Writing and gardening -- two peas in a pod

One of my former state government colleagues advised me about retirement. He retired years before I did and was confronted with many volunteer offers. His wife, in a stroke of genius, advised him to take out his appointment calendar and write "No" on each page. She wanted him free to travel and spend time together.

I was tickled to see this same person on the list of volunteers for the Cheyenne Botanic Gardens. It's a long list -- 88 in all, according to volunteer coordinator Amy Gorbey.  She's the energetic person who keeps tabs on us all. I had taken the couples' advice and held off volunteering for my first two years. For the most part, anyway. I did some volunteering for the Democrats leading up to the 2016 election. We all know how that turned out. I was asked to become part of several boards but declined. I wanted time to write and I that's what I got.

Over time, I feel a need to reconnect with humans. I figured I could have my morning writing time, in solitude, and then spend afternoons greeting visitors and otherwise helping out at the new Cheyenne Botanic Gardens and its new Grand Conservatory.

Thus far at the CBG, I've picked up sticks on the grounds, detritus from spring wind and snow storms. I snacked with some of my fellow volunteers. On Saturday, I staffed the front desk. I greeted many people, most from Cheyenne but others from Colorado and elsewhere. Most walked through the conservatory in less than a half hour and exited. Some lingered. One couple brought in their lunch and ate on the second floor that overlooks the many growing things on the main floor. One young woman carried a book as she disappeared into the gardens. One gentleman had a phone photo of a plant on the third floor and asked me what it was. I sent him and his question over to the horticulturalist. One attendee who exited a baby shower with an armful of gifts, said she was from Torrington and loved the CBG, wished her town has something similar. Not likely, considering the work that went into planning the conservatory and getting the voters to approve a sixth penny amendment to fund it. Cheyenne is the only city of its size to have such an amenity. Some might call it a lifestyle enhancement, as it gets bragged about by the Visit Cheyenne and C of C folks. Voters have approved initiatives for the CBG, a new airport facility, the public library. But they keep rejecting a recreation center. There are as many reasons for these issues as there are voters. Maybe I will explore them in a future column.

The CBG has been treasured by residents since it began its life 40 years ago as a simple greenhouse on U.S. Hwy. 30. Almost every growing thing you see in the city was planted by someone. The only naturally occurring plants belonged to the short-grass prairie. Native Americans and settlers found trees along waterways. In fact, you could I.D. a water source when parched travelers sighted trees off on the horizon. Snow-capped mountains lured people to the West but it was snow melt that brought prosperity. How it was harnessed is one of the West's great stories. Sad ones, too.

I like growing things. Not enough to be a farmer but enough to be a fair-weather gardener. That activity has something in common with writing. You prepare the soil, plant seeds, fertilize and water, and eventually harvest. If you don't like each of these steps, then why bother? I can buy tomatoes at the grocery store and farmer's markets. I can check out books at the library and even buy a few at my local neighborhood bookstore. Why grow my own?

I like the act of writing. It's fun, it's frustrating. After I spent a lifetime writing millions of words, i have finally arrived at a time when I'm pretty good at it. This is the harsh truth of any creative endeavor. There is no quick way to become good at something. This is a definite drawback when it comes to selecting college majors and making a living. But if it gives you meaning, you can't avoid the inevitable. Horticulture majors have a leg up on English majors, unless those well-read folks decide to parlay their knowledge of Emily Dickinson and magical realism into a law school admission.

You can grow a book. You can grow a garden. They both take time and attention, both in short supply in 2018.

Get more info on the Cheyenne Botanic Gardens at https://www.botanic.org/. Tips on writing? So many resources. The act of writing is a prerequisite for the other stuff.

Another generation betrayed by those who should know better

This Saturday, thousands of young people will stage the March for Our Lives anti-gun violence rally in Washington, D.C. Expecting huge crowds, officials have changed the opening day of the annual Cherry Blossom Festival to Sunday, March 25. This also marks the beginning of tourist season for D.C. Spring is gorgeous. The cherry blossoms that surround the tidal basin are spectacular. But this year, the weekend's focus will be on ways that we can stop the slaughter of our children in their schools.

I can only guess at the pain that the Marjory Stoneman Douglas students from Parkland, Fla., feel as they watch their elders dither over gun control. These are the results you get from us – hypocrisy and betrayal. The students’ adversaries are monumental. Its structure will have to be dismantled brick by brick.

I imagine what would have happened if a gunman had entered my Florida school 50 years ago and murdered 17 of my classmates and teachers.

The year, 1968. The school, Father Lopez Catholic High School in Daytona Beach. We 17-year-old juniors have Valentine’s Day on our minds. I hoped I had bought just the right thing for my girlfriend. My girlfriend might have been contemplating the very same thing. Basketball season was winding down and it looked like my Green Wave team was going to win the conference. We had all given up something for Lent. Chocolate. French fries. Cussing. Fear of eternal damnation kept us chaste so there was no reason to give up sex, although we joked about it. Spring break was on the horizon, as was summer, and we were thinking about summer jobs and days on the beach.

We had an open campus. Anyone could walk in and did. Moms delivered forgotten lunches and homework. Visitors dropped by at any time. We would have been sitting ducks for a killer.

It never happened at my school and never has. If 17 of my classmates had been killed, I would have known them all – we had fewer than 400 students in four grades. One of the dead or wounded could have been me. I like to think that I would have been a hero no matter what. I have nothing to base that on because I had never faced a shot fired in anger – and I still haven’t. We would all be devastated. We would be looking for solace and answers.

What would adults have told us? Don’t worry. This is an aberration. The gunman was crazy. It will never happen again.

And we would have believed them.

That was our first mistake. It wouldn’t be our last.

On April 4, 1968, Martin Luther King, Jr., would be gunned down in Memphis. Our school’s mostly-black neighborhood would not be safe. Riots would erupt on Second Avenue which, during those segregated times, was where the black population lived.  

On June 6, Robert Kennedy would be murdered by an assassin. I idolized the Kennedys. RFK and JFK were imperfect human beings. But I was a teen looking for some heroes.  

Florida native Charles Whitman murdered 16 people, most of them from a perch at the University of Texas tower, in July 1966. Not the first mass murder but the fact that it was a former Marine sniper made news. And he was a very angry white man.

On Valentine’s Day 1968, the Tet Offensive was just winding down in Vietnam. Surely this meant the end of a failed experiment, one that was claiming the lives of my peers and many Vietnamese. The war dragged on for another seven years. Our elders, “the best and the brightest,” insisted it was the right thing to do.

None of the adults gave us the real facts about sex. Parents and nuns and priests decided that fear was enough of a deterrent. They were mostly correct, although at least one of our female classmates missed part of the senior year with an unplanned pregnancy. You would not be surprised that pregnant teens found the same censure at public schools. It just wasn’t done. The boys were never blamed.

We knew betrayal, we didn’t yet have a name for it. Members of our generation possessed a simmering rage. That was a problem, because the Summer of Love and the Age of Aquarius had dawned. Peace, love, and understanding. If that was true, how come people were filled with anger? Blacks vs. Whites. Cops vs. pot smokers. Rednecks vs. hippies. Viet Cong vs. the U.S.A. Irish Catholics vs. Protestants. Jews vs. Arabs and almost everyone else.

