Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

As has been the case for days now, I have tons in my head that wants to be written about, but I have little desire to actually do it. It's not really a bad thing, it's more a desire to keep this shit internalized longer. When it comes out, I think it might just be fuckin' good stuff. Waht you are about to read is maybe 5% of what I've rehearsed inside my skull.

I spent the 4th on another history jaunt, taking a new route back to Cincy from Marion, heading due east on SR26 (a truly dismal drive through the most boring parts of Indiana) until I crosssed the Ohio border and hit Fort Recovery.

This was the site of a major battle in the Indian Wars of the 1790s, when Gen. Arthur St. Clair had his ass handed to him by a contingent of Indians and British, in what was, relatively speaking, the worst defeat the US Army ever suffered. A couple years later, "Mad Anthony" Wayne built Ft. Recovery here, and won a key battle, leading to the Battle Of Fallen Timbers, and finally the Treaty Of Greenville in 1795, which gave much of present day Ohio to the Americans. Ft. Recovery also boasts a marker at the northwest corner of the line drawn by the Treaty, which went across Ohio to this point, then southwest (cutting through part of eastern Indiana) to the mouth of the Kentucky River where it meets the Ohio River at present day Carrolton, Kentucky, which, coincidentally enough, is where I often stopped as a halfway point on the drive from Cincinnai to Louisville, and where I spent a night a few years ago on a marathon weekend of gigs with the country band I spent a summer playing with.

Fort Recovery is a charming little white burg, and it's nice to see a town that takes its history seriously. A lovely park contains the area where the fort was built, a few log cabins donated by local residents, a small museum, a ballpark, and a long stretch of grass through a valley below the fort, which once was the bed of the Wabash River, re-directed in the early 1900s. Shit, I'd forgotten the Wabash even went that far east.but that's what the fort once looked down upon.

From there, I drove to Greenville, which had less to offer than I thought it would, though maybe I missed the good stuff. I saw a couple markers downtown and that was it. Well, I also saw a very pretty blonde at the grocery where I stopped for cheese and beer, probably six months pregnant, and I awoke at 4AM this morning from a bizarre dream about her wherein I was unsuccessfully trying to get her to fuck me. So much for the purity of my historic quests...

From Greenville, I headed south on 127 towards Eaton. And yes, we all know what I wish *I* was "eaton" during the drive....

Just west of Eaton is the memorial park for Fort St. Clair, named after the aforementioned general, and one-time governor of the Northwest Territory and President of the Continental Congress. Apparantly, he was also an asshole, given the tone of the history I've read. His massive defeat near Ft. Recovery led to the first ever congressional investigation in US history, his opposition to Ohio statehood made him unpopular, and he was removed from his position over the Territory by Thomas Jefferson. Oh, and his father was a hamster and his mother smelt of elderberries. Or so I'm led to believe.

The site marking Ft. St. Clair is GORGEOUS. A remarkably beautiful park, with a children's playground next to a small stream, and paths leading up into the trees behind which lie the sit eon which the fort was built, and the graves of six US soldiers who died there.

I need to take Katie there soemtime soon.

The day's history lesson complete, I headed home down 122, to I-75, and finally to Loveland.

The drive was accompianied by a Prince best-of CD and my own thoughts on what I'd seen that day.

The most instructive part of the day for me was back at Ft. Recovery, a few blocks from the fort site, where stands a large monument dedicated to American soldiers. A plaque there made my blood boil, and reminded me once again that there is truly nothing new under the sun.

The plaque would make our current president proud. It's easy to forget that the line of propoganda horseshit we've been fed since 9/11 is really the same tired nonsense that Americans have suffered through since our nation's inception, but reading that plaque, the truth flashed before me again.

Talk of the soldiers who gave their lives for "freedom and civilization" fighting the "savage foe." Ahh yes, killing Indians and stealing their land. FREEDOM, boys and girls. Now, granted, the "savage foe" moniker might fit if applied to the BRITISH who were helping the Indians out at the time, but seriously now...

Spot the obscure Zappa semi-reference...

My father pulled out a couple of his books for me on Monday night. We were up until well after midnight, discussing the history of the Northwest Territory. He on the couch, me in front of the computer.

My love of history clearly comes from my dad. He gets his details mixed up more these days, but shit, I can't remember half of what I read three hours ago. I enjoy listening to him, even as I realize how full of shit the perspective is.

It's sad that 200 years of "civilization" has taught so little to so many of the people who later benefitted from the campaigns undertaken by St. Clair, Wayne, George Rogers Clark, and others who truly molded American history while engaging in some of these truly abominable acts of genocide and land-grabbing.

I sit here today and type this because of these men. My life was made possible by their sins. And for that, i begin to find part of what it means to be me. It's easier to accept the constant fight between two extremes that lives in my head every day when I realize that my very EXISTENCE is dependent on such bipolarness. I am a living benificiary of the westward expansion fought for at these sites I visted in the last couple days. Many of us in America are. Without the reprehensible acts and attitudes of these people who, even years later, were unable to find it in themselves to see these Indians as more than "sub-human", my life, and the lives of those I care most about, would simply not be.

Fucking weird shit to chew on this dark night, a bottle of Old Crow and an empty pack of Marlboro 27s fuelling me.

I had Katie for a few hours this evening. We went to her doctor, and she endured three booster shots. Well, she screamed her head off. but she got over it quick. I was highly amused at her act later in the evening, insisting that she couldn't walk for the pain in her legs, yet asking to play outside the second I took her home. My kid is learning more and more how to bullshit her elders (I could write volumes from the past week or so alone) and while part of me finds it frustrating, part of me is quite proud of her. I WANT my girl to set herself apart from those she percieves as slowing her individual momentum. But teaching her how to do so while respecting the rights of others...that, my friends, is a challenge I fear.

I'll write more about that shit later.

One story, though:

In the grocery, Saturday night:

Daddy nearly breaks his neck trying to get a second look at THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST IN LUSCIOUS FEMALE FORM, standing near the potatoes.

"Daddy, are you looking for a girlfriend?"

Ouch.

"Well, I guess so honey. What do you think about that?"

"I don't like it. Then you'll love her more than you love me."

Double fucking ouch.

"Honey, that's not true. I'll never let any woman get in the way of my love for you. I promise that, Kate."

It took about three hours for me to process her reaction, a broad, peaceful smile.

Well, I'll be damned. My sweet innocent little girl was fishing for something.

That smile came back into my head over and over again, my brain unable to put two and two together and admit the implications.

You little booger, you set me up.

She knew EXACTLY what she was doing when she cut into me with that question, she knew EXACTLY the response she wanted, and she damn well got it.

I'm REALLY proud of her.

I'm glad she's learning these skills. As a child of a divorce, splitting time between two parents, she has every right to question everything, and use her skills as "precious little girl" to know where she stands with us. It's quite disarming to witness this display of manipulation, but it's pretty fuckin' cool, too. I don't want her to forget to treat others as she wants to be treated, I don't want her to learn a mean, vicious streak, but I DO want her to find her place and her own identity as soon as possible.

Because I'm thirty-fucking-six and I haven't done it yet, and THAT sucks.

I think I have a lot to learn from her.

Love,
Dougie