Settlers and Nomads
16/07/15 06:24
I have been thinking about settlers and nomads for a few days. Of course it is always a bit risky to divide people into groups and labels are never completely accurate. They don’t predict human behavior or personality type. But sometimes you can say that folks are more or less like one of two ends of a spectrum and use that way of thinking to explain some of their behavior and ideas. And when an individual, family or community tries to make the transition from one way of living to another it can be awkward and difficult for the people involved.
I know settlers. We’re visiting at the River Ranch, right next to the Missouri River between Great Falls and Fort Benton Montana. There is bench land, bottom land, and even bottom land on the other side of the river that are part of the River Ranch operation. It is a 100% Certified Organic farming and ranching operation. I spent the summers here when I was 14 and 15, learning how to work, getting a little space from my family of origin, discovering a sense of independence, and immersing myself in the larger family enterprise.
This land was settled by my mother’s parents and grandparents generation in the 19th century. They were among the early non-indigenous families to come to this area. Fort Benton was the end of navigation for the steam ships. Prior to settlement, this area was primarily hunting grounds for a couple of different tribes. There was some conflict between the tribes, but it was minimal in part because there was a lot of land, a lot of buffalo and not so many people.
These days the primary operators of the ranch are the children of my cousins. That makes them the fifth generation of our family since settlement. Their children are the sixth generation to live on the place. For part of our family, once they settled, they stayed put. We read about our forebears in history books. I have been reading Liz Carlisle’s “Lentil Underground,” a book about organic farming and sustainable agriculture in the United States, and there are more references to the River Ranch and my cousin than any other farming/ranching operation. My great grandfather’s journals are part of the historical archives of the state. My grandmother’s piano will be transferred to the Montana Historical Society later this summer. These people are part of the story of this place.
Although I have never lived at the ranch, except for two summers, it always feels like coming home to be here. These people are settlers. They are here to stay.
At the other end of the spectrum, when I try to trace my father’s family roots, I discover that there are many places. It is hard to trace too far in Germany because of difficulties with changes in the spelling of the name, but I know the family came from that part of the world. Our people were in Russia for a short time. Children were born there, but they moved on. They were in Pennsylvania for a short time, perhaps one or two generations and then they moved on. My father and his father were both born on the same homestead in North Dakota but my grandfather sold out and moved his family to Montana when my dad was a teen. I was born in Montana, but have lived in Illinois, North Dakota, Idaho and South Dakota in my adult life. My children are in Washington and Missouri. Sometimes when we speak of our family, and the amount of travel that is required to be with our children and grandchildren we sigh and say, “Well, at least they’re all on the same continent.” For two years when our daughter lived in England that wasn’t the case.
I think that I have roots in both camps. Although my lifestyle has tended to be more nomadic, I have a deep understanding of the settlers in our family tree.
Unexpectedly, both groups - settlers and nomads - are passionate about the land. And that is a place where conflict can arise. When I engage in conversations with our Lakota neighbors in South Dakota, one of the things that I hear is that whites don’t have a sense of the sacredness of the land. We don’t understand it in the same ways that the Lakota do. There is truth to their claim. On the other hand, the Lakota were historically a nomadic people. It was the arrival of settlers, primarily European settlers, that forced the Lakota to make the transition from nomads to settlers. Their roots aren’t in just one place, but rather many places as they traveled across the land.
In our family the place that Susan and I left yesterday has only been owned by our people since about 1960. Our parents bought it as a summer camp for the family and invested both time and money to fix things up the way they are now. In 2011, when our mother died, the property passed to its second generation. I’m fairly certain it will be sold sometime in my lifetime. Too many of us are more nomadic than settler in personality and, frankly, there are too many children to jointly operate any one place. But the passion of my sisters and brothers and nieces and nephews for that piece of property is not in proportion to where they live. Some of those who live farthest away have displayed the greatest passion about what should happen with the land. The two sisters who live closest to the land are in such direct opposition about the management of the property that a strained conversation is about all they can muster these days. Both of those sisters lived out of state for many years and returned close to our home place later in their lives. My brother who has moved around a bit, but always lived in the state of our births, stays out of their arguments and didn’t come to participate in our recent conversations.
None of us have only one part of that spectrum. We nomads have some definite settler tendencies. Though I have been one of the nomadic siblings, I’ve lived in my house in South Dakota longer than any of my sisters or brothers have ever lived in a single residence.
