I’m looking out my bedroom window, and a mountain is looking back at me. It’s green and rugged and I’m in a valley, and I’m not very green anymore, though maybe I’m still a bit rugged. I’d hardly call myself refined.
So, there were pioneers. Many of my friends have ancestors who crossed the plains in crazy weather conditions and under the order of God’s prophet, in addition to being run out of the Midwest by state governments.
And they settled in Utah.
This is the place.
Apparently some of my dad’s relatives came on that trek, I think. I would need for him to retell the story. He was born in Salt Lake City. His parents were LDS, and he has a stepmother who’s a member of the Reorganized LDS church.
My mother was born and raised Catholic, in the Philippines.
I was born in the Philippines, and my birth certificate says I have a Catholic mother from the Philippines and a Mormon father from Salt Lake City.
I talked aloud to one person today, my roommate. I told her I wouldn’t be going to church, so she didn’t have to worry about giving me a ride. Then I read and slept. And read and slept.
There are people in Africa who populate remote areas of continent. Why do they roam, where do they wander, and how do they decide to settle in certain areas?
And, why are other people stuck? Is it a matter of pride? Survival? Circumstance?
What are frontiers, anyway? What goes unexplored in realms physical and metaphysical?
Now, I’m thinking about Norway.
How do we understand what and where people are trying to explore?
Who are the pioneers, anyway? Do we always agree with or understand what they discover?