Hindsight

The doe and her fawn were standing frozen in our back yard by the headlights of our car as we pulled into our driveway from a long day on the Rez. In front of them was a fat rabbit, also caught immobile by our lights. We sat watching for some seconds when the doe casually walked off, followed by her doe, tailed by the rabbit.

It was a fitting end to a fascinating, educational day doing a lengthy interview on KILI radio station located on Pine Ridge reservation.

For several days I had panicked over a TV interview last Sunday. Looking back, all the stress was for naught. The reporter did the best she could after an hour of interviewing, condensing everything into her one minute and 25 seconds of allotted time. She focused on one point, but even then I received many emails and several phone calls commenting on that brief segment.

"You will save the VA single-handed with your book", was one response.

I really doubt that, but the caller's comment was much appreciated. Our time is limited and we need to have an impact on the powers that be in Washington to save our very special VA and other benefits for all of our veterans.

The following day, Veteran's Day, two of the veterans from my book, RJ and Sylsvester, my husband and I drove to KILI radio on Pine Ridge. Sylvester had driven with his wife from Rosebud. The entire experience at the station was casual,hilarious and welcoming, all at the same time.

Our interview was scheduled for 1:00 that day. The previous guests, scheduled for noon, arrived late. The host, Tom Casey and I were visiting, when he looked up at the clock and casually announced that he had to go teach a class at the college and I would have to conduct the interview by myself.

"After all, you do interviews, don't you? You interviewed all of the veterans, including the two who came with you."

"No way", I responded. "When do you get back from teaching?"

"I will be back about 4:00, but what will you do until then?"

Well, all of us went to lunch at an intimate restaurant about 15 miles away, probably the closest available place. It was located with a motel in the center of the reservation. Who would ever come to this remote location for rooms or food? It turns out there were some ranchers and some residents from the reservation who had stopped in on this bitterly cold day. Everyone who came in knew the veterans that had come with me for the interview. One of them, RJ, had taught and been a principal on Pine Ridge for many years, and the other, Sylvester, was a Lakota from the Rosebud Reservation, three hours to the north.

After lunch we all travelled back to the radio station and waited another 20 minutes or so until the host returned from teaching. We had some great conversation time with a DJ who was manning the station and with one another, including the wife of one of the veterans. It was all worth the wait. When Tom returned he interviewed each of us for an hour and a half, bringing out the best in the former principal and Vietnam veteran and the Lakota Vietnam veteran from the Rosebud reservation.

He also had me at ease, enjoying his skills as an interviewer. I was bursting in pride for my two veterans who so willingly gave of their time to once again support the Hot Springs VA. RJ remembered to thank all of the women...mothers, wives, children, grandparents of the veterans who had "put up with us on our return from the service."

Sylvester ended the hour with words in Lakota to all of the listeners. I don't know what he said, but his voice was filled with sincerity and I heard the words "Hot Springs VA" several times.

Looking back, both of these interviews were nothing to fear. In fact, they were thoroughly enjoyed, and I learned a great deal. What more can anyone ask?

Panic Time

"You have one minute and 25 seconds of air time", I was told by the TV person in charge of my interview. "You may bring one veteran with you and you can have 6 seconds to read from his chapter. The reporter doing the interview is inexperienced so please be concise and make only a few points".

Well, I'll be.....What was the old expression?...a monkey's uncle, as I remember.

I am comfortable doing a radio interview. I have two coming up this month. One gives me 60 minutes and I may bring as many veterans as I wish. The other is 50 minutes. During these two interviews I have time to discuss the book, Reveille in Hot Springs, and bring up many pertinent issues.

TV is another matter! I have never done this type of interview. How am I going to promote the book, as well as bring up the crucial issues, read a passage, and allow time for the one veteran that will be interviewed with me? If I had at least 20 minutes I might be able to manage all of that.

I admit, I had a sleepless night. What to say, what to do in order to give the audience some ideas of the importance of this issue to all of our veterans present and future?

The book tells the stories of veterans from WWII through Afghanistan, from all branches of service, who have served their country, given up three or four years, or more of their lives to the military, and who were promised health care for life, much as our politicians who have also served. Now those promises are being whittled away...one by one, with the ultimate goal, it appears, to privatize all health care for veterans. In this process the VA will not cover medical issues unless they are directly service related. We know that many veterans need increasing medical care as they age...the same as all of our retired politicians. Many of these veterans cannot afford private insurance and do not know what they will do.

To add insult to injury, veterans are being shifted away from VA facilities..."outsourced" is the term...to be treated by medical professionals untrained to recognize PTSD, Agent Orange, toxic poisoning and all of the accompanying emotional issues facing our veterans.

Veterans suffering from combat trauma do not heal well in larger cities, surrounded by triggers to send them back into their addictions. The VA in Washington is focusing on closing the peaceful, rural VA facilities that are more condusive in the healing of veterans and helping them regain their places in society. The veterans have told me that they are treated like a number in the huge VA hospitals. In our VA they are treated as a veteran and a person.

