It was July 16th, 1969. The summer before my senior year in high school. I had been enthralled with space, science fiction and John F. Kennedy’s audacious commitment to putting people on the moon before the end of that decade. I thought I might be able to join NASA and become an astronaut.
I had gotten up before sunrise to experience the countdown and to see the 6:32 a.m. launch. When the rocket lifted from the launch pad, my heart was full of amazement, pride in our country and high expectations for my own future in space. I was 16 years old.
A fairly large portion of the population in the U.S. apparently thinks that highlighting the horrible parts of our country’s past is somehow unpatriotic, unnecessary or shameful. To me, the only shame would be not illuminating the periodic darkness that our nation has gone through. To learn from the past and be better people because of that knowledge is to pursue the “more perfect union” described in our Constitution. Thus, learning from our mistakes is the operational definition of “patriotic”.
In that spirit, I’d like to share a posting about the history of a specific time and region of northern California. I received this from my cousin Doozy. She was born and raised in the Klamath River area, near the Oregon border. Her mom, my aunt Evelyn, is a direct descendant of the native people described in this historical account. The only reason I had an aunt Evelyn and still have my cousin Doozy, is because their ancestors were among the few survivors of one such terrible period of our country.
(Credit for the original posting shown below goes to: The Hidden Historian, Facebook Group. I checked the information. It’s accurate.)
The best advice I got about this was from my first boss in Corporate Land. Lou said, “Don’t trust anyone else with your future.” He went on to explain.
“No one can unconditionally guarantee your livelihood, a promotion, a raise, a specific role. Even people with employment agreements can’t stop a bankruptcy. So we must look after our own future. Each of us makes the decision to stay or go, in any business relationship, day by day.”
If you are to be fully accountable for what your life’s experiences are, particularly in your career, but really in every aspect of life, it means you have to know what you want, first of all. Too often we pick a direction or a career goal without enough thought, research and consideration, especially in our early years when we don’t have enough information to make an informed choice. But after a couple of wrong turns, we begin to understand ourselves better and what we truly want.
[This is a guest piece from Serra Sewitch-Posey, reprinted from her Substack channel with permission. Copyright 2025 Serra Sewitch-Posey.]
A local artist I admire did a post about a good friend of hers who just died. He was not an old man. But he was suddenly and inexplicably riddled with tumors. She shared a video of him strutting and dancing down the sidewalk toward the camera, lavender shirt and white jeans, wild curly hair and beard--totally expressive and free, moving with unselfconscious joy.
I find his Instagram account and see pictures of his cool, weird sculptural art; him smiling with his smiling wife; both of them wearing bike helmets. There are videos of him making experimental music with keyboards and xylophones,then playing a thick purple carrot carved into a flute-like instrument. There's a photo of his baby looking up sweetly and holding one of her feet. So many pictures of unexplainable, flamboyant images, bits of the world that he found beautiful.
I find his wife's account and there's all this sweetness. Him and his kid, holding hands and walking silly down the street. Him swinging the kid around in a milk crate.
One photo that stops my heart for a moment was of him and his child hugging, the kid's face hidden and dad's face tragic, eyes closed in pain and love. Trying to hold on and knowing he can't hold on forever...he knows he has so little time left.
Then there's his wife's updates on his health, with an image of their hands holding tight on the hospital bed.
He was a real person.
I mean, a real person. Apparently, really living. He seems like someone who couldn't stop himself from creating, couldn't fail to emit love and brilliance, had to move wildly and weirdly. Maybe he somehow knew a long time ago that his time would be cut short.
