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Reflections in the Silver Cup

BOOKS ON THE JOURNEY VI

BOOKS ON THE JOURNEY VI
A Final Assortment



Starting off with titles that are mentioned in the epigraphs of To Drink from the Silver Cup. The epigraph for the entire book, “You cannot disown what is yours. Flung out, there is always the return, the reckoning … perhaps the reconciliation. There is always the return. And the wound will take you there. It is a blood-trail.” This is from Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? which, by the way, is what Jeanette’s mother, whom she always refers to as Mrs. Winterson, said to her regarding her decision to live as the lesbian she is. I guess an epigraph for a book should encapsulate the book, and this one pretty much does, so one could ask why I bothered to write it. As I’ve often said, and then elaborated on at readings, “Because I had to.” (from the front material)

The Prologue, entitled “Leaving: 1964” has its own epigraph from Thomas Wolfe’s Look Homeward, Angel: “…a stone, a leaf, a door…O lost, and by the wind grieved…” It’s little wonder that I connected so powerfully with Look Homeward, Angel that for years I called it my favorite book. Certainly there was the prose poetry, a literary phenomenon on which I once wrote a paper. But it was more the theme of loss and Read More 
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BOOK REVIEW

Recognition, Responsibility, Reconstruction, Reparation:
A Review of Native Americans, the Mainline Church, and the Quest for Interracial Justice

by Anna Redsand





A rectangular pit lined with dressed stones stands on a low hill in Toadlena, New Mexico, near the center of the Navajo Nation. The pit comprises the basement and foundation of what had, years earlier, been my missionary family’s home. The pit is half-filled with charred timbers, a bathtub, a sink, and the rusted remains of a coal furnace. Sometime after my family moved away, the house burned to the ground. Investigators said the fire was started intentionally. It wasn’t the first time. Two other houses we had lived in had fallen to arson, never while my family lived in them, but when missionaries who followed my father did. I have always wondered if these events were pained attempts to redress wrongs—cultural genocide aided and abetted by missionaries’ actions in a land that did not belong to us.

It was from this context and its many implications that, as I read David Phillips Hansen’s Native Americans, the Mainline Church, and the Quest for Interracial Justice, I flagged lines and paragraphs in the book until its text block looked like Read More 
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