December 4th, Sunday

It was around 2:30 in the morning that a couple of guys came in and woke us up. Apparently, there was going to be an "action" and they needed all hands on deck. I was groggy until they said they especially needed medics because they were thinking there may be GSW's... gunshot wounds. That woke me up fast.

The man who was talking told us we needed to go as quickly as possible, so I got into my cold weather gear, grabbed my medic kit, and headed out to warm up the car. Then I waited.

Then I waited some more.

Then I waited some more.

Then I went and talked to the guy who had awakened us, because I saw him standing at the door.

"Didn't you say this was urgent?" I asked.

"It is." He said. "We're just waiting on the other vets to get dressed"

Apparently my old medic days of being ready to go at a moments notice were still sharp, because it took us nearly a half hour to get everyone dressed, loaded and rolling.

We rolled in a big convoy up into the camp. It was very dark, save for the big floodlights the DAPL people had set up to shine down on conflict areas. The camp had grown even more since the last time I had been there, and with the addition of the snow covering, I quickly lost my bearings as I followed the convoy in.

We parked and mustered out in a small, snow covered field and listened as the Native CO and Sgt. Major told us what was up.

Apparently, there was a group of 60 or so natives that were labeled as agitators. This group had been responsible for starting conflicts with the police, and going against what the Elders wanted, which was peace and prayer. So, now that the veteran had arrived, the Elders wanted us to go search the agitators tents for weapons, as they had been rumored to have firearms amongst them. As one of four medics, I was held back from the strike force, which was fine by me for a couple of reasons.

First, I have zero desire to go rushing off, looking for people with guns to tell them I have to take their guns away.

Second, it seemed strange to me that a bunch of white, military vets were being used to go through a native camp looking for guns. Seemed a little too 'Wounded Knee'-ish, to me.

Fortunately, as things were developing, the Elders decided to handle it in the old way and took a pipe to meet with the leader of the agitator faction. From what I heard, they smoked the pipe together and talked about the issues currently taking place. The leader of the agitators gave permission for their tents to be searched for weapons, and agreed to stand down from aggressive actions at the bridge and Turtle Island.

So, after standing around in the snow and cold for a few hours, we headed back to Ft. Yates to try and get a little sleep.

When we got back, there were some people packing up to go to a local gym, some that wanted to head for camp, and some, like the four of us medics, that just wanted to sleep for awhile.

That first medic team was comprised of Laura, Tammy, Terry and myself. We decided to stay together in case anyone needed to find us. That way we could do things as a group instead of being lone medics wandering around. So we tucked back into our sleeping gear...

for about twenty minutes.

Then word came down that the building that we were in was going to be used for something else, and we'd have to head out. We had our choice of a gym across the street or a community center up in Cannon Ball. We decided to head up to Cannon Ball, since that was only a couple miles from the camp, and Ft. Yates was a good twenty to thirty minute drive. Besides, maybe at Cannon Ball we could figure out what was going on a little better.

So, we packed up all of our gear, and Laura, Terry and I headed North to Cannon Ball. Tammy went to scout out the gym, but would later join us at the Cannon Ball location.

Upon arrival at the Cannon Ball Community Center (CBCC), we walked in to organized chaos. Nobody there had heard anything from higher leadership, so - being military type folks - decided to just start getting stuff organized and moving forward. They had formed their own detachment, but had no medical people, so we decided to set up a medical area, and start locating any and all medics we could find to start a medic platoon.

Pretty soon we had gathered about a dozen medics, all of various skill levels, and were gathering medical supplies in a central area.

I really liked the folks that had stepped up to lead us. Chris, an older guy who seemed to know what he was doing, and a Marine JAG named Mel, who relayed information as she got it, which wasn't often.

Having just a couple hours of sleep, I had stretched out all my sleeping gear and was trying to find a good time for a nap. People kept arriving, and the mood seemed pretty jovial as we settled in.

Then the New Yorkers got fussy.

They had come as a group, most of them - like the rest of us - expecting the mission to be standing between water protectors and "authorities" on the front lines. One guy was telling anyone that would listen how he figured it was better if he took the bullets than a water protector, and I just wanted to say "Dude... you're preaching to the choir here. Relax. Get some chow. Get some sleep. try to be flexible."

Unfortunately, the New York brigade had not heard the elders in the meeting of the night before say that our mission had changed. So when they found out about that, they were pretty pissy.

Medic Laura stepped up and tried to talk to them about what we had heard. A couple of native elders also spoke to the group to try and calm them down. But they didn't seem to want to hear that we were there to pray.

Pretty soon, they had loaded up in a U-Haul with the back open and a couple of pickups to "head for the front lines!" I called them the Rambo Brigade. Damn the orders! Full speed ahead!

Now, to be fair, I was VERY tired. I am also aware that my limited exposure to Lakota culture and teachings is more than likely WAY more than any of them had, so my distaste at them going against the elders just didn't resonate with any of them. They were there to get in the fight, and they wanted to show they hadn't come all this way for nothing.

So I held my words and let them go. I figured that they'd be corrected when they got to the camp.

We continued to try and contact anyone higher up the chain of command and find out what we were supposed to be doing, but communication was terrible. Information that came down was sketchy and often conflicted with things we had heard moments earlier. Throughout the day we had orders to:

1. Meet at Cannon Ball field for formation and practice. (though we didn't know what we were practicing for or where Cannon Ball Field was.)

2. Meet at the casino for a briefing at 1800.

3. Meet at the casino for a briefing at 0800 the next day.
4. Meet at Ft. Yates for a briefing at 1800.

5. Meet at the first building we met at in Ft. Yates to form into platoons and such.

6. Meet at the camp asap to form into platoons and such.

7. Stand by to receive 200 busloads of veterans at our location, then at camp, then at the casino, then with us again, then at Ft. Yates.

8. Stay where we were to form into platoons and such.

9. Head to camp for a ceremony at 1300...or 1500...or 1600...or 1800... or maybe for dinner.

Mel handed down the most reliable information, so I gravitated towards just listening to her.

I had moved my vehicle away from a fire hydrant so a camp water truck could resupply when I got the initial news that DAPL had been denied the permit to drill under the river.

I checked Facebook, as I had spotty connection with that, but saw nothing about it yet. So I prayed that it was one of those actually TRUE rumors and got back to work.  Within an hour it had been confirmed.

I can't tell you the relief that washed over me at that moment. Followed shortly by dread.

