Preblogger diary: January 2006 and Before

Evan’s Earth Walk January



January 31st, Tuesday; I taught World Views and Values, but forgot to mention Ground Hogs Day. . I realized that the students were confused as to what the course objectives were, and so I took an extra class to go over that in detail, and they seemed much reassured. I did not show the film on the Tyrolean Ice Man but asked them to do internet research first.
The fan letter from Sarah Holmes was written on the 23rd, postmarked today from Tulsa, and arrived on February 2nd. Today I worked on the Mets VS Yanks article, and several others until late.
January 29th, Sunday I awoke with the sun and saw it was 7:30. I saw my shadow. I fell back to sleep and when I woke up I had overslept it was past 9:00 and lots to do. I rushed out at 9:30 and drove as fast as the law would allow and made good time. I made one wrong turn just to crank up the excitement, and got to the Rock Tavern Unitarian Church just as things were cranking up.
When I got there, Ellis was there in the car waiting to help me, a big surprise which I fully expected. I really needed help with the boxes, no time to spare. Just then the reporter for the THR, Deb Medenbach, walked up, looking beaming and radiant like the Imbolch sunrise. She was there to help too. I had promised her a copy of No Word For Time. There was a lot of preparation to do for the service. I was supposed to rehearse with the pianist! Hollis …was a good pianist with a good feel for reggae, and going through it twice was good enough. I made sure the guitar was in tune with the piano.

I had lunch with Ellis afterwards and just talked. It was raining pretty steadily. I went home and slept and then got up at 3 or so, and worked on the Mets literary baseball website. I worked on the LoDuca vs Piazza article.


January 28th, Saturday Ellis and I went to buy a microphone and I played mandolin for some people and got a mike for 15. We went to a flea market and bought all kinds of dollar stuff. The sun was incredibly warm. I was very tired after all that shopping and took a nap. I worked on the recording device again but couldn’t get it to work. We had agreed that I would leave at 7 PM so that I would make it to the Larsen’s in time. I had to do a lot of final packing of bags and left at 7:15, a dramatic departure. At the mountain pass on 84 I pulled over and did a tobacco ceremony asking spirit what to do, and to stop me if I was going in the wrong direction. There was no comment.

I was the main event at an all night Imbolch Vigil at authors Robin and Steven Larsen’s house, I did two one hour “sets” before the fireplace, mostly as the 11,000 year old man, answering questions from the audience (of about 30) telling stories from NASS and asking people where they were born, so that I could regale them with stories about their place of birth. There were several from Pittsburgh, so I told stories about that. One woman said she was from Nebraska, (where they have Jackalopes) so I told the story of the Deer and the Rabbit. I said, “So you see deer in the woods around here with antlers, but no rabbits with antlers. So the deer won the contest…but sometimes in Nebraska, you see rabbits with antlers.” The woman played right along with me and commented on the many jackalopes seen mounted on walls throughout Nebraska, and only there. Someone said, “So how did rabbits in Nebraska get their horns?” I answered right back,”The rabbits in Nebraska demanded a recount.”
As I finished and walked away, I heard Robin say “Bless you Evan, thank you!”
At 330 Steve finally did his reading from memory of the Cremation of Sam McGee. And then it was time for me to go.
At four or so I caught a ride with the couple that had given me the recording of the Sami Yoiking, and I stayed in their attic, just down the road. The woman is a great artist of Goddesses and a friend of Susan S Bolet.

January 27th, Friday; I taught my World Views and Values course in the morningAfter class I went to teach Lauren, my guitar student, at her home. She’s a big Hendrix fan, and I taught her the baseline to Hey Joe, which is one of the best. She showed me a new recording device that had just been invented and let me listen in. It was the best I ever heard. She said she got it at Alto. I went to visit my accompanyist and discussed it, and then decided to go to Alto and buy one similar. Ten minutes before closing I looked at it, but changed my mind. In the parking lot, I kept thinking this is what I’ve been waiting for my whole life, a perfect recording device. I went in again but they had closed. They opened the register and sold me the device. I went to the hermitage and brought the device to try to figure it out. It was very difficult to understand. Some day I hope to record all my Algonquin language books onto it, and some talking books as well.

January 26th, Thursday, I taught my Ethics course today, after doing afew errands, and working on the new Robert J book, The Awakening. Sometimes I think it is the greatest challenge I have ever faced as a writer. I called Greg Moses on a whim and we talked for a long time. He really liked my Miss Leeds Catalogue Website. I told him I thought of him when making up Cat’s Critique of Purina, and he laughed for a long time.
On my way to class, walking to class from my parking spot at Fontaine, I tripped on the tricky cement curb and came down hard on my right wrist and left knee. I cut my left knee open and it was bleeding, but my right wrist was badly banged up and started to swell and bruise. The wrist continues to hurt a week later.
My advanced ethics class at Marist went very well. They came in very skeptical, and left looking very happy. It was a breakthrough for me in preparing my ideas for my upcoming book “Meeting of the Minds.” I got everyone to agree on a series of points or agreements about ethics that were self-evident. There were twelve syllogistic points that built one on top of the other, which I represented on the board with bricks, making a ziggurat on the board. The points were:
1. We all have different missions in life (we proved this by polling each person)
2. If all missions are different, we must each have the sovereign freedom to pursue that mission. To be controlled is to have that mission taken away.
3. Free will is therefore good.
4. Our right to free will extends only to the point where it does not infringe on others’ free will, which would not be logical.
5. All men seek peace, and do not want war and chaos in their life. This is another limit of free will.
6. We therefore make agreements and promises with others, giving up specific aspects of our freedom in exchange for a known and measurable benefit.
7. Agreements must follow the guidelines for written contracts, and must have the four components, 2 or more parties; clear parameters, fair consideration, and responsibilities and repercussions.
8. It is wrong and unethical to make an agreement and then not keep it.
9. In a “Gyge’s Ring” situation, if we are “invisible” to the law, we will probably feel we can break the agreement without punishment, and try to cheat.
10. Most people, given a Gyge’s ring, would be corrupted by it eventually.
11. By our definition, ethics concerns outer observable actions, while morals concerns inner states, which are invisible to others, but which can be deduced over time through our actions.
12. Therefore, we must be morally good so that we would still keep our agreements with friends and with society even if we had “Gyge’s ring.” This is why we must study and understand the reasoning behind ethics and morals.
We had a citizenship thinktank meeting with Dan Black and Dr. Mar, but just us showed up. We talked about what to do to get the group started, like it was a year or two ago.
I started working on blogspot after that. I googled a website on blogs and it looked like blogspot or blogger, was the most successful site. I called Ellis who said I should call the security guards and file a report about my wrist, which was in a lot of pain and I did. I took a guard to the site and complained about the badly designed curb. I said that I had been a mountainclimber in the Alps, Himalayas, and Rockies, and that I had only falled twice and both times were on this same curb, and that both times I was badly injured. It was interesting that a certain person I keep telling people is using black magic was very angry at me at that moment for something that wasn’t my fault. It makes you go HMMM.


January 25th, Wednesday; Today the long awaited article came out in the Times Herald Record about me and James David Audlin. I was at the hermitage and not feeling too energetic when Ellis Fox called and said the article was great. I went late to the Citgo and all the THR were sold out. I got worried and went around town to find more. I got seven from Turkey Hill, and then three more at the grocery. It looked great. I think I got a dozen. I decided to stay at the hermitage and emailed 10 people and called some more about the article. When I saw it I was psyched. It really looked good, and the THR is the fourth largest paper in New York State, and everyone knows what the first three are.

