By Ricey Wild
How can it possibly be August? I feel like this year has just begun and here it is half over and looking toward fall time. There are times I want to keep the moments and drag them out before winter hits us with all the bitter cold, ice and snow. Brrr! I admit I didn’t get out much at all despite having said I would to myself. Well, the mosquitos torment me anyway and when I was in hospital they found a woodtick on my back. Ish!
Those pesky critters I never miss and have slapped myself silly, killing them quickly as I can. I’m thinking I will have a ‘Bat Box’ built because they eat skeeters and some guinea hens to munch up the ticks in the yard. Ah-hah! SEE? There are more natural methods to use without deadly chemicals. As long as they are indigenous to the area you are in.
At least the milkweed plants came back. From what I can see many caterpillars have made their transition to Monarchs. Spiritual. I feel uplifted and happy to have them so near, in my front window and in the backyard. Blessed.
Sadly, a major portion of the global population is not doing well at all, due directly to climate change. And the capitalists are deep in denial at what their own eyes can see. I remember reading an article by a climatologist who said that “We need to study Indigenous Peoples ways of agriculture”, ect…to slow the ecological disasters that we humans have inflicted upon ourselves. No, not everyone to the same degree (no pun intended), I blame the greed and corruption by industrialized nations that are evil by nature and ignorant by choice. Sorry if I bummed yooz out. Pretty much all I do is watch news and then try to not watch news. But one can not be unaware of the climate crisis, especially if one is directly affected by it.
Folks, it does appear that ‘The End of Times’ is upon us. I used to laugh when those old Christian self-proclaimed prophets would state a certain date and time and nothing happened. “Repent now!” they yelled at us Sinners. We sinners just went about our business; the believers wailed and prepared for imminent death. (Hmm…seems like I just described a cult). The Cult of Disastrous Denial. Seems like if they go down we go too. Monsters!
When that time comes, I’ll be alright because I was ‘saved’ many years ago when I was a kid. Yep! I attended a Christian revival with the neighbors who also babysat me and my sister. There was a family onstage exhorting people back to the true faith, they sang and at the end invited people up for a hug. I don’t know what came over me but I went to the stage, absolutely ugly crying, bawling my eyes out and got my hug. I felt so awful and guilty, like Jesus knew I found my sister’s Halloween candy and ate some of it. Something terrible I will have to answer for.
Old people repeat themselves, so if you are a long time reader of this column, miigwech! Thank you for being here. My Gramma Rose had stories about everyone in the family and her friends. I like to think that her repeating life events is like oral history, all of the silly, the sad and downright absurd. I carry my Gram’s words about her life events and to me it is an honor and a blessing. Before passing onto the next plane of being she said she would always look after me as she did in life. I know my beloved Gramma is near me always.
The reason I bring Gram up is because I too love telling stories about my miz-adventures and real life for me, an Indigenous woman who now repeats herself and has a story for everyone. My first column was published in November 1998 while I was still living in what I named, “The Big City” but was actually Minneapolis, MN. We moved from rural Bemidji, MN to the urban jungle when I was 12. I still miss the city.
I had made a promise to my Grampa that I would look after his wife, Rose, when she needed me. I had been to Cloquet, MN because my grandparents lived here, right next to Fond du Lac Reservation where we are enrolled. I had always felt a connection to the lands here and thought it would be alright, even giving up a new career and my beloved apartment in Minneapolis.
Some of my family lived here too, so my son and I would not be lonely. Until reality hit and I experienced severe culture shock. I have to leave here; will be continued next month.
