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The Origins of Thanksgiving, According to the Snipe Clan
Someone called “Senator Kayse Jama (He/Him)” (apparently Jama is an Oregon State Senator**) has linked–on his Twitter account–to this person:
No idea who Anessa Hartman Haudenosaunee is, but, Lord, I love the fact that she’s a member of something called the “Snipe Clan.” (It’s the pedant in me. So sorry if that’s triggering.)
And, wait…what? I thought Lincoln proclaimed the fourth Thursday of every November an official “Thanksgiving” holiday largely to commemorate Union victories in the American Civil War (particularly the one at Gettysburg). And that–actually–he was simply codifying George Washington’s original intention from the last decades of the eighteenth century.
Am I wrong? Inquiring minds (mine, anyway) would like to know.
Or, is this just another Leftist nutball who’s detached herself from reality and the facts in order to spin a comfortable narrative that suits her (I’ve not checked its pronouns) narrative?
** As described on his Twitter profile, in order of precedence: “Somali-American. Son of a Camel Herder. Father of Twins.”
Published in General
You would definitely look good but I think it might be distracting.
I’m reasonably well-read, but I’ve never heard of this.
I was sent on one when I was a tyke.
Thank God we don’t have an HR department.
Yes, we’d all like that. Unfortunately, though, I can name a couple of people even on this site who’d have called me a racist or something. We should all aim for the day when you don’t have to have “credentials” for speaking your mind on any topic.
It’s very nice but I only wear steel toes.
I’d do it for you if it would make you feel better.
They don’t teach history in public high schools, they teach…well I don’t know what you call it but it isn’t history.
I smile, I grin when the gal with a touch of sin walks in
I hope, and I pray for Hester to win one more ‘A’
The sadder but wiser girl’s the girl for me…
Still a classic:
For book about the Dakota War in Minnesota, the below are the most substantial ones. They aren’t just about the war, though. If you’re just looking at the armed violence, the Dakota War of 1862 might be seen as Chapter 2 in a series that started with the Spirit Lake massacre in 1857, and continued to Custer’s Last Stand and Wounded Knee. But there were a lot of cultural conflicts, too, and these books help with an understanding of those, too.
History of the Santee Sioux: United States Indian Policy on Trial, by Roy W. Meyer. 1967 (first edition). This was the book that, when I read it in 1966, caused me to rethink a lot of what I knew about North American Indians, although I had already done some reading before that. Getting angry about the Iroquois-Constitution nonsense that was being taught in schools had got me to dig into some history, too, a few years earlier.
That summer I had gotten interested in the Black Hawk War of 1832, and visited a lot of the historic sites in between baseball games on a three-week bicycle ride to games in all of the ballparks in the Midwest League (Class A Minor League Baseball). I had read a book by Allan Eckert (Twilight of Empire) that got me interested in seeing the exact places where things had happened. And in reading that book I was struck by the similarities between Black Hawk and Newt Gingrich. They each had their own GOPe to hinder them in their efforts to resist the enemy, and they had some similar personality characteristics, too. For a while I thought I should write a book showing the parallels, but then my scientific training woke up and I realized that it wouldn’t be quite honest, because the parallels don’t always work. I should just play it straight and not try to force the story into a preconceived narrative. But whether it’s during the cultural, political, and political conflict of the Black Hawk war, the Dakota history, or any of a number of conflicts, I am always awake to the similarities in the cultural conflicts between ourselves and the wokists and in way the conquerors of NorthAmerican Indians are analogous to the statists who are now defeating us.
Roy Meyer was an academic, by the way, but was an English professor (at Mankato State) more than a Historian, though he had some training in both English and History.
I’ve read two other books recently about the Dakota people (other than tourist guides to the sites of the 1862 war). Both are by Gary Clayton Anderson.
One is Kinsmen of Another Kind: Dakota-White Relations in the Upper Mississippi Valley, 1650-1862 (1984).
The other is Massacre in Minnesota: The Dakota war of 1862, the Most Violent Ethnic Conflict in American History. (2019)
One is the product of his early career, and the other of his later career. He did revise some of his information as he learned more, but the two books complement each other pretty well.
For a book on the Pilgrims, the Mayflower, and King Phillip’s War, I thought Nathaniel Philbrick’s Mayflower: A Story of Courage, Community, and War was pretty good. I must confess that I “read” it only on audio, though. I just now saw that a kindle version is pretty cheap, so added it to my Kindle queue.
