Enjoying crunching the snow beneath his boots Sarge ventured along the street of small bars filling the west side of Schmall’s Falls lack of eating establishments catering to the needs of early risers, night owls, and swing shifters until Big Bob’s window sign on bright yellow paper touting “Sunrise Special: 2 eggs, toast & coffee for a buck” caught his stomach’s attention.
Entering the tavern currently conducting its own version of fast food service for the dawn dwellers. he stood to the side and held the door open for an exiting trio of grumpy construction workers. Toe kicking the rock salt from his boots he scouted for an empty stool at the bar crammed with white plates featuring steaming eggs, butter brushed toast and a constantly flowing, heady stream of coffee into squat thick cups vying for countertop space with slippery side dishes flashing crisp thick bacon and fat spitting sausages. After some careful navigation between the hands passing plates from the bar to the fully occupied booths, he managed to slide onto a still warm shiny red stool where the bar snuggled flush up against the far wall. Upon opening his paint speckled wool army coat, he generously contributed his share of body heat to that already creating streaking condensation on the bar’s large front window. He commenced pounding the alternate ends of an unlighted cigarette on the counter while patiently waiting for the barkeeper to take his order.
After setting down four full plates for the customers seated at the curve in the bar near the entrance, the lanky, middle-aged barkeeper smoothed a few slack grey hairs back into place with the rest of a backcombed wave and turned to make eye contact with him. “What it be today?” he demanded while wiping his hands with his waist apron.
Imitating the barkeep’s thick Polish accent Sarge replied, “Ve vant da special. Overeasy, if you please, Stanley.”
Smirking, Stanley nodded. “You gonna be a smartass today, eh? Forget it, Sarge. No mood for funny business.” Stanley scratched the order on a small pad of white paper, clipped it to the wire across the top of the serving window, then picked up the waiting filled order. Plate in hand, Stanley strode to stand across from the customer sitting beside Sarge, before setting down the plate, Stanley growled, “No mood for your funny business, either. F’n poached eggs. Not again. Messes up cook’s grill timing. Got it?”
A hoarse female voice croaked out, “You asked how I wanted ‘em and I told you. You didn’t say “no poached eggs.” Now you gonna give me my order or you wanting to eat them dead chickies yourself, Stan?”
Holding back a laugh in consideration for the barkeeper, Sarge watched Stanley scowl as he set down the platter covered with a double order of milky eggs whites wrapped around gentle hints of yellow yolk and perfectly browned toast drenched with melted butter. Right gray eyebrow arched high, Stanley silently filled the poached egg orderer’s cup with coffee. He started to work his way to the other customers, then, with the nearly full fresh pot of black coffee in his left hand he stopped and looked from Sarge to the customer sitting next to him. Stanley’s pale blue eyes flashed between the two. “You two at same time not good on Stan’s nerves. Don’t get any ideas or eggs go kaput!” Without waiting for a response, Stanley set about filling the coffee cups of the other customers at the bar.
Sarge leaned sideways to set his shoulder against the wall so he could turn and get a better look at the young woman sitting next to him. The Hudson Bay Blanket coat cut in old French Canadian trapper style drapped around her shoulders immediately culled her from the variety of working girls who frequented the bar during alcohol serving hours. It also separated her from the nearby telephone company’s swing shift working women. That left college student pulling an all nighter or some variation thereof. But the last wasn’t quite fitting the bill either in Sarge’s mind since there was no need for such creatures to venture off the perpetually buzzing college grounds for a cheap breakfast special in a working class bar. Hoarse Voice was busy poking the pointed edge of toast into what he considered an obscenely salted egg yolk. “Having a little egg with your salt, huh?”
