Most children’s nursery rhymes have joyful and uplifting lyrics. But, when we look deep into their core, many of the soothing melodies and their haunting rhyming schemes, are bleak, sinister and deathly macabre and more.

The Rare Ould Times

Raised on songs and stories, heroes of renown,
The passing tales and glories, that once was Dublin town,
The hallowed halls and houses, the haunting children’s rhymes,
That once was Dublin city, in the Rare Oul Times.

The Rare Ould Times is a song composed by Pete St. John in the 1970s for the Dublin City Ramblers. It is sometimes called Dublin in the Rare Ould Times, The Rare Old Times, or The Rare Auld Times.

But first, what did Mr. St. John actually mean with the haunting children’s rhymes?

When the Merrian Webster Dictionary describes an act of haunting as a noun, it is defined by a visitation or inhabitation by a ghost.

Example I:

… “its early history is replete with drama: duels, murders, shipwreck… even ghostly hauntings.”
– Sally Gibson

But then, haunting as an adjective: having qualities such as sadness or beauty that linger in the memory, not easily forgotten, a haunting melody, haunting images.

Example II:

… “pale, branchless tree trunks with a haunting, Georgia O’Keeffe quality.”
– Susannah Master.

Some literary theorists opine that, Ring-Around-A-Rosies is thought to be a reference to The Great (London) Plague of 1665, killing one-fifth of the city’s population that year. This theory explains that the plague presented itself as a rosy rash and pockets full of posies were how people protected themselves from the smell of death all around them.

The Black Death in Europe

The Black Death was a bubonic plague pandemic occurring in Europe from 1346 to 1353. One of the most fatal pandemics in human history, as many as 50 million people perished, perhaps 50% of Europe’s 14th century population. Bubonic plague is caused by the bacterium Yersinia pestis and spread by fleas.

Lullabies

The oldest children’s songs for which records exist are lullabies, intended to help a child fall asleep. Lullabies can be found in every human culture. The English term lullaby is thought to come from “lu, lu” or “la la” sounds made by mothers or nurses to calm children, and “by by” or “bye bye,””, either another lulling sound or a term for a good night. Until the modern era, lullabies were usually recorded only incidentally in written sources. The Roman nurses’ lullaby, “Lalla, Lalla, Lalla, autdormi, autlacta”, is recorded in a scholium on Persius and may be the oldest to survive.

Many medieval English verses associated with the birth of Jesus take the form of a lullaby, including Lullay, my liking, my dere son, my sweting and may be versions of contemporary lullabies. But, many literary scholars believe that those used today date stem from the 17th century, such as Rock-a-bye Baby.

The Real Personages of Mother Goose

John Bellenden Ker Gawler (1764-1842) wrote, Many nursery rhymes have ideas which link between rhymes and historical persons, or events, can be traced back to Katherine Elwes’ book “The Real Personages of Mother Goose” (1930), in which she linked famous nursery rhyme characters with real people, on little or no evidence. She believed that children’s songs were a peculiar form of coded historical narrative, propaganda or covert protest, and did not believe that they were written simply for entertainment, when translated into English, reveal in particular a strong tendency to anti-clericalism.

But let’s take a further look at John Bellenden Ker Gawler’s theme, for it’s difficult not to take a hard (or soothing) look into the origins and meaning of nursery rhymes without acknowledging the Mother Goose Classic Collection, a collection of twenty-two children’s stories based on Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes, which first appeared in literary history around the 1600s. See Blanche Fisher Wright’s version below:

Old Mother Goose

Old Mother Goose, when
she wanted to wander,
Would ride through the air
On a very fine gander.

Mother Goose had a house,
‘Twas built in a wood.
An owl at the door
For a porter stood.

She had a son Jack,
A plain-looking lad.
He was not very good,
Nor yet very bad.

She sent him to market,
A live goose he bought.
“Here! Mother,” says he,
“It will not go for naught.”

Jack’s goose and her gander
Grew very fond;
They’d both eat together,
Or swim in the pond.

Jack found one morning,
As I have been told,
His goose had laid him
An egg of pure gold.

Jack rode to his mother,
The news for to tell.
She called him a good boy
And said it was well.

In the 20th century, Katherine Elwes-Thomas indicated that the image and name, Mother Goose or Mèrel’Oye might be based upon ancient legends of the wife of King Robert II of France, known as Berthe la fileuse (Bertha the Spinner) or Berthe pied d’oie (Goose-Footed Bertha).

Are nursery rhymes good for children’s ears?

Nursery rhymes are thought to be instrumental in helping children develop an ear for language, that is according to Mem Fox, author of Reading Magic. The short, rhythmic style of nursery rhymes help children to sound out unfamiliar words, aiding them in vocabulary expansion as they begin learning how to read and process other crucial language skills.

Experts in literacy development have discovered that if children know eight nursery rhymes by the time they’re four years old, they’re usually among the best readers by the time they’re eight.

Once children have masses of rhythmic gems like these in their heads, they’ll have a huge store of information to bring to the task of learning to read, a nice fat bank of language: words, phrases, structures, and grammar.

But, Old Mother Goose & Ring-Around-A-Roses are not the only children’s rhymes with a deep step back into a dark history.

London Bridge is Falling Down

So, what about London Bridge Is Falling Down, a rhyme in reference to the Great Fires that destroyed the London Bridge in the 1630s, or was it ever connected to the pillaging Viking attacks on the bridge during the centuries prior?

The theory is that the bridge is built on grounds of human sacrifice and that’s the only thing that keeps it standing today. Publication dates, though, often dispute this theory since the poem was first published years after these incidents had occurred.

The English nursery rhyme seems innocent on the surface, but some scholars believe it’s a reference to immurement – the medieval punishment where a person is locked inside a room until they died.

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

Another popular rhyme is Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary, which some believe to reference Queen Mary I and her mass execution of Protestants during her reign.

Like many nursery rhymes, Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary has acquired various historical explanations. One theory is that it is a religious allegory of Catholicism, with Mary being Mary, the mother of Jesus, bells representing the sanctus bells, the cockleshells the badges of the pilgrims to the shrine of Saint James in Spain (Santiago de Compostela) and pretty maids are nuns, but even within this strand of thought there are differences of opinion as to whether it is lament for the reinstatement of Catholicism or its persecution. Another theory sees the rhyme as connected to Mary, Queen of Scots (1542-1587), with how does your garden grow referring to her reign over her realm, silver bells referring to (Catholic) cathedral bells, cockle shells insinuating that her husband was not faithful to her, and pretty maids all in a row referring to her ladies-in-waiting, the four Maries.

Mary has also been identified with Mary I of England (Bloody Mary, 1516-1558), with How does your garden grow? said to refer to her lack of heirs, or to the common idea that England had become a Catholic vassal or branch of Spain and the Habsburgs. It is also said to be a punning reference to her chief minister, Stephen Gardiner. Quite contrary is said to be a reference to her unsuccessful attempt to reverse ecclesiastical changes effected by her father Henry VIII and her brother Edward VI. The pretty maids all in a row is speculated to be a reference to miscarriages, her execution of Lady Jane Grey or alternately to her executions of the Protestants.” – The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes.

And, Three Blind Mice, is considered another rhyme based on her executions. The cockle shells and silver bells are reportedly a reference to torture devices used during the era.

And, in the end, what more else can I say, for many of the soothing children’s nursery rhymes from my youth, turned out to be something entirely a different thing – pain, death, envy, theft, executions and destruction – which still defines the world in which we live in today.

Stay tuned for Children’s Dark Nursery Rhymes, Part II.

The post A T-Boy Journey into the Curious Case of Dark Nursery Rhymes appeared first on Traveling Archive.

Of course, so many different places come up for different reasons. For sheer beauty, there’s New Zealand. Everyone raves, setting up high expectations – always a worry. But New Zealand doesn’t disappoint. But for me, the country held a different magical appeal: little Stewart Island to the south of South Island that even many Kiwis don’t know about. With a population of 401 – the number never changed no matter how many people I asked: “Well, Ralphie died so that’s 400 – but no, the twins were born. So 401. Yup, 401, definitely.” Plus a mere 18 miles of roads and more water taxis than land ones, Stewart is 80% national park with an insulated community that still remains a little wary of outside visitors. I was glad they let me in.