I heard a lot of people saying "We've won! It's all over!", and for a little bit, I indulged in that celebration as well. But it occurred to me that perhaps this was just another stall tactic. Obviously the arrival of 4000 vets had scared the "authorities" a bit. As it was, it was shaping up to be a PR nightmare. Cops firing on Veterans? That would have been horrific. Now rumors were swirling that the police were going to back away from the bridge. Some talk floated around of swarming the bridge. Most of us who had stayed behind when the Rambo Brigade left were going to honor what the Elders had asked us to do and just sit tight and pray.

Part of me wanted to celebrate. But the other part of me, the part that has read the history books, was uneasy. How many times in the past had the army, or police, or some other force told the Indians that they were going to back off. That if the Indians just calmed down and stepped back, they'd be just fine. Sand Creek. Wounded Knee. The entire ploy of giving tribes until Jan 1st in the late 1800's to go to a reservation or be considered 'hostile'. It has all played out again like that in todays North Dakota.

"Go back across the Cannon Ball river, or you'll be considered hostile."

"Since you called us bad names, we were totally justified in using fire hoses on you in freezing weather."

This just felt wrong. It felt like a ploy to get veterans to leave. To leave the water protectors vulnerable again.

But, I assured myself that surely the elders and leaders of this movement will see through the ploy. We veterans weren't going to go anywhere! Some of us would be there for a week, then others would come in, and so on and so on, because that's what the plan had been. To put boots on the ground to stop the violation of human rights. When I went back into the CBCC, we were being notified that we'd all have to move to the gym in Ft. Yates because the Navajo code talkers and water protectors were arriving and would be using this space.

See? Lots more vets coming in! We could keep the pressure on and make sure this thing got shut down! My spirits were lifted, and I didn't mind packing up and moving if it was for the Navajo.

So, without getting any sleep yet, we once again packed our gear and prepared to move. We had accumulated a LOT of extra medical supplies, and Laura, who became the person we followed, made the suggestion that we keep our jump kits and some small supplies, but take all the extra stuff up to camp, since it was a couple miles away, and would be where it was most needed in the coming days. We agreed that that was a good plan, and she and Terry loaded that stuff up for delivery while I went down to find the gym in Ft. Yates and secure us a medical area. Before I left, I was introduced to Frances, a Coeur d'Alene elder who loaned her van to her nephews and didn't have a ride down to Ft. Yates. I happily loaded her gear into my vehicle and had a delightful talk with her on the trip down. 

Arriving at the AJ Agard Multipurpose Center (AJAMC), I was greeted by a little more organization. Just barely.

They had been telling people to head up to CBCC for billeting, but had just received word to start taking people in there. Apparently with the school week starting the next day, we'd all need to leave overnight or in the morning, so I left most of my gear packed up. I signed in and was directed to the gym to wait for further instructions.

When I walked in to the gym, I was one of two people in there. Figuring that it couldn't hurt to be a little proactive, I secured a couple of folding chairs next to an electricity outlet on the wall between the two bathrooms.

Word came down that someone had brought a couple dozen donated cots that needed to be unloaded, so I went to help unload and acquired cots for Laura, Terry, a guy named Kiyoshi and Tammy, as well as for Frances and myself. I hadn't heard much from the other medics I had gathered information on in Cannon Ball, but figured if they were here, they'd find cots too.

Shortly, the gym began to fill. I sectioned off an area for medical after obtaining permission from the folks out front, and set up all of the medic cots that I had grabbed to save our space. It worked out pretty well, as Terry and Laura arrived not long after Tammy and Kiyoshi. So our group would at least be together.

Thankfully, oh so thankfully, the gal doing the registering came in to tell us that VSSR had secured this space for the next eight days to be used as a barracks for veterans. It was then that we REALLY settled in! Sleeping bags unrolled, gear brought in from vehicles. This was to be our staging area. I actually got to take a shower, which was good, because I was starting to smell rather goatish.

And so it continued. People trickled in by the ones and twos and dozens, the gym started filling with cots and mats and such. Rumors kept flying around. They were sending us home. They were sending us to the front. There was a blizzard coming. There was nothing but sunshine and warm weather ahead. The leaders would be here to talk to us soon. There was a meeting every hour somewhere in the building that kept getting pushed back or cancelled.

Through it all, a few rumors persisted. There was going to be a ceremony at 0800 Monday morning at the Casino Pavilion. That one turned out to get confirmed. Others that got confirmed... There was a blizzard on the way. We were not going to confront the police. We were there to stand in peace and prayer.

For the most part, I think people were happy that the permit had been denied. I think that night we were all looking forward to standing down, getting some rest, being part of a ceremony in the morning and going from there. I set an alarm for 7am, figuring I'd get up, get dressed, and head for the casino. Honestly, I don't remember much of anything else that night, because I was beyond tired, in a safe space, warm, fed and in bed. All of my new friends seemed to be settled in, and I happily fell asleep to try and recover a bit for the festivities coming the next day.

People trickled in all through the night, so I awoke probably a dozen times. Was awakened once for someone wanting some Tylenol. But all told, slept better than I had the night before!

This was the calmest day I had, and the night where I got the most sleep.

More Later

Saturday, December 3rd

So, I deployed with the veterans to North Dakota. It was with a group called "Veterans Stand for Standing Rock" which will henceforth be known as VSSR. In the three weeks leading up to this deployment, the group went from 50 to 500 to 2000. As it would turn out, around 4000 people actually showed up.

This many people in this short a time made logistics a nightmare. The nightmare was only compounded by a blizzard that hit at about the same time as the veterans from all across the country.

To be fair, a great many really good things took place over the course of the week. I will only speak of my personal experience, my personal thoughts and opinions about this mission. As such, this writing should not be taken as representative of every vets experience out there. I'm certain that some had better experiences than me, and some had much more miserable experiences than me.

This is my story.

It started a few weeks prior to December 3rd, when I woke up feeling a deep pull inside of me that I really should go back to Standing Rock. VSSR had put out a call for vets and medics. I've been both in previous lives. A Marine from 1990-1999 and a medic from 2002-2012. I had been following the happenings at Standing Rock since before my first visit in August. I had made friends out there and followed along as they went on marches and struggled with supplies, the "authorities" and sometimes each other.

So I talked with my wife about my urge to go back yet again. We talked about time and financial commitment. Timing turned out to work pretty well. Karen had days off on the days of the deployment, and other commitments were not time sensitive. But the financial aspect was tough.

While VSSR dangled the prospect of being reimbursed out as a carrot, neither of us wanted to rely on that. So we dipped into our savings again this time not for donations to the camp, but to outfit me for an extreme cold weather excursion. Our summer sleeping bags and tents just wouldn't do. Nor would my ten year old "winter" boots that had cracks in them and let my feet get wet when I shoveled our driveway. I can tolerate cold, wet feet for a little while, but this mission could mean standing out in the snow for hours. So I needed gear. Good gear. Boots, -20 degree sleeping bag, wool hunting socks, hats, gloves, mittens, the whole nine. I even bought a new coat.

"But John, Don't you live in Minnesota? Shouldn't you HAVE a lot of this cold weather gear, including a COAT!"

Why, yes... Yes I do live in Minnesota. Yes I do have lots of cold weather gear. But for this mission, anything I wore to the front line needed to be gear I was willing to get hosed, shot, or gassed. The gear needed to be expendable, and I really like my nice, warm Columbia winter coat. While it would be perfect for non-confrontational jobs, I didn't want to get it destroyed on the front lines. I also wanted to have backup gear in case one set got destroyed so I wouldn't be coatless or gloveless or hatless. So, yeah. Redundancy was key in preparing for the mission. I went with four coats, four hats, five pair of gloves, multiple neck coverings, etc. etc.

On top of the cold weather gear, there was the additional expenses of things I never thought I'd be buying. Gas masks and body armor. Knee pads and a top of the line nut cup that could take the hardest hockey slap shot. There are parts of my body that I am just not wanting to get hit by those 40mm "less than lethal" rounds. I wanted PROTECTION. I could have bought a $10 Russian surplus gas mask at the local military surplus store, but if I was going as a medic, I really wanted something reliable that I could actually SEE out of. No sense in going just to become a casualty myself. I was about to drop over $200 on a mask, but someone on some thread had mentioned that he got his for much less on E-Bay. I lucked out and got a better mask than I had originally intended for just under $100.

Then came medical supplies. It turns out that when you haven't been a paramedic for a few years, you tend to get rid of all of those "medic" type things you always took for granted. So I once again hit the wide world of internet shops, and bought enough trauma supplies to outfit not only my old Zumbrota medic bag, but a military medic bag that I bought to take to the front lines. (Expendable)

I promised my wife that I would stay as close to a $200 budget as I could and still get only NEEDED supplies. I was only off by about $800.

The good news is that I have very supportive friends that donated another couple hundred dollars worth of medical supplies and almost $300 cash to help offset my expenditures.

With everything packed and ready to go, I decided to leave early on Saturday morning. VSSR had announced that we would all be rallying in Eagle Butte, South Dakota, AND that we would be welcome to attend a meeting in Standing Rock Saturday evening to hear from the elders and leaders from Standing Rock. The two locations were about two hours apart, so I decided to head to Standing Rock for the meeting, and then go to Eagle Butte after.

The drive out was pretty uneventful. Ten hours of driving in clear weather, keeping myself entertained with NPR or singing along with CD's or just singing. I mentally went through all of my gear a dozen more times. You know. The usual.

When I got to Standing Rock, I looked at the VSSR Facebook page to see where the meeting was to take place. Apparently I was looking for the Science and Technology building on the Sitting Bull College Campus.

Well, I drove around the campus a few times, and could not find a Science and Technology building. I pulled over on a campus road to check the interweb and see if I could find it on a map, but was having no luck. It was then that a car with Canadian plates pulled up next to me and asked if I knew where the meeting was. After some discussion, he said that he was going to check out a building a few blocks away that had people standing out in front of it. I decided to just follow him.

Turns out, that building WAS where the meeting would be. The sign on the building said "Trade Building". Upon entering, I found a little office space attached to a sizable garage. This was a trade school building, and there were various work stations around the perimeter for saws, building supplies and what looked like a cutaway partial house showing the various layers of construction.

I had arrived just as two native women were calling for everyone to form up. I was there an hour and a half before the meeting was scheduled to begin, but form up we did...sort of.

This was a group of about a hundred veterans of all ages. So the formation was pretty loose, lots of gaps, and made up of five or six squads instead of the usual four. The women introduced themselves. They were the two chosen to take command from Wes Clark jr. and Michael Wood, the original organizers of the VSSR movement. I thought it was great that the white guys had chosen to step aside and let native veterans lead this mission. Not only was the whole pipeline protest native led, but these two would have a much better understanding of the culture as well.

They thanked us for coming, and spoke of a change in mission. Originally, the plan was for the veterans to come and stand between the water protectors and the "authorities". The mission briefing stated that if we saw an opportunity to move forward and take the drill pad, we would exploit that and push the "authorities" and DAPL away from the camp.

But after speaking with the elders and leaders, the mission was changing into one of peace and prayer. We were told that our job would be to support the water protectors around camp. Do what we could to help winterize, and protect the camp in case of a DAPL/MCSD raid on the camp. We were ordered to take no direct action, and if we didn't think we could follow those orders, we were free to go home.

Then we took a break while we waited for the elders and leaders to arrive. I heard lots of grumbling about the change in mission. Heard lots of vets saying that's not what they came for. But I kept quiet, listening, observing.

Pretty soon the elders and leaders arrived, and we formed up again (sorta). We heard from Chairman Dave Archambault, the leader of the Standing Rock tribe, who told us the same thing as we had heard before. We heard inspirational stories from Leonard Crow Dog, a Lakota elder. Congresswoman Tulsi Gabbard spoke for a bit and thanked us for coming.

It was a long meeting, and we had been standing for the entirety of it. After a long driving day, I was ready to hear more about where we'd be sleeping and what the plan of the day for tomorrow would be. At one point, I saw actress Shailene Woodly walk in and out.

Weird, I thought. But nice that she's here to raise awareness. If only more people in the limelight would do that, maybe we'd be less focused on the trivial.

It was as I was thinking what a strange experience this was that a guy in a puffy winter coat walked in. He looked shockingly familiar, and I eyed him as he walked past, pulling his green and black trucker hat over his eyes to avoid making a scene.

Had I served with him? I had a feeling of being pals, and of dread at the same time. Suddenly it hit me...

It was Duke, from the TV show 'Haven'. Now, for those of you that don't know the show, it's about a town where 'troubles' affect people giving them strange powers, bad things happen, yada yada. Duke, throughout the series is a good bad guy, or sometimes a bad good guy, or sometimes just a good guy, or sometimes just a bad guy, which explained the feeling of dread when he walked in. He's also the most 'real' character on the show, to me anyway. You know how sometimes when you watch a series that goes for several years, you sometimes think to yourself that if you were in that world, you'd probably hang with so and so a character... Yeah, Duke is one of those characters for me.