I could go on and on, but I have one minute and 25 seconds to share the plight of our veterans with viewers who do not know. They need to know. Washington needs to know.

Now my job is to focus on the most important point in the time alloted. I was hoping if I wrote down these thoughts it would help my concentration, but there is more to share and in looking back I know that I have passed my time limit. I have until tomorrow to decide how to narrow down the meat of my book and the struggle of our veterans. Many have fought before and now they are fighting again...this time for their benefits and the benefits of future veterans. This book is their story and their struggle. They want the country to hear them. They want you and all of the citizens of this country to speak out for them. They deserve nothing less.

A Veteran Understatement

We were in a gathering at the American Legion. One of the veterans I had interviewed announced the following:

"I was visiting my mother in Aberdeen. She brought out a copy of South Dakota Magazine and pointed to the article about Hot Springs. It was the review of the book, Reveille in Hot Springs. I told her that my story was in the book. She was surprised because she didn't know that. I guess I'd better send her a copy of the book."

Cheers for the Hot Springs VA

She looked up at me expectantly - golden tail wagging furiously. She jumped and jumped, ever so eager for attention and her walk. Her name is Amber and she is the "neighborhood dog". If readers recall, Amber's owner has been to the VA hospitals in Hot Springs and Minneapolis, and several of us neighbors are taking turns walking his dog. This is what we do for our veterans in Hot Springs.

The owner's friend was in the yard raking leaves and the newest neighbor, who has not moved in as yet, dropped over for a chat. It turns out that he, too, is a veteran - twenty years in the Marine Corps. It appears that we are a neighborhood of veterans, with the exception of my husband and me, who have been working since 2011 with the Save our VA group in Hot Springs. We are truly a town of veterans and those who care about our veterans.

Amber's owner had been rushed to our VA and then had to be transferred to the VA in Minnesota. Because of the cuts that have been made to our VA over the years, he could no longer receive the necessary treatment here in town. What I heard today was, "In spite of all of the cuts that have been made to our VA, the quality of care has never been better. Bill has received excellent care."

The staff and programs have been cut, but those staff remaining are dedicated, as always, to giving the best possible care to our veterans. Kudos to them for the quality of care they provide at our VA. Our veterans deserve nothing less, and at the Hot Springs VA they are receiving the best that can be given.

After a brief visit Bob and I took Amber on her outing, trying to wear her out before returning her to her family. She is hyper and difficult for me to handle, but it is even more difficult to walk by her in her kennel and ignore her pleas for love, attention and a good run. And, after all, her owner is a veteran.

Wet, Cold and Wind

It had been a good year for the ranchers.
The rains had doused the drought,
The hay crop was good
The gas prices were lower, cattle prices higher.

This was going to be the year to make some money,
Money to tide them over during the down years,
Money to invest in their ranch and herd.
Things were looking good.

The early storm came with all its fury.
It came before the cattle grew their winter coats.
It bore down before the income cattle had been sent to the stock yards for the year.
It swept in before the rest of the herd were in the winter pastures.

It was wet, followed by cold, and then the wind.
The wind was relentless, suffocating cattle in the wet snow,
Blinding those who wandered far from the pasture,
Killing many from exposure.

The ranchers were helpless. They could only wait it out.
After it was over they rode their pastures, trying to save cattle that survived.
Some were too sick to make it.
The rest had to be buried.

They buried them by the hundreds,
As the snow melted they found more bodies,
Mothers lying next to their calves,

Trying to protect them the best they could.

Now ranchers are a hardy bunch.
They have to be. Ranching is a tough business.
They build a herd over the years
Only to watch helplessly as they lose them one by one.

The next time you enjoy a steak or burger,
Think for a brief minute of our South Dakota ranchers.
They love the land, they care for their herds.
They will never forget the October storm of 2013.

Fly Over Zone Even During Disaster

Thousands of cattle are dead and more are dying. The early wet and windy snow storm caught everyone off guard. We all knew that it was coming, but for many ranchers it was too late to move their herds to winter pastures. That is a process that takes days and weeks. Also the cattle did not yet have their winter coats to protect them from the strong winds and extremely wet snow. Some herds in their winter pastures still met the same fate, suffocating in the blowing drifts or dying from exposure or pneumonia in their light summer coats. Difficult as it is to believe, even some of the hardy bison fell to the fury of this early storm.

Some ranchers lost most of the herds they had nurtured and developed for years while others lost a fourth or more.  How can they recover? Insurance can not make up such extreme losses. Prized bulls carefully bred to grow the herds perished along with champion horses. South Dakota ranchers are devastated, emotionally, physically and financially. Ranching is the number one industry in our state and this storm came after years of drought that brought the industry to almost a breaking point. The loss of these cattle that were getting ready to be shipped after the first decent year of rain and abundant hay, cannot be measured. How can you measure the complete loss of a lifetime, or several generations, in terms of money? How can you begin to realize the grief of a rancher who lost most of his cattle in the prime of their calving years? Who can balance the tipping point in terms of money, loans, time or years of uncertainty with drought and high diesel prices?