Let’s see? For sheer diversity of culture, it’s hard to beat China. Not Beijing or Shanghai, of course – or even Guilin with its magnificent karst Mountains – but way out in the countryside where they still plow the fields with a resident water buffalo and local tribes plant tea in their traditional multi-colored costumes.

And a trip to Namibia introduced me to an even more primitive lifestyle. Not often, ensconced in our usually comfortable Western hemisphere lifestyle, do we take the time to reflect upon how so very much of the world lives very differently. Eighty-five percent of the world’s population live in poverty. And there are some civilizations that have very little knowledge of the world outside their small communities. And no, Talya, you can’t text them for more information.

My time with the Himbas re-enforced that. The beautiful and gentle Himba people are the last remaining tribe in Namibia to cling savagely to its native identity dating back more than 500 years.
Although most of the country’s 12 separate ethnic groups have retained their own language, food and beliefs, many have been converted to Christianity and, while still very poor, have become somewhat westernized. Not so the Himbas. Clad in very little clothing, their bodies covered daily through a lengthy ritual with red ocher pigment mixed with animal fat, the Himbas maintain a primitive culture. There are no stores in the village, no satellite dishes and no outhouses. They use the woods that border their village as their toilet.

Unlike other indigenous cultures, the more isolated and economically self-sustaining Himbas were able to resist the influence of missionaries who wanted them to cover their bodies; change their gods; upgrade their stick, mud and dung huts; and modernize their nomadic lifestyle. I was the one who left newly educated and impressed.

Countries are not known only for their interesting two-legged inhabitants; their four-legged creatures are equally intriguing. And although I’ve been on several safaris, I’d go tomorrow if another opportunity presented itself.

Usually atop an open-air jeep designed for ultimate sightseeing somewhere in Africa, we’d leer, gawk, ooh, ah, jump up, sit down, jump up again, all the while snapping picture after picture of a huge expanse of wild creatures surprisingly willing to share their open spaces, with each other as well as us.
It’s hard to describe the wonder of a leviathan elephant whose tusks almost reach the ground, a black-maned lion baring his teeth or half-a-dozen adolescent zebras cavorting around a waterhole within feet of the jeep. Home to some infinite number of animals, I often felt I had climbed into the Discovery Channel.

Occupying those omnipresent endless plains were millions of hoofed animals continually on the move in search of pasture for survival, constantly watched and pursued by the many predators whose own survival depends on feeding off them. Although I’ve been on numerous safaris, I never get tired of watching that dance. I’d love to take you on one, T.

But there are myriad adventures to be had at home as well. How about the five Utah parks for starters? Arches, Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, Bryce and Zion share many commonalities, including uncompromising splendor, history of both the earth and the country, and a sense of personal sanctuary. And then there are their differences!

Aptly named Arches National Park is a mecca of some of nature’s most intriguing creations: architectural designs that span space and confound logic for which no man-made blueprint was ever drawn. Nearby Canyonlands requires a 4-wheel drive vehicle – preferably with a driver. At 6000 feet, the view from Island in the Sky looks down at cliffs 2000 feet tall, arising out of a magnificently gouged and painted landscape.

Although geologic history is stressed in every park, at Capitol Reef, it’s what defines it – ranging from 80 to 270 million years old. A stroll along the Grand Wash River bed nearby, so narrow in parts you can touch both canyon walls at the same time, evoked old western film images of the lonely cowboy out on the trail.

Bryce Canyon is synonymous with hoodoos – phantasmagorical images emerging from weird and wonderful rock formations. There are thousands of the little (and not so little) guys in all shapes, colors and sizes. Arriving at Zion reinforces the idea that each park is unique. At the other parks, your line of sight extends out toward the horizon as well as down into the canyons. At Zion, you look straight up-and-up-and-up. Towering cliffs – some of the tallest in the world – flank you on either side. They meet the sky at a point that strains both the neck and the imagination.

But not all travel-writing trips are to magnificent scenic areas or fascinating destinations. Some are just quirky. Enter Scottsdale, Arizona’s Cowboy College where I channeled Billy Crystal in City Slickers – though you may be too young to remember that movie. But I was in training to be a cow hand ready to go on a cattle drive.

Heels down. Toes out. Squeeze with calves, not knees. Lighten up on the reins. Sink your butt into the saddle. So began my first riding lesson which was followed by instructions in grooming, shoeing, advanced riding techniques and roping. My experience up to then had been an occasional trail ride where the horse was presented to me all spruced up and saddled and all I was expected to do was mount it. Not so here.All of which was way outside my comfort zone – and great fun. In truth, most people at the college actually do then go on a multi-day cattle drive. My thighs were just thankful it didn’t have to get back on the horse the next day.

So hopefully, Talya, this gives you some idea of the very rough life of a travel writer. And oh yes, there is one other place high on our list of favorites to visit: your house!

The post Reflections on 35 years of travel-writing: Some Favorite Destinations appeared first on Traveling Archive.

The Tucson highways led to experiences deep into the Sonoran Desert. Photo courtesy of Deb Roskamp.

In my week-long stay in Tucson, I found its citizens to be gracious, wearing masks and sensitive to social distancing. A day trip to Tombstone proved to be another experience, in which I’ll address later. Towering saguaro cacti endowed Tucson’s landscape as far as the eye can see; which led to three life reaffirming hikes in the Sabino Canyon Recreation area, located at the northeast corner of the city in the Santa Catalina Mountains. The whole town seemed to be out – over a million visitors annually – meandering through Sabino Canyon’s many well-marked trails, some intense and others quite easy, making them ideal for any age and size. Rejuvenation was my theme, and Sabino Canyon was as mesmerizing as a carne seca taco at El Charro Café. But, more about that later, too.

Sabino Canyon Stream was a refreshing reprieve after hiking the trails. Photo courtesy of Deb Roskamp.

A 45-minute narrated tram ride leads you up into the mountain foothills, where you can easily walk four miles downhill to the main visitor center, or take hikes on side trails, many leading to the rewards of unique rock formations and the pristine Sabino Canyon Stream, ideal for cooling your dusty hiking heals or even taking a swim. The trams make nine stops, allowing travelers to hop on and off where they wish.

The Sabino Canyon offered an endless array of hiking opportunities. Photo courtesy of Deb Roskamp.

The saguaro cacti were tall and immense, with their arms reaching high up to the heavens. According to the Sabino Visitor Center, the saguaro cactus is one of the defining plants of the Sonoran Desert and has the distinction of being the largest cactus in the United States. Saguaro are slow growing cacti; a 10 year old plant might only be 1.5 inches tall, but can grow between 40-60 feet tall. The tree-like columnar develops branches (or arms) as they age, although some never grow arms. Saguaros are covered with protective spines, white flowers in the late spring, and red fruit in summer. Some have holes made by birds to nest in, often referred to as saguaro boots. Native-Americans perfected the boots as water containers long before the canteen was available. After the saguaro dies its woody ribs can also be used to build roofs, fences, and parts of furniture.

The Ronstadt Transit Center pays homage to the Ronstadt family. Photo courtesy of Deb Roskamp.

PRESIDIO DISTRICT: TUCSON’S OLDEST NEIGHBORHOOD

Before you begin your Presidio District walking tour, you’ll notice the Ronstadt Transit Center, named for the Ronstadt family’s prominence in the Old Pueblo. Singer Linda Ronstadt’s Tucson roots stem from her great-grandfather, who had emigrated from Germany in the 1840s, leading to a long line of Ronstadt family members who affected the commerce and fabric of the city today.

The 2,000-year-old prehistoric pit house at the Tucson Presidio. Photo courtesy of Deb Roskamp.

