A Historical Story From the Future: Regenerating An Island of Coherence

A Historical Story From the Future: Regenerating An Island of Coherence

By Morey Bean

Boulder Community Artist (Soldiers’ Veil, 2020)

Inspired by the work of science fiction writer Octavia Butler, Scottish storyteller and Traveler Jill Smith, and First Nations friend and storyteller Solomon Ratt, this is a fictional ‘idea’ story, told by a fictional Arapahoe/Shoshoni/Scottish elder, told to his grandchildren and other young ones gathered around a campfire in Boulder, Colorado in the warm summer of 2035. It is written with the utmost respect for Indigenous People from around the world, living today, whose stories of repression, famine, poverty, ethnic cleansing and genocide go largely untold. Amidst these stories, this one includes a story of hope and healing, also told today, describing a process of colonization, decolonization and recolonization, of deconstruction and reconstruction, of generation and regeneration, celebrating the long journey leading to the receipt of the ‘title’ to the Poor Farm Ft. Chambers land being given back to Indigenous People from the citizens of Boulder in 2030, after the election of America’s new Indigenous President of Turtle Island.

It is a story of hope and healing as well as conquest and resettlement, as the Poor Farm / Ft. Chambers site has been radically transformed to reflect the fact that Indigenous People, including those who historically and contemporarily travel to and from Boulder, continue to be Travelers, north and south along the front range and the Wind River mountains and beyond, and east and west through the mountains to the plains and beyond, as this little island of coherence comes together in its evolution, by their labor and the labors of love of their white friends, in their eternal seasonal familial migration and settlement, led by listening to the land and watching the stars.

“Sit down, sit down little ones! Your parents are right behind you. Bundle up! They’ve given me just enough time to tell you a story before the Little Dipper pours its sleepy medicine into your eyes.” They were glad to see their big brother join them, who had moved to Denver after serving in the Iraq War, who was doing better after working here on the ‘Poor Farm Ft. Chambers Site Regeneration Project’, being more at peace in his healing journey.The Grandfather continued:

“Once upon a time, not too long ago, there was a family, not unlike yours, who was enjoying another summer’s vacation trip from Ada, Oklahoma to Ethete, Wyoming, in their big, beautiful motorhome. It was getting late in the day, and everyone was tired of being on the road, even though the welcoming sights of the mountains called the Flatirons were beautiful to finally behold, with the afternoon sun streaming from behind them. “Oh look Mom!” yelled a little one, “Those rocks look like they’re about to fall over!” “Oh, they are my dear little one.” replied the Mother, “Someday soon I’ll tell you the story of the Great Simplification.” (https://www.thegreatsimplification.com/ )

As they settled in, having hooked up to the RV park at the site of the old Poor Farm house, they themselves sat around a campfire. They caught up with other families who had come from near and far, welcoming a new Traveler friend from Scotland who would soon tell tales of his indigenous Pictish ancestors being removed from the Highlands of Scotland to the Americas, first as white slaves, later as slave keepers, and now his story as an artist telling his story of a healing-filled future in a standing stone sculpture, inspired by the Pictish Standing Stones of Scotland. They also welcomed new friends from the Brazilian rainforest who had been commissioned to work here as muralists, adding their stories to a mural from the repurposed walls of the old Poor House house, of stories told from their home and from this beautiful place. Even though they couldn’t speak very many words of English or any of the other languages spoken around the fire, their warm smiles and peaceful countenance made everyone feel warm and loved. The Grandfather continued:

“As the morning sun was just hitting the sides of their tent, not unlike yours, a chickadee landed on the top of it and said “Chicka-de-de-de! Chicka-de-de-de! Wake up you lazy kids! Chicka-de-de-de! Chicka-de-de-de! The day is waiting for you! Wake up and look around at all that we’ve done here! Your bison brothers are waking up too. If you’re quick you can get up and go see them before they wander off! Wake up! Wake up! Chicka-de-de-de! Chicka-de-de-de!” Looking up, the chickadee quickly flew away as his big brother the Magpie then landed on the tent (and he pooped right on top of it! Gross!) “Mack! Mack! Get up and come with me! Mack Mack! We’ve got lots of work to do before we get to have fun at tomorrow’s Pow Wow! Mack Mack! ” “OK OK…” Ramona said as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, “Where are we going?” “Mack! Mack! Come work on the stained glass story about your future, told on a window from the old Poor Farm house that’s being what you call ‘upcycled’!” “Clinton! Mack! Mack! Put on your tool belt and help finish the Pow Wow shelter built from the roof of the Poor House house!” “Angela! Mack! Mack! Get dressed and go watch the muralists work so that you can someday be a muralist! Hurry up! Mack! Mack! Go look at the welcome sign to this place that doesn’t just have one name but many! Add your Grandmother’s name for “Place of Healing” in her and now your language to the sign. Mack! Mack! Wake up! Wake Up!”

“As they finished their warm grits breakfast made from the corn of the Three Sisters Garden and nice hot butternut squash soup that warmed their bellies, they all trundled off to greet the day and get to work, that really wasn’t work at all, but the best play that they could imagine, being grateful to be outside instead of locked into some hot classroom where the teachers would routinely fall asleep.” (Based on a true story, told respectfully from the author’s white sister who taught English at Ethete, later to die of lung cancer from the groundwater contaminated by fracking fluid at their home and garden in Pavilion, Wyoming.)

“Much to the surprise of your strong teenage sister Melissa in her morning walk, she marveled at something that she knew had somehow been in her dreams but had been forgotten until now, when she saw a beautiful statue titled TAH! (https://www.hickoryart.org/exhibitions/virgilortiz ) by Cochiti artist Victor Ortiz. As she marveled at the beauty, power and grace of Tah, she could feel herself drawn to her, being of her, full of energy, no longer blinded from fear, but gaining strength and power and vision from Tah’s graceful, insightful countenance! Her excitement was confirmed as she heard the beautiful red winged blackbird that looked a lot like Tah! Ko Kah Reee! Ko Kah Reee! she called from the nearby regenerated wetlands. “Isn’t she beautiful?! Isn’t she strong?! Ko Kah Reee! Ko Kah Reee!”

“So after a good summer day of work and play, all these kids, not unlike you, laid down on their backs under the evening stars, in a big circle, with their bare feet touching each others, warmed by a good smelling campfire and the giggles and laughter telling your own stories from a day lived well, of who you met, and what you did that day, unwittingly reclaiming your life, a life being really well lived, stories that will surely be told by future chickadees and magpies, robins and ravens, stories told until this day, stories that have been hidden from you for way too long.”

“Oh! Listen! It’s Brother Robin! “Ka-chirp-chirp-chirp” “Ka-chirp-chirp-chirp” saying “Time to gather tomorrow’s fire wood! Time to make dinner!” After a yummy dinner of a bison frybread taco and green salad, all the children gathered around the fire, not unlike this one, heard their Mothers’ soft “Coo coo coo…Coo coo coo… Time to say Goodnight moon! Goodnight stars! Good night brothers and sisters here and everywhere! Goodnight Mother, Father, Aunties and Uncles, Goodnight Grandma! Goodnight Mother Earth.Thank you for all you give us everyday. May we have sweet dreams of bears and bison and beavers and chickadees and foxes and flying horses!”

“Goodnight Grandfather! Sweet dreams for you too.” said the children, not unlike yours. “Goodnight my sweet ones. I have got to go now, to fly away myself on a beautiful white horse, to a far-away and beautiful place, but I’ll see you and you’ll see me in the clouds and sunshine for all your tomorrows. Sweet dreams indeed my loved ones.”

“Goodnight…”