Big Changes
02/09/23 00:07
I suppose that the place we call Montana has always known major upheaval and change. It once was part of a huge inland sea, but about 285 million years ago the Rocky Mountains began to rise with seismic and volcanic activity that forever changed the shape of the land. About 65 million years ago some cataclysmic event, perhaps the earth being hit by a very large asteroid, precipitated the end of the age of dinosaurs. 100,000 years ago the cooling of this part of the planet started a huge ice age that lasted for 75,000 years or so. This entire area was covered by ice and when it finally melted, a huge ice dam backed up water over much of western Montana and the surrounding territories. When that ice dam let loose the resulting flood carved the land from Eastern Washington to the Pacific, filling the Columbia and carving its course.
The changes haven’t stopped.
From an indigenous people’s perspective, a cataclysmic event occurred over the winter of 1800-1801, when a pair of French fur trappers and traders spent the winter. Befriended by the tribes, it was impossible for those who lived in the region and lived as hunter-gatherers to know how much their lives were about to change. In the summers of 1805 and 1806 the Corps of Discovery crossed Montana, first heading west and then heading east. Their contact with indigenous people was minimal, but they would never have been able to make the trip had it not been for Sacajawea, a Shoshone woman who had been taken slave by the Hidatsa and was purchased from them by a member of the Corps. She guided them and eventually met up with her brother who helped the expedition obtain horses to cross the mountains and make it to the Pacific. Still, it probably didn’t seem like the arrival of a few Europeans who traveled through the area was an indication of what was to follow. Eventually the buffalo were hunted to near extinction, the tribes were forced to live on reservations, their land taken from them. Herders and settlers followed and they fenced the land and divided it up among themselves. The Homestead Act took land that once had been traditional hunting and ceremonial grounds and turned it into private ownership. The railroads came and were given huge tracts of land by the federal government. Roads and highways followed. Indigenous children were shuttled off to boarding schools where their language and spiritual practices were banned. The near genocide by the army was accompanied by cultural genocide by a variety of groups and agencies, some of which claimed to be there for the benefit of the people of the tribes.
Most of those things happened before the arrival of my relatives, who first came to Montana by steamship to participate in the founding of churches and the forming of government. I was born as the fourth generation of my mother’s people in Montana. My father came from North Dakota to Montana as a young adult. Although I was born in Montana, I can hardly call myself indigenous. My relatives all have European heritage.
And I didn’t stay in Montana long. Shortly after my 21st birthday, I went away to Chicago to pursue my education. It turned out that I never moved back. I’ve lived in North Dakota, Idaho, South Dakota and now Washington as an adult. So I don’t even know if I can claim the designation, Montanan.
What I do know, however, is that there have been some enormous changes in this state in the span of my lifetime. The place where I was born and grew up is a thing of the past. New people have come, big changes have occurred and it isn’t the way it used to be.
Yesterday I paddled on Cooney Reservoir. Cooney Dam was built in the 1930s in the middle of a sagebrush area that was mostly cattle pasture. There were no paved roads that reached it until the 1980s. A few locals knew about it and they would take their boats there for fishing and water play on weekends, but the lake was usually abandoned during the week. The first thing I noticed when I arrived that it now is surrounded by dozens of cabins. They aren’t right on the shore, as the entire shore is a State Park, but just outside the park boundaries, the pastureland has become cabin space. There is so much of that all around Montana. Building after building is constructed what once was agricultural land. Sometimes they are spaced on 5 or 10 acre plots. Sometimes they are packed much closer together. I don’t know what percentage of these are second (or third or fourth) homes for the owners, but a large number of these buildings certainly appear to not be primary residences. Many are located in places that are hard to reach in winter except by snowmobile. Others are too far from places of employment to make them practical for working people. I am aware that there are more people who are able to work remotely, but that kind of work requires good phone service and high speed Internet, which I don’t believe are that common in the area yet. I’m sure that there will be a demand for such services. It seems strange to me that the cities in Montana, like cities in other parts of the country, have many homeless people while there are others who have multiple homes. The affluence of the wealthy have driven up the price of homes so that it is even more difficult for those without decent housing to obtain a place to live.
I paddled for an hour or so, sharing the lake with a couple of fishing boats. When the jet skis started to arrive, I took my leave of the place. I could tell what the rest of the day would be like. I’m pretty sure the fishing wasn’t any good by noon.
Perhaps we are experiencing another big upheaval. The land that once was home to dinosaurs became home to buffalo and then home to cattle and now home to tourists and the leisurely class.
