September 6, 2023, Mauston, WI- The bison herd was spread out, mostly standing around, with some lying peacefully about and a few rolling in the dust. This was the order of the morning, at Blue Mounds State Park, just north of Luverne, MN. I had come here partly to walk along the pinkish-blue rocks and partly to sit and watch the bison, who were safely behind a fence, with a three-mile range in which to graze, wallow and just be bison, without any “intrepid” ( I think of another word that ends in -pid) tourists trying to get selfies with the beasts.
Bison herd at Blue Mounds State Park, Luverne, MN (above and below)
There was only respect for these magnificent animals, from those of us who stopped to see them today. A woman who had come with a friend, and her little dog, sat in the car with the pet, while her friend went to observe the herd.
The rocks on the cliffs to the north of the bison pasture were equally magnificent- in an understated way.
Blue and pink ledges, at Blue Mounds.Top of north Blue MoundRolling prairie, along Blue Mound Loop Trail
Like Pipestone to the north, Luverne relied greatly on locally quarried stone to build its public structures.
Rock County Courthouse, Luverne, MNRock County Veterans Memorial, with front of Courthouse in view
After a three-hour drive, the second homage of the day was on a more somber note: Laying a wreath at the gravesite of Mendota Heights Police Officer Scott Patrick, slain in the line of duty, on July 30, 2014, at a traffic stop in nearby West St. Paul. He had been a partner to an extended family member; thus, the added impetus to pay my respects.
Let all know the value of a life cut short. It is gratifying that his killer was caught and brought to justice, serving a life sentence for first degree murder.
Adjacent to Acacia Park Cemetery, where Officer Patrick was laid to rest, is Oheyaw ahi, “A Place Much Visited”, in the Dakota language. It is also known as Pilot Knob. This is a site sacred to the Dakota people, who occupied the area, when Europeans first came there. The hill was a regular gathering place, as the name implies. Sacred ceremonies were commonly observed at Oheyaw ahi. After a treaty was signed, in 1851, giving control of the area to the U.S. government and land to white settlers, 1300 Dakota people were confined to a fenced camp on the opposite bank of the Minnesota River. Many died there, during the winter of 1851-52, and were buried at Oheyaw ahi. Thus, to this day, the site is hallowed ground and sacred to the Dakota Nation. I walked quietly, on established trails, and offered prayers for those who suffered then, and those who may be suffering now.
The north gathering place, on Oheyaw ahi, near Mendota Heights, MN.
After the full day, it took a while, but I found my rest stop for the night, at Quality Inn, Mauston.
September 5, 2023, Luverne, MN- The lady from somewhere in Florida stepped out into the open air observation deck, at Golden Spike Tower, North Platte, felt the bracing Great Plains wind and rushed back inside. When I came back in, myself, she remarked that it was “a nice two seconds of fresh air- Brrr!” My mind went back to the February, 1987, ride on the Chicago El, and a stoned goofball opening the door, which got stuck until a world-weary conductor came along, giving the rest of us a true dose of “bracing”. 67 F , 40 mph winds and all, just felt refreshing, this morning.
Golden Spike Tower
I like the Great Plains, finding more here to appreciate than many do. Then again, that may be said of anywhere I’ve been-and the Southwest does remain my Home Base of choice. Nebraska has its share of flat cornfields, which are themselves hugely important to the nation’s, and the world’s sustenance. It also has its share of forested land, including a National Forest, up near Chadron, in the northwest of the state. I did not get anywhere near there, today, but did pass a number of small forests, particularly along the Platte River, its forks and the many irrigation-focused reservoirs that dot its plain. The Platte, like its fellows to the west, is suffering. It is mostly sand bars, these days-hoping for rain.
The first part of the morning was spent in homage to all that the railroad industry has done for the good of humanity-even as we, with some degree of justification, fret about the after-effects of fossil fuel use. My take is that all this concern should propel us into a Green Economy, which it is doing-just not fast enough to suit some people. The change-over needs to be done carefully, though, lest those whose interests lie in the old energy format convince the masses of people to resist what is, in the long run, best for the planet and for all living things within its gravitational pull.
Corn fields abut the Bailey Yard, home to Golden Spike Tower. The Bailey is the largest Classification Rail Yard in the world, being 8 miles long and occupying 2,850 acres. Union Pacific trains, centered here, transport goods, and more than a few crafty travelers, to 23 states. As the name, Golden Spike, implies, it was on a Union Pacific track, in Promontory, Utah, where the spike that brought the country’s rail system to completion was driven into the ground. This tower, at this yard, underscores that feat.
Union Pacific’s leased cornfield, at Bailey Yard, North Platte (above and below)
There has been more care taken to let tired land lie fallow or be protected by cover crops, in the past five or six years. People are learning, from the excesses of the Monoculture Boom of the last two decades.
A field at rest, on the northwest side of Bailey Yard.
One more fact about Bailey Yard: In 1941,in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor, a young North Platte woman named Rae Wilson recalled that the grandmothers of her town had operated a canteen for servicemen, during World War I. She wanted to do the same in her time, and approached Bill Jeffers, the President of Union Pacific, and a North Platte native, for permission to use a vacant room in his company’s North Platte terminal. He gladly offered the space, free of charge, with the caveat that the community provide all that was needed-food, drink and furniture. He knew that North Platte, and the surrounding area, would rise to the occasion. That, the community did, in spades. Beginning with a company of Kansas National Guardsmen, on Christmas Eve, 1941, thousands of troops passing through North Platte were fed and shown a warm welcome by the community-with plenty of support from communities across Nebraska, northern Kansas and northeastern Colorado. Remember, this was before there many processed foods, before microwave ovens; everything was made from scratch. The effort continued until 1946. The passenger terminal was torn down in 1973, so Bailey Yard maintains a replica of the canteen and offers a video account of the efforts.
I continued on, after viewing the video, stopping for lunch in the town of Gothenburg, an hour east of North Platte. Here, at Deb’s Diner/Nana’s Country Kitchen, I struck up a conversation with two local gentlemen, over lunch. One of the men had been in Colorado Springs, as I had, this past weekend. He told of taking a cabin at a large facility on the northwest side of town, and of his hapless wife getting into bed-and being stung by a bee, that had been trapped between the sheets! Good thing she wasn’t allergic-and there was plenty of mud outside, as it rained almost incessantly, on that side of town. (Mud, for those too young to remember, was the farmer’s medicine for insect stings. I’ve used it quite a few times, though I am no farmer.)
The capital of the Cornhusker State, Lincoln, is a medium-sized city, about an hour west of Omaha, which is somewhat larger. I stopped by the state capitol, for a short circumambulation. The edifice is in the shape of a skyscraper, though its base has expanded, as state government has grown over the decades.
Nebraska State Capitol, LincolnBase of Nebraska State Capitol, spreading southward.View of Nebraska State Capitol, from the east.The capital city’s namesake.
The day was fading, though I had plenty of energy left, so I wended the way north, past Fremont, Winnebago, Sioux City and the southeastern sliver of South Dakota, to the small quarry town of Luverne. Tomorrow, I might hike a bit at Blue Earth State Park, and pay respects to the victims of the Mankato massacre, before heading to Mendota Heights, and laying a wreath at the grave of a police officer, who was the work partner of an extended family member, and who was killed in the line of duty, nine years ago. I became aware of his murder,whilst paying similar respects to George Floyd, in 2021. It is past time, but murder is murder-and Officer Scott Patrick deserves to be remembered for his service and his life, every bit as much as any other victim of our national intemperance.