Perhaps we are always in transition, struggling with our love of moving about and our desire to find a home. It is an epic story. In fact it is one of the great themes of the Hebrew Bible. It is a tension we won’t resolve in a single generation.
I know settlers. We’re visiting at the River Ranch, right next to the Missouri River between Great Falls and Fort Benton Montana. There is bench land, bottom land, and even bottom land on the other side of the river that are part of the River Ranch operation. It is a 100% Certified Organic farming and ranching operation. I spent the summers here when I was 14 and 15, learning how to work, getting a little space from my family of origin, discovering a sense of independence, and immersing myself in the larger family enterprise.
This land was settled by my mother’s parents and grandparents generation in the 19th century. They were among the early non-indigenous families to come to this area. Fort Benton was the end of navigation for the steam ships. Prior to settlement, this area was primarily hunting grounds for a couple of different tribes. There was some conflict between the tribes, but it was minimal in part because there was a lot of land, a lot of buffalo and not so many people.
These days the primary operators of the ranch are the children of my cousins. That makes them the fifth generation of our family since settlement. Their children are the sixth generation to live on the place. For part of our family, once they settled, they stayed put. We read about our forebears in history books. I have been reading Liz Carlisle’s “Lentil Underground,” a book about organic farming and sustainable agriculture in the United States, and there are more references to the River Ranch and my cousin than any other farming/ranching operation. My great grandfather’s journals are part of the historical archives of the state. My grandmother’s piano will be transferred to the Montana Historical Society later this summer. These people are part of the story of this place.
Although I have never lived at the ranch, except for two summers, it always feels like coming home to be here. These people are settlers. They are here to stay.
At the other end of the spectrum, when I try to trace my father’s family roots, I discover that there are many places. It is hard to trace too far in Germany because of difficulties with changes in the spelling of the name, but I know the family came from that part of the world. Our people were in Russia for a short time. Children were born there, but they moved on. They were in Pennsylvania for a short time, perhaps one or two generations and then they moved on. My father and his father were both born on the same homestead in North Dakota but my grandfather sold out and moved his family to Montana when my dad was a teen. I was born in Montana, but have lived in Illinois, North Dakota, Idaho and South Dakota in my adult life. My children are in Washington and Missouri. Sometimes when we speak of our family, and the amount of travel that is required to be with our children and grandchildren we sigh and say, “Well, at least they’re all on the same continent.” For two years when our daughter lived in England that wasn’t the case.
I think that I have roots in both camps. Although my lifestyle has tended to be more nomadic, I have a deep understanding of the settlers in our family tree.
Unexpectedly, both groups - settlers and nomads - are passionate about the land. And that is a place where conflict can arise. When I engage in conversations with our Lakota neighbors in South Dakota, one of the things that I hear is that whites don’t have a sense of the sacredness of the land. We don’t understand it in the same ways that the Lakota do. There is truth to their claim. On the other hand, the Lakota were historically a nomadic people. It was the arrival of settlers, primarily European settlers, that forced the Lakota to make the transition from nomads to settlers. Their roots aren’t in just one place, but rather many places as they traveled across the land.
In our family the place that Susan and I left yesterday has only been owned by our people since about 1960. Our parents bought it as a summer camp for the family and invested both time and money to fix things up the way they are now. In 2011, when our mother died, the property passed to its second generation. I’m fairly certain it will be sold sometime in my lifetime. Too many of us are more nomadic than settler in personality and, frankly, there are too many children to jointly operate any one place. But the passion of my sisters and brothers and nieces and nephews for that piece of property is not in proportion to where they live. Some of those who live farthest away have displayed the greatest passion about what should happen with the land. The two sisters who live closest to the land are in such direct opposition about the management of the property that a strained conversation is about all they can muster these days. Both of those sisters lived out of state for many years and returned close to our home place later in their lives. My brother who has moved around a bit, but always lived in the state of our births, stays out of their arguments and didn’t come to participate in our recent conversations.
None of us have only one part of that spectrum. We nomads have some definite settler tendencies. Though I have been one of the nomadic siblings, I’ve lived in my house in South Dakota longer than any of my sisters or brothers have ever lived in a single residence.
Perhaps we are always in transition, struggling with our love of moving about and our desire to find a home. It is an epic story. In fact it is one of the great themes of the Hebrew Bible. It is a tension we won’t resolve in a single generation.