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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" href="http://www.knittingdaily.com/utility/FeedStylesheets/rss.xsl" media="screen"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:slash="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/slash/" xmlns:wfw="http://wellformedweb.org/CommentAPI/"><channel><title>Native American Traditions</title><link>http://www.knittingdaily.com/blogs/traditions_today/archive/2012/08/14/tbd-linda.aspx</link><description>When I was a third-grader in northeastern Oklahoma in 1950 near the Quapaw Agency, our school principal was a stern, handsome woman. I admired her long dark hair, usually worn up in a bun, and her vivid ruby lipstick; I admired her trim business suits</description><dc:language>en</dc:language><generator>CommunityServer 2008.5 SP2 (Build: 40407.4157)</generator><item><title>re: Native American Traditions</title><link>http://www.knittingdaily.com/blogs/traditions_today/archive/2012/08/14/tbd-linda.aspx#98283</link><pubDate>Tue, 14 Aug 2012 21:20:26 GMT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">44ce05d4-61e0-4251-b9ba-686eafad3c9f:98283</guid><dc:creator>ZassZ</dc:creator><description>&lt;p&gt;Linda Ligon, &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Yes and thank you for your article. &amp;nbsp;After all we are all related. &amp;nbsp;Wherever we travel, we always enjoy finding and visiting the area&amp;#39;s Native American Museums. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt;
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