I decided to call cultural centers in the THR area and ask them to look at the article and hire me for events in the coming year. I was surprised how many gigs I booked in one day, four for sure! I talked with John Wells, a director for Inwood Park Nature Center, a friend of Steven Larsens, and he wanted to hire me, for March 3rd? I called Diane DeCiello at Ellenville Library and she was going to call to hire me for the 200th Anniversary of Warwarsing, but hesitated. She basically hired me on the spot since I called, to make a long story short. She’s a good person to work for, and answered my message promptly. Now I have to write up a proposal and all, it will be fun. Then I called the Outdoor Ed Center at Ashokan Field Campus. They said they were closed for the summer, but to call in June and book a gig for September. Then I called this mysterious number scrawled on my calendar for the day and it was a librarian and friend of Ray’s called Kr and we talked for an hour. We started to set up ideas for library programs in Chester. I also talked to Thunderbird in Canada about details about our upcoming pair of workshops on Landkeepers. I called several others about the article. In the evening, at the request of Kate Treworgy, my publicists down at Skylight Paths, I did a fairly complete listing of all the links on the web that mentioned Stories of the Sacred, and found at least 25, plus 15 others that mentioned Native New Yorkers, still fairly current. There were an amazing number of sites I had never seen before, and it really put me in a much better mood, as the news was all favorable. Most of the 25 NASS (Native American Stories of the Sacred) sites I had never seen before. The highlight of the day was a partial rave review in the American History Magazine about Native New Yorkers from November 2002. Ellis asked what was I doing then that I didn’t know about that. I was having a tough time with harassment of various political kinds, what I call “interference.” No one told me about the review, which had two highly quotable bits of praise, amid what I considered mild and reasonable criticism. The writer felt obligated to comment on my references to Lenape’s keen interest in psychic phenomenon, for praising the environmental sagacity of traditional natives, and for my criticism of New York City’s scarcity of wildlife and birds, compared to the 1600s. I can take criticism like that any day, and I think my fans will know why I said them.








EVANSEARTHWALK 1 A Diary from Summer of 05

This past Thursday, (Feb. 9th) I found this first attempt to keep an “Evansearthwalk” diary, on my hard drive. It was written down while I was busy actually editing Native American Stories of the Sacred with ace Skylight editor Mark Ogilbee this past summer. And what a summer it was, traveling with my rambunctious teenage son DLP, having adventures, giving lectures and workshops, going to baseball games of all kinds, from whiffleball to major league ball, and stopping every few days to answer difficult questions from Mark. Through the aid of cell phones and emails, we kept the project on schedule through thick and thin. There were lots of dips and doodles in the editing process, which is a saga in itself, but unflappable Mark never got angry, well only once, but that was on the last day when the superbeing named Tenkashila threw us a fastball, and we had our mini-cuban-missile-crisis, but cooler heads prevailed. In fact Mark really negotiated several resolutions that worked for everyone and the book ended up about 24 hours behind schedule.

Sunday, July 17th, 2005: DLP and I went to the Mets game in Queens from PA in the rain. We parked on the other side of the 7 train and ate the food that we had packed, making the back of the car a sort of picnic table. We scalped for tickets behind home plate from this family, we got a slight discount because we waited until just before game time. We sat next to them, and they were nice people. We had a great view of the strike zone. There was one rain interruption, but we were just under the roof. Pedro was great. After the game we drove back to my place upstate.

Monday, July 18th, 2005: We were trying to make plans as to what to do today and Tuesday, as we had several options and only so much money, but could basically do whatever we wanted. It was then that DLP PhD started to develop his soon to be famous Lameness Equation. I got into it, and we discussed it as two philosophers might discuss Calvin’s predetermination versus Aquinas’ free will. We disagreed on certain aspects of the equation but agreed as to the basic idea.
Lameness is the product of an equation where F is Fun, R is Risk, $ is money spent (in my formula divided by people involved). In other words Fun is ranked on a scale between one and five, Risk is the sum of the number of risks involved. If $ is $100, divided by 4 people, then $ is $25. As the number of risks should not exceed the amount of fun on a scale of 1 through 5, R over F should be less than 1. Therefore, L should not be over 25. This formula applies to dates, blind dates, organization trips, field trips, day trips, and outings. If you’re putting yourself at a big risk and spending a lot of money for a limited amount of fun, then the lameness factor goes above 25, and the more it goes above 25, the more lameness one perceives and experiences in the event. This came up yesterday, when we wanted to see the Mets game, which was a hundred miles and several bridge tolls and parking fees away, but it was raining. If we spend $40 to get there and plus $10 in parking, ($50) plus $50 for scalped tickets, and five hours each way driving (and a high risk of taking a wrong turn and getting stuck in traffic and missing the game) and then it was rained out before the fifth inning, the lameness factor would be very high. If they had a terrible game to boot, the F factor would be 3 or less, the R factor would be 5, and the product would be L = 5/3 x $100 Lameness factor would be 166. That was a very high L factor, and we were worried it might turn out to be a really lame outing.

We decided to go anyway, and we had a great time. Wonderful seats, good company, great game, the Mets won, and it was a bonding experience…as they say on the ads, “Priceless.”

I called my Mi’kmaq friend Helen B and DLP and I said we would make our way over to her house in Woodstock. I met and talked to some tourists from North Carolina, who said I was the only one who gave them the time of day, then DLP had a pizza, and I mailed off the new batch of edits to Skylight Paths, right on schedule. Each pass seems to leave the 307 pages covered with red markings. I was working hard. It was not the last time. I handed it over to the guy at Post Express and he said it was not the first time he’d mailed a package from Woodstock NY to Woodstock, VT. And commented how beautiful that town was, but that Woodstock, Illinois was not very nice looking at all. He was the second to comment that Woostock VT has some of the most expensive real estate in New England. He said the mountains were like the Alps there.
I got gas and did some other errands, and we got to Helen’s house an hour later. We ended up all piling into my car and going to Dragon Buffet, and then to The Book Stop book store where they let you sit and read. We were very tired, so we all sat and read in those comfortable chairs. It’s a great bookstore. It started to rain. Then I checked my messages, and there was an urgent sounding message from First Light, the Washo Woman, and it sounded like there were some major revisions needed. I wondered how much more revising I had strength for.
We made it to Helen’s, and we put our feet in the water of the river in her back yard. The sky opened up and the rain pounded on her skylight windows. I knew then First Light wanted to talk about the Water Babies. Apparently they weren’t happy with how I’d written up the interview with First Light. Here was lots of water everywhere lashing the walls and windows of the house, and here was water making paths across the skylight in the roof…skylight paths, angry water spirits, I got the message. Rewrite the Water Babies section! They are the ones who bring water. I asked DLP if he thought there was a connection. He double-took (if that’s a word) and chuckled and then looked serious. “You’d better check it out Dad! Those are certainly skylight paths and that’s some angry water!”
I would need to have a long talk on the phone with First Light and then would need to meet her for dinner in NYC (my offering of thanks) and go over the changes. When the storm subsided, I dropped DLP off at Colony for the all night poetry readings, which was at the top of his list and mine. I put my name on the list and wrote “bump me until I get back.” Phil Levine, of Chronogram fame , was running the poetry reading, and was glad to see me. He was the same one who played on the opposing team in our great “Field of Dreams” softball game last Sunday. I raced home and got on the phone with First Light, and we burned through rewrites (based on her follow-up research and meditations on what we had said before), and we both started to get exhausted, and it was 10:30. After FL and I disconnected, mostly satisfied with the results of our powwow, I got a message, left earlier that evening that the all night poetry jam had run out of literary steam earlier than expected, and DLP needed a ride. The doors had closed and he was left outside in the cold without a jacket. I figured there was no way to call him so I just jumped in the car and went to town to look for him.

