Tag Archives: settlers

Bison

Bison: (n) a humpbacked shaggy-haired wild ox

Dictionary BWhile driving through Wyoming, I saw a bison standing along the side of the freeway, not more than fifty yards away.

A buffalo.

It was such a strange sensation.

I had seen many pictures of the bison, but to suddenly be in such close proximity with its three-dimensional form translated me back to a time when America was young, settlers were traveling across the prairie in Conestoga wagons, and the Native Americans were struggling to maintain their integrity without becoming belligerent.

These bisons were everywhere. They were sustenance.

I had a sweeping awareness that came over my soul, realizing how hard it was to live when the bison roamed the Earth at will.

Nowadays, we have an interesting dilemma in America: we want to feed the horse, but no one wants to shovel the shit.

Matter of fact, sometimes we try to stop feeding the horse so there’s not as much shit. Or we let the shit fall where it may, insisting it’s just reality.

But on this Memorial Day, what really impresses me about those who have gone before us and have given their lives to a cause is that they completely comprehended that feeding the horse does produce shit that needs to be shoveled.

In other words, for every bison you kill, there’s one less bison.

And for every human being you hurt, there’s one new enemy.

Likewise, for every war you start, there’s a few less sons and daughters who will grow up and live full lives.

And finally, for every prejudice you express, there’s an anger that will come back your way from those who have been oppressed.

Sometimes it’s just good to drive along the freeway, see a bison and appreciate the beauty of life–because the truth of the matter is, all matter demands truth.

And truth comes with a balance of feeding the horse and shoveling the shit

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Bedbug

Bedbug: (n) a bloodsucking bug that is a parasite of birds and mammals.Dictionary B

Every once in a while, you run across a hand-written account from one of the early settlers who traveled across the great heartland of America in a Conestoga Wagon.

Although there were many hardships–like rain, floods, broken wagon wheels, attacking Indians and creatures trying to maul them–I do not recall any of these frontiersmen complaining about bedbugs.

I’m sure they had them. But keeping a perspective on their lives, being chomped on by a ravenous bear probably took precedence.

But now we live in a world where we have so few problems in comparison to our forefathers that we have the luxury of focusing on miniscule concerns to terrorize ourselves into believing our lives are really adventurous.

I stay in roadside accommodations all the time and I am quite sure that the quality of the inn that I’ve selected for my holiday is not necessarily the Best Western just because I’ve paid more than six dollars for my motel.

Bedbugs like people.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with us avoiding their advances, but I think it’s optimistic to believe that our personal beds at home have any fewer of the critters than those in commercial locations.

So I think it’s just fine to be conscientious about avoiding bedbugs–as long as we aren’t obsessed and fearful of sharing a bed with one.

After all, if you’re frightened of bloodsuckers, politics makes strange bedfellows.

 

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