Tsé Biiʼ Ndzisgaii (Monument Valley, Navajo Nation) December 28, 2010.
The view is from Goulding’s Lodge, the guest-ranch and hotel film director John Ford used as his base-camp in filming many of his westerns. Famous for its spectacular chessboard of tall sandstone buttes, it became synonymous with the cinematic west. Left to right: Brigham’s Tomb, King-in-his-Throne, Stagecoach, and Bear-and-Rabbit. Needless to say the locals have other names for these formations.

Saturday December 25, 2010. We awoke in our motel in (Little) Manhattan Kansas, after having celebrated Christmas with Kathie’s brother Mark and his son Sean the night before. Mark had reported for duty on Christmas at Fort Riley too early for all of us to meet again for breakfast. As a top sergeant, the idea of being the highest-ranking fighting man on base seemed to amuse him. He honored the event by showing up for work in his dress blues. Sean was asleep when we called and preferred slumber to a hot breakfast at iHop, the only restaurant in town that was open.
As I walked up to the car rental desk at Kansas City airport, the attendant asked what flight we had booked. Looking it up, he calmly informed us that due to a blizzard, nothing was flying in or out of any of the New York City airports. I asked if he could find out how long it would be to get out of town. Placing another call, he informed us that it would be five or six days before we could get seats on another flight; maybe Thursday or Friday. He also informed us that a massive winter storm was brewing on the Pacific coast. There had been snowfall in Los Angeles.
I asked him what the price would be for us to keep the car, drive east and drop off at Newark, where our car was parked. Sticker shock made me call the hotel where we had stayed in the Country Club district, only to find was booked solid for the entire week, full up with travelers stranded in the Paris of the Plains. Kathie looked at me and asked
“How far is it from here to Monument Valley?”
Trying to compose a quick, coherent answer, calculating the distance, potential obstacles, delays and the challenges of getting back to KC in time to catch our return flight, I started walking for the door and replied. “No worries. Let’s go.”
The tale of our road-trip will be unpacked in future dispatches. Today I want to invite fellow travelers to devote your attention to the plight of the Diné and Hopi communities during the COVID19 pandemic. The Navajo Nation is the largest indigenous territory in the country. Its territory encompasses lands occupied by the Puebloan Hopi tribe. These culturally rich economically-challenged communities have been hard hit by the Corona virus, with soaring infection and mortality rates.
Non-Natives may feel no connection to these communities, and thus no obligation to help them. This land was theirs for thousands of years before earlier pandemics wiped out ninety-percent of their numbers after their first contact with Europeans. Look at it this way. We are their guests. They are our hosts, our neighbors and friends. As human beings, we are all of one family. Please help. Please contribute.