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| Butchart Gardens, Victoria BC |
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| Gum Wall, Pike Market Seattle |
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| Pike Place Market |
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| Juneau, Alaska |
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| Seattle, Washington |
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| Artwork: Daphne Mennall |
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| Gravesite of Harriet Pullen, Skagway railway Alaska- I had to do some hiking and bushwacking off the trail to find Harriet's Grave. I have been reading her role in the history of the Gold Rush. Another Strong woman that I admire. |
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| Butchart Gardens, Victoria BC |
I am in Winnipeg. It is indigenous peoples day here in Canada, with festivities including art, music, food and more. Celebrations, stories, and remembering all taking place at the confluence of the Assiniboine and Red River of the North.
I am struck this year by the Red Dress Project, which centers on Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women. #MMIW Statistically, Native women are trafficked, assaulted and murdered at higher rates than any other demographic. According to the National Institute of Justice, native women are 10 times more likely to be murdered than the general US population, The Center for Disease Control reports murder is the 3rd leading cause of death for native girls under age 20.
I found myself walking the greenway the morning following all the events, when I heard shouting coming from the River. Who is swimming in these frigid waters I thought? Recreational swimming is not recommended in the Red River. I was some distance from the water and couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Then, I saw her, floating, silent now, moving with the swift current, her shoes floating along beside her. Her long black hair and small frame, so vulnerable. Meanwhile, the greenway was bustling with people, dogs and bicycles. But, I couldn’t focus on anything but her.
I watched. I wondered, does she need help? Why is she swimming in these frigid waters? And why are others not concerned about this situation?
The Red river is wide in Winnipeg. Very wide and she was quite far away from me. I called out to her, she didn’t seem to hear me, so I changed my direction and started running with the flow of the river. I got off the greenway path and closer to the shore, jumping over logs and tall grasses. I got closer to her and called out again and again.
“Do you need help?”
The wide waters seemed to absorb my voice.
Then, Finally:
“Of course I need help!, what does it look like?” she called.
I dialed 911- hoping it was a universally recognized emergency number in Canada.
On the phone with the dispatcher I continued to scan the river for signs of life.
I couldn’t hear her well. But I did hear her yell out “Gabby”. Then it struck me. She is looking for someone. Someone else was out there!
The dispatcher told me to keep my eyes on her- and if she goes under to keep my eyes on that spot. Chills went up my spine as I intently watched her and tried to keep up with the flow, I was more than a mile from where I started following her.
The dispatcher kept asking for landmarks, and names of bridges and streets, of which I am not familiar.
I tried to keep my eyes on her as I bushwhacked through the vines and trees, passing through empty homeless camps. The river moves swiftly.
After several minutes I heard sirens. Paramedics and water rescue had arrived. I directed them to the young woman and water responders helped her into the boat.
A young, shivering native woman walked up the bank with a rescue worker on each side holding her steady. And still she wanted to turn back and look for Gabby.
How did she and Gabby end up in those cold water fully clothed with shoes? It doesn't seem like something one would choose.
Drones were soon searching the area. I still don’t know if Gabby was found alive.
I almost walked away from the woman I thought to be swimming. I thought she was yelling to a friend. She WAS yelling to her friend. In many ways it just looked like a little rough and tumble recreation. But the more I was drawn in the more I could see and feel the frightening reality.
Bicycles and joggers continued to pass by. People walking dogs. Oblivious.
I don’t know how much longer she could have made it in the cold water before hypothermia would set in. Ironic that it is was Indigenous Peoples day or maybe synchronicity.
May I, may we all, be more mindful of Native women, sisters, friends.
May no more mothers mourn their daughters death because we were not listening. #MMIW
Native women isolation
Culture stolen
Incognation
Mothers scorned
And forgotten
Daughters born
Misbegotten
Torn away
Abused neglected
Drowning dying
Force subjected
Ancestors
Born of the land
Posterity
Later banned
A girl drowning
Plunging screaming
A world ignores
Goes on mainstreaming
The River flows on
Howling fades
Another life taken
duty evades
Stand up now
Don’t be deceived
Listen to women
Actuality believed
It’s time for change
With you it begins
Silent bystanding
Never wins
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| RubyCatherine and Simone had fun all weekend. |
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| I ran into my friend Laura in Bemidji. We went to high school together in Pocatello, Idaho. Synchronicity. We had been pleasantly surprised to bump into each other 10 years ago in Bemidji as well. |
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| Spring is springing I first noticed the Lilies coming up 24 March 2019. |
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| Hap, hap, hap Happy Birthday. Elias I love you more than words can say. You give me purpose. Your light shines bright. |
Today marks day 13 of Tahlequah, carrying the lifeless body of her new calf, born on Christmas Eve. Again she grieves. Tahlequah, an endan...