It should be noted that just after the Spanish arrival in 1775, approximately 90% of the native population died from infectious European diseases in which they had no immunity. The name, Tucson is derived from the Tohono O’odham People: Cuk-Ṣon; or Navajo: Tó Oostsʼą.

Once you park your car, it is essential, almost a mandate, to take a stroll through Tucson’s history with a tour of Presidio San Agustín del Tucson (Tucson Presidio). Built on land once occupied by ancient Native-Americans, the Presidio marks the birthplace where Tucson was established as a Spanish military fort. A remarkably well-informed docent pointed out the thick adobe brick walls, 10-to-12 feet tall, that the Spanish used as fortifications after a large Apache attack. My personal highlight was easily a 2,000-year-old pit house, quite literally a hole in the ground, where people slept for protection against invaders and wildlife predators. An original 150-year-old Sonoran row house provided a glimpse of what life in the Presidio was like for soldiers and other residents.

Located across the street is Old Town Artisans, established in 1922, which spans an entire city block, housing art galleries and shops in the longest-inhabited set of buildings in all of Tucson (circa 1850s).

El Charro Cafe dining area. Photo courtesy of Deb Roskamp.

In the middle of the block rests the iconic El Charro Café, established in 1922, which constitutes the U.S.’ oldest Mexican restaurant in continuous operation by the same family. The owner explained that the café actually serves Arizona-Sonoran Cuisine with a Tuscan interpretation. The tacos are made with carne seca grass-fed beef, akin to jerky, which has been pulverized back to life. El Charro is said to be the originator of the chimichanga (deep-fried burrito). Tucson itself was awarded the nation’s first UNESCO City of Gastronomy Designation.

The O.K. Corral, the site of the famous shootout – or was it? Photo courtesy of Deb Roskamp.

A Daytrip in Tombstone

The irony of openly carrying guns without a license in the Tombstone of today was too great not to mention. History tells us that Tombstone was once the very definition of a lawless Western Town, but then cleaned up by Marshal Virgil Earp and his deputies Wyatt and Morgan, by issuing a mandate on not allowing guns in the town proper. Curiously, the infamous gun fight at the O.K. Corral – where the Earp brothers and Doc Holliday attempted to arrest outlaw cowboys for carrying guns – is the major marketing component of the town.

But that was then, and this is now, where citizens proudly carry guns and have a homicide rate higher than the Arizona state average. I attempted to interview three Tombstone PR representatives with one simple question: “Where is the line in the street where one had to check in their guns at the jail or hotel during the days of Earp?” My lack of western tang or perhaps wearing a mask made it clear I was an outsider and received very guarded replies. One man politely ended with, Oh… Tombstone is just a fun and safe family town. I decided to leave it at that.

But, he was right, Tombstone was fun, beaming with history and folklore.

Nevertheless, in the hope of finding the real story of  the “Gunfight at the O.K. Corral,” I read an article by Casey Tefertiller and Jeff Morey that had appeared in Wild West Magazine. You can read “O.K. Corral: A Gunfight Shrouded in Mystery” by clicking the yellow button at the end of this article.

On the streets of Tombstone. Photo courtesy of Deb Roskamp.

There are seemingly countless books and film versions of the Earp Brothers and the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral. But the best film as art, though hardly accurate, is John Ford’s My Darling Clementine (1946) with Henry Fonda as Wyatt Earp. And Remember, When the legend becomes fact, print the legend. – Taken from Ford’s The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962).

 Back to the saguaros of Tucson. Photo courtesy of Deb Roskamp.

It was back to Tucson from there, with my looking forward to another hike among saguaro cacti in Sabino Canyon. Besides, I was informed that El Charro Café had a franchise restaurant five minutes from where I was lodging.

MORE about O.K. CorralLESS about O.K. Corral

Postscript: Later that evening we did dine alfresco at the El Charro Café. My sister noticed Kevin, an old friend from Seattle, who lives part time in Tucson, drinking a beer while waiting for a takeout order. I stood up and instinctively shook his hand, then resumed eating hand-to-mouth chips and cheese crisps, another  El Charro Café specialty. The next morning it dawned on me that it was the first time I’d shaken hands with someone since the pandemic. I asked my sister, I’m sure your friend Kevin is fully vaccinated.  She replied, Kevin vaccinated?!  He doesn’t believe that Covid even exits. But then she reassured me that I’ll probably be fine, but will know for sure in ten days or so. The days passed slowly, but on the tenth I found myself to be still alive and well, which gave me further reassurance that the vaccination does truly work.

Click here for information on Tucson Hotels. For Things to Do, visittucson.org.

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First, despite the city’s admonition of 300 days of sunshine, it was cold and rainy when we were there. And for my story, I had my cowboy shirt, hat and boots all on for the requisite photo op but ended up ensconced in multiple layers instead, including winter jacket, wool cap and gloves borrowed from the ranch. Wasn’t exactly the fashion statement I was going for.

The day began with some initial instruction from ranch manager and Jigger Boss Elaine Pawlowski, whose main goal seemed to be to keep us from falling off the horse and to avoid getting kicked when not on it.

My experience up to then had been an occasional trail ride where the horse was presented to me all spruced up and saddled and all I was expected to do was mount it. Not so here. Prior to even thinking about actually riding the animal, I was taught how to groom and brush her — Billie, a brown mare — and how to do so safely. I had never been this close to a horse from all sides, responsible for the behind-the-scenes handling. Elaine showed me how to pick up Billie’s hooves and clean out the bottom of the horseshoe with a pick, removing the excess dirt, pebbles or nails before taking her out. My first thought was, “You want me to do what?” As I was cleaning out one of her hoofs, I couldn’t help thinking there’s 1200 pounds of horse flesh here that with one thrust of the hoof I’m holding can flatten me. Fortunately, Billie was no so inclined.

During Saddling 101, my status as first-rate tenderfoot was further confirmed when I tried to pick up the saddle — and collapsed under its weight. The idea that I was actually supposed to get it atop the horse was ludicrous. I had absolutely no clue how much work went into just getting the animal ready to be ridden, much less the intricacies involved in actually riding one in the desert.

Riding a horse in the desert is a very different terrain than what most riders are used to and that in part is what brought Bob and Carol Skinner, local race horse owners and my cohorts at the ranch, to the College.

Bob, who has been around a lot of very different race horse disciplines all his life, claimed that each discipline thinks its methods are the right ones in terms of training and expertise. Always looking to learn something new, Bob says he came to Cowboy College to see how the cowboys do it as opposed to racers. Might be something he can incorporate into his own horse-related efforts. That much I understood. What came as a surprise was that as much as Bob knew about horses on the ground, he did not really ride. And while Carol did, her expertise was with racehorses; cowboy steeds were still a mystery.

To begin with, racers ride Eastern saddles which carry with them very proscribed rules of posture and deportment much more regimented than the more relaxed rules of Western riding. For starters, two-handed split reins vs. one-handed neck rein — after all, in the West, one hand must be free to shoot rattlesnakes and rope steers. Amazing how much of how you and your horse interact is determined by how you hold the reins.

Prior to heading out on our ride, we hunkered down to the bunkhouse for chow. The fact that it was bologna, ham and cheese on white bread with mayo seemed perfectly fitting. And the To Do list I spied on a bench near the stalls was slightly different than that found in most homes: Fix stalls 3,4, and 11; arrange tack rooms; cut off screws on saddle racks; clean out coops.

And then we headed out — me on Billie, a Quarterhorse, Carol on a Mustang, Bob on a Paint. Bob commented that just squeezing with his calves as opposed to his knees made an immediate difference. In the East, most trail rides are through woods; here we loped through sand and rocks and sagebrush, past cactus as tall as small buildings over a monochromatic panorama of gray and tan and muted greens. Did I say trail? Nope, no trail — just feeling our way over, around and through the rocky wasteland.

As we rested our horses atop a mesa in the Tonto National Forest, I looked out admiringly at the wide expanse of desert below, poetic mountains in the distance and a sky the color of every shade of blue found in even the largest box of Crayola crayons. This alone was worth the pain I expected to feel later in the day.

