Anyone who has never faced malicious brutality is unqualified to judge anyone who has. Lotsa folks are imbued with armchair bravery...but it's no substitute for the actual intestinal fortitude or character of those under fire.
Freezing black water - up to my chest - in the middle of a brittle cold Steamboat Springs winter night. I was 6 yrs old. Too terrified to scream. The barrel of a loaded 30.30 waved in erratic jerks and circles 3 feet from my head. I'll never forget the demonic halo around his head from the porchlights beside the open front door behind us.His smell was strong and viciously mean - whiskey, and sweat, and piss. I was in an irrigation canal in front of our house where he had thrown me hard enough to bloody my scalp from being drug from the house by my hair. His screams were bellows of insanity - the request - over and over " You ready to die" "You Ready to die" "you little beaner fuck???" (Apparently Puerto-Rican was too hard to say.)
He had just brutally beaten the hell out of my mother, and then raped her viciously while I sat going crazy in the other room. When I heard her scream I pulled a chair over to the fireplace hearth climbed on it , and took the deer rifle from the gun-rack above the mantle. The cries when the belt he was swinging would slap against her head. She was fighting back - and losing. I opened the door and pointed the rifle at him . I was crying.
I had time to say "quit it" before his fist hit me in the stomach. He yanked the rifle from my hands as I fell. He kicked me clear across the room. He was her husband. Big drinker. Worthless white trash son-of-a-bitch that thought "nigger" was an adverb. Came home drunk every payday and beat the shit out of my Mom , and if that wasn't quite enough I was up next.
Moms face was a bloody mess and she begged him franticly- crying "Don't do it" "Let him alone" "Take me". She was dying inside. I was shivering so hard I couldn't hear. Couldn't feel my legs. Somehow - I'll never know how, she talked him back to the house and back to the cold beer she shoved in his hand over and over for the next 2 hrs. When he passed out we got in the car with my dog "Sport", a paper sack full of clothes, in wet blankets and pajamas, and never looked back.
This old memory doesn't come around often. It's everything about who I refuse to be and what I refuse to accept.
When I saw the pictures of the water protectors being sprayed down with water cannons in freezing temperatures - I remembered. When I saw the smoke and the muzzle flashes, women and old people choking from the tear gas and pepper spray - I remembered. When I saw peaceful people being brutalized at the hands of law enforcement, I remember all too vividly what complete helplessness really does feel like. Once you've experienced it - it never goes away completely.
I know what it's like to look evil in the eye and be at it's mercy. Anyone who doesn't should never assume they know what it's like - because they don't. I'm not 6 years old anymore. I stand with the protectors at Standing Rock for this reason first and foremost : What is happening to them is wrong. Simply wrong!
I'm leaving from Denver Sunday morning for the Rez with a generator, a big tent, and slug of donated clothes and winter gear. . I welcome anyone who wants to join me. A bunch of Veterans are going up this week as well. These brave souls are the only reason we've ever had a home. ( Native Americans contribute more people to the American m,military than any other group per capita). They are holding to their oath to defend this nation agains all enemies - foreign and domestic. I'm a smart-ass guitar-player - I swear to stand with them......all the way.
My Grandma taught me to pray. She never led me wrong and It's never let me down. I ask that we all pray for these folks in Standing Rock today - and while you're at it - thank heaven for our good fortune today - that we've been lucky enough to witness the gigantic courage of those who face abject malice with prayer, for the souls of their aggressors - and wanton destruction with uncrushable tenacity of spirit.