September 3, 2023, Black Forest, CO- The ball cap fluttered down from the dining hall balcony, with a gleeful pair of bright blue eyes following its progress. While the adults and older kids were busy talking among themselves, the three-year-old weaved his way across the balcony and down the stairs, retrieving the cap-and exploring the recess under the platform. He was soon joined by an adventurous friend, who came back out, a few minutes later, to announce the presence of Black Widow spiders in the alcove. Jack was unperturbed. The main thing was, his curiosity was satisfied.
He, and the other children present at our gathering, are creatures of agency. They have been granted such, by the wiser among the parents, grandparents and those of us who are uncles and aunts-either familial or by dint of inclination. We claim agency for ourselves as well-so it is natural that this be extended the future generations. The old saw, “Be kind to your children. They will be choosing your nursing home”, comes from far deeper sentiments. I can’t imagine being less than kind, or acting unloving-not in the past forty-four years, not even in the days of my own intemperance, impatience and insecurity.
Our lives matter, from the inception, the conception, of our souls. They matter until we have drawn our last breath, and long afterward, as the memories of those lives inform the decisions and actions of our descendants-both biological and societal.
Thus will Jack, and his friend, Astrid, and all those older and younger than they, make their will known, triumph from the decisions they make that are wise and forward-thinking and learn from those of their decisions that are not so.
It was this set of thoughts that rang most prominently, throughout a far more welcoming and affirming day at camp.
September 2, 2023, Black Forest, CO- Kicking off her shoes, the instructor showed us how to actually dance in rhythm to a classical concerto. A group of us stepped, at first slowly, then in lively fashion, as the crescendo sounded. It looked like the dervishes go to disco, but the idea was for us to be comfortable with our own rhythm and style of movement.
Back in high school, there were only a few accepted ways of dancing. I was the model of two left feet, so I spent a lot of time watching the more graceful dancers and managed to kind-of, sort-of master one of the dance steps, by the time graduation happened.
Since then, moving to the beat has become easier. Now, the eye-rollers are men my age, as in “Leave that stuff to the kids, before you put your knees out of whack!” Actually, dancing saves my knees, as does hiking, but I digress.
Joining group activities is a means of sharing one’s inner spirit-letting people know what moves a soul. The sight of an 85-year-old William Shatner “busting a move”, or the late Leonard Cohen, tangoing on stage with one of his back-up singers, at the age of 80, gives me similar confidence, so long as it continues to feel natural.
I am one of two out-of-staters at this conference, so joining in these types of activities also gives me a connection to the otherwise tight-knit group, who are er,basically the same family members who have gathered together for twenty years. It’s good for the soul to meet new people and learn different perspectives. Besides, they invited me, so here we all are.
September 1, 2023, Black Forest, CO- While the hostess could barely focus, for the crowds that were making their way to her check stand, i could see that she was trying to keep it together. Such was the noon hour, at Junction Restaurant, on the east edge of Pagosa Springs.
I have been on Rte. 160, across Colorado’s southern tier, maybe two dozen times, since 1981. I have seen snow in July and bare roads in January. It has been all about navigating Wolf Creek Pass, each and every time. It has also been about an overnight in Cortez, or in Walsenburg, if I was making a return trip.
Highway 160 is the middle route, between I-40 and I-70. It is the guide to the San Juan Mountains, Mesa Verde, the Animas, San Juan and Rio Grande, the San Luis Valley, Great Sand Dunes, the Spanish Peaks-and the heart of the Rocky Mountains.
The three great rivers are hurting. Sand bars are visible in the Animas and San Juan, at Durango and Pagosa Springs, respectively, and Rio Grande is barely flowing, at Alamosa. There are no fires allowed in Montezuma County (Cortez), La Plata County (Durango), Archuleta County (Pagosa Springs) and Rio Grande County (South Fork). For the first time in memory, I saw no snow, anywhere, on the tops of the great “Fourteeners”. Colorado is parched, along with most of its fellow western states, and the its neighbours on the Great Plains.
