So much has happened in the past few months. Not that you would know it by how often I update this blog. We took a major road trip this summer, and stayed with the Lane family on the Navajo reservation in Arizona…and the fact that I even have to type the word “reservation” makes me close to sick. It’s almost just as bad that I can’t seem to connect the dots for other people when they ask about this experience. It was another way to stand in solidarity with affected people against the tradition of indigenous exploitation of this country.
And now, sitting here, and reviewing the past few weeks, what I remember well is the feeling I always had in east KY. The connection to people and the past, a connection that gets lost here somehow. Maybe it’s the turnover rate of the cities, maybe it’s the beauty of the mountains, I don’t really know.
And folks keep asking, wanting to understand. But I don’t nearly understand, myself.
I know that people generally mean well, and I know that people generally do the best they can with what they have. I know that me being disaffected doesn’t help anything, and doesn’t let me give the best of myself to this world. But damn it I miss living in a place where it feels good to wake up in the mornings, to walk to work, to meander home and watch the mist in the mountains, to square dance til you can’t barely walk. And yeah, occasionally to swig whisky from a jug. I wish I knew where to be most effective.
