"Aren’t we all doing this, if not all the time, at least some of the time? Aren’t we doing this now?"
I enjoy all of your posts, but sometimes you really get to the heart of it. It was great to meet you and talk in person, and my condolences once again. I'm sipping a diamond of bourbon myself. I'll have to try Baller; I'll admit the name turned me off, I mistook it for that bourbon - colored vodka for people who don't like whiskey but want to look like they are drinking whiskey.
There were carpenter bees flying in and out of holes in the yellow siding of the Mexican BBQ joint we ate at while we talked for four hours straight.
You take wonderful photos. I'm glad the birds joined you at Timbuctoo. And I'm glad it's well tended. It's history we can't afford to lose again.
Thomas, thank you. Sometimes -- a lot of the time actually -- I can't really tell when I press the post button whether I've gotten there or not, and it's wonderful to hear back from a writer I trust that, occasionally, I get there.
Cheers to you & your diamond of bourbon -- Baller is a completely obnoxious name, they really should change it, but I'll offer you a diamond of it if we share a drink together sometime, as I hope we will.
Going to Timbuctoo was amazing. I couldn't believe it was down this nondescript, unpaved road -- and I also loved the houses, which I'm guessing are owned by Black families who are descendants of the formerly enslaved and free Black people? There was a special feeling back there. Thanks so much for recommending it.
Wonderful post. And some interesting trivia re: that headstone for Charles H. Love. The sign says he received an "Indian Wars Medal" as a member of the Tenth Cavalry. Which means that was for chasing the Apaches in the SW, or, since he served all the way until 1894, most certainly my direct ancestors on the Northern Plains. History is a tangled, not ancient thing out here.
I hope you are hanging in there. I'm happy you and Thomas got to meet.
So unbelievably tangled. That's what gets me sometimes -- I don't know how you were taught history, but the way I was taught it, it was this dead thing, like a mangled fish washed up on the shore, so wrapped up in seaweed you're not quite sure what it is. And then, as I've grown older, through reading and conversations and insights from wise people like you, I've come to realize just what you say, that you can start to untangle the seaweed and identify the fish, and what's more, it matters what the fish is because the death of the fish echoes through our present. I'm just so grateful to start to understand how complicated everything is, and a little of how we got here, so thank you. Oh, and I'm very happy Thomas and I got to meet too.
History as dead thing, yes. And it's the complete opposite. It is a LIVING thing. Everything that has happened is still happening and that is something we have paid the price for in misunderstanding.
What I fight against, and sometimes err toward, is when talking about Indigenous people it's like we are a thing of the past – they DID this, they DID that – as opposed to we DO, etc. It's been a perspective resulting from how I was taught and that is daily struggle to overcome.
"Aren’t we all doing this, if not all the time, at least some of the time? Aren’t we doing this now?"
I enjoy all of your posts, but sometimes you really get to the heart of it. It was great to meet you and talk in person, and my condolences once again. I'm sipping a diamond of bourbon myself. I'll have to try Baller; I'll admit the name turned me off, I mistook it for that bourbon - colored vodka for people who don't like whiskey but want to look like they are drinking whiskey.
There were carpenter bees flying in and out of holes in the yellow siding of the Mexican BBQ joint we ate at while we talked for four hours straight.
You take wonderful photos. I'm glad the birds joined you at Timbuctoo. And I'm glad it's well tended. It's history we can't afford to lose again.
Thomas, thank you. Sometimes -- a lot of the time actually -- I can't really tell when I press the post button whether I've gotten there or not, and it's wonderful to hear back from a writer I trust that, occasionally, I get there.
Cheers to you & your diamond of bourbon -- Baller is a completely obnoxious name, they really should change it, but I'll offer you a diamond of it if we share a drink together sometime, as I hope we will.
Going to Timbuctoo was amazing. I couldn't believe it was down this nondescript, unpaved road -- and I also loved the houses, which I'm guessing are owned by Black families who are descendants of the formerly enslaved and free Black people? There was a special feeling back there. Thanks so much for recommending it.
Wonderful post. And some interesting trivia re: that headstone for Charles H. Love. The sign says he received an "Indian Wars Medal" as a member of the Tenth Cavalry. Which means that was for chasing the Apaches in the SW, or, since he served all the way until 1894, most certainly my direct ancestors on the Northern Plains. History is a tangled, not ancient thing out here.
I hope you are hanging in there. I'm happy you and Thomas got to meet.
So unbelievably tangled. That's what gets me sometimes -- I don't know how you were taught history, but the way I was taught it, it was this dead thing, like a mangled fish washed up on the shore, so wrapped up in seaweed you're not quite sure what it is. And then, as I've grown older, through reading and conversations and insights from wise people like you, I've come to realize just what you say, that you can start to untangle the seaweed and identify the fish, and what's more, it matters what the fish is because the death of the fish echoes through our present. I'm just so grateful to start to understand how complicated everything is, and a little of how we got here, so thank you. Oh, and I'm very happy Thomas and I got to meet too.
History as dead thing, yes. And it's the complete opposite. It is a LIVING thing. Everything that has happened is still happening and that is something we have paid the price for in misunderstanding.
What I fight against, and sometimes err toward, is when talking about Indigenous people it's like we are a thing of the past – they DID this, they DID that – as opposed to we DO, etc. It's been a perspective resulting from how I was taught and that is daily struggle to overcome.
I love you so much.
I love you too, Anne. And miss you. I hope I get to see you soon.