Coffee by the tats

Posted on October 8, 2013 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

Lady cofeeePortlanders are a bunch of spoiled brats.

The city boasts a bounty of delicious java and we expect the best.

Travel presents an opportunity for caffeine adventure and we scout out coffee shops when we journey. Continue reading →

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Massaging the facts

Posted on September 23, 2013 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

liesI am awed and distressed at propaganda that envelopes us.

Sure we recognize the obvious sales pitches:

• The clerk pops your prescription pills into a paper bag festooned with an ad for a new medicine

• The tennis champ’s dress is branded with a company logo

• The news website you’re reading suddenly morphs into an ad for a credit card

But most troubling propaganda is the story couched as “fact.” Continue reading →

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Identity quest

Posted on September 21, 2013 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

What is identity?

What is identity?

It is a common quest, this search for identity.

And I’m not an orphan.

I knew my parents and grandparents.

I should know who I am, right? Continue reading →

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Writing, discovery, meaning

Posted on September 20, 2013 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

Yupik mask

Yupik mask

A comedian wrote that, while she was writing her book, her house was at its cleanest.

Pounding away at the keyboard, I try to avoid distraction from the dirty dishes and dusty floors.

I stew and fret over my book, and wonder what is at the core of my writing.

What is the drive?

Must be identity. Continue reading →

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Have a doughnut

Posted on September 12, 2013 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

doughnutYou know the routine.

Homer Simpson is barely paying attention to his wife, Marge, and the cartoon bubble alerts us to his thoughts:

Blah, blah, blah, blah.

Homer perks up when he hears something that grabs his attention:

Blah, blah, doughnut.

My mind does the same thing when I listen to a zen lesson. Continue reading →

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Rifle Report

Posted on September 9, 2013 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

buffaloI took a break from writing on the culture of science and American Indians with a retreat to a zen monastery in the Oregon countryside.

Purpose was to clear my head and spend time with my beloved for an unplugged weekend.

The book nipped at my heels. Continue reading →

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McGillycuddy and Crazy Horse

Posted on September 5, 2013 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

Valentine McGillycuddy

Valentine McGillycuddy

Today—September 5—marks the day Crazy Horse was killed at Ft. Robinson by William Gentles in 1877.

Writer Larry McMurtry says that a scuffle broke out while Crazy Horse was being led through the fort, with Little Big Man restraining Crazy Horse.

(Not the Little Big Man character of the 1964 book or 1970 film.)

Crazy Horse “got one arm free and cut Little Big Man, causing him to loosen his hold.”

Then, Gentles stabbed Crazy Horse with a bayonet, a wound that would prove fatal. Continue reading →

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The Contrarian Sioux

Posted on September 4, 2013 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

crazy horse stampI’ve had to release the notion that all Indians are community-minded.

While anthropologists correctly note cultures are classified by their communitarian versus individualistic values, there’s plentiful evidence that indigenous folk have an independent streak.

The Sioux, for example, tolerated individuals who “followed their own bent,” according to Larry McMurtry, writing in his book, Crazy Horse. Continue reading →

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Trickster names

Posted on August 31, 2013 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

crazy_horse_surrender_leNaming has power.

Studying framing, propaganda and public relations—and watching Mad Men—helps strip the artifice created when naming things.

Corn syrup becomes corn sugar. Continue reading →

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Rosie Red Top

Posted on August 30, 2013 by Cynthia (Istá Thó Thó) Coleman Emery

Rosie Red Top and Young Bad Wound

Rosie Red Top and Young Bad Wound

My indatsay, John, shows me a sepia photograph of his family at their home on the Pine Ridge Reservation.

The place bears the indelicate name of Stinking Water Creek.

Relatives stare at the camera while a white-haired elder sits on the ground in front of the house.

Who is that, I ask. Continue reading →

Posted in american indian, authenticity, Francis Parkman, Henri Chatillion, Lakota, native american, Native Science, science, science communication | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments