi River, and into the Appalachian Mountains (which
only took a few days -- creation was still new and the Americas were
still expanding), he used his great powers to create a book to keep a
journal in.  Because of his vast visionary ability, he was able to
foresee the language his descendants would read, and so he wrote the
book describing his journeys in modern English.
As he entered the mountain regions of North Carolina, Jeffrey met a
beautiful woman.  She said her name was Laurel Laughing Waters, and that
she was a Cherokee princess, and the youngest daughter of the high king
of the land. Laurel invited Jeffrey to her father's tipi.  After several
moons, they were married.  Laurel wore a long white deer skin gown to
the wedding, and Jeffrey wore a brightly painted blanket woven from
buffalo hair.  I will not tell the entire story of their life together,
which is recorded in the book wrapped in satin, and which will soon be
published in its unedited form.  But Laurel and Jeffrey had several
children.  Their youngest daughter, Robin Early Morning, inherited her
father's ability to create paper and see the future.  Just before
Jeffrey died, he placed his book, full of small print, and wrapped in
satin, in Robin's hands, admonishing her not to open it.  It was to be
passed, untouched, from youngest daughter to youngest daughter, until
1995, when it could at last be opened.  Jeffrey also advised Robin to
create another book -- which should be written in by each succeeding
youngest daughter just before her death, giving a brief account of her
life, so that the records would be in order when the time came for the
pre-determined descendent to claim her rights.
In the leather bound book, the story of one life succeeded another.
Some women wrote only a few paragraphs.  Some wrote many pages.  They
were the usual tales of human existence:  tales of romance, of love, of
child bearing, of growing old, of dying.  Then, in 1542, the story took
an unexpected turn.  In that year, Sarah Golden Princess met and fell in
love with a young white man.  His name was Richard Stuart.  He was the
oldest son of King James IV of Scotland, conceived in a hidden marriage
that had been covered up by the king's court when he committed bigamy
and married Margaret Tudor of England.  Richard and Sarah married -- and
the line continued, down to the present day, and to me.
Today, I took the books to a world famous archaeologist, who verified
them to be real, valid, and truthful documents.  My lawyer has entered
the information in the proper legal places.  It is clear to him, and to
me, that I am both heir to the Scottish throne, and the rightful owner
of the McDowell Apache casinos.  I will be arriving on the reservation
early next week to have the deeds transferred to my name, after which I
will fly to Glasgow to assume the Scottish throne.
                         -30-
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 þ SLMR 2.1a þ It takes both the sun and the rain to make a rainbow.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.7x via O_QWKer 1.1
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