Sunsets never get old

The clouds and flurries that hung around all day cleared out just in time for sunset. So, I got bundled up and ran outside to watch it.

Open space + solitude + setting sun = Bliss.

Grocery shopping isn't always black and white

Yes, I shop at Wal-Mart. There I said it. Now get over it.

I was on the phone with a friend last night who gasped when I told him in passing I had shopped at Wal-Mart. Generally, I don’t like the idea of purchasing my food and underwear under the same roof. Plus, I spent four years working in a grocery store during high school and college and I still enjoy walking the aisles of a traditional supermarket to do my food shopping.

Overall, the cost of living is much, much lower in South Dakota compared to Alaska. But here on the rez, food is particularly expensive. (The same reason is given here as in Juneau as to why that’s the case: shipping costs.) And the two small grocery stores in town do not offer the same selection as your local Safeway.

Thus, when I’m out of town, I make sure I have a list with me of items I need to stock up on. For example, I spent $100 at the Wal-Mart in Rapid two Saturdays ago when I was in town for the Stock Show. That trip would have cost me double in Mission, assuming I would have been able to find everything I needed.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m a big fan of frequenting stores owned by locals. I love going down to Valentine to do just that. My routine is to grab a tea, look around Young’s, and head over to the bookstore. If a Wal-Mart were to ever locate in Valentine, some businesses in town would surely close. It wouldn’t be farfetched for establishments here in Mission to also suffer, as folks from Todd County would regularly make the quick, half-hour drive down 83 to shop there.

One could argue, however, that some of those businesses to be hypothetically impacted by a Wal-Mart opening in Anytown, USA, maybe weren’t that strong to begin with. Or Main Street was long dead way before Wally World even appeared on the outskirts of town along the highway.

An alternative is that I can go on food stamps. My VISTA stipend equals poverty wages, so I would certainly qualify. Would it be more honorable of me to apply for welfare from the state and get my food for free from the local grocery store, just to say I don’t shop at Wal-Mart?

Wal-Mart is not the evil, be-all and end-all scapegoat for everything that is wrong with this country. I’m willing to bet a few of their workers actually like their jobs and receive health benefits, just like there are others who have been taken advantage of. And the same dynamic most definitely rings true for other large retailers as well.

So, where exactly do I stand? Wal-Mart is not an adequate economic development strategy to cure the ills of rural America. Personally, I’ll continue to take my green bag, walk up to the grocery store, and buy locally whenever possible. But the next time I’m in Pierre or Rapid or Vermillion, I’m going to stop at the local Wal-Mart and buy the Clif Bars I can’t find in Mission and the celery LaCosta likes. And I’m going to sleep just fine at night.

Just like Mom used to make

Well, except for the fact my cookie dough came from an 18-pound tub that expired in September. But they may still be called "homemade," I think.

A Juneau kind of day

It's a gray and rainy day in Mission. It's actually the first significant rain we've received since my arrival in November. It has been quite a dramatic, and welcome, change from the typical weather pattern in Juneau. In fact, I pulled out my waterproof jacket for the first time at lunch today. There's a little bit of wind out there too, enough to pelt the windows with raindrops. (Ah, memories...) The dirt road leading up to the Habitat property is muddy, the potholes filled with water. I'm sure the unpaved roads across the reservation are sloppy, including the Dump Road, my usual running route.

Of course, this isn't the first precipitation we've had this winter. There have been several snowfalls, plus a sleet event on Super Bowl Sunday that was accompanied with dark skies and summer-like shafts of moisture. And then there was the brutal blizzard which swept through in early November. (The snowbank out front from that storm has almost melted.) My sunny disposition toward this winter would certainly be different if I had been here to experience that.

For me, looking back at my first winter in the Dakotas will include thoughts of howling winds, frozen pipes, and blasts of arctic cold. There's still a ways to go before spring is here for good. And significant snow is possible into April and May. But just knowing that a real summer is on its way is enough to get me through. Bring on the heat - and the farmer's tan!

Me and Kellogg's, a wholesome match made in heaven

Close to 1,200 people have joined the Facebook group "Boycott Kellogg's for Dumping Michael Phelps." Kellogg's won't be renewing Phelps' contract since being caught smoking pot from a pipe.

It can be argued Phelps is seen as a hero to some. The feats he has attained in the swimming pool are astonishing. He's an amazing athlete. It's no wonder Kellogg's would want to use him to endorse their products after his performance in Beijing last August.

