WannaskaWriter

   Whoever came up with the idea of flushing fallopian tubes with poppy seed oil? Was it a bunch of forklift drivers in a toy factory in NW Minnesota? Perhaps a woman in a John Deere 4x4 tractor pulling a field roller across a section of sandy loam near Crookston? Or maybe a cook basting walleye filets with lemon juice at the Oak Island Resort on the Lake of the Woods? Whoever it was who paused to contemplate fallopian tubes and poppyseed oil in the same sentence, in presumably deep thought about fertilization, begs consideration. I mean, of all the things I heard on MPR that Wednesday, May 18th, 2017, including Trumps Tweets, Mueller’s new assignment, independent prosecutors, MPR’s member drive and reasons to contribute toward their fine programming, it wasn’t until after 2:00 PM CST that BBC initiated this conversation about flushing fallopian tubes with poppy seed oil that really captured my imagination.    “Why not olive oil?” I thought to myself, steering my car into a parking sp

This emptiness I sense in the Dakotas may not be the loss of habitation by Native,  it is the vacuum left by the migration of hundreds of thousands of emigrants crossing the Great Plains toward Oregon, Utah, and Idaho.

Reading “Black like Me” should’ve been required reading in junior and senior high schools and college classes across the nation in the late 1960s and onward. It’s reading and discussion should have been an on-going conversation and call to action initiated in the present and practiced from one generation to the , strictly as a bible teaching.