Troublesome Territory

Dave and I are enjoying retirement. Our little RV gives us the chance to hit the road and explore some of the places we've always wanted to see. Our first adventures took us west to National Parks and through some beautiful scenic places. We've been up to South Dakota and this winter down to Texas and New Mexico trying to escape the 2014 Polar Vortex.

Each time we go, we are drawn into American history and the tales of western expansion - and of Native American displacement. Some of the places we've visited leave a bittersweet taste in my mouth or a little bit of an ache in my heart. It's long-ago history, but as I visit the places that used to "belong" to our Native American neighbors some of what I see/read/learn does bother me and sticks in my mind.

In 2013 we visited the wonderful Buffalo Bill Center of the West in Cody, Wyoming. The artwork, relics and collection were amazing. One wall shared quotes from famous Native American Chiefs - and the one that hit me the hardest was (I think) from Chief Joseph saying "The White Man made many promises to the Indian and kept only one: we will take your land." Then this year I found this amazing painting at an art museum in Santa Fe entitled "Safe in Her Own Land"…. and as I gazed at the image I remember thinking, "Not so much…..she wasn't safe".

The little I know about Native Americans and their views on land ownership seems to show that they had a different view - no one "owned" the land. They used it with gratitude, moving with the seasons and gathering it's bounty….they lived with the land. They had done so successfully for hundreds if not thousands of years before our European ancestors came charging in claiming "Manifest Destiny".  I'm not saying Native American customs were perfect and didn't include wars and land-grabs, but their societies were well established and cultures deep rooted in the land where they lived and had been working for them for generations. Conquering white men had no respect for this, few tried to understand or build bridges between the old and the new…..our forefathers saw it as their right to take the land, and they did….from sea to shining sea.

Then, while traveling home earlier this month, we drove through Oklahoma. We were on the highway and it was too early in the almost-spring for trees to be in leaf, but grass was greening. I expected Oklahoma to be flat and un-interesting, but the land stretching out north and south of the highway was beautiful. Rolling hills, open plains, then trees, some ravines and rivers to cross. But then I began to notice signs along the highway that really began to bother me. We'd pass a sign saying something like "Entering Citizen Cherokee Territory"….and a few miles later "Leaving Citizen Cherokee Territory".  The next one might be "Entering Citizen Shawnee Territory"….and then leaving. This went on and on - every few miles it seemed. Ottowa, Kickapoo, Pawnee. It turns out my guidebook states "With 39 tribes headquartered in Oklahoma and their native heritage on display throughout the state, 'okla-homma' (which means 'red people' in Choctaw) remains true to its name."

Just how did 39 tribes get to be "headquartered" here? Tribes from all over America were forced to leave their homes and move to what would one day become Oklahoma. Never mind their traditions, never mind that the land here did not support their customary ways of living…. never mind.

It just bothers me…. just a personal opinion…..but it still bothers me.

A Little Reconnection

It's funny how paths cross and then sometimes "re-cross" years later. Unexpected events bring people into your lives, then they drift out and may come back into it years later.

Growing up in Park Ridge, Illinois I had two very special friends that I met in junior high school and continued to pal around with during high school. Karen, Barb and I lived close enough to walk to each other's houses, sharing interests and free time. After graduation we all went to different colleges - I went off to a small school in Wisconsin….one went to a small school in Minnesota and the other to a small school in Missouri. (Maybe the small school selections were partly a result of attending a high school with 4,000 students!)

We saw each other once in awhile over summer vacations during the college years, but drifted apart. Marriage, family, careers, moves…... our friendships faded into memory.

Facebook re-connected us.  Friend number one responded when I publicized the fact that my mother's house in Park Ridge was for sale. Barb came to an open house with her son and daughter-in-law and they ended up purchasing it! So I re-connected with her through this process and saw her for the first time at my mom's house for a walk-through. How odd - and how pleased my mom would have been - she always had a soft spot in her heart for this high school pal.

And, after more than forty-six years I just saw my second long-lost friend….stopping at Karen's to  visit with her on our way back from a trip to the Southwest. She and her husband live in St. Louis so we ended up spending one night with them. We parked our RV in front of her house, she walked out the door and we hugged on the sidewalk - smiles all around. Memories came back, laughter and conversation. It really was fun.

We'll never be as close as we were during those teen-age years but the goal now is for all three of us to get together for lunch somewhere around Chicago. Drifting back…..closing a gap…..remembering and sharing. Some of the best parts of any friendship. I look forward to  future lunch!

A Not-So-Terrific-Book…but…..

I just finished reading a spy novel….not sure I should give the title or credit the author because frankly it wasn't that good a read. But once I got into it I just figured I would finish. Can't say I would recommend it. Written in 2007, the author has several others in this genre.

