Dear Dirty America


January 08
03:37 2012
I spent a long while out of the blogosphere loop as I traveled around America’s last frontier, North Dakota. North Dakota is a state where Indians and farmers still get into small skirmishes, and the nightly news has to report the bloody finale every few weeks.

Imagine seeing on your local news station images of an old farmer, say his name is Grandpa Johnston, laying spread eagle on the hardened soil, dead beneath the twinkling summer sun, and stuck through the chest with three handcrafted arrows. That’s North Dakota. The last frontier. It takes guts to live there.

I drove to the famed oil-boom city Dickinson, North Dakota, to visit my reclusive grandmother who wears faded red Christmas sweaters the year round. I hadn’t seen her in years. 


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