Flash forward to the present. Seventeen killed and a dozen wounded at a Florida high school. The only ones making sense are 16- and 17-year-old classmates of the dead at Douglas High School. Adults in positions of power are dangerous fools. They spout nonsense that get their children killed.

Betrayed. It’s déjà vu all over again.

It may have its roots in the betrayal that ignited our generation. That was never resolved, or forgotten, just buried as the years passed. We weren’t the first. It’s possible that adults of every generation betray their children. Over time, we lose touch with our values and our kids pay the price. You can say that every generation needs to experience hardships to find out the true nature of the world. Center for Disease Control figures come up with 1.55 million deaths from firearms in the U.S. from 1968-2016. This includes the span of many generations. Wouldn’t a smart, caring community have come up with some solutions by now?

Good people do bad things. Bad people do bad things. That’s an old story. But why do we make it easier for anyone to buy an AR-15, walk into a school, and shoot down 17 people? Haven’t we learned our lessons by now? Columbine, Aurora, Sandy Hook, Orlando, Las Vegas. The list goes on and on. If we don’t do something about it, we betray our children. If we do something about it, we betray only the NRA and our thick-headed politicians.

The choice should be clear. More betrayal, the generational rite of passage? Or do we do something new and different and constructive?

Which will it be?

"Lincoln in the Bardo" explores the gap between tragedy and comedy

George Saunders' novel "Lincoln in the Bardo" is eerie and hilarious. The novel is written by an experienced short story writer and is structured as a series of scenes set in the cemetery where Abraham Lincoln visits the resting place of his 11-year-old son, Willie. Saunders has constructed an excellent novel from snatches of dialogue from dead people and swatches from books about he Civil War era in Washington, D.C. You can be excused for getting lost amidst the first few pages and wondering where the book was going. I did. But I persevered, as you sometimes have to do with a challenging literary work.

At the core of the story is a man mourning the untimely death of his son. How do you cope with such a loss? You could write a book about Lincoln's monumental depression. We have seen public figures deal with the death of their offspring. Joe Biden publicly mourned the death of his son Beau and Beau was a seasoned adult and war veteran. But mourning a young son or daughter is a special kind of hell, one that doesn't require a belief in the actual Hell of the Bible or religious iconography or even Dante. It's a hell on earth.

First, what is a bardo? From Merriam-Webster Online:

The intermediate or astral state of the soul after death and before rebirth.

As is true with all online research, you can use this dictionary definition as a launching pad into a universe of references. Bardo is a Tibetan term that's found in the Bardo Todol in the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Bardo Todol is translated as "Liberation in the Intermediate State Through Hearing."

Here's a quote from a Lion's Roar piece from April 2017:

More generally, the word bardo refers to the gap or space we experience between any two states. The lesser-known bardos described in the traditional texts include the bardo of dreaming, the bardo of meditating, and even the bardo of this life—which is, after all, the intermediate state between birth and death. 

A bardo can even be seen as the pause between one thought and another. I experience bardos on a daily basis but didn't realize it.  Once you know that, the shades that inhabit the cemetery where Willie Lincoln is buried take on a new dimension. They are not ghosts, really, or those dead people with unfinished business who haunt old hotels and abandoned mental asylums. You know, the ones who get the attention of the guys on TV's "Ghost Adventures." These souls in the bardo make up a compelling cast of characters who comment on Willie's funeral and Lincoln's nighttime foray to his son's final resting place. The two main narrators are printer Hans Vollman and Roger Blevins III, an eternally young man with some secrets.

In the reader's guide that follows the novel (Random House trade paperback), Saunders describes the core question in the novel this way: "How do we continue to love in a world in which the objects of our love are so conditional?"

Heartbreak is at the heart off "Lincoln in the Bardo." Lincoln is so heartbroken by Willie's death that he can barely go on, that he forgets he has another young son at home in a sickbed. Some of the most amazing lines in the book happen when each of the spirits admits he/she is dead and transforms into the next life. As they depart, onlookers get a glimpse into their lives before death and the lives they could have led had they lived to a normal life span. I was reminded of the graveyard scenes in "Our Town," when the dead comment on the fragility -- and ignorance -- of the living. Life is a mystery and a tragedy. Heartbreak is our destiny. The ones we love leave us and we are challenged to keep going in this sphere. Lincoln lost a son, lived with an off-kilter wife, and had a war to run. We often hear of "Lincoln the Emancipator" and "Lincoln the Rail-Splitter." The mythic Lincoln. In recent years, we have heard more about the Lincoln with crippling depression. I can hear R.E.M.'s Michael Stipe wailing "Everybody Hurts" as Lincoln makes his way home from the cemetery.

One note about Saunders as short story writer: I hadn't read a Saunders story in awhile. Not sure why. I picked up a 2016 Random House paperback reissue of "CivilWarLand in Bad Decline" at my local bookstore. I read the title story and beheld intimations of what would appear in "Bardo." We meet the "ghostly McKinnon family" who occupied the CivilWarLand site back during the Civil War. They met a bad end at the hands of Mr. McKinnon, who was never the same after the Battle of Antietam. The daughter, Maribeth, is "a homely sincere girl who glides around moaning and pining and reading bad poetry chapbooks. Whenever we keep the Park open late for high-school parties, she's in her glory." Maribeth is more real than the narrator's two bratty sons. Saunders makes the real absurd and the absurd real. As Joshua Ferris notes in the intro, it's the latter skill "is a much harder trick to pull off" but it moves Saunders from the pigeonhole of satirist and "into the open air of the first-rate artist."

In "Lincoln in the Bardo," Saunders skill as a writer helps us see that the human tragedy is also the human comedy. Maybe that's a bardo, too, the gap between tragedy and comedy.

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.

Strong mind, strong body -- take your pick

Just added to my reading list: "Blue Dreams: The science and the story of the drugs that changed our minds" by Lauren Slater. I will tackle it once I finish "Lincoln in the Bardo" by George Saunders.

"Blue Dreams" is a non-fiction account of psychiatric drugs and their effects by someone who is both a patient and a psychologist.

"Lincoln in the Bardo" is a novel that explores something that seems a lot like severe depression and PTSD in Abraham Lincoln, who is mourning the death of his 11-year-old son, Willie, in 1862.

Would Lincoln have benefited from a regimen of Prozac or other SSRIs? Perhaps. Maybe he would have recovered from his dark moods more quickly with a couple hits of Molly or LSD.

We'll never know. But psychedlics figure into Slater's book. Party drug MDMA (Molly) has been tested on those with PTSD. It has shown some remarkable and lasting results. As Slater recently described it on NPR's "Fresh Air:" those who take Molly and relive their trauma are able to shift that experience into another section of the brain, possibly the prefrontal cortex, helping remove it from the "fight or flight" amygdala. They can then get a handle on a horrible memory without degenerating into bouts of anxiety or self-harm, even suicide.

Slater wonders if this experimentation may lead to another golden age of drug therapy. The previous golden age brought on by lithium and Prozac may be nearing its end. Slater testifies that medications have helped her stay sane, raise a family and write books. They also have shortened her life.

That's the trade-off. So goes the old witticism: "Sound mind. Sound body. Take your pick." After five stays in psychiatric facilities between the ages of 13 to 24, Slater's doctors discovered Prozac. In a rush of Seratonin-laced good will, she finsihed finished her education, married, had two children and embarked on a writing career.