As we continued our ride, punctuated by an unending array of rocky inclines and descents, Bob and Carol became increasingly dismayed. Apparently, the uneven landscape and Western style of riding were alien to the two racehorse owners. The idea of riding horses over such a threatening terrain was a foreign concept, much less at a speed sufficient to maintain the momentum necessary to scale the crest of the embankment. Elaine kept reassuring them that, indeed, the horses were fine with it. She also kept reminding Carol, accustomed to riding English where proper posture is so important, to stay low in the saddle and resist the temptation to ride “two point.”

When I finally dismounted Billie, my legs were so wobbly I could barely make it to the corral. And we weren’t done yet — it was now time for our roping lesson. Fortunately, no actual calves were involved.

For those signed up for the complete Cowboy College program, this would have been just Day 1. Day 2 would be a more intense immersion into the cowboy’s world  — this time actually involving cows — before heading out to the cattle ranch about 25 miles to the north. Once there, the next four days are spent doing whatever needs to be done — rounding up the cows, moving cattle from one pasture to another, finding missing steer, branding and castrating, vaccinating, separating the mamas from the calves, fixing fences and checking water supplies, or helping other ranchers. That’s the life of the cowboy and the wanna-bes act accordingly.

According to Elaine, “Participants range from novices to more experienced riders but no matter what the level of expertise, after riding 5-6 hours a day and being immersed in cowboy training, they’re pretty comfortable and ready for the trail experience.”

Okay, so I wasn’t ready to go on a multi-day cattle round-up but I sure did have a whole new respect for anyone who does. The plus for me? Considering the difficulty I had walking the next day, I was glad that — unlike those participating in the whole program — I did not have to get back up on a horse. For more information, visit cowboycollege.com.

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We traveled much of fabled Route 66 before the Interstate Highway system had most travelers passing most of it by. Indian “trading posts” where crafts and turquoise jewelry could be bought, and occasionally tribal dances were performed, were siren calls to travelers seeking a lemonade or soda break from the summer heat shimmering on the long straight stretches of road once one was out of the mountains. The occasional giant and often goofy statues of dinosaurs, beckoning travelers to attractions such as dinosaur footprints in stone, and reptile exhibitions of rattlesnakes and Gila Monster poisonous lizards, and places where fossils or polished semi-precious gemstones or slices of petrified wood might be had. We did this trip before we had a car with air-conditioning, so when we hit the desert lands we tried to time them to avoid the worst heat of the day. This meant the early morning or late afternoon light often showed them at their most vivid, and the colors amazed me. I’d never seen the reddish and purple hues covering large tracts of earth, sand and stone before, the result of mineral oxides.

Those memories stayed without revision for nearly half a century. When an opportunity to explore Arizona came last Spring, I leapt at it, But I was also a little worried that my outsized memories wouldn’t hold up, that like many memories they would diminish with the perspective that comes from layering on additional decades. I wondered if these places so magical in my young minds eye might, like many places one returns to as an adult, would just seem “smaller” than when viewed as a child.

Not to worry, the touchstones of Arizona hold up splendidly, and the feeling I took with me was the wish to return soon with one or both of my kids to see these unique vistas once again through a child’s eyes.

And some places were new to me. Monument Valley, for instance. I think at best my family skirted the edge in the mad dash to the California coast. There was too much to cover in between, like a great aunt in Phoenix, and the goal of timing the drive across California’s Death Valley in the cool of night. We’d already visited Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico, and made a quick trip over the border to Juarez, Mexico, back before it was a no-man’s land war zone. So from the sidelines and afar, after seeing the Grand Canyon, Arizona’s buttes and plateaus like those of Monument Valley were just interesting road markers. So much distance to cover in a short time, it was like performing triage on the West’s greatest hits.

But on my second trip to Arizona, when I went deep into Monument Valley, the famous landscapes photographed by Ansel Adams were as exciting and curious as they would be to a young boy, the sense of scale and the crazy rock formations framed by the wide open spaces that will always be preserved, always timeless. And if the sun isn’t just right to catch them to best advantage in a photograph, one can always do them in black and white, wishing they’d turn out like an Ansel Adam’s photo, allowing the shadows and contrasts to star in the show.

For those of us who grew up with Westerns as popular movie fare, even the first time in Monument Valley gives a sense that one has been there before. Perhaps it’s the memories of the ten westerns the director John Ford made in this valley, such as “Fort Apache”, with Henry Fonda. Or Ford’s “Stagecoach”, the film that, on John Wayne’s 58th try, finally launched him into stardom. Or “The Searchers”, a vehicle for Wayne after he was as symbolic of the old West as any rock in the valley. Many other films incorporated Monument Valley, from Stanley Kubrick’s “2001”, which used the valley as the basis for the surface of another planet, to “Forest Gump”, who quit his long run there.

But Monument Valley is not about cowboys, it’s mostly about Indians, as it is entirely within the Navajo Indian Reservation that overlaps the Arizona/Utah border. It’s not really a valley, but that’s a handy way to collect the sandstone formations, some of which rise up several hundred meters. As one takes several hours traveling the twenty-seven kilometer dirt road that snakes through the valley and back, which affords one amazing view after another, one starts to appreciate the spiritual quality of the land that has always held such appeal for the Navajo, Hopi and other Indian tribes. This is particularly so if an Indian guide is along to explain some of the legends of creation and afterlife, and the fables based on some rock formations.

The Navajo comprise the largest of the 500 Indian tribes identified in the US Census. The Navajo Nation is about 44,000 square kilometers, about the size of West Virginia, and has a complex tribal government that is largely autonomous within the United States. The land ranges from high mountains and alpine forests to desert. Erosion from wind and water, as well as volcanic activity, have left many striking shapes including high plateaus and mesas, and canyons. As with many tribes, the land is the bedrock of tribal beliefs and of the interpretation of the world, and is often reflected in their arts. To gain an appreciation of Navajo legends, and of the historical challenges faced by the Navajo and other tribes over the past couple hundred years, stop in Tuba City and spend some time at the Navajo Interactive Museum.

The Hopi is another tribe with long-standing roots in the region. They’ve recently opened a very intriguing hotel in Tuba City, the Moenkopi Legacy Inn, based on Indian design themes but very contemporary. Their spiritual beliefs require a very complicated series of ceremonies throughout the year. They often pay homage to hundreds of Kachina spirits, invisible life forces. Among the most joyful artistic creations of the Hopi, who are master craftsmen and artisans, are Kachina dolls carved from cottonwood and dressed like the dancers who interpret and revere them. Hopi religion is anti-war, and seeks to be at peace and in harmony with all things around them, in accordance to the instructions of Maasaw, the Creator of Caretaker of the Earth. When the Hopi perform ceremonies to this end, they do them in hope of bringing peace to the entire world.

Hopi tours can be arranged that take people to the three mesas that the Hopi civilization is organized around, including First Mesa, where life remains very simple, and the village of Walpi has been continuously inhabited since 900 AD.

Another Hopi locale not to be missed is Dawa Park, surrounded by a red rock ridge over sixty meters high with thousands of petroglyphs, some unique only to that location, that date back to the Anasazai, “the ancient ones”, the ancestors of the Hopi. For half a millennium, Dawa Park was a hotbed of trading, until the arrival of the Spanish. There is evidence that some Indian traders came from as far as Central America. There is also evidence of ancient human sacrifices at the site, so the traders took commerce seriously.

Lake Powell, which straddles the Arizona-Utah border, was formed by Glen Canyon Dam, built on the Colorado River, upstream from the Grand Canyon. The massive damn is 216 meters high, 475 meters across, 8 meters thick at the crest and 91 meters thick at the base. The damn is created from over four million cubic meters of concrete. It looks down 178 meters to the surface of the river that waters so much of the southwest and part of Mexico.

