Racist Or Just Insensitive Juvenile Prank? (Those Aren't Mutually Exclusive)

 Coming back from Denali last week, we stopped at Kashwitna Lake.  Not a terribly scenic spot that day, but good for a quick break from driving.    

The bulletin board on the other hand, offered a little MatSu humor.  Even though the announcements have State of Alaska Fish and Game seals, I somehow think they aren't from the State.  And I decided not to check with the State.

This is in the most conservative borough in Alaska and I'm not sure whether there's some hidden right wing propaganda or whether this is just non-political, teen humor.  I don't think they info sheets had  been up long.  They showed no signs of rain and the staples hadn't started to bleed rust.  

Given that [the Alaska Guide says] Kashwitna comes from a Tainana Indian name, this is probably more than a little disrespectful.  

I found this about the Fukawi Indian tribe on Reddit:

Go to Jokes

r/Jokes•10 yr. ago

noccusJohnstein

"The story of the Fukawi Indian Tribe 

Our tribe has rich and long-standing history. Long time ago, our tribe wander the wilderness. For many years, we wander looking for land to call our own. Our chief led our people through mountains, valleys, seashores and plains.

People were born wandering. People died wandering. After an entire generation of wanderers were born and died, our chief, then very old, led us to top of great mountain. He stood atop mountain summit and faced his people. He looked around. He looked far and wide. He then shouted to the gods,

"We're the Fukawi! We're the Fukawi! WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE?!"

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•10 yr. ago

This was originally told by the chief in the 60s show "FTroop". But it was "Hekawee' then.

Is this really worth a post?  I guess I consider it a form a graffiti and worth noting.  Though the more I think about this, I'm getting heavy racist vibes. Should I even leave it up?  Maybe just to alert folks.  

The Street - A 1946 Primer On Structural Racism

 My bookclub is reading The Street by Ann Petry this month.  

It was first published in 1946.  Remember that date.  It says on the cover of the 1976 edition that it has sold over a million copies.  

It's a story of an attractive young Black woman living in Harlem at the end of WW II, struggling to find a path to a better life.  It shifts here and there to the stories of other characters she deals with, but it's basically Lutie Johnso's story.

What I find of most interest is that 

• this book got published in 1946
• that many copies were sold
• that the message seems to have little impact on White understanding

I'm guessing about the last point.  Perhaps it caused a number of White folks to adjust their assessment of Black folk in the United States an to better understand the enormous obstacles they faced.  And maybe I'm just frustrated that it has taken so long to change White thinking,  After all, it was 1953 when James Baldwin's first book - Go Tell It On The Mountain - was published.  But Richard Wright's Native Son was published in 1940.  

A 1992 NYTimes article about the republication of The Street gives us more background about the author and how the book got published and that it was a big hit right away.  

Scattered throughout the book, Lutie Johnson reflects on al the obstacles Black women (and men) faced.  How impossible it was to get ahead, to escape poverty.  How the housing was terrible, paying the rent difficult.  Black men had trouble getting jobs, so the women worked and quickly became single mothers whose kids had no safe, healthy places to go after school until their mom's got home from work.  

Here are a couple of pages to give an example of Lutie's reflections.  This first one is when her husband was laid off and in desperation, Lutie takes a job in Connecticut as a maid.  This leaves her husband home to raise their young son.  

The facing page tells us that her boss' mother has come to visit over Christmas.  The sentence begins on the previous page:  "A tall think woman with ... cold gray eyes..."

And this second passage is much later.  While Lutie was out of Harlem most of the month working for White people in a large house, her husband took up with another woman.  Lutie has quit her job and is back in Harlem in a depressing, small apartment with her son.  

On the previous page she had, walking home,  encountered a woman whose head was bleeding.  

"Yes, she thought, she and Bub [her eight year old son] had to get out of ... 116th Street.  

In the 1992 New York Times article we learn that Ann Petry grew up comfortably in a small town in Connecticut.  

"Mrs. Petry's grandfather was a chemist and her father a pharmacist who owned his own drugstore in town. Her mother was a barber, then a chiropodist and finally started her own linen business. Mrs. Petry graduated from the College of Pharmacy of the University of Connecticut and worked for a time in the family shop. A Comfortable Childhood

Theirs was one of the few black families in this old Connecticut town then, and still is today, but the incidents of prejudice, said Mrs. Petry, have been few. Hers was a childhood of privilege, especially for a black child of those days. Two working parents, family all about, enough money for hair ribbons, new shoes, warm meals and college. Mrs. Petry came to known firsthand the traumas of the street only after she married in 1938 and moved to Harlem."

