It can't happen here! Oh yes it can!

Susan Stubson of Casper has been writing Wyoming-based op-ed columns for many years. Most have to do with her family and her husband Tim who once was a state legislator and ran unsuccessfully for a Wyoming's lone U.S. House seat in 2016. Susan is a fine pianist and I've been on hand to hear her perform. She once sat on the board of the Wyoming Arts Council where I worked for 25 years. You could not find a more determined advocate of the arts and arts education. 

Sunday's New York Times op-ed section featured a column by Susan, "What Christian Nationalism Has Done to My State and My Faith is a Sin." It takes guts to write a column like this for the most Liberal of Mainstream Media. She could have written it for my modest blog and a few Wyomingites, liberals mostly, would have read it and nodded their heads. But a NYT op-ed -- that gets attention. This is an era when getting attention from Christian Nationalists is a dangerous proposition.

She opens her column with an anecdote from her husband's 2016 campaign:

I first saw it while working the rope line at a monster-truck rally during the 2016 campaign by my husband, Tim, for Wyoming’s lone congressional seat. As Tim and I and our boys made our way down the line, shaking hands and passing out campaign material, a burly man wearing a “God bless America” T-shirt and a cross around his neck said something like, “He’s got my vote if he keeps those [epithet] out of office,” using a racial slur. What followed was an uncomfortable master class in racism and xenophobia as the man decanted the reasons our country is going down the tubes. God bless America.

Those of us paying attention during the 2016 presidential election had similar experiences, especially if you were active in the Republican Party. But it goes way beyond that. Those "God, Guns, Trump" signs still adorn pick-up bumpers in the Wyoming capital of Cheyenne. We are 180 highway miles from the Stubson's city of Casper. We are rivals and different in many ways but Susan's description of WYO GOP antics was on full display here during the legislative session. I refer you to WyoFile's coverage of the session to get insight on the debacle.

Read Susan's column and despair. The problem of Christian Nationalism is right out there in the open. Trump turned religion and hate into commodities, one being trumpeted by those who ban books and drag shows across the country. It is magnified when you live in a rural state such as Wyoming. Doesn't have to be that way but that's the course Republicans decided to follow. Wyoming Rev. Rodger McDaniel wondered on Facebook recently if Florida wasn't the Berlin of the 1930s. You know the one, the creeping evil theatre-goers experience when they go to "Cabaret." If you know your history, you see how it happened -- one tiny bite at a time. Fascism isn't a special-effects movie monster -- it's your preacher or priest, your neighbor, your cousin. 

“When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross.”

This quote has been attributed to Nobel-Prize-winning writer Sinclair Lewis but researchers do not vouch for the exact attribution. But it’s worth repeating in these times. For more of Lewis’s biting critique of life in the U.S., look up some of his other quotes or read “Babbitt,” “Main Street,” or "It Can't Happen Here." For some strange reason, this last one about a dystopian America shot up the bestseller charts after the 2016 election. 

Botanist Trevor Bloom doesn't like what he sees in Wyoming's early wildflower blooms

This April 6 WyoFile post brings us more good news about global warming:

Wyoming botanist Trevor Bloom spotted his first springtime blooms of the year on March 28. Bloom, while tracing the footsteps of famed ecologist Frank Craighead at Blacktail Butte in Grand Teton National Park, saw the orogenia linearifolia, or snowdrop, wildflower. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a wildflower, besides a dandelion, flowering in March,” Bloom said. The snowdrop bloom was nearly a month earlier than Craighead had recorded in the 1970s. “It means we’re probably going to have a very early spring this year. It probably means that we’re going to have very low water levels, and we’re probably going to have an increased risk of wildfire this year.”

So, early spring, lack of snow, low water levels, and more fires. Ah, summer in the Rockies, 2022.

Seems as if we are ahead of schedule as far as bulb plants. Some of mine already are flowering. The Cheyenne Botanic Gardens show some early blooms in its “Hero Garden” of native plants. Not sure what effects the wild winds have had. Most plants seem to be deciding if it’s safe to raise their heads or if we will have our usual spring of snow and wind and cold punctuated by 60-degree calm and sunny days.

My home gardening will be limited this year. During The Covid Year, I commandeered the kitchen table to sprout my seeds. When June arrived, the containers on the porch were filled, absorbing the sun and hiding from hail. It felt normal, as if a plague wasn’t decimating the globe. We all had our survival; tactics. Some gardened, some baked sourdough loaves, others watched endless video loops on YouTube and TikTok. I gardened and read and wrote. Also, Netflix and Hulu.

I will buy some seedlings and plant seeds. I need to grow something. Call it a celebration of summer’s arrival. It may bring drought and fire. But I’m going to grow flowers and cherry tomatoes beneath my rooftop solar array. The pensive William Wordsworth, wanderer of England’s Lake Country, loved to conjure daffodils when resting on his couch.

