While I found her first book, “The Tiger’s Wife” fascinating, I remain uncertain regarding this one. First it is long, 374 pages (I do read long books); second, it tells two different stories which do not interconnect at all until the end of the book. I kept wondering, asking myself, “What?” For me at least, the story picked up about half way through and my interest greatly increased.
One storyline is the life of one homesteading family in rural Arizona in the 1850s told mostly from the viewpoint of the wife. Her husband tends to wander off for long periods of time leaving her on her own with their children. His latest adventure is not only their homestead but also owning and running the local newspaper in the nearest town. The reader also meets some rather powerful but unsavory characters who want to own all the cattle and all the land.
The second storyline deals with the men who were hired by the government to bring camels to the West and manage them, one of whose story–a real historical person–is told. His name was Ali, a Syrian cameleer, who died in 1902. He was called Hi Jolly because people in US seemed unable or unwilling to pronounce his real name correctly. This part is told from the viewpoint of another cameleer, Hi Jolly’s friend, who has a criminal history and is trying to elude the law. Camels were brought to the US by the United States Camel Corps in the 1850s. At that time few roads existed in the Southwest, water was scarce, and camels were known to be able to go long periods without water. The experiment failed so camels were left either in the hands of the individuals who rode and cared for them or left to roam wild. Some of the men, including Hi Jolly, were able to open businesses transporting goods to remote areas via camel. This book details part of that history.
In both storylines one recurring theme is the lack of water. At one point the homesteading family have no water at all. In the other storyline people hire the cameleers to take them to places not realizing that even camels need water occasionally. I find it telling that 175 years later we continue to struggle with water issues in exactly the same part of the country.
Starting with ancient Egypt and later with the ancient Greeks and Romans and ending in current times, this highly researched book (there are 15 pages of Bibliography) details millennia of lies told about and attacks against women in power. Ridiculous things have been attributed to women, powers that no human has, in order to control them. Here is an example: Pliny the Elder (23-79 CE) wrote that menstruating women caused hailstorms, lightning, and whirlwinds. And worse yet, demons come from this blood (various medieval medical authorities) and it can shrivel the penis.
Then there is the whole thing about raging hormones. The word hysteria, which supposedly is an ailment of women, comes from the Greek word for uterus. During the 2020 presidential campaign, Marco Rubio, currently a possible candidate for vice president, tweeted a photo of ten missiles exploding and asked if you want a woman a heartbeat away from the presidency.
During the Middle Ages millions of women were put to death in various horrible manners after being accused of witchcraft. Even in current times various male political candidates and media announcers (a Newsmax journalist, Zinke of Montana, Ben Carson, Chris Matthews–list is almost endless) have called powerful political women witches. The victims of these pejorative rantings even include Margaret Thatcher when she held office.
Marie Antoinette never said, “Let them eat cake”. Various forms of this phrase had been around for over one hundred years. Ann Boleyn originally wanted to marry the love of her life who also wanted to marry her but the powers at the time, including Henry VIII, forbade this. Many of the ridiculous stories about Cleopatra can be easily disproven, e.g her being so rich she dissolved a giant pearl in vinegar to prove her wealth. Unless powered, pearls do not dissolve in vinegar. Catherine de Medici was attacked as some sort of sex pervert when she was 42, obese, and anything but a sexy seductress.
The documented lives of many powerful women for the last three thousand years contains endless abuse of all sorts. How is this possible? Because there is an informal Misogynist Handbook that has been used for millennia to control women. The above is only a smattering of what you will learn about this Handbook if you read this book. In the last chapter, the author does provide recommendations for overcoming this abuse of women. However, she also notes currently there is a “furious backlash against this long-delayed crawl toward justice, resulting in the increasing viciousness of sexist tweets and memes, more violent threats, more savage abuse.”
Arcosanti, an innovative village 70 miles north of Phoenix in the high desert, houses between 80-100 people who currently live there full-time. To become a resident, a person has to apply, take a five week course, and be able to contribute to the community. Their major business is making bronze bells in their foundry. They also host conventions. The week before I arrived, they hosted a convention of the executives of a corporation.
A few rooms of varying sizes are available to rent. They are pleasant with a view and modern amenities but not luxurious in the way some top hotels are. Here are views from my room.
After I arrived and unpacked, I took a walk up the hill and around the buildings.
This is a sort of giant classroom where it appeared they had been teaching how to make ceramics. The buildings are unique with the concept to fit in with the surroundings and take as little energy and resources from nature as possible.
