I was down in the dumps for a while but then realized I was reading only about Trump, Custer and the newspaper business.
My spirits are lifting now. I know there is no saving of the newspaper business as I knew it, but I remain hopeful about journalism and journalists.
I foresee Trump following in the footsteps of Custer, in terms of over-confidence and miscalculation. I am not happy about a summer of heat, sweat and blood, but I have also learned that it rained in southeastern Montana on the night of June 25, 1876 — described as “cold and miserable” rain by Nathaniel Philbrick in The Last Stand but, I have to think, cleansing and hopeful, in other ways, during a hot, dry month.
Fortunately, I ran across Washington Post editor Martin Baron’s commencement address at Temple University, and appreciated his diagnosis of the times as well as his call to younger journalists: “Now you will be called upon to do remarkable things.”
Meanwhile, I have decided to have more fun.
I will continue to pursue my interest in the breaches of the Treaty of Laramie of 1868 as a key to understanding the transformation of a continent and the end of a way of life. But I also will continue trying to photograph green hummingbirds in cherry sage through my dining room window, with the efforts so far looking like this:
Why, I have asked, hide my beautiful, old Trucker skis in the garage, even if I haven’t used them in years and never used them very well?
Maybe I’ll get them on the snow next year.
My Custer reading continues to lead me down new trails. I’m a little embarrassed that I have only now gotten to James Welch, but am glad that I am there.
So, these notes are not just about losers.
Blue skies, too.