Lewis And Clark Quotes

Ms. Wormwood: Calvin, can you tell us what Lewis and Clark did? Calvin: No, but I can recite the secret superhero origin of each member of Captain Napalm's Thermonuclear League of Liberty. Ms. Wormwood: See me after class, Calvin. Calvin: [retrospectively] I'm not dumb. I just have a command of thoroughly useless information.

where there's a Clark, there's a Lewis

She will try to find the nice way to exercise intelligence. But intelligence is not ladylike. Intelligence is full of excesses. Rigorous intelligene abhors sentimentality, and women must be sentimental to value the dreadful silliness of the men around them. Morbid intelligence abhors the cheery sunlight of positive thinking and eternal sweetness; and women must be sunlight and cheery and sweet, or the woman could not bribe her way with smiles through a day. Wild intelligence abhors any narrow world; and the world of women must stay narrow, or the woman is an outlaw. No woman could be Nietzsche or Rimbaud without ending up in a whorehouse or lobotomized. Any vital intelligence has passionate questions, aggressive answers; but women cannot be explorers; there can be no Lewis or Clark of the female mind.

If education really educates, there will, in time, be more and more citizens who understand that relics of the old West add meaning and value to the new. Youth yet unborn will pole up the Missouri with Lewis and Clark, or climb the Sierras with James Capen Adams, and each generation in turn will ask: Where is the big white bear? It will be a sorry answer to say he went under while conservationists weren't looking.

At the time of Lewis and Clark, setting the prairies on fire was a well-known signal that meant, ‘Come down to the water.’ It was an extravagant gesture, but we can’t do less. If the landscape reveals one certainty, it is that the extravagant gesture is the very stuff of creation. After the extravagant gesture of creation in the first place, the universe has continued to deal exclusively in extravagances, flinging intricacies and colossi down aeons of emptiness, heaping profusions on profligacies with ever fresh vigor. The whole show has been on fire from the word go. I come down to the water to cool my eyes. But everywhere I look, I see fire: that which isn’t flint is tinder, and the whole world sparks and flames.

There is precisely zero scientific evidence demonstrating wolves, unlike ourselves, have ever driven any species to extinction. Of course, no antiwolf advocate points to the unrestricted slaughter and habitat reduction, not by wolves but by humans, that speeded the demise of those great herds of bison, deer, and elk reported by Lewis and Clark.

I like my morning coffee so strong it will wake up the neighbors. And if that doesn't work, I'll start playing my tuba.

Living on one's own is not always ideal - but then, neither is marriage. The mated format is charted territory. Those venturing into singlehood are the Lewis and Clarks of a pioneering lifestyle with few maps, unexpected ambushes, and an infinity of adventures. Therein lies its glory!

[The brain] is just a landscape...We're Lewis and Clark. We have no idea what's going on in most of that terrain. It's wilderness, I'm telling you. -Dr. David Sutton

God is waiting for you at suite 1208 Lewis and Clark Towers. Don’t make Him come get you. You won’t like it.

On nights like this, I feel like Henry Rowe Schoolcraft as I venture into the wild. Henry made it his craft to school people about the area, becoming The Lewis and Clark of The Ozarks.

Before the blue of night meets the pink of sunrise, there is a transition of lavender. It's a gradient of color that stretches its fade through time, and that gives each moment a unique and exquisite existence.

Native Americans cured Cartier's men of scurvy near Montreal in 1535. They repaired Francis Drake's Golden Hind in California so he could complete his round-the-world voyage in 1579. Lewis and Clark's expedition to the Pacific Northwest was made possible by tribe after tribe of American Indians, with help from two Shoshone guides, Sacagawea and Toby, who served as interpreters. When Admiral Peary discovered the North Pole, the first person there was probably neither the European American Peary nor the African American Matthew Henson, his assistant, but their four Inuit guides, men and women on whom the entire expedition relied. Our histories fail to mention such assistance. They portray proud Western conquerors bestriding the world like the Colossus at Rhodes. So long as our textbooks hide from us the roles that people of color have played in exploration, from at least 6000 BC to to the twentieth century, they encourage us to look to Europe and its extensions as the seat of all knowledge and intelligence. So long as they say "discover," they imply that whites are the only people who really matter. So long as they simply celebrate Columbus, rather than teach both sides of his exploit, they encourage us to identify with white Western exploitation rather than study it.

Anyone who has ever canoed on the upper Missouri River knows what a welcome sight a grove of cottonoods can be. They provide shade, shelter, and fuel. For Indian ponies, they provide food. For the Corps of Discovery, they provided wheels, wagons, and canoes. Pioneering Lewis and Clark scholar Paul Russell Cutright pays the cottonwoods an appropriate tribute: 'Of all the wetern trees it contributed more to the success of the Expedition than any other. Lewis and Clark were men of great talent and resourcefulness, masters of ingenuity and improvisation. Though we think it probable that they would hae successfully crossed the continent without the cottonwood, don't as us how!

