Happy June everybody! One of my favorite months. The time that salmonberries begin to blossom then ripen. stəgʷad (stuh-gwad) in Lushootseed, samən-ulali (samun-oolali) in Chinuk Wawa. Former Washington State Poet Laureate Rena Priest’s (Lummi) Tour of a Salmonberry is a delicate reminder of salmonberries this season. Below is an excerpt.
Rubus spectabilis, meaning,
red sight worth seeing.Each drupelet holds a seed
and the shimmering secret
kept by rain—of how to rise,
This June, the University of Washington will dedicate Madrona Hall into the Marvin Oliver Hall. This is an incredible honor for our family. What I enjoy the most about the selection of Madrona Hall in particular is that the Hall is nearby wəɬəbʔalxʷ (Intellectual House / Longhouse) and is located on sluʔwiɬ (Little Canoe Channel) Road. sluʔwiɬ formerly known as (Marcus) Whitman Court was changed in Spring 2018. It was changed to reflect the Indigenous history in the area rather than a sinister time when the Whitman’s attempted to Christianize the Cayuse in Oregon. sluʔwiɬ reflects the name of village site near present day University Village which indicated places where canoes could take shortcuts through grassy channels. Stop 4 of the Indigenous Walking Tour covers a lot of the history of sluʔwiɬ. I am happy that Marvin Oliver Hall will be surrounded by other Salish influenced buildings and motifs and I hope it will press UW to continue their commitment to provide avenues for Indigenous people to express themselves and create lasting change.
If you’ve grown up in Washington you’ll definitely be familiar with the Uncle Sam billboard off of I-5 in Chehalis. Its first message went up in the 60s and has continued to broadcast lampoon and blasphemous messages ever since. There has been a lot written about the billboard and even petitions to take down the sign. But as of today, the ownership of the billboard and land has transferred owners. The new owner is the Confederated Tribes of the Chehalis Reservation. I was elated to read in The Seattle Times about this news. The tribe initially didn’t think about the billboard when scoping the multi-acre parcel near their reservation but now, since it seems to be such a big part of Washington State canon, they are exploring some messaging. I love the idea of having such a juxtaposition of messaging going forward. I really do hope the Chehalis Tribe makes some snarky comments about LandBack & Broken Treaties.
If I had a billboard here are some messages I’d put up:
a sovereign billboard has entered the chat
I went to sign a treaty and all I got was this lousy billboard
you thought we’d advertise our casino here
Indian Health Service - underfunded since inception
Speaking of Washington State lore, does anyone remember the Tree Octopus hoax? What important things about Washington do you want to share?
Next I’d like to share something I’ve really been enjoying. This spring, my dear friend Valerie Segrest launched the Old Growth Table Podcast. I am not really a podcast person but this show has been such a highlight for me. Valerie takes the listener through ways that Coast Salish people have cultivated and gathered foods and medicines as a way of relationship building and reciprocity. Then, she adds adds how we can continue to learn from our plant relatives to illuminate health and wellness today. The first episode made me crave foods I rarely think about. If you are interested in learning more about the plants and food systems in Coast Salish lands you definitely need to check out The Old Growth Table. I’ve linked it here.
The Old Growth Table is a heartfelt exploration of the rich cultural heritage and culinary traditions of the Coast Salish people. As a Native Foods Nutritionist and Muckleshoot Tribal member, Valerie will guide you through this journey. The OGT delves deep into ancient food wisdom, traditional cooking methods, and the profound spiritual connection we have with our environment.
For a project I am working on I’ve been watching Seattle news reports from the 70s and 80s. I came across a certain commercial and wrote a quick vignette surrounding what a scene could look like for someone watching it. Maybe there is something more here. Hope you enjoy the weirdness.
When the man returned to the hotel, he couldn’t muster the energy to put away the rest of the beer. He sank into the worn captain’s chair. Scooted to the edge and reached with his middle finger to press the power button. The static whooshed and whined until it caught the lone connection, nightly news. He checked his wristwatch, 5:20pm. He listened to a blonde woman’s reassuring voice reporting that a young boy had been rescued after falling into the Skykomish River earlier in the afternoon. The anchor passed it off to the reporter. The reporter, a White man, fresh out of college, with a long rectangular face like the bottom of a tissue box is holding a microphone to his face and resting an open umbrella tight against his wool suit coat. The reporter relays more details about the incident while standing timidly on the riverbank, “the boy said he saw a salmon in the river and chased after it. The river channel dropped off and the boy became submerged. Thankfully, he was rescued by an onlooker about 300 yards downriver. However, scientists have not reported any salmon in this river since 1975. The boy swears it was a salmon. Back to you, Jeanne.”
