For the Love of Books

By Zach Hively

This was a challenge I did not expect: Tell me what you’re good at.

A friend recently asked me this—to list ten of my top skills or abilities. That’s it. Just ten things. The hard part should have been limiting myself to ten. Limiting myself to ten is most definitely not one of my top skills. But I learned one of my top skills is also not remembering all, or any, of the very many things I’m good at.

So I asked my friend for a clue: What is something I can do well?
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“Well,” my friend said, “you’re very tidy.”

This was not the sort of glowing clue I had anticipated. But I accepted it graciously—there, that’s one of my top skills, accepting underwhelming compliments with grace—even if it was wrong, because it is impossible for me to be tidy. After all, I love books. One human being contains multitudes, but one cannot contain both tidiness and book-love.

And I do mean LOVE books. One can HAVE books and demonstrate immaculately tidiness, in that Scandinavian showroom or Japanese spa sort of way. Each book, neatly dusted, right where it belongs. Shelved, more than likely, by color and height or some other preposterous aesthetic.

But loving books implies a particular comfy disarray. From where I sit, I see four stacks of books dislodged from any of the major bookshelves in my home: one stack on a stool stepping in as an end table; one by the front door; one by an armchair; and one on a kitchen counter, perilously close to where I do the dishes when a friend is coming over and I want to appear tidy.

Then there are the bookshelves themselves: fairly neat, by design, books stood in rows of colorful spines. But they exude a certain chaos, too—unalphabetized, for starters, though with a catalogue system I understand intuitively yet inarticulably. More than this, though, the books lurk rather airily: some leering, some lounging; a few might as well be heckling me to read them. They are like the crows that fill a leafless cottonwood tree, in full cahoots—and I keep bring more home. (Books, that is, not crows, though I am not opposed.)

The tidy thing to do would be to go digital, put every title I ever wanted on a device, linked to my account. But I do not want to be tidy. I want to be terrible at such tidiness—and terribly happy, here in the best little hoardhouse this side of Texas, surrounded by so many things I don’t yet know, so many things I might just yet get good at.

***Speaking of books: the Kickstarter campaign for Call Me Zach Hively Because That Is My Name is in full swing. We have stretch goals—possibilities for an audiobook and collectible book editions among them.

This is also your first chance to get the ebook (if you’re that kind of tidy) and your only chance to get a hardcover (if you’re that kind of bibliophile).
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Become a backer
But the most important thing is that the campaign has succeeded. We’re beyond 180% of our goal, which means that this book is getting published no matter what. Thank you all who have pledged support so far to make this collection a reality.

By Sara Wright

​Last night I feasted on button mushrooms just after finishing this article which didn’t have a title. Suddenly an ancient memory surfaced… I was about three when my great grandmother and I used to play a game with the above name.
 
I have had an intuitive sense that most mushrooms have similar medicinal values because they are all part of the underground fungal network even if they are grown on trees, grasslands or deserts. I decided to do a little research on the common button mushroom to support or refute my intuition.
 
 As I suspected button mushrooms do have most of the health benefits of those harvested in the wild. There are some differences but overall, they are minimal. If you are looking for a particular supplement it’s sensible to do your own research to find the mushroom you think has more of the benefits you need.

 Agaricus biporus is one of the fungal kingdom’s edible mushrooms that can be harvested at different stages of growth. When the fruiting fungi are young and white, we call these mushrooms buttons. At midpoint they become tannish cremini. At maturity the button becomes a portobello. All stages have the same medicinal/nutritional benefits.

These fungi are grown on a composted substrate that is traditionally made from wheat, straw, poultry manure, and gypsum. Of course, these substrates are attached to mycelial network underground.

My buttons thrive on compost heaps which are a blend of straw, and many other plant left overs. I don’t use any aged manure, but that’s because I don’t happen to have any. My  button mushrooms efficiently break down the organic matter as all good saprophytes do.

Unlike some people, I have no problem using any kind of manure as part of my substrate, because during composting microorganisms break down the matter producing a fiber rich, carbon containing humus with inorganic nutrients like nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium. Scattering my compost is a new experiment I am presently engaging in, so I never know who is going to appear where.

According to mycologist Merlin Sheldrake less than five percent of fruiting fungi have been studied and almost nothing is known of the underlying mycelial networks that support the (roughly) 20,000 mushrooms that appear above ground that we know about. Yet some mushroom species are already on the IUCN Red List.
 