While the changes seem out of place to me, I am in no position to judge. I didn’t stay in Montana. I shouldn’t expect it to stay the same for my occasional visits. The land that our family once owned now has all been sold to others who hold title and have the right to do with that land what they choose.
Still, there is a bit of nostalgia and a bit of grief for me when I return to a familiar place that is no longer familiar. Time and change continue and the future is not mine to hold.
The changes haven’t stopped.
From an indigenous people’s perspective, a cataclysmic event occurred over the winter of 1800-1801, when a pair of French fur trappers and traders spent the winter. Befriended by the tribes, it was impossible for those who lived in the region and lived as hunter-gatherers to know how much their lives were about to change. In the summers of 1805 and 1806 the Corps of Discovery crossed Montana, first heading west and then heading east. Their contact with indigenous people was minimal, but they would never have been able to make the trip had it not been for Sacajawea, a Shoshone woman who had been taken slave by the Hidatsa and was purchased from them by a member of the Corps. She guided them and eventually met up with her brother who helped the expedition obtain horses to cross the mountains and make it to the Pacific. Still, it probably didn’t seem like the arrival of a few Europeans who traveled through the area was an indication of what was to follow. Eventually the buffalo were hunted to near extinction, the tribes were forced to live on reservations, their land taken from them. Herders and settlers followed and they fenced the land and divided it up among themselves. The Homestead Act took land that once had been traditional hunting and ceremonial grounds and turned it into private ownership. The railroads came and were given huge tracts of land by the federal government. Roads and highways followed. Indigenous children were shuttled off to boarding schools where their language and spiritual practices were banned. The near genocide by the army was accompanied by cultural genocide by a variety of groups and agencies, some of which claimed to be there for the benefit of the people of the tribes.
Most of those things happened before the arrival of my relatives, who first came to Montana by steamship to participate in the founding of churches and the forming of government. I was born as the fourth generation of my mother’s people in Montana. My father came from North Dakota to Montana as a young adult. Although I was born in Montana, I can hardly call myself indigenous. My relatives all have European heritage.
And I didn’t stay in Montana long. Shortly after my 21st birthday, I went away to Chicago to pursue my education. It turned out that I never moved back. I’ve lived in North Dakota, Idaho, South Dakota and now Washington as an adult. So I don’t even know if I can claim the designation, Montanan.
What I do know, however, is that there have been some enormous changes in this state in the span of my lifetime. The place where I was born and grew up is a thing of the past. New people have come, big changes have occurred and it isn’t the way it used to be.
Yesterday I paddled on Cooney Reservoir. Cooney Dam was built in the 1930s in the middle of a sagebrush area that was mostly cattle pasture. There were no paved roads that reached it until the 1980s. A few locals knew about it and they would take their boats there for fishing and water play on weekends, but the lake was usually abandoned during the week. The first thing I noticed when I arrived that it now is surrounded by dozens of cabins. They aren’t right on the shore, as the entire shore is a State Park, but just outside the park boundaries, the pastureland has become cabin space. There is so much of that all around Montana. Building after building is constructed what once was agricultural land. Sometimes they are spaced on 5 or 10 acre plots. Sometimes they are packed much closer together. I don’t know what percentage of these are second (or third or fourth) homes for the owners, but a large number of these buildings certainly appear to not be primary residences. Many are located in places that are hard to reach in winter except by snowmobile. Others are too far from places of employment to make them practical for working people. I am aware that there are more people who are able to work remotely, but that kind of work requires good phone service and high speed Internet, which I don’t believe are that common in the area yet. I’m sure that there will be a demand for such services. It seems strange to me that the cities in Montana, like cities in other parts of the country, have many homeless people while there are others who have multiple homes. The affluence of the wealthy have driven up the price of homes so that it is even more difficult for those without decent housing to obtain a place to live.
I paddled for an hour or so, sharing the lake with a couple of fishing boats. When the jet skis started to arrive, I took my leave of the place. I could tell what the rest of the day would be like. I’m pretty sure the fishing wasn’t any good by noon.
Perhaps we are experiencing another big upheaval. The land that once was home to dinosaurs became home to buffalo and then home to cattle and now home to tourists and the leisurely class.
While the changes seem out of place to me, I am in no position to judge. I didn’t stay in Montana. I shouldn’t expect it to stay the same for my occasional visits. The land that our family once owned now has all been sold to others who hold title and have the right to do with that land what they choose.
Still, there is a bit of nostalgia and a bit of grief for me when I return to a familiar place that is no longer familiar. Time and change continue and the future is not mine to hold.