Then came trouble, in the form of the return of depression  and the start of her use of Zyprexa, which caused her to gain weight and lose her libido.

We patients are guinea pigs. Researcher still don't know the inner workings of these drugs. And their long-term effects. If you are in the midst of a severe depression, you want immediate help. Doesn't happen. Prozac or Zoloft may alleviate the symptoms eventually. Studies have shown that two-thirds  of those with depression would recover just as well with a placebo. That's depressing enough. Add side-effects into the mix and you have to wonder what in the hell we are doing.

I have been taking antidepressants for almost 30 years. I feel better, go off them, and crash. One of my psychiatrists once lectured me: "You have to stay on these the rest of your life. You have depression."

That made an impression. Unfortunately, I don't always listen. I went off my Zoloft six years ago and the walls came crashing down. I was out of work for a month. My psychiatrist at the time, who fled Wyoming for Hawaii one winter and never came back, tried a return to Zoloft and then several other meds. We finally went back to Prozac with a nighttime dose of Remeron. Several months later, I felt better but also was back exercising on a regular basis and eating right, which helped. Also, I was in talk therapy with a therapist and regularly saw my psychiatrist. Still, that summer I was still experiencing bouts of depression interspersed with anxiety. It probably took a good six months for my moods to stabilize.

Six months later, on Jan. 2, 2013, I had a heart attack. I recovered quicker from a "widow maker" than I did from depression. Got more help, too. Add an inept mental health care system to the fact that the docs know so little about the drugs and the human mind. That makes for a killer cocktail of ignorance. At least I have both Medicare and private insurance which enables me to navigate the system without going broke.

But I am not only here to complain. I am here to critique books. "Lincoln in the Bardo" is a wild ride and I'm only on page 98. This is how an award-winning short story writer writes a novel. Truly unique. I am a short story writer working on a novel. I find encouragement in Saunders work.

I have ordered Slater's book. I, too, would like to know what happens with long-term use of these drugs. My life depends on it.

Drama nerds and debaters seize the day after Florida school shooting

It seems that arts education can be a wonderful asset in standing up to bullies.

That was on display last week at the CNN town hall meeting on gun violence. Young people from Margory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Fla., schooled Sen. Marco Rubio and an NRA flack on just about everything. No surprise that the students had honed their skills by participating in the school's drama club and speech and debate programs.

Memorizing lines and defending your views in front of a crowd can give you the confidence to take on a U.S. senator and the NRA. I encourage these students to continue the fight. Their #NeverAgain movement is sponsoring March for Our Lives march on Washington on March 24. Allied marches will be help around the world. Some are being planned for Wyoming. I will keep you posted on these pages. Several high-rolling liberals have donated to the cause. The rest of us can donate by going to https://www.gofundme.com/8psm8-march-for-our-lives . As of noon Sunday, the campaign has raised $2.5 million of the $2.8 million goal.

Further reading on the topic:

Emily Witt wrote this Feb. 19 New Yorker piece on how three drama club nerds sparked the #NeverAgain movement: https://www.newyorker.com/news/news-desk/how-the-survivors-of-parkland-began-the-never-again-movement

New Yorker article on Feb. 23 about high school protester Cameron Kasky and his "Spring Awakening" at https://www.newyorker.com/culture/cultural-comment/the-spring-awakening-of-the-stoneman-douglas-theatre-kids

The high school's drama club wrote and performed an original song for the CNN-sponsored town hall session Feb. 21. Get more here: http://womenyoushouldknow.net/marjory-stoneman-douglas-powerful-shine-song/

Here are some of the song's lyrics:

But you're not gonna knock us down
We'll get back up again

No more Mr. Nice Guy

Our young people feel betrayed.

Youngsters are getting murdered at a sickening rate. After the Florida high school attack, survivors are angry. They are speaking out, staging sit-ins and planning protest marches. 

Their elders have abandoned them. As one of those elders, I am ashamed of my country. And I see myself as one of the good guys. I've worked for decades to derail the nefarious plans of crackpot right-wingers. I have allies in the fight. Fellow travelers, in the terminology of the Red Scare 1950s. In a small place such as Wyoming, we tend to know one another. Right now, we have our eyes on a state legislature dominated by wingnuts. I would say wingnuts from the hinterlands, but some of the worst ones are from the state's most populated county -- Laramie. My county. 

Sad to say, being a good guy is not enough. 

The children can teach us. Today, 100 teens from Parkland, Fla., got on a bus and took their pleas to their legislators in Tallahassee. We send them our thoughts and prayers. Scratch that. Thoughts and prayers have already been tried. I send my anger with them. They will confront a building filled with earnest faces.  Good guys -- mostly guys. They are involved in their churches, love their wives and children, are kind to animals, and care for the state of the nation.

Sad to say, being a good guy is no excuse.

To paraphrase Jesus: "You will know them by their actions." Matthew 7:20: "...by their fruits you shall recognize them." These legislators, many of them from rural America, are good Christians and read the Bible. Perhaps they neglected this section of Matthew. To use another phrase, "actions speak louder than words." What are their actions? They rail against immigrants. They demonize their LGBTQ neighbors. They cut food and medical benefits for those who need it most. They hatch plans to stop blacks and Hispanics from voting. They cut funds to education. They give carte blanche to gun dealers. 

You know them by their actions. So why do you keep voting for them? I ask these questions of Wyomingites, too. Florida may be in the news but we are seeing some ridiculous behavior in our own reps. In Wyoming, we are looking at a bill to allow conceal and carry in churches. Really? Have these people no sense of right and wrong? Didn't they get their butts paddled if they lied and cheated and bore false witness against their neighbors? Didn't they get Atticus Finch or Andy of Mayberry-style lectures when they broke the rules? They show no evidence of this. Apparently, you can't trust the words of good guys.

Our children and grandchildren now show us the way. I am not going to rain on their parade. Tread carefully, I could say. Be patient. After all, the world won't change with one fit of outrage, one speech, one march. But they will have to discover these hard facts as they work for change. 

As many aging activists will tell you, the struggle for black civil rights took hundreds of years. Women's Movement veterans can tell you the same thing. The struggle for gay rights didn't begin with Stonewall. Environmentalists have been publicly advocating for change since the first Earth Day in 1970.  But those battles have been going on a lot longer as people discovered that their fate is tied to that of the planet. 

This is beginning to sound like a graduation speech. I apologize. Aging good guys see themselves as founts of wisdom even though they may be just tired and afraid. I advise you -- wear sunscreen and don't take any wooden nickels.  

And don't let the good guys get in your way. 

Dear President Trump: Please don't put mental health care on your radar screen

The most distressing news to come out of the Parkland, Fla., high school massacre is that President Trump is now going to pay attention to mental health.

We have seen what happens to issues when Trump starts paying attention to them. His "concern" about our immigration laws have led to families being ripped apart by ICE and the Dreamers dreams to be abandoned.

And then there is the ridiculous border wall.

He and his Congressional cronies addressed the economy by passing the TaxScam bill that turns the economy over to the billionaire class.

Healthcare? He wants drastic cuts in Medicare and Medicaid, the country's two largest health care programs.