They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

In "Ridgeline," a Wyoming tale of Hubris vs. Nemesis

Casting about on the new book releases during the summer, I came across "Ridgeline," a new novel by Michael Punke. He's the author of "The Revenant," an historical novel about Hugh Glass, a bear attack in the wilderness, and Glass's long journey to get revenge to those in his hunting party who left him behind. Leonardo DiCaprio played Glass in the movie which did for grizzly bear attacks what Jaws did for swimming with sharks. Seemed like a realistic depiction of what was the western wilderness in the 1840s. 

In "Ridgeline," Punke tackles what's now called the Fetterman Fight at the foot of Wyoming's Bighorns. On Dec. 21, 1866, a contingent of warriors from Plains tribes, led by Crazy Horse and Red Cloud, lured a U.S. Cavalry contingent from their new fort and ambushed them. Indians died but so did Fetterman and his 81 troopers. Next Tuesday will mark the 155th anniversary of that day. The author depicts the battle so realistically that it's easy to feel the heat of battle on that first day of winter so long ago. Anyone who has visited Fort Phil Kearny, the Wagon Box Fight site, and any of these contested lands in what is now Johnson and Sheridan counties. At the end, I was able to revel in the Indians' victory while still feeling empathy for the soldiers. They were guilty of that classic trait of hubris. They considered the Indians ignorant savages and learned otherwise. Funny how history keeps repeating itself. 

I reviewed the book for WyoFile and you can read it at https://wyofile.com/punkes-new-novel-shines-light-on-fetterman-fight/. Punke is a Wyoming native who grew up in Torrington and served as a living history interpreter at Fort Laramie National Historic Site. He's a UW grad and served as a U.S. trade representative overseas before returning to the West and now lives in Missoula. 

Here's the review's opener:

A good historical novel should be a ripping yarn, one that keeps us turning pages long after bedtime. The writer makes this world so interesting that we want to dash off to the library or the Internet to find out more. The novel’s historical facts should also be solid. Nothing like sloppy research to ruin a good read.

It’s a lot to ask. And into this mix comes the red-hot topic of the year: Which history should we teach our kids? Conservatives wax apoplectic about the New York Times “1619 Project” and its stated goal to tell the real story about slavery. Many prefer the history we learned in fourth grade during simpler times, that America is the greatest nation on earth, by jiminy.

Enter Michael Punke’s new novel, “Ridgeline,” published by Henry Holt and Co. It’s a story about what is known as Red Cloud’s War, which began in 1866 along the Bozeman Trail in Wyoming’s Powder River Country. 

Two Chicano artists from Wyoming tell their stories at Meow Wolf Denver

There's a story here.

That's what I said to myself when I found out that two Chicano artists with Wyoming roots were charged with installing their artwork in the trippy Meow Wolf Denver.

WyoFile agreed and published it today. Go read it here.

Adrian H. Molina (a.k.a. Molina Speaks) is "an artist, performer, master of ceremonies, and human bridge." He grew up in Rawlins, earned his undergrad and law degrees at UW, and then departed to Denver to pursue not law but art.

Visual artist Stevon Lucero grew up in Laramie, attended UW and, in 1976 departed for Denver with his young family in tow.

The two artists are members of the burgeoning Denver Latino arts community. They still maintain ties with Wyoming but their careers now radiate from the big city to the south.

Two more members of what Grady Kirkpatrick on Wyoming Public Radio refers to as "the Greater Wyoming Diaspora." Young people grow up here, attend UW, and then depart for greener pastures. Cities are magnets for creative people where they find encouragement and audiences. Disappointment, too, as artists from rural communities find they are competing with scores of equally talented people. That may beat them down or it may challenge them to excel. One never knows.

I've worked in the Wyoming arts scene for 30 years. Creativity prospers in the expected places and ones that surprise you. Sometimes artists become part of the Wyoming diaspora but you can see the place's influence in their work. That's true of Lucero's paintings at Meow Wolf inspired by lucid dreaming about an oddball Wyoming landmark. 

Meow Wolf Denver opened Sept. 17. Some interesting articles about it have appeared. Here's one. Molina is quoted therein. 

Weekend Round-up: Wolf says Meow, gigantic garden seed pods, and Notre Dame Cathedral visits the West

The garden has been winterized and the bulbs are in the ground. A pretty good year for tomatoes and Purple Podded Pole Beans, which I keep getting from the library's seed library because I like the name. Sounds like a crop a Martian might grow. The vines took over my container garden. Not tasty raw but can grow to incredible lengths because the beans blend in with the purple stems. There are some big ones, too. Not "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" big, but they're scary. The bigger they are, the tougher they are. Tomato varieties: Gold Nugget and Baxter's Early Bush Cherries. 

Mystery foliage still thrives in my big front yard flower pot. Looks like parsley but at first I thought cilantro since I was throwing around cilantro seeds in the spring. I used Plant ID but came up with nothing. I'll take some leaves into the Botanic Gardens and ask the experts. 