A mass of long black hair crackling with static electricity was pushed back over a shoulder hunched inside the Hudson Bay Blanket coat, then a white face, made paler from the lack of any real sun during weeks of perpetual snow, with assessing dark brown eyes turned towards him. She sipped coffee to mix with her mouthful of eggs and toast, chewed slowly, then swallowed, all the time staring directly at him. She sniffed a little, then said, “Yep. Three spoons of sugar in my coffee too. You wanna make something of it?” Caught off guard by the effect on him of the unexpectedly sharp lines of her cheeks and bold aggressive eyes, Sarge simply shook his head of brown shaggy hair in reply and Hoarse Voice’s attention immediately turned back to her food.
Sarge watched her small fingers set a fork to work covering a slice of toast with egg, fold it over and stuff nearly all of it into her thin-lipped mouth. More salt was shaken over the remaining eggs, more sugar, along with a very generous amount of cream, mixed with the new coffee that flowed quickly into her cup via the pot wielded by the quick sighted Stanley. Questioning his interest, Sarge continued his surveillance of her liberal saltings, pokings and smearing of eggs until his own plate arrived and distance required him to ask her to pass the Tabasco sauce. She complied readily then made a point of watching him rain red sauce upon his eggs until it pooled along the plate’s upward crease. Deciding to let her know he was aware of her watching him, Sarge twirled his fork in anticipation but turned toward her, clearly waiting for some comment. None came. Unable to resist, Sarge quipped, “What? Want a taste?”
She responded by looking his long broad frame up and down, slowly taking inventory of the well-worn jeans, heavy work boots and dark grey plain sweater. “Nope. Wouldn’t dream of depriving you.”
Sarge thought the better of uttering the sexually suggestive reply that skipped to his lips. He’d had a way too long night of loading freight, hunger for a great deal more than food had been gnawing at him for months, and he already knew his overtired body wasn’t going to settle down for the deep oblivious sleep he mentally craved. Instead of verbally needling the hoarse voiced woman, he commenced slicing and swirling his eggs through the Tabasco sauce and finally satisfying his stomach. Eggs, spices and black coffee worked their usual soothing magic.
After mopping up the remaining streaks of red sauce on his plate, Sarge took note of the departing early morning rush crowd, held up his empty cup for a refill then pulled a half read paperback copy of Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency from the inside pocket of his long coat. With the still unlite cigarette now resting between his lips, he pushed his plate away and flipped through the book. As he smoothed out the creased page corner, Stanley cleared Sarge’s plate and laid a cinnamon roll wrapped in a paper napkin on the counter in front of Hoarse Voice. Taking the cigarette between his fingers, Sarge looked up just enough to allow him to see Hoarse Voice’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Standing up she shucked her black sweatered arms back into her coat sleeves, hauled a thick orange backpack off the floor and onto her stool, fished out a man’s style wallet from the pocket in its flap, laid out enough to cover the bill and the sort of tip an appreciative regular customer leaves, then yanked the Hudson Bay Coat belt tight enough to reveal a waist Sarge was frankly surprised to see considering the double breakfast special she’d just slammed down. Black straps went over both shoulders centering the pack. Her eyes slid sideways to the book in his hand just long enough to read the title as she picked up her sweet roll. When she pulled up the coat’s hood she caught him observing her in the mirror. She nodded at his reflection then turned and left.
Leaning back on his stool, Sarge watched her stop outside the tavern door while unwrapping a portion or the roll before walking off. He turned to lift his cup and found Stanley staring at him with a serious degree of curiosity as he poured himself a cup of coffee to enjoy in the current lull of customers. He set a side plate with Sarge’s usual sweet roll on it next to the paperback.
Sarge frowned at the barkeeper, shrugged then picked up his book. Sarge glared at the cover for a few moments before pulling a fiver out of his pocket and tossing it on the counter. Book in one hand, he grabbed the roll from the plate then made a fast exit leaving behind Stanley’s amused laughter.