So, it went from a strange experience, to being rather surreal. I was tired, hungry, amped up for a combat mission only to be told it would be a peacekeeping mission - if that, and in walks my old pal Duke... or a guy named Eric Balfour that I have never met.

The meeting ended in a Lakota prayer, and people started drifting in and out, talking, planning, etc.

I decided to go over and just verify that it was, in fact, Eric Balfour, or if it was just someone who looked an awful lot like him. So I walked closer to him and said "Hey, Eric!"

He turned to me and said "Yes sir?"

And that started a pretty good conversation. I told him I was a fan of Haven, and his character in particular. How watching the show had been an 'escape' for me when my PTSD got triggered, and how shows like his helped keep me from spiraling further down when those things hit me. We talked about our families and what had brought us both to Standing Rock. Which led to more talk about 'Haven', and how in real life, lots of people have "powers" or talents that they don't know they have until they are tested, and that we both expected that many people out here were finally waking up to what is going on in the world and that things need to be done about it. 

It was a fun conversation. I was just tired enough not to be all flighty and fan-ish, and just talk like a normal (if tired) human being. At one point another gal came up to him, interrupted our conversation and said "You look really familiar" through squinted eyes and a confused face that said 'I should know you, but how?'

He looked back at her with the same expression and after a moment said "Yeah... I think we went to high school together!?!"

Which left her even more confused, and she walked away without ever knowing how she knew him. It was pretty funny, but the more I thought about it later, I was impressed that he didn't brag or announce his presence. Even when he came in, he walked around the back and stayed in the shadows, kept his hat low...discreet. He gets it. How to be humble. And in his humility, he demonstrates his stature.

As we talked, we found ourselves in close proximity to Tulsi Gabbard. Now, not only is she a Congresswoman, but she's very pretty and outranks me by just a whole lot. So I was a little nervous to just go introduce myself. Apparently this showed, because Eric (yeah, I call him Eric now) piped up and said "You should go say hello!"

"Oh, I will." I said. "I don't want to interrupt the others talking with her."

"C'mon" he replied, "I'll introduce you."

"No. Really." I said. "I will!"

So we continued with our conversation. He introduced me to the group he had come out with, filmmakers and producers and others whose names I promptly forgot.

They were going to head out to find some real food, as they had been there for a few days and had been living on protein bars. So we said our goodbyes, see you at camp, etc. As they were leaving, I turned quick and asked if I could get a picture with him, as the day had been surreal and I wanted proof that I had actually met him! He was very gracious and agreed.

After that, I headed over to loiter around Ms. Gabbard until I found an opening to introduce myself. We had a MUCH shorter chat. I told her that if she ran for POTUS in 2020, she'd have my vote. Asked her about her thoughts on the change of mission, and got a quick picture with her as well. I would love to be important enough to sit down with these folks and have an in depth talk about the issues sometime. She had good insights that I would have liked to hear more about.

Anyway, as the night grew later, the organizers spread the word that about 50 of us could sleep in this building tonight. It seemed like a good idea to me, as driving another two hours down to Eagle Butte while I was tired didn't seem like my best option. So I signed up to stay with about 20-25 others, and soon things were quieting down as we settled in.

I ran into Eric and crew one more time as I was loading my gear into the building. He asked if I was staying there tonight, to which I said yes, and asked if I had everything I needed. For a brief moment, I considered asking if I could join them for dinner since I knew no one at the building and only had jerky to dine on that night. But I didn't want to intrude, and I knew that he'd say yes because he's a genuine good guy (because that's the impression I got of him in our twenty minute conversation), and that it would be a late night of talking. And while it would have been REALLY COOL, it was not why I had come out there. I knew tomorrow had the potential to be another long day, and I wanted to get all the sleep I could before heading into unknown territory. So I told him I was good to go, and it had been really fun meeting him and talking to him. He said the honor was his, and his group departed.

I got to know a few of the others staying in the building. There were a couple of medics, but mostly just tired vets ready to sleep. Someone had brought a couple boxes of MRE's, and after I was satisfied that everyone had food that wanted it, I grabbed a ravioli MRE and ate it cold before turning in for the night.  It was nearing midnight when I finally drifted off to sleep. I was thinking that I'd get a good five or six hours of sleep, and that would have to be enough for the following day's festivities.

Turns out... I was wrong... about many things.

More Later

Why I Went

“I prefer someone who burns the flag and then wraps themselves up in the Constitution over someone who burns the Constitution and then wraps themselves up in the flag.” ― Molly Ivins

Greetings Readers,

I am on my way to Standing Rock, North Dakota. I wrote this in the days leading up to the "deployment" by a couple thousand veterans to the area to help protect the water and help protect the water protectors. I wanted to share my thoughts about why I went.

First. It wasn't an easy decision. I had heard about the event a few weeks before deciding to sign up, but thought that perhaps it wasn't for me. I had already been to the area a couple of times. 

The first time I went was in August with my Dad. We had been talking about the events out there at breakfast as I was visiting one weekend. He wanted to go and help. I said I kinda wanted to do the same. By lunch we were on the road to North Dakota from Cedar Rapids, Iowa, because that's how our family rolls. Adventure? Let's go! Pre-planning? Not a requirement for adventure! We got out there and Dad bought about a thousand dollars worth of gear that the Red Warrior Camp had on their "wish list". We drove it back from the Bismarck/Mandan area on an alternate route, as the local Morton County Sheriff had set up a military grade roadblock about twenty miles north of the protest site. We had passed through the blockade as we went north, and the officers there told us that if we were bringing supplies back to camp, we'd have to reroute an extra twenty miles out of the way, ostensibly for the protection of the water protectors. Apparently drivers in the area didn't know how to slow down when they saw something in the road, like say, a protestor. Anyway, our first visit out there surprised us, because we had never seen such blatant disregard for rights as we saw from Morton County that day. What we weren't surprised by was the openness and generosity we were greeted with at the camp. Contrary to what the "authorities" we're saying, I felt safe and welcomed as I walked around the camp. I talked with many people, even interviewed some with my IPad, and was never once given a stern look or a harsh word. In fact, the only thing I was given was fry bread to take back and share with Dad.