My two crabapple trees seem to be taking hold. Planted by Rooted in Cheyenne in August, they're six-feet tall and the leaves are dropping with the seasons. Must remember to water them on a regular basis. Weather Channel has mega-storms hitting the West Coast but whether the moisture makes its way to the Interior West is yet to be seen. Forecast calls for hurricane-force winds and giant waves on the Washington coast and up to eight inches of rain in California and multiple feet of snow in the Sierras. Pray for snow! Fortunately, Halloween is nigh and we all know what Halloween usually looks like around here.

I finished an article for WyoFile this week and it should appear online mid-week. It features two Wyoming-bred artists now living in Denver who highlight their work at the new Meow Wolf Denver. The four-story art outpost, wedged between I-25 and Colfax Avenue, opened Sept, 17. More than 300 artists contributed to the immersive art exhibit called Convergence Station, “the convergence of four different dimensions.” Haven't seen it in person yet but traveled there virtually through the imaginations of the artists. Look for my byline this week.

I just read "The Lincoln Highway" by Amor Towles. Color me clueless but I had never heard of this writer who has written many books. I will read more now that I blew through the latest on Kindle. The title attracted me. I live along the Lincoln Highway which was Hwy. 30 until it was swallowed up by I-80. I've researched the origins of America's first transcontinental highway for my novel. Fascinating stuff. Billy, an eight-year-old Nebraska boy in Towles novel, is fascinated by it and wants to travel it. But wanting to travel it in 1954 as Kerouac did just a few years earlier is tougher than it seems and launches his 400-page adventure. Great read. 

I'm also reading the new book of poetry by Betsy Bernfeld of Jackson and Laramie. Betsy is not only an accomplished poet but also an attorney and former librarian. I still treasure the tour of the old Jackson library Betsy led me on when I first came to work at the Wyoming Arts Council. That was the old log cabin library that smelled of wood. The new library is a work of art. I visit it every time I'm in Teton County. Betsy's book, "The Cathedral is Burning," was published by the fine Finishing Line Press in Lexington, Kentucky. It's one of the small presses that keeps literature alive in the U.S. and around the world. The book's cover features "The Mothers: Las Madres Project. No Mas Lagrimas, a public artwork about migrants in the Arizona desert at Pima Community College in Tucson. 

The other day I was thinking: how come there aren't more movies about poets? There are a few big names who have made it to the screen: Dante Alighieri, Allen Ginsberg, Shakespeare, Sylvia Plath, Siegfried Sassoon, Wilfred Owen, Emily Dickinson. That's a pretty good start. 

Surfing the streaming channels, I came across a film on Netflix about John Keats. I know Keats as a suffering English poet of the Late Romantic Period who died young at 25. He excelled at odes -- you don't see to many of those these days. "Ode to a Nightingale," "Ode on a Grecian Urn," etc. I wasn't familiar with "Bright Star," a poem that speaks of mortality and youthful love. It's a beautiful poem that became the title of Jane Campion's movie, "Bright Star." Set in 1819 in a rural area just outside London, it tells the tale of a morose Keats and Fanny Brawne, a lively young woman was makes her own clothes and loves to dance. She is smitten with the scrawny poet. He eventually is smitten enough to write her several poems. His consumption gets supercharged after a night out in the rain. 

It's all over but the suffering. 

Thing is, Keats is doomed but the film is about Fanny's lovesickness. She is obsessed with Keats and she gets little in return. When he travels to London, she's in bed for five days, asking her mother why love hurts so bad. I kept hearing Nazareth's "Love Hurts" in my head. But her infatuation puts any pop song's lyrics to shame. She is physically ill when Keats goes to Rome to heal and won't take her along. She is torn asunder when word reaches her about the poet's death. They weren't married but were only informally engaged because her mother won't consent because she thinks her daughter is tetched and "people are talking." In mourning, she makes her own widow's weeds, cuts off her hair, and walks the heath for six years reciting her man's poems. That is worth a collection of odes right there. So sad to see her walking the heath reciting "Bright Star." She eventually marries and has three children but her future is also tied to Keats' gathering fame. 

Today I read a batch of Keats' poems and they are impressive. I also read some criticism that followed Keats post-mortem. I've always been more taken with Wordsworth and Coleridge and Blake of the Early Romantic Period. Later, Shelley was pretty cool although his wife was more cool. Lord Byron dies the true Romantic's death when he leaves poesy to fight a war that had nothing to do with him. Strange thing is, it seems as if Keats has a stronger legacy as the suffering creative genius. He was poor and unknown in his time. But the poet who suffers is still with us. And the poet's betrothed is the one whose suffering I felt most. 

Writing and editing, editing and writing, writing and...

Editing and writing. Writing and editing. The two are inseparable. Younger writers, such as myself a half-century ago, write something down and pronounce it finished. I wrote my first novel that way. It got me an agent but it was never published due to the fact it was not a very good novel because it lacked a persnickety editor. If you insist on reading the manuscript, you can find it in the Colorado State University Library Special Collections under "Future Wars." It used to share a bunker with a very fine Vietnam War Literature section. Look for that under "Past but not Forgotten Wars."

