The fireflies at sunset, a young moon and dust that came from the Sahara brought a sky lit with the colors of the rainbow, brilliantly resting on the horizon, under lit by the on and off lighting from the bugs sailing along the tall grass in the field.

Images like that I have seen with my own eyes, but other pictures that I can call up to memory came because of the travels of a couple who have been seeing the world's sights and posting them for the stay-at-homes to marvel over. Jerry and Laura Edington shared their travels and now are moving on for keeps to Fayetteville, AR. I hope to be learning about their adventures in the new neighborhood and what they will see as they bike the trails there since moving about as world travelers ceases during this pandemic.

Americans may not be welcome for now in ports of entry where the virus is contained and life in those countries is rebounding. I remember a time in Norway the summer after the World Trade Towers were attacked when Americans were loved abroad. Now we are harbingers of the plague with the numbers of deaths climbing each day in our country and we are not weeping for our losses, but clinging to the thought of rebounding our economy and defending our right to freedom no matter what.

I was reflecting on the peace of the sunset and enjoying the heat that is building this summer and waiting my turn in our above ground pool which will begin after the last of the tadpoles gain their legs and walk themselves out of it. The thousands who have met me when I gazed into the water, as they came to the surface to get the air they were finding a need. But then remembering the Edingtons and the impact a single couple can have on a community and how many memories they can conjure up for us after they have long moved on.

That picturesque sundown got me thinking about Sundown towns and about the rally this week in a town once belonging to that category. Black Lives Matter Peaceful Protest. These types of events can gin up fears and real live feelings come to the surface. I remember before heading out to go to Standing Rock after seeing how peaceful protesters standing to protect sacred lands and water were being treated by state and federal troops, how I made sure my will was up-to-date and once there, had the phone number of a civil rights attorney written in permanent marker all down the skin on my left arm. There are times in American history when real people in little towns, and in big can stand together and peacefully ask for the changes that can be made to make this country better in our lifetimes. This rally might bring forward deep feelings of impending doom or a sense of being part of a larger movement while staying in your own neighborhood.

It will be the 144th anniversary of the Battle of Greasy Grass or as history has referred to it as Custer's Last Stand at the Little Big Horn when the speaking begins at the little rally at the Rocket Park.

Our tribal brothers live here in every 4th house and yes, we would like there to be a Indian Lives Matter peaceful protest for us and for the murdered Native women and for the list of wrongs we have endured, but we understand deeply there are great wrongs that need addressing and yet we can be part of helping to stand for others, too. We are generous in our desires and hopes for other dark skinned people, whose ancestors worked for us, and in our place when our ancestors were lost to violence or plagues.

Be there or in spirit join in. Watch the sundown in a different way that evening, let the setting sun of indifference set for the last time.

Care and show that you care for the individuals in your life while you wear a mask to protect yourself and those in our wider world. That wider world the Edingtons traveled to and shared with us on Facebook is out there waiting to be discovered again.

Respectfully Submitted

~  Rebecca Jim

https://www.theadanews.com/news/local_news/dust-and-sand-from-sahara-desert-may-reach-oklahoma/article_ab1f12f2-cd74-58e5-b1c2-dc07b7857b81.html

My life seems to center around a particular season each year. I plan important events either before or after it and events that should come up and interrupt it could be for the best of intentions with the grandest of people but are simply endured with tinges of resentment that I try my best to conceal or to talk myself out of feeling. But it is Blackberry Picking time that toots my horn.

I can hardly wait for it to be light enough to begin. But there must be light and one of the best times ever is just when the sun starts responding with the dew on the ripest of the blackberries in the field. Eye to eye with that glint, the roundness of each of the segments of the berry. After a great morning and evening picking I actually SEE ripe blackberries all evening long when I close my eyes. In those moments, the berries showing up are the ripest, the fullest in what seems like a private slideshow.

Decking out for the picking has become a ritual. Long pants tucked into socks. Tie on boots, laces tucked to keep them tied. Long sleeves, or jean jacket collar up and the hat, of any sort on covering my ears. In other words, I look like it is winter. Then the picking, then when the bending, stretching and isometrics of the exercise picking blackberries has worn me out or the heat of the day gives me the clue to stall out for a bit, the berries are put up, the boots stay on the porch steps and the rest of the clothing goes directly into the washer while the wearer gets straight to the shower. As they say, knock on wood, no chiggers so far this season. It is thought to be fact that for every perfect black segment on a berry, there are several chiggers hanging out looking for a better host with real blood, not that juice they are fooled with time and again.

