Food for Thought

- As another community member said when he saw the kinds of seeds I gave Donna, "There is so much that we forgot to take with us before the flood."  Enduring Seeds, Gary Paul Nabhan

That sentence makes me cry every time I read it.

"The flood" refers to the Garrison Dam.  Built from 1947-1953, it coming into existence meant that the Mandan, Hidatsa, and Arikara had to leave the lands they had lived on for centuries.  Most accounts say they accepted payment of 5 million for their lands; but anyone who ever dealt with a large corporation and/or government knows what that really means.  "We're taking your land, and here's some money that you have to sign this paper for."  In the end, they got about $33 per acre.  They lost their homes, their way of life, and even their seeds.  (Look up the full story.  Everyone should have to hear the brutal truth what happened.  Better yet, read Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee.)

Yet some of their seed survived, which made their way into the hands of seed savers.  More importantly, those seeds are still with their people, or have gone back to their people.

That's more than I can say for my ancestors' seeds.

Some of my ancestors came from the German/Poland border (then called Prussia), from Mecklenburg, and from France (Hugenots who lived between France and Germany) on my mother's side.  On my father's side, from Moravia, from Germany allegedly (that great-grandma claimed a lot that can't be proven), and from Ireland and Scotland.  

So they grew.....  well....  there's those family seeds from.....  

I suppose that's one of the issues with being from an immigrant family.  Anything you had that survived until the World Wars, you lost to patriotism.  Language included.  Today it is popular to point fingers and scream "white," but even 30 years ago, when I was in high school and college, you had better not show anything that made you look less "English."  No accent or speech patterns.  No religion.  I once was mistaken for having a Canadian accent.  I should have let that individual think that.  

So this year as I plan my "culturally diverse" garden, I will think about all the different places my seed has come from and rejoice at the variety.... but part of me will always wonder "what did my family grow?"

Happy 2021

I wish everyone a very good 2021, with hopes that this year turns out better than it promises to.

Perhaps I would have more hope for the year if I wasn't watching, while at this moment, news reporters are calling people who oppose them "anarchists." In Michigan, we watched as real anarchists took over Seattle last year and ran massive protests. I watched and prayed, as close to my own home, we were invaded by those same anarchists from Washington and Oregon. They were supported by our governor while it was a crime to leave our homes because of a virus. Visit the anarchists' websites, if you don't believe me.  

I declare this year's heroes should be the late Group Captain Harry "Wings" Day of the RAF (1898-1977), and the late Colonel Jerry Sage (1917-1993). Their books are well worth the read, and they ought to be read in the schools. (I hear the laughter.)  

And so, my ode to 2021. At the rate it is going, Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky is the poem of the year.

To Lewis Carroll, poet brillig,

Now raise your bloody* glass!

Jabberwocky, Bandersnatch,

We’ll drink an ode to you.



For common sense let’s raise a pint

To common sense, now dead!

Let’s take a cup of kindness yet,

Before that, too, has died.

CMK 2021

*British word used in place of something else