I've edited many of my pieces since then. I've had others edit my work, profs and student colleagues in the CSU MFA program and the writing critique group I've belonged to for a dozen years. I wasn't always pleased with the comments. That's one of the things about the process. It's not always pleasant. It's the only way to grow.

For the pasty couple years, I've been writing art reviews for Wyofile's Studio Wyoming Review. It's a joy to go into a museum, gallery or studio and learn about art. You'd think that after 25 years at the Wyoming Arts Council where art was on the menu every day, I'd have enough art to last me during my dotage. But the life of an arts administrator features a lot of administration and very little time to appreciate art. These days, I can take on an assignment and spend plenty of time appreciating art and talking with the artists. A half-hour discussion with an artist can tell you so much more than any artist's statement plastered on a gallery wall. 

My final SWR piece appeared last Friday, a book review: Exploring the roots of Basque poetry from a Wyoming perspective. WyoFile editors are discontinuing SWR on June 30. They plan to devote more time and resources to features on the state's many daunting challenges. Recent examples are Dustin Bleizeffer's two stories:  'Love it or leave: The choices facing Wyoming's youth and Portraits of Wyo youth: Six visions of a future in the state. The brain drain of young people leaving the state has been going on for a long time but it may be about to be an epidemic. The articles left me depressed as I already have a son who sought opportunities in Tucson and my daughter looks outside Wyoming for her career as a photographer. Wyoming is one of the most photogenic places on the planet. But as a wise artist once said, "You can't eat the scenery." 

Fill out this short Facebook poll to give us some ideas about where SWR can go from here.

I came to today's blog with the idea to compare/contrast my latest review, the one I submitted and the edited one. I wondered if my version would be superior to the edited one. In some ways, I am still that sensitive young writer. I put both versions side-by-side on my big screen. I read each line. Damned if the revised version wasn't better. 

Blogs in their purest form are not supposed to be heavily edited. If I understand correctly the Blogosphere's many fungible rules, changes you make after a blog is posted must be noted. That is left entirely in the blogger's hands. We can be trusted with many things. Editing is a sacred trust and I treat it accordingly.

What does it cost to save a life?

I am pleased that WyoFile published my review of Katherine Standefer's nonfiction book, "Lightning Flowers: My Journey to Uncover the Cost of Saving a Life." In it, the author recounts her diagnosis of Long QT Cardiac Syndrome and how the cure can sometimes be as daunting as the ailment.

Standefer walks Planet Earth with an implantable cardioverter defibrillator (ICD). It's a high-tech device about the size of a Zippo lighter (remember those?) that surgeons implant in a cardiac patient's chest. If that person's heart experiences irregular rhythms or stops, it shocks it back to life. As one research center noted: "It is like having paramedics with you at all times." 

Tiny paramedics.

Standefer playfully calls this intricate medical device her "titanium can." When we met online in November, she said, "Welcome, Cyborg." 

Surgeons installed my ICD in July 2013 when I was 62. Read my blogs about it here and here. 

Standefer is at least a generation younger than me. However, her cardiac problem is genetic and is a killer. 

In 2009, she was a 24-year-old college grad living in Jackson. She busily balanced outdoor jaunts, a budding relationship, several jobs, and performing in a local band. In what Standefer calls "the last morning of my first life," she passed out in a parking lot and was rushed to the hospital. After tests, a cardiologist said she had Long QT Syndrome and needed a defibrillator implant. If she didn't get one, she was vulnerable to Sudden Cardiac Death which is as final as it sounds. Problem is, she had no catastrophic health insurance for a procedure that could cost as much as $200,000.

This is when Standefer's saga began. 

“Lightning Flowers” explores two questions, Standefer told an audience during a Nov. 18 Zoom reading co-sponsored by Jackson Hole Writers Conference and Jackson Hole Book Trader. The first is: What happens to a 24-year-old who passes out in a parking lot and tries to access proper medical care? And the second: What does it cost to save a life?

First things first. Wyoming residents without means have few options for procedures like this. She found out that Colorado had an indigent care program for state residents. She made the decision to leave her life in Jackson behind and move back to Colorado so she could get the life-saving operation. She did, but there were complications. Once in recovery, she wondered about the second thing: what is the true cost of modern medicine? Her journey takes her to the California lab that made her device and the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. She traveled to Madagascar and Rwanda. She interviewed miners and the impoverished people who lived with the poisonous byproducts of modern medical engineering. And then it was time to write the book.

The U.S medical establishment does one thing very well: research and development. New life-saving gizmos come online all of the time. I have an ICD and artificial knees. My diabetic wife is equipped with an insulin pump. During the Covid crisis, Moderna and Pfizer and others used new technology to develop a vaccine in record time. I received my first injection two weeks ago. I had a passing thought about all the materials the nurses used at the hospital. Syringes, vials, the medicine itself. Where does it all come from and where will it go? 