SNAP or food stamps? Replace the SNAP system with a plan to send food boxes to those on the program. I would say those "poor people" on the program, but I know better. Our family used food stamps on an interim basis when I was underemployed and we had four mouths to feed on a salary for two. My disabled daughter is now in the SNAP program. SNAP feeds people. I hesitate to guess what kind of Republican-approved edibles would show up in a Trump Food Box.

Education? I have one name for you: Betsy DeVos. She is our so-called secretary of education who wants to privatize our prized public school system and to turn college students into paupers. Trump's base hates the educated class because we insist on using facts in our political arguments.

Now mental health. I have written about the mental health system numerous times. I am not a mental health professional. But my daughter has been in the system for 11 years and I can speak with some authority of her experience -- and ours.

My daughter Annie has been diagnosed as bipolar and has borderline personality disorder. Over the years, our family has sought treatment for Annie in many programs in five states. Why so many? First, she was unable to get the care she needed in Wyoming which, to federal granting programs, is considered a pioneer state, as if we were still rolling across the prairie wagons or handcarts. We are fortunate to live in the state's capital city and have used the services of good therapists and psychiatrists, some in private practice and some who work with Peak Wellness. As a minor, we had some say in the places she was sent for treatment, some of those in Colorado and California. When she turned 18, she made some of those choices, not all of them good. Some were excellent, as was New Roads Treatment Center out of Salt Lake City. Her caregivers in 2018 are at Summit Stone in Fort Collins, Colo. Colorado has a leader and mental health advocate in Gov,. John Hickenlooper.

One of the strengths and weaknesses of the United States is that every state sets its own agenda. Colorado has a Democratic governor and mostly progressive legislature. Wyoming has a Republican governor and a Know Nothing Republican legislature. Guess which state takes better care of its mentally ill?

Just take a look at some of the crackpot bills that are on the agenda for this year's Wyoming Legislature.

Please, I beg you President Trump, don't pay attention to mental health care. It has enough problems without you.

Remind your legislators that the arts and humanities make Wyoming great

I won't be attending the Governor's Arts Awards Gala tonight in Cheyenne. Not because I don't think it's important -- it is. I'm taking a year off. As a Wyoming Arts Council staffer, I helped put on the event for 20-some years. Now I'm retired, and filling my time with my own artistic pursuits. 

What is the Governor's Arts Awards? Every summer, the WAC opens nominations for individuals, organizations, patrons, and businesses who have helped make the arts a major player in this state. The WAC board chooses some worthy honorees and those are sent over to the Governor who makes the final decisions. This year's honorees are ART 321/Casper Artists' Guild, Susan Moldenhauer of Laramie, Leslie O'Hashi of Cheyenne, and Dr. Patrick Patton of Casper College. I have worked with them all. A deserving group. They will be feted Feb. 9 and receive a huge framed plaque.

We all talk about downtown redevelopment. The Casper Artists' Guild takes it seriously. The group has been around for decades, much of the time in its old location near downtown. When an old Yellowstone District warehouse came up for sale, the guild's Holly Turner and cohorts raised funds to take over half of the building. It's now Art 321 (for its address) and is a great gallery and workshop space for Casper artists. Stop in the next time you're in Casper. View the art. Check out the gift shop. Have lunch in the funky neighboring bistros, such as Racca's Pizzeria Napoletana. Art 321 is just down the street from the new David Street Station where I took in a few concerts during last summer's eclipse festival. A cosmic event brought people to Casper last summer. The arts made it come alive.

Art organizations and businesses often serve as catalysts for further development. That, alone, does not deserve a Governor's Arts Award. But it does demonstrate the importance of the arts. The arts are a necessity and not a luxury if you want a well-rounded populace. That's the key question: what kind of state do you want? Wyoming features lots of outdoors but, as the saying goes, you can't eat the scenery. But you can eat by painting or writing about or singing songs about the scenery. Our open spaces inspire artists in all fields. That takes the form of a a bronze sculpture of running pronghorn by Guadalupe Barajas or a surreal photo of a windy day on the prairie by Moldenhauer, one of this year's honorees. Tim Sandlin, one of last year's honorees, is inspired by both the landscape and the foibles of the people of Teton County. Dr. Patton and his wife Marcia, the first couple to receive the UW Arts and Sciences Outstanding Alumni Award, bring help students in Casper find their voices. O'Hashi teaches her students how to express themselves through movement.

I could go on and on but I won't. Read about the Arts Council at its web site. Check out past issues of its magazine, Wyoming Artscapes, too. In it, you will find scores of examples of the contributions of artists and arts orgs to this state.

When the legislature convenes next week, remind your rep and senator how important the arts are to your family and your state. They need reminders as they face a budget shortfall and atrocious bills that should never see the light of day. Tell them that all people are important, that they find their value through the arts and humanities.

I will write about the legislature's upcoming sessions. There are sure to be some legislative humdingers; there already are. To check out proposed legislation, go here  

It takes funding to make the arts thrive. It is more important that ever to make our politicians accountable. The past year in this country has been a lesson on getting involved and staying involved in the political process. And what happens when you don't.

The Birth of a Nation Feb. 17 at LCCC in Cheyenne

I first saw "Birth of a Nation" in a college film class 43 years ago. I had some electives to burn in my pursuit of a degree in English. The prof showed us "The Great Train Robbery," the first American Western film in 1903. It may have been based on Butch Cassidy's famous Wyoming train robbery. But did they film it in Wyoming? No -- New Jersey.

In the film class, we moved on to D.W. Griffith's "The Birth of a Nation" or, as it was originally titled, "The Clansman." You can see the entire film on YouTube. Or you can see it in Cheyenne at 9 a.m.on Saturday, Feb. 17, at LCCC as part of the African-American Black Film Exposition Feb. 14-17. It's a long film -- more than three hours -- but worth the viewing. It's one director's view of race relations. Griffith was a Southerner, steeped in myth and ritual and prejudice. His movie doesn't only reflect his views but those of many Americans at the time -- and now.

1915 is 103 years ago. My grandparents were young adults. My parents were ten years away from birth. It would be 35 years before I arrived on the scene. Racism was a fact of life when I was a kid in the West and South. Racism still is alive and well in the U.S. I wish it weren't so but it is.

"Birth of a Nation" was a big hit at theaters. Promoter for the film was George Bowles, the PR whiz who worked with the Committee on Public Information to make its film, "Pershing's Crusaders." a hit in May 1918.  The CPI was just hitting its stride on disseminating propaganda when the armistice was declared. But it would also be used to stir up the threat against Bolshevism after the war.

A CPI propaganda illustration sent out during the war:. The U.S. was thinking ahead to the fight against Bolsheviks. Note the foreign-looking commie.  

Black History Month takes on special significance in 2018

Black History Month holds special meaning to me this year.

I am reading up on black history during World War I and immediately thereafter. It's mainly research for a novel, but it's also a fascinating time, a tumultuous time. Black soldiers helped win the war.. Black southerners migrated to the north for defense jobs. Ragtime and jazz flowered. Traditionally black colleges and universities were thriving. Returning soldiers were less likely to suffer the prejudicial attitudes of whites, only one reason that the summer after the war is called Bloody 1919 or Red Summer. There was other bad news: the KKK was on the rise from Stone Mountain, Georgia, to the Rockies of Colorado.

