A picture is worth a thousand words!

This is picture of three of our tribal members, Irma Pequano, Mike Jackson and Elizabeth Hale.  All three are gone now.  I always liked this picture.  I had the utmost respect for Irma and Elizabeth and Mike was my friend for a long time.  I guess we're all lucky they invented cameras to preserve the good times we encounter in life.  From time to time, I will put pictures on my blog and tell you a little about them.  This picture belonged to Mike and I'm glad he shared it with me.

Basketball on a Wednesday night.

I came home from work thinking about the big game that night between Kansas University and Kansas State that would start at 7:00 p.m. I had in my mind the things I could do before the game and it mostly revolved around keeping my grandson, Pat ko Shuk, busy. I took him to the Boys and Girls club so he could swim and I later picked him up at 6:00. I thought I still have an hour to go and I didn’t want to sit in my favorite chair just yet, because I might fall asleep. I instead went to my daughter’s house where she invited me to have “wildcat” stew. It was good. And when I got back to my house, my wife had hamburgers ready and I ate those too. In this neck of the woods, you don’t tell your wife that you won’t eat her cooking - it just doesn't work that way.

I thought it would be good to be able to afford tickets to the big game, but most of us had to stay home and watch it on television, where there is something called replays. KU started out tough, they attacked the basket, made their free-throws and generally passed the ball well. They lacked that in the loss to Oklahoma State. I said before the game Sherron Collins didn’t have to do it by himself because there was a guy named X. Henry playing too. I think Henry could be a monster player if he was given the green light, but on a team of all-stars who need their points too, he has to show his greatness in spots.

Henry started out on fire and ended up with 19 points. Collins started out slow but was a big factor at the end. He had 17 points.  It was Collin’s last home-game at KU. I guess it got a little emotional at times for him. I always thought the kid from the streets of Chicago wouldn’t ever break down, but he did.I always thought the ghetto and/or politics toughened people up so much that tears were impossible.  I was wrong.

KU played some tough, tough defense. Much has been written about how KSU has the best two guards in the country but I disagree. I think KU has the best guards and can put four top-flight guards on the floor at once. That’s Collins, Taylor, Morningstar and Reed. KSU did get 42 points out their guards but not much from anybody else. When KU attacked the basket early this got KSU big men into foul trouble and they weren't much of a factor after that.

KU won 82-65. They were ready for Kansas State and it was a certain amount of redemption for the loss at Stillwater. Now it’s on to listen to those crybabies in Columbia Saturday. The real loser in this game besides KSU was the rest of the country. It was only televised locally. I guess ESPN didn’t think a #2 and a #5 team were worthy of their  coverage.  Poor decisions are made everywhere.  Oh, if KU stumbles and they don't win us a national championship again, we will live with it, but at least KSU didn't win on this night.

A road-trip for the Potawatomi

On occasion, it doesn’t hurt to reminisce about the past journeys of the Potawatomi. One such experience took place on September 21, 2004 when over 60 Prairie Band Potawatomi took part in the grand opening of the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington D.C. Most of the Potawatomi rode a chartered bus to Nations Capitol. The 2,000 mile round-trip wasn’t a magic carpet ride but enjoyable if a person likes to read or watch videos or just to rest.

The trip wound through Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Pennsylvania and we passed by old Civil War battlefields, into Washington, D.C. on the way there and back through West Virginia, and the Appalachian Mountains, Kentucky and through Missouri on the way back. Both were very scenic routes. Some of the land resembled Eastern Kansas, such as the many corn-fields, until the bus got into the Pennsylvania area where it seemed like it turned into a gigantic forest. The towns and highways seemed like they were carved out of the woods and were a testimony to man trying to conquer Mother Nature.

News reports said there were over 20,000 Indians in the parade and it well could have been that many. Most of the Indians there dressed in their traditional clothing. The Potawatomi women wore Indian dresses in our unique style and the men wore Indian shirts, vests and beaded medallions. Our veterans group We Ta Se and the tribal council led the Potawatomi through the long parade. They looked great and represented our tribe well.

It was interesting to see so many people lined up to watch the parade, many taking pictures of the Indians in the parade. Some people asked our group if they knew how to talk English, which we thought was funny.

