As a teenager I admired “The Foxfire Book” and a string of sequels, a cross between oral history and how-to guide about rural life. The books have a unique “voice” — plain-spoken, pragmatic and evocative of American traditions of hard work in the company of good neighbors.

More specific to our corner of the country, George W. Aguilar, Sr.’s “When the River Ran Wild! Indian Traditions on the Mid-Columbia and the Warm Springs Reservation,” came out 20 years ago but still deserves attention. Aguilar himself has reached the goodly age of 95.

Aguilar is a Kiksht Chinookan who has been a soldier, a fisherman, transient field worker, timber faller, carpenter, service station retailer, auto mechanic and blackjack dealer. In “When the River Ran Wild!” Aguilar demonstrates a nuanced memory, a wry sense of humor and a genuine gift for writing. All Northwest people can feel a sense of pride at his accomplishment, but Indian people especially owe Aguilar their thanks for recording a now mostly vanished lifestyle centered on the formerly great free-flowing fishing grounds of the Columbia River’s Five Mile Rapids.

“When the River Ran Wild!” is loaded with interesting facts about Indian history and practices, and studded with little gem-like stories about growing up around the Warms Springs Reservation in the mid-20th century.

Pull Quote

‘I impatiently looked forward to the time we would be leaving this God-forsaken wasteland of a reservation that had no running water, no electricity, no indoor plumbing, decrepit housing — you name it, the Warm Springs Reservation didn’t have it.’

George W. Aguilar, Sr.

Aguilar doesn’t paint a deceptively pretty picture. At one point in the 1950s, Aguilar and his wife Ella unsuccessfully applied for a federal relocation program that would have moved them to a big city.

“I impatiently looked forward to the time we would be leaving this God-forsaken wasteland of a reservation that had no running water, no electricity, no indoor plumbing, decrepit housing — you name it, the Warm Springs Reservation didn’t have it.” With a tribal job, Aguilar eventually obtained financing to buy a brand-new Ford Fairlane 500 in 1958 — but then hid it behind the house, ashamed of having such a thing when many tribal members hardly had enough to eat.

Writing of an early-childhood shopping trip to town with his grandmother, Aguilar recalls “I watch a couple of children each drinking a bottle of soda pop. Grandma must have noticed me, for she nudged me and asked me in Indian if I wanted some of what they were drinking. I was overwhelmed with curiosity about what the taste would be like, because it looked so good.

“With my response of ‘Ee,’ which means yes in Indian, she dug around in her waist-carrying purse, retrieved an Indian-head nickel, and bought me a bottle of strawberry soda pop. I was awestruck by its bright, yummy-looking color.” But he wasn’t expecting the bubbles, which went straight up through his nose, and it was three or four years before he tried this treat again.

Along with items like preparation instructions for ground squirrel — “burn off the animal’s hair in an open fire, dress it out, and skew and roast it over the fire” — Aguilar passes along intriguing stories remembered from childhood. An example: Tom Nye, teased as being “Palai,” or “not quite there,” kept toppling into the river while fishing at Celilo Falls. Only much later did Aguilar learn Nye’s guardian spirit was a river otter. “Nye knew when and who was going to drown in those turbulent waters, and he had the gift of taking that individual’s place.” True? Who knows, but it makes a warm story.

Revisiting his childhood home, Aguilar found “only silence. The memories remain, but the echoes of the canyon are calm. No children play in the springwater pools. No sweathouse fires heat the rocks. No deer hides are soaking. No buckskin tanning. No wheat or hay growing. The fields are now teeming with juniper trees where the golden heads of wheat once swayed to the whispers of the wind.”

Aguilar’s journey through life has been worthwhile and quietly remarkable. I appreciate him sharing it with us.