"Lightning Flowers" prompted me to ponder this question. Last night, the nightly news reported that people in developing countries are less likely than those in developed countries to get vaccinated against Covid. Some countries are raising holy hell about it and I don't blame them. It doesn't take much imagination to conjure a world war caused by lack of access to a cure for a plague. Countries that have vaccine supplies (looking at you, U.S.) are having a difficult time getting it into people's arms. One-percenters fly to places to get vaccine intended for the 99 percent, as in the recent case where a white couple traveled to the Yukon to get vaccine intended for elderly indigenous people. Capitalism at its worst. 

I am a First Worlder with insurance and access to miracle drugs. Millions of others do not have such an advantage. I aim to find out why and report what I find.

Meanwhile, read Standefer's book to trace her journey of discovery. Order a copy from your local indie store. Click the JH Book Trader link above. 

Wyoming Legislature committee advances bill to punish rooftop solar

I sent this via email to Senators Hutchings and Driskill:

This quote comes from a Jan. 21 WyoFile article:

Supported unanimously by the Senate Corporations, Elections and Political Subdivisions Committee, Senate File 16 -- New Net Metering Systems represents the third time in 18 months legislators have sought to cut the amount paid to customers who generate more solar electricity than they use.

We installed rooftop solar last spring and saw reductions in Black Hills Energy bills in the sunny months but not much difference since last October. It’s a work in progress. I still pay the going rates for natural gas heating and hot water. I also still buy coal- and gas-generated energy to prop up the solar. I buy locally and pay state sales taxes. I’ve lived in Wyoming for 30 years and done my best to make it a better place.

Is SF 16 just another way for the GOP-dominated legislature to smack down the solar power industry?

Wyomingites, especially us retirees, are finding that rooftop solar can save money when household budgets are strained by the pandemic. Why would you want to halt that? We are doing our bit to address global warming. What are you doing?

I advise that you spend more time in planning for the alternative energy future rather than bemoaning the fossil fuel past. 

Do your job. Defeat SF 16! 

Sincerely,

Michael Shay

Nursing home signs should read: Welcome to the Titanic. There are no lifeboats

I don't always read the AARP Bulletin. It's a good publication with lots of helpful info for retirees like me. But, you know, there are books and the Internet and football and writing and "Queen's Gambit" on Netflix. 

This issue of the Bulletin carried a red banner crying SPECIAL EDITION and below that this header: "Covid-19 & Nursing Homes: An American Tragedy." It grabbed me because my stepmother died of Covid in a Florida long-term care facility. And I have been reading other articles on the subject since March and have been shocked with how many people my own age have died. I am 69 now but next week is my birthday and people in their 70s and 80s with underlying conditions are most vulnerable. I soon will be in that cohort.

This comes from the WyoFile weekly pandemic report, 12/11/20:

The Wyoming DOH has reported 321 Covid-19 deaths. That includes 128 in November, the most of any month so far. Many of these have been related to long-term care facilities. Wyoming now ranks third in the country for its rate of nursing-home-related deaths, the Casper Star-Tribune reports.

So there's that. And this subhead from the Bulletin:

In one of the most devastating health debacles in our nation's history, some 54,000 residents and workers in long-term care facilities died of causes related to the coronavirus within four months of the first known infection.

The article spans the 18 weeks from Feb. 29 and the first death in a Seattle nursing home to June 22. The best things are personal stories of patients, family members and health-care workers. Cami Nedleigh relates the story of her mother, Geneva Wood, a resident of the Life Care Center of Kirkland, Wash. Wood went into Life Care in late January to recover from a stroke. She was supposed to be released in early March but fell and broke her hip the last week of February. She stayed in Life Care. 

This from Wood: 

My roommate was coughing. Everybody was saying bronchitis. The I got a cough and could barely breathe. Thought it was pneumonia. I remember them saying I had a 102 fever. I guess I didn't know enough to be scared.

And Nedleigh: 

Mom got better, thankfully. She's a tough old Texas broad. But Mom's roommate didn't make it.

The article conjures scenes of chaos and bravery. In the first week of March, 27 of 108 residents and 25 of the 180 staff had the virus. And nobody really knew what it was and how to treat it. This led to many deaths.

Timothy Killian (Life Care spokesman): We all grew up with these movies about pandemics, in which the government vans swoop in and take control. As the situation escalated and the facility went into lockdown and people started dying. I kept expecting some type of coordinated response, but we saw nothing of that nature.

The facility, of course, gets some of the blame. Killian had obviously seen "Contagion" and "Outbreak." In the latter film, a monkey has the virus and ends up in a California small-town pet shop and starts spreading the virus. The commanding general of the national response team won't act because he knows the virus came from an Army bioweapons lab. Epidemiologists Dustin Hoffman and Renee Russo sneak into the site and start doing their good deeds while the evil general (the usually heroic Morgan Freeman) makes plans to seal off the town and bomb it to destroy the evidence. The most memorable scene takes place in the town's packed movie theater. A virus carrier coughs and we see spit flying around the room in slow motion, landing in people's mouths. Aw hell no, you might say. And you'd be right. 