The museum is four stories high and it’s near impossible to see all the 8,000 objects in a two hour tour. The entire collection has over 800,000 objects collected from North, Central, and South America. Many children were seen watching a small television screen, which told traditional tribal stories.

Some tribes were mad because they had very little represented there. Others were mad to see sacred drums and other objects displayed. Personally I thought there was little to represent how the Indian people lost their land, how the Indians were killed by the thousands and how our people were treated in the removal period. I always thought the Jewish people did it right when they built their museum. They displayed all the atrocities because they didn’t want the same thing to happen to their children and grandchildren. It’s early in the museum development and in time the whole story will be told at that level.

The next day, many of the Potawatomis went on tours to see the U.S. Capitol; The White House; and all of the veterans memorials. One amazing fact about D.C. is the extreme poverty and the large amount of homeless people living there. Some homeless people were seen eating out of trash-cans and sleeping on park benches - all of that in a city of such power and riches. It makes you wonder what the politicians think about this situation or even care, when they ride by in their limousines and fly by in their helicopters.

It was well worth the time to ride the bus, get lost on the subway twice, do all that walking, participate in the parade, to see some of the nation’s capital, but above all, it meant a lot to be part of such a grand event.

Sometimes you run into interesting people in life

In my younger days, I tried to become a serious baseball card collector and of signed baseballs. I used to go to baseball card shows with my brother Eddie, my nephew Clint and also made my daughter Martie go along with me at times, because that way, we could get 2 autographs instead of one. My other brother Larry did the same in the city of Minneapolis and we would exchange autograph baseballs. I had autographed baseballs from Mickey Mantle, Harmon Killebrew, Ted Williams, Willie Mays, Stan Musial, Johnny Bench, Brooks Robinson and many others. I shook hands with many of those people. I was in awe to see somebody like Mickey Mantle standing in front of me. It's hard to describe what it was to see a great man like that.

I thought I'd never experience that again, but did, after I got involved in tribal politics, and ran into some interesting, if not great, people on the tribal political road. In the 1980's, I had the distinct honor of meeting Roger Jourdain, Wendell Chino, and Joe De la Cruz at different times. They were in the twilight of their political careers, but they still had a bunch of fight in them. Their political delivery was close to the fire and brimstone preachers you once saw in old movies, but their message wasn't about the Lord, it was about Indian sovereignty. They were set in their ways and believed in defending the sovereignty of all tribes and didn't hesitate to voice their opinions on the subject at the local and national level. I guess, you could say they refused to slow-dance in the political fast-lane. I was impressed on how these old tribal leaders stood up for Indian rights. I was a fairly young guy then, and those old guys would go out of their way to introduce themselves and to shake hands with me. That, too, made an impression on me.

First of all I need to identify how I met these leaders. I jumped into the political fires of the Potawatomi Nation in 1986 and have survived until the present year of 2010, but it's best to go from day to day.When somebody says you have to have a thick skin to handle politics, rest assured they’re not lying to you. It seemed like the attacks start when you enter that political door and don't stop until you leave. Or maybe it's like  what Woody Guthrie said, "I'm going to stick around to see what the hell happens next."

During those earlier years, I finished the unexpired term of chairman after the position opened up because of a political upheaval. I didn't want to take the appointment because I was between college and graduate school and didn't know if I wanted to take time off from that. Eventually I gave in and accepted the position. In less than two weeks, I was on my way to Washington, D.C. for a Tribal Leaders Summit at the White House. There were 322 tribal leaders in attendance. It was a true honor for me to be part of the summit and to see so many leaders in one place. The newspapers said it was the first time a sitting president met with the Indian tribes since James Monroe did so in 1822. That day we rode buses to the White House, from the hotel and took a tour. We were escorted to a large tent in the Rose Garden, which is located on the south side of the White House, and were seated in sections.

After about an hour of waiting, President Bill Clinton, his wife Hillary and Vice-President Gore and his wife came out to sit on the stage. It was truly a magical moment to see the most powerful man walking out there to see the Indian leaders. The MC announced the agenda. It started with Chairman Wallace Coffey, in his tribal regalia complete with a war bonnet, singing an honor song. It was so impressive to see Coffey sing that song. I felt so proud to be an Indian and be to a part of that event. After this, several speakers spoke about Indian issues and then President Clinton addressed the crowd.

