Reprise

Here is where
a suffocating numbness of noise
collides into a
limitless vacuum of silence

again and again and again
Here is where
trending , Heade
yields to observation

Exotic painted
He returns
Hummingbird in Brazil
cacophony and orchids

Touching eternity
within brush strokes
Here is where
He returns.

Reprise

Here is where
limitless bewilderment
displays in lines
drawn - cross - poem
trend in fleeting noise
painted beauty
observed.

~~~

It is poetry month. I try to observe this with more listening, sharing and (with provocation) writing. Two things I often cherish, collections of responsive media and Found Poems, were referenced at a reading in a manner that created a distaste. Thus, a provocation. A poem.  

Meandering; some closure anticipated

So I have now experienced 3 unstructured weeks. For me unstructured means without 9 + hours a day committed to a day job with care of others sprinkled in between. In this state of anything can happen --- what did?

Anxiety caused me to seek the money saving efficiencies assumed critical for the next stage of survival. Annual savings derived:approx $2,000. Medical appointments were scheduled. Various areas of clutter were de-cluttered and several remain. I remained on task for the care of the animals within an hour of the schedule they expected. I increased movement in general. I experimented with healthier food choices. I avoided video editing projects that I knew could consume me until week 3. I researched a potential house for flipping and decided that location, location was not enough to overcome black mold and mosquitoes. I got some tasks done for my pet non-profit organizations but not more than I would or could have when employed.

I referred things I found to others...with positive hopes that something may manifest. Today I will try to accomplish a list of things. Maybe I will do lists for a week and see what limited structure yields.

Perspective on Reading

I randomly listen to talk programs. I happened upon a program on Literacy. It was inspiring. Brought me to tears. It included stories about adults making the commitment to read and how this commitment and the reading transformed their lives.

I took away this new perspective on Reading.
The transition from Learn to Read to Read to Learn is where many non-readers get lost in the system. This transition most commonly happens in about the 4th grade.

25 cents is the price of a miracle

Charlie is my Dad. His refrigerator magnet says WORK is a 4 letter word. He retired at 55. He is now 80. He putters, finding ways to save dollars and cents. He dabbled in stocks and bonds for a decade or so, but got out before all that went totally bust. He spends his days being Judge Judy trained. Other lifelong learning is aided by History, Discovery and the Weather Channel.

This weekend we shared lentil and cactus soup which he made, followed up on some health insurance claims, and discussed the behaviors of our mutual companions, feral cats and my rescued Bull Mastiff pup, Jake. I can not play cards well enough to bet a quarter, so I watch him play one of the 100 something ways to play solitaire. We chat. He mumbles about gardening in pots. We do have some healthy basil and a few strong tomato plants. I say we because I purchase the starter plant or seeds and he tends to them. The price of motivation. He has discovered our Hot Tub. Now that I mark his calendar on the date when it has been treated, he is using it regularly. I needed to learn how to communicate this readiness for use in a manner that would not offend. It was challenging. I failed a few times but I think I am finely on track. And as to the Hot Tub, he is on track as I fail to use it. More chat or exploration about short term memory. I try to remember tidbits from the news which I think may be triggers for conversation and potential stories. I work at conversations. I had scribbled a few things down that are not handy at the time we chat. I think hard: mental gymnastics and then realize that the term I was trying to recall intellectual aerobics. The differences discreet would be fun to follow. The memory was a description Tony Snow used to describe Meeting with the Press. I then think that if I have a storied life I will be a success. Both references come from elegies of the kind the video world provides: Sunday Morning Articles. Then distractions abound within me and Dad is no longer in focus. The miracle I wish for is that a card player will appear that will risk an occasional quarter. It does not take much for Dadto put up walls. Failures with neighbors and Senior Center - mostly bad timing but he took it all too personal which make me the only community he truly has. It is a tall order being a community and it does not take much for me to be distracted. The voices in my head say you need you time now, dad has had what you can give today. Balance too is difficult.

Sometimes I sense too much in common with this hermit who lives like a troll in the back house. So much unsaid here.

What we value enough to copy

The reminder came in recent conversation: To be a storyteller you need a story to tell. To be a blogger, not so much. So, I start.

Since vacationing, I have been sitting with a story that ignited my curiosity and ire and left me bemused. It is layered: outrage, heritage and this idea "what we value enough to copy." 

It is not new, this tale. In fact it's mangled roots began at the turn of the 20th century. It is every day, and the future, transformed by tourists, the global economy and the value of authenticity. It is the how and why culture is preserved by Native Americans —and purveyors of our nation’s history in this century. And in the world of the Internet, this story can be informed by comments of others.

I enter the story with stops at roadside booths in Arizona and Nevada. I stop to appreciate authentic Native American jewelry. My purchase power is nearly non existent. While cruising the tables,  I was thinking “How authentic.”  That puzzling idea seeped in as the experience as my vacation progresses and my joy of craft and art and flea-markets was transformed into “damn this America” again. There is no end to the disappointment.

For me, the West was an open book. The only pages written thus far were not from reliable sources. Tonto was the only Indian known to me. The embodiment of 'Indian' from childhood games modeled upon Wild West movies. I had so many pages of understanding to fill. 