I raced back to Colony and picked him up, slightly shivering but not too cold. We went to Dietz Stadium Diner in Kingston, NY to hang out all night and have an all night snack and read the paper and talk about baseball and celebrate our boys night out.We got back to Saugerties at about 3 AM.

Tuesday, July 19th, 2005: There was a musical event in New Paltz we had been invited to sing and participate in. But now I was confronted with a situation where I clearly needed to meet with the Washo elder and make sure everything was okay with the book. There were many things that First Light told me that had not been in print before, as far as we knew, and she was a major contributor to the book. We had to get into NYC via a long path. We placed the car in our friend’s driveway in Queens, rested and showered for a half hour, and then got on the bus, which came quickly. We went into town tried Rays Pizza and looked out at the pedestrians, and found the restaurant where we were to meet First Light. The place was called Jackson Hole, a real western style place. I guess First Light is a real western style girl, living in this big eastern city and working at a very difficult job in the medical profession, and doing quite well.
We ordered our burgers, I had a Texas burger, and then she arrived, and we mostly chatted and told stories, but then we went over the last story, about the Ang, the Monster Bird, and she discussed it with me, gave me a photocopy of a version of the story, then handed me some hand written notes on how she would do the story, and then we parted. She said that having discussed all of this, we should use the name First Light, rather than “an anonymous Washo elder of great importance.” I took that as a “go.”

There were so many changes that it would soon paint the pages red like an etching printed in red ink. There were a lot but they were all very good, well thought out. She had to leave. It was about 15 minutes later than planned, which isn’t bad considering all the changes. She tells wonderful stories and remains completely immersed in her culture even while holding down a senior position in a stressful doctor’s office in Midtown Manhattan. Much later, DLP and I saw a movie at the Museum of the American Indian in Washington, A Thousand Roads, in which a Mohawk stock broker holds onto her traditions while working on Wall Street in Manhattan, a delicate balance, and I wish First Light could have seen it.
Then we had to run from there eastward across town to try to meet Shoshana at Central Park in a concert by the New York Philharmonic. We ran fast, but the weather was very heavy humidity. My heart was not so strong as DLP’s, nor were my lungs. We first came across a pay concert by Elvis Costello. DLP was thrilled, one of his favorite groups, and we stood outside the seating zone and listened for free. Then we asked a guard which way to the Philharmonic, and she said we had a long way to go. We ran and ran through the park, and finally came to the All-Dvorak concert, having missed only one part of a movement of the Dvorak cello concerto, with Lynn Harrell as the soloist. I believe Lynn is part Cherokee.
There were big loud speakers, but there were barricades everywhere, so we couldn’t get to the front where Shoshana was. We had ground cover with us, but the grass was so thick and lush that it was more comfortable to lay right on the grass. Standing on a ball field we could hear really well, but lying surrounded by people talking, we couldn’t hear as well. DLP was very interested and asked a lot of questions. He is a good musician with a quick ear, and we have done many paid singing gigs, where he had to learn new tunes quickly, but I have 40 years experience, so we make a good duo. It was a nice experience to share. The finale was of course the New World Symphony, a solo guitar arrangement of which is on my guitar CD, Contemplations, as the last selection, and which is a great piece to end on, which is just what the Philharmonic did. We grabbed a program on the way out, and read about Dvorak, and then looked for Shoshana among those exiting. And then we went to that same Deli where we had watched the Mets, but it was closed. It was very hot. We sat on one of my favorite stoops, on the corner of Columbus and 72nd, and ate and drank and watched people pass and read the Times. DLP loves to sit on a stoop and read the Times, and this was a good chance, as I needed the rest. We got on the subway and made it back to Queens where we played the piano and watched TV.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005: We were in Queens, getting a slow start. I checked messages and got a call from the Open Center to come and pick up $100 and the remaining books. We blasted out of there, and made it in good time. There were three of the long-time employees there, and all were glad to see me, and be introduced to DLP. I introduced [….] as the Voice of the Open Center (she does the voiceover for the answering machine) Dianne as the face of the Open Center, (she’s the receptionist) and Amanda as the heart of the Open Center, as she is always smiling and helping everything to occur. They all gave us a very warm welcome. Mariella, the book store maven of the Open Center, or should I say its resident scholar, came up and gave me the books that didn’t sell, not many really, and then we booked. DLP was very strongly drawn down Crosby street, because it looked like a movie set, and wouldn’t be refused, so we did, and found the Housing Networks Used Bookstore and Café. Their slogan is Fighting AIDS one book at a time. Amy Sohn wrote “Housing Works is the Studio 54 of the Lit scene.” The address is 126 Crosby Street, NY 10012 (212)3343324. I found the video Roger and Me for a dollar and gave it to DLP. We found the masterpiece novel Confederacy of Dunces for $7 and I implored DLP, who is not big on fiction, to read it. He resisted getting involved with a reading project, as he was so busy with a video contest. I said, “Open it anywhere and read!” I said that the trick of writing a good work of fiction is for the reader to be able to open to any sentence and be grabbed by it. With Confederacy of Dunces it worked and he was hooked. I got a lemonade, then checked my messages. It was there while drinking my lemonade and looking through some of their amazing LP collection, that I got Mark’s grave message on the cell phone. Stewart had made the decision just now, painful for us all, but very necessary, to shorten the book by two signatures. I listened to the message and reached my hand behind me to find support in the walls. It was the literary equivalent of a cancer diagnosis, but in this case not malignant if surgery goes well. Then I leaned forward over a bin of LPs as I continued to listen to the long, carefully worded message from Mark Ogilbee. Mark should be a minister, he is so good at delivering bad news in a healing and comforting way. Just a harmless little surgery and everything will be great. I listened to it twice, as interested in his delivery as in what he said. As a long time editor and journalism guy myself, I knew what it was to tell a writer their work was to be cut in half, but probably never said it as nicely as Mark. In fact, the book had become really long and was not fitting into the annotation format, and so a lot of paper was being wasted in a way that was not going to be pleasurable for the reader. As it turned out, the cuts needed were not as substantial as it first appeared, thanks to Maura Shaw Tantillo’s skill and understanding of the material. But at that moment, it looked like surgery could easily turn into amputation.
I explained to DLP that this was a real “Hollywood” moment, and that someday when he was a really successful screen writer and director, this would probably happen to him. Someone high up in top brass at Warner Brothers would decide his movie was too long and cut it down to 1 hour and 56 minutes. I said, “They cut my movie!” He said, “What movie?” I was glad I could joke about it. In fact, I knew that it needed more tightening, less repetition. A literary tummy tuck or two. There were a lot of blank pages because of the complex format. Multiplied times 6000, a lot of trees would have died in vain. I braced myself over and over. It would be okay. I called back and asked that Maura be the revision editor, as this book was originally her vision, and as she saw the original draft and knew the material. At one point, Maura and I had gone through the manuscript and I had pointed out the paragraphs that were like trees I wanted to save. We put yellow ribbons around certain paragraphs in our mind. Now there was much more in the book, and there would be more issues.