I'm still puzzled about the impact this book had.  Over a million copies had been sold by the time the 1992 paperback version was published.  Who were those people?  How did they react?  How many did anything to make the lives of Black folks easier?  How many were White?  Black?  

This book wasn't talking about the suffering of Black people in the South.  It was about people in New York City.

The original review of the book, says it was published in February 1946.  A bit of context - Donald Trump was born June 14, 1946.  I'm guessing neither of his parents read this book.  

One other thought:  As I read this book and imagined who might have read the book, I got this image of all the people who had ever read it gathered together for a week to talk about the book and what actions they could take to change things.  To a degree, social media moves us in that direction.  Not all the readers of a book, but a significant number can share the experience.  

Cooper Bates - Takes Me Back To The Many Amazing Artistic Finds Out North Brought to Anchorage

 Here's Cooper after the performance.  

One man for a bit over an hour.  Telling the story of a black man who grew up on a farm in Kansas, where all the other families were white.  

After high school, he heads for Dallas to enroll in acting school.  

Every now and then there's a black out for - not really sure, maybe five or ten seconds - and then the story continues.  

On the one hand, this is the kind of story we rarely used to get to hear - a first hand account of growing up Black.  On the other hand, it's the kind of story people are working hard to suppress in various states.  While Anchorage pushed back against the Mom's For Liberty School Board candidates at Tuesday's election, comfortably reelecting the incumbents, MatSu has set up its own book review committee.  

Out North, for years, brought up relatively obscure, but brilliant acts, that challenged my brain to think bigger and different, many if not most with an LGBTQ (there was no + on the list back then) flavor.  This performance tonight reminded me of those stimulating evenings.  And with Cyrano's having moved into what used to be the Out North theater, my brain is still confused.  It's like two good friends having merged into one person.  

But let's get some basic information up for those who might want to see Cooper perform - and everyone reading this should.  

The performance is called Black Out.  It plays this weekend and next at Cyrano's Playhouse - the old Out North Theater, the Old Airport Heights library building, 3600 Debarr, kitty corner, almost, from Costco.  

I hope people share this post, or at least this event, widely.  This is great story telling.  Tonight's audience was pitifullysmall - about 10 people who hardly reflected the diversity of Anchorage.  At one point in the story telling, the aspiring actor has concerns about only playing Black characters, mostly white stereotypes of Black criminality.  But he even has doubts about being cast as Jackie Robinson because he's Black.  His acting mentor tells him about how the kids who watch him act will be inspired by watching him in that role.  None of those kids were in the audience to be inspired tonight.  [The program says for 14+.  The ticketing website says 16+.  Rape and suicide are covered in the play, but I think parents can judge whether their 15 year olds can deal with that.  But they weren't there.]  

Below is the stage just before the performance began.  

The playwright (also Cooper Bates) writes in the program

"For two decades, I've poured my hart and should into these productions.  They're not just performances;  they're a testament to my journey of self-discovery and purpose.  From witnessing racial bullying on the playground in first grade to grappling with my authenticity in my twenties, this play encapsulates the evolution of my existence."

I guess that can sound a bit self-centered, but the performance isn't.  He began talking to a few audience members and shaking hands with them.  He played not only his own part, but also some of the key people who influenced him along the way.  Throughout, he was relating a story directly to the audience.  

I had told my wife to poke me if I fell asleep during the performance.  That wasn't an issue.  I was listening and watching intently the whole way.  

My one frustration with the production was my inability as an audience member to let the actor know how much he had pulled me in.  I wanted to applaud at the blackouts, like you might do after a a musician does a particularly exciting riff, but by the time I was ready to applaud, the lights were back on and he had picked up the (one-way) conversation.  Could he read our faces? (We were both wearing masks which made it harder for him.)  Our body language?  We were close, but I'm not sure how much light was on us.  And no one else seemed ready to clap.  Maybe it would interrupt his rhythm.  And so, by the third or fourth black out, the audience silence was the norm.  And the blackout at the end, well the audience didn't know for sure if it was the end or not and didn't start applauding until the lights came back on and Cooper bowed.  