As far as the big picture, nationwide prohibition began in 1920 and women got the vote. Blacks faced Jim Crow laws in the South, a big factor in suppressing their vote, a trend that Republicans continue today. .

There was no integrated army in 1917. Black troops volunteered and many were drafted. They served in all-black units, often commanded by white officers. The troops proved their mettle under fire. But, in the beginning, Pershing's generals wanted them to serve only as labor troops. This prejudicial attitude was evident in a memo sent out in 1917 titled "Secret Information Concerning Black Troops," written by Colonel Louis Linard, Pershing's liaison offer to the French ministry. Here's a sample:

"The American attitude upon the Negro question may seem a matter of discussion to many French minds. But we French are not in our province if we undertake to discuss what some call "prejudice." American opinion is unanimous on the "color question" and does not admit of any discussion."

As Andrew Carroll writes in "My Fellow Soldiers," this was "blatantly false; millions of white Americans were sympathetic to the plight of blacks in the United States." But that didn't get in the way of the memo writer. He warned French officers not to treat African-American soldiers "with familiarity and indulgence." The French, it seems, saw African-Americans as Americans and not a separate breed. Back to the memo:

"...the black American is regarded by the white American as an inferior being with whom relations of business or service only are possible. The black is constantly being censured for his want of intelligence and discretion, his lack of civic and professional conscience, and for his tendency toward undue familiarity."

The odious memo was circulated to the French officer corps. They ordered copies collected and burned. They already had witnessed the bravery of black American troops under fire. In fact, the French had several units of black troops woven into their army. When the beleaguered French asked for help, Pershing assigned black units to the front. He was adamant in keeping white troops under American command. He wasn't so selective with his black troops.

To learn more, read Carroll's excellent book, notably the chapter "Black Jack and the Hellfighters." If you're partial to graphic novels, I recommend the excellent "The Harlem Hellfighters" by Max Brooks with illustrations by Canaan White. Brooks is the author of "World War Z" and "The Zombie Survival Guide." White illustrates the World War II comics series "Uber." The Hellfighters was the name the Germans hung on the 369th Infantry Regiment from New York. According to the book jacket copy:

"They had spent more time in combat than any other American unit, never losing a foot of ground to the enemy, or a man to capture, and winning countless decorations."

Not only that. The unit's ragtime and jazz band, led by James Reece Europe, was borrowed by many white units, and wowed the French with le jazz hot. After facing the usual racism at home, scores of African-American soldiers returned to France to settle and to ignite the Roaring '20s music scene in Paris. .

While we have many examples of books and movies featuring African-American troops in World War II and after (watch the Oscar-nominated "Mudbound" on Netflix), books about black soldiers in World War I are just hitting the shelves. Stay tuned for a six-hour Harlem Hellfighters History Channel series later this year.

Just a few examples of how much we have to learn about U.S. history. Read! The truth is out there!

Learning about Robert Burns and how plans gang aft agley

From the Poetry Foundation essay on Scottish poet Robert Burns:

Burns was identified as odd because he always carried a book. A countrywoman in Dunscore, who had seen Burns riding slowly among the hills reading, once remarked, "That's surely no a good man, for he has aye a book in his hand!" The woman no doubt assumed an oral norm, the medium of traditional culture.

Burns was an oddball for reading books at a time when the oral tradition was alive and well. He served as a bridge to the lake poets of the Romantic tradition, poets such as Wordsworth who "wandered lonely as a cloud" among the British Isles' natural wonders. He wrote his poems in the Scottish dialect which, in the late 18th century, was being supplanted by English. That's how many of us know Burns' poetry, through recitations of the original verse at Burns' suppers or at Celtic festivals. Some oft-used expressions in 2018 can be traced to Burns. Here is a stanza from the original "Address to a Haggis:"

Then, horn for horn, they stretch and strive:
Deil take the hindmost, on they drive
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
The auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
'Bethankkit' hums.

You see terms such as "devil take the hindmost" in modern parlance. And what about this one from "To a Mouse:"

But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane, 

In proving foresight may be vain: 

The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men 

          Gang aft agley, 

An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain, 

          For promis’d joy! 

You could say that "the best-laid schemes of mice and men often go awry." At least one American author made a career out of that line. You see it applied to everything from politicking to warmaking. Those who want to be cute or Celtic even use the phrase "gang aft agley" to show off their English major roots. Kind of like Burns walking around rural Scotland with book in hand.

I read up on Burns because I volunteered to read "Address to a Haggis" at a Burns supper.  I have a reputation as a good public speaker. I have served as emcee of public events because I speak loudly and enunciate clearly. I read, too, so my name comes up when poetry needs reading or reciting.

Burns wrote poems and songs, a lot of them, in his short 37 years. Politically he was outspoken, which didn't endear him to his English overlords or Scottish royalists. But salt-of-the-earth Scots loved him and still do. Burns suppers started five years after the author's death in 1796. They are alive and well in 2018 Wyoming. The event speaks to that thing that all of us miss in our lives, a sense of tradition, of ritual. The other day my daughter said that she wished she was Native American with all of its traditions. I told her that her own people have traditions. They gave up most of them when they moved to the U.S. due to starvation and political persecution. I challenged her to discover those Irish and Scottish and English traditions. We didn't just accidentally stumble into a wearin' o the green and step-dancing and getting blotto on March 17. 

Travel can broaden your cultural horizons. So can reading, which is less expensive, especially if you believe in that great American tradition of free public libraries. We can credit a robber baron Scotsman named Andrew Carnegie for really getting the library ball rolling. Carnegie background: 

I owe everything to the Irish and Scots who came to the U.S. I owe a lot to those who laid the groundwork for the diaspora but never left, such as Burns. Cheyenne erected a statue to the poet. It's a big statue, located in a pocket park an easy walk from my old Kendrick Building work place. I carried my lunch and a book. I read while eating ham sandwiches and chips. I never read any Burn poetry during these quiet sojourns. I knew nothing about Burns and thought my life would be perfectly fine without Burns poetry. He seemed a quaint figure in literature. Poetry recited by old guys in kilts but not a poet studied seriously in the academy. He belonged to an ancient world that existed before modernism, before global warfare and science and radical politics stuck a knife in the rhymed couplet.

But just for a moment, let's think about the lad who wandered the glens with book in hand. His own Scottish dialect preceded his love of books and that's the path he chose. He was the voice of the Scots at a time when that voice was being stamped out.  He wrote songs. He composed bawdy poems. Regular folks, even that countrywoman in Dunscore, knew his lines by heart. Many still do.
Pause a moment and consider one of Burns most famous lines referenced above:

The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men 

          Gang aft agley, 

These lines sum up the current political situation in the U.S. I may start using the phrase in daily discourse. Despite owning a golf course in Scotland, I doubt that the president has read any work by the Scottish national poet. We also know that a countrywoman in Turnberry will never spot Trump with a book in hand. He doesn't read. He doesn't know history. Recite Burns' lines to him and watch the blank look on his face. "Gang aft agley" could be his motto. Alas, if only his scheme for taking over the presidency had gone awry. We're stuck with him now. 

Is there really such a thing as "compassionate conservatism" in the U.S.?