He may have been a much criticized leader, but for me, Bill Clinton was elevated to new heights that day. After all the speeches, he stood there and shook hands with all 322 tribal leaders. Some had on their tribal regalia and others had on business suits. I was in the latter group and still could kick myself for not wearing our tribal gear. Well, anyway, I stood in the line waiting to shake hands with the President and thought, "Oh, he's going to get tired of standing there and leave," but he didn't. I got closer and closer and could see the secret service personnel around him. One guy looked like a man you wouldn't dare mess with. He had that no-nonsense look about him - a cold, hard look with eyes that reminded me of that shark in "Jaws."

I finally made it to the front of the line and could only mutter, "I'm honored to meet you, Mr. President," and shook hands with the President of the United States and just like that, it was over. I know the old leaders in the 1800s met the President before, but up to that point I was the only Potawatomi leader in modern times to shake hands with a President. So this experience was similar to the accidental fame of a guy named Gump.

Back to the tribal road over the years I would meet Congressmen, BIA bureaucrats, and many other tribal leaders. I did the usual photo-ops and have them hanging up next to my children and grandchildren's pictures. Most of those experiences would be from National Indian conferences on gaming or politics, but not everyone was friendly like Chino, De La Cruz and Jourdain. Those guys had down to earth values and didn't act like they were better than others. Everyone wasn't like that because I've seen people with the titles that wouldn't  give you the time of the day.

In retrospect, meeting people like old baseball heroes, Roger Jourdain, Wendell Chino, Joe Del la Cruz, President Bill Clinton, and some modern leaders will always hold good memories for me. Anymore, in my old age, I rarely get impressed with anyone, but it did happen to me a time or two.

The Great Depression Hits Potawatomi Reservation

In the early days of the Potawatomi Tribe, long before the Europeans journeyed to the shores of this continent, stories about early history, culture and traditions were told over winter camp fires, which eventually became known as oral history and remain a strong part of the tribal culture. Stories of the Great Depression are a good example of contemporary oral history that are just now taking its rightful place around today’s “camp fires,” and are lessons to live by and to learn from by the many off-springs of these elders.

While the rest of the country spiraled into a severe economic down-turn in 1929, the Potawatomi, honed by a long hard history, made the necessary adjustments to survive. Years of hardship had taught the people on the reservation to depend on important survival skills, such as an ability to improvise, but not to be overlooked were a few welcome federal work programs, that became the key to managing in a severe economic period of this country.

Inner strength and character would help the people on the reservation cope with the trauma of the times. Thus, while the world fell apart around them, the people on the reservation did what they had to do to survive. Adversity has a way of building character and this became evident as the years rolled by for the Potawatomi people.

Surviving the Great Depression was just one chapter in the life of the Potawatomi people for a long eventful history had preceded this event but a history that had done a fair job in preparing the tribe for this moment in time.

Many of the people on the reservation wrote down their expenses, income, deaths, and the recording of the arrival of new babies in little journals or ledger books. This, along with oral history provides an insight on how the Potawatomi lived in those trying times. The Potawatomi have long depended on the wisdom and advice of their tribal elders and this enabled this story to be told for the first time.

Human suffering became a reality for millions of Americans as the depression continued. Thousands lost their homes because they could not pay the mortgage. In 1932, at least 25,000 families and more than 200,000 young people wandered through the country seeking food, clothing, shelter, and a job. Many youth traveled in freight trains and lived near yards in camps called hobo jungles. While this happened to many other Americans, the Potawatomi generally stayed on or near the reservation. A key to staying was the ability to improvise.

In one family journal, for instance, it reveals how Hattie Lasley sold chickens, hens, and one rooster for a pittance to buy food for her family. She sold bushels of potatoes, tomatoes and even helped cut wood for the local farmers. And like so many during this era, she worked a small farm, but it was just enough to make a living.