The dam was well-intentioned, generating hydroelectric power, storing and allocating water in an arid part of the country and creating tremendous water recreation offerings. Unfortunately, most assessments now view the downside to be more significant than originally thought, with negative impacts on the environment and on the aesthetic qualities of the area. For example, it was discovered that 8% of the river’s flow, worth hundreds of millions of dollars annually, disappeared between the dam and the lake, sponged into the canyon banks or evaporated. There is a movement to gradually restore the natural flow of the river, and to eventually drain down Lake Powell.

Whatever the lake’s final fate will be, and that’s unlikely to be determined any time soon, boating on Lake Powell is a stunning experience. This part of Glen Canyon is not nearly as deep as the Grand Canyon, which can reach down over 1,830 meters. The deepest parts of Lake Powell only reaches 171 meters, with rock formations rising several hundred meters above the water. But things are very relative, and even on a speed boat the lake feels like the land of giants. Indeed, it’s the second largest man-made reservoir in the country, storing up to thirty cubic kilometers of water. The lake is 300 kilometers long, but it’s the shoreline that intimidates – 3,155 kilometers, as long as the entire west coast of the continental United States. Nearly a hundred side canyons open into it. If one wants to get lost, this is the lake to do it.

The surrounding land comprises three hundred million years of geologic history that includes a great inland sea. The Colorado Plateau, through which the canyons cut, arose eleven million years ago. The reservoir is named for John Wesley Powell, a one-armed Civil War veteran who took three wooden boats and explored the Colorado River in 1869, a hair-raising adventure chronicled in the Disney film, “Ten Who Dared”.

The vastness of the lake and its wild variance of cliff and rock formations can be very disorienting. I was driving a speed boat at over 86 kilometers an hour, told by my guide to continue forward and eventually swing this way or that. My anxiety levels rose because it always looked as if I was about to dash to boat to pieces on the massive rock formations looming ahead, but suddenly a large waterway, previously invisible, would open up from around some cliff or behind an island outcropping of rock, and the group I was with was spared as I redirected the boat into another very different landscape. In the Spring, with few people around, it was one private lake after another, with endless small canyons with amazing rock formations to explore. The water is clear, ranging from turquoise to deep green, and the rocks are constantly changing colors in reaction to the position of the sun. The Grand Canyon is an incomparable sight, but there’s something very cool about zooming across the water close to massive rock formations that are part of the rim of deep slashes in the earth that go far below the water, it almost feels like one is flying through the canyons.

Our guides were from Antelope Point Marina, and after a picnic in a hidden canyon waterway, we moved out into the lake until we reached our destination, a narrow canyon that, after a short hike from where the water stopped at a boat dock, allowed access to Rainbow Bridge. This was much easier than the alternative twenty-three kilometer hike over rough terrain, for which a permit is required, from a trading post at the end of an unpaved road, and in summer the heat is oppressive (most popular time of year for tourists is summer).

When the bridge comes into view, it does not disappoint. It’s described as higher than the nation’s capitol and almost as long a football field. Not counting a few large arches, depending on what aspects are measured, the Rainbow Bridge is a contender for being the largest natural bridge in the world, (there is a competitor in China, Fairy Bridge in Guangxi Province). Eighty-eight meters tall and eighty-three meters across, and at the top ten meters wide, it was carved out of sandstone by the snowmelt flowing from Navajo Mountain into the Colorado River.

It’s easy to see why the Navajo Indians consider the bridge sacred – they ask that people do not pass beneath it. For them, the bridge is a symbol of the deities that create clouds, rain and rainbows that bring forth life from the desert.

In the area of the bridge, one can see plants utilized for spiritual ceremonies by the Indians, as well as the footprint of a velociraptor, one of the deadliest predatory dinosaurs, that fortunately moved on.

Returning to the speedboat, our guides brought us to where we’d spend the rest of the day and night, on a beach all our own, in a huge section of the lake with no one else in site.

Our home was afloat, but anchored on the beach. The twenty-three meter Silver Xtreme luxury houseboat, with six private staterooms, a kitchen and common areas one would expect in a Manhattan condo. A sea food cookout was arranged on the beach, and that night from the hot tub on the top deck one could watch for shooting stars in a sky as jammed with bright stars as any place on the planet.

The biggest jaw-dropper of the American Southwest is the Grand Canyon. Here, my memory acquitted itself well, one’s first look at this canyon will always be a memory that never diminishes. In fact, I can still remember the look of frozen fear on my father’s face as he looked over to see his young boy standing precariously on a rock ledge, peering over into the vast chasm beneath, and how calmly but quickly he moved and grabbed my arm to pull me back as a strong gusts of wind pushed at us.

The canyon is 446 kilometers long, averaging 1,200 meters, and going as deep as 1,830 meters. It’s over 24 kilometers at it’s widest, and as one looks into it, it’s canyons within canyons, with the deepest sporting the Colorado River that helped chisel out the canyon over millions of years, in cooperation with the rising Colorado Plateau.

The actual mix of forces creating this wonder continue to be debated, and nobody knows yet if any one theory has nailed it exactly. What is known for sure is that the canyon offers one of the best geological windows on our world, and it’s easy to see why it’s one of the most studied places on the planet. The roots of the mountain range that is now at the canyon’s bottom were formed 1.7 billion years ago. Fossils of primitive algae are part of the first sedimentary layer, showing the area was coastal 1.25 billion years ago. On and on, over hundreds of millions of years, the various layers show volcanic activity and advancing and retreating oceans and seas. Both revelations and mysteries come from the progression of layers, including the puzzle of missing layers of rock. The layer we now see on top is filled with marine fossils indicating it was once beneath a sea. Seventy million years ago the Rocky Mountains – a very old mountain range – began to form, laying the groundwork for the eventual formation of the Colorado River, which began cutting through the earth – but exactly what happened next is a little fuzzy.

However the finishing touches were done, five million people a year come to gaze at Nature’s handiwork. The Grand Canyon includes five of the seven life zones in North America – the equivalent of traveling from Canada to Mexico – and three of four desert types. The resulting abundance of different ecosystems offer a great variance of life, including over 1,500 plant species and 355 bird species, including the extremely rare California Condor, with wing spreads of nearly three meters the largest bird in North America. Soaring on thermal updrafts, condors spend little energy gliding at over eight kilometers an hour. The 89 mammal species include mountain lion, black bear and elk. But no animal puts as many people in the emergency room as the rock squirrel, don’t offer them a peanut or otherwise mess with them.

Bordering the canyon is the 1.6 million acre Kaibab National Forest, with mountains as high as 3,176 meters. Over 6,000 archeoligical and historical sites have been found in this forest. Combined with the Tonto and Coconino National Forests that lie net to the Kaibab, the result is the largest standing forestland in the US.

If one approaches the Grand Canyon from the south, one will find the flavor of the Old West alive and well in Williams, a small town that plays its historical traditions in a playful tongue in cheek manor, including street theater shoot-outs with a lot of humor as the vanquished gun-fighter keeps coming back for more until he’s finally caught one bullet too many.

Typifying the tone is Wild West Junction, a mockup of a portion of a town from the mid-1800’s, with western characters, dressed from a huge Hollywood costume collection, playing the theme to the hilt. It includes a saloon restaurant with musicians and a small Drover Hotel with rooms that each have a unique theme, such as an old style bordello or, my favorite, one filled with memorabilia of and books on the Old West portrayed in classic western movies. The owner, Bob Foster, is a former race car driver and Hollywood stunt man who became the pilot for and a good pal of the late film legend John Wayne who was most famed for his westerns. The actor had a ranch in the region, and over the years gave the Foster a good amount of memorabilia, which Foster pays homage to at the John Wayne Museum he has on the property. The best offerings are the stories Foster tells.

Williams also imparts the flavor of the roadside attractions that dotted the famous old highway Route 66, which was once seminal to the nation’s consciousness and self-image, as revealed in the old television drama “Route 66” that began in 1960. The stretch going through Williams was the last section in the country to be decommissioned, and Route 66 themes are everywhere. The bordellos and gambling houses of the town’s Wild West past are no longer here, but there’s still plenty to do with good restaurants and bars, a top golf course, activities like horseback riding and fishing, plenty of events and a new drive-through wildlife park, Bearizona. The railway operation also has a large hotel in town and a hotel inside the Grand Canyon National Park.