It hits a bit close to home. Covid carriers were still going to movies in March and spreading the virus to seatmates. Asymptomatic carriers were going out to crowded bars and attending parties. The virus was in pandemic heaven, latching on to many new human hosts and spreading which is what viruses do.

You can read parts of the Bulletin story at the AARP web site. Kudos to David Hochman and contributors for the story. It appears just as the FDA approves the Pfizer vaccine and hope emerges. That doesn't help the many dead and dying in the U.S., almost 300,000 at last count, with a 16 percent fatality rate in long-term facilities. Compare this to the total U.S. fatality rate is 2.3 percent. 

This final quote is from Judith Regan, a publishing executive whose father, Leo Regan, is a resident of the Long Island State Veterans Home, site of 32 deaths:

The residents and staff are being led to slaughter. He is on the Titanic, but there are no lifeboats.

Op-ed: Wyoming native argues for survival of the University of Wyoming Creative Writing Program

I don’t subscribe to our local newspaper, the Wyoming Tribune Eagle. I am not boycotting it for political reasons or because I was the subject of an investigative report that portrayed me as a dirty dog. I just can’t access its content online unless I subscribe. Headlines I can read. Obituaries too. But not news, sports and op-ed which are my favorite sections.

I bought a copy today because it featured an op-ed by a former coworker at the Wyoming Arts Council. Linda Coatney wrote, “Finding my voice included endangered UW writing program.” She traced her evolution as a writer from a 10-year-old poet to a shy high school writer to creative writing workshops at Casper College to enrollment in UW’s master’s degree program in creative writing. And now that program is slated for demolition by the UW Board of Trustees. Why? Because our wingnut legislature failed to plan for a future where the state cannot depend on oil-gas-coal revenue due to the fact that fossil fuels’ day in the sun has set. If only we could have seen this coming.

Read Linda’s column for a stout-hearted defense of the program. Buy the Dec. 3 edition and turn to page A7. She may let me repost the column here once it plays out on the printed page. I am a print guy after a career as a newspaper reporter and editor and stints as a corporate editor, much of that time at the Arts Council. I write in a journal. I read books. I once was a paperboy and so was my son.

I also write for Wyoming’s online newspaper, WyoFile, and keep this blog which will celebrate its 20^th anniversary on Blogger in January. A few days ago I blogged about the UW situation. To read, go here.

The UW Creative Writing Program is tiny when compared to engineering and business and geology. That doesn’t make it any less important when it’s time to cut budgets. In fact, it may be more important to a state that is trying to leap into the 21^st century after spending so much time in the previous one. The creative economy was a major topic during my 25 years at the Arts Council. I like to think that I played a small part in making that a reality and not a dream. It takes time, of course, and Covid-19 showed us how vulnerable the collaborative arts can be. Pandemic precautions have shut down concert venues, theatres, arts conferences, art galleries, author readings and just about anything else that powers America’s arts and entertainment businesses. Artists and arts presenters have found clever ways to promote their work online and even in-person with creative masks and appropriate social-distancing.

Go read Linda’s op-ed and send your thoughts to UW. Or comment here and I will pass it along.

In the COVID-19 era, what happens in Vegas does not stay in Vegas

For my novel set in 1919 Denver, I've conducted research on World War I, women's suffrage, Prohibition, transportation, and the Flu Pandemic of 1918-19. There's plenty of info on all of them. The most chilling stories outside of Europe's trench warfare come from the pandemic. I was rereading historian Phil Roberts' account of the flu pandemic in Wyoming. It originally appeared on wyohistory.org and reprinted recently on wyofile. This was part of a story in the Thermopolis newspaper on Jan. 8, 1919:

“Entering the home of a neighbor a few days ago J. B. Baer, of Ismay, found the farmer and his wife with two children lying dead in their beds, a third child dying on the floor. All were victims of influenza. The last child died shortly after he had been taken to another ranch for treatment. Indications showed that the entire family had been stricken together and had died partly from starvation, being unable to help each other.”

Wyoming's Bighorn Basin was the last part of Wyoming to be settled at the turn of the 20th century. You can still see a whole lot of wide open in the Basin. Imagine how it looked in 1918, a few decades after settlers wandered in. More than likely, that neighbor in the article lived miles away instead of right next door. Wyoming's towns had it tough enough in the 1918 pandemic with proximity breeding contagion. Just think how it would be if you lived miles from nowhere in winter-bound WYO, caught the flu and brought it home to the family.  

CNN featured an opinion piece by John Avion on the pandemic's course in Denver. The flu had swept through the only city of any size in the northern Rockies. The mayor called for a shutdown in October. Flu cases subsided and in early November and the city decided to  have a parade to celebrate the armistice. A week later, the flu came back with a vengeance. On Nov. 22, new cases began to spike and on Nov. 27, the Denver Post featured this headline: "All Flu Records Smashed in Denver in Last 24 Hours." All told, 8,000 people died in Colorado, compared to 700-800 in Wyoming.