Set in the Middle East there were a few paragraphs that made me stop and think. So I will share those.

"Indeed, America has a grand record of knocking over other nations, even if our history of installing lasting new regimes is a bit checkered. Plus, I suppose it's hard these days to find a great power willing to kick a little butt for a righteous cause. The Europeans have been there, done that; they have lost their appetite, if not their flair, for foreign empires, intrigues and escapades that often turn out badly. As for the Russians and Chinese, they lack charitable impulses. They liberate like the mob lends money; the vig sucks. But American's are a generous if slightly naive people, with a distinct messianic bent and the animating conviction that what works for us must work equally well for others. We are the New World, they are the Old; new is always better. Right?"

And: "Like every society, ours is a confounding mixture of rich and poor, of haves and haveth-nots. And yet, I think,what makes us different from most is that here the poor can become rich, and the rich can become stinkingly rich or blow it all and end up cleaning all those swimming pools. This, I think, accounts for why we have so far limited ourselves to one revolution. Yet I also think we take for granted that because America has survived for over two hundred years, it will last another two hundred, ad infinitum. But the foundation is not as sturdy or impervious to harm as we once assumed, as nineteen homicidal maniacs showed us on September 11."

And lastly: "One way to win an insurgency is to melt into the environment and culture - to go native - and beat the locals at their own game. This, of course, just has never been the American way. We rearrange the culture and environment to suit us."

The fact that this novel was written seven years ago, set in Iraq and detailing supposedly "key" players in the American and Middle East during that war just ended up seeming so ironic to me. Here we are seven years later - still stuck in a mess in several countries with cultures so different than ours…watching new events play out in the Ukraine.  Trying to figure out the best way "out", how to inspire change…."win" hearts and minds.

Doesn't seem to be working.

My Mother's Jacket

When my mother died a few years ago my sister and I spent time going through her things, keeping some, donating others. We organized her lovely home before selling it, boxed up her photographs, distributed some meaningful items to good friends and family. We did the kinds of things you do at an ending.

Going through her closet I came across her greenish jacket. It was an all-purpose sort of jacket with a hood and a zip-out lining. It was "water resistant" although not a true rain coat. I slipped it on and I liked it. So it went home with me.

Since then this jacket visited Ireland with me, traveled to Alaska, spent a Thanksgiving holiday in New Hampshire with family and friends, and traveled in our little RV on two western adventures. It's the one I use when I walk the dog, go to the grocery store, run errands, attend book club or quilt guild. It's been to France and Belgium, from Chicago to Santa Fe, Seattle to Nashville.

The zipper is broken, so I just use the snaps. It's washable, warm enough except on the coldest of days and I just like to wear it. Every time I put it on it's sort of like a "hug" from my mom. She's no longer with me…..but her jacket is….and it is well-traveled.

Living with a City Dog

We have a Boston terrier and Fenway loves to go camping with us. The minute we start to load the RV for an adventure he is underfoot and shivering with excitement. He knows the special drawer in our small space where we keep his food, treats, toys, sweater and leash. He watches while we tuck the pillow onto "his" seat so he can sit and view the passing scenery.

During our five RV outings Fenway had the chance to bark at buffalo, chase a magpie, watch turkeys pass by "his" window, eagerly try to follow a prairie dog down into its den, smell all sorts of new smells and anoint thousands of trees from the UP to Texas, Iowa to Seattle, Colorado to Oklahoma....and other states along the way.

Traveling with Fenway makes it a bit more difficult. We don't go out to dinner as often, we spend less time in Museums (although he is perfectly fine waiting in the RV while we do people things). But it's also fun...we've met a lot of nice people who meet us because they want to meet him...and the occasional shop or gallery owner smiles and says "Sure.....bring him in!"

However, on this trip, we have learned that Fenway is just not a big fan of the Southwest. It seems his tender toes attract every burr in the vicinity whenever we try to take him for a walk. He comes to a dead stop, ears flat against his head until we examine each paw and pull out the offending prickle. Then he will slowly agree to continue walking....while avoiding all of that suspicious taller grass-stuff in the area.

So we come to the conclusion that Fenway Underfoot Tender Toes Woodard is a city dog. He likes his two mile Milwaukee walks on sidewalk, his soft green grass in his yard and at the field where he runs.

Yes....he likes to travel but we know he really loves the RV cause it's the only time he gets to sleep with us.

Something Sacred

There are moments in my life where I feel I've come face to face with the sacred. For me it's not usually in a church setting.....more often it is somewhere in the great outdoors.