Black is beautiful is also in season, as we look as a nation at the color of skin for some in an entirely new manner. Our countrymen and women wearing black so deeply want simply to be proud of that color and would like to know simply less hate for being in that skin. Brown can be hated too. I have felt that and understand the bewilderment as a child when stones and names followed me home only to be comforted by my bi-racial parents. When they married, my Cherokee grandmother resented my white mother, while many of my mother's friends wondered why she would marry an Indian. So their children, me and my 2 brothers are mixed blood kids.

My brothers can pass for white and I can't. Another thing happened when I was a kid, it was during the Korean War and there were many Korean orphans who were adopted in the US, and because of the cute haircuts my mom gave me, I could pass for one of the orphans, too, who didn't get a lot of love in the neighborhood either. So I understand deeply the feelings attached to skin, a thing we are all born into. Skin is the largest organ in our body and when you should sunburn and change it briefly it returns to its original color without missing a beat.

This skin we are in causes us to be labeled and labels are another way to call people names and names could be only words, but these kind of words are usually said using a tone that is unforgettable and totally clearly demeaning.

The summer I was 9 going on 10 our family went to live in the Southwest, in Aztec, New Mexico and Kingman, Arizona, where our little rented house had a grocery store around the corner. That summer the store had a special guest: Aunt Jemima. I saw the poster and went on my own to see her. She didn't seem happy, not smiling like the images I had seen. There wasn't a line of people waiting to MEET her or talk with her or hope to get a sample of one of her very own pancakes. Near the tail end of the 1950's the Civil Rights movement was about help her retire, but it has taken this movement 155 years after the Civil War to remove her name and image from the products the Quaker Oats company had been selling since they bought her from another company. That slave image "Mammy" was a real woman, an actual slave who over the century and a half has been on a lot of American breakfast tables.

So how can we change the way we think about color about skin color and the people in skin a color you might not have many friends wearing? Pick a color. I choose black. And by choosing black I will see it as beautiful. And during this season, this season which falls between the anniversary of the Tulsa Race Massacre and Juneteenth, each day's morning and that time before dusk, I will pick the berries and love the color and know that others can and will in the future come to know black as beautiful too.

Respectfully Submitted ~ Rebecca Jim

Now, I understand at some point back the designation of elder became a word that describes me. It is hard to imagine where all the years have gone even though they all were filled to the brim with life and the people in it. Through those years there have been changes, personal decision driven, some accidental and for the most part the years have not caused a great deal of wear on the tread of me. It has not been so easy for some of my friends and family. But for the most part, we muscle on.

Recent events with the pandemic and the extreme emotions felt by masses of people, enough so they have as they say, "Gone to the Streets." This is a thing people in this country have been doing for what? almost since its beginnings. But throughout the years we have been a nation, the changes happen in the streets, then they happen at elections, which we know can have consequences.

This time will not be the first time there are stark divisional choices whether that be local or national. Rhetoric can be harsh, can wear on friends, but can tear families apart. This has happened in mine recently. With the relatively young who have not weathered the yo-yo of elections, feelings are raw right now. Things are not going like they thought they would. There are people in the streets, stopping traffic and it is working. They are changing the culture in this country. There is a right we have to free speech and this is how democracy works, but using that voice, those words to start a movement and make the lives of our citizens better, safer, more prosperous. But change can sound like losing but we can reframe this.

We take turns in this country. No one wins all the time. No party stays in power forever. Voters change their minds or don't and that is the way our country flows for those allotted years.

Several years ago,  an elder woman I so admired, came into my office and gently shut the door. I knew this must be very serious to her, so I stopped everything to be able to give full attention to her and the issue she was bringing with her. She mustered up the courage and only asked one question. "Was our president good for the environment?" I have thought of this throughout his tenure and the answer I gave then would be ever so much more adamant now. The changes to our environmental regulations and the protections that have been put in place by the only federal agency with Environmental as a Middle Name, have been stripped away, one after the other, Clean Air Act, not so Clean, Clean Water Act, getting Dirty, NEPA, oil and gas leases on sacred lands, protecting species or their habitat. Through the years of this administration, our opportunities to comment have been diminished on these actions and our hopes for a cleaner and healthier life for our children are diminished as well.

But we do get chances and you get a chance to learn more about ours next week. The Superfund program breaks up their work into parts, that they call operable units or OUs (not OSUs!) EPA is announcing more information on OU5, the Human Health Risk Assessment and LEAD Agency has worked with EPA to provide a chance, for you to listen to what that looks like and how much risk they think we humans have in the streams, river and lake. Listen and then the next day, these folks will be doing another session to help you and me write up our comments which are due July 17.

