June 19, 2024- Today, we commemorated the date, in 1865, when enslaved people on Galveston Island, TX learned that they had, in fact, been freed from slavery by President Abraham Lincoln, 2 1/2 years earlier. Juneteenth has been a Federal holiday since 2021, so a good many people had the day off.
I have visited Palmito Ranch, the site of the last battle of the Civil War, fought in June, 1865, after the surrender of Robert E. Lee’s forces, which had taken place in April. There is much made of the fact that it was a nominal Confederate victory, yet it also was followed by the surrender of the “victorious” forces, a few days later. Colonel John S. Ford, CSA, escaped to Mexico, then returned to help process the paroles of the captured Confederates and to guarantee the humane treatment and release of remaining enslaved people in south Texas. He also, interestingly, campaigned for the suffrage of newly freed African-Americans.
It was not the cotton farmers who put up the last fights, on behalf of the Confederacy. That effort was made by the Mexican cotton merchants, and by a force sent by French Emperor Napoleon III to protect French mercantile interests in Tamaulipas and Nuevo Leon. These merchants spurred Col. Ford and his troops on, and took in many of the Confederates who had eluded capture. Pro-Confederate, but not necessarily pro-slavery, sentiment remained in the Rio Grande Valley for decades afterward.
One hundred fifty-nine years later, there has been much progress in race amity, but the long struggle continues-as humanity works out just what is meant by that term. A blessed Juneteenth to all who have worked so hard to bring its legacy to bear.
June 19, 2022, Montreal- Today was a fitting confluence of observances: Father’s Day, celebrating the best of those who help raise a next generation and who continue to offer guidance to the men and women they helped rear, and Juneteenth (which will be officially observed tomorrow, as a National Holiday in the U.S.), wherein paternalism, the opposite of good fathering, took a well-deserved hit, with enslaved people in Texas finally getting the word that they had been freed-more than two years after the Emancipation Proclamation-and two months after the surrender of General Robert E. Lee’s Army, at Appomattox.
The concept of a person making decisions FOR other people has been with us for at least 10,000 years. It has many permutations, and will die hard. We are, however, entering an Age of Fulfillment, in which individuals are growing into humans who can make their own decisions. There will be a lot of mess involved-that’s the nature of growth. Mistakes will happen, at all levels, yet hopefully lessons will be learned. Those who see life through a progressive lens can be just as authoritarian as their polar opposites who seem to want to turn back the clock.
Paternalism, or excessive maternalism, for that matter, serve to debilitate the very people one secretly wishes would stand up and do what’s right. The rub comes, when the domineering one realizes that maybe the children or teens are doing precisely what is right-for their lives. Teaching people the thinking process is far more valuable than pontificating on what to think.
My Father’s Day, with a son who is away in a training exercise, was spent being proud of what he is achieving. I also returned to a city that taught me some hard lessons, four years ago-at exactly the time when I learned them. This year, Montreal was far easier to navigate. I had the satisfaction of visiting the shore of Lake Ontario, at Kingston, where I spent last night, and the north bank of the St. Lawrence River, at Prescott, Ontario (“That’s PresCOTT, there, Yank!”). I also was able to put the Saturn in a highly secure garage for the evening, once arriving in Montreal. Father’s day, my way, was capped by a wonton supper at Chef B.Lee, on St. Catherine Street, in the heart of Montreal’s Asian Food District (“Chinatown” would be an inadequate term here, as Korean, Japanese and Vietnamese eateries are just as common).
It’s been a good day, all in all. Here are a few scenes from the course of the journey.
Lake Ontario Park, Kingston, ONNorth Shore of Lake Ontario, Kingston, ONLake Ontario North Shore, Kingston, ON
The most important aspect of this park, however, is the newest and oldest, at the same time: The Alderville First Nation, a Mississauga Ojibway band, blessed the area with one of its artists and healers, Terence Radford, who created a Spirit Garden for Lake Ontario Park. All the Great Lakes are sacred to the Ojibway, so this blessing of Lake Ontario means a great deal, both to the Ojibway people and to their neighbours in the larger community.