Luther Wahwasuck, an elderly Potawatomi man, recalled his experience, “I was just in my teens. Around home, we had a helluva time and it was hard to do anything to make money. We had to eat hard-tack, a hard cracker, squirrel, rabbit, turtle and had to put up food for future use. We did quite a bit of trapping and skinned out the animals and took them to Topeka and with this money, we would buy .22 ammunition for hunting and Bull Durham.” He remembered that even before the Depression, there was no money for Potawatomis to lose. So they never learned to distrust banks like so many others in America who lost money when they failed. He also related how the Indian people often had no cars, but did have horse and buggies and wagons. There was no electricity or running water in most homes and many people died of tuberculosis.

One important factor was that people helped each other. They had wood-cutting crews that went from home to home to help each other. In return, they would receive meals and a place to stay for the night. An arrangement such as this worked out for everyone.

To compound the economic problems, the entire state experienced a severe drought to compound the existing economic conditions and was generally considered the worst in Kansas history. In the year 1934, in Topeka the daily temperatures averaged 102.5 for the month of July and reached 119 on July 13 in the town of Lincoln. Temperatures topped the century mark for 64 of 92 days during June, July, and August. These readings of between 105-110 degrees were commonplace during 1934. Another Depression-era summer, 1936, ranks as the second-hottest in Kansas history. It seemed like everything bad happened at once for the people of that time. The reservation was described as seared landscape, hardened top and subsoil’s, and dried up the wells from which the reservation population drew its water. “The weather was so dry that we had to dig a hole in the creek bottom so our livestock would have water to drink” said Jane Pukkee, 85 years at the time of this writing. The only recourse for the few farmers on the reservation was to sell the livestock or having to about give them away. The shortage of water was that bad. Puckkee recalled how they hauled water great distances, but first had to remove all the dirt from around the well. Water shortages were critical to the 800 people living on the reservation who depended extensively on their gardens. Additionally to compound the problems of the drought, a grasshopper invasion occurred during 1936 and decimated many gardens on the reservation.

For a people who had large gardens before all of these natural disasters, vegetables became scarce and people lacked food they normally had. They started each planting year with hopes of a good garden and would work early in the morning or late in the evenings and stayed in their homes during the torrid day-time conditions.

Severe droughts and dust storms hit parts of the Midwest and Southwest during the 1930s. The afflicted region became known as the Dust Bowl, and thousands of farm families there were wiped out. Many people left this area, but the Potawatomis made the best of a bad situation.
Men working on WPA (Works Progress Administration) planted small trees for eventual shelter-belts all over the reservation, that are still present today, to try and control these dust storms. They would also serve as wind-breaks, helped in erosion control and eventually a place to cut wood. Potawatomi men tried to control the dust storms that came by planting small trees for eventual shelter-belts all over the reservation. The trees served as wind-breaks to help control soil erosion.

In other parts of the country, many farmers refused to ship their products to market. They hoped a reduced supply of farm products would help the price of these goods. These tactics didn’t usually work and poor crop years greatly affected the Potawatomi who chose farming. In fact, unfavorable crop years caused the demise of the Indian farmer. The livestock losses, worn out machinery, dilapidated buildings led to almost a total liquidation of this lifestyle on the reservation. Farm failure, hastened by the Depression, also was caused by lack of diversification.

Reservation farmers succumbed to the one-crop system of producing corn for sale directly to market. Some like Francis Shopteese, remained determined and persisted in farming despite several years of crop failures. But these surviving farmers were usually the exception. Some alternatives to bad crop years during the Great Depression on the Potawatomi Reservation were subsistence farming. Tribal members raised chickens, milked cows and grew gardens when possible. This approach made the difference and served as a survival mechanism for many Potawatomi families. Additionally, hunting of wild game, a popular pastime on the reservation, then and now, helped in trying times. The standard method of hunting was to go out during the daytime to look for tracks. Then, at night, the hounds were let loose. A hunt often took all night and there were many unsuccessful nights. Raccoons were so scarce that when hunters did get one, it brought $25.00. Minks brought between $32.00 and $40.00, but they too were scarce.

Another form of recreation was centered around a place called “Big Soldier Playground” located near Big Soldier Creek. Here tribal members gathered to swim and have picnics. The children played on swings, played croquet and raced in 50 yard dashes.

A steady line of work would come to the reservation in the form of programs like the Works Progress Administration (WPA) and the Civilian Conservation Corp (CCC). They became the main work programs on the reservation during the Great Depression.

