Today,
I experienced the act of doing something that few white Americans will ever
have the chance to do. I sewed seal skin. It’s illegal for a white person to
possess seal skin, unless it has been made into something by a native. My
bright blue eyes and light blond hair hold no error for the judgment of my
race. Needless to say, I will never hold
the chance to create my own seal-skin item. But, I did happen to drift across a
very worn pair of seal-skin slippers. As we all know, I truly adore old things.
And so I took these ragged old things into my home. There were many holes and
tears. The leather is old. I believe they were created from scrap. For many
different kinds of seal are used. And I find them beautiful. So instead of
letting them waste away, I refurbished them. I grabbed my dull needle and old
thread and sewed them up. They don’t look new. The fur is still shedding and
they kind of smell of urine. Fortunately I don’t quite mind, and I’ll wear them
nevertheless. I’ll wear them until even their refurbished soles give way to my
wooden floors. And I’ll remember them for the action they gave me. The act of
doing something, typically only my Eskimo neighbors could do.