Avion sums up his piece this way:

As Harry Truman said, "The only thing new in the world is the history you don't know." Public health is among the most difficult government actions -- when actions work they seem like overreactions. What's unforgivable is for leaders to remain willfully ignorant of history and therefore doomed to repeat it. Their weak-kneed decisions could result in the death of someone you love.

Think about this as we see governors such as Brian Kemp in Georgia want to open up tattoo parlors and gyms. Or when a mayor such as Carolyn Goodman in Las Vegas offers up her city to be the country's  "control group" for removing strict social distancing measures. 

Hate to tell the mayor this but when COVID-19 parties in Vegas, it does not stay in Vegas. 

The subject may be roaches but, if you look closely, you see so much more

My latest piece for Wyofile's Studio Wyoming Review has the header "The subject is roaches," a review of Laramie artist Shelby Shadwell's exhibit at Blue Door Arts in Cheyenne. Pretty good header for an arts review as cockroaches and bugs in general don't come up that often. For good reason -- nobody likes a roach, at least the kind in the animal world (none of the other kind in WYO, at least not legally). I have never seen a roach of any type in WYO. Bugs prefer the hot sweltering climes of the South.

I grew up in the South and have seen hundreds of cockroaches. You turn on the kitchen light at 2 a.m. for a snack, and you hear them skittering back to their hideouts -- you might even catch a quick glimpse of one. You can wake up on a sunny Florida morning and see one staring at you across the pillow. You might be driving along and see one riding shotgun in your rusty 1972 Ford Torino. It's not merely bad housekeeping, although I have been guilty of that. Roaches will inherit the earth. It's not too much to imagine that roaches and their pals in the insect world will be running the show in the year 5020. Of course, we may be living in Kevin Kostner's Waterworld by then. But if I know my roaches, they will find ways to backstroke their way into your giant catamaran or floating fortress or wherever our soggy future relatives live.

Shadwell's show is a small one in a relatively small gallery. The art is big. Blue Door Arts proprietor Terry Kreuzer cracked me up when I asked her how she got a rising star such as Shadwell to show in her gallery in Cheyenne's most famous downtown building that would be deserted if it weren't for the enterprising artists on the ground floor.

"I asked him," she said.

Later, I was puzzled by the fact that the artist has shown rarely in Wyoming. He's been at The Nic in Casper and at the Jackson Art Center. Never in Cheyenne, according to his artist resume. Ironic since I note in my SWR piece that he has received two visual arts fellowships from the Wyoming Arts Council headquartered right here in Capital City. It just shows there are few exhibit spaces for contemporary artists in Cheyenne and Wyoming. You might say that is fitting in a state where artists are more interested in quaking aspen and the Grand Tetons than in abstractions and gigantic roaches. Au contraire, I say. I worked at the Wyoming Arts Council for 25 years and came to know plenty of artists who walk on the wild side in their work. For artists, it makes it tough to survive in an already tough place if there are no places to show your work,

It's not all about artists and galleries. It's never been more important to express yourself. That goes for everybody. Members of the ruling junta, Trump and his cronies, have no aesthetics. Art is just a commodity to them, like a yacht or a 50-room garish Shangri-la on the beach (any roaches at Mar-A-Lago?). It's no accident that Trump wants to review all government architecture, make sure it is "classical" instead of some crazy-quilt modern architecture that doesn't imitate the Parthenon. Trump and his GOP pals are working to defund the arts, humanities, and museums. The creative world is what threatens their destructive impulses. No accident that artists have worked to transform Trump's No Brown People border wall into something artistic. The odds are stacked against them as they are up against the monoliths of power and money. But you gotta try.

Their daily assault on our democracy is also an assault on our senses. It's important to create to counter that. It doesn't have to be a direct blast at No-Nothingness. The creative act itself is a blow against negativity.

Go make something. And vote. Get involved. Participate in your community. Be kind. And get out and view some art. It might inspire you to do all of these other life-affirming acts.

Keep up with the arts scene at WyoFile's Studio Wyoming Review

WyoFile periodically runs art reviews in its Studio Wyoming Review section. I, periodically, write one of those reviews. My latest appeared on April 9. The subject was "The Art Of Assemblage" exhibit at Blue Door Arts in the Hynds Building downtown. Read it here.

Running through the review is some commentary on the role of the arts in Cheyenne's downtown redevelopment. I moved my family from Fort Collins to Cheyenne in the summer of 1991. The people we met thought we were crazy moving from a cool university town to a cold and windy Wyoming burg. Those same people escaped to FoCo when the roads were passable. It boasted good food, swinging bars, lots of concerts and other activities. It also had a lively downtown.

Cheyenne had none of those things. "There's nothing to do in this town" was the constant refrain, and not only from my kids. Downtown was a ghost town after 5 when the staties (like me) went home.

