Photo copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved. |
Welp, I thought yesterday that I might be moving out of this flare sooner than usual, but today put the lie to that notion. We'll see how tomorrow goes; today was horribly unproductive, because it makes me so slow at absolutely everything. So have a cool-looking shot from a few nights ago of the living room vigas, finally lit.
The young man who works here on weekends now did come to help out today, though, and together he and Wings got the house cleaned beautifully (the wiring guys left it a disaster), and got not quite all, but most, of the scrap wood loaded up and hauled out to the burn pile. By "scrap wood," I mean the stuff that's been accumulating since construction began on July 6, 2016, so more than a year's worth. Which, given that time frame, was really remarkably small; our crew doesn't waste anything.
The guys are off tomorrow, but this young man (who is 15, and a traditional Native kid) will be back to work on clean-up some more and help with some other things. He had a nasty experience with one of his high school teachers this week (a white guy, of course), who, when he mentioned that he was participating in that program that will send him to Cuba for a week in January to observe an archaeological dig, among other things, responded: "Welp, you better start making frybread and sell it in front of Cid's, then, if you're gonna afford to go."
Now, an aside here: In our communities, being "rich" is relative. This young man's family has endured all kinds of financial hardship, the sort I grew up in where there are so few resources and there's is so little access to anything that all you do is get further and further behind. It's what the dominant culture does to people without family resources or other monetary wealth. And since Wings and I both know what that's like, and high school is hard enough, and this kid is intellectually brilliant, applies himself with a lot of individual initiative, and works incredibly hard, we do what we can to help him and his family out. Sometimes that means foregoing something ourselves in order to take a little scratch out of a sale and help with basics, which we've done several times. But we are determined that this kid is going to Cuba. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him, he's earned it, and we are going to make it happen, even if we have to pay his fee out of our holiday sales. And he knows we're behind him on this.
So, as noted above, racist white teacher says, "Welp, you better start making frybread and sell it in front of Cid's, then, if you're gonna afford to go." Our young friend looked at him for a long moment, shook his head, then stared him down and said, "I've got rich Indian friends who are gonna help me go. I don't need to do that crap." And Wings and I both cheered, even as we were side-eyeing each other and trying not to laugh over the "rich" part. It's all perspective. Knowing that we are likely to make at least one holiday sale good enough to get this kid where he needs to be at the end of January, come hell or high water? Well, to him, that's "rich," and there's a way in which he's not wrong. We are rich, in the land and the animals and the plants and the seasons and the people we love and who love us. We may not be rich in money terms, but spiritually, we have so much. Which is why we sometimes have to do without financially to make sure someone else gets what they need. And there is not Thing One wrong with making frybread and selling it to raise money (been there; done that), but the assumption that he had no other options, and the sneer underlying it that said silently, "You'll never be able to go" — that's unacceptable, to all of us.
Of course, such amounts are not the kind that are going to finish the house. Not even a little bit of it. And we really need to be in it well before the winter holidays, our young friend's course fee notwithstanding, because being able to sleep properly for the first time in seven years is what will permit Wings to make the kind of art that will finance it, as well as our livelihoods through the long winter months. It will also keep me going, something that seems really unlikely right now, but I'm too bullheaded not to hang on for dear life right now.
For now, here are the links — as I said last night, with one big change: I'm putting Wings's PayPal link back at the top. The last two weeks have not wiped us out, but they've put a huge hole in our reserves. This whole process has been a marathon made up of many sprints, and when we can, we have to push as hard and far and fast as we can through whatever stages are immediately doable, until we can't. Then it's scrounging and chasing funding, and then we gear up for the next sprint. We just ended one of those (not finished, precisely, because we didn't have the kind of funds available to get us as far as we wanted), and the problems with the plumbing and septic left a big hole in our available resources. We are approaching a standstill on the interior of the house if the tile can't get done, and given that we expect that to start sometime in the coming week, it's essential. So I'm back to robbing Peter to pay Paul with regard to specific tasks (because as always, the labor is eating us alive). Beyond cash, Home Depot cards are still most useful right now, because there is still a kitchen to . . . well, create. I've also added some old items back onto the Amazon wishlist, namely stuff for the animals. I have to add a few other such items, too, but I just haven't had time even to think about it yet. Anyway, here are the links:
- Wings's direct PayPal link;
- Wings's site, for sales;
- Lowe's cards (the physical version) via our Amazon wishlist;
- Lowe's e-cards (delivered via e-mail) here; and
- Home Depot cards via the company site. The e-version using my e-mail address is great; I take the tablet to the store with me, and they scan it off the screen.
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2017; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.
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