Once outside in the snow hazy bleak excuse for morning sunshine, Sarge surveyed the street. Hoarse Voice was quickly jaywalking diagonally through the empty four way stop designated by red flashing lights. With his longer legs all that was required was a slightly quicker pace to close the half block distance between them. Setting the necessary pace, Sarge took a big bite of the sweet roll, focused his sights first on the orange back pack then her black leather boots and went in pursuit of quenching more than what overeasy eggs swimming in hot sauce could ever dream of satisfying.
Chasing Ice website http://www.chasingice.com/ Complete with link to James Balog’s photography and much more.
With all the ways there are to share information and communicate in this time of technological multitasking galore “mail” remains a constant source as both snail mail (those hard copies that are deposited in your own private hard copy mailboxes) and email (all the electronically created and delivered “soft” efforts to communicate via cyberspace complete with “in boxes” and mailing options. Anyone else recall the attempt by the American government to charge US all five cents per email we sent? Have I got that right? So far that effort to get a slice of the internet mail pie has failed. So far. I think. I may be wrong about this failure to milk us.). Why do we so enjoy getting all our forms of “mail”? One reason I enjoy my mail is because of the information it brings to my attention that I may well have otherwise missed or overlooked or simply never discovered. There is something to be said for “subscribing” to business websites for updates and notifications. Are you all bored and wondering what the heck any of this has to do with the Chasing Ice video? Okay. I subscribe to the Tivoli Cinemas in Westport (an area of Kansas City, Missouri) and as a result I receive a weekly email regarding which films are being shown and when at the hard copy theatre complete with big screens, comfy seats, and the rare option to buy or bring your own yum yums for consumption while viewing all sorts of films. If I did not have this subscription I probably would never have known that Chasing Ice is appearing exclusively at the Tivoli for the Kansas City area. Heck, I might not have even known it was appearing in any theatres if not for this email. Luckily the Tivoli is within reasonable driving distance for moi–who, as you’ve all guessed by now has the “yappy yaps” this morning.
Hey, they’re even offering The Nutcracker performed by the Royal London Ballet on December 23. Yes, a movie theatre will show a ballet film. If that’s not enough to raise your highbrows a notch or two then maybe The Royal Opera of London show of The Marriage of Figaro on December 30 will do the trick.
Oh and a film ticket stub will knock 50% off the price of one drink at the Broadway Cafe –which, in my opinion, offers The Best Cafe Mocha–bar none– anywhere. Definitely the best I’ve tasted in several states. (No, sorry, folks trying to staff the little upstart coffee shop in Pierre, SD, that’s not a legit cafe mocha you’re proffering. Not yet anyway. Keep trying though. Practice may pay off in time.) Broadway Cafe site http://www.broadwayroasting.com/
So, guess where I will venture, safe driving conditions being extant, during the week of December 21-27? Yep. I’ll be chasing Chasing Ice with a delicious cafe mocha accompanied by a honey soaked croissant. I’ll be enjoying what this world offers while it lasts.
Now, about all the ice chasing and film festival awards and climate change etc. . . .
It’s the midst of the season of shopping till everyone is dropping and yet there are people who need wood heat to survive a winter in South Dakota. One Spirit tries to meet this need–along with food and clothing needs all year round.
One Spirit is a federally registered non profit IRC 501 (c) (3) organization which provides direct assistance to the Lakota on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. They’re a Top Rated Non-Profit for 2012.
One Spirit, PO Box 3209, Rapid City, SD 57709
Visit their website —>>> http://nativeprogress.org/ to donate things, money for food, and clothing items needed by people –including those participating in the “Future Generations Ride” formerly known as the Big Foot Memorial Ride. There’s a link on the site to the Okini List which provides specific information regarding who needs what. The 191 mile Ride begins on Dec. 23 on the Standing Rock Reservation and ends on Dec. 29 at Wounded Knee/Cemetery Hill on the Pine Ridge Reservation.
Sixty dollars will provide a family with a box containing: Sweet potatoes, onions, potatoes, squash, apples, oranges, carrots, sausage, ham and turkey. Thirteen dollars and seventy-five cents will provide some toilet paper (2), shampoo (1) and Era (52 ounces). Any amount of donation is appreciated.