A lot can change in 28 years. I mentioned some of them in my last post. New restaurants opening. Condo complex even going up, probably the first new residences built downtown since World War II. I dropped by West Edge Collective's parking lot yesterday to buy a six-pack at the Pufkins food truck. It's Cheyenne Restaurant Week and pufkins (muffin-style pancakes) are $10 for six and I bought a couple of breakfasts' worth. Tomorrow I am getting some $1 tacos at La Paz ("Best Tacos y Burritos") on 18th Street just catty-corner from Danielmark's Brewery. IPA first, then tacos.

But wherefore the arts? I have been writing about them for years, both as writer/editor at the Wyoming Arts Council and as a free-lancer. The future looks good for a concert space at the old Lincoln Theatre. The Civic Center offers a great new line-up of events. The summer outdoor concert season will begin as soon as we get all of the snow out of the way. I'll be writing more about the arts in Cheyenne and around the region as time goes by. See you soon.

What kind of horse gets depicted in public art -- and who decides?

Donal O'Toole wrote a fine piece for Studio Wyoming Review last week. It critiqued the public art on the University of Wyoming campus and found it wanting. Too many bucking broncos. I agree. Enough with the bucking broncos. Cowboys riding horses out of a rodeo chute is just one small aspect of Wyoming life (for a different look at rodeo, check out RoseMarie London's photographs). Almost every community has a rodeo. Fine. What other aspects of the rodeo can be depicted in public art? Rodeo has a history but I see few representations of that. What about the Hispanic roots of rodeo? Where are our vaquero statues? What about Native Americans on horseback? UW has one sculpture of Chief Washakie. What is that tradition? Hispanics and Native Americans have long histories with the horse.

The horse itself has a long history in Wyoming. I was amazed to learn that an ancient genus of horse, now labeled Haringtonhippus francisci, roamed Wyoming for thousands of years, until about 17,000 years ago. Then it disappeared from the fossil records. DNA extracted from bones at Wyoming's Natural Trap Cave have shown that this horse is a separate genus from Equus, the one that includes the horses depicted in UW sculptures. The line that includes the North American horse, also called the New World Stilt-legged horse, apparently diverged from Equus 4-6 million years ago, according to a 2017 article in Science Daily.  Here is an artist's rendering from phys.org:

This illustration depicts a family of stilt-legged horses (Haringtonhippus francisci) in Yukon, Canada, during the last ice age. Credit: Jorge Blanco.

As interesting as it would be to see these horses in the wild, it would still be interesting to see artistic renderings of this Ice Age creature on the UW campus. Our history as a geographic place predates the beginnings of cowboys and rodeos. Millions of years of history is explored in science courses at UW. Let's put some examples on display for all to see. There is a funky T-Rex in front of the UW Geology Building. That's so predictable, isn't it? But why not represent all of the flora and fauna that now exists as dirt and shards and fossils (and coal, oil, and gas) underneath our feet? In this era of Climate Change Deniers, wouldn't it be educational to see what sort of life forms led to the eons-long formation of coal deposits which we have burned for fuel which loaded up the atmosphere with CO2 and caused global warming which will melt the polar ice which will then cause the oceans to reclaim some of its ancient territory which includes Wyoming?

Perhaps that is too educational. Chris Drury's "Carbon Sink" at UW tried to represent this and look what happened to that. You have to believe in the values of education to actually make this work. Our current crop of Know Nothing Republicans in the legislature despise higher education because it offers more expansive views of the world than their narrow minds can cope with. These same people fear non-representational art for its ability to challenge assumptions about time and space and imagination.

A different look at a horse: Deborah Butterfield's "Billings" was part of the "Sculpture: A Wyoming Invitational" at UW. From the UW Art Museum blog.

One of my favorite public art installation at UW was the multi-year "Sculpture: A Wyoming Invitational" that began in 2008. UW Art Museum Susan Moldenhauer and staff decided to take art outside during the museum's interior renovation. UW hosted 17 works by 16 artists of international renown. Some were on the UW campus, others scattered around Laramie. I fondly recall walking the campus on a warm summer day to view the artwork and then tooling around town to see the rest. One of my favorites was Patrick Dougherty's "Shortcut," an assemblage of Wyoming sticks and branches that, over the course of several years, was allowed to change with the elements. Students helped the artist, which gave them some real-world experience in alternative sculpture. Then the wind and the rain and the snow took over.

We all learned a valuable lesson about power in Wyoming when energy interests persuaded UW leaders to dismantle and remove "Carbon Sink" on one dark and stormy night. Public art is OK, they seemed to say, as long as it doesn't interfere with the interests of international conglomerates that reap a bountiful harvest from Wyoming. That may be one of the reasons that public art at UW has become so predictable in the Trump era.

The artists continue to make relevant art and the combine, as Chief Broom might say in an inner dialogue, keeps churning along.

My latest art review appeared Friday in Wyofile's Studio Wyoming Review. Read "Worth a thousand words: the work of Laramie photographers."

Keep reading -- and keep making art.