As

As Ariana Huffington would say, "You should blog about it."

Well here goes:

I could not sleep tonight. I'm sure my temporary insomnia was an affect of passing out in my one and only piece of furniture- an arm chair- at 8 pm. I woke up and felt the urge to listen to spoken voice, as per usual. David Sedaris often satisfies that urge and I did listen to a couple of stories; had some giggles alone in my bed. But, it was not enough to talk me back to sleep.

I remembered I owned a more sobering and scholarly audio book and decided that it had been too long since I had "read" it. It was, is, Howard Zinn's "A peoples' history" and within its pages, or spoken words, lie some of the most enlightening accounts of American history. Regretably, I only own the latter half of the book. As a sort of celebrity bonus, it is read by Matt Damon.

The introduction is read by Howard Zinn himself and this is what I began listening to after being awake for about 45 mins. Howard Zinn very carefully distinguishes his ideology of history from the prevailing one, the one taught to all of us in public schools. His endeavor, he explains, is to tell the history of this country-- 1492 to 1970-- from the point of view of the people. Anglo Saxon aristocrats of this nation, apparently, are responsible for the majority of historical accounts out there, well, published ones dating from Columbus' time to the mid-twentyth century. This small demographic alone has supplied the rest of the world with a over representation of certain events and monumental figures, and a slight, in some cases, miniscule, account of the affect of this two things on the common people. During the introduction to this audio book, Howard Zinn gives a sort of prologue concerning on the celebrated discovery of the "new world" by Columbus. He decides to profess the torture, enslavement and suffering the Arrowac indians who were victims of Columbus' fame, his desperation to return a profit for his investors.

I don't know why, but I immediately thought of Dr. Petersen. He was a humanist through and through; a man of the people. During the spring of 2003 I took Anthro 160, " the history of North American Indians". I can still see the tears in Dr. Petersen's eyes after showing us a movie on the 2nd wounded knee. Because of this memory, this mood, this impression of Dr. Petersen's compassion for conquered people, I found irony in his murder. Everyone has. Then I felt a tide of guilt wash over me. The condition of inequity that exists between me and Petersen's murderers is entirely our collective faults. Almost everyone at UVM and in Burlington and in the US. We put overwhelming economic force we put on small, undeveloped countries, on people who love their land. All the influence we have: it's not fair. It is not fair that we consume cocaine in huge quantities, creating a demand and livelihood for people who are yet subject to our consumption of more " wholesome goods". These are the people who shot doctor Petersen in the chest when they were high on drugs and drunk. These are the people we've created. This is what our pollution created: the need for American money, the need for the amenities of our situation. Acting as some sort of perpetual dynamo, our country has exacerbated the situation and widen the gaps in living standards by exploiting and destroying the very lands on which these people would find any alternative livelihood.

Am I exonerating Petersen's murderers and justifying the slaughter of Americans? No. I am realizing that I can not find Petersen's murder ironic in the vast context of our national influence. The irony in this situation is that James Petersen loved these people, he studied their origins and glorious pasts, and died by their hands (and in their hands). But the more subtle and important irony is that we made the gun, we made the cocaine, we made the lust for our money.

I am implicating myself.