Manidoo Ogitigan (Spirit Garden), Lake Ontario Park, Kingston, ON
THIS strikes me as the real reason I stopped overnight in Kingston.
A while later, I stopped in Prescott, ON. This town has a nice River Walk, focusing on the St. Lawrence, so I took a walk along a short part of it. Here are views of the river and of Fort Wellington, a British fort during the War of 1812, built to defend shipping from the American troops stationed across the river, in Ogdensburg, NY.
St. Lawrence River, at Prescott, ON-with jetty light houseSt. Lawrence River, Prescott, ONRemnants of rail bridge, St. Lawrence River, Prescott, ONFort Wellington, Prescott, ONCommunity Center, named for a local hero of Prescott, ON
This was a cool find. In the 1960s, Leo Boivin (“That’s BwaVAN, Yank!”), was a respected member of the Boston Bruins. Kids were always calling me “Leo”, though quite honestly, I couldn’t stand up on skates, for more than two minutes. As Leo was a native of Prescott, the town named its community center after him, when he passed away, last year.
Tonight, I am here, at Montreal’s Auberge St. Lo, formerly called HI (Hostels International) Montreal. It is a very comfortable and accommodating place, with the study room where I am writing this post.
June 19, 2021- In the latter part of June, 1969, one of my fellow trainees, of African-American descent, confronted me about what he thought was my negative attitude towards people of colour. I had no ready answer for him, as truth be told, I had no attitude of any kind towards African-Americans, since until entering Basic Training, I did not know any. I believed then, as now, that all people are equal in the sight of God, and that therefore I was to show kindness and respect to Black people, as I did towards Whites and Asians, who were far more numerous in my hometown. What that meant, in practice, was far more complicated. I was to learn that the historical treatment, of all people of colour and of lower class Whites, was woeful in general and that each subgroup was treated in such a manner as made that group’s genetic memory needful of particular attention, distinct from other “minority” groups.
Lavern and I reached an understanding, and there was no further animosity between us. I continued to learn, from other men of colour, throughout my Army enlistment- and afterward, of the difficulties faced by their ancestors, and by they themselves, on a daily basis. Although it may be said that everyone has a hard life, at one time or another, most of those difficulties are transitory happenstance- a stock decline here, a broken down car there, a sick family member over yonder. They are no less problematic in the interim, but they are not compounded by the genetic memory of generations who were, and in many cases still are, excluded from equal treatment by society and by those in their midst.
So it is, that I welcome the national observance of Juneteenth-NOT as a replacement holiday for Independence Day, but as a day of affirmation of the principles upon this nation was founded. I have read much and learned much, about the abhorrent treatment of people of colour-and of lower class people of pallour, across the span of our nation’s, and other nations’ stories. I hope one and all are able to likewise reflect on the course of becoming more equal.
Today was a low-key day, with no outside commitments, or Zoom calls. So, I checked over some work i was to do for a friend, and found-I’d already done it! I completed anothe rbit of study for a Red Cross credentials update, and spent a while at Planet Fitness.
Today was a suitably relaxing day, as the next three days: Juneteenth, Solstice and Father’s Day, have their expectations and the certitude of intensity. Topping it all off is the Ring of Fire Solar Eclipse, with a New Moon as the catalyst. It won’t be visible, in this neck of the woods, but I am sure we’ll feel its effects.
I am encouraged, even while posting on another medium as to what I would like to see gone, to post what I would like to see come to pass. Here is a short list:
“Physical Distancing”, as the term used for keeping people safe.
Adoption, instead of abortion.
Hands across the ideology divide, so people see clearly where their true friends are.
Universal free access to information.
A collaboration between naturopathic, homeopathic and allopathic medicine, with a de-emphasis on the profit motive.
A public safety system, in which there is transparency and consistency of communication as the baseline.
The Ring of Fire now being witnessed, across the globe, represents a cry of people who have been discounted and dismissed, for too long a time. I have learned that it is not entirely race-based. It is primarily rooted in economic eleitism and opportunism.