Or maybe the rest of the audience wasn't as into it was we were.  I thought the applause at the end was meagre for such a powerful performance. Maybe a bigger audience would have made some noise.  

I also want to mention that he projected his voice really well.  I wear hearing aids and when we watch Netflix, say, I usually have the subtitles on so I can 'hear' everything.  (But I hate reading the lines before the actors say them.)  But I heard every single syllable tonight.  Cooper didn't have a mic, and didn't speak particularly loud, he just projected well.  

You can get tickets at this link.  I'm hoping to see it again.  With the bigger audience it deserves.  

Seattle Outing - Food And Art

Our grand parenting duties shrink back as our granddaughter gets older and has more autonomy and more activities to fill up her time.  That's not a bad thing.  We still get to spend lots of time with our daughter and granddaughter, but I also have plenty of time to read, think, write, and delete emails  that never seem to slow down.  Even as I unsubscribe to emailers I never subscribed to, new ones seem to find me.  

But we had an anniversary yesterday and we decided to take the ferry and wander around downtown Seattle.  

It's been pretty rainy, but the sun made itself known as we approached the ferry terminal.  

We tried the post office on 1st Street, but it was closed for lunch.  

So we made our way to Pike Place Market for some clam chowder.  The seats weren't that comfy, but the chowder was hot and the guy with the red sleeves kept up a constant entertaining chatter.  

We wandered a bit through the market.  Then across the street to a kitchen ware shop where we found a gift for our granddaughter and her dad.  We stopped in at H-Market for a look around.  Then made it to another post office where I was able to send my package.  I had the book in an envelope I'd received a different book in, but the clerk immediately told me I should buy a new envelope which would be cheaper than buying a roll of tape for the envelope.  While we waited, another customer asked another clerk if he could tape the address label on and was told to buy a roll of tape ($3.99).  This is new.  Post office personnel used to be helpful.  I guess Trump's postmaster who's apparently still in charge, thinks saving pennies is better than making customers feel like coming back.  

Then to the Seattle Art Museum.  I'm always taken aback by how much it costs to enter major museums these days.  I know it costs money to run things, but art is a major expression of a culture and museums are a serious part of public education.  If we can pay to be the most armed country in the world, we ought to pay even a percent of that for public art museums.  But I quickly got over that as we interacted with what was on the walls, the floors, and even the ceiling in places.  

There's clearly a change in how museums display items.  There's a lot of obviously intentional diversity.  There's mixing up of pieces of different eras and cultures to find (or at least claim to find) commonalities.  

And I was particularly struck by the universality of human art - both geographically and in terms of time.  We tend to think that we are smarter and more skilled than people who lived hundreds or thousands of years ago.  Certainly a fair chunk of today's US population (like those who believe their cult leader is going to improve their lives) aren't nearly as wise as the brightest people in past generations.  

On the left is Charles d'Amboise.  The painting was done about 1505 (just over 500 years ago) by Bernardine de'Conti who lived in Milan about 1470 -1522.  

The description says:

"The French nobleman Charles d'Amboise became the governor of the Duchy of Milan after it was conquered by France.  The collar of scallop shells and knots denotes the Order of SaintMichael, granted to him about 1505, perhaps the occasion for commissioning this portrait. 

D'Amboise was a friend and patron of Leonardo da Vinci, but he hired a more conservative artist for his portrait and chose to be portrayed in a classic profile view, which records his features but provides no psychological insight.  He most likely wanted to link his image with the great rulers of the ancient past, depicted in side views on coins and medals like those shown in the case nearby  D'Ambroise himself was an avid coin collector as he proudly demonstrates here."

I'm going to assume the curator knows a lot more than I do about art and this painting.  But I'm not sure why a side view can't provide psychological insight, or that a full face portrait can.  But what little we learn tells us a great deal.  With a different haircut, or maybe just a baseball cap, he could fit in walking down the street today.  There was a hierarchy of which he was in an upper level, and he collected coins.  And the painter could easily get work in today's world.  Both could probably fit into 2024 fairly easily with a little bit of coaching on the advances of science.  