From One Spirit Food Program newsletter:
A ten-year old girl lives with her grandmother. Her mother died 2 years ago after being hit by a car driven by someone who had been drinking. Her father is in jail. She comes to the New Warrior camp because as she says “horses are her happiness.” Grandmother is caring for this young girl and her siblings. Often there is not enough food and also often not heat. This young girl tells us that being hungry is going to sleep so you can forget about the pains in your stomach.
An elder called the other day and asked if he could be put on the food program. He has a heart condition, can’t work, and is not expected to live too long. Whenever we have extra food on distribution day, Bamm tries to be sure something is given to him.
An elderly couple are caring for their grandchildren. The log cabin they live in is far from town and nestled in the woods, with no running water, bathroom or electric. The home is heated by a wood stove. The grandfather, being an elder, has trouble finding wood and carting it to the cabin. The children come home at night and have trouble doing their homework because the cabin is so dark. There are other people living in the cabin. For privacy the family has to dress outside in an outhouse. They have very little money and often run short of wood, food and other essentials.
These are not unusual stories – they are what we hear every day. One Spirit, with your help, tries to get food to as many people as possible. This month we have more than 100 families on our waiting list. With your help, every one of them will get food.
Oh yeah–don’t forget the WOOD. Everyone needs heat. I sincerely doubt that BP or Shell Oil will be donating any propane gas to those in need. Nor does everyone have a tank for propane. Yes, this America. People do freeze to death inside their homes on the reservations. People go hungry in the Land of the Overfeeder at the Golden Arches.
Ah some things just get better with time–like compost and the Urban Farming Guys’ permaculture antics in, of all places, Kansas City, Missouri. Who’d have thunk it in the city that wages war on its own trees? Mea culpa–indeed I have been remiss in not sharing all their wild and wonderful videos in a timely fashion. But today I’m on target as this is coming straight to you from my “inbox” this Sunday. Whose farming in your city? Hmm? FYI, it is possible to subscribe to TheUrbanFarmingGuys on YouTube if you want to learn about Aquaponics, Morrels, Tilapia farming, Christmas Tree Safety and much more.
If you’re wondering just what’s possible regarding sustainable living in an urban setting, then you need to discover these guys asap because they’re “making it so” all on their own steam.
The Guys have even been to Imphal, India–Seriously.
“Utterly delightful” — yes, I mean that with all sincerity. Admittedly the delight will depend on your sense of humor. If we’re on the same laugh track then all will be in tune. If not, then, ah well, you might not laugh but you still will learn from this highly accessible science writing. Unless you’re in the ranks or trenches –or the trees–with the likes of Rob Dunn, then I assure you there are things to learn in his The Wild Life of Our Bodies: Predators, Parasites, and Partners That Shape Who We Are Today. Okay none of that “oooo yucky parasites” business. Time to put the fear of all the unseen creepy crawlers aside and learn about the garden of our bodies and who’s living in it. This is not an exhaustive inventory of all the strange critters lurking in human stomachs and intestines. That’s not what Dunn is about in this book about very important interconnectedness of all living things. Yes, that’s what this book does–it explores our forgotten interconnections with other living creatures and the natural world at large. Sufferers of Crohn’s disease should read with care–in other words, be careful with whatever ideas you get about worms from Dunn’s book. If you’re into sustainable living and green cities then read Dunn’s text provides a serious foundation for the argument of urban farming on multiple levels. If you’re a “doctor” then it’s time to find out what’s been going with the work of the research scientists Dunn, a scientist with a penchant for ants, connects with all the glee of someone who has a vision of the bigger picture of life from the ant world on up. If you’re ill–or healthy–here are some serious ideas to consider as to why.