We looked at the time and then ran for Shea Stadium to meet our party. We ran into Ken Gales (WBAI radio personality, Eco Logic, and many other shows. He is also an expert on comic books) and his wife Mercy Van Vlack on the way to our appointed meeting place. We were handed a baseball quiz handout by Jews for Jesus, and later stumped the great Trivia Buff Ken Gales with it. We met Shoshana and got good seats for $12 each. Mets won 7-4, beating the Los Angeles Dodgers. The game was a lot of fun, partly because Ken and Mercy had so many stories. In between innings, Mercy, who doesn’t go to a lot of live games, asked what the grounds crew were doing with the dirt on the field. I played a practical joke and pulled her leg, with a “true” story. My Mi’kmaq mother used to go to games, but stopped going, because she was mad. Why? Because those gardeners were trying so hart to plant those flowers on the mound and at the batters’ box, and even between the bases, but as soon as they were finished raking, out would come those mean bullies with their big cleats, stamping all over the flower beds. So she marched out of the stadium (which was RFK in another era) and never came back. Mercy paused for a moment, not sure if I was pulling her leg, or if my mother were pulling mine, or whether it was true. Then she decided to get mad too, but was she pulling my leg too? This was the same Mi’kmaq mother who, when playing Monopoly, would buy up one property from each color in order to block development. She was tired of all those tacky red and green hotels going up, cutting down all those trees, adding to global warming. So since you need to have all the properties in one color to put up a hotel, she was very effective in stepping in and stopping those hotels from rising up out of the dust. A born environmentalist. I told that story too, as the game continued.
We didn’t keep score, but I think Glavine was pitching for the Mets. After the game, we found Shoshana’s car, which people call “The Bluesmobile,” and it was illegally parked off Roosevelt St, and there was a ticket. She dropped off DLP, Ken and Mercy at a pizza place, then illegally parked again. We met them at the pizza place, but then I commented that getting a second ticket the same day makes it hard to dispute the first one. So she went back and moved her car again. It is very hard to park in NYC that day. She dropped Ken and Mercy off at the subway and then drove DLP and I to Queens. We listened to Steve Somers on WFAN, a real treat. His sophisticated, philosophical style of sports humor is one of the main inspirations for the later Metsfan site that DLP are working on amazine1.blogspot.com. Needless to say, the night owls flew across a moonlit sky and landed rather late in the nest.


Thursday, July 21st, 2005: Today, DLP and I had a special appointment with destiny—or not. We were supposed to go to Princeton and reveal the secrets of Velikofskyball to Science. We had an appointment with Brenda, and with Dr. Robert Jahn and his crew, of PEAR, and our goal was to go over and reword a paragraph in Stories of the Sacred about throwing dice and probability, quoting him, and also get former pitching star Robert Jahn to play Velikofsky with us.
We listened to Amy Goodman, then left Queens about 10, and Elyssa, Dr. Jahn’s secretary told us to take 278 through Staten Island, to take the Verrazzano, but when we got there, it was $9.00 to trip trap across Mike Blumberg’s bridge. We hit a lot of traffic; I quipped that we got more of our money’s worth, $9.00 for an hour is a better deal than $9.00 for ten minutes.
We missed the turn and went down Harrison street, and called Brenda on a cell phone for further directions. Even so we had to call several more times. Finally we found the little parking lot and went in.
On the inside office there was a saying written on a blackboard covered with Einstein-like equations. Navajo saying: When you put a thing in order, give it a name and you are all in accord, it becomes.” I grabbed that and wove it into the book during the next pass of edits. We talked to Brenda (who is Native American, but doesn’t know which tribe) about how we were following the Mets games for fun, and she told us how she has a gift for influencing baseball games, and told us a story about how she was sitting in the Detroit Tigers box with the owner and he was hoping for a miracle from a first at-bat from a young rookie to help his team. She prayed for the player and he had an excellent game. I asked who and she said, “Kirk somebody..” “Kirk Gibson?” I exclaimed. “Yeah, that’s the guy.” “I wrote two chapters about him in my baseball homerun book!” I exclaimed. That was certainly good luck.
She put in good thoughts for the Mets who were pitching Kaz Ishii, one of baseball’s worst, against Peavey of the Padres, one of baseball’s best. We would soon see how strong her baseball medicine was.
Brenda called Bob Jahn to tell him that we were there. The great Einstein of modern-day Princeton, Bob Jahn, walked in wearing an Angels hat, which was funny because the Angels were hosting the Yankees today and Mets fans don’t generally like Yankees, so it was a clever way of showing friendship.
We deliberated for some time over where to eat, like lawyers arguing over a merger, and then went out to Charley Browns for lunch because I wanted a salad bar. In the short time we were in the car, our only access to a radio, driving down the block, with the radio tuned to 660 WFAN, the Mets scored seven times and won the game 12-0. It was perhaps their most amazing rally of the season, and it happened so fast we got to hear almost all of it while driving to the nearest restaurant. We were cheering out loud and waving at Brenda. We looked at each other: “Her baseball medicine is strong!”
Brenda is an expert on probability theory and knows how to make the improbable happen. The odds against this kind of rally at that moment in time were a million to one.

Bob Jahn sat next to me at the table and I asked about his career. I was surprised to find he was the father of archaeo-accoustics, among other things. I had heard about the Caves of Lasccaux having caves that echoed at certain frequencies, but apparently he was the one who studied the acoustics at New Grange. He said that at many of these sites, the walls resonate with 110 hertz. I said, “That’s a low A!” Bob said, yes. He said that they were made to resonate with male voices. I said I’d read that cave paintings were generallyl in the most echoing areas, sometimes deep inside the earth, so it was presumed that chanting was done while viewing the painting.

Then he said that he was the pioneer in the field of plasma propulsion physics. I said,”Even if NASA hasn’t used plasma propulsion, you inspired about 300 science fiction writers.” He said, “Yeah, I know what you mean. But, actually, they are using my plasma propulsion on the Mars expedition.” I’m glad he is living long enough to see its success. Good science, like good writing, has its share of orphan projects.

