A letter to my brother. Who had a run in with a non-compliant, anti-masker;
Dear Joe,
When they intubate a COVID patient it’s like a scene from the movie alien. A face hugger like myriad of tubes and breathing apparatus’ covers their faces. They’re hooked up to a shit load...
of modules and pumps. The only recourse doctors here have are to infuse the infected with massive amounts of antibiotics and hope and pray their immune systems are able to do the rest. Sometimes it works and the patient lives. But most of the time, death prevails....
They all die alone. What I find most utterly horrific is the sounds they make. A person dying from COVID emits a gurgling noise, you can hear their lungs struggling to flex beneath the enormous weight of the virus. As if they are drowning in their own blood and saliva..
It’s an incredibly terrifying experience I will carry with me the rest of my life. It’s traumatic. Depressing. Sad.
Please wear your mask at all times. And stay the fuck away from those too stupid to simply comply with CDC safety protocols. I don’t care what happens to them...
Anti-maskers made their decision. They are not my concern. You, on the other hand, are my brother.
Love, bro John
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Faith’s arrival into this chaotic world was timed perfectly. White buffalo calf’s are heavy medicine. She will help bring a pervasive measure of cleansing to a planet in the grips of a global pandemic, political turmoil and ecological devastation. Hanhepi was’te, good evening.
‘Lakota prophecy foretold how the birth of a white buffalo calf would be a sign that it would be near the time when she would return again to purify the world. What she meant by that was that she would bring back harmony again and balance, spiritually.’
My mother would have been 84 today. She made the journey in 2007. Love you, miss you mom, with all my heart.
Your son,
John 🤍🎂✨
Both my parents were orphaned at an early age. After their boarding school internment they met and fell in love in Rapid City, South Dakota. My mother lived in her unci’s (grandmother’s) house by herself when she was only 14. My dad was 14 too. All they had were each other.
My mother became pregnant at 16 so my dad worked two jobs to support them. He would unload sacks of potatoes at the train station from dusk till dawn. Then go home, have breakfast, shower and go to his day job. My father had an incredibly strong work ethic. He then joined the AF.
B/c the criminal Trump has proven time and again that he is, in fact, a menace to the Native community.
I’d love nothing more than to vote for a leader who possesses a higher degree of compatibility with the Native recovery agenda. A man or woman who legit respects and is knowing of the cultural and historical narrative vis-a-vis colonization and it’s residual traumatic affects.
A collection of oral history from the Lakota/Cheyenne/Arapaho perspective.
“Crazy Horse rode up to Short Bull after the first Reno fight, Short Bull said, "niȟ’aŋ hí yeló. Kičhízap kiŋ hí nayašna yeló"
“Too late, you've missed the fight.”