The Badlands exist as a testament to the Almighty's twisted sense of humor. Gullies easy to scramble down into but impossible to scramble back out of. Colors from a dreamscape by daylight and a nightmarescape by moonlight. Where a young boy startled leaps over a rattlesnake sunbathing on a path. Where to step ten feet from your door is to be hopelessly lost. Where a dazzling array of wildflowers carpets the desert. Where an entire nation can remain hidden from the soldiers who hunt them. Where the voices of ten thousand ghosts whisper among the rocks.
Our family took a car trip to South Dakota in the early 90's. The boys were too young to appreciate the history, but just the right age to enjoy the fresh air, climbing and exploring. We visited Wall Drug and the Corn Palace, basically tourist traps. We spent an afternoon at the Rapid City Reptile Gardens. We stopped at Deadwood, which was indeed dead wood. We took the Homestake Gold Mine tour at Lead, the tours through Wind Cave and the majestic Jewel Cave, the tour of Boot Hill where I saw a grave with my father's name carved on the headstone.
We spent a day at Custer State Park, dining in the magnificent lodge (which was fully booked and out of our price range), photographed the bison, and fed apples to the wild burros. We saw Mount Rushmore, awe-inspiring at both sunrise and sunset (do not miss the evening program). We went inside a furnished sod house (Google it) and stood in the middle of a prairie dog town where I swear the denizens were laughing as they played catch me if you can with our boys.
We came very close to having our van pushed off the side of a cliff by a very pissed off buffalo. The park rangers emphasized again and again that the bison were not friendly, did not like to be approached, that these were powerful wild animals, and that they could be VERY dangerous. As we were cruising one of the park roads, we spied a dirt turnoff that went up the side of a hill. Some little ways up the road was a lone buffalo resting in the shade. I figured what a great photo-op that would be, so with my wife and kids in the car, I proceeded up the incline and stopped next to the solitary creature. I rolled down my window and started snapping some pictures. He was clearly annoyed at the intrusion and started grunting and snorting.
It occurred to me that he was off by himself for a reason, and I immediately thought that discretion was the better part of valor, and that a hasty retreat was in order. The one thing I didn't reckon on was that there was no place to turn around. I drove a little farther up the road but quickly realized that going forward was impossible, so I started backing down the hill. I had my window open so I could glance behind me, and when I got back down to the spot where the buffalo was laying, I discovered that he was now standing, as tall and heavy as our vehicle, and was staring me right in the eye. If looks could kill, I would have been turned to stone on the spot as a monument to numbskulls.
We ended our vacation by staying for several days at the Cedar Pass Lodge, the only motel within Badlands National Park. We actually rented one of the stand alone cabins, and it was the highlight of our South Dakota adventure. To step out our door and literally be in the heart of the badlands was to be close to the heart of the Creator.
One morning we decided to take a detour to see the Wounded Knee Memorial. It was actually a longer drive than expected, and when we got there, it didn't look like much. Just a bare flat-topped hill surrounded by a lot of dirt. We parked in a dusty lot across the road and trudged up the path. I was not prepared for what happened when I stepped foot onto the plateau.
I do not want to turn you away when I say that a feeling of profound spirituality enveloped me. The Wounded Knee Memorial is a very strange place. When you walk up, you pass under an arch, topped by, of all things, a small cross. There are some graves, a carved list of Indian names on a plaque, a fenced off monument, and a few bunches of desiccated flowers. Looking out in 360 degrees, the sense of loneliness, emptiness and isolation are overwhelming. The knowledge of something lost is almost unbearable. I am not going to try to explain further, because I can't.
Today's date marks the anniversary of the massacre at Wounded Knee. As described by Wikipedia, in the years prior to the massacre, the U.S. Government had continued to seize the Lakota's lands. The once large bison herds had been hunted to near-extinction by European settlers. Treaty promises to protect reservation lands from encroachment by settlers and gold miners were not implemented as dictated by treaty. As a result, there was unrest on the reservations. It was during this time that news spread among the reservations of a Paiute prophet named Wovoka, founder of the Ghost Dance religion. He had a vision that the Christian Messiah, Jesus Christ, had returned to earth in the form of a Native American.