After a big lunch at Charley Brown’s, we were guided to a nearby park, where there was a field of grass. It was extremely hot, and yet there was one strip of shade at the edge of the large field, and so we had little choice. DLP and I demonstrated Velikofskyball to Dr. Jahn, and to Brenda, and then he joined in. V’ball is a game where two players, each with a baseball of their own, stand about 100 feet or more apart and try to throw the balls at each other so that they collide in midair like planets in Velikofsky’s mad theories, bounce off, and come back to the glove of the person who threw it. The team earns a point for a sideways nick, two for one going sideways, three for one person catching, and four for both catching. He got a one pointer, but did not play very long as it was a very hot day, though we were in the shade. It took him a while to get used to the crosshanded catching that is part of the Velikofsky technique, but he enjoyed it very much. What is so fascinating about it is not the skill involved, although there is a lot, but the fact that no amount of skill alone can accomplish even a point. There must be some psychic connection between the players, and they must be able to tap into deliberately. Those players who are related or very gifted can accumulate a lot of points, whereas those who are not, don’t score anything.
Soon, we all needed a rest. Especially me. In fact I was at my worst for some reason. Sitting in the shade, Dr Jahn then drew a diagram for DLP and I on a piece of paper showing how when two particles collide in an atomic collider, whether they click and pass each other or collide and bounce back, it is impossible from the human perspective to tell, because the energy is the same. Velikofsky was a good illustration of that. DLP said, “But at that moment, can’t we tell if they are impacting or not?” Dr. Jahn said, somewhat myseriously, like Dr. Emmett Brown from DLP’s favorite movie Back to the Future: “In Quantum mechanics, there is no moment!” An unforgettable commentary on Velikofskyball by one of Quantum physics’ greatest lights. It made me realize that for Dr. Jahn, V’ball is a laboratory for Quantum mechanics, where our every thought influences the collision of atomic particles. Wow, what a great moment in mythobaseballogical history.

Brenda kept score at my request. I had never played Velikofskyball in front of a scorer before, in order to develop some statistical understanding of what was happening, but it had a terrible effect on my playing. DLP could tell right away. I said it felt like somatic interference. We did not score very highly. When we were just warming up we scored a 3 in 10 tries (.333 average) and then after Bob played, we scored pretty high, but while we were the focus of attention, nothing happened.

We went back to the office, and they had just got a feature in WIRED, who themselves were featured the same week in the NY Times, and so queries were coming in. One was from the Sun of Palm Beach. I said, “That’s not the South Florida Sun, that’s the tabloid you get while waiting in line at the grocers.” I said you can’t really trust a tabloid to tell the story straight. They weren’t sure, but in the end, decided it didn’t matter, and sent pictures and approved the story. As we left, we got a call back from CNN confirming the Sun was the tabloid and not the local paper. Elyssa’s picture would be the one that would stand next to JLO for a week, and I shook her hand and said it was great getting to know a future sex symbol.

Friday, July 22nd, 2005: DLP and I got some rest, I spent two hours on the phone, one with Mark Ogilbee, and one with outgoing PR exec Shelly Angers. I told Mark about our adventures in probability at Princeton, and he said that, as coincidence would have it, he went to Princeton Theological Seminary, a Presbyterian school that was on the campus, not far from the quad where we were.
Always interested in picking people’s brains about theology, I asked him if the doctrine of salvation was different in Presbyterian than Methodist, and he didn’t claim to know, but said, insightfully, that in Presbyterian theology, those who are chosen for salvation before birth will have what they call an [irrepressible attraction] to the Lord.. Then we burned through 12 important queries from the editors, and I answered them like Nomar in his prime handling 12 fielders choices on 12 pitches. Shelly and I talked about the Red Sox for a long time and then got down to business. I asked if Johnny Damon was Native American. She said that his mother was Thai, and that as far as she knew, he wasn’t native at all. I was surprised, and started trying to figure out a way to prove her right.
In August, with DLP back in Florida, I got my chance. A friend and old Tigers fan, Bill Spaulding, took me and friends out to the new Tigers Stadium CoAmerica Park, and we got nearly front row seats behind the Tigers dugout on a day when they were playing the first place Boston Red Sox, defending World Champions. Guess who led off the game for the visiting team? Johnny Damon, and batting left, so that we were facing each other, easily within shouting distance. I realized my one chance to determine the truth, a test that would change the course of Native American studies.
If Johnny had stayed on the Red Sox, I wouldn’t tell this story, but now that he’s a Yankee and cut his hair off, giving up his power, it doesn’t matter. I started calling out to him in Thai, in a funny sort of tone of voice, very formal and polite. “Han sabaidee leur?” (How are you feeling today, sir?)
His head jerked up and he stared at me as the pitcher was ready to pitch. “Strike one!”
“Sabai dee, kop!” I yelled, (I am feeling very well, thank you!) and he started to laugh out loud, still staring at me in disbelief.
You know ball players can’t wave at fans, but he did this sort of magical wave of his hand over the plate, which in ballplayer means, “I hear you.” He stared at me again, turning his head. He was asking himself, “Is he Thai? He doesn’t look Thai! How does he know my mother is Thai!”
“Strike TWO!” Yelled the ump, as the pitch from the Tigers whizzed by.
“Mai sabai?” I called out. (Are you not feeling well, my friend?) Then he was really staring at me, with a twisted expression on his face, laughing and puzzling. He nodded, then looked at the pitcher. He HAD to hit this one. He swung weakly, and knicked it and it rambled across the grass towards the second baseman, an easy out to lead off the game.
That set the tone, and the Red Sox were routed by the Tigers’ next to last place team. In the end the joke was on me. The Red Sox tied the Yankees at the end of the year for first, and the pennant was given to the Yankees for some dumb reason, because they had won the “season series,” whatever the heck that means. If the Red Sox had won that day, they would have won the pennant, if you’re into “what ifs” that’s a huge one. And because of that detail, the Red Sox did not make enough money to keep Johnny and so he joined the Yankees. Well, of course, that’s all speculation, just to make a good story, and in fact any game that year between the Sox and Yanks could have gone either way. But Johnny kept staring at me during his second and third at bat, and it started to make me self-conscious. My unwarned friend Bill had no idea what was going on. He leaned over and said, “I can’t believe you got such a reaction from Damon! You really shook him up. What the heck are you saying?”
“Oh, nothing! Just polite conversation…in Thai!”
“Why?”
“To find out if he is Thai or Native American…”
“I guess he’s Thai.”
The people in front of us were real Tigers fans and were amused. It turns out they knew Al Kaline and a number of other players, so we talked baseball.
Anyway, that was what came out of my conversation with Shelly Angers.
Then went to see the Raymondskill Falls site, on the old Minisink-Wyoming Trail and we waded in the water in the upper falls, and found a crayfish. I realized that the news of the Chinese hwang unpegging from the US dollar must have reached Wall Street on Wednesday afternoon, the same time as I heard from Mark Ogilbee at Skylight Paths that the book was going to be shortened. We went to the little cave, and then the lower falls. Then we went along the part of the Wyoming Minisink Trail which was still in its original state, and followed it to the banks opposite Minisink Island, and waded in the Delaware. The water was very warm, but we found cold springs of water coming up from the mud. There were a lot of very small fish there as well. Then we went to Milford Beach and walked around. Then we went to the seafood restaurant and had some excellent “New England style” food.