Got skin care on your mind? Rethinking your hair–everywhere? Consider what fur is for. Remember that supposedly useless appendix? Turns out it’s not so useless at all. Who says “milk does a body good”? I think it’s all the folks who mass produce that white stuff that is passed off as milk. It’s not. It’s something else entirely in my opinion. Is The Jungle Book one of your favorite stories? If so, I think you’ll enjoy The Wild Life of Our Bodies even more. Yes, it does have a tiger story in it–a real one about man/woman eating tigers. Ever wonder about the connection between our sight and our biology? Why do we behave as we do? Some tantalizing ideas are planted in Dunn’s mind garden–and they’re well worth watering.
Are you simply looking for some very good science writing with comic relief? Apparently Rob Dunn has a sense of humor and is not afraid of sharing it in his writing. This is a very cool thing because it makes Dunn’s writing so very engaging rather than stiflingly pedantic. This is truly an accessible book about very serious science. Do not be afraid of it! Dunn is not out to clobber readers with a massive ego. He’s trying to sow some seriously potential seeds for hope for our future survival as a species. Part VII of his book, “The Future of Human Nature” focuses on “The Reluctant Revolutionary of Hope” — Dickson Despommier. If you read no other part of this book except the last 26 pages–well then let it be these 26 pages.
If you care to read more than twenty-six pages other delicious tidbits await to tantalize your tongue (oh yes, you will learn a few things about tongues and taste buds too): the story of Tim White’s discovery of Ardi; Debra Wade’s struggle to deal with Crohn’s; why the ”bubble boy” died; Reynier’s long, long-term research in Paris to create a germ free world; an appendectomy performed in a submarine –complete with spoons and fingernail clippers; why we’ve done the weird thing of breeding beautiful roses without scent (a choice which baffles me to no end); a great deal about human fear of snakes–and quite a variety of other things–including the ways of leaf cutter ants.
If I were writing reviews for employment, and therefore funds, I’d give Rob Dunn’s The Wild Life of Our Bodies a full five-star rating (as in five out of five possible stars). I don’t currently write for monetary rewards. So there’s no cash incentive for me to praise Dunn’s personable writing, vision, and thinking. But praise I do. Having read enough deadly dry scientific texts in another life I can appreciate what Rob Dunn offers–science ideas presented in a manner that entices one to explore further rather to retreat after being bludgeoned by a massive ego swimming in incomprehensible jargon. Go forth and discover The Wild Life of OurBodies–read, learn, and share widely. Please! How our future as a species unfolds may well depend on such seeds.
“The secret that runs throughout this book, the one I hope to have shown more than I have discussed, is that our bodies and our lives only make sense in the context of other species. Only by looking at other lives do we really understand our own.” Rob Dunn
I tweaked the recipe a tad to suit my own needs. It’s the best pumpkin cake I’ve made so far. If you’re looking for a Halloween Treat this might suit you too. Yes, it’s worth getting REAL maple syrup for the glaze. My tweaks can be found among the comments. Yes, the cake tastes as good as it looks. Mine is half gone.
A BOO! Too!: Ahhh the mysteries of Paris in 1915! There’s a free download of Les Vampires available at Silent Films. Any Irma Vep fans lurking out there? For tonight’s viewing pleasure I’ve got a disc copy from my public library which never ceases to amaze me with all its wonderful book and film treats year round. Discovered several interesting posters and still photographs for this silent film online. If anyone has a favorite please share it in a comment.
Click Poster fo visit Silent Films online.
As for all the “comments” left on various older blog posts–some are puzzling, some have been sent to the spam folder for total lack of relevance, and some folks perhaps ought to check the dates of those older posts in regard to the currency of the information they offer. I don’t “update” information which was presented as correct at the time of posting but which has since changed.
Safe regards to anyone who has had to deal with Sandy–The Storm– not the very nice dog who occasionally comments on this blog.
Click image to view film teaser and to contribute.