Dave and I spent two years living on our sailboat, Connemara...cruising from the Chesapeake Bay to the Bahamas, then up to Maine, back down to Key West and finally ending our adventure back in the Chesapeake. There were times at anchor....by ourselves, quiet waters, huge blue sky or star filled nights when I felt a connection.....a spirit. An appreciation of how tiny I was in such an incredibly huge universe.

Today our morning in New Mexico provided a similar kind of experience. We drove northwest from Santa Fe to The Bandelier National Monument. Our guide book stated this was one of "New Mexico's most atmospheric sites." We simply chose it because there was a paved road all the way to the visitors' center, we could hike for a couple hours, see a lot of "stuff" and leave our dog in the car.

I was not prepared for the awe-inspiring experience waiting around the corner. The towering cliff sides, the color of the rocks, the hundreds of cave dwellings carved into the rocks, the community left behind by our ancient neighbors. As we walked the trail and climbed the ladders to peek inside the past it was so fascinating to imagine how the men and women and children lived their lives in this pueblo. They were one with their surroundings.....one with nature....one with their creator. They respected and honored this place......and I hope I have a small understanding of why and a huge respect for them and their story.

There Is Just Something About A Book Club.....

I love to read....I think I always have. As a child I remember churning through the Nancy Drew mysteries, the Little House on the Prairie series, all the books I could find about dogs, Lassie, Brighty of Grand Canyon. Graduating to "older" selections it was Gone With the Wind, To Kill A Mockingbird, Sherlock Holmes....and on and on. As a teenager, while babysitting my younger sister, I'd "sneak read" my dad's copy of Peyton Place! Wild stuff back in the day.

I read to my kids all the time, Charlotte's Web, Winnie-the-Pooh, Stuart Little....Alice in Wonderland. We "fooled" our kids into thinking they were staying up late by saying "As long as you stay in bed you can READ for 30 minutes!" It worked.....they read.....and I stopped having to actively "mother" for the evening and could pick my own book up again.

I remember being engrossed in a Stephen King book when Megan was about eleven....it had to be 5:30 p.m or later when she wandered into the room to ask "Mom, what's for dinner?" I had no idea....too busy reading all afternoon. And I probably responded with some non-so-sympathetic answer about how I'd figure that out when I finished the chapter.

Reading opened my world, filled a void, made me think and wonder, stimulated my imagination, taught me new things. And it still does.

Once a month, for at least 30 years I've gone to my Book Club Meeting. I belonged to book clubs in Oconomowoc and Nashotah, WI, Freeport, IL, Tabernacle, NJ, New Castle, DE and now Milwaukee.  Whenever we moved to a new location, I'd unpack boxes and find a vook club. I simply can't imagine a month without my book club...and oh how I hate to miss a meeting!

My book club friends mean a lot to me.....they always have. They challenge me to move out of my comfort zone and read selections I would never choose to read on my own. They bring amazing insights and interpretations to what we read.....they see things differently than I do....that's what makes the discussions so much fun!

I'd ramble on a bit more.....but I just bought a new book....and it's calling to me.
:-)

A Different View

I'm sitting in the little laundry room at the campground outside Carlsbad Caverns, New Mexico. Our two loads of now-clean clothes are in the dryers and I sit here looking out the window at a yucca plant and an ocotillo plant.

Now why does this suddenly make doing laundry seem exotic? We spend the morning taking a self-guided tour through the amazing caverns and will be moving on tomorrow. This afternoon I sit here, waiting for the dryer to finish, looking at a blue sky over a section of the Guadalupe Mountains enjoying a warm day and watching these two desert plants move in the breeze.

Same detergent, same clothes.....exotic view.....it does make a difference.
:-)

So Much Space

A road trip through America, where you watch the scenery change up close instead of peering out an airplane window gives me a new perspective. I've had this feeling at many times over the years....look out as we go......there is SO much space.

Every time we drove Route 80 through Pennsylvania on the way west to visit family in Chicago Dave and I would always be struck by the millions of trees, the rolling hills, the seeming lack of housing. We'd talk about what it must have been like to explore that vast area on foot, or horseback instead of moving down the interstate. For us it was the "5 hour state".....how many days on foot?

Out in the western states the sense of "vastness" is even more pronounced. Get off the main highways and you can go for miles before you see another car.....or basically any sign of civilization.

I can almost begin to understand the mind set of our forefathers.....and even of some current citizens .....who have a hard time imagining how we can ever run out of anything? Clean air, water, land, resources beneath the ground.....there just seems to be so much of ALL of it. Boundless and endless and forever available.

And then we cross a dry river bed, or notice a yellow haze over a more populated area, or see a hand printed sign on the edge of a farmer's field saying "Pray For RAIN!" and we are reminded that as stewards of the land.....maybe we should have done a better job or certainly need to start doing a better job.

This is such an amazingly beautiful place....this United States of America.....but it does have limits.