No one keeps the western flame alive more than the town’s Mayor, John Moore, recently re-elected with 70% of the vote. He dresses as the town sheriff and stays in character, catching a kiss from every local lady who passes him on the street. Among his enterprises are wild west reenactments such as shootouts by the Cataract Creek Gang. The most impressive is the daily train robbery of the Grand Canyon Railway as the train is on the return trip from the Grand Canyon. The train is great fun, with western singers performing in the train cars, but the pace picks up when bandits on horseback stop and board the train. The bandits are a motley crew who vary from a former Los Angeles cop who is one of the nation’s fastest quick draw pistol marksmen to a teacher working with specially challenged students.

But when they are bandits, they are bandits through and through. As I was there as a writer, they outfitted me in western garb, a Hollywood stunt pistol and a bandana mask, and sternly briefed me on the do’s and don’ts of train robberies, such as never pointing even guns without live amo anywhere but the ceiling, and not accepting the wedding rings that are occasionally offered up.

When we robbed the train, we did our best to entertain, staying in character and making glib comments, but taking care not to be offensive. Great fantasy, great fun. The train passengers were very willing victims who loved their predicament and the chance to banter with the bandits moving from train car to train car. But the forces of good overcame us, as Sheriff John Moore later came aboard, chased us throughout the train until he captured us in the last car and marched us back through in the ultimate perp walk, our hands in the air as we griped about the unfairness of it all until we got off train and it continued on unmolested. Still, when we later divvied up the loot people actually gave us, my share was twenty-nine dollars, and a new career path tempted me. So, sort of a technicality, did I actually rob a train?

If You Go

A premier tour guide operation with comfortable vans and luxury SUV’s that traverse the Southwest, is Detours

A tour guide expert on the slot canyons, Overland Canyon Tours

Antelope Point Marina at Lake Powell, which provides boats including luxury houseboats.

Amer-Indian guides for Monument Valley, Monument Valley Simpson’s Trailhandler Tours

Navajo Tourism, Monument Valley Tribal Park and Navajo Interactive Museum

Arizona Tourism

The post A Northern Arizona Road Trip Happily Returns appeared first on Traveling Archive.

Invite a group of your closest friends and family members along to honor the occasion or simply celebrate à deux. Wear what you like, a bikini top and shorts or go full out like Beyoncé, who had a custom white gown, heavy on the bling, created for her vow renewal.

To learn more about these romantic occasions, pick up a copy of The Complete Guide to Vow Renewals, an Amazon ebook that I wrote with co-author Geri Bain. This step-by-step guide can walk you through the planning process and help you to creatively envision all the elements of your event. If the idea of enhancing a vacation with a vow renewal appeals, these are some outstanding places to retie the knot:

Hawaii. Combine a Waikiki vacation with a free vow renewal on the beach that integrates ancient customs, music and dance. The sunrise ceremony takes place every Monday and Thursday morning at Outrigger Waikiki Beach Resort and is also open to guests at sister resort, Outrigger Reef Waikiki Beach.

Caribbean. If you’ve never been to a Sandals all-inclusive resort, it deserves consideration. Several of the adults-only properties — including ones in Grenada, Barbados, and St. Lucia, now feature romantic and quite luxurious overwater bungalows among the lodging choices. The brand’s basic $300 Retie the Knot vow renewal program, available in all its outposts, includes a planner, the location, orchid bouquet and boutonniere, chairs with cushions, prerecorded music, a signature cocktail, wedding cake, and commemorative certificate. They also throw in breakfast in bed and a complimentary photo. Bring more friends, and the resort furnishes more goodies. Couples with children under age 18 can enjoy a similar offer at Beaches resorts.

Arizona: If you and your significant other are still over the moon in love, consider a location that resembles the orb. The Boulders is set among megalithic rocks and towering saguaro cacti outside of Scottsdale. Stage your event in a meadow clearing or by a waterfall. If your group is small, consider renting a private villa that can sleep 6-8 overnighters and celebrate right there. The living area leads to a spacious patio complete with an outdoor gas grill and gas fireplace, where they can cook up a feast for you.

French Polynesia. For many couples, it’s the dream destination of a lifetime. At Four Seasons Bora Bora, you can arrive at your ceremony in an outrigger canoe and say your vows on the beach or in the chapel overlooking the lagoon and Mount Otemanu. For an utterly romantic finale, let the canoe be your transportation to a tiny private island, where you’ll be welcomed with Champagne and served a customized dinner for two as you toast the sunset, each other, and the years you’ve shared.

Las Vegas. Sure, you can renew your vows in front of an Elvis impersonator on the Strip, but you can also opt for something classier. Just about every good hotel has a chapel. The Wedding Salons at Wynn Las Vegas feature a vow renewal package that includes a dedicated event consultant, officiant, use of the dressing room, roses, music, a photo session and a webcast so the folks at home can be with you in spirit. If it’s not too hot, opt for the pretty outdoor Primrose Courtyard; otherwise choose one of the two chapels.

Ireland: You need not have royal blood to retie the knot at 800-year old Ashford Castle in County Mayo. Ceremonies can be held in castle gardens if weather permits or the George V dining room, the underground wine cellar, the drawing room, or an opulent event room on this 350-acre estate. If your guest list is long (and plenty of Irish cousins are on it), Oak Hall in the heart of the castle is available. For something even more historic, Ballintubber Abbey, founded in 1216, is nearby. For the ultimate in privacy and romance, book the one-bedroom Hideaway Cottage on the water’s edge of Lough Corrib.

Mexico. The historic colonial town that everyone loves, San Miguel de Allende features a number of scenic backdrops. At Rosewood San Miguel de Allende, you can renew vows on the lawn, in a rooftop terrace, inside the garden restaurant or at an amphitheater. And yes, strolling mariachis are an option.

Florida. On a northeast barrier island, the AAA Five Diamond Award-winning Ritz-Carlton Amelia Island has a seaside vow renewal package that includes a private outdoor ceremony, fresh flowers, and a Champagne toast beside the Atlantic Ocean beaches. In case of bad weather, the resort prepares a backup location. While the hotel seems grand, the property is welcoming and comfortable. Everything that happens here happens with a coastal twist. The clean, fresh sea air and natural beauty of the island wash over guests, making The Ritz-Carlton, Amelia Island a casual, yet elegant refuge.

New Hampshire: A grand dame of a hotel, family-friendly Omni Mount Washington Resort at the base of 6,288-foot Mount Washington offers celebratory locations that include a garden, terrace, veranda, conservatory, and ballroom. Active couples and guests can tackle Bretton Woods ski area in winter, go on trail rides in warmer months, and slide across the zip line in all seasons.

Toronto: In the past few years, Toronto has seen the construction of numerous world-class hotels including Shangri-la, Ritz-Carlton, St. Regis, and the new flagship of the Four Seasons hotel group. All are professionally run urban sanctuaries with stylish restaurants and event spaces. But for a top-of-the-world experience, there’s nothing that compares with 360 Restaurant in the CN Tower that stands at more than 1,000 feet tall and revolves while you dine. Not for the acrophobic or vertiginous, just for those dizzy with love.

The post 10 Romantic Places to Renew Your Wedding Vows appeared first on Traveling Archive.

If you’re the Yes Men, you meet NRA lunacy head on with the ludicrous. If you don’t know the Yes Men, Jacques Servin and Igor Vamos, from their prior projects beginning in 1996, don’t take no for an answer. They’ve just released a twenty minute film on YouTube that underscores how the NRA’s steam is generated by fear rooted in racism. Included is a segment of their summer appearance at the Reagan Presidential Library in which the “NRA” reveals their Share the Safety project to match every purchase of a selection of guns with a refurbished gun donated to a vetted residence in an inner city of the purchaser’s choice.