Saturday, July 23rd DLP and I got to view the video clips we took in Quebec City with the borrowed digital camera. Although mostly designed for stills, these new cameras to take nice short vid clips. We got a late start in PA, but went to Falcon Ridge, New York for one of the best annual folk music concerts in the world. We missed some good sets that morning, mainly we missed Jay Mantika’s first and only complete set, but caught Susan Webber’s show for kids. Then we went to the dance tent and DLP danced the Makarena with me, showing me the moves, and then got Ellis to dance a little bit. Everyone had fun. The band “Gandalf” was very good, playing fun music to dance to in all styles. The pianist played one song like a tango that was based on chopsticks. I caught the similarity and danced with my fingers doing the moves of chopsticks on an “air piano” in pantomime. The pianist started staring at me and laughing, and was so surprised that he actually missed a beat. Sorry about that. Another Johnny Damon! (only that was later)
Then we went back to the family tent to hear Jay Mantika. I walked up and introduced myself and he recognized me and smiled. I asked if he had a new Cd and he said yes, several, and he said “Go to the merchandising tent, and find a man named Rick. Tell him that the secret code word is Rocket Jay Squirrel (this wasn’t it, or nearly as intriguing, but I can’t give the secret name away), and that you want to swap one of your Cd s for one of mine. Tell him Jay sent you.” I agreed.
He had a guest band playing with him including Pearly Gates, an older woman who did amazing trumpet solos just using her mouth, and Mark Dan, a bass player, plus a guy name Mike and a girl who played fiddle whose last name was Mike. It was a great set, and I heard “Dogs are Watching Us,” “Visitors from Outer Space,” and other great new songs. His girl Tracy was there. I walked up afterwards and talked to all the players, and we exchanged info.
Later, Ellis and I went to the tent; it took three tries, but finally I met with Rick.
We heard a great set by a young wunderkind named Susan Warner from Iowa, and her song about them making a movie about her life was unforgettable and funny. She sat while she performed, with both guitar and piano, and had a great voice. Dar Williams came on afterwards and we felt she did not have nearly the musical talent or presence of this 22 year old Susan Warner. But Dar Williams is incredibly popular and everyone knew her songs to sing along, which was great, and Dar had a lot to say about politics and current events that was welcomed by the audience.
I got info on two radio stations, WFUV and one other, for possible book interviews later.I was thinking about this blog idea while listening to the music, and thought of “Spirit is Everywhere,” which didn’t quite work, and “Evan’s Earthwalk,” which did sort of work. I enjoyed sitting in the sun, eating snacks, listening to great music that was so topical, and also thinking how I was going to change the world with this crazy blog, making a movie, of sorts, about my life. Thanks Susan Warner!
We saw Paul and Storm, who had a Beatles-like sound, pop poet Chris Chandler, Susan Warner, Tracy Grammer, Lowen and Navarro, Crooked Still, Dar Williams, Eddie from Ohio (Eddie himself was absent) and Railroad Earth. All of which are recommended.
We were dressed for hot weather, but as night fell it started to get cool. Some time during Crooked Still the temperature dropped again. Then as Dar Williams began there was a cold wind from our right, and I realized we were in trouble. I grabbed the flashlight and walked back to the car. It was further away than I remembered. I got the sleeping bag and brought it back, missing four songs or so, but by that time Ellis was shivering and DLP was cold as well, so it was the right move. We were comfortable under the sleeping bag, but the ground was cold. DLP found a black leather jacket for $8 and it kept him warm. When we left, we got up quickly to get to the bathroom and accidentally left the flashlight behind. We returned to look for it, and it was gone. We listened to our new CDs as we drove back to Saugerties.

Sunday, July 24th 2005, Listened for the first time to Vance Gilbert’s CD album One through Fourteen. Great vocals, but less guitar than usual. I bought it at the Falcon Ridge Festival. I first saw him live at Clearwater Festival, and was truly amazed at what he could do both with the solo guitar and voice at the same time. I doubt anyone alive today can equal it. His songs such as “Christine,” and the a capella “Am I Shepherd or Sheep?”are among the most unforgettable songs ever penned. I first heard “Christine” live at Clearwater some years ago and you could have knocked me over with a feather. Later I ran into him walking around in the booths, and got to talk to him. I have been a fan every since. But I think you have to hear him live to fully appreciate what a one man orchestra and chorus he is.
Got in at 2 AM, all slept late, DLP in cabin. He went for sandwiches while I worked on Algonquin gathering info. Then DLP and I played some our best Velikofsky, and revised the point system, so that catches count as extra points. We had 2 pts in 11 catches, 2 pts in 3, 1 pt in 5 catches 1 pt in 13 and 3 pts in 6 catches. When Ellis was watching and keeping score we got 2 pts in 5 catches and 2 pts in 6 catches, but then we choked. It seems to be hard to be “in the zone” when someone else is watching and keeping score. That takes practice.
We listened to the pregame show and then it was time to leave, but the transistor radio didn’t work well in the car. Mets 2 Dodgers O. We listened for the first time to Jay Mankita’s new CD Dogs Are Watching Us, and also to the tribute album for Lucie Bennex ((check name). Both were good. She says, “Strike me down with your electric sword!” (Apparently they did, as she is now dead.)
We watched the last half of the game on TV in PA, 6 to 0, a big win for the Mets. I began the evansearthwalk blog at about 4 pm after the game, based on mental notes I’d been taking for a week.
DLP and I went out for a long walk and as a way to sharpen our memories, we tried to reconstruct the last four years of Mets batting lineups in our minds, to make up for the time we were apart when he was living in Florida.
Then we played Velikofsky in the yard, we had dinner and I treated for icecream, at the local ice cream shop and then watched Michael Moore’s Roger and Me, which movieguy DLP had never seen. He liked the way the pieces were edited together.
Today, Betsy Stang sent out an email saying that William Commanda was in the hospital with a heart attack. I received it on Monday morning. I had a shaken, sad feeling that I have never had before when hearing about William’s various bouts with death. This is so close to the gathering.