The first real Native Americans I would see were entrepreneurs. Booths, gathered flea market style, abundant. The crafted-work, seen among the booths, is similar, yet distinctly different.

With questions I learned from ample answers. The stones are named after the area it was mined. Some are stones are rare as some areas are now barren.  In Bisbee, the seasonal rain wash turquoise into the roadside basins Bisbee, We must go there. I learn the bevel side is up. I learn advances in technology are embraced by the current generation because of economics. I am shown how strung, cut and polished gem stones crafted into jewelry can be done making clasps no longer essential. Most importantly, I sensed that the business of making and marketing jewelry is a family affair. And I cannot distinguish 'antique' from 'made yesterday' Indian Jewelry. I find an Antique Indian Jeweler at the Boulder City Jamboree.

My vaca get-a-way unearths a visceral delighted in the handiwork of others. But an undercurrent pulls me out of tourist mode. Ample answers come with prideful stories connecting generations by traditions. The economics and livelihood of Native Americans artisan jewelry makers is intrinsically tied to the next generation attending college. Heritage was being stamped upon them by a flat world. The tribes  needed doctors and lawyers more than Indian Chiefs.

One proud native mother expressed her outrage about fakes in a manner that I failed to yet understand, "Jewelry with .925 is not Indian". I decided to buy from her to join in the resistance that lurked now in a distant part of my brain. Her outrage inclined me to purchase from her son for mine, and from her, for me. It was not until vacation destination: the Grand Canyon, a place of mimic and replication that I came to more fully understand her exclamation.

At the Grand Canyon National Park Desert View Watchtower Gift Shop, a sign above strings of silver feathered turquoise necklaces read: Authentic non-Indian jewelry. If I was thinking journalistically rather than touristy, a picture of this sign would be gold for this story. It was a picture I failed to take. I had no idea how it spoke volumes about the latest economic based invasion of Native Americans by replica jewelry Made in China and machine stamped .925. [2]

The watchtower, a mimic of Anasazi Indian watchtowers, is infused with storytelling both figuratively and literally. The design of this national park building completed in 1933 was commissioned and awarded to Mary Colter. This five-story site to see is on a promontory overlooking the Grand Canyon at the eastern end of the south rim.

The architecture informed by archeology, ethno-history and the work of Indian mural artists, including Hopi Fred Kabotie embodies the value of copying, storytelling, and preservation of Native American Culture. Authenticity is reportedly at the core of the architect’s work. The replica design was said to be informed by turn of the century southwestern archeology. On its walls the tradition of storytelling in rock art are copies of rock art rendered by artist Fred Greer. These copies may be the only existing record of the original story painting found at an Abo, New Mexico Archaeological site.

Ms. Colter’s designs were commissioned by Santa Fe Railway and the Fred Harvey Company which launched the Native American souvenir business. This company’s transformation includes becoming the concessionaires of National Parks. The souvenir and concession business began by leveraging the traditions and skills of local artisans. This leveraging spawned tradition based Navajo, Zuni, Hopi and Pueblo family businesses that have now supported several generations of displaced Native Americans. So the ability of this outraged Indian mother to market to tourists, culturally based jewelry and crafts, is directly tied to the business that is now the target of her rage. In civilizing the southwest, trinkets were mass produced by artisans supplied sheet silver and pre-cut turquoise by the Harvey Company.

This blog, in all its hyper-parts, evolved because of I sensed a disturbing undercurrent of injustice for which I had no context. The outrage of the Indian mother could not be shaken so I needed to understand it. Give it a place to quiet in better knowing. I googled to learn more than the culture center disclosed. I determined that the act of selling imports as Souvenir is not out of character for the legacy company that ran the concessions. And that the new company continues to have unfettered access to 5 million visitors a year to profit from tourism.

I come away with a strong belief that Indian Crafted souvenirs from our National Parks should be authentic not imported reproductions. I share this story to amplify how economically based transformations without connection to values and tradition fail all of us.

1) The Grand Canyon is the most visited natural wonder on the planet. 5 million visitors a year with up to 30,000 visitors per day in peak season. 

2) Sterling Silver objects are stamped with either the word "Sterling" or ".925" which refers to 92.5% pure silver and 7.5% other metals, usually copper.

Postscript: Within this vacation there was another connection with Native American culture at the AMERIND MUSEUM, the ‘Traditions in Clay’ Exhibit. It depicted a history of pottery making. It also displayed outcomes of ‘a competition’ involving copying traditional works as a means of connecting to ones heritage

This story does not end here if you make a different purchase decision or support any legislation that may come in to play to make our collective treatment of Native Americans less egregious.

Memory Lane - Immediacy of Now

I was asked, do you remember “Loving You” with the phenomenal high pitched C’s and chirping birds by Minnie Ripperton? And was informed that she also recorded “Walk Down Memory Lane” and died much, much too early in life at 31. The memories recalled which had prompted this inquiry were about spontaneity and discovery and traveling less traveled roads. I did not remember the Ripperton song because the music of that period of my life was controlled by others but I was prompted to its discovery now. And it was immediately special.

Memory and its failures and pleasures was part of the rational for this blog. That very same day the quote 'the fierce urgency of now' was captured in scribble. And the week included distractions of the hear via NPR like happiness research. The biggest distractions however, are the community committments....back to them I go.