One such project was the Potawatomi community building completed and dedicated on February 16, 1941. The cost of the building was about $8,546.15. Richard Pahmahmie, Sr. recalled hauling native stone from Big Soldier Creek for the project. Coraline Potts described how the barter system worked: In exchange for the native stone extracted from various tribal members’ lands near Big Soldier Creek, the government would terrace their land, thus improving it for future rent. This way, both parties benefited. The community building turned into a 36 by 60 foot building used for many tribal gatherings such as political meetings, funerals, social events like Pow Wows, dances, weddings and other tribal functions. Before this, tribal events were held at the homes of tribal members. Men worked on these projects part-time, because most projects were shut down during the summer grain harvest and again during inclement winter months.

The Bureau of Indian Affairs had an unusual requirement for the men working full-time. It required them to save half their wages to buy food during the winter layoff period. This wasn’t a bad strategy, but it was an example of the tight control the bureau had over Indian people’s lives.

While the building programs did benefit the tribal members by providing needed work and housing, some of the Bureau of Indian Affairs management tactics were deplorable. The superintendent at the time, H.E. Bruce, maintained control over who worked on the WPA projects. For example, if a tribal member was reported drunk in town or on the reservation, he would be suspended from work for a set number of days or even indefinitely.

One way Potawatomi families saved on living expenses was to send their children off to government boarding schools established by the bureau in places like Seguoyah, Chillocco, and Pawnee, Oklahoma. Other children went to South Dakota and Genoa, Nebraska. This had detrimental effects on the tribal members who went through the boarding school experience. Some students lost their language and were even punished for practicing their native tongue or culture.

While the Depression was an aberration in the lives of the people on the Potawatomi reservation, the introduction of more government rules and regulations was no mere aberration.

My Grandchildren

These are my grandchildren:  From left to right:  Luis "Hooty"Ortiz.  I've called him Hooty since he was a baby.  When he was young, there was a hurricane that hit the South called Luis.  We had no word for Hurricane in Potawatomi so I asked this Mexican guy how to say it in his language.  He said "uh duh kon" (sorry for butchering the words) and in time he became known as Hooty.  Hooty is a freshman at Royal Valley High School.

Nyeh was keh is my oldest grandson.  When he was a baby he cried a lot until he got his Indian name and then he calmed down a bunch.  They would play pow-wow songs for him and that calmed him down too.  Nyeh was a top dancer and when he was just a little guy, he would go dance for Maynard and Coraline his great grandparents.  They sure enjoyed watching him. His other grandfather, Troy, taught him how to lead stomp dances. He graduated from Kickapoo Nation School and is a singer with a good voice and is picking up the songs well.  He is working now but we want him to go to school somewhere and I'm sure he will in time. 

"Kek kah kweh" or Kek was born on the day the Oklahoma City bombing took place in 1995 so out of that came life.  She had the most hair I ever saw on a baby and she was such a fragile baby.  Now she is a freshman at Royal Valley High School and has no interest in sports but she helps by being a manager on the baskeball teams.  I never pushed our kids and always left it up to them in this regard.  She volunteers for everything and is a licensed babysitter.  Kek won an award for her "Native Youth Outstanding Volunteer Work for the Health Initative Program 2009.'

I have wrote about my oldest granddaughter Tara on several occasions.  She was a top-of-the-line basketball player who accomplished a lot.  I'm proud of what she did and getting all those all-league awards was something I could never do, so she made up for that.  Now she is in sunny California where her husband is in the United States Marine Corp, and she will someday migrate back toward the middle of the country. She also does some outstanding beadwork.  Tara and her Mom work at this constantly and do some really good work.  Beading is still done here and something we haven't had to outsource to China yet.

The guy on the far right is "Pat ko shuk" and he is my youngest grandson but I call him "my boy."  I teach him prayer words, the words I learned from my mother, father-in-law and my aunt.  I feel so good to hear him learn so quickly.  He prays every night before we go to bed and I told him last night "your grandma Alberta would have felt so good to hear you pray" and she would have, but he can sure be a bad boy at times. too.  He is 9 years old.

I'm so thankful I lived this long to see my grandchildren get to this stage of life.