The one on the right is not as old (about 1699), painted by French artist  Nicolas Colombel who lived from 1644-1717.  He died fifteen years before George Washington was born.  He was a year younger than Isaac Newton, but died ten years before Newton.  Nevertheless, the story of Cupid (Eros) and Psyche is much older.  Wikipedia tells us:

"Eros and Psyche appear in Greek art as early as the 4th century BC"

The curator wrote the following to accompany this painting:

"The jealous goddess Venus sent her son Cupid to make Psyche fall in love with a horrible monster.  Instead, Cupid became enamored himself and installed Psyche in a palace where he visited her at night so that she couldn't learn his identity.  One night she stole a peek at his beautiful face.  Startled awake, Cupid left immediately, and his palace vanished.  Psyche wandered the earth search for her lover, performing impossible tasks set by Venus in hopes of winning him back.  Finally, Jupiter intervened:  he made Psyche a goddess and reunited her with Cupid, giving their story a happy ending.  Here Cupid has just abandoned Psyche, who chases him as he hovers out of reach.  This moment allows Colombel, a French artist who was trained in Rome, to show the Roman countryside - the appropriate setting for this classical myth." 

So this story goes back 2500 years, yet we have the same human emotions and conflicts: a woman possibly falling in love with a monster (how many battered wives are there today?);  a forbidden young love;  a jealous and vengeful mother-in-law (no they aren't married, but Venus was Cupid's mother).  I'm not sure why the curator thinks the Roman woods to be the appropriate background, perhaps because the Romans appropriated much of Greek culture including their myths.  

I knew from the beginning this post was going to be much too long, so let me jump to another exhibit - this of Ausralian aboriginal artists.  

These large detailed paintings speak to me in a language I can't identify.  They tell stories of people and worlds I do not know.  Yet they move me a great deal.  This is a beauty and a visual language that still exists, outside of Western culture.   

Here's detail of a painting called Kalipinypa Rockhole (2003) painted by Elizabeth Marks Nakamara.  The curator writes:

"Lightning bolts that ignite the sky are the source for this striking white maze.  Kalipinypa is an important site where ancestral forces swept in with a huge storm that caused lightning to flash and water to rush across the country.  They left behind a rock hole surrounded with sandhills that are seen here as vibrant patterns created by dotting that fuses into lines that wiggle ever so slightly.  Elizabeth Marks Nakamara was married to the renowned artist Mick Namarari.  She watched his painting for years but did not begin to paint herself until after his death in 1998."

One more from that collection.  There's no story with the description - just the facts: 

" Marapinti, 2016

Acrylic on canvas

Nanyuma Napangati

Australian Aboriginal, Pintupi people,

Papunya, Western Desert, Northern Territory,

born 1940"

Most of what I know about Australian Aboriginal culture comes from Bruce Chatwin's book Songlines, which I wrote about here.  And songlines (check the link, really!) are clearly part of this art.  Truly a book worth reading.  

Another descriptor at this exhibit read:

"'Dreaming is an all-embracing concept that provides rules for living, a moral code, as well as rules for interacting withthenatural environment' - Jeannie Herbert Nungwarrayi(Walpiri speaker) 2000

Dreaming is known by Pintupi speakers as Tjukurrpa.  Tjukurrpa is called a template for a dynamic duty or way of observing laws passed down by ancestors - the powerful shape-shifting creators who formulated the earth's features, people, and culture.  Dreamings stimulate intellectual and emotional life, as people recall extensive genealogies and ceremonial song cycles that describe the ancestors' adventures.  No country - the lands, waters, flora, and fauna of an area - is without a trail of their presence, which offers a living continuum of wisdom for all to learn from.

Dotting was a biodegradable at for for centuries - on ceremonial objects, in sand paintings, and on painted and adorned bodies.  Dots of ochres, down, feathers, and leaves could at times totally overcome a human form, enabling dancers to enter a mythic envelope as they enacted ceremonies. Dots began appearing in painting as a echo of this sacred significance.  Some contend they help conceal sacred knowledge, and others suggest they express the flash of ancestral power.'

Surely, there's nothing here more supernatural than believers of Western religions embrace.  

