Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Bury my heart at wounded Washington



It’s amazing that we haven’t learned much in over 600 years. The battle ground may be different, but the rules and broken rules haven’t changed an iota. Why, America, do you insist on continuing to persecute the indigenous Americans? Wasn’t stealing their land, murdering their people, and shipping them to reservations enough? Must you continue to persecute them by not recognizing the local Indian tribes, like the Pamunkey, legally?

Sheesh, it makes me angry that some people will create issues in order to keep the powers that from doing not only what is ethical but also what is moral. But then, it is Washington, and if there is one thing they have proven time and again they lack common sense. It harkens to those lines of Emma Lazarous:

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.
Give us your politicians, the wayward,
The muddled asses yearning to take bribes.

Well maybe those last two lines were ad libbed. Eh, and author is an author after all.
Perhaps Joe Heim said it better in his article when he said:

The Pamunkey Indians were supposed to learn this week whether they would become the first Virginia tribe to receive federal recognition — a status they regard as long overdue for a tribe that claims Pocahontas as an ancestor.

But that didn’t happen. Not at all, instead Kevin Washburn, the Interior Department’s assistant secretary for Indian affairs, says he will not make a final decision on the Pamunkey case until the end of July, a delay that has given critics hope that they will succeed in derailing the Pamunkey application.

Wait a minute, what are you talking about critics trying to derail something that really shouldn’t be asked for. It doesn’t make sense. True as it may seem, there are actually people trying to undermine the request, which apparently would open the doors to allowing – gasp – casinos.

According to Heim’s article, the anti-casino group Stand Up for California sent a letter to the Bureau of Indian Affairs claiming several Pamunkey tribe members are descendants of a pre-Civil War free African Americans, and are not Indians. Meanwhile, a group of congresswomen argued in a different letter that the tribe has long discriminated against African Americans and women.

So I guess doing the right thing also has to come under the purview of the politically correct. Are we truly worried about whether the Pamunkey may actually be able to make money? Or is this just another way to persecute and mistreat the only true Americans.

Friday, April 3, 2015

Dear Jimmy




It seems odd to me to pull into the Food Lion parking lot and know that I won’t be seeing your smiling face any more. I have known you for most of your life, from the times when my boys stayed with your mom and you and Andrew were both in diapers. It seems an eternity now; and I can only wish it were another eternity and an eternity yet to come.

Over the years I have watched you grow into an interesting man. Who would have expected you to be so independent and determined? Certainly not me, but I think Andrew and Craig both knew about the Jimmy few of us saw. Despite the years and the changes that came over the three of you, you had managed to remain best friends. Time could go by and eventually your paths would cross and it would seem like old times were here again. It wasn’t an unusual site for me to come home from work with you and Cerb, and Craig, and Andrew sitting in the living room or on the screen porch.

What I wouldn’t give for that scene to resolve out of my misted eyes and pained heart. As you know, I was proud of you for sticking to your guns, literally, and standing your ground when it seemed the world had turned against you. I knew you were onto something then and wished you luck. 

We need to spend more with our friends before the unthinkable happens. I spoke with your brother John Wednesday and told him that I drive past your house every day when I come home from work, and I wave as I pass by as if somehow your parents know I am there or feel the warmth and pleasure of my fluttering hand.
But now I know it just isn’t so. I need to stop the car once in a while and make sure they see me and that I see them. Too long have I tunneled my way back and forth on Roslyn Ave as if I needed to beat a path home and nothing else mattered. Now I know it’s the wrong approach, too late, but not too too late to fix.

Go in peace, Jimbo. Know that we love you and will hold you in our hearts and minds forever. The time we spent with you may have been shorter than it ought to have been, but we can find you in our memories and in our happy moments recalling different Jimbo stories over the years. Know that I will miss you, as I know Geordie, Andrew and Craig are all missing you now. Go in peace, friend, and may the love and warmth of those left behind warm you.

With all my love,
David