The Impact
Our documentary explores the sacredness of water and how the industrialization of the Navajo Nation continues to disrupt our traditional way of life. We feel it is important for our audience to visually experience a piece of the Navajo Way Of Life. It is vital to the documentary to include the connection between Navajo Mythology and the importance of the lands that have been desecrated by industrial development.
Many Navajo families do not have access to potable running water and are forced to haul unregulated and untreated water for their daily needs. Many elderly Navajo’s are forced to allow livestock to drink from toxic water sources, thus contributing to numerous health risks among families throughout the Navajo Reservation.
From a youth perspective we’re telling a story of a Navajo Philosophy that is being endangered by an overwhelming change in politics, resource management and modern society. We understand the obligations our ancestors passed onto us and have devoted much of our time to tell this story about our people.
Jake and I have been working on the documentary since Mid-2010. Throughout our travels we have met people who have been exposed to uranium and have since developed cancer. It’s heartbreaking for us to witness how close to home this issue has become. We feel so connected with these issues, that we have dedicated nearly all of our time and personal resources to this story.
Both Jake and I have lost grandparents to uranium, to cancer, and we each feel an obligation to use our skills as filmmakers to capture the stories of our people. So that somewhere down the road, when we ourselves are old, we can tell these stories of the importance of the land, and the water that binds us together.
Water is Life is an inside film job by Deidra Peaches and Jake Hoyungowa. Please consider putting some fresh water in their film tanks. Change adds up when we share. Time is short so share however you can now. Where’s that Tweety-bird?
What’s in your water?
Shemekia Copeland’s “Dirty Water” at the Blue Mountain Blues Festival in Danielsville, PA, 2011.
Sorry for all the links folks, but I think it’s best that people looking for information regarding this Recall effort see/hear/read it at places where it can be found online so that they have those sources for the future.
I’ve been following Dine’ water issue and watching to see how this all plays out with much interest in how the Navajo people are working together. There’s only one thing I can contribute to this story. It’s been over 30 years since I spent some time at what was then Ganado Community College in Arizona. While there I learned that many Navajo and Hopi people had to haul water from wells, from natural potholes in the ground that caught rainwater, from 55 gallon drums, and anything else that would serve, set out to catch rainwater or that were filled from natural sources and hauled back home. At that time they’d been doing all this water hauling forever. Thirty years later they’re still doing it in many communities. In a video for SB 2109 Sen. John McCain used a photograph of Navajo people drawing water from a well and he made a comment that they have no infrastructure to deliver water to their homes. McCain did not go on to say that this should not be happening in 2012. He did not say, “These people need infrastructure to get water to their homes.” What he did say is that water can be used effectively by OTHERS and should be!
Here I sit where with the twist of a wrist I can turn on a flow of water into a kitchen sink and fill a glass with clean drinking water at will. Another twist and I can send water through a hose at a drip to the local heat exhausted birds foraging in the front yard. I can flush an indoor toilet all day long. Hot and cold showers are available on demand. The laundry machine is just a few steps away for washing clothes. The only water I haul is in a plastic two gallon pail to the little bird beach in the backyard under the trees beyond the reach of the hose. Can you imagine having to haul ALL your drinking, cooking, bathing, gardening water all the time? Think about it. I suggest Shelly, McCain and Kyl think about it too. Furthermore, I suggest they DO it themselves. Yes, I suggest those fellows all get dropped off at the Navajo community furthest from any water whatsoever and be left to their own devices to get their water supply in order to survive. All on their own with no one to help them carry a single drop.
