Even on World AIDS Day, I was finding the hope for and the encouragement for action to change the problems of AIDS and poverty in Africa hard to find. Oh, people were all about the talk, but not the walk. Disgruntled and a little discouraged (but not defeated, never defeated) I wandered into my living room and flipped on the Colbert Report. He had, as his guest, Sherman Alexie.
For those of you who aren't familiar, Sherman Alexie is a Native American (Spokane/Coeur d'Alene) writer who's written tons of awesome books. He gives glimpses into what it means to be a Native today, and how that culture struggles to survive in today’s technological fast paced world. He is the voice to the opportunity cost of progress.
I suggest taking a brief moment out of your day to check out either Alexie’s site or his appearance on Colbert. Never before have I seen Colbert bested, close, but never bested, until last night.
Last night, Alexie stood up for culture, the culture of story telling, specifically. I'm not talking about sitting around a fire and telling stories, we're talking about a community joining together to embrace a story, people stopping to savor a book, or a poem, or well written newspaper. There was a time where -believe it or not- people would get together with their friends and share poems and stories they'd written as a popular form of entertainment. There was a time when a poet was respected, when our culture might not have kept every writer fed but it was no disgrace to choose the written word for a life plan. That same culture demanded that the writers know how to write, that they be well read, that they stuck to some basic rules of grammar, that they didn't spell "car corner" "kar Korna". That culture which was a common thread between all cultures -all Native tribes, English, French, Chinese, Russian, German, Indian, Swahili- is in a state of decline and on the verge of being lost to a world of poorly written 140 character posts.
Tell me how much can be said in 140 characters and spaces or less. Tell me how long those words stay with you. Tell me everyone in your neighborhood identifies with those words. Tell me you discuss a blog over coffee. Tell me a zest for words and a flourish to a story can be loved and not mocked as melodramatic. Tell me English majors aren't the only ones who don't laugh a poetic venture. Tell me Alexie isn't fighting a losing battle.
Song for the day: Skywatcher by Xanadu
And the sun sets over the trees,
and the clouds roll in before dark
The skywatchers shows them all
as the darkness comes on in. Right on in.
The stars they fill the sky
The moons they fill his eyes
He is sitting in the medow
Watching the satelights
He's the sky watcher
He's the sky watcher
Watching the sky falling away
Watching the clouds move on for another day
He's the sky watcher
He's the sky watcher
The sky it turns its colors
For the night is setting in
Sky watcher takes his place
For his heart is lost in space
People never knew what he does
They never did
They just laugh and call him names
Until the sky began to rain
You see, he knew there was something more
He knew they wouldn't understand
Never had a normal life to love
Received his life from the sky above
He's the sky watcher
He's the sky watcher
Watching the sky falling away
Watching the clouds move on for another day
He's the sky watcher
He's the sky watcher
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