One of my all-time favorite books is “Siddhartha” by Herman Hesse, written in the early 20th century but so timeless that the message, find one’s self, still applies today. For those of you not familiar, Hesse was a German author (“Steppenwolf” is his other most famous novel) who had a preoccupation with the Far East, India especially. “Siddhartha” then is set in ancient India, and the main character in the vein of Buddhism gives up all wealth, much to the dismay of his father, and goes on the become a monk of sorts.
Of course he falters from this path, enters the world of business, starts up a brief relationship with a prostitute, has a son, and then returns to his purpose. For being only 100 pages long, roughly, “Siddhartha” like Orwell’s “Animal Farm” or Steinbeck’s “The Pearl” is one of those short stories that amazingly says a lot about life in general. That may be incredibly vague, but trust me, it’s true.
For all his experiences, the person who has the greatest influence on our main character is a ferryman. All he does is ferry people across a great river. Nothing more, nothing less. He’s been doing that for decades. I’m not going to ruin the book for those of you who haven’t read this great piece of literature, but what I will say is that a river ends up being the greatest teacher of all.
I couldn’t help but think about “Siddhartha” yesterday. Along with nearly 30 or 40 other people, I was on the Willamette River Friday, a hand-made paddle in my hands, and intermittent rain pelting my bare scalp. Most of the Tribal members on this journey were under the age of 18, and we were making a very brief trip from Independence, a town just west of Salem, to Wallace Marine Park on the waterfront of our state’s capitol. The trip was brief, for canoes anyway, taking us a little less than four hours, though we admittedly went slow as there was a reception scheduled for us at our destination, and we wanted to arrive on time, neither early nor late.
I haven’t had the luck to do a full-day of paddling on the annual Canoe Journey that takes place up in Washington State. But based on what I experienced today, my conclusion is that you have to be in pretty good physical shape to spend eight hours at sea constantly paddling. I can’t help but admire those who partake in the entire journey, and my admiration is even greater for the ancestors of ours who might have done this on a regular basis.
I’ve been told by different sources that Grand Ronde Indians weren’t really canoe people. Conversely, I’ve also been told they were. Both sides seem pretty sure of themselves, and who am I to say one way or the other? What I can say is that a lot of Tribal members get into this, young and old alike, and what was most enjoyable about yesterday and the subsequent ritual was that people were there because they wanted to be. There was no campaigning, and no door prizes. It felt a like a Tribal community, and despite the slight burn in my left shoulder and upper back, was more like a day off from the office drama. Physical stress, it seems, can be mentally quite liberating and relaxing.
I’m glad to see the scores of Tribal youth enthused by these canoe activities. If they elect to participate in the Canoe Journey instead of engaging in underage drinking or early drug-use, then I think we’ve found something valuable and worth continuing.
Above all, it was just fun to be on the river. I saw a young bald eagle, and an osprey, and birds with bright colors, and even a doe which darted from the shore as we cruised by. A patch of scotchbroom from a distance was mistaken for a white-tail. Riding the current, we probably had a fairly easy day of paddling. Anyone who used the word “boat” instead of “canoe” was threatened with being thrown overboard.
I couldn’t help but marvel at the Willamette River, which having grown up in Salem I saw everyday, but never appreciated until recently. The river really has a life and soul of its own. I wondered how many of my Kalapuyan ancestors might have wandered over the very spots we floated by today. How did they view this snake-shaped body of water that wriggled through their valley? Yes, in my previous post I wrote about how you can’t step into the same river twice. But Friday, it almost seemed like you could have, or at the very least you could have sensed the history of this river and many of our people.
I understand why Hesse put such an emphasis on the river in his book. Rivers get to see a lot in their long, long, long lives, carrying us, nurturing us, and cutting through the lands we fight over. I learned a lot from the river yesterday.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
The Same River, Twice
When I first ran for Council five years ago, back in 2002, writing the campaign letters and the candidate’s statements were what appealed to me the most. That might be because I’ve always enjoyed writing, and more importantly, being creative. In hindsight, trying to come up with something original and striking was the challenge I relished most every year. There was something about trying to get your point across and scoring style points in the process that I considered an especially lofty goal.
To this day, a few times a year, I am reminded by people of the risks taken by those. In an odd sort of triumph, I realized my letters and statements stood out. Conversely, my point wasn’t always clear, and even as early as yesterday I was advised not to write anything that would “go over people’s heads”. Quite honestly, nothing I ever wrote ever struck me as being too hard to understand. But of course, most people understand their creations. Why else would they have created them?
In 2004, a Tribal Elder attempted to contact me. In finally returning her call, she explained the progression of her opinion of me. She was impressed by my first letter, which was meant to be inspiring. My second letter, the famous or infamous “letter to the president” caused her distress, since she actually believed I had mailed it to George W. Bush. By the time my candidate’s statement in the “Smoke Signals” hit her, she had, in her owns words “thought you’d gone crazy”. For those of you who might remember my statement then was a fictional dialog between myself and two Tribal members that somehow made references to Iron Chef and “The Lord of the Rings”.