We witnessed the formation of the Oceti Sakowin camp. It was the first time the seven tribes of the Lakota/Dakota/Nakota people's had gathered since the Battle of the Greasy Grass, known to US history as the Battle of Little Bighorn. We listened to speakers tell about that history, and this history that was being made. We heard time and time again that everyone gathered was there to participate in peaceful, non-violent direct action. Several days before our arrival, water protectors had fastened themselves to construction machines to slow the progress of the pipeline. To be honest, we were pretty much tourists that time. The camp only numbered a few hundred. There were wide open spaces between campsites, and we weren't entirely sure what to do to help, so we just tried to keep out of the way.  It was a remarkable experience though, and we made some friends and had a good time. When we left, all of the supplies that we had donated had been passed out to the people staying, and we wished we could do more. A couple of days after we left, the protectors were attacked by DAPL security guards using poorly trained attack dogs.

Dad was going to come on the second trip in October, but he was under the weather, and didn't think it a good idea to go spread a cold around the camp. So I went alone, armed with a van full of donations from many people, and a contact at the camp now called Oceti Sakowin. Red Warrior camp is still there, and is comprised of tribes other than the Lakota/Dakota/Nakota. This proved to be a VERY different experience. It was still wonderful, but the camp had grown to over a thousand people. It was more organized than before, with different tents set up for communications and non-violent direct action (NVDA) training. There were more kitchens set up to feed whoever was in their area. Security was tighter and more organized as well. I was meeting up with the Oglala band of Lakota's, as I have gotten to know more and more Oglala's in my trips to Pine Ridge. After unloading the supplies I had brought, I talked with my new friends about what needs were topping the list as winter was approaching. The camp had received a shipment of logs, but there was a lack of chainsaws to make it into firewood. Dad stepped up again when I told him about it, and soon I was on my way to Bismarck with another guy to get a load of wood from the city landfill, and buy a chainsaw for the Oglala camp.

On that trip, I also dug post holes for the expansion of the Oglala Kitchen, which was serving more and more camp members as the days went by. I was much less tourist, and much more support worker. It was cold, but not uncomfortably so, and the times we weren't working were spent talking and laughing. My friend Joe scored a hotel room on my last night there, and since he knew I had been sleeping in the van, he offered the tipi he was staying in for lodging for me that night. I readily accepted, and spent my first night ever in a tipi. I'll admit, I was pretty geeked about it. Even though it's essentially a tent surrounding a campfire, it was still a unique experience for me. All of the romanticized stories from childhood about the plains Indians came back to me, and I sent a quick prayer to the 12 year of me that had always dreamed of doing this.

Songs were sung in native languages accompanied by handheld drums. Although I couldn't understand most of the words, the meanings were still pretty clear. Prayer songs. Thanks giving songs. Songs about history, and songs of the history being made. I fell asleep to a rising moon and shouts of "Water is Life!" And "Mni Wiconi!" Echoing across the camp. Shortly after I left that time, the "authorities" moved two big military trucks up to block the road to the protest site. There was another clash, the vehicles were burned. Many arrested and hurt by the police. 

When I got back from the second trip, I figured my time out there was done. I had been there to sight-see and experience and learn for myself. Then I had been there to work and support. Our budget was shot. My wife, Saint that she is, was still on board with me fundraising from home to get hotel rooms for those in need as winter set in. But I think we both figured that I'd stay home now. It's a native led movement, and my money would be better spent supporting from home. After the disastrous embarassment that was our Presidential Election, I was certain that Standing Rock was not a place I'd go again for a long time. It took a few days for me to get over the disgust I felt at having a man like that as the leader of my country. Too much of what he stands for goes against everything I believe is good about the USA. I have serious misgivings about the direction the country will take, but I'll save those for another post. Suffice to say, my hope for this country sagged to the lowest it has ever been in my life. 

I had heard rumors about veterans gathering at Standing Rock, but had no thoughts about joining it, as I had already been there. I went to a march in Winona MN. It was well organized. We marched with our signs. We chanted the slogans of the #noDAPL movement. We were mostly well received, only being flipped the bird a few times. That day there were similar marches held in over three hundred other cities and towns across the country to show our solidarity with Standing Rock.
  
As I drove home that night I thought to myself, that's it. That's all I can do for Standing Rock right now. It's time to focus on what to do about the next four years.

Then one night, some of the water protectors crossed a bridge where the burned vehicles were to clear the road. They had moved one of the trucks when they were met with police in riot gear and attacked. Since my second visit, DAPL had constructed a drill pad to drill under the river, and surrounded it with huge hesco barriers and razor wire. It looked like a little fort sitting out by the river. After the burned truck incident, the "authorities" moved the second truck and set up a concrete barricade across the road and ditches, and covered it with razor wire as well. This was done just past a river crossing called Backwater Bridge, so now, upon crossing said bridge, one is met with a concrete road barrier corral topped with military razor wire. Well, the next night the protectors went up to the barricade to pray. This time they were attacked by water hoses in sub freezing temperatures, 40mm rubber bullets, tear gas, and flash bangs. Many, many people were injured, and one woman had her arm nearly blown off by a tear gas grenade that had been modified to explode rather than just release the gas contained within. I was sickened while I watched it happening live. I felt helpless and angry. I couldn't believe anyone would have authorized using fire hoses on people in freezing conditions.

To my utter astonishment and disbelief, I watched as the "authorities" held press conferences to justify their actions that night. I listened to how they felt threatened by the "protestors" as they chanted and pounded drums, or verbally assaulted the officers on the other side of the barricade. Apparently someone also threw a rock. So they felt justified hosing people down and shooting them with rubber bullets. Gassing them, and even laughing and praising each other on making "good shots" with their 40mm guns.

Since the election, there has been an undeniable upsurge in what can only be described as hate crimes against non-white, non-Christian citizens in this country. I am not the first to point out the similarities between pre-WWII Germany and where our country is right now. I keep hearing people say "But he doesn't want to kill millions of Jews or anything! Just give him a chance!" Well, I gave him a chance. He is building his administration to include neo-nazi's and climate change deniers. Public education opponents in charge of the Education department. Oppressive, violent cops in charge of Homeland Security. It's a very dangerous threat that people are not taking seriously.

And then I thought about history.

Our country was built on the genocide of the native population. The whitewashed version of history that we grew up learning includes valiant Cowboys and soldiers taming the frontier and destroying the savage Indians. In reality, WE were the invaders. THEY were defending their homes, their cultures, their way of life. We justified it by saying that since they weren't Christians, it was ok to kill them and move them. The tribes farther east are all but extinct today. Languages and cultures gone forever. 

