My urge to move back wrestles with my urge not to spend 40 minutes in a car going anywhere at all; the ease of living in a walking town. My love for my beautiful home state wrestles with my adoration of my adopted home. When I was out there, I asked myself why I'm always going to Europe & the South when I could be spending time in the West. It's taken me a long time to appreciate where I come from without disclaimers, though they're still there at the same time. I suppose I'll always be a bit bi-geographic, & that's fine. My life is here, my heart is there, except it's here too!
NauenThen
Buffalo roundup
I need to be here breathing the air of the Hills.
The roundup was a little underwhelming but I'm glad that I was there, seeing a SoDak sunrise, goofing around with my friends.
SoDak!
I mostly wanted to post a picture of the beautiful Black Hills and Sylvan Lake, where we spent much of the day but I can't figure out how to do that on my phone. I will add it when I can.
Update: Oh dang it, I'm back at my computer & still not able to add a photo. But I couldn't edit at all till just now, so maybe something has improved....
Happy 132nd Birthday, SoDak
When I was born, Sioux Falls was not quite a hundred years old, & South Dakota had been a state for fewer years than I've now been alive. People who had been born in Dakota Territory were not uncommon.
Not sure what else to say. Maybe that I shouldn't have eaten so much candy corn today. I scored the last bag at Rite-Aid, which has already stocked the seasonal shelves with Christmas candy.
America's pinkest city
This article talks about Sioux quartzite, a very hard, reddish stone. My high school & many important downtown buildings, along with some of the fancy late 19th-century homes on Prairie & Duluth avenues, are made of Sioux quartzite, so it never seemed that special because so ubiquitous. Beautiful, for sure, but how was I to know it wasn't like this everywhere? Read More
SoDak in the news
No more! The Orthodox are coming!
Gauging by the elastic Judaism in my day, it will be quite strange for everyone. Guam might be more familiar to everyone, come to think of it. Read More
Buffalo for the Broken Heart
Yet another snow post
Here's a piece that was published many years ago in Organic Style:
It always snowed on Halloween. White trees leapt out like fists at shivering witches and ballerinas, who stumbled through the neighborhood trick-or-treating, faces up to lick flakes out of the sky. I grew up on the Great Plains Read More
Pierre
Pierre Chouteau (1789–1865) was a fur trader (beaver, deer, buffalo) and son of one of the founders of St. Louis, some 800+ miles down the Missouri from Pierre. The fort named after him was built in 1832, a strategic spot for Read More
State by State
So far so good. Read More
The Jews of South Dakota
South Dakota Tyre & Auto
"Hey! Where'd you get that shirt?" I demanded.
"In London." He was English, a student at NYU.
"I'm from there!"
He looked at his shirt, not sure what "there" I meant. "I just liked it." Was it from a rack full of "Tyre & Auto" t-shirts? Mongolia Tyre & Auto. Austin Tyre & Auto. Managua Tyre & Auto.
"Can I take your picture?" Read More
Snow!
And I'm happy to be still in touch with so many of my friends from high school (and junior high and grade school). There’s so much that feels rootless in my life, but one thing that can’t be taken away is my past.
Although that's not true if you've been lied to, according to an op-ed in the Times: "Insidiously, the new information disrupts their sense of their own past, undermining the veracity of their personal history. Like a computer file corrupted by a virus, their life narrative has been invaded. Memories are now suspect: what was really going on that day? Compulsively going over past events in light of their recently acquired (and unwelcome) knowledge, such patients struggle to integrate the new version of reality. For many people, this discrediting of their experience is hard to accept."
Hey wait, I'm simply happy to think about the beautiful snowfall: I remember sitting on the porch of the Franklin Hotel in Deadwood, watching a thick but not serious snow falling on the spruce hills across the way, so warm that sitting outdoors was a delight.
It is what it was. Read More