“Please,” she begged me. “Leave the humor to others”.
Of course in 2003, my candidate’s statement, during the election at least, drew plenty of positive comments. One elder told me she “absolutely loved it”. Another told me they considered it “brilliant”. Even one person, whom nobody would believe I revealed now, made a point to let me know he considered it “a great piece of writing”. I was proud of myself. Naturally, I wasn’t elected that year, just missing Jan Denton Reibach by 42 votes. It was in the post-election world that I was to learn that many people were perplexed or confused by what my statement had said. It was an allegory of a young student scouring the ruins of a former notable tribe, wherein I made some thinly disguised predictions. There was a vivid reference to the annual ritual that takes place in Central America with migrating turtles who fall prey to predators at they hatch and scamper from shore to water. Like a year later, I was told it appeared I had “lost my mind”, and one tribal member, trying to get a rise out of me in the lobby of Spirit Mountain Casino months later, said my statement to him signaled drug-use. To this day I am still reminded of my Guatemalan turtles.
The hard lesson I would learn is that while people may appreciate some risks and innovation in campaign literature, in doing so a candidate runs a real risk of losing his audience, potential voters. If there were ever a fine line to not cross, this is it. On the other hand, I still get a sense of satisfaction in being non-conformist, of being able, like Frank Sinatra, to do it “my way”.
I haven’t written my first campaign letter, yet. For as much as I love the internet and the multiple Tribal websites we have at our disposal today, the reality is print media and mail are still where you reach the greatest number of Tribal members.
The reason I am sitting here writing in my blog, instead of working on that all-important first letter, is because sometimes the well of inspiration runs low. This time, too, I am dealing with a new dynamic, incumbency. In my three previous elections I had never had to deal with that before. Like I wrote in the second letter of my 2003 campaign, you can never step in the same river twice, because the waters are different. It’s not the same river. In other words, even now I don’t know what I’ll write. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
To this day, a few times a year, I am reminded by people of the risks taken by those. In an odd sort of triumph, I realized my letters and statements stood out. Conversely, my point wasn’t always clear, and even as early as yesterday I was advised not to write anything that would “go over people’s heads”. Quite honestly, nothing I ever wrote ever struck me as being too hard to understand. But of course, most people understand their creations. Why else would they have created them?
In 2004, a Tribal Elder attempted to contact me. In finally returning her call, she explained the progression of her opinion of me. She was impressed by my first letter, which was meant to be inspiring. My second letter, the famous or infamous “letter to the president” caused her distress, since she actually believed I had mailed it to George W. Bush. By the time my candidate’s statement in the “Smoke Signals” hit her, she had, in her owns words “thought you’d gone crazy”. For those of you who might remember my statement then was a fictional dialog between myself and two Tribal members that somehow made references to Iron Chef and “The Lord of the Rings”.
“Please,” she begged me. “Leave the humor to others”.
Of course in 2003, my candidate’s statement, during the election at least, drew plenty of positive comments. One elder told me she “absolutely loved it”. Another told me they considered it “brilliant”. Even one person, whom nobody would believe I revealed now, made a point to let me know he considered it “a great piece of writing”. I was proud of myself. Naturally, I wasn’t elected that year, just missing Jan Denton Reibach by 42 votes. It was in the post-election world that I was to learn that many people were perplexed or confused by what my statement had said. It was an allegory of a young student scouring the ruins of a former notable tribe, wherein I made some thinly disguised predictions. There was a vivid reference to the annual ritual that takes place in Central America with migrating turtles who fall prey to predators at they hatch and scamper from shore to water. Like a year later, I was told it appeared I had “lost my mind”, and one tribal member, trying to get a rise out of me in the lobby of Spirit Mountain Casino months later, said my statement to him signaled drug-use. To this day I am still reminded of my Guatemalan turtles.
The hard lesson I would learn is that while people may appreciate some risks and innovation in campaign literature, in doing so a candidate runs a real risk of losing his audience, potential voters. If there were ever a fine line to not cross, this is it. On the other hand, I still get a sense of satisfaction in being non-conformist, of being able, like Frank Sinatra, to do it “my way”.
I haven’t written my first campaign letter, yet. For as much as I love the internet and the multiple Tribal websites we have at our disposal today, the reality is print media and mail are still where you reach the greatest number of Tribal members.
The reason I am sitting here writing in my blog, instead of working on that all-important first letter, is because sometimes the well of inspiration runs low. This time, too, I am dealing with a new dynamic, incumbency. In my three previous elections I had never had to deal with that before. Like I wrote in the second letter of my 2003 campaign, you can never step in the same river twice, because the waters are different. It’s not the same river. In other words, even now I don’t know what I’ll write. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Campaign Kickoff Day
Today is June 24, 2007. In a meeting that offered few surprises, 10 people made the ritual poll to the podium to be nominated for Tribal Council. They were, in no order, other than my memory, as follows:
Me (Chris Mercier)
Angie Blackwell
Wesley West
Dean Mercier
Andy Jenness
June Sell-Sherer
Bernadine Shriver
Steve Bobb
Loretta Knight
Michael Haller
Because the rumor mill tends to run rampant in Grand Ronde, I basically knew of all but two of these people as candidates. Even one of the surprises I figured was kind of a toss-up. Every year we can count on one or two new faces. So there you have it.
