A few years ago, I went back home to Kansas for a wedding. At the reception, I was dancing with my dad's father, my Papa Jack, whose life remains to be more of a mystery to me than anything. He's not much of a talker, so I was surprised and thrilled that as we danced together that night, that I found him in the mood to chat. I've never heard anything about my great grandmother, his mother. I'm someone who wants to hear endless stories about my grandparents. I love hearing about how life used to be, so different- it fascinates me. As the music played, our hands intertwined, he told me about my great grandmother, a Blackfoot Indian. I remember a feeling of pride and honor hitting me as I learned my great grandmother, who I never knew was an Indian. I also remember my grandfather making a point that back then, it was something shameful to be married to an Indian and that he didn't grow up proud to have a mother who was an Indian. I made these pictures for my great gra