One of the ways mushroom spores function to support forest ecology is to rise into the atmosphere and bind with water molecules to create rain (Merlin Sheldrake).
 
 According to the New Scientist mushroom spores are also full of DNA that bind, re-combine, and mutate to produce genetic material that is diverse and adapted for changing climates. Other than these examples little is known about how mushrooms effect the ecology of the forests, grasslands, deserts they grow in. In deserts most mushrooms grow underground to avoid drought.
 
 With 33 million people in the US and the loss of a staggering number of forests, it seems prudent to forage in the wild with care. Please do not take more fungi than you need and allow some spores to seed woods and sky. Many small animals and insects love mushrooms, so I am assuming that removing too many fungi might also be a problem for wildlife.
 
 Most wild mushrooms including Oyster, Turkey Tail, Reishi, Shitake, Lions Mane and others can be grown quite easily. Many companies offer mushroom spawn and substrates for home growing as an alternative to foraging in the wild.
 
Watching mushrooms develop is not only fun but educational. The first oysters I grew a bunch of years ago were so astonishing that I chopped and sauteed them reluctantly. I’ve grown other mushrooms including Lions Mane a particularly beautiful mushroom that looks to me like a frozen waterfall. I love the process of growing fungi at home and am never disappointed by the edible results. In the forest I do not forage focusing instead on the relationships between the fungi and the kind of forest that they live in. Each species has its own niche. I eat some of my button mushrooms at home but leave many for the rest of nature to feast upon.
 
 Until recently serious research hadn’t been done on Agaricus b. because the fungal fruits were so ‘common’. Yet I came across a surprising array of articles that discussed the similarity of the substances in button mushrooms to other wild fruiting fungi.
 
 Scientists at Penn state recently identified a new compound in button mushrooms that probably benefits gut health in ways we didn’t know about. Mushrooms as a group including buttons aid in digestive health as prebiotics. Prebiotics and postbiotics are less well-known but equally important for gastrointestinal and systemic health.
 
Like wild fungi button mushrooms contain several different anti-inflammatory and antioxidant compounds that may help improve heart health. They are an important supplement for anyone that suffers from heart disease, one reason that I am delighted that my dogs love them. My Lucy has an enlarged heart.
 
Button mushrooms boost immune systems naturally. They also have anti- tumor and anti-cancer properties.
 
Buttons also have a number of other nutrients that benefit anyone who eats them. A breakdown of these fungi reveals that in a one cup serving, Aagaricus bisporus contains just as much potassium as a banana and can deliver between up to 30 percent of the daily recommended intake of B 1& 2 vitamins that are essential for human health.
Regular consumptions of white button mushrooms may even improve mood by regulating hormones that also keep the brain healthy.

White button mushrooms are also rich in both vitamin C and selenium, so they contribute to immune function.

These mushrooms are one of the only plant foods that contain a natural source of vitamin D.
Perhaps one of the surprising health benefits of button mushrooms is that they are a good source of plant protein. About one and a half cups of button mushrooms equals eating one egg.
Recent studies have found that button mushrooms are particularly high in glutathione, an important antioxidant that helps combat free radicals. Free radicals attack important macromolecules leading to cell damage and homeostatic disruption. 

Other studies suggest that button mushrooms can improve immune function by increasing the production of antiviral proteins.  

Another benefit is that compounds found in button mushrooms called flavonoids have the potential to act as both antioxidants and pro-oxidants. Cells have a natural life and death cycle. We are constantly getting rid of old cells and creating new ones simultaneously. When cells refuse to die, they typically become cancer and tumor cells. The flavonoids work in two ways: when they are antioxidants, they help improve healthy cell survival, and when they act as pro-oxidants, they help encourage apoptosis, which is the natural cell death that helps prevent tumor growth.

All nine amino acids are found in button mushrooms.

Although this is hardly a comprehensive list of Agaricus’s virtues, it gives the reader a chance to reconsider wild foraging until we know more about forest ecology. And for those of you who are gardeners why not grow buttons on one of your compost heaps?

