Jeanette Walls is a writer I’d aspire to be, if that’s how it worked and ink could be conjured. In Half Broke Horses she spins the story of her grandmother, Lily Casey, in a series of episodes that sing like old cowboy songs. “Mustang breaker, schoolteacher, ranch wife, bootlegger, poker player, racehorse rider, bush pilot and mother of two,” Casey made me want to be stronger, laugh louder and learn to fly. Maslin’s review in the New York Times took a typical “lacey pants” slant to the aphorisms and expressions such as “you’re really frying my bacon”, describing the style as “pert…repetitive and grating”. In my mind, Walls’s form and language spoke to the style of storytelling in the West, to her characters and their humdrum, wild, bootstraps lives. Liesl Schillinger’s review, while more of a recap than a critique, ended by describing Walls as “the third generation of a line of indomnitable women whose paths she has inscribed on the permanent record, enriching the common legend of our American past.” Legend has its own tenor, and Walls has hit it beautifully.

Illustration by Shannon Freshwater; image from Half Broke Horses.

At the museum, I was mesmerized by these bright cuff bracelets that were for sale in the store. But Teri’s larger work is far more extraordinary. All I could think when I saw these high-heel bright pink high top tennis shoes depicting girls in ceremonial costumes and girls shooting hoops, Rezpride and Rezgirlz side by side, was “No way!” I’m always in awe of the artist intelligent and graceful enough to meld beauty and power with a sense of lightness. I also love her beaded book “Indian Couture: A Book of Dance and Dress” for its detail of design and movement, the thoughtfulness of all the gorgeous warriors in her “Prayer Blanket” and the truly very funny piece “NDN ART”. But if I could have a piece of Teri’s in my own collection, it would definitely be a pair of beaded sneakers. I can’t imagine anything more fun than a sparkly work of art to walk around in, making people smile.

Photo courtesy of Jane Sauer Gallery, Santa Fe, NM. Check out more of Teri’s work there, or at the Heard Museum in Phoenix, AZ.

Tomatillo Salsa
8 ounces tomatillos, husked
2 serrano chiles, quartered lengthwise (cocktail jalapenos from a jar work, too!)
½ small white onion, sliced
5 cilantro springs
Salt

Put the tomatillos in a saucepan with water to cover. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer until they’re dull green, about 10 minutes. Drain. Puree in a blender with the chiles, onion, cilantro, and about ¼ teaspoon salt.

In Seattle, several of our neighborhood bars have chosen taxidermy as the cool du jour. Animal heads watch over hipsters eating (very sustainably-raised beef) burgers and drinking micro brew or Rainier Beer from the can. But the Days Inn in the Thermopolis, Wyoming, outdoes them all. Their Safari Club restaurant is thick with trophy heads (and some very big fish) from around the world. Hundreds of photographs line the walls, taking you back to the days of Roosevelt and Hemingway when men wrestled with large animals from the wilds of Africa to the mountains of Montana wearing short shorts, carrying big guns and documenting it all. If you’re anywhere in the area, I highly recommend a visit. (And if you’re not going to go for the chicken fried steak, the shrimp alfredo is excellent.)

If you’re as lucky as my brother’s friend Doug, you might inherit some taxidermy from your great uncle. (Below, Doug teaches his great-uncle’s deer about the Constitution.) For city dwellers with modern homes (or anyone who likes the animal but not the taxidermy part) you can create your own trophy wall with bison, buck, moose or rhino made out of cardboard. If I hunted, as our friend Raven does, to keep our house in elk meat for the winter, I would hang the racks on our trees, as he does, strung up with lights as a greeting, an honor, a reminder.

Louise Erdrich, author of “The Plague of Doves,” “The Beet Queen,” “Tracks” and “The Bingo Palace,” was honored with the emeritus award during a banquet at Montana State University.

Erdrich’s “Love Medicine” is the topic of the Big Read discussions, workshops and other activities recently launched in Billings.

Her Chippewa heritage and experiences on American Indian reservations are reflected in her writing about Indian and non-Indian customs, values and habits.

The book awards were established by Parmly Billings Library trustees and recognize regional writers or literary works examining and reflecting life on the High Plains.

New this year was an award for best poetry book, which went to Craig Arnold’s “Made Flesh.” A professor at the University of Wyoming, Arnold is presumed dead after he went missing on a solo trek in Japan.

The award for best first book went to Margot Kahn for “Horses That Buck,” while “In Contemporary Rhythm: The Art of Ernest L. Blumenschein, Peter H. Hassrick and Elizabeth J. Cunningham,” won for best nonfiction.

Leif Enger’s “So Brave, Young and Handsom” received honors for best fiction.

Montana resident Jennifer Graf Broneberg received the Zonta Award for best woman writer for “Road Map to Holland,” which was inspired by her son’s experiences with Down symdrome.

Nominations for 2010 awards will be accepted starting Jan. 1, with a March deadline for submissions.

By CHRIS RUBICH Of The Billings Gazette / Friday, October 2, 2009
For the full article, click here.

These photographs were taken on my drive this week, from Seattle to Missoula, Thermopolis, Red Lodge and back. Thanks to Linda and Raven, John and Kari, Carole and Bill and the Carbon County Historical Society for the good cheer and good times.

Photos by Margot Kahn

Colt, Thermopolis WY

Cows, Thermopolis WY

Storm Brewing, Butte MT

Cows and Calves, Butte MT

At the Truck Stop Cafe, Livingston MT

Mares, Thermopolis WY

Across the River, Thermopolis WY

Road to the Ranch, Thermopolis WY

Looking North on Route 78, Red Lodge MT

Looking West on Route 78, Red Lodge MT

If voices are like weather, The Maldives sing late fall—cool with warm undertones, firing up and settling into winter. They make me long for a good dirt road, or an empty state highway in October when you can drive with the window open and smell snow in the air. I love this band so much that I’ll stay up past midnight packed tight in a boot-clad, PBR-drinking crowd at the Tractor Tavern just to hear them live. For the song “By the Wind Sailor” a live show is the only way to go: at the end of the song, the crowd sings and claps along with the band, fast and loud. It’s a good time to jump up and down if there’s room, and especially if there’s no room and everyone else is jumping up and down around you. It’s a reminder that not enough people have sing-alongs, that we don’t sing and clap enough in general, and that cowboy boots are not really made for jumping. If you’re reading this, major music executive: please, sign these guys to a big label contract, spring them from their video store day jobs, and get them on the road where they belong.

Photo by Kyle Johnson