“Thanks for that report. Allen, still using an umbrella, reporting from Index.”
The man watching the television murmurs to himself, “pff, what did this guy just blow into town? Leave the umbrella at home.” He takes out a notepad from his pocket and writes down people in Seattle don’t use umbrellas and underlines umbrellas.
The man looked across the room over his bed - it was almost dark. He turned back to the broadcast, dropped his hand over the side of the chair and clawed the top of a Red Hook beer bottle out from the cardboard box. He sank deeper into the chair, balancing his beer on his breastbone between swigs.
He began to doze off and entered the in-between of sleep. He heard the blonde reporter continue to drone on about the current events in Seattle, but he couldn’t manage to close his eyes. He couldn’t be bothered. He felt like he was resting but his eyes were tracking the programs. He saw the news report; it was still raining this week. He saw the sports brief; Curt Warner was carrying the Seahawks season. He watched a couple of ads; the Bon marked down their waterbeds $200 and right now was the perfect time to buy gold according to Fox’s Gems. The news transitioned into more news then into a new episode of Cheers.
Then the man saw a commercial he hadn’t recognized. It was a stout older White sailor staring while donning a captain’s hat. The sailor opened his mouth like he was talking to the man, but the man couldn’t hear anything. The scene switched into a drifting panorama of colorful fishing flies and hooks laid on a table. Then the scene changed again. The sailor, who the man thought was talking to him, was playing a black acoustic guitar and singing. But the man still couldn’t hear. The camera panned down to reveal that the sailor had salmon for hands. Like the sailor fileted the fish and was wearing them like a puppet. As the commercial began to fade, the man saw blurry text on the screen, but his beer bottle blocked his view. When he removed the empty bottle, the commercial changed. He was wide awake by now, thinking what just happened? He dropped his head to the left and checked the time it read 1:58 am. He looked for his notepad and couldn’t find it. He reached into his back pocket and felt for a piece of paper. He uncrumpled a napkin and subsequently took a pen from his coat pocket. He jotted the time, turned off the television, and went to bed.
The next afternoon, the man woke up and racked his focus on the stipple ceiling that looked like static waves. He laid for a while and massaged his eyes until they became fuzzy. The waves on the ceiling reminded him of the commercial last night. He only remembered a sailor trying to get his attention. For a second, he thought it must have been a dream, but he tossed over and used the nightstand to help him out of bed. He noticed the napkin with the time of day 1:58am underlined.
The man thought about the note all day. He bumbled down the street for a dozen blocks until he reached Green Lake. Got an espresso from a cart and after almost a complete circle around the lake rain came down hard. The man was drenched. But he remembered that people in Seattle don’t use umbrellas. He thought about Seattle, the rain, the rivers, salmon, and the commercial. In that moment, being wet, he decided he was going to stay up.
He returned back to the hotel. The lobby doors were adorned by two limp palm trees searching for sun, the blue façade was peeling revealing the gray stucco beneath, and the ring around the pot of coffee looked rancid like a dark plum. When he got back into his room, he noticed he still had seven hours until the noted time. The beers from last night were the same temperature as the room. He used this as an excuse to throw the beers into the fridge and go out to get new ones while they became cold. He returned with a 12-Pack of Rainier and did his evening routine: News, sports, Cheers. By 8:30pm his eyes became heavy, but he resisted. He stood up and began to pace around the room. He kept drinking and watching the same commercials as the week prior. Miraculously, the man stayed awake and by 1:55am the man straightened his back and pressed his shoulder blades so close that they could hold a can. He sat in the captain’s chair like he was in an important meeting. He fidgeted and checked the time ten times. When the time struck, the man met the sailor. It was the same sailor, stout, white mustache, captain’s hat. Yet the commercial was different. This time, the sailor didn’t hesitate to start talking. The man listened. The sailor said, “I’d like to invite you to Ivar’s Indian Salmon House for a taste of Northwest History. We built this salmon house exactly like an Indian Longhouse. And we smoke fresh salmon over glowing alder coals just like the Indians did. It’s delicious, a complete seafood meal that you’ll never forget.” The camera pans to reveal a person wearing a white war bonnet with ermine pelts dangling from the rosette, pinching the man’s temple. The sailor turns to the man and asks, “Right Chief?” The man in the war bonnet answers, “Mmmm, just like my mother used to make.” The sailor turns back to the man watching the commercial and says, “And mine too.”
The man in the chair turned off the TV. The sound of beer bottles clanked around his feet. He fished for his pen and wrote “Ivar’s Indian Salmon House” underlining salmon. He slipped into bed, trying to fathom the last place he saw a salmon.
