After Clinton took office, his administration instituted several initiatives to mandate ‘cultural diversity’ within the federal government. Well, fine…
After a while it occurred to one of their ‘college boys’ that they had missed bringing cultural diversity to the AF Reserves. Holy Crap! So, a message went out to all Reserve units telling them to look at their respective cultural demographics – and if they were not in compliance with the new standards, to immediately offer positions to qualified minorities.
As it turned out, in this one unit there was a pilot who claimed he was 1/64th Indian. And he had been trying to get an “ART” (Air Reserve Technician, e.g., full time) slot for years. Upon hearing this new policy, this pilot headed straight for Personnel, with his supporting documentation, and was immediately propelled ahead of other applicants, and given a coveted ART slot. Well, fine…
Upon hearing this, the guys in the Squadron thought, “Okay, since he is claiming Native American heritage, it’s only fitting that he have an Indian call sign.” And they gave him the call sign: “Major Two Dogs.”
As it was two hundred years or so ago, there were these two Indian boys out playing when they began to wonder how they were given their names. They consequently asked one of their fathers, who in turn, sent them to the tribal medicine man.
The tribal medicine man told the two boys, “When a woman is about ready to being a new child into the world I join her in her lodge – and sit, and pray with her during her labor and delivery. After the child is born, I will burn sweet grass, bless the child, then head outside. I then take time to glance around Mother Earth for inspiration for a name – and will usually name the child for the first thing that comes to mind. For example; Soaring Eagle, Running Brook, Dancing Deer and so forth.”
The medicine man hesitated for a moment in reflection, and then looked at the boy with all the questions and asked, “Why all the interest now, Two Dogs Fucking?”
People occasionally ask what ‘Major Two Dogs’ thought of his new name. It doesn’t matter, and if he were to “carp” about it, it would only get worse. This is just the way it is (or was) in our culture.
When I first heard the story, I laughed like hell. The subject pilot had been in my squadron years before, and he was ‘fine.’ All his landings equaled his takeoffs. One day, while at altitude with Northwest Airlines, I heard an aircraft from his reserve squadron check on. When the radios got quiet, I asked if ‘Major Two Dogs’ was on board. There was silence, followed by chuckles. I can only imagine the comments when the guys got back to their squadron…LOL!