[Marxism] MORE THAN A FIGHTING CHANCE

["Hunter Gray" <hunterbadbear@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

For the most part, I am less inclined these days to deal publicly -- and I
say, publicly -- with my personal health problems.  Things are depressing
enough for any sensitive folk anywhere.  On the other hand, I have gotten
several very reasonable personal inquiries -- so I will say a few words in a
few moments.

But first --

When we initially moved here to Pocatello in late summer, '97, we did
encounter a great deal of official, usually covert hostility from every
"lawman"  level save that of the Bannock County sheriff's department:
Surveilled, followed, phone problems, first class mail and Priority stuff
blatantly interfered with and many packages deliberately opened in crude
fashion. [ Some things were damaged, often substantially, and at least a few
things were lost.] All of this went on for several years -- occasionally
laced with obviously racist stuff.  We fought back via formal verbal and
written complaints -- and, six years ago, launched our now massive
Hunterbear website.  Most fundamentally, we did not even consider leaving.
Our reasons for initially coming here are explained in my long piece,
http://www.hunterbear.org/GRAY%20LANDS%20AND%20GRAY%20GHOSTS.htm

>From the beginning, almost all of our neighbors were very friendly -- and
certainly remain so.  Many, I should add, are Mormon.  Thomas [grandson/son]
is a top basketball player and was almost immediately received happily into
one of the leading LDS student-age teams; and, in due course, also became a
mainstay of a major team on the nearby Fort Hall [Shoshone/Bannock]
reservation.  We made connections with Natives and Chicanos [and the small
groups of "Others"] as well as Anglos [labor and clergy especially] --
although some academics at Idaho State University  remain fearful of
association with us [me.]  Thomas and Josie are both, however, grads of
Idaho State -- as well as Poky High.  We have done our best to make
ourselves useful in advocate and related capacities.

And Eldri and the whole family are certainly reassuring folks.

All of this is a long story -- that's gotten steadily and substantially
better.  In addition to a new and much better police chief [brought in from
afar and a sometime fellow hiker in the hills], there have been an
increasing number of speaking things for me and accompanying media
interviews and coverage.  We liked, btw, last week's feature story and
photos which I posted here and there.
http://www.hunterbear.org/hunter_gray_in_the_gem_state.htm  I should add
that the photographer, young enough to be a grandson, explained to me
beforehand that he liked to spend some time getting to know a subject before
he photoed. I have dealt with many new photographers in my life but never
before one who did that -- and he did it very well.  He spent an hour with
good questions and proved a fine listener. His photo of me is now much on
our website.

So this piece of things is working through very nicely.

The Lupus thing, frankly, is more problematic than it's been for a long
time.  Although substantial blood tests and periodic eye exams indicate
nothing relatively alarming at this point, I am weak -- weaker -- and
consistently have to sit at a mike when I give a talk. Feet and legs can be
uncooperative. There are weird rashes and unpleasant skin breakouts that
last a long time.  I sleep badly for the most part and, lately, that very
faithful and psychic bell-wether, Cloudy the Bobcat mix, now sleeps
immediately adjacent to me -- as does another cat, Wooly II.  Docs continue
to say there is no cure and hoped-for new medicines seem as mirage-like as
Cool Water in the Furnace Mountains of Death Valley.

A good lady friend, whose SLE is as bad as mine, had hoped for more of a
medicinally-effective experience but is now gearing up for Johns Hopkins [at
Baltimore] since signs of CNS [Central Nervous System] disorder have become
apparent -- a not uncommon result of Lupus. [Others in our very small Lupus
circle have been hospitalized.] SLE is, of course, genetic -- and our
Maryland-bound friend and her husband watch their children as we watch our
kids and grandchildren. I could joke her husband sardonically by telling him
that his chances of contracting SLE Lupus, as a Caucasian male, are about
one in ten thousand -- whereas with Us [minorities and women], though still
a rather rare thing, it's much, much more likely. But I did point out that I
am certain Caucasian males have as many medical crosses to bear in their own
right.  It's now clear that I have carried my SLE for at least forty
years -- a mild upsurge 'way back which I fought off without docs; then,
some odd things along the way; and the big explosion in the summer of 2003.
Dad, very Native, did not have it -- we never even heard of it -- but it's
obviously from his line and, in the Older Time, was probably interpreted as
witch-craft which may be as reasonable an explanation as any.

But my mind is very clear and, even when my hands become cramped, I can type
well enough to post letters and list-messages.  For someone who, until
December '98, knew nothing of computers, this advance into Tech has been a
Godsend.  And so are our many good friends from afar -- some old, many new.

We continue to hope that my old immunity, traditionally very powerful, can
rise up and force this thing into really long term remission -- as happened
'way back in my much younger days.  And there are mornings especially where
things -- however temporarily -- seem more OK.  Early this morning, I
watched once again, now via DVD, the HBO film, In Pursuit of Honor. In this
essentially true story from about the time I was born,  a handful of
commendably maverick U.S. Army cavalrymen defy "authority" [including the
Ultimate: General Douglas MacArthur], and take 400 horses -- who are facing
literal genocide from an Army moving into full-scale mechanization -- from
the Mexican border [probably at Ft Huachuca] to Canada and very receptive
safety. [I continue to hope that Canada, in which I have far more relatives
on both sides of my family than in the 'States, will once again be fully
receptive to all U.S. refugees.]

But we ourselves do intend to remain right here, "In the Mountains of
Eastern Idaho," and we shall certainly continue to try to make ourselves
useful. When I see the rare fog outside, as today, I remember the Old
Wobblies of my youth in Seattle -- and I know our momentarily clouded
mountains right here are still there.

 And when I watched our fine "Horse movie" early this morning, I recalled
how it played frequently on HBO more than two years ago and was always seen
faithfully by me when, in various quickly sequential time periods, I was
undergoing all sorts of medically diagnostic tests -- lots of blood,
colonoscopy, bone marrow, cat scans, X-Rays, Whatever.  Then, the obvious
medical presumption was that I suffered from some sort of profound and
exotic blood cancer.  To be frank about it, none of those physicians seemed
then to know anything about Lupus [nor did we] but, when it was finally
diagnosed, again and yet again and again, and That was truly It, they have
learned much quickly and well from me!

So when I see In Pursuit of Honor -- bright and uplifting in the midst of
great drama -- I always remember those days when "In X hours, we have to see
Dr so-and-so for the results of the Latest Expedition into me."  If It had
been one of the expected blood cancers, there would be more of a specific
time-line.  But I'll take this SLE -- acute as mine is -- and an almost
literal Clock Without Hands.  The uncertainty of it all gives me at least
the sense of a Fighting Chance. And, with those things all around us in
which we believe, however Unseen they may be, I have more -- much more --
than simply that.

"Nothing lives long," goes a time-honored Native death song, "Only the Earth
and the Mountains."  We have to do our very best in the time space allotted
us.  We will.

HUNTER GRAY  [HUNTER BEAR/JOHN R SALTER JR]   Mi'kmaq /St. Francis
Abenaki/St. Regis Mohawk
www.hunterbear.org
Protected by Na´shdo´i´ba´i´
 and Ohkwari'


Check out our big page on the art and practice of Community Organizing
http://www.hunterbear.org/my_combined_community_organizing.htm

In our Gray Hole, the ghosts often dance in the junipers and sage, on the
game trails, in the tributary canyons with the thick red maples, and on the
high windy ridges -- and they dance from within the very essence of our own
inner being. They do this especially when the bright night moon shines down
on the clean white snow that covers the valley and its surroundings.  Then
it is as bright as day -- but in an always soft and mysterious and
remembering way. [Hunter Bear]







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