This is our only chance. Yours and mine to let these folks know you want it all fixed. Yes, a creek running through Commerce and Miami, about time it gets fixed and the land it floods each and every time it floods ought to get some attention, too. And those fish in the streams, when there are some, they should be fishable and edible, right? RIGHT.
Can we say something? Yes, will it matter? These agencies will never try to read your mind and may not do anything if you should say something. But take a hint. Sometimes people in power listen, they get the hint, the nudge to change or why did NASCAR decide the Confederate flag will be prohibited from all NASCAR events and properties? or why are some TV shows like COPS being taken off the air suddenly? Monuments coming down?

This could be our moment, this could be the WHEN THEY LISTEN TO PEOPLE HERE WHO WANT A CLEAN TAR CREEK AND A LAKE THAT IS GRAND AGAIN. Tune in, take time out of your life and do a WEBINAR, what could be more exciting? I will tell you what could be more exciting, it would be setting your kayak into a clean Tar Creek and not having it stained when you get out. We elders can do it so the little ones and those who follow them can dangle their feet and enjoy having the fish kiss their feet.

People power. You got some, let's put it to use.

Respectfully Submitted ~ Rebecca Jim

Our country, our state has suffered before, and is feeling the pains injustice brings; it visits, perhaps not you or your family, but if you open the windows, look out beyond, you might see it landing on a person you have not known, a person none the less.

Who has feelings and hopes, and dreams for the future like you desire. We want so little actually. Shelter, food and love are staples and simply to find a way to work, to earn a living, to serve, to be of use, at best.

It was through my experiences with Service Learning I was able to meet Cathy Berger Kaye who on more than one occasion read aloud each of the words in a poem by Marge Piercy entitled: To Be of Use, beginning with the words:  "The people I love the best jump into work head first..."
 
It is work that can give satisfaction and when no one is looking absolutely pure joy. The confidence of practice changed directly into faultless skill is longed for by those who wait to be admitted into professional programs by gatekeepers who regulate admission it seems arbitrarily. Our young can wait and do wait until they climb on through those gates or seek another path, to find that other work, a life's calling that will do as well.
 
Some transition and follow paths forged by generations. One of my former Cherokee Volunteers did this. He followed after his father who had followed his father into dentistry. Three generations who practiced those skills "head first" for could it be nearing a century? When I first came to Miami, the elder Dr. Robinson had, as I remember an office upstairs in the Robinson building, able to see the sites of the city and his son, Dr. Tom Robinson's practice allowed him a view of the flow of traffic and now the younger Dr. Chris Robinson looks down from the First National Bank building at that constant flow and is doing "what has to be done, again and again."
 
Serving the public, a person at a time. I remember when he was in high school he worked afternoons on casting molds that might be used as crowns. He learned so easily:
                                                                         "the thing worth doing well done
                                                               has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident."
                       It must have been contagious these generations of Robinsons who longed "for work that is real."
 
The generation becoming our replacements need our support and our trust in them. They have conviction and I hope the expectation we will welcome and believe in them. We must remember we will be replaced, but work can continue and be carried on, better if we do the work of helping to prepare them for it.
 
Our country is hurting, we have to believe in it, too. There are injustices. But they do not have to continue to occur. It can stop with each of us. As is said, this country is built on stolen land. Tribal peoples have faced injustices since as Will Rogers explained, "we met the boat." Had tribes been made to work for nothing, had we not fought injustice, and been able to survive European diseases, there may never have been a need to enslave stolen Africans to do our work for nothing. There are generations of injustices to right. And as they say, the sins of the fathers, sits with even many of the southeastern tribes who in the "race" to assimilate adopted the practice, too of having our own slaves.
 
These legacies of owning and being owned are not that old nor is the status as being an "other" as defined by race, color or religion. But "others" are easily hated and hatred can be hurtful, and can lead to physical hurt. Having power over an "other" feeds on itself.
 
Another former Miami High School graduate, Scott Jones learned much more about how hurtful settings where power becomes unleashed when as a minister in Omaha this weekend he walked with other ministers to do his work to minister to people in a rally, only to be injured by what could have been a rubber bullet as it hit the back of his head. He spoke about that moment, the confusion, the fear, the pain of not ministering to others, but becoming an identified "other" and injured by authorities. It can stop with us as we find ways to widen the opportunities for our basic needs to be met, safe shelter, education and work that will sustain us.
 
To be of use. 
 
Respectfully Submitted ~ Rebecca Jim