I am pleased with any response I get from my missives to the all-Republican Wyoming Congressional delegation. Not pleased so much as satisfied. Not really satisfied, gratified, or placated. I suppose that the best I can do is "pleased" when Enzi, Barrasso, and Cheney send me more material for my blog. Thanks!

A few weeks ago, I e-mailed my two senators and one rep complaining about Trump's "shithole" comments concerning Haiti and African countries. I asked them to disavow those comments, preferably in public. They did not. However, Enzi does note that he does "not support every remark any president has made, including President Trump.." That's something, I  guess.

The reality is that Republicans were very outspoken for eight years in criticizing Pres. Barack Obama. Now they are silent when Trump says outrageous things. Enzi helped draft the Republican tax scam policy. Barrasso is Mitch McConnelll's BFF. Liz Cheney wants to give away Wyoming's public lands and shoot all of the grizzlies. They are off their rockers.

I present Sen. Enzi's e-mail:

Dear Michael:
Congress should ensure that our immigration laws are compassionate, but also fair to American citizens. I believe all people and nations should be treated with respect. I do not believe that anyone should be bullied, intimidated or attacked because of their beliefs. I do not support every remark any president has made, including President Trump. I will let President Trump or his team answer questions about the president’s comments. Words can be powerful and we should do our best to be civil to each other. I hope for a serious debate about border security and immigration as we continue to work on this issue in Congress.

Sincerely,
Michael B. Enzi
United States Senator

How do you like that line about "compassionate" immigration laws? "GOP" and "compassionate" are very seldom linked. Why? Just take a look at the legislation that conservatives promote. Another question. Has Enzi made any statements about the immigration prison set to be built in southwest Wyoming near Evanston? I will look it up and get back to you.

I wonder if I've learned anything after fifty years on the barricades

This clever sign was sighted at the Wyoming Women's March in Cheyenne. The times they are a changin', but maybe not so much.

At the Wyoming Women's March Saturday in Cheyenne, i was a last-minute recruit for the security detail. To that point, my role had been membership in the food committee. I am a cook and  gardener so naturally gravitate toward the culinary part part of any event. I have cooked quiches, casseroles, and desserts for Democratic Party fund-raisers. I've been grill cook for non-profit fund-raisers, notably Wyoming UPLIFT. I've cooked my No Added Salt NASty Man Chili, for the first women's march on Inauguration Day.

Food is one of my favorite things. But yesterday, I was drafted into the all-male security corps. We were coached by Wendy Soto and an officer of the Cheyenne PD. And then we walked down Capitol Avenue to take spots at intersections. Our job was the prevent traffic colliding with the marchers. For that, the flashing lights and sirens of police cars helped immensely. I was at a busy one-way intersection. In front of me was a police cruiser. Behind me, a pick-up truck idled among the cars. I turned around to look at the stalled traffic. Nobody looked happy. Then again, none were flipping me off.  It was a typical Wyoming scene. Me in my arctic coat, wool cap and gloves. Polite Wyomingites waiting for a bunch of radicals to walk by. Nobody running anyone down, as happened in Charlottesville. Nice motorists who, in 2016, voted for Trump and right-wing state legislators who want to send immigrants back to Mexico and liberals back to Colorado. These regressive folks are in the majority here. They can make this place scary for liberals.

But on this day, the activists outnumbered the Know Nothings. I knew that security had become an issue with an online threat against the march. Our security chief, Gaylan Wright, was home sick. So we had to step up. All of us held the threat in our heads as we stood protecting our brothers and sisters from the anger that usually lurks just beneath the surface.

I am a veteran of protests going back to the Vietnam War. Back then, I was just a youngster, 19 and 20, confused about my role in the world. My confused pals, angry about the Kent State Massacre and the Cambodian bombings and the draft, had turned out for the protests equipped with gas masks we'd bought earlier that day at the Columbia, S.C., army surplus store. When the tear gas flew, we were going to be prepared, as the Scouts had taught us to be. We were good Scouts but lousy protesters. Thing is, I could have been at the Navy ROTC ball with a cute Southern girl instead of out on the streets. I was a good Scout but a lousy midshipman.

As we awaited the arrival of the South Carolina Highway Patrol riot squad, all as big as a Gamecocks' lineman, my buddy Pat cut off half of a finger throwing back a broken bottle which had come out of nowhere. Pat was in shock, bleeding profusely, searching the ground for his half-finger. Me and a guy who said he'd been a medic in Nam, helped Pat inside with a promise we would find the finger. The medic staunched the bleeding but said we had to get Pat to the ER. Meanwhile, the troopers had arrived in force, surrounded by a hailstorm of tear gas, and proceeded to bludgeon the protesters. I now was glad I'd gone inside. At some point, I agreed to find someone to help Pat. I found a sympathetic National Guardsman who looked young enough to be my freshman room,mate, and he agreed to get an ambulance on the scene.

He did. I was one of the stretcher-bearers who took Pat outsider to the ambulance. The photographer from the Columbia paper caught us as we hefted Pat into the ambulance. The photo was in the morning paper. Luckily, I was just shown from the back and not identified. The Marine colonel who commanded our ROTC unit would not have been pleased. But I clipped the photo from the paper and gladly showed it around to my dorm chums.

What did I do the rest of that dark night? First, I tried to get back to my dorm. I snuck outside and was prepared to dash across the busy street, when a Guardsman stopped me. Uh oh. He just cautioned me to get inside since the troopers were beating up anybody who looked like a protester. I thanked him and ducked into the Pika House, where Pat's brother Mike was one of the members. He needed to know about  Pat. I located him and gave him the news. He told me to stay here for the night while he tried to track down his brother. I nodded off at some point but got up early to go back to my dorm. As I walked the street near Campus, I was shocked to see that all of the detritus from the previous night -- tear gas canisters, broken bottles. gas masks -- had been swept away. The morning air was filled with the spring scents of  honeysuckles and lilacs. All was right with the world. But where was Pat's finger?

I went from the USC campus to the mass demonstration in Washington, D.C. I was an onlooker, caught up in the rush of events. I didn't really know what I was doing but I was in some fine company. Jane Fonda spoke. Lots of speeches. Richard Nixon journeyed out of the White House for an early-morning rap session with protestors who. like Nixon, had been awake all night. I just missed Tricky Dick, as I was on the other side of the monument, mellowing out after a night on acid. There was a concert, if I remember correctly. 

I was back in D.C. in July, hitchhiking from Norfolk with my ROTC cruise-mate Paul from Notre Dame. On Honor America Day at the National Mall, cops tear-gassed the Yippie Smoke-in at Washington Monument and the gas seeped down into the crowd of My Fellow Americans who just wanted to see the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and listen to Bob Hope's jokes. And see the bitchin' fireworks.

You would think that all that would have cured me of activism. But it did not. A cloud of tear gas would put a hurting on this 67-year-old cardiac patient. Yes, I am a bearded 6-foot-2 security guy in a day-glo vest who couldn't withstand a bit of tear gas or a raging Trumpist. But the point is -- I keep showing up. Not only for me but for my wife and children. The cameraderie of a march helps soothe the sting of Trumpism. It may make a difference and it may not. But I am here. I am. A Man. Who supports equal rights.

Donald Trump's Know-Nothing attitude would have doomed my Famine Irish ancestors

A Thomas Nast cartoon in Harper's Weekly depicts ape-like Irishmen beating up police on St. Patrick's Day 1867.  