There was so much more reshaping edges of my brain and heart.  The ways of human beings haven't really changed all that much since homo sapiens appeared.  When politicians call for STEM education that leaves out art and music and humanities, we leave students with a huge hole.  Science has given us a way to tinker with nature, but without a study of the human spirit and behavior and morality, we leave out the part that helps us make decisions about what technology is worth pursuing and what is likely to give us more pain than joy.  

We are reminded about this daily - from the movie Oppenheimer, to politicians' inability to pass gun reform that would significantly reduce the loss of life, to the onset of AI as a profit making venture that has the possibility of eliminating people's ability to discern truth.  

Reading - Demon Copperhead and If I Survive You

Demon Copperhead won a Pulitzer Prize and has had lots of publicity so I won't add much to what's out there, only to note some similarities to If I Survive You.

First I read Demon Copperhead for my bookclub.  A deep dive into being poor in Appalachia.  The hero in this David Copperfield inspired novel struggles to survive in a world shaped by addiction.  Author Barbara Kingsolver makes it clear that the addiction is the fault of the pharmaceutical companies whose owners and operators profit off of getting as many people addicted to opioids as possible.  Anyone who comes in contact with the health field and has some insurance of agency to subsidize their habit - foster kids, vets, the elderly, those employed with health insurance in any level job is fair game.  But Damon (Demon) has David’s (Copperfield) pluck and resilience as he bobs up and down in rural western Virginia, mostly.  (Thought I'd blogged about this one already, but I only mentioned it in passing.)

[As I move to If I Survive You, I'd say the main characters share struggling to make ends meet, being part of groups that are discriminated against (in Copperhead it's being from rural Appalachia) though Demon knows well who his cultural people are, just not his birth family.  Both are trying to overcome their own self doubts, though Demon seems more successful.  In some ways not having family may have given him an advantage over Trelawny who is in a constant fight with his father and brother.]

[I started this yesterday, but I'm adding a few notes today (Oct 3) but I'll leave what I wrote yesterday in the present tense.]

Now I’m on my second plane today and I’ve finished If I Survive You.  This book, by Jonathan Escoffery, has been shortlisted for the Booker Prize.  It was among five and this one was at Loussac Library and available just before we left.  

It started out being about a youth, Trelawny, trying to figure out who he was.  Not personally, though, of course, that’s always there, but who did he belong to/with.  His parents and brother were born in Jamaica, but he was born in Miami and people keep reminding him that he speaks white which alienates him from the family and pretty much everyone else.  The Hispanics take him in at school, thinking he’s one of them and they pity him because his parents don’t speak Spanish. When they find out he’s Jamaican, they drop him.  “Am I black?” is a question he gets varying answers to until he gets to a midwestern college where everyone assumes, yes, he is.  

But then the book veers into many other directions.  The father/son and sibling relationships are painful to him and the reader.  It’s not clear to me to whom the “YOU” in the title refers - his father?  His brother?  The family?  Himself?  The world?  

The book took me around south Florida and introduced me to a lot of folks struggling with different ways to keep a roof overhead - musicians, an arborist, a boat captain for rent, school teachers, a nursing home flunky, and in the end a very wealthy couple with their own devils to overcome.  

It feels like this is more a collection of stories than a novel; the same characters run through most of the stories.  The one that haunts me most is “Splashdown.”  In it we see Trelawny's cousin finally meeting the father who he's never met.  But the nursing home chapter ("Independent Living") is a mini expose of that industry.  and the final chapter ("If I Survive You") is equally gripping and kinkier.  They all explore how the need for money causes people to do things they probably wouldn't and definitely shouldn't.  The last one adds a more direct example of privilege folks using a poor man for their own (apparent) gratification and that cause him conflicts between his moral standards, personal dignity, and money.  It essentially asks, how much money will it take to get you to do X?  When the money is small change to the offering party but significant to Trelawny.  

I don’t regret reading this book, but at the end I am haunted by the characters and their struggles. 

This is the United States we live in today, where there are a few people who have managed to vacuum obscene amounts of wealth out of everyone else.  Then there are others who would appear to live quite comfortably.  But over the last three or four decades, the rules of engagement have changed enough that more and more people are sliding out of the comfortable faction into the world of economic (not to mention psychic) struggle the characters in this book deal with daily.  

    

Thinking about this book as I reread what I've written - first on the plane when I finished the book and now as I add and edit - I know this is a book that I won't forget.  The scenes are so real that I almost feel like I was there.