Jerry Tuckwin, teacher, mentor, coach

Nothing seems simple growing up on an Indian reservation as Jerry Tuckwin's early life experiences will show.

His parents, Louis and Elizabeth Tuckwin lived on the reservation for many years. They raised ten children, including Jerry who was born February 14, 1942 on a cold, windy, snowy night. The family eventually moved to nearby Mayetta, but eight months later a tragedy changed the Tuckwin family's life's forever.

Louis Tuckwin had grown tired of cutting wood for many years so he bought a new kerosene stove, but one day while lighting the new contraption, it blew up. The subsequent fire burned up both Lewis and Elizabeth Tuckwin, along with their daughter Patty. It could have been far worse if Jerry's brother, Brub (Lyle), and sister, Moke (Mercedes) hadn't got Jerry and his brother, Tom, out of the house. April 23, 1949 proved to be a devastating time for the Tuckwin family.

Out of this adversity, the remaining family did everything they could to stay together and make it as a family. For instance, Jerry's older brothers Paul and Mitch, worked for local farmers, his brother Brub went to high school in Delia, two older sisters went to Marty Indian School in South Dakota where Jerry would soon follow. They eventually moved in with Mage and Jane Puckee.

One day his sister Moke and Floyd “Pink” Patterson drove him to Marty Indian School. They stopped and had a chicken dinner, Jerry recalled, and he thought it was all fun. After arriving in South Dakota, Pink Patterson gave him a silver dollar, and he went to a movie at the school. After the movie was over, both of his relatives were gone. He again was devastated. A lonely, empty feeling came over seven-year old Jerry, but he had no choice but to adjust to the new environment. Sometimes adjustment meant taking his fair share of corporal punishment, a typical experience for an Indian at a boarding school.

That Christmas, his brother Mitch, Mage and Jane Puckee came to visit him. What they saw disturbed them. Jerry was in a raggedy condition. Mitch said to the school officials, "We sent him a winter coat and where is it?" They answered that they didn't want one kid to have more than another. Mitch angrily told them that it was wrong to treat kids like animals and promptly loaded Jerry up in their vehicle and took him home. Jerry recalled staying at a hotel in Yankton, South Dakota on the way home where he was able to clean up.

Jerry remembers the positive influence Mage Puckee had on his life. Mage was a teacher at one of the one-room school houses on the reservation and would make Jerry read, Newsweek and, tell him what he remembered from his reading. Jerry said at the age of nine he had made up his mind that he would follow in the teaching steps of this man. Later this was reinforced by another teacher, Tony Coffin. Another factor in his teaching ambition was watching how hard his brothers had to work and how their hands were split and bruised. Jerry decided there was something else out there, which for him was teaching.

Both Mage and Jane Puckee told Jerry how important it was to put his mind, heart and intelligence into everything he did and only then would it be possible to accomplish something in his life. They implored him to get an education because with an education he had choices without it he would only be able to settle for far less.They not only taught him the value of learning and the possibilities of an education, but instilled the importance of religion in his life. His Aunt Jane told him over and over that if he had faith and spirituality in his life he would have everything. She also stressed to him how important it was to respect all religions. Jerry remembered those words many times in future days and years.

After going to school locally, Jerry went to Haskell, when it was a high school at age 14. It was hard for Jerry, then because he didn't weigh very much, which, led to other students picking on him that caused confrontations. Despite this, he made straight A's, and, settled into a fairly consistent pattern with school for nine months and going home in the summer to work for local farmers. He graduated from Haskell.

From there, Jerry went to the University of Wichita (called Wichita State today) on a track scholarship. His room, board and books were paid for by scholarship, but he had to pay for his meals. Back then, Jerry didn't have financial assistance from the Bureau of Indian Affairs or the Tribe, but because of his summer earnings, he was able to eat. His first year in college was one of personal turmoil. Jerry thought people were prejudiced toward him, but after a time he realized it wasn't true. Once again, he came to terms with those difficult feelings and adjusted as so many times in the past. Jerry said college was a great learning experience. He graduated in 1964. A man named Tommy Ward from the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Anadarko, Oklahoma sent him $100 in his last year, which helped him buy his cap and gown. This was the only assistance he received during his college days. He had made it on his own.