Because I used to log onto GrandRondeRezNews.com frequently, where many became familiar with one of the candidates in particular, I can’t help but brace for some serious mudslinging. But I’ve been wrong before. However, often the greatest indicator of future behavior is past behavior. Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen a smear campaign (see poor Ed Pearsall in 2003). I just hope Tribal members can see past that.
I attended a barbeque later this afternoon, one in no way affiliated with the Tribe or elections. A friend who lives in Grand Ronde approached me and asked if we had by any chance began our elections yet. I told him yes, to which he chuckled.
"I was wondering why people were putting up signs along Grand Ronde road," he told me. "They were out there hammering away."
He said it with that sense of amusement which outsiders often regard our Tribal elections. Until now I had never considered how odd the whole election season must seem to non-Tribal community members who don't follow the politics. Every summer signs just pop up out of nowhere, with names new to most of them. It must feel like walking into a movie theater half-way through the film. You know there's a lot going on here, but unless you go back to the beginning, you're never going to trully understand what is happening. There are plots, and subplots, and agendas. For those who really care, which is a lot of locals, it's practically a summer right of passage, reaching a peak in late July at ballots go out, and losing steam after the last light goes out on the pow wow grounds. Summer isn't summer in Grand Ronde without an intense Tribal election.
As odd as this may sound, I really look forward to this year's Tribal Council election, my own incumbency notwithstanding.
Me (Chris Mercier)
Angie Blackwell
Wesley West
Dean Mercier
Andy Jenness
June Sell-Sherer
Bernadine Shriver
Steve Bobb
Loretta Knight
Michael Haller
Because the rumor mill tends to run rampant in Grand Ronde, I basically knew of all but two of these people as candidates. Even one of the surprises I figured was kind of a toss-up. Every year we can count on one or two new faces. So there you have it.
Because I used to log onto GrandRondeRezNews.com frequently, where many became familiar with one of the candidates in particular, I can’t help but brace for some serious mudslinging. But I’ve been wrong before. However, often the greatest indicator of future behavior is past behavior. Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen a smear campaign (see poor Ed Pearsall in 2003). I just hope Tribal members can see past that.
I attended a barbeque later this afternoon, one in no way affiliated with the Tribe or elections. A friend who lives in Grand Ronde approached me and asked if we had by any chance began our elections yet. I told him yes, to which he chuckled.
"I was wondering why people were putting up signs along Grand Ronde road," he told me. "They were out there hammering away."
He said it with that sense of amusement which outsiders often regard our Tribal elections. Until now I had never considered how odd the whole election season must seem to non-Tribal community members who don't follow the politics. Every summer signs just pop up out of nowhere, with names new to most of them. It must feel like walking into a movie theater half-way through the film. You know there's a lot going on here, but unless you go back to the beginning, you're never going to trully understand what is happening. There are plots, and subplots, and agendas. For those who really care, which is a lot of locals, it's practically a summer right of passage, reaching a peak in late July at ballots go out, and losing steam after the last light goes out on the pow wow grounds. Summer isn't summer in Grand Ronde without an intense Tribal election.
As odd as this may sound, I really look forward to this year's Tribal Council election, my own incumbency notwithstanding.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Obsidian Cliffs
When I wrote my article for the "Smoke Signals" two years ago, there wasn't enough space to include many photos. That is the public's loss. As you can see this is a stunning area. Obsidian Cliffs is located east of Eugene, in Willamette National Forest.
The Start of Something Good
June 18, 2007
Her tears were so unexpected, and so surprising, that deep from within my chest and head, that telltale lump in the throat began, and my own eyes were slightly moistened. I had just made a decision that, while merely a small step in an enormous and soon-to-be harrowing process, temporarily cleansed her of years of pent-up frustration and impatience.
I hesitate to use her name. For those of you who don’t know her, she has driven up from near Roseburg, a nearly three-hour drive one way, for nearly two years at least once per month averaged out. Some months that number was like three or four. The reasons she drove up to today aren’t vastly different from before, they all involved trying to come up with language to solve some of the “unintended consequences” resulting from our Tribe’s last Constitutional amendment. In 1999. Needless to say, she has waited a long time.
Like many Tribal members, her family was deeply affected by the amendment. Hers is a classic split family. Though born of the same biological parents, some of her grandkids can enroll, some can’t. The language that Tribal Council passed on Monday, June 18 by resolution will solve a vast percentage of this problem. But like I wrote before, this is just the beginning. Most of the rest now is in the hands of Tribal voters.
