Decades ago, my little brother and I played for hours with plastic cowboys and Indians on the tile floor. We knew nothing of the political and historical ramifications of those toys. May they R.I.P. in their plastic boxes until they rise up and walk the land teaching us what it was like then.
Timely and thanks. Here's one of my poem of toy soldiers at North of Oxford:
https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2024/01/09/on-the-epistemology-of-toy-soldiers-by-henry-crawford/
Thank you for sharing that. Both of these works evoke so much as a mom of three boys who put plastic soldiers--in a doll house even.
Your closing lines so resonate.
Decades ago, my little brother and I played for hours with plastic cowboys and Indians on the tile floor. We knew nothing of the political and historical ramifications of those toys. May they R.I.P. in their plastic boxes until they rise up and walk the land teaching us what it was like then.
Ugh. After yesterday. And such madness in the past while. Long while.
Thank you for sharing this.
Good to have you back here, with your words.
Well done, James. And so very timely