Jerry said there were 28 relatives who came to his graduation. Jerry said one person who didn't make it was Bud Onzawah. Jerry had fond memories of Bud. When he was a young boy, Bud would bring milk, eggs and a loaf of bread to his house and Jerry really wanted him at this graduation that year because of this positive experience from his youth.

For a time, he taught at Desoto Public Schools and Haskell Institute where he coached men's basketball. Jerry enlisted in the United States Air Force in 1966. He was stationed at San Antonio, Texas; Champaign, Illinois; Tucson, Arizona and went to Vietnam in 1968. Jerry also married the former Terry Maupin during the early part of his military career. She proved to be an anchor during hard times for him then and now.

While in Vietnam, he served in a reconnaissance unit and was amazed at the capabilities of the pilots and their planes when they went out on patrol. On these trips, the pilots were able to take pictures of enemy movements and bases. The technology was so advanced that they could take a picture of dog tag on a soldier from afar.

Jerry said one day at Bien Hoa Air Base the white soldiers hollered at him "Hey Chief Tuckwin there's a Potawatomi chief here to see you," and Curtis Masquat, Jr. walked up. They got to spend an afternoon together visiting. Curtis Paul was in the U.S. Army and this visit gave him time to clean up and go to the mess hall where he wanted to drink milk. He had read that Jerry was there from a Haskell paper. Soon after, Curtis left to go back to his unit, but for a brief time he was able to visit with a fellow Potawatomi in a far off land. But not all times were so positive. One night around 2 a.m. a rocket attack hit their base. The initial attack and its force pinned Jerry up against a wall, and he could hear the other men crying and screaming. There was fire, and it seemed like his life flashed before him. Jerry was to see his brothers and sisters again, but he made up his mind that he wasn't going to die in that fire like his family had many years before. He prayed to God to show him the way and was able to get to a bunker 50 yards away. He left the military in July of 1970.

Jerry went back to Haskell in August of 1970 and stayed there for 32 years. He enjoyed coaching, assisting with the development of students and athletes and seeing them mature physically, socially and intellectually. It was rewarding to be around Indian people who could laugh even in the most troubling times. He said they had a more relaxed approach to life and appreciated the little things of life.

There were disappointments, too. He saw many with so much talent and potential but for some reason or another didn't realize it. Maybe some lacked desire, or maybe there were extenuating circumstances and some had to go home and work and to support their families. It bothered him to see such talent go to waste.
During his long teaching and coaching careers, Jerry received many awards, but he saw himself as a little person who didn't need headlines and only wanted to help others find a better way. His advice to young people over the years was to work hard enough to achieve something and then work harder. If something fails, go back to the basics, because people can do more if they try harder.

His lessons didn't stop with students at Haskell he had to learn some from within. In the summer of 2005 Jerry lost an invaluable asset to his life. Jane Puckee died that summer. She was a woman who was fluent in the Potawatomi language (her Indian name was "Ah no mo kweh" - a name that once belonged to her grandmother). Despite her 96 years, she stayed extremely alert and could recall Indian names and stories from long ago. It was a traumatic time again for Jerry. This woman was a stabilizing force in his life, and now she was gone.

A week later, it was a hot 90 degree day, but Jerry still played nine holes of golf and came home tired and not feeling right. In times such as these events happen fast, and before he knew it he fell to the floor. His wife Terry called 911 and administered CPR until the ambulance got there four minutes later. They pronounced him dead at one point, but experts helped to jolt him back into this world. Jerry was semi-conscious for three days. When he awoke, the recovery process was hard. Before his heart attack, Jerry did everything on his own. Now, he had to depend on his wife, Terry, for help in doing even the simple things in life. It was a time of total dependence - something Jerry had never experienced before. It was a time to overcome adversity again.

He often wondered why God had spared his life and is still trying to figure that out. Jerry thought that it was meant for him to spend more time with his wife, his children Shannon and John and his four grandchildren. As so many times in his life, Jerry once again depended on his faith and a belief in God and prayer has worked in his recovery process. Jerry Tuckwin deserves more time to contribute to the lives of Indian people. His life serves as an example of great triumph and grace in times of great adversity.