This is the other side of the building in the previous photo. It is very hilly here and the buildings are build on the side of a steep hill.
The same building from a different angle. It was very windy when I was there and part of the area was closed due to the wind. There are bells everywhere and all were ringing in varying musical tones.
I walked down the road from my room, on a long trail, and up a steep incline to arrive across from the buildings so I could take these photos.
A closer view from across the arroyo.
This is across the arroyo from the main buildings. In the shadow, there is a door. I never learned what all this is for or what might exist behind the door.
All sorts of wildflowers were blooming when I was there in May.
The restaurant is unique and delightful. They serve excellent coffee–one day some was lavender infused–and various other simple dishes and pastries they make on site. The orange column you see is installed in winter to provide natural heating using natural airflow and taken down in late spring. This is a unique and pleasant place to visit. You can take tours. If you stay there, you can wander around freely. And, of course, you can purchase bells from the very small to some that are quite large and like metal works of art.
Several weeks ago, I spent a day wandering around the ancient sites where native peoples gathered over a thousand years ago.
This explains the extensive influence this place, located in the northwestern New Mexico desert, held for people from as far away as Central America. To reach this park, you have to drive on a dirt/gravel, rough road for more than 25 miles north of Crownpoint, NM. It is definitely worth the effort. However, it is impassable in rainy or snowy weather. The rangers who care for the park live there.
One of the first things you see as you get closer to the park is this rock tower, Fajada Butte.
Archeologists climbed to the top and discovered petroglyphs, “Sun Daggers”. Created between rock slabs, they align with each solstice and equinox and at these events the light projects to other sites, e.g. Pueblo Bonito. Other petroglyphs on a section of the canyon wall represent a supernova that occurred in 1054 CE.
The following depicts an overview of the site as it would have been in the past. In the 1940s part of the wall of rock behind the site collapsed onto it and destroyed some of the buildings.
Here is how it looks today. Many of the doors and windows align with astronomical events, e.g. solstices, the two equinox, and astronomical events that occur only every 17 years.
All sites here contain many kivas, many of which are very large. It is speculated that these were used for various sorts of ceremonies, including religious events.
In this view you can see how the rocks that fell from the cliff have destroyed parts of the structures.
Many of the buildings were several stories high. In their heyday, they did not look like this. They were covered with something like stucco and painted white. What an impressive site they must have been–large white structures in the middle of the brown desert. Archeologists think few people lived here. It was a place for gathering, for ceremonies, for trade, for people from long distances to meet.
Across from Pueblo Bonito is the largest kiva found in the area.
Behind the bars on the far side of the photo is an area that was used for ceremonial dancers to don their costumes. At the bottom you can see a depression with a small door. Before centuries of sand filled it in, this place would have be large enough for the ceremonial dancers to enter through it.
If you follow a trail along the cliff from Pueblo Bonito, you will find another area built at different times hundreds of years ago.
Another large kiva and many smaller ones are located at this site, including this famous long wall built at two different times.
The following shows where at some point the wall stopped, then later it was continued using somewhat different building material and techniques.
The top photo is considered the newer part of the wall.
The wood used for tops of windows and doors was brought from forests hundreds of miles away. The desert air has enable it to be preserved.
When you walk the trails, you see wild flowers and native plants. This is desert rhubarb and it is edible.
While these are photos of the more impressive structures at Chaco Canyon, more than two hundred ceremonial and meeting sites can be found in this area of NM and AZ.
Written in an unusual style, the narrator, the main character, tells his story to an American visiting Pakistan. While they are sitting eating dinner and later walk to a hotel, the narrator relates his life as an immigrant who found US life too shallow, too focused on profit. The narrator, a young, Pakistani man with an Ivy League degree, attains the heights of success in the US, working in a highly desirable career position where he is the star. After 9/11 occurs, he questions who he is, what working in this sought after career means, whether it is even ethical to work in a position for a firm whose job it is to investigate companies, their profits, and ruin the lives of the people who work there. He is sent to Chile to investigate a literary firm, meets the manager who takes him under his wing and helps him look at what he is doing in a totally different light. Is money everything? Do the lives of ordinary workers matter? In addition, it is a love story. He meets a beautiful, young, wealthy, US woman, they develop a close friendship, and he discovers she is not mentally stable and does everything he can to help her.