Great read from a 1/10/18 article on Irish Central by Cahir O'Doherty: "President Donald Trump would have turned away the Famine Irish just like the Salvadorans."  Go to https://www.irishcentral.com/opinion/cahirodoherty/donald-trump-famine-irish-el-salvador

I don't know much about my great-great grandfather Thomas Shay.

He was Irish, as you might deduce from his last name, born in County Clare.

He left Ireland in the late 1840s (probably 1848) bound for the U.S.

He married Anna Agnes Burns and had three children when they were recorded in the 1850 census as residents of Monroe County, N.Y. By the 1870 census, the Shay family had moved to Iowa and eight children were listed on the rolls.

Thomas died in 1879 and is buried in Johnson County, Iowa.

His first name is my late father's first name and my middle name

My late Aunt Patricia researched these details before the wide use of the Internet and the advent of ancestry.com. She printed out a family tree on a dot-matrix printer. She put the evidence into a memory book for my daughter, born in 1993.

That's what I know. I also have read about anti-Irish sentiment in the mid-19th century. White people feared non-white people, although they were willing to use them as slaves and indentured servants. Strange to think that Irish immigrants were depicted in American papers as unwashed, uncouth bumpkins, or as monkeys and apes. They were Catholic, too, as were their swarthy cousins from Spain, Italy, and Mexico. You know, "Shithole" countries as Trumpists say.

The Know Nothings live. They were out in force last fall in Charlottesville, them and  their vile attitudes and precious tiki torches. They are descendants of the anti-Irish Know Nothings, although I would guess that some of them have Irish or Scots-Irish bloodlines. Scary to think how many Trumpists have Irish surnames. They do not know their history, and they don't care to learn.

Trump's policies may have doomed my Irish ancestors. But who knows -- maybe the Irish Shays would have survived in Ireland and my DNA would have never taken the pathways that eventually led to me. The Shay line would not be in its seventh generation of causing trouble in the U.S.

Immigration can sure be a random thing. You never know where curtailing it or encouraging it will lead. Sometimes you get a Barack Obama.

And sometimes you get a Donald Trump.

A cartoon from the 1850s by the "Know-Nothings" accusing the Irish and German immigrants of negatively affecting an election. From Victoriana Magazine.

Partners in protest -- male writers support Wyoming Women's March organizers

My wife, Chris Shay, shows off her Women's March T-shirt.

I just finished reading thoughtful columns by two male residents of Wyoming -- one a blogger and one a columnist for the Wyofile online newspaper..

Both columns are excellent and I encourage you to read them. Go here:

Cowgirl up: It's time for a  broader perspective in politics, by Kerry Drake, Wyofile

Time to go to the streets, by Rodger McDaniel, Blowing in the Wyoming Wind blog

Both columnists invite their readers to attend the Wyoming Women's March in Cheyenne on Jan. 20. I did the same thing in blog posts here and here. We are the men behind the women who are organizing this event. Partners in protest.

A crew of women is organizing the Cheyenne march. I won't name them here because I might forget a crucial member. It takes a lot of work to stage a protest. Permits, security, speakers, equipment, food. The committee has been meeting weekly and this Sunday is our final tune-up before next weekend's march. If you're interested, the committee meets at 1 p.m. on Jan. 14, at 1 p.m., in the Laramie County Public Library's first-floor Willow Room.

Thus far, I can tell you these details. Marchers will assemble at 10 a.m. on the Depot Plaza downtown. Then we -- and our creative signs -- march to the deconstructed Capitol and march back again. Speakers will speak. We then convene for food inside the Depot. The event should wrap up by 1 p.m.

The theme for the march is Women's March Wyoming -- Hear Our Vote! It encourages women to register to vote, vote, and run for office. Why is this important? Trumpist Republican men from mostly rural areas of the state are making laws for all of us. Women are not in the legislature. Women are usually not heard in committee meetings. That leads to the absurdity of the Agriculture Committee holding hearings on two restrictive abortion laws. Drake writes about this in his Wyofile column. We all should be asking why. And then we should go out and vote for those who would better represent our needs for the 21st century.

See you at the Depot on Jan. 20.

The sordid tale of the proposed Wyoming private prison for immigrants

It's not a prison, says the people building a prison for immigrants in southwest Wyoming's Uinta County.

And so says Gov. Mead's office. As related in a Dec. 20 Wyofile story by Andrew Graham:

Gov. Matt Mead’s spokesman said a federal immigration jail proposed for Uinta County does not count as a private prison under Wyoming statute and doesn’t require the Governor’s approval to be constructed. 

The jail is proposed by a private-prison company, Management Training Corporation, to hold increasing numbers of people arrested by U.S.  Immigrations and Customs Enforcement. As of October, county officials said they remained uncertain whether the proposal would require the approval of Wyoming’s five state elected officials, as state law requires for private prison contracts with local governments. A spokesperson for Mead told WyoFile at the time that the governor was unaware of the proposal.

Opposition to this non-jail jail is building. #WyoSayNo is holding an info session on the issue on Saturday, Jan. 13, 5:30-7 p.m. at the Laramie County Public Library in Cheyenne. Get more info at https://www.facebook.com/events/146261459427770/. If you live far afield from Cheyenne, you can sign up for a 6 p.m. livestream at https://actionnetwork.org/event_campaigns/wyosayno-campaign-launch-satellite-event-signup

This is just another sign of the cruelty practiced by Trumpists. Jailing hard-working people, Separating families. ICE raids at the workplace. Make tons of money for private prison stakeholders in the process.

Trumpists have no shame.

First comes the reading and then the literary tourism

I start each weekday watching the network news. Not sure why. Goes good with oatmeal, I guess.

I usually watch until Trump's smarmy face appears. It doesn't take long. I then switch around the the Weather Channel or Turner Classic Movies. Today I clicked on TCM just to see the middle part of "The Adventures of Mark Twain," a 1944 film starring Frederic March as Twain. I was shocked to learn that Twain ran a publishing company or, rather, he hired his nephew, Charles Webster, to run the company and named it after him. Two early successes were "Huckleberry Finn" and "The Memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant," Parts I and 2.  I read Huck Finn. I have poked around in my 1885 copy of U.S. Grant, long enough to know it is not just a pretty good presidential memoir but a pretty good book. I wonder if Twain played a part in that? I will probably read the trade paperback copy as the old hardback is falling apart. Too bad I got to it so late -- it's probably worth something in pristine condition.

Twain's press folded in 1894, after publishing several Twain books and two volumes by some Russian guy, Leo Tolstoy. Twain had hoped to get rich off of other authors' works. Instead, he owed creditors more than $200,000, which adds up to millions in today's dollars. Instead of making a deal with them, he embarked on a world speaking tour to every continent. He made enough to pay off his debts. Meanwhile, his wife died. Twain's death coincided with the year that Halley's Comet returned. But I already knew that from the Wonderful World of Disney version of Twain's life.

Seems as if Twain is the gift that keeps on giving.

He may be the most notable American author of the 19th century. We continue to read him. His books, mainly Huck Finn, continue to be banned by school districts upset with the casual use of the N word, realistic depictions of slavery, and youngsters defying their elders.

