Advertising’s Ubiquity

Posted on April 11, 2016 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

thrid try

The word of the day in our propaganda class is ubiquity.

Advertising, we learned, is ubiquitous.

Borrowed from the Latin, by way of the French, ubique refers to “everywhere.”

Students understand advertising completely, offering examples from the logos on football jerseys to the display ads in college cafeterias.

Some ads are slightly more subtle, such as the paper bag that contains the medicine packed by your local pharmacy, encouraging you to buy an over-the-counter antihistamine.

This week we learned our neighbor state of Washington approved advertisements in the state parks.

The decision is borne by a lack of funding. Continue reading →

Posted in advertising, american indian, censorship, ethics, propaganda | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Haiku: Indian Brains

Posted on April 10, 2016 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

 

black hawk brown

Drop seeds into skull,

 

Fill the void, count the seeds,

 

That’s your brain, your smarts.

 

#30poemsin3days

Posted in 30poemsin30days, american indian | Leave a comment

Harnessed

Posted on April 9, 2016 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

You somehow

Got tangled in your harness

Wrapped in a nylon belt

Lassoed through and through

How did you do this, I asked

You whimpered

Fix it, don’t touch me.

Pair of shears

Should do it.

But nothing doing.

You bolted out the screen door

Nose first

Harness-wrapped.

I found a muzzle

But nothing doing.

I found a blanket.

Honey held you fast while you bit and barked

I snipped the harness free.

Relief at last,

While you perfect your pout.

 

#30poemsin30days

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in american indian | Leave a comment

Inspiration

Posted on April 8, 2016 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

garden lilac

I placed some of our lilac cuttings in a vase for inspiration as I consider today’s poem.

Our Pacific Northwest flowers are a delicate pink: not purple like the pictures that adorn air freshener products for your bathroom.

Local lilacs are called Syringa vulgaris.

Syringa refers to the branches: flutes, pipes or syringes—from which indigenous people made pipes.

The Miwok used the plants for baskets. Continue reading →

Posted in 30poemsin30days, american indian, Indian, Miwok, native press | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

A Poem a Day

Posted on April 8, 2016 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

poetry-sm

When I signed up for the 30 Poems in 30 Days challenge, I didn’t know it would alter my daily outlook.

Like a Buddhist I set my intention for the day, which takes the form of a poem.

But there’s a chasm between the intention and the poem.

No matter how sincerely I approach the intention (pay more heed, listen better, be kind) the poem has its own ideas.

It writes itself, regardless of my intention.

 

Old Ern

Driving Old Ern

Bus-like

On the edge of my seat

So my toes meet the pedals.

Just barely.

A tank, a

Chevy, of course,

Bashed-in rear

Taped up mirror

No clock.

Born in 2003

Once used to haul kids

Now a place to sleep

Between gigs.

Oh no

Not me,

I’m just the van-sitter

While the kids are away.

But behind the wheel

I pretend this is my

Band van.

Outta my way.

 

#Chevyvan

#30poemsin30days

Posted in 30poemsin30days, american indian | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Bonanza

Posted on April 7, 2016 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery
nd09_westerns_250

Cast of Bonanza

I caught a bug somewhere between Portland and Albuquerque, so I’m feeding it hot tea, aspirin, soup and ice cream.

With the aim of getting a sympathetic response from my husband, I take my temperature often, but it never even hits 98.

I just don’t run fevers, which confuse the doctors when I’ve encountered pneumonia and appendicitis.

They shake their heads.

My symptoms fail to comport with their expectations.

Today’s poem emerged from my bout with the bug.

 

Fever

Fevers avoid me

My body’s perfect pitch: 97 point 4

Point 5

Point 6

Point 7.

My honey burns his fevers high:

99

100

101.

He emerges

Cool.

In the old TV Westerns

Like Bonanza

Women who

Loved the Cartwright boys

All died

One by one

From fever sweats

Lying on soaked sheets

They perished.

That’s what you get

If you’re a white girl

On Bonanza.

 

#30poemsin30days

#Bonanza

Posted in 30poemsin30days, american indian | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

When Hope Diminishes

Posted on April 5, 2016 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

brown tea

When the writer and neurologist Oliver Sacks learned his death was certain, he wrote that he was going to stop reading the daily news.

Reading and listening to the news each morning is a long-held routine, yet I think it has the effect of fraying my nerves.

I start with page one of the Times, where stories report on shootings, bombings, deaths and immoral politicians.

My hope diminishes. Continue reading →

Posted in 30poemsin30days, american indian, poetry, zen | 1 Comment

Poetry: Day Three

Posted on April 4, 2016 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery
browning

Poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

The third day of poem-writing looms.

I wonder what’s the purpose is of poetry.

True: I am a writer; but not a poet.

I don’t know the theories or the patterns or the literature.

So I’m stuck with one notion only: that poems should express your feelings.

After listening to Luci Tapahonso read her poetry in Navajo country, I realized that she was telling stories.

Something we all do.

I will endeavor to tell stories in wee packages.

Here is Day Three’s entry:

Dessert

Chocolate, vanilla and caramel:

Tucked in cartons.

Frozen treats

We split each evening

Spoonful by spoonful.

I leave town

For a few days.

(Business)

And return to find

One lonely container.

And vanilla at that.

Sigh.

At least there’s something left.

Sigh.

A tablespoon at best.

Sigh.

And I share

After all.

Posted in american indian | 1 Comment

Where the state tree is a telephone pole

Posted on April 4, 2016 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

PAM_ZIG-JACKSON_INDIAN-ON-BUS.jpgThe state tree is a telephone pole, he joked.

Zig Jackson (Mandan) began his story at the beginning: growing up in Fort Berthold, North Dakota.

Few trees and a lot of telephone poles in that part of the state, he said.

Jackson and his nine brothers and sisters were raised on the reserve that clumped together the Mandan, Hidatsa and Arikara people.

The reservation became home to the triumvirate of tribes in the 1930s after Missouri floods flattened government-allotted lands, he said.

Jackson’s father made plains-style headdresses. Continue reading →

Posted in american indian, authenticity, family values, Geronimo, Indian, native american, native press, Portland Art Musem, Zig Jackson | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

A gathering of minds: Indian style

Posted on April 3, 2016 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

BTS_poster4_download.jpg

Our conference in Albuquerque focused on narratives and how they shape meaning.

Students and scholars from across the United States and Canada—most of them tribal members—delivered thoughtful presentations about how meanings are created in photographs, cartoons, internet games, news media, films and artworks.

Topics ranged from Curtis’ Indian images held forever in sepia tones and my studies of how western science opposes Indian cultural beliefs when skeletal remains attract scientists who want to study our ancestors.

A fellow academic noted that, on her campus, a group of anthropology students held a Cowboy and Indian bash, where the women paired faux Indian costumes with scant clothing, and posted their shenanigans on Facebook. Continue reading →

Posted in american indian, authenticity, education, Indian, mascots, native american, poetry, race, science | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment