At the end of the 3-D western Hondo – better than today’s 3-D; the lances flew right out at you, and they literally made you duck – perennial movie Indian fighter John Wayne responded to the marauding Indians being thoroughly vanquished, by saying,
“It’s the end of a way of life. Too bad. It was a good one.”
Every year, at our Thanksgiving gathering, each dinner guest is issued a cardboard headband to wear – half of them, with a painted buckle on the front, the other half with a stapled feather on the back.
The dinner’s host wears a full out, though hardly authentic, Indian headdress.
I commit to this annual ritual not just to commemorate the “taught them how to grown corn” story, but to pay tribute to a way of life that was decimated so that another way of life could ultimately prevail.
Thanksgiving is a wonderful holiday, and I take great joy in its celebration.
But it seems to me that, somewhere between “Firsts” and “Seconds”, it’s worth taking a moment to remember that, to be what we ultimately became, somebody was paying the price.
I don’t know what more to do about that. Beyond keeping it in mind.