Monday, July 25th, 2005: I slept in at the Crazy Horse Ranch and then read a lot from a book called Bill Stern’s Favorite Baseball Stories. I checked messages and read about William Commanda’s heart attack on the internet. It was very upsetting. I couldn’t reach anyone on the phone. Today was the day I had set aside to plan and organize the Algonquin Leadership Conference for Maniwaki next month, but couldn’t. As it turns out, it was soon cancelled due to William’s health situation. I let DLP sleep in and made some prayers. We got in the car and drove to MD. I knew that the drive would help me put things in perspective. As it was beastly hot, and my coolant wasn’t up to snuff, we decided to take the western route, 84 to 83 to 81 through Harrisburg. After deciding that, it also occurred to me that just west of that route I had a cousin Mary who was a professor of film, and that DLP and she should meet. I called but got no answer. Then DLP said “Let’s go to Grandma’s Restaurant in Frackville,” great idea for anyone who has ever been hungry. So we did. It was great.
One way to find it is to follow the signs for the Dutch Kitchen, which is a knockoff of Grandmas, but then don’t go there, turn right and go a couple blocks, drive real slow and look for the giant grandma on your right, down at the end of a parking lot. We had a lot of food for dirt cheap, and nice service. It’s an old fashioned Americana place like no other, where you are likely to hear some Piedmont accents. We talked during the whole ride and over dinner about the definition of ethnicity and what an American ethnicity might be. He made some good points I had not considered before. I have generally taken the stance that there is no American culture or ethnicity other than Native American, and he said that any development of ethnic identity that happened “in America” after an ethnicity moves to America or hybridizes here, that part is American ethnicity. It doesn’t have to relate to Native Americans. I questioned if such a culture would have developed a context in which nonverbal communication could be clearly understood, such as you find in most long-lasting ethnicities, and he hadn’t considered that. We agreed that most ethnicities try to establish some sort of nationhood or state in order to preserve their culture and values and inherent political system, and that America contained many of these, or contained communities connected to such states, although those states usually exist outside America’s borders.
We also talked about regional accents, such as “country” accents, and I said that most of them in America derived from either Tidewater accents, Piedmont accents, or Appalachian accents. I was able to state a case that by coincidence of history, there was a connection between accent and altitude! At least when it comes to “country” accents.
Most Tidewater accents stayed in the tidewater regions of the mid Atlantic, as there are no other similar geographies further inland, but that the Piedmont accent spread throughout the Piedmont Plateau, and then to the foothills on the other side of the Appalachians. I also made a case that the Appalachian accent also spread to similar mountainous regions of the US, including the Ozarks, the Smokies, and Alleghenies. We also noted that musical styles somewhat coincided with accent regions. Texas was a mix of many “country” accents with a few twists of its own. I called Mary, from Frackville, and accurately estimated that we could be there in an hour, at seven PM. She said she had to meet with someone but could be back by eight. So we drove to Shamokin, an area rich with Munsee history, and saw a men’s softball game in progress. We were rat thur sittin’ on them bleachers and enjoyin’ some of the purtiest Piedmont accents to be heard anywheres! The number three became thuray, and the g was entirely missing from ING endin’s for most of the team. We were smack dab in the middle of the heart of the of the Piedmont Dialectical Region alright! Dang!
We watched for a half hour then I took some slide photos of the Shamokin River, plus an unusual foot bridge that was basically a long pipe across the river with hand cables, and then we arrived at Mary’s town at about 8:15.
We had a great time at Mary’s, playing baseball with her five year old son. Although the field was the size of a small back yard and we just had a whiffle ball and bat, I did the play by play as if it was Fenway Park. We did one game with the current Red Sox lineup, then I switched to the Red Sox’ 1969 lineup, then we went back to 1949. Mary’s son didn’t know the difference except it was Red Sox, but Mary and her husband Larry were chuckling as they are old time Sox fans.
Then we went inside and there were some guitars and so we had a big jam session that went on for a while. Then later other people dropped by to listen, some interesting folks, at it was quite the party. We got into a discussion about screenplays, as Mary teaches the art and DLP is majoring in cinema in college, and then Larry and I talked about the new book Native American Stories of the Sacred. Larry is a professor like me, teaching literature and linguistics, etc. and used to be involved in a Jewish Literature Bookstore and knew Skylight Paths publisher Stewart Maitlin when he was much younger, starting out with Jewish Lights, the parent company and basically gave him two thumbs up and it made me glad, or more glad, that I’d chosen to get on board with Skylight. There were a number of coincidental connections between Larry and I, other than the fact that he married my number one cousin.

Soon, there were lots of people of all ages in the living room, and having a great time, but it got to be late, and we still had to get from Selinsgrove to Greenbelt. So we jumped back in the car and headed for home away from home. We got in really, really, really late. But there’s no word for time at my house.

Tuesday, July 26th, 2005: I got on the phone after sleeping in a while, and eventually found that William Commanda was in moderate condition. It was the worst heart problem of his life, and so all are very concerned. But he wasn’t in critical care any more and did not need heart surgery. However the Leadership Conference I was going to help host was definitely cancelled. The status of the Spiritual Elders Gathering was good, there were no cancellations; the mood was “wait and see.”
Wednesday, July 27th, 2005: DLP and I play sandlot ball. We talked a lot about movies. We worked on a scene based on a memorable incident from his childhood when I was coaching him. He was missing a lot of grounders at short, and I walked over and took the glove from his hand and said, “You’re not keeping your eye on the ball. You expect the glove to catch the ball for you. It won’t! Now field those grounders without a glove. You’ll see everything differently. I promise!” DLP was about 7 years old, and that was a turning point for him. He found that he played grounders better without the glove, because he kept his eye on the ball. He later played Little League for a mini-Mets team in Florida called the Cubs and got into a championship, and later went to Mets baseball summer camp. Here he was, 18 and rusty, and he was still missing a few. I went over and said I was going to take the glove away, and then we both said, ”What a great movie scene that would be, only it would be a rookie on a big league ball club.” We acted it out, with a different flavor, a Vince-Lombardi-meets-baseball flavor in fact, and it was great. Wished we coulda filmed it. At the end, DLP says “now throw the glove at me hard and say, ‘So now use that glove like a ballplayer’s supposed to!” I did, and we had a good laugh.

Thursday, July 28th, 2006: I worked more on editing Stories of the Sacred.
Friday, July 29th, 2006 Didn’t keep notes. We went to see a movie.
Saturday, July 30th, DLP got a morning flight back to Florida, and our trip for the summer was over.

Sunday, July 31st, no notes.
Monday, August 1st: no notes
Tuesday, August 2nd, Today was the day the first typesetting of Native American Stories of the Sacred was due back at Skylight Paths. As I recall I made this deadline. There was always so much to do.
Wednesday, August 3rd. I headed for Canada to attend the Spiritual Elders Gathering. It was a long drive and I rested at the Thunderbird Motel.
Thursday, August 4th, 2005; Reached Maniwaki by nightfall. There was so much to do, so many people to talk to.
Friday, August 5th, 2005: An important day in my life. I spoke at the elder’s gathering about the prophecies. Grandfather Turtle (who is featured in No Word For Time) showed up unexpectedly at the Elders Gathering with his wife-to-be, S.B. a Mi’kmaq relative of mine and friend of my sisters’. I introduced him to William Commanda, although they had met briefly, probably twenty years ago, at a gathering with Albert Lightning. William was obviously not in top shape, considering his recent heart problem, but it went well.
I was late for the sunrise pipe ceremony due to several complications, but though I brought a pipe it was so crowded there was no way to get inside the circle and find a place to sit down on the ground with the other pipe carriers, so I just watched. There was a woman on the other side of the circle who kept drawing my attention, as there was this great aura of white light around her in every direction, but I didn’t speak to her.William Commanda could not do ceremony today, so the legendary Dominiq Rankin had volunteered to step in that morning and lead. He is a good leader and gives everyone space. I was too late to find that space however.
I was able to get into a sweat lodge later that evening. With guy from west Vancouver. He used Scott as his helper. It was a long sweat. A girls whole family died, and she had come into the sweat for healing. The elder did not hesitate but knew exactly what to do. It was one of the longer sweats, and most of the types of ceremony was not that familiar to me, I think he referred to it as a horse lodge.


Saturday, August 6th, 2005: Peter asked guy from the United States to lead, he was Mi'kaq as I am, and he led but didn’t know, kept asking how we did things on this reserve, which was respectful. Grandmother masrguerita kept talking.
I gave an oration, part in Micmac part in English, and the pipe leader was surprised, hearing my Micmac. Again there was the spirit woman across the way.
Later I ran into her and talked. I felt an angelic presence around her. It was the woman who had just made a film, about William. I mentioned there were spirit beings all around her in great numbers, and she patted her belly and said that she was expecting, and introduced me to her husband, "Joseph." They told me that the baby would be due around Christmas, and that it was a very special child. I was taken out of my body and given a vision of this and could hardly speak. It was too much to describe or take in, but I shook their hands and said it was a great honor for me to meet them. I was off in a dream world for several hours afterwards, and it brought tears to my eyes. My feet could not find the ground, my heart was in heaven and I was happy, surrounded by friends and adopted family.

