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Texas is the biggest shithole in America.

Then the Bible must definitely also be under fiction.

Good grief. Please can we build a wall along the Canada-US border?

What the fuck? That’s so absurd it’s almost funny

It’s worth noting that the book does contain several chapters which, on their own, would probably be classified as “historical fiction”.

They are clearly identified by the title “When Life Was Our Own”, and the author introduces them as a story which will provide context and depth for the surrounding non-fiction text.

A pretty reasonable approach for a children’s book, and also one which is thematically appropriate, given the importance of oral history in the preservation of Native American culture.

The book starts with a story, "When Life Was Our Own," which describes Wampanoag life before any European contact. The story was created to re- late traditional Wampanoag culture, beliefs, prac- tices, and values based on our oral traditions and research done over many years. There are no writ- ten sources of these early times, due to the processes of colonization described in the other parts of the book. An understanding of precontact life brings clarity to the impacts of colonization on Indigenous people.

A party full of racists and revisionists for personal gain will get you this result.

Montgomery County...not surprised.

Excerpt from the book:

Chapter 1

When Life Was Our Own: Spring and the Time of the New Year

Greeting the Day Little Bird felt a slight breeze on her face and the sudden warmth of the morning sun, bidding her to open her eyes to a new day. Her body resisted rousing from the warm furs of the bed. Maybe just one more snuggle before getting up! Just yesterday, her family and many others had moved from the winter home to their summer cornfields. Sachem Corn Tassel, the leader of their village, had Little Bird’s family return to the same field they’d planted in last year.

Little Bird was twelve now, and had helped her Grandma Yellow Sky, Grandpa Singing Wolf, and Auntie Blue Heron carry all the bags and baskets that held everything to set up their summer household. There were dishes and cooking utensils; tools for tanning hides, woodworking, and stone knapping; axes and hoes for working in the garden; and bags of cordage (string and rope) used for making nets or weaving mats. It was only a mile’s walk from the winter village, but it all seemed to get heavier as Little Bird walked along. Her arms felt like she had carried ten bags instead of only four!

Little Bird finally got one eye open and saw her mom standing just outside the door. Smiling Dove was offering her morning prayers. Little Bird slid out from under the furs and quickly dressed. She went out and took Mom’s hand, joining her in giving thanks for another morning. Her dad was standing near the cornfield. Strong Bear faced east toward the ocean, his hand raised with his tobacco offering.

Little Bird looked across all the cornfields, which went as far as the eye could see. Everyone’s houses were in the middle of the fields, where they could watch over their crops. People were coming out of their houses, offering prayers and getting fires started. Little Bird loved this first part of the morning. It was quiet and peaceful, and you could collect your thoughts for the day. The smell of salt air was gently pungent, with only birdsong accenting the tranquility.

Back toward the winter village, the forest met the edges of the cornfields. The pine trees whispered their greetings as the wind rustled through their thick branches. Little Bird loved the sound of the wind rustling through the pines. She took a moment to just stand and listen.

Summer Move

Mom and Dad had come a few days earlier to check the frame of the house and make any necessary repairs. They had brought the bulrush and cattail mats that covered the frame so the rest of the family would have a roof over their heads when they arrived. Smiling Dove’s field was close to a stream, at a place where the water tumbled down over the rocks like a tiny waterfall. A little pool formed at the bottom of the rocks, and sometimes you could find a bass or perch or trout resting from his travels. It was in a shady spot, deep enough to sit in on a hot sunny day, to splash around and wash the dust off from working in the garden. Last summer, when Strawberry, Little Bird’s little sister, stood in the pool, the water came up to her neck. This year she was six, and so much taller, she figured the water would only be up to her chest!

Every day more people arrived, setting up and settling in for the summer. There was always so much to do! Some house frames needed repair; some needed to be replaced altogether. Smiling Dove’s house was in good shape and didn’t need a lot of work. The fields needed to be burned over and the soil turned. There were herring to be caught, Planting Ceremonies to hold, and corn to set in the earth. When all these things were done, it was time for the New Year Ceremonies, on the new moon in the Sowing Month When Corn Is Planted.

Time to Eat!

After morning prayers, Smiling Dove went back to their storage pit and brought out the rest of the dried food left from last fall. There was still a huge basket of corn for eating, as well as the seed corn. Little Bird and Strawberry helped carry bags of dried beans, making two more trips to get all the baskets of dried squash and pumpkin, sunflower seeds, blueberries, and cranberries. There was even a small basket of smoked deer meat--maybe enough for a few meals.

Mom took everything into the house. She was going to cook inside today, as there was still an edge on the wind. Besides, the arbor over the summer kitchen just outside still needed new sheets of bark on its roof. The old ones were brittle and breaking, their edges curling up. Smiling Dove stirred the embers of the fire back together, added some kindling, and got a good blaze going again. She took a medium-size clay kettle, filled it half full of water, and set it on three stones next to the main fire. Putting two handfuls of dried corn into the mortar, she began to crack it with the stone pestle.

Strawberry wanted to help so Mom showed her how to pick the heavy pestle up and drop it on the kernels to break them down into meal. Strawberry had to use both hands to hold the pestle even though it only had to be lifted a little ways. The mortar was deep enough to keep the corn from bouncing out when the pestle hit it. A very determined and zealous Strawberry, however, lifted the pestle too high, so when it dropped on the corn, kernels flew out, landing on the ground. Smiling Dove and Little Bird knelt and began picking them up. Neither had to say a word to Strawberry. She also started picking up the corn, realizing her mistake. She remembered the times when Grandma, Mom, Blue Heron, and others talked about corn and all food coming from living beings, how corn was a sacred plant to be handled with respect. The flyaway kernels were rinsed off and dried, to be used another day.

Meanwhile, Mom asked Little Bird to start a fire under the kettle, between its tripod of three rocks. The sticks and twigs burned into coals in just a few minutes. Little Bird kept feeding the fire, and very soon bubbles began to form on the water. Mom put three handfuls of Strawberry’s cracked corn into the pot.

She asked Little Bird to fill another kettle with more water at the spring. It was not far from the house, rippling out of the bank of the stream. By the time she got back, the corn was boiling steadily, and Mom had added some dried beans. She tamped the fire down a bit, so the pot would simmer. Strong Bear had made her a new stirring paddle of maple wood, carving a dove at the end of the handle. The girls could see how pleased Mom was with the paddle as she stirred the food, making sure nothing was sticking to the bottom of the kettle.

Strawberry had used all the strength in her arms to over-heft the pestle during her corn-pounding lesson. She leaned back on the bed to rest--her arms felt the way mud pies look when you make them in the rain. She closely watched Smiling Dove, who was grinding more kernels in the mortar. Strawberry realized that Mom really didn’t put much effort into cracking the corn. She lifted the pestle and let it drop. Lift and drop, lift and drop. She let the pestle do the work.

Little Bird didn’t think she’d ever been hungrier and couldn’t wait to eat! They’d had a big supper when they got to the fields, which clearly wasn’t enough to hold her until breakfast.

She helped Mom mix the cornmeal with hot water and dried blueberries, making dough for boiled bread. They formed the dough into little round cakes and dropped them into the simmering pot of stew when it was just about done.

Finally! The food was ready! Little Bird waited patiently, helping Mom serve bowls of stew and boiled bread to Grandma and Grandpa and to her dad. Then Mom gave Little Bird and Strawberry their breakfast, before making a dish for herself. No one started eating until a prayer of thanks was given, to the corn, the beans, the water, the blueberries--everything that made the stew hot and satisfying on a cool spring morning.