Satirical impersonation is a key Yes Men tool, appropriating the identities of their targets, often corporate, providing them “identity correction” free of charge. In this arena, the Russians can only bow down and admit they’re not worthy. From sample projects in the Yes Man Lab, here’s one working over the DNC’s new progressive veneer.

The following info comes from a Yes Men press release with helpful sub-links, including tracking NRA money to those profiles in courage who represent us in Congress while their canned political rhetoric redefines venality.

#WecallBS on the NRA’s Very Existence

New Yes Men film highlights fundamental racism of modern gun lobby

In the wake of the Parkland shooting and the inspiring activism of teen survivors from Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, the National Rifle Association and its Republican partners are facing intense scrutiny for their critical role in the rise of mass shootings and of homicides overall in America.

The NRA’s unhinged rhetoric and utter lack of remorse have been on full display since the horrific gun massacre at Stoneman Douglas two weeks ago. Spokesperson Dana Loesch (notorious for her recent ads that seem to be mustering NRA supporters into a pro-Trump paramilitary) even seemed to blame the media for the shootings, while NRA President Wayne LaPierre spewed more of his usual “arm the teachers” lunacy (promptly parroted by the current occupant of the Oval Office).

A short Yes Men film, completed in August 2017 and launched today on YouTube, uses shock humor to remind us where the NRA’s lunacy and ugliness come from: FEAR — specifically, the profoundly terrified racism of the ’70s. Featuring a Yes Men hoax performed June 22, 2016 at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library, the film tells:

• how Republicans — in a terrified reaction to the Black Panthers’ performative activism — once promoted the first gun-control legislation;
• how, once the Black Power movement was crushed, Republicans began calling for looser gun-control legislation, presumably for (white) “defense”;
• how the NRA, once a moderate organization, became a tool of racist Republican fear when it was hijacked by extremists including LaPierre, its current president; and
• how fear of a Black uprising partly morphed into the right-wing street’s signature terror of “government” (which in its best form, after all, is just another word for “people power“).

The film communicates how the NRA and the Republican Party, tapping into deep racist fear for their power and profit, have turned America into the most violent high-income country in the world by a truly immense margin, both overall and specifically. (We have 7 times the homicide rate, and 25 times the rate of gun deaths, of the average high-income country — mainly thanks to Republicans and the NRA.)

The film also features a comical encounter with the NRA’s Dana “Paramilitary” Loesch and her sinister, truth-indifferent “debate” techniques that so spectacularly failed at CNN’s Town Hall last week when she tried to use them against Parkland school shooting survivor Emma González.

With this film, the Yes Men wish to join the students of Stoneman Douglas (and many others before them) in calling B.S. on the NRA’s very existence. Please support them, and the nationwide #NeverAgain movement:

• Students can organize walkouts wherever they are.
• Anyone can attend or support the March For Our Lives.
• College students can skip Florida for spring break, because money seems to be the only thing that talks to some people.
• And most importantly, EVERYONE needs to do whatever we can to make sure the politicians who have so much blood on their hands never work in D.C. again.

Flotsam and Jetsam on the Lure of Guns:

Applause for the Yes Men. The more exposure the NRA’s bought and paid for mental infirmities gets outside of the safe confines of CPAC and the evermore extremist wings of NRA members, the faster any remaining shreds of credibility will depart. Members who haven’t yet completed their transformation into pod people worshiping at the sacrificial altar of a faux 2nd Amendment might start to drift. Maybe even members of mainstream media will quit prefacing their interviews on gun topics by acknowledging their ready acceptance of recent 2nd Amendment interpretations. If they bother to study up on the 2nd Amendment’s throughout most of this country’s history, before the recent political hucksterism flowing over into the courts altered it, they might instead make mention of it when they interview the instant Constitutional scholars with expertise in the 2nd Amendment, carefully honed over pitchers of beer with like-minded experts who studied at the school of Wayne LaPierre.

And boy, if it pans out the NRA’s fungible dark money millions funneled to the most venal of politicians had sources including not just the usual suspects like the Koch villains but foreign interests as well,  “I’m the NRA” ads may change out stalwart imagery like Roy Rogers for an international villain look. How delicious if the NRA goes down as a bagman.

When Gore was running for President, I hosted a forum on gun control issues at the National Press Club. The panel was to include a spokesman from the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence, a couple other experts on violence, and a spokesman from the NRA. The day of the forum, the NRA told me its representative was stuck in a snowstorm in Idaho. When I asked if they would send another person, I was told no. So, I put up an empty chair in the NRA’s place and the panel had a good time working over NRA nutball mythology. Alas, eventually the NRA had the last laugh, taking as much credit as they could for Gore’s loss in various states including his home state of Tennessee, land of Davy Crockett.

Indeed, the NRA is prominent among groups that can claim credit for putting America’s democracy in front of a funhouse mirror. These include the finance/insurance sector, AIPAC, Big Pharma, Big Tobacco, Big Oil, etc…, groups progressives shouldn’t take a nickel from. By comparison, the messages NRA-related groups have flooded the Internet with for years make claims of election impacts from Russian social media mischief a joke. As do many of the hot-button fundraising pleas bombarding our inbox, but gun rights crazy talk is in a divisive league of its own.

My personal experience with guns isn’t extensive, but it’s adequate to know guns can be a blast. When small it was exciting to walk a family farmland with my dad, looking for quail and pheasant. I took note my dad never kept shells in the house, a practice I continued when acquiring the seldom-used shotguns. My first encounter with the NRA was safety-related, back before the NRA had been taken over by extremists in the service of the gun industry. Earning a marksmanship merit badge in Kansas on the march to Eagle had more cachet than, say, basket weaving. Occasional encounters with guns since, from skeet shooting to hunting efforts that probably still have quail telling jokes around their campfires, have been fun. Less enjoyable is the sound of distant gunshots late at night in the middle of Washington, DC, where I live.

When I was a kid every boy had a Daisy BB gun. Back before BB guns could be pumped and pressurized into serious danger, buddies would don protective goggles and we’d have shootouts. Thrilling, until stung. It has me wondering how much of the attraction to guns is primal from eons of hunting for survival. But other countries, including wild and wooly Australia, have responded sensibly to gun tragedies and thus far their citizens’ DNA hasn’t broken apart. Norway is on track to ban semi-automatic weapons, I doubt mankind’s essence will melt down there either.

Perhaps gun enthusiasm might be quenched by paintball. My uncle Jack, a Carlson Raider, was the first Marine atop Mt. Surabachi at Iwo Jima. Silver Star from Howling Mad Smith for leading the reconnaissance that enabled the assault — scaling sheer cliffs under withering gunfire, hand to hand combat. Naturally, I figured I’d be a natural. In my first paintball combat, surrounded by the jungles of St. Lucia, I was quickly dispatched by a young girl. Despite that humiliation my daughter and I both thought it a treat. Maybe a gun-buyback program with ample paintball coupons would find success.

I’ve hunted big game in Africa, but I did it with a camera on travel assignments. Thrilling enough for me. In the Okavango Delta, while running backwards I shot an angry flying hippo, my photo trophy ran in Smithsonian magazine. I admit I don’t mind a guide with a rifle waiting in the Land Rover in case wildlife goes wild. You don’t have to go to Africa. The US has ample parks and countryside with wildlife. Take a kid shooting with a camera.

I’ve friends who are bow hunters and I’ve nothing against hunters shooting for food they consume or contribute to others, particularly when deer overload the ecosystem. One lucky friend enjoys yearly duck hunts in the English countryside, with its own rituals and the camaraderie that’s bedrock for many hunters.

But the idea of executing animals with military weapons and calling it sport turns the stomach.

A favorite gun escapade was outside of Williams, Arizona. Writing a travel whimsy, I was invited to join a gang on horseback to rob a train as it returned to Williams from the Grand Canyon. It’s robbed every day, and still they endure! Fun as hell. Strict rules: though the pistols have no live ammo never point them at anyone, nothing offensive is said even in jest and don’t accept jewelry. Eventually captured and perp-walked by the sheriff (played by the town’s mayor) the length of the train, I kept my share of the loot, 27 beans. People really fork over money and robbers have turned down wedding rings. Below I’m practicing for robbing the train. My life of crime may fire up after banksters and their Senate enablers wreck the economy again.