Later that day, I gave teachings under blue tent, discussing the future of algonquini people (at 1:30)but didfint I invited Watie and Larry McDermott to discuss "Algonquin Culture, It's Past and its future for rrps and all how to establish a definition of algonquin culture, what it is as=nd is bit to insure pres of apg cuyl I didn’t talk, guy wanted to take picture, I refused. Danced under arbor sat
I saw Omar our local Midewiwin subchief, and I asked why he wasn't there at the morning pipe ceremony. Apparently, noone gave him tobacco. I didn't have any on me, but asked him to teach me about leading the pipe ceremony. I had seen Lee in the circle take over the ceremony to talk about the details of his personal life, without sharing his prayers as well, I had felt that one should always pray when holding the pipe or in ceremony and wanted his wisdom on this. He said I would have to learn to lead the pipe, and do the pipe ceremony by trial and error.
Leonardo was there to translate, and to Leonardo he said don’t be afraid; you need to learn to lead the pipe too. These were to be prophetic words from Omar's lips. This is not unusual for Omar.
We got a teaaching about the pipe from Omar. He said "you know how to do it." Then we asked William Commanda. He said, "Every time you hold the pipe you should pray, and when you lead the pipe ceremony, your main responsibility is to pray for the people. If there are many in the circle, they cannot all speak, you must speak for them and pray to the Creator.

That night I had a dream that the baby girl was a prophet and that she was now four years old in the dream, and I was taking her to all the major capitols of the world as her body guard and lecture manager. She was speaking to huge audiences at length, speaking great wisdom beyond her years or mine, and the crowds were going wild. She was speaking about the future and about the dangers facing mankind, and what to do. It was an amazing dream, and I remembered having great concern and love for this child who was not my own. Five months later, when the news came out of England that Lovelock had given the human race 100 years, and that the earth changes were happening rapidly, that dream came back to me. This must be what she was talking about to all those people. Her voice was like a melody.

Sunday, August 7th, 2005: I had been told many years ago by Rick Jarow, that according to my astrology, my 49th year would be rather momentous and I was destined around that time to make an impression on the course of history. At the beginning of my 49th year was the Algonquin Leadership Conference. THis was the end of that 49th year. This Elder’s Gathering was one I would never forget. This Sunday was one of the most important days of my life, and this morning's ceremony was truly inspirational for me. I have seen over the years that one of the true marks of the Algonquin elder or wisdom keeper is the ability to be a peacemaker, to solve conflicts. They come up unexpectedly and with surprising and unfamiliar elements.

Amid some strife on the reservation over ceremony, I was asked to lead the sunrise pipe ceremony. Peter set the water vessel in front of me and Peter a man of incredibly few words, said, "You're doin the pipe!" It was a great honor, but I also saw a great danger. There was a “water ceremony” faction, led by women, and a “pipe ceremony” faction, led by men, and I wanted to find a way to do both at the same time. With a few people, we could do the pipe and then the water, or visa versa, but with so many hundreds of people, throngs of people wanting to partake in the Algonquin sacriments, it was impossible to do them back to back, but the water and fire had to be in balance. I asked others for advice but no one would offer any. They weren't supposed to be mixed. And I had to work out a solution by sunrise, which was imminent. There was a bright light in the east, and it was getting brighter. God's clock was ticking. I went over to Leonardo William, who was sitting in the sunrise spot, and asked him to help me work out a new protocol between the men and women.

Later, I ran into the parents of the “angel” girl, and told them some of what I’d seen. They said they’d seen a lot of miraculous things since X became pregnant. The woman said that she’d left France and traveled all over the world looking for a man who would be a good father to this child, and it took years but she finally found him in Montreal. And the child is on the way. I asked him if he was part Algonquin, and he said he probably was. And I asked her if she was related by descent to the royal houses of France, such as the Bourbon, and she said yes. Then I said that they must reread Nostradamus’ prophecies, as he said that the great being (second coming?) would be born in the Province (note the I not E, so he is not speaking of Provence, France, but of the Province of Quebec, which didn’t exist then!) and that this child would be descended from the house of the Bourbon. Then I said that in Revelations the mother of the holy child of the 21st century escapes the urban centers and goes to the wilderness to protect her child. We were in wilderness now. I said, “where is there more wilderness in North America than in Quebec?” I did not say it was conclusive, but that there seemed to be a possibility something special was happening, and offered them a copy of Paths of Light Paths of Darkness and exchanged contact info. This book, which I wrote in 2003 and early 2004 talks about the Algonquin prophecies and how they dovetail with Nostradamus and John and all seem open to the possibility of an Algonquin-born second coming. And the Hopi prophecies say it will be a woman who will lead them. So here is the possibility that all four prophecies could link together.

In the evening, my friends and I danced at the closing giveaway ceremony dance, and I met some new people.

Monday, August 8th; Today was the date we had set aside for the Algonquin Leadership Meeting, but due to William’s health, it was cancelled. We found ourselves back in Gatineau, and just rested from an incredible few days.

Tuesday, August 9th: A week or two earlier, I had gotten a call from Council Oak books to call this book store called Hoss’s’ Country Corners about a signing event. I called, and it turns out the store was at Long Lake near Tupper Lake, basically in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the Adirondack Park Region, on August 9th, at 5 PM, and it turned out that it just so happened that I would be passing through that remote corner of the universe at that very hour. They offered free food, so I took it. It was quite an experience. I arrived from Ottawa just at 5, and was directed towards a picnic spot, where we had free food, consisting of burgers and such. We were then directed towards free ice cream at the Hoss’ Country Corners Ice Cream Shop, which was good, and I talked to other authors. Then I went back to the red and white striped canopy and found my table with copies of Native New Yorkers on it, and proceeded to sign books at quite a clip, enjoying conversations with many other authors, all of whom had also written about New York State. It was fun. Native New Yorkers sold very well, and I cleared most of the table. I ended up buying a book on Native Americans in the Adirondacks, which was a little expensive. I chatted with this lovely older woman for a while, and said it was a nice event. The woman shook my hand and said, “Thanks a bunch! I’m Hoss!” That was a surprise! Hoss’ Country Corners is actually about eight or so different buildings on all sides of an important intersection, selling all different kinds of things. It was quite an enterprise!
I went inside the shop and bought a few items. I saw they had a large number of Michael Caduto’s books for sale. Just that day I’d gotten a call from Mark saying that a wonderful blurb (for NASS) from Michael Caduto had just come in via email. Then I headed home, sad that such a wonderfilled trip was ending.


August 13th MCI powwow in DC. It was during this powwow that I learned that the lime green day glo regalia, produced by a single company, was sweeping the powwow circuit and driving out traditional outfits, as they looked too dull by comparison. I later used this image in my writing for Ramapo College’s gallery portfolio write up, for the photos of Lauren Piperno.

August 14th We went to the Museum of the American Indian on the mall, and saw the movie and everything else. It was fun. It was designed by my friend Douglas Cardinal, an Anishinabi elder, and he worked on it for years, but the Bush people stripped him of all credit and started claiming that he didn't finish it. They gave credit to some guy Davey Jones (a pseudonym?) But the outside was clearly his work, very natural. And he was pretty angry about it at one point, but calmed down. Douglas is an inspirational figure to the Green Architecture movement. During this visit all that was farthest from my mind, and I was wondering why I kept runing into architects, when I lost interest in that in college. When I was workign on the global warming article in February, it became clear in a vision that architects were the answer to saving the planet; city office buildingand apartments etc museums, were the only things with enough surface space to soak in and transform all the carbon pollution! And Douglas was part of that solution.