This is the backdrop to the three days that lie ahead, at the Colorado East Baha’i School, here in Black Forest. Nonetheless, as we take pains to conserve water, be fire wise and love our host Mother Earth, all of us, Coloradans and visitors alike, are grateful for the paradise that this state presents.
I hope the blessed little lady at Junction can find some peace, this weekend.
August 31, 2023, Cortez- The Super Blue Moon is playing peek-a-boo, thanks to the intermittent cloud cover in the eastern sky. I am here in Colorado’s anchor to the Four Corners region, having just enjoyed a dinner in my favourite restaurant in town: Farm Bistro.
Setting out from Home Base, after running someone to a doctor’s appointment, I encountered no obstacles or diversions, on what is now a familiar route. The greatest part of the journey goes through the Navajo Nation. Like many areas of the country, Dinetah is gradually seeing an uplift in its infrastructure, while other segments of that framework remain challenging. Communities that were once food deserts, like Dennehotso, Shonto and Teec Nos Pos (“teese naws poss”) are seeing a resurgence in dry farming techniques and have clean, modern convenience markets. The highways are in fairly good shape, but highways need constant repair and attention, anywhere in the world. Running water, electricity and wireless fidelity have a ways to go, before becoming universal. I am always at home, in either the Navajo Nation or Ute Mountain Tribe, and always show respect for the privacy and dignity of the people, as should be done anywhere.
Cortez, is as ever, a welcoming, full-service community. Farm Bistro, where I have dined several times, has a bustling and friendly staff-working extra hard to serve the unexpectedly early Labor Day crowd. Looks like a four-day weekend is afoot.
NEXT: Across southern Colorado and up to C-Springs
August 29, 2023- The little boy held five crayons in each hand, carefully divided between primary and secondary colours. He sang a song of his own composing, in a rudimentary form of English, the words’ meanings known only to himself. The melody, though, was pleasant and his whirling dance juxtaposed nicely with the song. This occupied him for almost forty minutes.
Creativity is a bounteous thing, and we can learn more ways in which it may be applied, by almost anyone-regardless of their intellect or state of mind. With regard to the former, my youngest brother, with limited speaking ability, nonetheless would raise a cup of juice and call out “Achtung!”, wanting those at table to join him in a toast. (He got this from watching episodes of the TV show “Hogan’s Heroes” It sounded to him like something that would be a nice cue for a toast.) Mentally challenged people are among the most loving and generous of all humans. With regard to the latter, mankind has shown both a limitless capacity for generosity and inclusivity; on the other hand, whole museums have been devoted to the Holocaust of World War II and there are Museums of Torture in a good many cities across Europe, as well as in Chicago.
Among the items in my own wardrobe is a cap that features a wraparound shield, covering the sides of my face, my ears and neck. Of course, some find it amusing, but I am pleased with what it does for my dermatological health. Whoever designed this cap has done fair-skinned (and a goodly number of swarthy people) a huge favour, in this time of approaching Solar Maximum.
We will each have moments when we may be called upon to devise a novel solution to a problem, large or small. Let it then be a time when one’s own dance of ten crayons comes to fruition. May that dance be a peaceful, regenerative one.
August 28, 2023- The pompous driver hollered, at both the city vehicle that was halfway through the unmarked intersection, and thus had the right of way, and the two disabled men who were in a marked crosswalk, with their walkers. (Arizona law states that people in a crosswalk that is not regulated by a traffic signal have the right of way). The driver’s plaint- “This would never be allowed, back home!”-rang a bit hollow to this bystander. I know the two disabled men. They are combat veterans and have earned the respect of the public at large.
It was, however, a genuinely lovely day. The students at the high school where I worked were uniformly focused on their assignment, showing respect for both the regular teacher and me. The six classes were quite large-as high school classes tend to be, yet there was an atmosphere of order-even the cut-ups were rather benign in their antics, and got to work after one warning.
