Last Year’s Mantra

 

In 2019, my mantra was to have a heart full of gratitude. I think that will be a part of me for the rest of my life.

 My furnace apparently stopped functioning during the night and when I woke up this morning the interior temperature was 56º.

I padded downstairs in my Uggs and puffy coat , made coffee, and fed the dogs, and got back into bed until a decent time to call the repairman. All good now, less $250.  My heart is full of gratitude. I have a house, coffee, dogs, puffy coat, Uggs, and $250.

I am now going to regenerate and warm up in the wonder-working body soak I mentioned a couple of days ago. And peruse a flyer that came in the mail today: Adriatic and Aegean Odyssey on a Small Ship.

Caveat Emptor

I picked up this bath “body soak” yesterday at Freddy’s because it was on sale. I really didn’t read the label thoroughly until last night. Amazing that you can just print stuff like this on packaging. “Return energy, strength, and joy.” Seriously? I can do joy myself. If this product turns out to provide strength and energy, I’ll get back to you.

Unsheltered

Imagine that there is no place where you can legally be. No place where you can sit down or be warm and dry. 
I do not judge our unsheltered neighbors, although the temptation to do so is great. I have no idea what has happened that they cannot just go home as I do after I drive past them in my warm, dry, reliable Subaru with my two labradoodles, the quintessential Oregon old woman. I do know if I had made just one mis-step that could be me. 

Not all Languages are Created Equal

Yesterday in the car, I listened to a woman who had gotten a PhD in the Klamath language. Clearly, she is now the leading — possibly the only — expert in this Native American language. Apparently, a large grant was granted to study, teach, and preserve hundreds of these obscure and almost obsolete languages. I can’t think why.

When I was in college, I became interested in linguistics, particularly in the relationship between languages. My native tribe, Choctaw, has been placed in the Muscogean language group. Our closest similar language was spoken by our very close cousins the Chickasaws. Most of the hundreds of indigenous languages are unique and bear no similarities or connections to each other

I enjoyed learning a few Choctaw words from a crude dictionary I found. I never remember that my closest Choctaw ancestor, my maternal grandfather, knew or spoke a single word. Today, I remember that “ishtaboli” is the transliteration of “stick ball.” Everyone just says stick ball.

It was fun and pretty much useless.

I suppose it is interesting to preserve obscure, unused languages, for anthropological records. Beyond that, if is probably fun to teach today’s Indian kindergartners to say things in their ancestors’ language. Kids learn languages so fast.

Beyond that, what is the point?

Choctaw was never a written language until the missionaries came, forbade native spirituality, and transliterated the bible and country southern hymns into Choctaw. No literature was ever written by the ancient Chostaws. Most of us can recite “The Lord’s Prayer” in Choctaw, and tribal “princesses” do an odd dance to it while signing in what I guess is American Sign Language. Of course, neither Christianity or American Sign Language has any connection to authentic tribal practice.

Why is a tremendous amount of money being spent on insisting that little children learn languages which have extremely limited use? It just sounds so very politically correct. Like somehow this can make up in some way for Manifest Destiny.

When I taught at an Indian boarding high school in the late ’90’s, I had students from over sixty tribes. They all spoke English just like teenagers all over the United States. Alaskans from very isolated villages knew a bit of their varied languages. The only group I ever heard speaking their native language were the Navajos, and they only did it when they didn’t want me to know what they were talking about.

My issue is not that I don’t think it’s significant to preserve ethnic remnants of our indigenous peoples, rather that we need to question how we spend money in their behalf. I’m just not sure why, when a great percentage of American Indians live below the poverty level — and don’t talk to me about how casinos have made them rich — we are spending money on teaching teachers how to teach kindergartners how to say a few things in the dead language of their forebears.