SNOW DAY! A Day for Reflecting on the Weather and Giving Thanks for White Colonization

I. Morning: No school today!

There is a god. And she granted me a snow day. Which may be the only good thing about living in this (what I thought was) god-forsaken climate. My ancestors must have been retarded. (Fade-in to a shot of them bumbling their way through the woods, "discovering" everything they laid eyes on.)

"Let's settle here. There are 7 days of sunshine a year, the summers are humid and stiflingly hot, the winters are also humid, and uninhabitably freezing! What are we waiting for? Since there are so many inches of heavy snowfall and it rains as much as freaking Seattle, let's build flat roofs, too. And big houses that are hard to heat! And another plus is the short growing-season. Hey! Let's all get guns, too, and shoot people if they try to make us pay our taxes. And-and-and-let's have a club! like a militia! With explosives and stuff. Let's not let anybody but us in the town, OK? And let's make sure our cities die by not allowing street vendors or musicians or outside cafes or anything uppity. Shit, let's keep the kids out, too. Who wants those freakin skateboarders all over our future concrete hell on earth? And frankly, if we have a library, is there any way we can keep people from touching the books? Goddamn it, get those homosexuals outa here, we will vote for marriage between one man and one woman. Procreate, people. Procreate!"*

*(Really important ancestral conversation preserved amidst my treasure-trove of memorabilia in a closet overflowing with valuable historic family documents. This particular gem later became part of the state constitution. You can tell that my ancestors were amazingly foresighted!)

Since I am such a good person that god brought snow and ice to give me the day off , I may take the opportunity to sort through some more of my priceless family history today. I'll keep you posted!

II. Afternoon: After more rummaging

Here's my latest find from a book chronicling the "history" of the town where I was raised:

"...the spring of 1833 is the era of civilized occupation. ..The 28th of May brought our pilgrims to [where the town would be]. It was too late for putting in crops by clearing the land, so they bought an Indian plantation, plowed and planted five acres with corn and potatoes. They paid the Indians $25 for their crops and improvements...The Indian settlement was where the city... now is. Some five hundred Indians, who were under the Flat River chief, stopped there, for making sugar, fishing, etc. They also raised some corn. As friends, the Indians and settlers lived together, with mutual benefit. The first winter passed, the Indians knowing they had sold their rights, cheerfully gave up their cherished homes to the whites. They knew they occupied only by the sufferance of the government."

White people never cease to amaze me. "Cheerfully gave up their cherished homes..." I wonder how the Indian version of this story was told.

III. Evening: Wild child

What began as a tirade about weather in the midwest turned into an angry rant about the places we have created for ourselves to live and then skidded off into contempt for those who stole those places from the people who were already there. I am feeling a bit hysterical.

One last thought: Remember Jim Carey's black sons in Me, Myself and Irene? He just wasn't aware of the fact that they were different than him, and neither were they. They all just loved each other, unconditionally and energetically. I liked that movie if only for that dynamic, which created some really funny moments.

Sometimes I feel like I have been captured by white people and raised as one of them. I'm gonna go have a glass of wine and pray for snow.