...thank you for poking around in the Reagan archives so the rest of us don't have to. It's interesting reading for those of us, like myself, who didn't grow up in eastern Connecticut, didn't grow up anywhere near the Mashantucket Pequots or their pre-recognition reservation.
I did, however, grow up across a river valley from Stateville, one of Illinois' esteemed penitentiaries. In the winter, when the leaves were off the trees, the glow from the institution's orange sodium lights could be seen through the picture window in the living room. As I grew up, I got used to passing anti-death penalty protesters rallying before executions as I drove to go the movies or the mall. Occasionally, someone visiting us would bristle at the closeness of the facility with its high walls frosted with silver curls of barbed wire. I'd just shrug. "They stay over there," I used to say, "and we stay over here." There was no secret, no hiding, no subterfuge. It was a prison and that was just that.
When I first started covering Connecticut's casinos and their tribal owners a year ago, I thought the situation must have been similar between Ledyard and the Mashantuckets. And, oh wow, was I wrong. If I had a buck (inflation's rough, you know), for every time someone pulled me aside and told me, off the record of course, how the tribe seemed to come out of nowhere, well, I'd at least be able to buy a tank of gas (about 17 gallons, thank you) for my daily ride.
It's been nearly 25 years since the Mashantuckets became a tribe and, in another 25 years, there will be fewer and fewer people who remember what Ledyard was like pre-Pequot. Do you? How about Mashantucket members before the federal government made them a tribe?
I'd love to hear your stories if you do. Sharing, you know, is caring....
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
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Born and raised here in Southeastern Ct, specifically Norwichtown, CT. Attended the John Mason Public School and went to Easter morning sunrise church service on a high rock in Norwichtown in my white patent leather shoes, a fancy 'Sears and Robuck' Dress and Easter Bonnet. Only heard about Indians just before Thanksgiving at school every year.
I was taught in school that Indians were friendly people who Pilgrims sat down with and ate a friendly meal with in Massachusetts decades before. That state seemed far way and I always wondered what happened to those friendly Indians. No recognition was ever given to the fact that some of my fellow Public School classmates were Native Americans. It was a well kept secret that enabled young Americans of mixed blood to survive though the hositilites of the fifties and sixties. We had a bond , listened, and began to understand.
I wondered then more about about why there were white only restrooms in the public library and why Jewish school mates had extra school days off. I also wondered why my immediate family had predudices against peoples of African and Jewish descent. I grieved because young male neighbors were killed in the Vietnam War. I did not know what they were dying for so I became a war resister.
President Kennedy was shot and killed in Texas while we were still being taught to put our heads between our knees and kiss our asses good bye if we heard sirens during school and that Russia was our worst enemy.
I played Cowboys and Indians with my half brother and I always lost. I always played the Indian and always questioned why I had to lose.
All the television shows of my childhood were predjudiced against any minority, displayed Native American people and other minorities as ignorant. At my young age, I already knew better. Prejudice angered me. I learned as I grew older that the truth about American History as it had been taught to me, was false. Truth had been hidden from me. My Native American friends were poor and proud. They continued to honor their ansestors. They continued to share their stories with me. I listened.
The truth about my own personal family history had been hidden from me. I was the ignorant one. I now know that my heritage is of mixed blood. Many bloods. I am a proud American.
The Native American Indian has always known the truth deep inside and shared that truth. That truth is that questions from descendants of Native Americans were answered with lies. The Truth can no longer be denied. Pure blooded American people of European descent are just beginning to understand how broken United States Government Treaties and lies spoken to trusting Native American Representatives have had negative consequenses.
Americans, we are Americans. We must always teach and share the truth with our children. We must respect each other and learn from each other. The days of 'Ozzie and Harriet' ended a long time ago.
The world is watching. We must amend our differences and unite or our chidren will suffer. We must learn and learn quickly or we will suffer the consequences. Your vote is important. United We Stand or divided We fall.
Wake up and smell the coffee.
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