Archive for March, 2009

No. Bueno.

I feel that for almost a year I’ve had a pretty good relationship with public transportation. It’s gotten me where I needed to go (albeit with a few mishaps which were mostly my fault) and it usually did so in a reasonable amount of time. I’ve never been assaulted or anything ridiculous. Granted, the majority of my riding has been done with my clients on the way to and from work, and more often than I would have preferred the chariot reminded me more of a public restroom than anything else. All in all though, it’s treated me okay.

There have been a couple of exceptions to the compromise I have made with Joe Metro.

I am not a small talker. I never developed an appreciation for quaint and useless conversation in public places with strangers. When I started taking the bus my first line of defense against finding myself in situations like that was a pair of headphones. And then another pair…and so on. Turns out Lucy likes snacking on small things with wires. My second, and current, line of defense is a good book (truth be told, I’ve gotten more ‘reading for pleasure’ done on the bus in the past year than I probably have in the past three years combined). Unfortunately a good book is no match for a pair of headphones, specifically when it happens to be a book others have heard of.

The status quo question is, “is that a good book?” Which in and of itself is a maddening question to feel obligated to answer. Why would I be reading it if it wasn’t enticing? I handle the question well though. I simply answer, ‘yes’, and dutifully return to reading it which usually provides the obvious sign that I would rather read (as I had clearly been doing) than chat. A couple of months ago I found myself caught in the trap of small talk however. The gentlemen that addressed me did so in a most sneaky way…by noticing what I was reading and starting off about other books on the same subject and changing the tactic into, ‘that’s a good book’. Harmless enough and I was in a good mood that day so politely thanked him for the suggestions. Until he snuck in a ”your hair looks very pretty” (what?!?) and then a “would you like to get a cup of coffee or a bite to eat sometime?” I politely responded that unfortunately that wouldn’t be possible (1. because he looked suspiciously at least 20 years my senior, and 2. because I’m just not all that interested in agreeing to meet up with men that are perfect strangers…it’s a sort of concerned-for-my-safety thing I have going on). He just happened to get off at one of the next two stops and I thought nothing more of it. Until today.

I started reading Twilight after my friend gave a glowing review of it. I was engrossed in this on the way home today. That was, until the individual on my left offered the following chit-chat…”excuse me, your hair is very pretty”. My automatic response was to begin to turn in order to say ’thank you’ with the full intention of immediately returning to my book in order to discourage further conference (as an aside all I was thinking initially was, “really. Cause I’m about three months overdue for a touch-up and that is obvious). Low and behold I realized it was the same 20-years-my-senior gentleman that asked me out two months ago and only when I actually made eye contact heard, ”would you like to get some coffee or a bite to eat sometime?” Good lord. The same conversation over again…”that won’t be possible”.

It’s good in more than one way that my car is getting fixed. I have the distinct impression that I will be breaking up with Metro post haste.

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Where I was (at least part of it)

I don’t think it matters precisely what it is that eventually pulls us to our history or roots although I like to think that at some point most of us do get drawn to it. When I look back at the span of about 12 years of my life it isn’t one certain situation or one certain time period that drew me to it; it’s been a bit of a steady march, if you will. That being said I can recall distinct legs of the march that did have a little more significance in relation to wanting to understand more.

I often have odd dreams (yes, I realize that odd dreams are not unique to just me) which initially are usually dismissed by me as irrelevant to everything. Some of them come back up though and appear to have more relevance as a result of some real life event or situation that happens later. A couple of weeks ago I had a dream in which Jen popped up…smack dab in the middle of accidental dreamy images/events completely unconnected to her. To be quite honest with exception of noticing it when I woke up the next morning, I didn’t give it a ton of thought. However today I once again ran across one of my favorite pictures of us and consequently cried for a while. The immedate connection was obvious to me; clearly it happens to be one of those times when I have some ‘dealing with it’ to do (to be clear I do not think that we ever truly get ‘done’ dealing with the death of a loved one; grief is weird and sometimes it will hide for a while but eventually I think we are reminded of it again and deal with it some more). There was another connection which at first wasn’t as immediately obvious to me.

