We lost another strong Indian woman this week, my good friend and colleague, Minnie Two Shoes. Minnie was a journalist and a strong presence in the Twin Cities American Indian community. She pressed me into service a few months ago to help her plan this summer’s Native American Journalists Association conference in St. Paul. She said those magic words she knew would work with me: “Come over to the Circle office. There’ll be food. Ehhhhhhh.” The first meeting I attended started with frybread from the Wolves Den (the best in town) and Minnie’s own buffalo stew and wojapi. I ate and laughed until I couldn’t see straight. She had me at frybread.

NAJA just won’t be the same without Minnie, her laugh, her energy, her wisdom, her presence. But we should all be comforted by the fact that a new generation of native reporters, writers, photographers and artists has been nurtured by her love, strength and passion for telling our stories in our own words.

I’m going to miss you like hell Minnie. Much love and safe journey to the Creator.