She, along with a number of other individuals, spent a whole year of her life meeting twice per month as a member of the Tribe’s enrollment requirements ad hoc committee. We created the committee in the spring of 2005 following the public backlash from 35 letters of dis-enrollment sent to unsuspecting parents and/or guardians. A number of us wanted it before that, sadly, in fact Wesley West proposed the idea before our verbal whipping at the Eugene 2005 General Council Meeting, but better late than never I suppose.
The committee unveiled its recommendations on October 17, 2006 and I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that only now have we really acted on them. Better late than never…again.
My point in all this is that even getting to where we are today was the organizational and procedural equivalent of pulling teeth. Every attempt to move this monolith of a decision to a conclusion was a verbal struggle. That is why to even get this decision through is such an immediate relief, even though I am well-aware that this is just a minor but necessary step in the process of a Constitutional amendment.
That the resolution’s vote to even move this language forward to the Bureau of Indian Affairs ended up in a 5-4 split where I was given the rare opportunity to cast a tie-breaker is hardly surprising. This possible amendment never had the full support of the Tribal Council, and I remain convinced of this because in hindsight every meeting seemed like an attempt to introduce the filibuster into our work sessions. Council members would propose one thing and at the next meeting propose something different. At our Community Meeting in Tacoma, one Tribal member even got up and shared his observation that it seems certain Council members were saying the exact opposite of what they said the previous week in Portland. There was demand from members of our Council that we seek member input, and the constructive input we did get was rarely brought up after being submitted. From the first work session until the last, which by the way was Thursday, this whole process smacked of the partisan politics that have defined this issue more than others. At our last work session we had Council members voting “yes” on more than one committee sheet, even though a number of them conflicted!
The Constitutional election is still months away, and while I think the amendment can pass there is always the chance voters will think otherwise. But at least now there’s a chance, where since between 1999 and June 18, 2007 there was none. Maybe that is why this morning, as she walked up and hugged me, Angie Blackwell, and Jack Giffen, Jr. I felt a slight lump in my throat. Some of these split Tribal families could be healed, finally.
Better late…well, you know what I mean.
Her tears were so unexpected, and so surprising, that deep from within my chest and head, that telltale lump in the throat began, and my own eyes were slightly moistened. I had just made a decision that, while merely a small step in an enormous and soon-to-be harrowing process, temporarily cleansed her of years of pent-up frustration and impatience.
I hesitate to use her name. For those of you who don’t know her, she has driven up from near Roseburg, a nearly three-hour drive one way, for nearly two years at least once per month averaged out. Some months that number was like three or four. The reasons she drove up to today aren’t vastly different from before, they all involved trying to come up with language to solve some of the “unintended consequences” resulting from our Tribe’s last Constitutional amendment. In 1999. Needless to say, she has waited a long time.
Like many Tribal members, her family was deeply affected by the amendment. Hers is a classic split family. Though born of the same biological parents, some of her grandkids can enroll, some can’t. The language that Tribal Council passed on Monday, June 18 by resolution will solve a vast percentage of this problem. But like I wrote before, this is just the beginning. Most of the rest now is in the hands of Tribal voters.
She, along with a number of other individuals, spent a whole year of her life meeting twice per month as a member of the Tribe’s enrollment requirements ad hoc committee. We created the committee in the spring of 2005 following the public backlash from 35 letters of dis-enrollment sent to unsuspecting parents and/or guardians. A number of us wanted it before that, sadly, in fact Wesley West proposed the idea before our verbal whipping at the Eugene 2005 General Council Meeting, but better late than never I suppose.
The committee unveiled its recommendations on October 17, 2006 and I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that only now have we really acted on them. Better late than never…again.
My point in all this is that even getting to where we are today was the organizational and procedural equivalent of pulling teeth. Every attempt to move this monolith of a decision to a conclusion was a verbal struggle. That is why to even get this decision through is such an immediate relief, even though I am well-aware that this is just a minor but necessary step in the process of a Constitutional amendment.
That the resolution’s vote to even move this language forward to the Bureau of Indian Affairs ended up in a 5-4 split where I was given the rare opportunity to cast a tie-breaker is hardly surprising. This possible amendment never had the full support of the Tribal Council, and I remain convinced of this because in hindsight every meeting seemed like an attempt to introduce the filibuster into our work sessions. Council members would propose one thing and at the next meeting propose something different. At our Community Meeting in Tacoma, one Tribal member even got up and shared his observation that it seems certain Council members were saying the exact opposite of what they said the previous week in Portland. There was demand from members of our Council that we seek member input, and the constructive input we did get was rarely brought up after being submitted. From the first work session until the last, which by the way was Thursday, this whole process smacked of the partisan politics that have defined this issue more than others. At our last work session we had Council members voting “yes” on more than one committee sheet, even though a number of them conflicted!
The Constitutional election is still months away, and while I think the amendment can pass there is always the chance voters will think otherwise. But at least now there’s a chance, where since between 1999 and June 18, 2007 there was none. Maybe that is why this morning, as she walked up and hugged me, Angie Blackwell, and Jack Giffen, Jr. I felt a slight lump in my throat. Some of these split Tribal families could be healed, finally.
