“It wasn't me,” said the child caught red-handed.

That's true – it wasn't me. I wasn't even born yet. Not until more than six decades after December 29, 1890.

But it was still my family name, on those guns the survivors called “Hotchkill.”

That hurt.

I needed to find peace.

So I sought a path of truth and healing. And found it, with gratitude.

A big thing happened recently, when belongings of the murdered came home. *

I emailed the reporter who wrote that article, to give her the correction that I was from Maine, not Maryland. And she asked me for an interview. Friends vouched for her.

She published it where Lakota people would see it, in the West River Eagle – “Relative of the inventor of rapid-fire gun used in Wounded Knee massacre apologizes, advocates for Native Americans,” and the Native Sun News Today – “Relative of Wounded Knee gun inventor apologizes.” *

This felt like a completion, and a new beginning.

Other good things are now happening. A Truth and Healing Commission on Indian Boarding School Policies is moving along in Congress. The effort to rescind Congressional Medals of Honor awarded for the Wounded Knee Massacre has found a new path. *

These steps are good to see. Many more must still be taken.

But – why apologize? Like I said, I wasn't even born yet. Even my inventor relative was no longer living, when his weapons were used in the massacre. Individualism tells us we are each only responsible for our own actions. Is that true?

I started out writing this, envisioning a helpful lesson to my fellow white settlers, to show a good way to decolonize and contribute to truth and healing. Maybe even generalize some useful principles, applicable to the present day. About the courage and gentleness to invite the truth in; how to do the patient, committed work of introspection and advocacy. About the urgency for people like me to shake the family tree, to see what falls out. About the need to stand up against atrocities, long ago and recent. About ending the cycle of intergenerational trauma.

I imagined all the words I would need to fully explain these things, how they would answer the “why?” question. As if I had timeless wisdom, easily imparted in words on a screen, at great length.

Or, is it self-evident?

Anyway, I don't feel wise. I'm just thankful that this path opened in front of me.

Maybe I can simply ask a few questions.

What have your ancestors or relatives done, or suffered?

How does that affect you?

If all of you were together in the same time and place, along with the victims or perpetrators and their descendants, what would you want to say, or do? What would you want the others to say or do? How does that feel?

May peace be with you.

* Both the West River Eagle and Native Sun News Today allow a few free views of their articles, and then they may ask you to subscribe. They have single-issue options.