I must confess that’s just about the only book I’ve read in recent decades on that part of our history. On other topics I follow up with a lot of other reading, from older local histories to newer scholarly histories, partly because I’m always looking for bicycle destinations. I don’t plan to do any riding in New England, so am not so motivated to dig deeply into that history.
But in 2010 when Mrs R and I spent a few days in a B&B overlooking the harbor in Plymouth, I had a chance to try out some of my knowledge of Algonquian languages (mostly Ojibwe) on the young costumed participants in the historic Indian village nearby. They came from various “local” Indian groups, and hadn’t known about the similarities in some of the words in commonly-used names, and seemed to enjoy learning about them. It made a good conversation starter, anyway. But that’s true of a lot of topics. I know barely enough to get involved in some interesting conversations.
Thank you. What great resources we have here, on just about any subject under the sun.
If my granddaughter (13 now) hadn’t been with her Dad for Thanksgiving, she’d have been down on the farm with her mother and me, and we’d have watched The Music Man together. By the time she was about eight, I’d had to buy a new disk because the old one had worn out. When she was very small, we watched it over three nights, as that was her attention span, and we had to explain bits to her. It was, and remains, her favorite “pretty dancing movie.”
One of my former supervisors discovered he was part Cherokee, and he got all into learning everything about them.
I’m half Norwegian, so I’m looking forward to playing Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla on my computer . . .
Feelings Studies.
The kids, by way of their mom, are 1/8 Comanche. So they are in the minority (they are also Trumpophiles.). Interesting, because I was born in Quanah.
Oh my goodness! Thank you very much! I am quite grateful that you would put so much thought and effort into this. It will not go to waste. Thank you.
Amen.
What frosts my cookies (in relation to some of the above discussion) are people who trot out family relationships in order to deploy ‘race tokens’ and give themselves (in their moronic and dysfunctional brains) some sort of imaginary authority in the “I am not a racist” sweepstakes.
Obviously (I hope it’s obvious), I’m not talking about any of the folks on this thread. I’m talking about the people who, in conversations about racism and related issues insist on introducing–out of the blue–the fact that they’re married to a [insert minority class] man or woman, or that their children are one-half, or one-quarter, some-other-race, and so therefore–since they’ve embraced and provided for the minority class for fumpty-years, they’re off the hook. Unfortunately, I know a few people who do this. And I know that “Cow One is not always Cow Two.” So when they assert whatever it is that’s their conclusion, I’m not obliged to agree.
We really do live in an upside-down world. It ought to be perfectly fine to say things like, “Hey! My (almost) sister-in-law is an Indian (East, not Red), and she’s taught me to make the most fabulous [insert items of culinary genius here].” But if I do that, both she and I may be accused, on the one hand, of Uncle-Tomism, and on the other, of cultural abuse.
Just as poor Karen Templer, whose post (thanks to a moron named Alex**) started much of the international upset in the crafting world, was vilified for expressing her perfectly innocent dream of living the joys, warmth and color of India itself. It seems that stretching beyond our boundaries, wanting to visit and experience other cultures as different from our own in an inquiring spirit is somehow threatening to those who don’t actually belong to that culture, but who are on patrol to make sure we don’t trangress and offend them–on behalf of those who actually do have a stake in the matter.
Outrage by proxy. That’s what it is.
This nonsense will end only when we’re able to address each other as people, and not as representatives of race, class, ethnicity, or anything else. I hope that day comes soon.
It was only years later that I learned why the Scots cabbie out of Aberdeen grew hostile and quit talking to me when he learned I was descended from, among others, the Campbell clan.
Sometimes it just takes a very long time to get over things.
If your cultural (or any other) identity is based on how pissed you are at those people, it can last forever.
Can it ever.
LOL.
I just finished driving through Quanah twenty minutes ago.
I ate at an Amish restaurant.
I once worked at an Amish restaurant. (Strange but true.)
On an episode of British murder mystery series Midsomer Murders, the murder victim was a woman killed by a descendant of a family her family had bested in a church bell ringing contest 500 years ago.
This why I am a fan of Christianity outside of the Church. Christian forgiveness can really help with humanity’s insane capacities for grudges.
In Quanah???
Shipshewana.
Racist? We’re not even speciesist. I mean, my wife married a Neanderthal.