Navajo Folk Artist Bernie Todacheeny
Bernie scours the country side, looking for that odd root, trunk, or branch that speaks to his artistic sense. It is not unusual for him to be found on a wind swept, sand blasted, sun baked mesa top, dragging a gnarled and twisted snag toward his latest mode of transportation. I say this because Bernie changes vehicles almost as fast as other folks change their shoes. A slight exaggeration no doubt, but we have seen him drive up in a Jeep, a Toyota pickup, and a Harley Davidson motorcycle in the last few months alone. Whatever it takes to appropriate his precious carving stock, Bernie will do. Nothing stops him. Mailmen cannot hold a candle to Bernie's determination.
Not long ago Steve and I were busily going about our trading post duties when over the phone intercom comes the message "Steve or Barry, Bernie is on the line." At the same time both of us said, "You take it." It's not that we don't like to talk to Bernie; you just have to gear up for a conversation with the guy. Steve was standing closest to the phone so he drew the short straw. He braced himself and picked up the phone. I could tell that Steve was intrigued with the conversation. Bernie had his interest; trouble was looming on the horizon. I began flagging Steve off, mouthing, "Don't do it, hang up the phone, and danger Will Robinson." No use, Steve had bought into whatever Bernie was selling.
Steve was reaching for his wallet, removing his credit card. Doom, despair, and agony on me; the end was near. After Steve gave away the top secret information and hung up the phone I said, " You have got to be out of your mind. What was that all about ?" “Bernie is in Albuquerque,” he said. “At a rare wood store, he found a piece of Honduran Mahogany that he feels would make a nice carving.”
"I'll bet," I said. "How much was it ?"
"It was only $150.00" said Steve. “I figured that Bernie needed a break. He was very excited about that piece of wood, and it was worth it seeing you perform the dance of the sugar plum fairy trying to get my attention."
After a few choice phrases referring to his origin and upbringing, I walked away. My parting shot was, "My bet is that you will live to regret it."
A few weeks later, after all had not been forgotten, Bernie came screaming in on his "Hawg" with a carving strapped to the back. Generally there would be a lady perched there, as Bernie has a major weakness for the female gender. Bernie hopped off his Harley Davidson motorcycle, unstrapped the bundle and came bounding up the stairs in the most jovial of moods. In his most theatrical David Copperfield manner, he unveiled a gorgeous wooden woman, carved of, you guessed it, Honduran Mahogany. The sculpture truly was magnificent. I was going to have to eat crow on this one. Oh well, better to take it like a man and move on, Steve had a look of gloating in his eye. I knew that I was in for some needling.
Negotiations were long and arduous, as they always are with Bernie. The man is articulate, intelligent, and just plain funny. He was proud of his accomplishment and figured he should be well compensated for the undertaking. I let Steve do the deal. I sat in the corner and nursed my bruised ego. After the transaction had been accomplished, which included Bernie paying back the $150.00 for the wood, Steve asked for the credit card receipt. Bernie got this sly smile on his face, fished in his wallet and handed over the slip of paper. Becoming suspicious, Steve opened the receipt and gasped, "$600.00! How did you ? What the....? You're a dead man!”
Bernie simply laughed as he departed, saying, "They had lots of great wood there. You know I'll pay you back."
As Bernie zoomed away, my eyes locked with Steve's. "Don't say a word," he said.
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