Better late…well, you know what I mean.
What have I learned over the past 3 years?
Well, technically it's only been two years and 10 months, but who's counting? My first term on council has been an eye-opener to say the least. It has mostly been what I expected, only more intense. When I am frustrated, I am REALLY frustrated. When I am disappointed, I am REALLY disappointed, and when I'm happy, I am REALLY happy. Unfortunately, I've experienced much more of the former and a lot less of the latter. In fact, I've thought long and hard about whether or not I should run for re-election. I've gone back and forth. I've weighed the pros and the cons. I've consulted the people in my life that I trust and respect. But when it comes right down to it, only I know what is right for me and my family.
What I've come to understand is this: I can't leave now, I feel like I am finally figuring out how to do this. My first year in office was an eye-opening experience. I spent a lot of time observing the way things work. Since I was in the minority , I could do little except for sit back and learn. My mom was on council for 10 years so I had an idea what I was in for, but simple office procedures were elusive at best. I can remember asking "How does a person go about getting something on the agenda?" and "How can I get a travel advance or reimbursement?" There is no step-by-step manual to tell you how to do these things, you just have to learn as you go. At that time, no one was offering up any information that would make my job any easier.
Back then, most decisions were made on an ad-hoc basis and were usually reactionary. This made it very difficult to address issues that weren't the crisis-of-the-day, that is, until the issue rose to that level. Not only that, but it was hard to bring things to the table that weren't urgent. There was little attention paid to long-term planning or the long-term impact of decisions.
That's not all I learned. Probably the greatest lesson I learned is what not to do. If I had it to do all over again I would certainly do some things differently. Patience has never been my strong suit, but if I could go back, I would try to move a little slower. People are resistant to change and I am trying to respect that. If I could go back, I would probably have ran a much different campaign. I think my first term would have been easier if I could have kept a low profile, but after our landslide victory that was out of the question.
I can't go back, but I can apply the lessons I've learned to help me be a better leader the second time around. I'm looking forward to the opportunity to do just that.
What I've come to understand is this: I can't leave now, I feel like I am finally figuring out how to do this. My first year in office was an eye-opening experience. I spent a lot of time observing the way things work. Since I was in the minority , I could do little except for sit back and learn. My mom was on council for 10 years so I had an idea what I was in for, but simple office procedures were elusive at best. I can remember asking "How does a person go about getting something on the agenda?" and "How can I get a travel advance or reimbursement?" There is no step-by-step manual to tell you how to do these things, you just have to learn as you go. At that time, no one was offering up any information that would make my job any easier.
Back then, most decisions were made on an ad-hoc basis and were usually reactionary. This made it very difficult to address issues that weren't the crisis-of-the-day, that is, until the issue rose to that level. Not only that, but it was hard to bring things to the table that weren't urgent. There was little attention paid to long-term planning or the long-term impact of decisions.
That's not all I learned. Probably the greatest lesson I learned is what not to do. If I had it to do all over again I would certainly do some things differently. Patience has never been my strong suit, but if I could go back, I would try to move a little slower. People are resistant to change and I am trying to respect that. If I could go back, I would probably have ran a much different campaign. I think my first term would have been easier if I could have kept a low profile, but after our landslide victory that was out of the question.
I can't go back, but I can apply the lessons I've learned to help me be a better leader the second time around. I'm looking forward to the opportunity to do just that.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
In My Spare Time, Part II
Books
“Caravans” (1963)
This is the fourth book I’ve read by James Michener. That is unusual because I’ll admit to being skeptical of many super-selling authors because, like movies, I feel that some things which target a mass audience often water down plots and characters and gun for the happy ending. “Caravans” really doesn’t do that. In fact, I think it’s kind of a bold book for 1963. You can really detect traces of the counter-culture movement in America in one of the main characters. Also, you can sense what a complex place that Afghanistan was even 40 years ago. The plot basically involves a spirited and idealistic middle-class young woman from Pennsylvania who tires of the then rat-race and in an effort to rile her parents marries an up-and-coming Afghan man and moves to the mountainous nation, only to disappear completely. Charged with finding her is an equally young American embassy worker out to prove himself. The period in which this story is set is 1946, post-World War II, and Afghanistan is still a misunderstood, Islamic, and most importantly, tribal underdeveloped country. The main character, Mark Miller, scours the countryside on loose clues trying to find Ellen Jaspar, in the process experiencing everything Afghan, from savage, outdated laws, to a very harsh mountain and desert climate. He also hooks up with a caravan of nomads, hence the name, and encounters a number of interesting people, some of them natives trying to usher their nation into the 20th century. What can I say? This is a very interesting book, and Al Qaeda aside, makes you wonder what life must be like “over there”.