The Messiah would raise all the Native American believers above the earth. During this time the white man would disappear from Native lands, the buffalo herds and all the other animals would return in abundance, and the ghosts of their ancestors would return to earth — hence the word "Ghost" in "Ghost Dance". They would then return to earth to live in peace. All this would be brought about by performance of the "Ghost Dance." Lakota ambassadors to Wovoka, Kicking Bear and Short Bull taught the Lakota that while performing the Ghost Dance, they would wear special Ghost Dance shirts as seen by Black Elk in a vision. Kicking Bear said the shirts had the power to repel bullets.
The Wounded Knee Massacre occurred on December 29, 1890, on the Lakota Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in what is now the state South Dakota. It was the last battle of the American Indian Wars. On the day before, a detachment of the U.S. 7th Cavalry Regiment commanded by Major Samuel M. Whitside intercepted Spotted Elk's band of Miniconjou Lakota and 38 Hunkpapa Lakota near Porcupine Butte and escorted them five miles westward to Wounded Knee Creek, where they made camp. The remainder of the 7th Cavalry Regiment arrived, led by Colonel James W. Forsyth and surrounded the encampment supported by four Hotchkiss guns.
On the morning of December 29, the troops went into the camp to disarm the Lakota. One version of events claims that during the process of disarming the Lakota, a deaf tribesman named Black Coyote was reluctant to give up his rifle, claiming he had paid a lot for it. A scuffle over Black Coyote's rifle escalated and a shot was fired which resulted in the 7th Cavalry's opening fire indiscriminately from all sides, killing men, women, and children, as well as some of their own fellow soldiers. Those few Lakota warriors who still had weapons began shooting back at the attacking soldiers, who quickly suppressed the Lakota fire. The surviving Lakota fled, but U.S. cavalrymen pursued and killed many who were unarmed.
By the time it was over, at least 150 men, women, and children of the Lakota had been killed and 51 wounded. Twenty-five soldiers also died, and 39 were wounded. At least twenty soldiers were awarded the Medal of Honor.
Capable of firing an explosive shell or canister shot every six seconds, the Hotchkiss 1.65" Mountain Gun was a light artillery piece with a range of 2 miles. The canister shot produced a fan shaped spread of thirty lead balls, and was particularly devastating at close range. Four of these were used at Wounded Knee.
Soon after the event, Dewey Beard, his brother Joseph Horn Cloud and others formed the Wounded Knee Survivors Association, which came to include descendants. They sought compensation from the US government for the many fatalities and injured. Today the association is independent and works to preserve and protect the historic site from exploitation, and to administer any memorial erected there. Papers of the association (1890–1973) and related materials are held by the University of South Dakota and are available for research. It was not until the 1990s that a memorial to the Lakota was included in the National Historic Landmark.
Black Elk (1863–1950) a Lakota medicine man later stated:
"I did not know then how much was ended. When I look back now from this high hill of my old age, I can still see the butchered women and children lying heaped and scattered all along the crooked gulch as plain as when I saw them with eyes young. And I can see that something else died there in the bloody mud, and was buried in the blizzard. A people's dream died there. It was a beautiful dream ... the nation's hope is broken and scattered. There is no center any longer, and the sacred tree is dead."
RACINE - Leslie Ann (Nee: Lawson) Woods, 56, passed away at home surrounded by her family on January 3, 2014. Beloved wife of Ralph Woods. Daughter of Louann (Nee: Rezabek) Lawson and the late Harold Lawson. Mother of Jennifer (Joshua) Mohr, Jessica (Jonathan) Knoll and Caroline Woods. Grandmother of Jonathan, Joshua and Julia Mohr and Mackenzie Knoll. Sister to Christopher and Jeffrey Lawson. Ralph and Leslie met and fell in love at Northern Illinois University. They spent several years as residents in Illinois, where all three of their children were born. In 1989, they moved to Racine, Wisconsin where they raised their family and made many cherished friends. To celebrate her life with all who loved her, there will be visitations in both states, as well as a memorial service and reception held in Racine. A visitation will take place at Trinity United Methodist Church, 3825 Erie Street, on Saturday, January 11 at 1 p.m. A memorial service celebrating her life will begin at 2 p.m. Following the service, a reception will be held at the Harbor Lite Yacht Club, 559 State Street, from 3 p.m. to 6 p.m. In lieu of flowers, the family has requested that donations be made to the BloodCenter Research Foundation, PO Box 2178, Milwaukee, WI 53201. Purath-Strand Funeral Home 3915 Douglas Ave. Racine, WI 53402 (262) 639-8000