The team at this evening’s dinner at Solid Rock was determined to show the two managers, both out of state, that they can get the job done, on their own. There was a healthy competition to pick up trays from those diners who were finished, with one of the diners himself picking up empties from his mates. A recycling program also started with tonight’s meal-cans, plastic bottles and small cardboard sheets went with the evening’s ad hoc manager. There is a definite pride that the team takes, from all hands being in focus, to give the homeless citizens of our community a balanced, well-prepared meal to start their week.
Everyone does something to help out in our community, and in the world at large. I have learned to not take it on the chin, when someone yammers and squawks if I’m not available to do what they want- often on the spot. I understand that everyone has needs and that frequently those needs are spontaneous. If I can help, so much the better-but there are no apologies forthcoming because I have other acts of service scheduled, some of them in places other than this community. ( I do dislike the overuse of “vacation”, to mean any time away from one’s home area, but I digress.) My friends sigh, or groan, or shrug their shoulders, and when I get back to Home Base, they are still my friends. The users just gripe and move on.
The best case scenario, though, is all hands in-like the classes I covered today, and the dinner at Solid Rock.
August 27, 2023- Close to fifty people were gathered in Granite Creek Park, early this afternoon, when I went over for an event organized to assist people registering with the government, under the terms of the Dream Act, for another two years of relative safety, as legal residents of the United States.
It was a well-organized, if low key, event-with a few people playing games and practicing Tae Kwon Do, despite the heat. Most of the Boomers in attendance were gathered under the ramada. I got my food and went to sit and watch the kids of various ages, who were engaged in the fun activities. The samosa vendor from Farmers Market was providing her delicious East African filled dumplings, as the protein item in the light lunch that was given to each of us. I took one of the chicken samosas, some Veggie Straws, a navel orange and some sparkling water.,
This brings me to the whole immigration issue. I read a post, this evening, by someone I thought knew better, saying that all the changes taking place in the world right now are organized by some shadowy group that wants to buy up as much land as they can get away with (thus, the wildfires in Hawaii, Canada and around the Mediterranean region), lock everyone down again (thus, the recent outbreaks of ad nauseam subvariants of Covid) and crash the U.S. economy (thus, the BRICS Group’s expansion). Similar fears are being expressed about migration, a phenomenon that far predates our system of nations and borders, and which will far outlast its present iteration- and for one reason: People will go where the work is.
I am personally in favour of a Guest Worker program, which would allow people to enter this country legally, for the purpose of filling those positions which American citizens choose not to occupy. While they ought to be able to drive, again as licensed operators, subject to all laws, including the holding of an adequate insurance policy, and should be able to find housing, their children be educated in U.S schools, etc., I do not favour granting other perquisites, such as welfare or unemployment insurance payments-especially as there are many American citizens who go without such benefits. Homeless citizens should be first in line for affordable housing, which is a human right. Citizens who are ill should be first in line for affordable health care-also a human right. We have the wherewithal to do right by our fellow Americans AND, inan organized manner, help our fellow humans who come to us from other nations.
Jumping back to the BRICS question, the very organization of that group is a direct nconsequence of colonialism. Every member of BRICS, exceptRussia, is a country which was once administered, and/or had its resources extrmeriacted by, one or more nations of Western Europe. It is NOT a cabal that wants to destroy the United States. If anything, the nations want to copy the better aspects of the American model, and why wouldn’t they? Seeking to level the playing field requires a gradual spread of genuine democratic practices-and even China is going to find that to be to its benefit, if it hasn’t realized that already.
BRICS ties in with DACA, in that the only way to prevent the monstrous cabal, that so many fear, from taking over, is to empower the Global South, and its citizens, in place-so that there is not an accelerating and unwieldy wave upon wave of people overloading the nations of North America and Europe, far beyond anything we are experiencing now. Both development in place, and a well-managed Guest Worker program in the developed nations, are needed, and urgently.
A Sagittarian Seeker 