“A Walk Across America” (1978)
I love to travel. And when I can’t travel much, for pleasure, kind of like in my present job, I read travel books. “A Walk Across America” isn’t very timeless, which is part of it’s charm. The story is non-fiction, and involves a hippie-esque young man named Peter Jenkins, the author by the way, who after some emotional trauma (messy divorce) and soul-searching, packs up his stuff, buys a sturdy backpack, whistles for his dog and decides to walk across America. He doesn’t make all the way, New Orleans, but evidently there was a sequel to this book I haven’t read. I can’t compare this to other travel classics, like Paul Theroux’s books, or to William Least Heast Moon’s “Blue Highways”, because both those men are much better writers. But Jenkin’s book is fascinating for its time, because in the early 1970’s, desegregation hadn’t completely caught on, which is important since his journey takes him through the South. And because as a man who looked like a “hippie”, he is often the target of, for lack of a better word, harsh judgment. Nonetheless, Jenkins encounters all sorts of characters, and kind of makes me wish I’d been born maybe 20 years earlier, in order to experience America during a time of major social change.
Films:
“The Last King of Scotland” (2006)
Oscar-winners usually attract me, and I can admit Forrest Whitaker does a fine job as Idi Amin, the infamous African dictator. Really spooky is that a lot of what happens in this movie wasn’t far from the truth. The plot is basically a glimpse of Amin’s regime during the 1970’s in Uganda, seen through the eyes of an advisor, a Scottish physician. Amin had a fascination and admiration for Scotland and its citizens…and kilts. I guess this film addresses a couple of ugly truths, one is that many African countries have a very violent, hideous and altogether depressing history that reminds you no matter how much one detests or disagrees with our present administration, politics in our country aren’t as bad as they are in other parts of the world. At least we don’t have politically motivated dismemberments or mutilations. Second, charisma has a way of making people overlook what are very evil flaws in their leaders. Third, power corrupts. But I’m sure most people already know that.
“Blood Diamond” (2006)
I’ve always tended to dismiss Leonardo DiCaprio in roles that require him to bust out an accent and act like a grown man. Usually, he proves me wrong. He certainly does in this one. DiCaprio plays a borderline corrupt South African diamond smuggler, who falls in with a rebel fishermen that is wanted by numerous people. Why? Because this fisherman, played by Djimon Honson, knows the whereabouts of a rather large diamond he found while enslaved following a military coup in his native Ghana. DiCaprio wants to keep him alive to find the diamond, Jennifer Connelly wants to write about it all for American news interests, and Honson wants to find his family from whom he was separated following the coup. Like the movie above, this is a socially-conscious film, emphasizing what a large number of Africans deal with in order to supply the world’s demand for diamonds, including coups, enslavement, and massacres. Also, what is even more disturbing is the role major companies play, including supporting bloody coups, all to keep the diamond supply stable and relatively cheap. This was a much better film than I thought it would be.
“Caravans” (1963)
This is the fourth book I’ve read by James Michener. That is unusual because I’ll admit to being skeptical of many super-selling authors because, like movies, I feel that some things which target a mass audience often water down plots and characters and gun for the happy ending. “Caravans” really doesn’t do that. In fact, I think it’s kind of a bold book for 1963. You can really detect traces of the counter-culture movement in America in one of the main characters. Also, you can sense what a complex place that Afghanistan was even 40 years ago. The plot basically involves a spirited and idealistic middle-class young woman from Pennsylvania who tires of the then rat-race and in an effort to rile her parents marries an up-and-coming Afghan man and moves to the mountainous nation, only to disappear completely. Charged with finding her is an equally young American embassy worker out to prove himself. The period in which this story is set is 1946, post-World War II, and Afghanistan is still a misunderstood, Islamic, and most importantly, tribal underdeveloped country. The main character, Mark Miller, scours the countryside on loose clues trying to find Ellen Jaspar, in the process experiencing everything Afghan, from savage, outdated laws, to a very harsh mountain and desert climate. He also hooks up with a caravan of nomads, hence the name, and encounters a number of interesting people, some of them natives trying to usher their nation into the 20th century. What can I say? This is a very interesting book, and Al Qaeda aside, makes you wonder what life must be like “over there”.
“A Walk Across America” (1978)
I love to travel. And when I can’t travel much, for pleasure, kind of like in my present job, I read travel books. “A Walk Across America” isn’t very timeless, which is part of it’s charm. The story is non-fiction, and involves a hippie-esque young man named Peter Jenkins, the author by the way, who after some emotional trauma (messy divorce) and soul-searching, packs up his stuff, buys a sturdy backpack, whistles for his dog and decides to walk across America. He doesn’t make all the way, New Orleans, but evidently there was a sequel to this book I haven’t read. I can’t compare this to other travel classics, like Paul Theroux’s books, or to William Least Heast Moon’s “Blue Highways”, because both those men are much better writers. But Jenkin’s book is fascinating for its time, because in the early 1970’s, desegregation hadn’t completely caught on, which is important since his journey takes him through the South. And because as a man who looked like a “hippie”, he is often the target of, for lack of a better word, harsh judgment. Nonetheless, Jenkins encounters all sorts of characters, and kind of makes me wish I’d been born maybe 20 years earlier, in order to experience America during a time of major social change.