The next day a fellow train robber took me into a mountain forest. A former LA cop and a champion quick-draw pistol marksman, he brought along a pal who was a craftsman and expert at restoring historic firearms. He brought a single shot muzzle-loaded musket, and he had earned his mountain man attire. I can’t imagine them, particularly a former police officer from the streets of LA, endorsing such perils as arming teachers or loading up the public with military weapons that can fire 120 rounds a minute. The musket was a beautiful work of art and an enjoyment. It was handy to have an expert pour the gunpowder and load for me. Musket balls are like miniature cannonballs. Even just a few shots played havoc blowing a tree stump apart. Good time. I reflected on how in battles long ago, musket-balls were usually lethal even hitting a limb, shattering bone or ripping it off. Grim enough, but my how we’ve improved lethality since militia days.

Some from my generation who go to the mat fighting any gun restrictions have me wondering if they experienced trauma giving up their Disney coonskin caps (I had one as a kid, which I wore inside my miniature tee-pee), and fringed Annie Oakley skirts, so that part of them resides forever in Frontierland. So many gun die-hards just seem like immature kids who don’t know where play ends.

Maybe some have a Red Dawn movie fantasy playing in the back of their craniums. People who really believe their assault weapon gun collections keep government in line would likely meet my definition of the mentally suspect, perhaps earning closer scrutiny for “extreme risk protection orders.”

I once caught a guy breaking into my house. I’m glad I didn’t have a gun, because then the voice in one’s head keeps muttering “gun, gun, gun” as the go-to response. Perhaps that voice too easily crowds out thinking in the minds of some police who are poorly trained or who shouldn’t have been hired. Instead I found another solution to keep him until the police took him away. Frankly, if he’d had a gun, even if I had one tucked away I’d have said here’s my cash. Material possessions aren’t worth a fatal escalation that takes anyone’s life.

Cracks are now widening in the cult reassurance of NRA mythology that allows people to ignore realities of where gun violence is most likely — in the home, and not from home invaders. An Illinois gun show banned AR-15’s. Sporting goods stores are revolted by the potential of blood money. Corporate NRA promotional partnerships are now toxic. Kids who survive mass shootings call adults to account. Grand Theft Auto starts to look like aversion therapy. I think more gun proponents will find their way out of their cultural echo chamber and start to wonder what the hell were they thinking. I marvel at the contrast between those inspiring students finding their voice in Florida and the political phonies dancing a public relations cha-cha with the NRA.

This is what I know about gun control: There is no comprehensive insurance in life but that’s a poor excuse for inaction. Everything in life is a percentage game. Every improvement we can make in this world is a matter of increasing the odds for better outcomes, wherever and whenever we can. Once that’s accepted, the flimsy reasons opposing gun control measures collapse. Absolutes are hard to come by, but every adjustment of the odds saves lives. As adjustments add up, the odds change in favor of survival, gun mayhem is reduced. A percentage game.

There is no right to risk lives and condemn families to grief for an unfettered right to own any gun one fancies.

Maybe one day the debate chair for the NRA representative will be empty not because of a snowstorm in Idaho but because nobody wants to listen to those mad hacks anymore.

POST SCRIPT: Given the depressed and suicidal mindsets of school shooters, arming teachers might actually attract mayhem. And with the likely difference in firepower, given the guns the shooters likely have, some shooters might even relish the chance of a shootout with teachers that distorted minds might see as authoritarian oppressors. A blazing fantasy  finish like The Wild Bunch. The NRA has a perfect system. Arm potential perpetrators and then use fear of them to sell guns to everyone else.

I know a guy who was at that Congressional baseball practice where a Congressman nearly bled to death, and would have had another player not had a medical background. One bullet in his hip fractured bones and badly damaged internal organs. Three others were wounded before the shooter went down. My friend, a photographer, just missed being shot in the head. He knew everyone well and despite having experienced tough situations around the world he’s still getting over the mayhem at a baseball practice. Collective trauma hits everyone around. I think we have collective national trauma from news accounts, increasing fears for our children. For those distant from mass shootings, even small doses of trauma are cumulative, depressing and desensitizing us. Perhaps a national tipping point has been reached where NRA-coddling politicians will be held to account.

EDITOR’S NOTE: About ten-years ago, I had the unique opportunity to meet William “Bill” Bratton at a Los Angeles event. At that time he was Chief of the Los Angeles Police Department. He was a humble, soft spoken man with a distinct Boston accent. I recently saw him on cable news. He was posed the question if he thought school teachers should carry guns. Bratton called President Trump’s proposal to arm teachers “the height of lunacy.” Adding, “Are we also then going to arm school bus drivers and school crossing guards? The #NRA and gun manufacturers would love that.” He called the concept an “ill thought out” political band-aid. Instead, he called for improved background checks and regulations without loopholes.

The post What to Do When Confronted with the Ugly Lunacy the NRA inflicts on Us? The Yes Men Know. appeared first on Traveling Archive.

In the heart of Red-Rock country, Sedona lies in a canyon where rushing Oak Creek and the red-rock monoliths meet. It is spellbinding. No wonder U.S.A. Weekend voted Sedona the #1 Most Beautiful Place in America. Just a two hour drive from Phoenix and on the way to the Grand Canyon, Sedona is easily accessible.

Jeep tours through the back country is a great way to see some fantastic scenery and offers a thrilling ride. Horseback riding is also available. A stop at the Visitors Center will provide you with maps showing scenic routes to drive and hiking trails for all levels of hikers.

An artists’ haven, Sedona offers many galleries and artisan shops. The Spanish Colonial architecture of Tlaquepaque forms a village of great shops and restaurants. Hugh sycamore trees shade, fountains splash and there are colorful flowers for every season.

Sheltered by towering red cliffs, Enchantment Resort, nestled in Boynton Canyon, is a destination resort. The adobe casitas blend perfectly into the landscape and are equipped with every luxury. The scenery is totally captivating. The gorgeous red cliffs with the stunning greenery in the foreground is spectacular. Mii Amo, the spa at Enchantment, has been rated as one of the ten best spas in the country. The indoor and outdoor swimming pools take full advantage of the views and the list of services offered is extensive. Three restaurants on the grounds take care of dining needs. The Spa restaurant for guests who chose lite fare, the fantastic Yavapai restaurant has a four diamond rating from AAA and an award winning wine list. Yavapai serves breakfast, lunch, dinner and a Jazz Brunch on Sundays. Tii Gavo has a more casual atmosphere, offers outdoor seating with gorgeous views of the red cliffs and serves Southwest cuisine for lunch and dinner.

There are several hikes through Boynton Canyon that start at the resort. In addition to hiking, tennis is very popular, there are several courts and a tennis pro on duty. Enchantment also has a putting green, boce ball court and a ping pong table available for guest use.

L’Auberge de Sedona is a fine place for dinning. Terrace on the Creek offers lunch in a gorgeous setting on the banks of Oak Creek. The rushing creek and towering trees that shade it are magnificent. The well known L’Auberge Restaurant serves gourmet fare with a changing seasonal menu.

Picazzo’s serves gourmet pizzas, terrific organic salads and gluten free pasta. A casual restaurant with a wide menu, Picazzo’s is a favorite of the locals.

To seek out the spiritual side of Sedona, walk, hike or drive to a few of the vortices and experience the magnetic charge felt by many. The Chapel in the Rocks is not to be missed. Built into the side of a bluff, the Chapel looks out over the city and blesses it with its beauty.

Sedona exemplifies the great southwest, a place to return to again and again.

Sedona Chamber Visitors Center
800-288-7336 or 928-282-7722

Enchantment Resort
800-826-4180 or 928-282-2900

Mii Amo at Enchantment
928-203-8500

L’Auberge de Sedona
800-272-6777 or 520-282-1661

Tlaquepaque
928-282-4838

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