Are you ready for some do it yourself yum yums? Eh? Sure you are. I am always ready for cuisine that tickles the tongue and stirs the imagination. If your idea of good eating primarily entails KFC then go forage elsewhere because this is not mega chain food chop chop. If Yvette Van Boven can’t turn you onto to creating your own meals from scratch–without a shyte-load of expensive culinary toys–then you are doomed to plastic wrapped microwave hell for eternity. Yes, you too can learn how to make bread and cheese and sorbet from scratch via this Dutch Cookbook of 2010 Award Winner which is now available in English stateside. All those luscious red tomatoes loitering whispered slyly to me from the library shelf, “Hey there. You, pick us up! You know you want to. No regrets, we promise!” on first sight. Then, you know how we all do with cookbooks, a random opening and flipping of the pages to see if anything looked good enough to spend time actually making is in evidence. O and was there ever! Oof Verschuren’s photograph of Gooseberry Jam with Orange (p.15) enticed me into spending time right there and then with Yvette’s Zucchini Flapjacks with Basil Cream (p. 54), Biscuits (p.30), Red Bell Pepper Soup with Orange and Tarragon-Basil Oil (p. 1330, Papardelle with Spicy Lamb Ragu and Capers (p. 216), and Raspberry Sorbet (p. 315), and -well you’ve got the idea by now, I hope, that Yvette’s Home Made totally captivated moi via the salivary glands.
If you’re more into photography than food -well–that’s another reason to taste this book’s delights. There are beautiful landscapes of Paris, people, and how to make bread and how to make cheese. If you’re a writer then take note of the engaging and encouraging voice of Home Made: “Let’s get going . . . .” Yvette does not adore ice cream but apparently Oof, her husband, loves it and makes a great deal of it according to his own notions of flavors. Most of which will NOT be found via Ben & Jerry in the frozen food aisle. Guess what, everything looks doable. Intimidating curious would be do it yourself cooks is not the name of Yvette’s game. This is do it yourself cooking presented as it ought to be–try it, change it, go for it, make it your own! Have a great time and enjoy everything you eat!
Oof’s photographs are the sort that fool your hand into reaching out for the green tea ice cream, apple crisps and even the dog biscuits. Yes, the dog biscuits. If you’re a gardener lucky enough to have zucchini, carrots, and onions galore then get a grip on this cookbook for everything from roasting that zucchini to stuffing peppers with cheese you’ve made yourself. If you’re sick and tired of all the same old flavors and textures presented time and again in tried and true cooks’ books then wander through Home Made for some inspiration not found from a Pampered Chef party. Living well entails eating well–and you don’t have to be an Iron Chef to enjoy every meal.
Okay, I’m off to get some raspberries to make sorbet!
Go see all that Yvette does herself in Amsterdam and Paris. What’s a food stylist do? Click the photograph below to find out. Enjoy!
“Today, we tell Congress that we ‘sacrificed’ ourselves for the national good,” Oliver Houck wrote in the Tulane Environmental Law Journal. “Never has there been such a willing, complicit sacrifice. We made a bundle of money, wasted most of it, and blackballed anyone who questioned what it was doing to the Louisiana coast. About 70 years ago, Louisiana made a deal with the oil and gas industry. The industry would get what it wanted; the state would get a piece of the take.”
Ah yes, you all know the drill–find a writer whose voice, intelligence, and style you enjoy in one book then go out and see if they’re consistent enough writers to work their word magic on your imagination AGAIN. Having enjoyed the horror story that is Fruitless Fall, o yes it is a modern version of a very very scary story, I was game for more of Rowan Jacobsen’s work. I decided to venture to the great ghostly delta of the mighty Mississippi via Shadows On the Gulf, A Journey Through Our Last GreatWetland. If you’re fans of Jacobsen’s A Geography of Oysters don’t fret–the agony and ecstasy of gulf oysters is part of Shadows. It couldn’t be otherwise. Now if you’re looking for an intense screenplay like blow-by-blow of events in slow motion about the Deepwater Horizon go search elsewhere. Jacobsen provides a sequence of such events but, unlike several other slick tomes, this is not the foundation of this book. If you’re looking for where to lay blame for oily events in the Gulf look no further than your mirror. Yes, you read correctly–the nearest mirror. Jacobsen does not flinch at laying blame for the ongoing insanity of the oil industry smack dab on those who fuel the DEMAND for oil every single day. This is a basic principle of supply and demand economics–really. We create the demand for more oil by our lifestyles, especially in the United States, and the oil industry profits, literally, by providing the supply. Face it, in general we are a bunch of hardcore oil addicts with no 12 step program on the boards.