The main threats to wild mushroom collecting are loss of habitat, water, air, and soil pollution that create toxic conditions for collecting that are not obvious even to experienced foragers. Fungi are adapted to specific geographic locations as anyone who spends time in a particular biome already knows. Change that ecology and the mushrooms are gone. Many thrive on specific trees, animals, or soil. If the hosts go extinct, the fungi go extinct too. Of course, a wildly erratic warming climate is another primal threat with droughts discouraging fruiting. Extended periods of rain and wet weather create a feast for fungal plant pathogens since the latter are dependent upon moisture for spore dispersal and plant infection.
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I’ll end this essay reminding folks that harvesting wild fungi for food and commercial use is a major factor affecting species survival. Please, let’s give the mycologists a chance to study mushrooms in the wild before we strip these places bare.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

I was born in Miami, Florida, but spent my formative years in San Juan, Puerto Rico. In 2015, my spouse and I embarked on a bold move, relocating to Abiquiu, New Mexico, near our daughters who resided in Texas. My work as an artist entails creating figurative oil paintings and ceramic sculptures that explore feminism, mythology, and cultural heritage. The human form is the focal point of my works, frequently blurring the line between reality and surrealism. I aim to provide my audience with several possibilities, enabling them to engage, connect, and formulate their interpretations.

I find oil painting and clay sculpting equally challenging and exhilarating, so I often switch between the two mediums. Ideas come to me spontaneously, particularly while driving or in dreams. Once an idea takes root in my subconscious, I become obsessed and feel compelled to bring it to life.

My painting process often begins with creating a sketch, using art model poses, and modifying them with Adobe Photoshop until the composition, color palette, and theme harmonize. This sketch is transferred onto the canvas, and I begin a dialogue with the artwork. At this point, I may make modifications to the drawing until it accurately conveys my vision. Next, I apply layers of oil paint slowly, commencing with a transparent oxide red base color, which often enhances the nuances and gradations of the other colors used. Patience is crucial when working with oils, as it is essential to achieve a result that exudes the life, texture, and mystique I strive for.

In the latter stages of my artistic career, I discovered the art of sculpting in clay. A fellow puertorrican artist suggested I join a group of sculptors at a clay studio. What followed was a cathartic moment for me, and since then, whenever I feel stressed or drained from painting, I turn to clay for solace, or vice versa. I am more impulsive when sculpting than when painting. I usually do not begin with a sketch. Instead, I have a concept and dive straight into building the sculpture. I prefer using mid-fire stoneware clay such as Laguna’s Red Sculptural or Max’s Paper Clay. I construct the sculpture using coils and slabs, often using a mirror to ensure the figure’s features are accurate during the building process. Once the sculpture is complete, I fire it at cone 3, strengthening the piece and preparing it for glazing. I then glaze-fire the sculpture numerous times at lower temperatures until I am content with the surface treatment.
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In my artwork, I am captivated by the enigmatic aspects of human nature, both internal and external, and how we navigate our emotions, desires, fantasies, and impulses. As a result, my focus in art centers around figurative pieces. My paintings and sculptures are unique and original, created using only the finest archival materials to ensure longevity. My home and studio are atop a Mesa in Abiquiu, NM, affording a breathtaking 360-degree view that includes the legendary Cerro Pedernal, a favorite of Georgia O’Keeffe. This ancient land, steeped in history and enchantment, has inspired my work to new heights. I am a member of the New Mexico Potters and Clay Artists and the Gentileschi Aegis Gallery Association. My pieces form part of both private and public collections. They can currently be seen at the Nest Showroom in Abiquiu, as well as at the NOSA Inn and Restaurant at Ojo Caliente and at my studio gallery.

Can you tell us about a time you’ve had to pivot?
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In 2014, my spouse proposed relocating from Puerto Rico to the United States. He transitioned from managing a small business to working remotely and was eager for a significant change. My artistic career had only recently gained momentum in Puerto Rico, after a prolonged intermission. Consequently, I was keen on establishing myself further as an artist before any potential relocation. The primary incentive for the move was to be closer to our daughters, both living and working in Houston, Texas. We deliberated the matter for a considerable length of time and eventually decided to explore our options. In 2015, we sold our residence in Ponce, which was a significant event for us, having lived there for 28 years since our marriage. We visited Abiquiu, New Mexico, and were captivated by its serene locale, flourishing artistic community, and natural beauty. Although it was not Texas, it was sufficiently close to our daughters to facilitate regular visits. By the end of 2015, we had procured a plot of land in Abiquiu and relocated temporarily to Ojo Caliente while we constructed our home and studio.
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The decision to relinquish the security of our home and family and start anew at our age was not without challenges. Residing in a small Casita without a studio necessitated considerable effort. The construction of our new home in New Mexico proved to be problematic, as is typical of all construction projects, and took us two years to complete. Finally, in 2017, we relocated to our new home. I was then tasked with establishing myself in New Mexico’s art community. It required a great deal of diligence, perseverance, and dedication to promote my name, but it has been an enriching experience. The encounter gave me renewed energy and made me acknowledge that it is always feasible to start afresh. I am now a part of a thriving artist community that is stimulating and invigorating.