Films:
“The Last King of Scotland” (2006)
Oscar-winners usually attract me, and I can admit Forrest Whitaker does a fine job as Idi Amin, the infamous African dictator. Really spooky is that a lot of what happens in this movie wasn’t far from the truth. The plot is basically a glimpse of Amin’s regime during the 1970’s in Uganda, seen through the eyes of an advisor, a Scottish physician. Amin had a fascination and admiration for Scotland and its citizens…and kilts. I guess this film addresses a couple of ugly truths, one is that many African countries have a very violent, hideous and altogether depressing history that reminds you no matter how much one detests or disagrees with our present administration, politics in our country aren’t as bad as they are in other parts of the world. At least we don’t have politically motivated dismemberments or mutilations. Second, charisma has a way of making people overlook what are very evil flaws in their leaders. Third, power corrupts. But I’m sure most people already know that.
“Blood Diamond” (2006)
I’ve always tended to dismiss Leonardo DiCaprio in roles that require him to bust out an accent and act like a grown man. Usually, he proves me wrong. He certainly does in this one. DiCaprio plays a borderline corrupt South African diamond smuggler, who falls in with a rebel fishermen that is wanted by numerous people. Why? Because this fisherman, played by Djimon Honson, knows the whereabouts of a rather large diamond he found while enslaved following a military coup in his native Ghana. DiCaprio wants to keep him alive to find the diamond, Jennifer Connelly wants to write about it all for American news interests, and Honson wants to find his family from whom he was separated following the coup. Like the movie above, this is a socially-conscious film, emphasizing what a large number of Africans deal with in order to supply the world’s demand for diamonds, including coups, enslavement, and massacres. Also, what is even more disturbing is the role major companies play, including supporting bloody coups, all to keep the diamond supply stable and relatively cheap. This was a much better film than I thought it would be.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
D.C. Days (Daze?)
According to Jack Giffen, Jr., the trip he, Reyn Leno, Rob Greene and I will be making to our nation’s capitol from June 4 until June 7 is his 22nd journey to Washington, D.C. For me, it will be my third. The first trip I made was back in February of this year, during the Annual Affiliated Tribes of Northwest Indians Conference in Portland, where most of our Council would be. I left on a Monday.
My first trip, from a business standpoint, was the definition of uneventful. I was there to offer Grand Ronde’s historical perspective of Cowlitz and their claim to La Center in Washington State for, what else, building a casino. We, being Rob Greene, one of our lobbyists, Jack Giffen, Jr., a professor knowledgable of Indians in western Washington, and a consultant whose name eludes me right now, met on a blustery Tuesday to review our presentation that we would be making to the Department of the Interior. No more than a few hours before our meeting, snow began to fall everywhere, and most government offices from what I could tell shut down in preparation of icy roads and other hazardous conditions. Our meeting was to be rescheduled within three weeks, meaning another trip.
The weather would have other effects, as the following day while we waited in line at Dulles Airport, complete havoc broke out, at least with our airline, and the excessive lines caused our Tribal attorney and I to miss our flights. We would not be able to rebook for two days. One the drive back to our respective lodgings, he a hotel and me my brother’s new condominium, a sheet of ice flew off of the vehicle proceeding in front of our taxi. The ice struck our windshield, not only shattering it, but forcing the taxi driver to pull over for about a 45 minutes to wait for not only a substitute cab, but a police officer to draw up a report.
On the flip side, the extra day in limbo, though D.C. was a frosty wasteland, gave me an opportunity to visit the National Museum of the American Indian. The trip then wasn’t a total loss, I guess.
During the return trip two weeks later I would be accompanied by four other Council members, as our meeting coincided with the annual conference of the National Congress of American Indians. Of course, my arrival in D.C. was delayed by a day as entering the Portland airport I would learn that snow locally and in Chicago would make me unable to catch a flight for another two days. While I successfully made it to D.C. this time, and our meeting with Interior did happen, two key officials of that department failed to show for our conference. On the trip back, snow storms would keep me in D.C. another day.
If you’re wondering why I am writing all this, well, even I am really making one of those roundaboutpoints. I suppose it might be the out-of-town Tribal members who asked why I would not be in the office this week. My answer one would probably guess is never simple. You see, there is a lot to our job as Council members that I think most people are unaware of, and I don’t mean some of the more common things like emails, phone calls, and Council meetings. Travel and meetings with local, regional, and national officials and representatives of different agencies are some of them.
If you’ve read my biography on the Tribe’s website, then anybody would know that I like to travel. But travel for pleasure and travel for business are not the same. In fact, they are completely different. One type is almost always fun, the other can be fun at times but usually isn’t. The great exception of course is conferences.
Over the next two days, the four of us will have 17 different meetings with various officials and/or their representatives. We will meet early the morning to review all the bullet points and decide who says what and when, and often, how. There will be 30 minutes between each meeting in which we regroup and quickly repeat the process all over again. All of us were given a packet that will we all read on the plane flight over and will continue to act as a cheat sheet. The range of entities with whom we meet will be senators, governors, BIA and Interior agents, and others. We will be discussing gaming, off-reservation gaming, different forms of legislation affecting our Tribe, who knows what else?