Now don’t get me wrong, Jacobsen raises this very important ethical issue but that’s not all he does as he provides some fundamental history about the Gulf area. We get a history of a prominent oyster supplier, the workings of the huge Mississippi River as the garbage dump of the midwest of America, the levees, the oil industry, the wetlands and the people. Now the element of ‘people’ is the real wild card in play here. Perhaps the major issue here, as in Fruitless Fall, is that people indoctrinated with western European (yes, that is the origin of our mode of thinking in the states) mentality just can’t leave well enough ALONE. People have this nutty idea that humans are capable of improving on the complex perfection of Nature. We do this with every dam we build, every river we divert, every wetland we destroy. Ah the poor Army Corps of Engineers–sorry folks, at least beavers know what the hell they’re really doing when they build dams–and more importantly ‘why’. Guess what we get in return? The destruction of the very system upon which we are dependent for survival of our species. If we just let Nature be itself and operate correctly and lived in accord with how the system works –well, we might not be facing the operating system crisis heading our way like a tsunami of incredible magnitude.
If you don’t have any idea about the BIG picture regarding the Gulf of Mexico–and how the rest of America ties in– then Jacobsen’s book provides a very decent foundation for getting an idea of the interconnectedness of many things–including all the crap chemicals used to scrub toilets every day. The destruction of your environment is not out of sight and out of your mind. It’s just out of mind because we don’t pay any attention to the things in plain sight–such as every petroleum product–and the products that ‘clean’ all that oily stuff down the drain.
The other thing in plain sight is “us” in all our incarnations. You’ll meet a few folks via Jacobsen’s explorations of the gulf area–locals, scientists, fisherman, etc. And it’s a very mixed big of individuals for sure. I don’t know how the likes of Virgil Dardar and Gene Cossey would mix on the same boat. But I do know what a vast swamp of thinking exists that allows for the existence of such men and women – and the mentality of oil executives and politicians all on the lookout for the almighty DOLLAR.
Near the end of the book, “The Most Important River You’ve Never Heard Of,” Jacobsen takes us to a wonderful still functioning wetland area-the Atchafalaya swamp-and leaves us with not the ”if” but the “when” it will be destroyed by us in our infinite ignorance, boundless greed and shortsighted view that humans dominate Nature. We will not have the last laugh in this global drama in which we deny our own role in the web of life on Earth. So read and think about what sort of lifestyle can you imagine that might benefit all living things. Come on, stretch your cranial membranes–if you dare. Imagine Life without Oil.
Violating copyright births bad karma---imagine a mad hacker you'll never see coming--nor catch going. Respect = my work is my work and your work is your work.
Everything posted here is my work, copyrighted, unless otherwise noted. Comments aside. Om
Streaming Online
For Kili 90.1 fm, Pine Ridge, SD, click the image below for The Voice of the Lakota Nation.
Kili 90.1 fm The voice of the Lakota Nation
Native America Calling ~ Native Voice
Native America Calling on Native Voice
pantry
Pantry Goods
Cemetery Hill, Wounded Knee, Mugged by a Squirrel for a plum, Ed's driving, Art for Art's Sake, painting nudes, Cheyenne River Indian Reservation, KKFI, Crazy Horse, Reading, Marry, Critical Path, Political Missionary, White Wolves, teaser (1), We Shall Remain Shallow, Winter Fox Frank, Wes Studi, The Only Good Indian, Spotted Elk, naked woman centered, devotees (Crazy Horse), Blue Heron, Critical Path, An Adaptable Woman, and other plums ripening and Tanka Bars.
om mani padme hum jewel in the lotus wahupa qi prana universal life energy