The title refers to August 10, 1861, and I will elaborate, momentarily. My Juneteenth began in Amarillo, with three surly drivers edging towards road rage, within a span of an hour. The first one zipped around the corner and found me in his way, so the horn blew and the fist was pumpin’. I got off the road and waited a bit. Then there was the woman who was off-kilter because I went straight when there was no “left turn only” indicator. Still no harm, no foul. Finally, after my Planet Fitness workout, across town, I was screamed at, for driving across a parking lot and not stopping at each point where the road intersects with said lot. This is, apparently, an Amarillo thing. (In Arizona, every parking lot intersection has a STOP sign. We must be spoiled.)
With all that, I left the city behind, and waltzed on over to Shamrock (See Ernest Tubb’s “Waltz Across Texas”). There is a place there, called Big Vern’s Steak House. Aram and I had lunch there, in 2011. Vern no longer opens for lunch, so after looking around and asking the kind cross street neighbour as to whether Vern was okay (He is; he just opens for dinner only, is all.), I checked out a place called Rusty’s. The perky owner told me she wouldn’t be open for another week or so, but if I went north a piece, I’d find a nice little place called Mesquite Canyon Steak House. I did, and it filled the lunch bill nicely.
Next to Rusty’s is Spinning Jenny’s House of Music. If I’d been in a better mood, I’d have popped on in there. Rusty and Jenny are both pretty and vivacious ladies, with good product, so it’s likely I’ll stop in Shamrock, next time I’m in the area.
I recall June 19 as Juneteenth, the day that Texas slaves received word of the Emancipation Proclamation: June 19, 1865, when the Union forces landed in Galveston and spread the news. This was 2 1/2 years after President Lincoln issued the Proclamation. Today, many people are still not free of their own limiting mental chains.
“Waltz Across Texas” became “Zumba Across Oklahoma”, shortly thereafter. I have a breakfast meet-up with one of my cousins, who lives near Joplin, early tomorrow morning. So, there were no Sooners on my schedule, this leg of the trip. I took the I-40 to 44 and onward straight-away, finding that the long-standing detour through the east side of Tulsa has been eliminated. It’s all freeway, from Erick to Miami, so I found an hour had been shaved off the drive. There was a minor rush hour jam, near downtown OKC, but that was all.
Once in Joplin, I found Motel 6 was reasonable, and that this franchise owner has a high-tech system, reminiscent of the European hotels I used, in 2014. Keyless entry and paperless registration are here in the Heartland.
This morning, I read of Juneteenth, the delayed news of southern slave emancipation, and how it took two years, minimum, to reach Texas.
Shopping for water and ice, to help with a brief trip to Superior, I encountered the daughter of a friend, whom I have not visited in some time. She was mildly cordial, the consequence, I’d say, of my lengthy physical absence, from their lives. I feel the need to connect with them, at least for a few hours, before heading out of the area for nearly a month.
Driving to Sun Flour Market, for a brief visit with one of my closest soul connections, I was able to communicate all that was essential, in snippets of conversation, punctuated by intuitive insight, in ninety minutes, or so, around her busy management of the restaurant. Like me, she gets the most accomplished, in a short time, through close attention to detail, while still being able to converse a bit- and put things together. We can understand, and care deeply for, each other and for each other’s loved ones, with minimal talk.
Driving back to the Valley, I stopped at Local Jonny’s, to visit with some of my young angels. They had today off, and were nowhere to be found. A respite is always vital, if only for a day or two.
I need little of anyone’s time, or so I tell myself. A new friend, whose acquaintance I made today, has a wealth of insight into the realm of the spirit. I look forward to delving into her treasury of awareness, and its connection to my Faith,in the days and months ahead.
There is time for me to finish downsizing; time to complete a set of cotton covers for the products of Days for Girls; time to help with any fire emergencies; time, always, for spiritual growth. How much time will I have to devote to each? It’ll depend on how much is necessary, to fully and lovingly attend to the task. My lilies know this.
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A Sagittarian Seeker 