Then I thought about history again. 

The 12 year old in me that read about the plains wars. Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull. Red Cloud, Gall, and Custer. I grew up learning in school that what the Indians did was bad, because all we wanted was to expand the country and live in peace.  There was never a native voice in opposition to that narrative.

We weren't told the stories of how scheming white men went and met with the leaders of the tribes in Fort Laramie and agreed to let the Sioux have a "Great Sioux Nation" of their own, as long as we could bypass it safely to get to the gold fields of California.

There was never a chapter about how Red Cloud actually defeated the US and closed several forts along the Bozeman trail. Or how he forced another treaty of Fort Laramie in 1868 outlining where white people could and could not be pertaining to their nation.

We were told that the Constitution of the United States was this amazing document, spelling out the course our country would take and enshrining our highest laws and ideals, but we never went too in depth into it.

If we had, perhaps there would be more people familiar with Article Six, Clause Two, which states that  "This Constitution, and the laws of the United States which shall be made in pursuance thereof; and all treaties made, or which shall be made, under the authority of the United States, shall be the supreme law of the land; and the judges in every state shall be bound thereby, anything in the Constitution or laws of any State to the contrary notwithstanding. " 

All treaties made...shall be the supreme law of the land. That judges would be bound by the Constitution to obey those treaties, regardless of other laws that states may put in place.

If we had studied the treaties a bit more closely, perhaps we would have seen that the land that DAPL has been burying pipeline in actually belongs to the Great Sioux Nation according to the Ft. Laramie Treaty of 1851.

If we had been a bit more honest about our own history, perhaps we would have pointed out that the Great Sioux Nation was whittled down by deceit, trickery, theft, and the mindset that "White and Might make Right". So much so as to lead to the reservation boundaries of today. Boundaries that have been in place so long that our short term collective memory conveniently forgets that we completely broke the treaties we signed with the Sioux a hundred and fifty or sixty years back. It is the very same people claiming to want a Constitutionally based government that are looking the other way and whistling happy tunes when the treaties are brought up.  

"Well...it's been that way for so long, what could we possibly do about it now?"
"We HAD to take control of those lands because, FLOOD CONTROL!"
"Nobody seemed to mind at the time."

I awoke one morning the day before Thanksgiving with a sick feeling in my stomach. I had seen the call for Veterans for Standing Rock on my Facebook feed. At the time, there were about five hundred signed up. I took an oath when I joined the Marines. I swore to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, from all enemies, foreign and domestic. I swore an oath, that so help me God, I would do what it took to defend that document and the people it serves. At the time I joined, that meant going to fight Iraqi's overseas. Even though the war ended before I was dropped to my unit, I still stood by that oath. I was ready to go wherever they sent me. To fight and kill and maybe die for the Constitution and the people it serves. And on this morning I realized, the threat to the Constitution is happening right now. In North Dakota. In the policies and actions of the incoming administration. In the eyes of his supporters that are claiming America for whites and Christians and straight people and men. 

This is the threat to our Constitution. Threats made to the 1st Amendment. The 5th Amendment. The 8th Amendment. The threat of overlooking articles for convenience. The threat that the "authorities" can pick and choose which parts best serve them, and which ones they can ignore. 

In North Dakota, right now, the "authorities" have declared a "State of Emergency" so that they can deny freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, freedom of movement on public lands. The Corps of Engineers has assumed jurisdiction over lands that BY TREATY belong to the Sioux. The state government has made declarations to make sure they won't be accountable for accidents, injuries or deaths on those lands, and that make it "legal" for them to deny services such as police, fire and EMS to the people there.

And I think of history again. When the tribes were scattered all across the plains in the midst of a hard winter. When they were given notice by the US Government that all Indians had to go to the reservations or be considered hostile. They were given a date to report to the reservations that guaranteed they wouldn't make it in time. Some of the tribes didn't even get the message delivered until after the date had passed. So they were hunted, killed and herded like animals, because the "authorities" gave themselves permission to do so.

Apparently our current leaders didn't learn from history, because we are repeating it. The "authorities" are doing whatever they can to give themselves permission to ensure the completion of the pipeline. There have been lawsuits. There have been clashes. There have been locals pissed off about "outside agitators" saying that they should go away and leave North Dakota business to North Dakotans. You know what? When a group wants to exclude outsiders from getting involved, it's usually because there's a reason for outsiders to get involved. They don't want outsiders to see them forcing another treaty violation on the Standing Rock tribe. They don't want the hassle of acknowledging the long tradition of taking whatever they want from the Indians while flying under the radar of public opinion. 

But what it comes down to is actually quite clear. Our Constitution says that the treaties we make with other nations are the supreme law of the land. The Treaty of 1851 says that DAPL is building on land belonging to the Great Sioux Nation. 

I think of history again. 

If I had been alive and in a position to do something about the massacre at Sand Creek, would I have done anything? If I had been at Wounded Knee, what would I have done? If I had been able to see what the unscrupulous politicians were doing when they broke treaties for convenience, would I have spoken up?

Part of the trick about thinking about history is putting yourself in their shoes. Wondering how and what could have been done to create a different outcome. We learn lessons from history.

If you're the captain of a passenger liner ship and someone says there are icebergs ahead, perhaps it would be in everyones best interests if you slowed the ship down.

If you create safer working environments, fewer employees will be killed in accidents.

If a state governor, a local sheriff, and an Army officer are doing everything in their power to silence an already marginalized people, and deprive them of basic human needs in order to force their capitulation, then you stand against that.

This thing has been played out in books and movies for generations. Greedy governor invested in oil pushes natives off their land for profit. Small town Sheriff with YUGE ego and power tripping sets his deputies off to harass and abuse the locals standing up for what's right. Army breaking treaty and imposing its will on Indians because it has might on its side.  Rebels vs. the Empire. Na'vi against corporate greed. Just about every episode of 'The A-Team'. 

Only this is happening IN REAL LIFE!!! 

I woke up that morning and the Marine in me woke at the same time. The one that took the oath. The one that believes in the potential for good this country has. The one who acknowledges the historically crappy things we've done, and wants to rectify those mistakes and move forward into a better future for ALL Americans. The Marine in me woke up and said, "This is history happening. This is all of those historical atrocities you've read about and been angry about. This is an event happening RIGHT NOW that people not yet born will look back on and say 'If I were there, I would have ...'. This is a domestic threat to YOUR Constitution. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?"
  
