See the faces of the Chemakum hanging high and proud in The Common at Fort Worden, in Port Townsend.
Brian Goodman's photographs stunningly, sensitively capture the faces of the tribal youth, the determined future of the tribe, and the faces of their elders who are working to bring the Chemakum, quite literally, back to life in this place.
Check the Chemakum website for information about an in-depth talk about the tribe and its history being given by Rosalee Walz the (lead ?) Tribal Elder and others, coming in September, '24. Rosalee's face can be seen in the grouping, as well.
"I am time-tested." Amen, sister Barbara. I am using this from now on. As an elder (in the general sense, not the tribal sense) I love knowing what I know, having seen what I've seen, but damn I hate being invisible! I think that's why so many of us get feisty (and snippy) with our youngers.
Thanks, Kerry, for the birds and your techniques for snapping the skitterish ones AND for helping to bring the Chemakum into our lives again.
Barbara, I get what you're saying -- we're at the end of our lives -- which at times feels sad and scary. So now what are my choices. I'm not interested in "raging against the dying of the light." I'm just trying to maintain some degree of flexibility, agility, speed, balance, engagement and humor.
Barbara: I think aging on the Coast must be different from here in the Heartland. If anything, it's one long lament if not an "organ recital" every time two or more Boomers are within shouting distance of each other. The memory problems are real, but forgetting a favorite movie is nothing compared to the erosion of short-term memory. And, on top of the genetic roulette, you can add the hard choices facing anyone or any family without the resources for assisted living, etc. Am I complaining? I must be old.
Oh that "organ recital" brings back memories! My Midwestern aunties would spend hours describing their creeky parts and their ailments with one another. Sometimes it seemed like a contest as to who was in the worst shape. I have to say I'm glad to live in an era with joint replacements and decent, non-addictive pain meds. No wonder my grandmother was so cranky - she was in constant pain. Now if I could just remember where I put my keys...
See the faces of the Chemakum hanging high and proud in The Common at Fort Worden, in Port Townsend.
Brian Goodman's photographs stunningly, sensitively capture the faces of the tribal youth, the determined future of the tribe, and the faces of their elders who are working to bring the Chemakum, quite literally, back to life in this place.
Check the Chemakum website for information about an in-depth talk about the tribe and its history being given by Rosalee Walz the (lead ?) Tribal Elder and others, coming in September, '24. Rosalee's face can be seen in the grouping, as well.
"I am time-tested." Amen, sister Barbara. I am using this from now on. As an elder (in the general sense, not the tribal sense) I love knowing what I know, having seen what I've seen, but damn I hate being invisible! I think that's why so many of us get feisty (and snippy) with our youngers.
Kerry, the choices this week were devilish.
Thanks, Kerry, for the birds and your techniques for snapping the skitterish ones AND for helping to bring the Chemakum into our lives again.
Barbara, I get what you're saying -- we're at the end of our lives -- which at times feels sad and scary. So now what are my choices. I'm not interested in "raging against the dying of the light." I'm just trying to maintain some degree of flexibility, agility, speed, balance, engagement and humor.
Ditto about movies that make old age appear "cute" and comical.
Barbara: I think aging on the Coast must be different from here in the Heartland. If anything, it's one long lament if not an "organ recital" every time two or more Boomers are within shouting distance of each other. The memory problems are real, but forgetting a favorite movie is nothing compared to the erosion of short-term memory. And, on top of the genetic roulette, you can add the hard choices facing anyone or any family without the resources for assisted living, etc. Am I complaining? I must be old.
Oh that "organ recital" brings back memories! My Midwestern aunties would spend hours describing their creeky parts and their ailments with one another. Sometimes it seemed like a contest as to who was in the worst shape. I have to say I'm glad to live in an era with joint replacements and decent, non-addictive pain meds. No wonder my grandmother was so cranky - she was in constant pain. Now if I could just remember where I put my keys...