I grew up going up north. We lived in Sheboygan and vacationed near Three Lakes on the Chain of Lakes. When I was 10 years old, one of my uncles said, "There’s a powwow at Lac du Flambeau on Thursday night and we’re gonna go. But I have to warn you about one thing. During the performance someone throws a silver tomahawk up into the stands and it lands in the heart of a white boy."

This was back in 1965 or 1966. My uncle had gotten to know and admired a fishing guide from Lac du Flambeau, who invited him to the powwow. He told me that I too might grow up to be a great fishing guide, which I did. The powwow was in the Indian Bowl in Lac du Flambeau and people were wearing regalia and dancing. Nobody ever threw that silver tomahawk up into the stands. But something was planted in my heart that night and it came to fruition nearly 20 years later.

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