In many ways, this is some of the most important yet thankless work we can do as Council members. Despite the numerous reports on infinite topics out there, many officials here in D.C., like Council members, rarely have the time to thoroughly read everything which ends on our desks. In other words, much of what we present in D.C. might have and in some cases should have already been known by the people we meet with, but just the nature of bureaucracy sometimes prevents that from happening. The face-to-face meetings are the opportunity to stress those bullet points and make that decisive impression.
I can’t say that there is a definite scientific method of knowing whether our visits and presentations are the decisive factors we would like them to be. What we do know is that it’s completely necessary, like re-oiling the parts of an eternal machine, one that everybody who wants something to happen must do. It rarely gets brought up in Wednesday night or General Council meetings, and yet we continue to do it. Why? Because we have to, and because I get the feeling that for some official back east to hear from and speak with a Tribal leader and not an attorney or lobbyist makes the biggest difference of all.
My first trip, from a business standpoint, was the definition of uneventful. I was there to offer Grand Ronde’s historical perspective of Cowlitz and their claim to La Center in Washington State for, what else, building a casino. We, being Rob Greene, one of our lobbyists, Jack Giffen, Jr., a professor knowledgable of Indians in western Washington, and a consultant whose name eludes me right now, met on a blustery Tuesday to review our presentation that we would be making to the Department of the Interior. No more than a few hours before our meeting, snow began to fall everywhere, and most government offices from what I could tell shut down in preparation of icy roads and other hazardous conditions. Our meeting was to be rescheduled within three weeks, meaning another trip.
The weather would have other effects, as the following day while we waited in line at Dulles Airport, complete havoc broke out, at least with our airline, and the excessive lines caused our Tribal attorney and I to miss our flights. We would not be able to rebook for two days. One the drive back to our respective lodgings, he a hotel and me my brother’s new condominium, a sheet of ice flew off of the vehicle proceeding in front of our taxi. The ice struck our windshield, not only shattering it, but forcing the taxi driver to pull over for about a 45 minutes to wait for not only a substitute cab, but a police officer to draw up a report.
On the flip side, the extra day in limbo, though D.C. was a frosty wasteland, gave me an opportunity to visit the National Museum of the American Indian. The trip then wasn’t a total loss, I guess.
During the return trip two weeks later I would be accompanied by four other Council members, as our meeting coincided with the annual conference of the National Congress of American Indians. Of course, my arrival in D.C. was delayed by a day as entering the Portland airport I would learn that snow locally and in Chicago would make me unable to catch a flight for another two days. While I successfully made it to D.C. this time, and our meeting with Interior did happen, two key officials of that department failed to show for our conference. On the trip back, snow storms would keep me in D.C. another day.
If you’re wondering why I am writing all this, well, even I am really making one of those roundaboutpoints. I suppose it might be the out-of-town Tribal members who asked why I would not be in the office this week. My answer one would probably guess is never simple. You see, there is a lot to our job as Council members that I think most people are unaware of, and I don’t mean some of the more common things like emails, phone calls, and Council meetings. Travel and meetings with local, regional, and national officials and representatives of different agencies are some of them.
If you’ve read my biography on the Tribe’s website, then anybody would know that I like to travel. But travel for pleasure and travel for business are not the same. In fact, they are completely different. One type is almost always fun, the other can be fun at times but usually isn’t. The great exception of course is conferences.
Over the next two days, the four of us will have 17 different meetings with various officials and/or their representatives. We will meet early the morning to review all the bullet points and decide who says what and when, and often, how. There will be 30 minutes between each meeting in which we regroup and quickly repeat the process all over again. All of us were given a packet that will we all read on the plane flight over and will continue to act as a cheat sheet. The range of entities with whom we meet will be senators, governors, BIA and Interior agents, and others. We will be discussing gaming, off-reservation gaming, different forms of legislation affecting our Tribe, who knows what else?
In many ways, this is some of the most important yet thankless work we can do as Council members. Despite the numerous reports on infinite topics out there, many officials here in D.C., like Council members, rarely have the time to thoroughly read everything which ends on our desks. In other words, much of what we present in D.C. might have and in some cases should have already been known by the people we meet with, but just the nature of bureaucracy sometimes prevents that from happening. The face-to-face meetings are the opportunity to stress those bullet points and make that decisive impression.
I can’t say that there is a definite scientific method of knowing whether our visits and presentations are the decisive factors we would like them to be. What we do know is that it’s completely necessary, like re-oiling the parts of an eternal machine, one that everybody who wants something to happen must do. It rarely gets brought up in Wednesday night or General Council meetings, and yet we continue to do it. Why? Because we have to, and because I get the feeling that for some official back east to hear from and speak with a Tribal leader and not an attorney or lobbyist makes the biggest difference of all.
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