We’d love to hear the story of how you built up your social media audience?

​As a late Baby Boomer, I find social media quite daunting, much like many of my contemporaries. However, with the assistance of my daughters, I have learned to utilize Facebook/Meta and Instagram. These platforms have allowed me to showcase my work, share pictures of my paintings and sculptures, and attract numerous clients. Additionally, I can publicize any upcoming solo or collective shows I will participate in.

My husband is very tech-savvy and helped me create my website using the Squarespace platform. To make my social media accounts eye-catching and easy to navigate, I had to learn Adobe Photoshop. This tool has been handy in converting my artwork photos into the correct format for uploading to different platforms. Additionally, I can design postcards, flyers, and other promotional materials for social media and printing purposes.

I am grateful to my daughters and husband for helping me navigate the world of social media as an artist. I advise other artists to take advantage of the accessible tools available to promote their work and not be afraid to use social media to their advantage.

Contact Information for Hebe
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• Website: www.hebegarcia.com
• Instagram: hebe_garcia_finearts
• Facebook: Hebe Garcia Benitez

What do you think it should be called?

We’re all coming down from the eclipse this week. Here, where I live, out of the path of totality, the clouds padded the view (and that eternal temptation to peek without glasses for just a split second; the sun used to get in my eyes while tracking Little League pop-ups and I’m not blind from that, right?). But the dogs and I still took a walk and experienced that eerie light, the unexpected chill.
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That light reminds me somewhat of the light on smoky forest-fire days. Which reminded me of this poem from the vault. Which reminds me that I have my next collection waiting for me to return to it 

This is the light of discovering
I actually do like peaches.
Of lithographic prints, '
of the inside of a paper lantern.

This is the light I imagine,
today, will frame the last
days of our world. So what
if I like it?

Hating it won't put out
the new wildfire, four hundred
acres since breakfast alone.
Feeling guilty for wonder

and delight won't put back
everything, everything,
everything that has just
gone up in smoke.

This poem has no title (yet) and it hasn’t shown me the right one (yet). What do you think it should be called?

Please feel free to share this public post with someone you think would appreciate it.
​Share

By Jessica Rath

​You probably know that Abiquiú used to be a Tewa settlement called Ávé-shú', meaning Chokecherry Path. So were Poshu-owingeh, the site 2.5 miles south of Abiquiú, and Tsi-p’in-owinge' near Cañones. In fact, traces of Tewa Pueblos can be found all throughout the Chama Valley. Some of these are access-restricted, like the Tsama Pueblo (Tsámaʔ ówîngeh, its Tewa name), an ancestral Tewa community along the Rio Chama.

​Landowners in the surrounding areas have donated parcels that were part of the Pueblo to the Archaeological Conservancy which owns and manages the site.  It is a non-profit organization which was created in 1980, with the mission to preserve, manage, and maintain archaeological sites which are part of our cultural heritage. Among the almost 600 archaeological preserves all across the United States which are maintained by the Conservancy are some preserves at Chaco Culture National Historical Park (the Conservancy has many Chacoan outlier sites in the Four Corners, but doesn’t manage the overall Historical Park),, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and – Tsama.
 
The current site stewards of the Tsama Pueblo are Greg Lewandowski and his wife Sharon, who moved here from Michigan  some twenty five years ago. They not only agreed to an interview, but also put me in touch with April Brown, the Conservancy’s Southwest Regional Director, and Mandy Woods, April’s assistant and Southwest Field Representative. They revealed some truly amazing facts about the site and its history. 

Greg and Sharon had a neighbor who moved away and who donated an 80-acres long parcel along with two other parcels (that each were around 20 or 30 acres)  to the Preserve. A few weeks back, April and Mandy came to visit the site, and they all went on an extensive tour.
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“They have magic eyes”, Greg told me. “I don't know what else to call it, but they can see things on the ground that to us look like things on the ground. And to them, they pick it up and all of a sudden it's this incredible piece with all this really amazing history to it. Sherds and glass and tools and areas where you can see the outline of buildings. These were adobe buildings, going back about 700 years. You can see the outline of the buildings, but we never noticed these things before. We would just walk around and pick up a few sherds, but our experience with April and Mandy was really amazing:  they could see these things and teach us what was going on there. So we'll continue to be the site stewards for the entire property.”