I think it has been times of strife or sadness which, either purposely or coincidentally, have drawn me a little closer to wanting to ‘get’ part of where I came from. Thinking of both sides is a bit daunting so I started with Native American (there’s still Norwegian to go). In my perception of American culture (which is obviously not necessarily “correct”) when someone dies we usually have a ceremony to remember them right after their passing but don’t necessarily tend to continue to have ceremonies to remember people that aren’t here anymore. Some of us do and I have had personal experience with this but for the most part I don’t see that it’s necessarily an expected part of the culture to do so.

As of late I’ve been chatting more with an Uncle on my Dad’s side which alone is clearly awesome, but even better he has provided me with some starting points online to understanding more about that side of my culture. And I’ve actually been reading about it. For a very simplified narrative on our history courtesy of the ever dubious, Wikipedia:

The Ojibwa (also Ojibway or Ojibwe) or Chippewa (also Chippeway) is the largest group of Native Americans-First Nations north of Mexico, including Métis. They are the third largest in the United States, surpassed only by Cherokee and Navajo[citation needed]. They are equally divided between the United States and Canada. Because they were formerly located mainly around Sault Ste. Marie, (Sault Ste. Marie is where my people hail from!!!) at the outlet of Lake Superior, the French referred to them as Saulteurs. Ojibwa who subsequently moved to the prairie provinces of Canada have retained the name Saulteaux

As a major component group of the Anishinaabe peoples—which includes the Algonquin, Nipissing, Oji-Cree, Odawa and the Potawatomi—the Ojibwe peoples number over 56,440 in the U.S., living in an area stretching across the north from Michigan to Montana. Another 77,940 of main-line Ojibwa, 76,760 Saulteaux and 8,770 Mississaugas, in 125 bands, live in Canada, stretching from western Quebec to eastern British Columbia. They are known for their birch bark canoes, sacred birch bark scrolls, the use of cowrie shells, wild rice, copper points, and for their use of gun technology from the British to defeat and push back the Dakota nation of the Sioux (1745). (bold emphasis is mine)

Which is all fine and dandy but not effectively exciting in my opinion. The enchanting (at least to me) and most relevant (also at least to me) information comes from actual tribal members. According to Fred Harrington jiibaykwe (ghost suppers) are ceremonies that originated from when tribes would move the remains of loved ones from temporary to permanent burial grounds (link: religion, under funerals). On the same website, if you click on the link that says ‘ghost suppers’ more is revealed about the custom. What I took out of what I read is that it is to remember and honor others that have passed regardless of when. Additionally the same link also describes a custom on Halloween to remember those that have passed. In contrast, in American culture the custom on Halloween is to dress up children to go house to house and get candy which in relation seems (at least to me) to lack any spiritual meaning (but that is also my own judgment). If one does not have children and is of the mind to celebrate and intake spirits (or not) one dresses up and attends parties of various kinds. Also, in my own judgment to lack real meaning.

Maybe what I’m selfishly looking for is a means to remember people that I miss and are not here anymore in a way that I can perceive as not so sad (for example, not having to have it smack me in the face all of a sudden and spend a whole afternoon in tears but instead remember and deal with it in a way that honors them more and is less about me). (Is it possible that I have an ulterior motive to learning about my culture and if so is that bad?) But then that also means I’m continuing to attach the ultimate sadness to someone’s death all on my own when I could instead be attaching a different emotion to it. It’s all heady stuff to be quite sure and I’m not even sure I’m getting close to what it all really means.

On a sort of side note, but not really, if you were to check out the website and check under the ‘ethics’ link, specifically under “first philosophy, to women” you would find what (again sort of selfishly) touches my heart most about my culture. Word for word (part of it at least) would say the following:

The cycle of life for the woman is baby, girl, woman, and grandmother. These are the four directions of life. She has been given by natural-laws the ability to reproduce life. The most sacred of all things is life. Therefore, all men should treat her with dignity and respect. Never was it our way to harm her mentally or physically. Indian men were never abusers. We always treated our women with respect and understanding.

Yes, I get that nowadays (and obviously before-adays) this does not always happen. The important part of it is that culturally it was such that women were respected/honored and not abused which is in clear contrast to how ‘American’ culture began and how it sadly, often plays out today. On this note alone, if only we could go back a ways and start over. But at this point, as a woman that is part of this culture I am sort of obligated to go forward facilitating this idea whereas in certain situations before I allowed abuse in various forms. Not that I necessarily needed this information to carry this out in my life having been through it before, but having the knowledge and caring about it just makes it that more important to me.

Thanks Jen, for a lot of things.  scan0001

 

 

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