There were numerous cattle, ready to be shipped, that died in the stock yards. They were trapped, as I imagine many of our ranchers feel. It is well-known that ranchers are a hardy stock of people. They have had to be, living with storms, drought and fluctuating cattle prices. But I am so afraid that for some this may be the last straw. Now many of the large corporations have an opportunity to swoop in and take over the land that has been owned for many generations by individual families who loved the land and their herds.

To top it all off, the national media gave only a glancing nod to this story. I realize that we are "the fly over zone" and are largely ignored. That is one of the attractions of the area. We love the lack of notoriety and sensationalism and high drama of the two coasts. We cherish the smaller population, clean air, water and low traffic and crime. But for the nation to ignore the plight of our ranchers and their heartbreaking stories seems appalling. South Dakota may be less in numbers, but we provide much of the nation with its low-cost meat, raised by our ranchers who care about the quality of their beef and the integrity of their land. These ranchers and we local residents who enjoy seeing the tractors, cattle and bulging hay trucks rumble through our down-town main streets, do not want to lose this way of life.

We felt the spirit of the area when we first moved here. We were entering the lobby of a local bank to open an account when a rancher- stained cowboy hat, jeans and well-worn boots - had sauntered past us from the bank on his way to his truck. One of the tellers in high heels and dainty dress was mopping the floor. The smell of hay and cattle dung still clung in the air. As she sprayed the lobby she replied cheerily, "Just one of our services".

Hello, out there, you national media! There are wonderful stories to share with the world from those who supply you with your steaks and hamburger. There has been one source of thorough and heartfelt coverage that I have seen by an on-line news magazine. It will be well worth your time to check it out.

Visit  www.RealAmericanCowboyMagazine.com
"The Perfect Storm - Hell Strikes South Dakota" October 10
by Hope Sickler

We may be low in numbers but we represent the heart of America. Some say we are the "real Americans", not those portrayed by the movies. Whatever we are, our ranchers are hurting. We all know it. If only the rest of the world would understand. But, as I hear from friends from other states, they only heard a "small bit" on their news. That small bit is huge to us in America's heartland.

The Neighborhood Dog

It all began a few months ago. We saw the ambulance stop at our neighbor's house. They were new to our neighborhood and I moaned to my husband, "I never got over to greet the new folks and now one of them is being taken by ambulance. Why didn't I get over sooner with a pot of chili and a welcome? Now we may never meet whoever left in the ambulance and the woman who followed in her car."

They lived two doors down from us. Eric, the neighbor in between, told me that the guy was a veteran and the ambulance brought him to our VA. I fretted about the dog I had passed in the kennel behind their house on my way to the store. She would bark and snarl even when I tried to talk with her in a "doggy voice."

Now the dog was not the least bit friendly, but I worried that she was left alone in her kennel during the emergency. Eric told me that someone was feeding and watering the dog, but that was it. The caretaker asked Eric if he would walk the dog. Eric spent several days making friends with the dog. He brought her treats but was concerned about her temperament and docility if she were taken from her kennel.

One day Eric appeared at our front door with the leashed dog. Her name was Amber. Her coat was golden and she had brown eyes in a face that now looked sweet and friendly. Her tail wagged furiously, and off we went for a walk.

Amber is now a community dog. Some days Eric walks her and at other times my husband and I take her out. Each time we pass her in the alley she wags her tail, whines and jumps up and down with delight. She even recognizes our car when I drive by, roll down the window and spend a few minutes chatting with her.

She is so eager to go for a walk, but not having been obedience-trained, will tug at the leash. I struggle with bad-back issues, so when I take her by myself, I go to a park, take her into an enclosed baseball diamond and throw a ball until she is tired out. No matter how long she gets to run, she whines and jumps up and down when I bring her back to her kennel. It isn't easy to leave her for another day.

Eric brought her a dog house and sleeping bag in anticipation of colder weather. He has a kind heart.

Whey do we do what we do? Well, I, for one, cannot stand to walk past a lonely dog and ignore her pleas. But another reason is that the owner is a veteran. Since all of the government closures at our VA he had to go to Minneapolis for treatment no longer offered here and will be heading to another VA in Omaha for surgery that was once offered at our VA. His partner spends many hours on the road to be with him in Minnesota and still keep her job in Hot Springs.

Amber belongs to a veteran who once served his country. His benefits are being drained away, but his dog shouldn't have to suffer because of a stupid bureaucracy far from the front lines of veterans needing health care. This same government should not turn a blind eye. The officials will have superb health care for their lifetimes. Our veterans deserve no less.

Meanwhile, Amber will get her walks and a lot of loving while her owner is at a VA hospital far away.