And I felt sick. Because I knew that I had to go with the veterans to Standing Rock. I am well aware that I am past my prime physically as a Marine. I'm also signed up to be a medic, and it's been awhile since I've run a call. I don't want to spend long hours in bitterly cold weather. I certainly don't want to do that under threat of getting hosed down, or tear gassed, or shot by anything. I don't want to work another traumatic injury and deal wth the blood and smells and sights.  

I want to stay in my comfy chair in my warm house. I want to make some of Karen's hot chocolate with the clean water we have on tap. I want to keep posting and writing about how I Stand with Standing Rock, and how and why others should as well. I want to kiss my kids each morning before school and tuck them in at night. I want to cuddle with my beautiful wife in our snug, cozy, king sized bed. All of these things are why I got out of the Marine Corps in the first place. I loved my time in, but it was time to move on and let others answer the call.

But there's nobody to call in this case. 911 gets you to the Morton County Sheriff, who has already determined that you aren't worth helping if you're going to interfere with his pipeline. Going up the chain of command gets you a governor in bed with the oil company, Senators more concerned about keeping their seat than doing what's right. A current president who wants to "let things play out", and an incoming president who is invested in the very things destroying the planet. 

As I write this, a few days before deploying in my own country, I am feeling a bit hopeless. Even if a couple thousand vets shut down construction for awhile, there's every reason to believe the pipeline will eventually get finished. Chances of winning this battle are slim. 

But the war is just. The fight for a better future for my kids and my grandkids is imperative. I don't want to go. I would have rather spent the money I just used buying a gas mask and body armor and trauma supplies and extreme cold weather gear on a trip to Disney World,or a new drone, or a TV to replace the one that broke last month. I'd rather my wife not have to worry about our budget, or the possibility of me being arrested, injured or killed. I'd rather see all of my Standing Rock friends on a beach in Hawaii where we could just chill and relax. I don't WANT to go.

But I MUST go. I swore an oath that did not expire when my contract was up. I trained both as a Marine and as a medic so that I could SERVE those in need. To stand up for those that couldn't. To stand against all enemies, foreign and domestic.

Well. The "authorities" only have authority given by We the People. It is my duty as a citizen, as a medic, and as a Marine to stand up against that "authority" when it chooses corporate interests over the interests of the citizens. I do not accept or acknowledge their authority to put themselves above the law and deny rights to the people of this country. It is my duty to do what I can, how I can, to the best of my ability, to put a stop to abuse of power. It is the duty of every American to want to make right what is wrong. Even when those wrongs are uncomfortable and hard to face. Otherwise this country will not stand. It won't be worth fighting for. 

We cannot continue to proclaim ourselves a Land of the Free if we take the freedoms of some.

We cannot continue to call ourselves the Home of the Brave if we can't find the courage to stand up for what is right.

We cannot continue to believe in a land with liberty and justice for all when our leaders give themselves permission to take liberty and deny freedom to the citizens.

We cannot pick and choose what parts of our founding documents we want to adhere to and still claim any moral or ethical values.

So...yeah. I'm going to Standing Rock with the other vets. Because we took an oath to protect something bigger than ourselves. Bigger than the flag. Bigger than the political parties. Bigger than any one citizen, from the President on down.

I am putting my money and my body where my mouth is. I am, as I was when I was a young, tough Marine, praying for peace, but prepared for war. 

I'm going because it is the right thing to do, even though it is the hard thing to do.

If not me...who?
If not now...when?

Black Heroin

Did you drive your car there? Hypocrite! Idiot!

     I see it and hear it again and again when people talk about the protests going on right now in North Dakota. How can the people there be so anti-oil when they drive gas guzzling cars and trucks?

     There are a ton of resources out there about the pipeline being built from North Dakota to Illinois, so I won't rehash here the history or the ongoing protests surrounding it.  Google  Dakota Access Pipeline if you want to read up.

     This post is to address some of the arguments against the protest and the water protectors fighting big oil.  The opening question seems to be justification for many to dismiss this as just another bunch of hypocrites not understanding our apparent need for more pipelines. But I believe it goes deeper than what they are able to see.

     Oil and Coal are America's heroin. We are addicted to it. Our cars run on it, our power plants run on it. We use oil in almost everything, because for a long time it has been available, easy, and cheap. Like heroin, we addicts know where to get it, but we don't know how to live without it. Like heroin, our continued abuse of it will eventually kill us. Unlike heroin, there is very little help available to help us quit.

     The oil companies argue that there are no good alternatives to oil. That switching to renewables would cost jobs and ruin our economy. They argue that pipelines are the safest way to transport oil, far safer than by truck or by train. Therefore, more pipelines are needed to keep the price of oil down for us users.  Let's take these one at a time.

No Viable Alternatives

     Elon Musk put out a video when he introduced the Tesla Power Wall that included a graphic showing how rapidly CO2 levels are rising.



     Now, I'm going out on a limb here and saying that most people reading this believe in science and climate change. As such, facts are not in dispute that this current warming trend is man-made, and we are crossing new and awful thresholds all the time heading towards some really bad things.  If you are someone that believes this is a "natural cycle", or a Chinese conspiracy, or thinks that God will solve it, then you'll need to come back when reality sets in, because this post is not for you.

     Musk shows how little area is needed to convert ALL of the US electrical needs to solar. But mostly as an aside to promote his Power Wall. It's a shockingly small area, and I'd bet that spreading it out across the country, we could easily fit it on the tops of flat buildings like Wal-Marts and shopping malls.

What struck me about this is that we have so many good places to put solar panels, yet we don't. Why?

Money and Short Term Vision.

     My family recently had a solar panel company do an assessment of our house to determine what it would take to replace our electricity needs with solar. Turns out that if we use the equity we've built up in our home for the last ten years we've lived there, we could pay for a nice solar array that would produce enough for our house, and maybe even more that would be fed back into the grid.

     But it is "expensive" when looked at as a stand alone cost. A 10kWh system can run between $30,000 - $50,000. That's a ton of money to most people. That's an unrealistic goal for us, to come up with that amount for a solar array. But then I shifted my thinking a little bit.

     We already budget money for our electricity bill. That isn't going to change throughout our lives. We'll always use electricity. But if we had a solar array that provides all of our electrical needs, then the money we have budgeted for electricity could just as easily go toward paying off the solar array. The math for us worked out to having our array paid for within ten years. After that, we would actually get paid for producing electricity.

Paid. For. It.

     Unfortunately for us, the best place for an array would be in our front yard garden, and the city has an ordinance against building structures in your front yard. Our rooftop will work, but will only supply 60% of our current usage.  But like my son says, "It's better than 0%."