April continues: “There's a large village site there on that mesa, and there were between 1100 and 1400 rooms in the Pueblo”.

Incredible! When I heard this, I wondered whether Tsama wasn’t more than a village!
I was curious to know when these excavations had started.

Mandy told me that there were in fact three main excavations. The first one  happened between 1929 and 1934, undertaken by Robert Greenlee and HP Mera. Mera was the first person who actually mapped out the site, and  a lot of what is known geographically is attributed to this 1934 report. The next  major excavation at Tsama happened in 1970,  and the most recent one was in 2008, but it wasn’t so much a full excavation –  they were doing mapping methods: high resolution micro topographic instrument mapping.

Come again – they were doing WHAT?

“It's like a form of LiDAR (an acronym of “light direction and ranging”), it's used like LiDAR, where they would take variable layers of imaging to construct or deconstruct what the actual topography is”, Mandy explained.  “It can survey archaeological sites and facilitate exact mapping”.
 
 April added:  “This technology is one of the reasons that the conservancy preserves properties in the first place. We preserve these sites so that as technology advances, we can allow more research that's even less invasive. In the future, excavation won’t be happening as much in American archaeology, especially at Pueblo sites. Native Americans do not want us digging up their ancestors and their artifacts, but they don't mind us learning about them now. Some Pueblos are actively investigating their own ancestral sites right now; Ohkay Owingeh is one of those Pueblos. But a lot of Pueblos don't really want you digging around on their sites anymore. And we definitely have to consult them when we do these types of work”.

​So with this new technology, one can explore what is underneath the surface of the  earth without having to disturb it. And that's absolutely amazing.

“On top of it, we have all these collections which people have excavated from the 30s to the late 90s. And they probably haven’t been researched extensively. So to go back and look at the material culture – we can go back to these older collections, and students fill those in and learn more about them. We don't need to really dig up more artifacts to understand what was there”, April continued.
 
 This makes a lot of sense because what one would find now is  similar to what has already been found. There is no need to dig places  up and disturb sites that are sacred.

​I was curious: How is the site being protected?  The Conservancy would like to close off the property to prevent ATVs and other vehicles from damaging the area, I learned.

“The neighbors are our best defense sometimes when we have sites like this”, Mandy explains, “because they're not only protective of their own land, but they also know the importance of the site. It benefits us when sites are in a residential area, even as remote as this one. You have neighbors who help out, who pay attention and look out for the site and they stay in contact.”

 Can you see how people lived at the time and what they did, I wanted to know.
April explained that yes, one can, because pottery is definitely diagnostic.  “It gives us a lot of information about when the pottery was made  and what kind of material it was made with.  We can pin down a timeframe based on the type of pottery. That's why it's so important that people don’t collect pottery shards. It may seem like, ‘Oh, this is just on the ground, nobody will miss it’. But it still has a lot of information, and, once you've removed it from a place, it loses its context. Every sherd that's picked up by somebody is one less shard that's going to tell us something about the site”.

Mandy added that they know from the work that was done in the seventies that people in Tsama were holding turkeys. They found  fragments and turkey bones. “They had an indoor turkey pen where they were holding the birds. We also know that they had craft groups. There was one group that was very specific with the manufacture and painting of arrows. Another one was dedicated to making pendants and necklaces and jewelry. We can imagine how these people lived here. They thrived here, they had ceremonies. Taking any of those artifacts removes not just the context, it removes any potential for learning. It removes the story. Every single piece on that property has a piece of history with its own story. And when it's removed you don't know anymore what that story is”.
 
This can’t be stressed enough. Picking up a sherd has repercussions that people don't think about. It seems so innocuous – one finds all these broken pieces, there can’t be any harm in bending down and taking one home. But this is a myopic view. Every piece of pottery is there for a reason, and if I remove it, I poke a hole in the intricate fabric that once was a settlement where people lived for many generations. It’s like picking words out of a book – eventually, it loses its meaning and becomes unreadable. April and Mandy made this very clear.
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I asked about the Pueblo people’s food: what did they eat? What grains and vegetables? Is anything known about this?
“They were definitely growing corn, squash, and beans  –  the “three sisters”, April explained.  “And we’re  assuming that they were hunting, besides raising their domestic turkeys”.

