Pandemic Meditations

Eight Nations

A couple months ago my writer friend Erin Pringle (author most recently of the wonderful novel, Hezada! I Miss You), asked if I would be interested in contributing to a series of essays, poems, whatever related to the current COVID-19 pandemic. Of course I was interested. My piece went live yesterday. It is called “Eight Nations” and it is about a driving trip I took last July visiting Indian reservations in Montana for an article I did for Montana Quarterly magazine. So for my newsletter this week, I am hoping you will click over and visit Erin’s site, by clicking RIGHT HERE. An excerpt:

My Great Great Grandmother, Susie Moran La Tray, was Assiniboine. She was adopted and raised Catholic by a white family after she was found on the plains as an infant in the wake of the US Cavalry chasing a band of Indians who had escaped the reservation. Of her biological parents—were they killed? did they simply abandon her in their flight?—I know nothing. But I also question this narrative. There is so much going on along the southern borders of the United States right now with echoes of how our government has always treated the vulnerable, whether it is murder, forced sterilization of women, or the trafficking of children, that I don't know what to believe. All that matters is she survived. Which is all it feels like we can try and do these days ourselves. More history, echoing.

I experimented with the style a little, attempting something of a haibun. That’s a Japanese form essentially created by one of my favorite writers ever, Matsuo Bashō (1644-1694). It would be better if I had spent more time with it, but I also like that it’s pretty raw. Everything is raw during these times, isn’t it?

As an aside, I’m always struck when I make note of Bashō’s lifespan. He’s most famous for his haiku poetry, but his big contribution to the world is arguably his travelogue The Narrow Road to the Deep North, which chronicles a five-month journey he made on foot starting in 1689. Much is made of him setting out “as an old man.” Old man? Hell, he died when he was 50—that’s younger than I am right now! Yeah, that was 350 years ago, but still….

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Greetings to all the new people who signed up, especially after the event I did with my pal Anne Helen Petersen. That was a lot of fun and I thank you for joining us. This week’s newsletter feels more phoned-in than usual but I wanted to send some attention Erin Pringle’s way since she’s been busting her ass curating the thing. I hope you can find some time to CHECK IT OUT.

Be well, take care of each other, take care of yourselves….