While on the surface this appears to be a story of a young immigrant who does not ultimately fit in with US life, it is much more. It raises the questions of the definition of success, of what love is, of profit over humanity.
If you like the unusual, violence, magic, revenge, stories of racism, classism, and Westerns, this is the book for you. Ming Tsu, a Chinese orphan at the time when the Chinese were building the railroad, is taken in by the head of a crime organization and taught to be an assassin. He falls in love with Ada, the daughter of a wealthy railroad magnate, elopes with her only to have her father (who has hired the crime organization to further his goals) kidnap her and force Ming Tsu into labor for the railroad. He eventually escapes, joins with a Chinese clairvoyant whom he calls the Prophet and a group of touring magic show performers, many of whom have supernatural abilities. He sets out to gain revenge, hunting down and killing all who helped his father-in-law kidnap Ada and put him in bondage. This is the classic Western romance, revenge story with a totally different twist and an unexpected ending.
Canyon de Chelley was named by the Spanish who could not quite pronounce the Diné (Navaho) word for it and hence this name which is pronounced like de shay. It is more than 30 miles long and has a river running through it at least a substantial part of the year. In summer native people live there with sheep, horses, etc. even though fewer and fewer of the younger generation choose to do so. To enter the bottom of the canyon, you must acquire a permit and hire a Navaho driver. This is to protect it from the vandalism that occurred in the past. Canyon de Chelley is jointly managed by the National Park Service and the Navaho Nation.
Canyon de Chelley begins at the edge of Chinle, AZ, near the Holiday Inn which, by the way, serves traditional food such as mutton stew and blue corn fry bread. Yes, I ate both. This photo shows the beginning.
It was quite a trip; I sat between two women in the back of a Jeep with a perfect view of everything right in front of me. Oscar, the driver, knew exactly how to traverse the water, the wash (what they call this stream), run up and down the banks.
Driving right up the middle of the wash.
Petroglyphs can be seen in so many places we stopped that I lost count. Oscar said they are nearly endless and can be found throughout the canyon walls.
A few days previous to our arrival it had snowed so everything was green and lush from snow melt.
In addition to petroglyphs, there are etchings in the rock walls.
In this case an etching/rock carving of horses.
Yes, we drove under this overhanging tree limb.
Sometimes the wash was narrower and deeper and we drove up and down steep banks and through deeper water.
Ancient pueblo people lived here for centuries, some more than 5,000 years ago. This is one of the largest pueblo structures in the canyon (The White House–due to a white washed wall which you cannot see from this vantage point). The fence was built to protect it from vandals. We saw many smaller dwelling places and Oscar said there are hundreds in the canyon.
Headed back down the wash. This was a half day trip so only saw less than half of the canyon. You can hire for an all day trip complete with picnic lunch and go all the way to some of the famous formations that can be seen from the road at the edge of the top. There is also a side canyon called Muerto–due to a massacre of the natives that occurred after the Navaho forced long march.
The Jeep needs a bath after this trip.
Note: With a permit and guides, there is camping and horseback riding trips up the canyon in addition to this type of tour.
Barbara Lewis Duke, pretty, petite, blue eyed and blond, my
mother, one fearless, controlling woman. Long after Mom’s
death, Dad said, “Barbara was afraid of absolutely no one
and nothing.” They married late, 34 and 38. He adored her
unconditionally. She filled my life with horses, music, love,
cornfields, hay rides, books, ambition. Whatever she felt she
had missed, my sister and I were going to possess: books,
piano lessons, a college education. Her father, who died long
before I was born, loved fancy, fast horses. So did she. During
my preschool, croupy years, she quieted my hysterical night
coughing with stories of run away horses pulling her in a wagon.
With less than one hundred pounds and lots of determination,
she stopped them, a tiny Barbie Doll flying across the Missouri
River Bottom, strong, willful, free.
Note: This poem about my mother has been published in at least one anthology and my book of poetry. My mother loved roses, had a rose garden. I now grow roses too.
Regrets and depression seem to have overwhelmed the main character, Nora. She’s lost her job, a car ran over her cat, she thinks she has failed at everything, and she says she wants to die. But does she really. Through a series of parallel universe experiences she gets to try out many different lives based on her long list of regrets. None really work because none of them exemplify her real self. She thinks she might like this new life or that new life, but none fulfill her, reflect her true self. She learns that money, fame, riches are not necessarily the answer. But what is the answer? What is the best way to live?
writingontherim 