 Greg shared an interesting observation: “When we were walking there they were finding pieces that were from other Pueblos, that were not native to this area. It indicated that they traded with other Pueblos in the area”.

“Absolutely,” April agreed.  “They were trading all the way down to the Galisteo Basin. We were finding glazes from the Galisteo Pueblos which means they were traveling up and down and trading with one another. We find biscuit ware and pottery from other sites too. So we know that they were trading in different areas”.

“All the Pueblos were trading amongst each other. You'll find, for example, that  they were getting their obsidian from the Jemez Mountains.  So, the Pueblos here were probably gathering the obsidian and trading it. And then you had the Galisteo Basin down there where they were mining turquoise, and they were known for their turquoise production. They were definitely trading turquoise, and you'll find Cerrillos Hills turquoise all up and down the Rio Grande”.

“They were also mining  volcanic rock such as basalt for certain things”, Mandy added. “And then there is the Pedernal chert (flint stone), an extremely hard mineral that they would use to make lithics. They would use it for expedient tools and the hammerstones”. 

I had one more question: how did this end? Why did they move away and abandon the Pueblo?  Was there a famine, or did the Spaniards drive them away?
​
“They left before the Spaniards came”, April told me.  “I don't think anyone really truly knows what happened.  There is some speculation that there might have been some fighting going on amongst the Pueblo people or between some of the nomadic tribes like the Apache, Comanche, or Navajos. Maybe they were fighting with each other so they all left. They lived in all these small Pueblos up and down the Rio Chama, and I think they all abandoned those smaller Pueblos and moved into a larger Pueblo, probably somewhere near Ohkay Owingeh”.

Mandy had additional information.  “In one of the earlier reports I read  that at one point, I think in the 1300s or 1400s, there were about 40 variable Pueblos up and down the valley. But by Oñate's 1602 census, there were only six Pueblos that remained. There was a lot less migratory emigration, and a lot more people were coming to these larger Pueblo communities versus settling in smaller ones”.

“There could have been a drought, and maybe they were pooling their resources together for survival purposes”, April speculated.  “It could have been a mixture of many different reasons, really. There's probably not one overarching reason why they all decided to abandon and I'm sure it didn't happen exactly all at the same time, either. It probably happened over 100 years or 200 years or something like that”.

Well, by now you may be dying to visit Tsama; I know I am, because this sounds so absolutely fascinating. However, as mentioned earlier, the Pueblo is not open to the public. If you are interested in seeing the site, please email April Brown (swdirector.tac@gmail.com) and/or  Mandy Woods (swfieldrep.tac@gmail.com)  and arrange to meet them. When they visited over the last few months, they have been developing a guided tour and kindly offer to show you around. With many thanks to Greg and Sharon for making this captivating conversation possible, and to April and Mandy, of course – I always find it inspiring to talk with individuals who are passionate about what they’re doing.  

By BD Bondy
 
Carol and I were driving through Espanola the other day and I saw a giant pickup truck with big wheels, very high clearance, and a snorkel. I was a bit enamored. Then I saw a sticker on the back window, Survivalist.

This conjured up some depressing thoughts for me, Walking Dead, climate change, end of days, nuclear bombs, and civil war.

Then I thought, well, I’m also a survivalist. Only, I want EVERYONE to survive. I got solar panels, drive a plug-in hybrid car with almost no emissions, preach peace, and hate guns. I’m rooting for all mankind to get along and help one another.

As far as I can tell, it’s not having much effect on the world, but it’s still a cause worth ‘fighting’ for, or at least discussing.

My mom asked me a couple years ago if I thought there would be a civil war in this country. I said I didn’t think so. That seemed more of a media, especially social media, false story, meant to promote the idea.

These days it can be difficult to know the facts, so I tend to stick with big name news outlets that actually pay journalists to do investigative reporting. There are plenty of sources out there that call themselves news agencies and have no actual journalists.

Sometimes it can be difficult to discern the difference, especially when the article agrees with your thinking or supports what you already believe. My mom may have had the best solution, and that was to not read or watch ANY news. When everyone is screaming at you, it gets hard to hear anything.

Ultimately, it’s best for me to try and think for myself, and double or triple check an article that seems suspect. And I’m suspicious of most articles.