     Our community has wind, solar, geothermal, and hydroelectric power, yet 78% of our electricity still comes from coal fired and diesel fuel powered plants. We pay for the coal and diesel shipped to our factories to burn. A cost that would be eliminated transitioning to solar. Within ten years, our entire community could be solar powered, and have extremely low electricity costs as well.  Not only can we do better environmentally, but we can do better financially by switching to solar.

     The technology exists for electric automobiles. "But the range is too short!" Comes the opposition. But the technology also exists for solar roadways that could continuously recharge electric vehicles as the drove. That technology would also add power into the grid, reducing or removing our dependence on fossil fuel powered vehicles. The thing holding us back?

     Money and Short Term Vision again. It would take years, decades perhaps to switch our current vehicle fleet to EV's, our asphalt roads to solar, our electricity grids to benefit from solar panels and roadways. It would be hard work, and too many politicians these days are scared of change because of the short term vision of their constituents. Suggesting short term pain for long term results doesn't resonate with the majority yet. Until it does, change will be slow and hard. But let's move on to the next argument from oil...

Switching to renewables would cost jobs and ruin the economy.

     We currently have a fossil fuel based economy. Stoping all production and usage tomorrow would indeed cost jobs and throw a HUGE wrench into the economy. But that's not what we are talking about here, is it? What if, as we phased out oil jobs in the future, we increased jobs in solar panel production and installation? What if, instead of needing workers to lay oil pipelines and drill fracking wells, we needed workers to transition communities from oil reliance to solar power and install and maintain solar roads? Maintenance workers, power plant workers, linemen and women. All still required in a renewable based economy. We would lose jobs in oil production, sure. But we'd not lose ALL oil jobs because - let's face it - we'll never go to ZERO oil usage. But we would gain jobs in other areas. The job market changes with technology. It always has, and always will. Transition can be hard, but we've done it before.

     As for the economy, I suspect a transition period would be much the same as when we transitioned from actual horse powered vehicles to fossil fuel vehicles. Our reliance on foreign oil would disappear, leaving us less beholden to the Middle East, Venesuela, and other sketchy oil producing countries for our needs here in the US. We would keep domestic production low so we always have a ready supply of oil for uses other than electricity and running our ground vehicles. Average citizens would pay significantly less in electricity bills, thereby increasing their discretionary spending budgets and growing the economy. It's not like we've always been a fossil fuel based economy. We had the courage to change many times in our countries history. Now is another one of those times.

Pipelines are the safest way to transport oil, safer than trucks or trains.

     In this, the oil companies are right! Statistically speaking, it is safer transporting oil through a pipeline than by truck or train overland. But here's where their own arguments come back to shoot them in the foot.

     Pipelines create jobs when being built. After that, it takes far, far fewer employees to get the oil from point A to point B. This takes jobs from truck drivers and all of their support crews. Mechanics, dispatchers, yard men, etc. All losing jobs. It also takes jobs from the train industry. Jobs gone means incomes gone equals economic damage. Pipelines are inherently bad for the job market. But do you know who does profit from this "safer" method? Oil companies. Billionaires who want even more money in their pockets.
 
     As for safer... "safer" doesn't mean safe. Oil Pipeline leaks are a daily occurance. From little, hundred gallon leaks, to the "newsworthy" several hundred thousand gallon kind. They happen all the time. They pollute the environment, our drinking water, our crop land. But the oil companies want you to believe they're safer than overland shipping.

     This is like arguing, like junkies do, that using clean needles is safer than sharing needles. That is true, but you're still addicted to the junk. It's more efficient to mainline drugs rather than smoke them or ingest them, too. But that won't stop it from killing you.

We need more pipelines to keep the cost of oil down.

     No. No we don't. Because we can't maintain our addiction to oil and have a livable planet. It really is that simple. Stay addicted and we all die.

All of their arguments are designed to keep the general public blissfully ignorant of the real problem.

That is - our addiction to fossil fuels. 

So, why do we drive our gas burning pollutionmobiles to protests?

     Because that is what we have to work with right now. Poor people can't afford electric cars. Heck, the shrinking middle class can't really afford them yet, either. Their time is coming, but slowly. Slowly. Because the fossil fuel industry is doing everything in it's power to make as much money for themselves as they can before the world wakes up. Until then, we are pretty much forced to drive gas fueled cars, even to protest the very thing that fuels them. Because, like any addict can tell you, getting hooked is easy. The infrastructure is in place to support fossil fuel based cars. It's easy. We can buy fossil fuel cars for cheap. It's easy. We have been addicted to fossil fuels for so long, that we can't see past our oil high to the danger our addiction is leading us towards. They will rely on our collective belief that transitioning to renewables is too expensive, too difficult. They will continue to try and keep renewables expensive and difficult, because to do otherwise would decrease their profits.

     Why would a drug dealer pay for an addict to get treatment? Why would an oil company pay for renewables? Same answer.

     According to science, our addiction will continue to heat up the planet. It will change ecosystems, making it more and more difficult to grow or crops, have clean water to drink, clean air to breathe. Ignorance tells us that status quo is just fine. After all, if it was good enough for our parents and grandparents, it's good enough for us. Right? Except it isn't anymore. Technology has made it possible to clean ourselves up. Slow down our addiction fueled destruction. Technology has also invalidated our pleas of ignorance. The evidence is overwhelming, and easy to find with a simple Google search.

     Like getting clean from any addiction though, it will take time. It will be hard. There will have to be lifestyle changes. Habit changes. We won't want to do it most days, because it won't be what we're accustomed to - easy. There will always be those voices in our communal head telling us we NEED the drug. We can't function without the drug. Life is so much easier with the drug. We will have setbacks along the way. Progress will be slow and challenging.

     But what we really NEED is to start. We NEED to look farther into the future than our oil buzz.  We NEED to start transitioning to something better, rather than keep feeding our addiction. We need to get rid of the enablers that tell us we can have more "sweet, light" black heroin if we just stay quiet and let them abuse us a few more times. Their product is getting more expensive, the quality is going down, and they know it. They know it's a very limited resource and they'll eventually run out, but like any good dealer, they'll keep us hooked to make maximum profits.

     It's time to see past our short term vision. It's time to stop worrying about the cost, because it will cost more in the future to fix the problems we are continuing to cause today. It's time to suck it up and do the hard work. Because if we leave it to our children and grandchildren, then it will be too late.