I am a Twain fan. I have seen Hal Holbrook's stage presentation of "Mark Twain Tonight." The author was quotable, that's for sure, and Holbrook does a great job with the part.

I am a bit miffed at his participation in the "Gilded Age" with Rockefeller and Carnegie et. al. His youthful goal was thee be rich, not to be a notable man of letters. He reached that goal several times but keep losing it on other dubious get-rich-quick schemes.

He wrote some great novels and some scathing literary criticism. I dare you to read "Fenimore Cooper's Literary Offenses" and not laugh. Anyone who has read any of Cooper's convoluted "Deerslayer" tales should enjoy the humor. Here's a sample from the piece:

There are nineteen rules governing literary art in domain of romantic fiction -- some say twenty-two. In "Deerslayer," Cooper violated eighteen of them. These eighteen require: 

1. That a tale shall accomplish something and arrive somewhere. But the "Deerslayer" tale accomplishes nothing and arrives in air. 

2. They require that the episodes in a tale shall be necessary parts of the tale, and shall help to develop it. But as the "Deerslayer" tale is not a tale, and accomplishes nothing and arrives nowhere, the episodes have no rightful place in the work, since there was nothing for them to develop. 

3. They require that the personages in a tale shall be alive, except in the case of corpses, and that always the reader shall be able to tell the corpses from the others. But this detail has often been overlooked in the "Deerslayer" tale.

Remember that this was way before bloggers invented snark.

If we are looking for purists among our literary practitioners, well, the boat has already sailed on that one (not the one that Hart Crane jumped from). Hemingway was a misogynist, Fitzgerald a drunk. Flannery O'Connor couldn't stop talking about those scary creatures she invented to frighten us out of our lethargy. In this New Gilded Age, we want some literary heroes, or at least cool  hometowns to play tourist in, such as Cather's Red Cloud or Hurston's Eatonville. And Twain's house in Hartford.

As a literary tourist, I have seen most of these sights. They are interesting. But you can't really get to the heart of Hemingway's Nick Adams' stories by ogling the descendants of his six-toed Key West cats. You have to read the books. That comes first -- you cannot skip this step. Then you can talk to me about Annie Proulx's Wyoming influences or D.H. Lawrence's New Mexico years.

Read. And just think: every book you read is another blow against Trumpism.

Sankofa African Heritage sponsors film series for Black History Month

The year gets off to a rousing start with the Martin Luther King, Jr., March on Jan. 15 and the Women's March on Jan. 20.

Lots of events showing up on the Arts Cheyenne web site. Trombone Shorty & Orleans Avenue come to the Civic Center on Jan. 31 and Fridays at the Asher has released its spring schedule. It includes an April 20 reunion concert by regional favorites Patti Fiasco. If spring is looming, can summer's many concerts and festivals be far behind? Yes it can!

For Black History Month in February, Sankofa African Heritage just announced a series of four films, Feb. 14-17. Here's are the details:

What: African-American Black Film Exposition

When: Feb. 14-17, 2018

Where: LCCC Conferences and Institutes Building, 1400 E. College Dr., Cheyenne

How much: Free; donations are accepted and appreciated

Contact: Jill Zarend, 307-635-7094; jillmerry@aol.com; www.SankofaAfricaWorld.org

Schedule:

Wednesday, Feb. 14, 5:30 p.m.: "I Am Not Your Negro," author James Baldwin's unpublished journal on racism in America, Academy Award nominee
Friday, Feb. 16, 5:30 p.m.: "500 Years Later," filmed on five continents, this film chronicles the struggles of peoples still fighting for self-determination
Friday, Feb. 16, 7 p.m.: "The Birth of a Movement," William Monroe Trotter's battle to mobilize censorship of the 1915 silent film, "Birth of a Nation"
Saturday, Feb. 17, 9 a.m.: "The Birth of a Nation," formerly entitled "The Clansman," the D.W. Griffith film remains controversial for its portrayal of the KKK as heroes and for its racist stereotypes of African-Americans during the Reconstruction era in the South

If you still have some film-going energy left, Feb. 17 brings the Sundance Film Festival Shorts Tour to the Civic Center in downtown Cheyenne at 8 p.m.. More info at http://www.cheyenneciviccenter.org/

Women's March Wyoming organizing update

The Women's March Wyoming is set for 10 a.m. on Saturday, Jan. 20, in Cheyenne. Gather at the Depot Plaza, march to the State Capitol, where surprises await, and then march back to Depot Plaza for speakers. This year, organizers have arranged for a super-duper sound system that will allow you to hang on the words of every speaker -- and we have some great ones.

Starting at about 11:30 a.m., the WMW food committee will dish up hot and cold luncheon items, including desserts and beverages. We will have vegetarian items and possibly some gluten-free selections. Feel free to bring your favorite pot-luck food item. You can drop it off inside before the march. Food committee solicits crockpot items, such as chili, stew or soup, but keep in mind that our crockpot extravaganza at last year's march blew some circuits at the Depot. Pizza and sandwiches always welcome, as are casseroles in cloth food warmers, which can be pink or any other cool color. We also welcome brownies and cookies and other assorted desserts.

If you are interested in being a part of the organizing committee, feel free to attend the next meeting on Sunday, Jan. 7, 1 p.m., in the library's third-floor Sunflower Room.

If you are a crafty person and wish to make buttons and pussy hats to sell at the march, assemble from 5:30-8:30 p.m., on Wednesday, Jan. 3, at a location to be announced. Update: Location is Danielmark's Brewing downtown.  Go to the Facebook page for more info.

Wordsmiths are invited to the Wines & Signs March Prep Party on Friday, Jan. 19, at 5:30 p.m., at the UU Church in Cheyenne. BYOB or BYOW. Also, snacks.

Next Women's March on Wyoming set for Jan. 20 in Cheyenne

Last year, the day after the presidential inauguration was a lot more interesting than the inauguration itself.

The inaugural Women's March was held around the U.S. on Jan. 21, 2017. Cheyenne mustered a crowd of at least 1,200. Not bad for a community of some 64,000 souls. I was a food volunteer at the event -- and a marcher -- and I summarized my experience in this Jan. 22 post.

On that gorgeous January day, many of us marchers were still in shock from the election results. Trump was (and is) a sexist, misogynistic jerk who openly bragged about grabbing women's body parts. I couldn't believe that America would choose this guy over a much more qualified and intelligent woman. Hillary Clinton. I couldn't believe that we had a black president for eight years and had taken a few steps forward and now we were taking giant leaps backward. Events during the past 11 months have shown how bad things can get.

The Women's March did not derail Trump's nefarious plans. One thing we Baby Boomer activists have learned is that one march does not lead to immediate consequences. Wars do not end. Civil rights are not achieved. It takes many years and hundreds of marches and legal actions and elections to achieve the stated goal.

That's a tough lesson for Americans. We expect instant results. But it's hard-headed patience and persistence that wins the day.

See you at the next Women's March on Wyoming in Cheyenne on Jan. 20, 2018, 10 a.m., at the Historic Depot Plaza downtown. A potluck will follow. Get updated info at http://www.wywomensmarch.org. See today's WTE for an article about the march. The theme for this year is voting -- both GOTV tactics and getting women elected to public office. You can't expect progress when your state legislature is dominated by a cabal of Male Republican Know Nothings.