July 6, 2023- Brandi waxed effusive, about her blood connections with various First Nations communities-Cherokee, Ojibway, Dineh,Mayan- as well as African-Americans. As we each looked at a chart, showing the ties between various groups, in the Museum of Indigenous Peoples, a block or two from Home Base, talk turned to crafts, such as Navajo rugs and Apache baskets. It turns out she had recently visited Hubbell Trading Post, a Dineh-run National Historic Site in Ganado, north of the Painted Desert. One of the main features of Hubbell is the demonstration spinning, carding and weaving of the great rugs. This sparked her interest in coming over from the Verde Valley with her children, who were enthused about using a mano and metate to grind blue corn and to check out the bones of a smilodon and Columbian mammoth-as well as read about the various Hopi and Zuni kachina dolls.

This fifteen-minute exchange, on my second visit to MIP, showed how relatively easy it is to break through the much-vaunted wall of anonymity, a barrier that is physically reinforced by garage door openers-when the garage is attached to the house, by excessive pride (not the kind that LGBTQ people and before them, Jesse Jackson, Sr., talk about-but the kind that comes before the fall) and by the fear-based focus on self-preservation, that sees monsters under every bed, or in every closet.

It has taken a while, but I am not overly concerned with bogeymen-not with people from other countries taking away my job; not with homeless people walking into my apartment and taking up residence; not with the market whittling away at my savings-and not with fascists forcing one ideology or another on me and mine. Each of those groups is operating, as it were, out of self-preservation, also based on fear. Each wants to be seen, heard, believed and treated with dignity. The rub comes when they are asked to treat everyone else in like manner.

I made a commitment, long ago, to not base friendships on ideology, physical traits, class, faith (or lack thereof)-but on character. There was a time when my own mannerisms were rough and attention to the needs of others was buried under some thick fog. It’s taken time, yet here I am, concerned with well-being of others-not as the abstract concept of my youth, but as a moment to moment, day-to-day modus vivendi.

May this state of mind and heart long continue.