But why is it surprising Kellogg's has decided to cut him loose after what it has learned about Phelps' extracurricular activities? Maybe I'm a bit old fashioned, but a drug user wouldn't be my first choice to serve as the face of a product I'm trying to sell. In that, it's a business decision.

Frankly, his being caught smoking pot isn't even the bottom line with me. After 2004's Sydney Olympics, he was arrested for and pleaded guilty to driving under the influence. Drinking and driving is one of the most disgusting, irresponsible acts I can fathom. Drink yourself into oblivion, I don't care. But when one drinks then gets behind the wheel of an automobile, the drunk has placed others' (including my own) lives at risk.

The funny thing is I hadn't really done much reading about this story until seeing the Facebook group this evening. So he decided to smoke marijuana. Okay, fine. He wasn't hurting anyone. I just don't think pot smoking should be glamorized, which is what would have happened without any societal reaction. Whether he likes it or not, he is a role model. Fair or unfair, that raises the expectations for how he should conduct himself, both in public and private. But just like any of the rest of us, there are consequences for our actions.

It made me think of what the reaction may have been if he had been photographed smoking nicotine cigarettes or placing a big nasty wad of chewing tobacco into his cheek instead. Would it have been the same?

I guess I should conclude with the disclaimer that I've never smoked pot. I've had no desire to try it. It's just not an option. And call me a square or judgmental, but I think I'm above drug use.

Hmmm... I suddenly have the urge to treat myself to a bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats. Cheers!

Flyover country

I think it's safe to say I live in what's disparagingly referred to as flyover country. Negative connotation aside, it's an apt description. The closest commercial airport is up in Pierre, 100 miles to the north. And that airport is smaller than Juneau's, to provide a bit of comparison.

While taking photos of the sunset one evening soon after arriving in Mission, I saw two planes high in the sky. I hoped the fleeting sun would last long enough for me to see their contrails intersect. And it did.

Death

Death is palpable here on the reservation.

Some of the reasons are, I think, unique to the Rosebud. Rates of teenage suicide are astronomical, with another one occurring recently. Alcohol-related traffic accidents are marked by diamond-shaped signs on the highways. They read 'Think!" on one side, "Why die?" on the other. No matter which direction I drive leaving Mission, I see them everywhere. Sometimes, there's only a single sign; however, seeing clusters of two, three, or four is not uncommon.

Another reason is just the fact I live in a very small town. Families have lived on the reservation for generations. The same surnames come up in conversation, are heard in the daily birthday announcements on KINI, and appear in the weekly paper. A woman passed away from cancer earlier this week after being given three to five days to live after only receiving her original diagnosis a month ago. Her name has come up in numerous conversations this week, in situations ranging from a Super Bowl party to a legislative social gathering.

I attended a powwow last Friday night as part of Sinte Gleska University's Founders' Week activities. Before the wacipi, there was a Wiping of Tears ceremony, a way to remember those who passed away in the last year. Family members who had lost loved ones sat at the front of the gymnasium. Prayers in Lakota and English were said as sage was lit. The loved ones let the smoke envelop them, using their hands to guide it over themselves.

After the prayers, all in attendance were welcomed to the floor to offer condolences. Those who knew the departed and their family lingered, providing hugs and words of support. Others, like me, offered a simple handshake. All in all, it was an intense, emotional experience for everyone involved.

There was a horrible traffic accident just south of town Saturday afternoon. I knew something bad must had happened because the fire alarms here in town would not quit. The alarm mostly sounds for the daily noontime test. But even when the call is for an actual emergency, it's usually one and done. Not this time though. The ambulances headed south down 83 toward the state line.

Rumors starting flying almost immediately. I was at the grocery store a bit after the accident. The woman behind me at the checkout asked the cashier if she had heard about what had happened. She said, "There were bodies all over the road." Over the coming days, I would hear similar versions of the story (a car pulled out in front of a tractor trailer), but the details remained fuzzy.

And in what reflects, in my opinion, the frequency of and the numbness toward these types of wrecks, it will remain that way. The same four-paragraph Associated Press blurb that was reported in the state's largest newspapers on Monday, two days after the accident, is all that appeared in yesterday's Todd County Tribune. Short and spare, it provided the location, the names of the deceased (two locals and two from Minneapolis), and a statement that the truck driver had been admitted and released from the hospital. That's it.

For me, death's presence on the Rosebud is striking considering my overall happiness here and the genuinely good people I've met. Moving from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other is tough enough; the rapidity with which it occurs here is downright jarring.