What does Africa — what does the West stand for? Is not our own interior white on the chart? black though it may prove, like the coast, when discovered. Is it the source of the Nile, or the Niger, or the Mississippi, or a Northwest Passage around this continent, that we would find? Are these the problems which most concern mankind? Is Franklin the only man who is lost, that his wife should be so earnest to find him? Does Mr. Grinnell know where he himself is? Be rather the Mungo Park,the Lewis and Clark and Frobisher,of your own streams and oceans; explore your own higher latitudes — with shiploads of preserved meats to support you, if they be necessary; and pile the empty cans sky-high for a sign. Were preserved meats invented to preserve meat merely? Nay, be a Columbus to whole new continents and worlds within you, opening new channels, not of trade, but of thought. Every man is the lord of a realm beside which the earthly empire of the Czar is but a petty state, a hummock left by the ice. Yet some can be patriotic who have no self-respect, and sacrifice the greater to the less. They love the soil which makes their graves, but have no sympathy with the spirit which may still animate their clay. Patriotism is a maggot in their heads.What was the meaning of that South-Sea Exploring Expedition,with all its parade and expense, but an indirect recognition of the fact that there are continents and seas in the moral world to which every man is an isthmus or an inlet, yet unexplored by him, but that it is easier to sail many thousand miles through cold and storm and cannibals, in a government ship, with five hundred men and boys to assist one, than it is to explore the private sea, the Atlantic and Pacific Ocean of one's being alone.

Narrow-minded historians will say there's no proof that [Meriwether] Lewis was dude-loving. Another telling indication was that his Newfoundland dog was named "Seaman". Talk about a Freudian slip. What straight man like to go around saying "Seaman, come! Seaman, come!" amid a group of strapping beefcake?

Whilst I viewed those mountains, I felt a secret pleasure in finding myself so near the head of the--heretofore conceived--boundless Missouri. But when I reflected on the difficulties which this snowy barrier would most probably throw in my way to the Pacific Ocean, and the sufferings and hardships of myself and the party in them, it in some measure counterbalanced the joy I had felt in the first moments in which I gazed on them. But, as I have always held it little short of criminality to anticipate evils, I will allow it to be a good, comfortable road until I am compelled to believe otherwise. (William Clark)

It is hypocritical to exhort the Brazilians to conserve their rainforest after we have already destroyed the grassland ecosystem that occupied half the continent when we found it. A large-scale grassland restoration project would give us some moral authority when we seek conservation abroad. I must admit that I also like the idea because it would mean a better home for pronghorn, currently pushed by agriculture into marginal habitats-The high sagebrush deserts of the West. I would love to return the speedsters to their evolutionary home, the Floor of the Sky. Imagine a huge national reserve where anyone could see what caused Lewis and Clark to write with such enthusiasm in their journals-the sea of grass and flowers dotted with massive herds of bison, accompanied by the dainty speedsters and by great herds of elk. Grizzly bears and wolves would patrol the margins of the herds and coyotes would at last be reduced to their proper place. The song of the meadowlarks would pervade the prairie and near water the spring air would ring with the eerie tremolos of snipe.

I admire the flow of your dancing moves, and I'd love to bottle them up and sell them as windshield wiper fluid. I only wish they came in Ozarks Rain Flavor.

Time is fluid, like the wide sky that fades into bright orange in a sunset in The Ozarks. Every moment is meant to be sipped and savored like a slow mimosa.

In high school, I was on the carpentry team, but I got benched. It was awkward sitting on it while my teammates built it.

There is no romance if there is no fog. When everything is clear, there's no element of mystery. In The Ozarks, mystique is ubiquitous.

Can we go back to the way things were, before life got so complicated with the wheel and then the three other wheels?

Love makes the world go round. Too bad love doesn’t make the world go other shapes, like Table Rock Lake.

Francis Bacon has the most delicious last name ever, followed closely by Johnny Scrambledeggs. I golf like those two guys make breakfast out of family reunions.

No matter which end of a hotdog you take your first bite from, I’ll tell you you’re eating it backwards. I’m serious, I think you may be dyslexic.

I should design door handles made of flowing water. To open, pull like salmon swim.

Only Bob Dylan knows which of his songs belong in the trash and which belong in the garbage. I’m so ignorant, I’d say either one works.

By 2030 I won't need to carry any Portable Communication Device, because by then I will have mastered the art of telepathy. I've been practicing in the mirror.

The truth is that the truth isn’t hiding. It’s out in the open—it’s the people that are hiding from the truth.

I once saw a waterfall walk up a flight of stairs, when it could have easily taken the escalator. That's what I would have done, if I were composed of 40% more H2O.

Cash rich is future poor. Back in 1913, I could have almost bought a mansion for the price of a cup of coffee today.

First Artificial Intelligence stole all the jobs. Then it snatched up all the people off the streets at night, and now I'm left alone, playing my saxophone at the moon.

M.C. Escher called. He wanted to sell me some upside-down stairs. I said I already have a few, and then I got him to buy an upwalking slinky.

Airplanes are white, like Pekin ducks. And when they are on flat ground, that possibility of flight fills the air.

I describe The Ozarks as somewhere in the middle of enchanting and charming. I don't know where exactly, so let's call it encharming.

Today is the one that introduces Yesterday to Tomorrow. If it weren't for Today, Nostalgia would never meet Hope.

All my failures as a human being I blame on my father. Life is about accepting responsibility, and it’s time my father started being held accountable for my deficiencies.

Play your saxophone like a quacking duck. An electric guitar full of lightning doesn't even have that energy.

This is the Los Angeles Lakers of sunsets. Purple and yellow, it reminds me of Larry Bird.

Yesterday I played a round of golf. I just kept hitting the ball in circles, but never getting it in the circles they call holes.

The song’s advice said, “Play that funky music, white boy.” So, I took up the xylophone.

Add some mystery to your morning coffee and stir in some mist. Or go full fog for that #MissMarpleFlavor. Then solve it sip by sip.

Of all the sports, golf is certainly one of them. Well, almost certainly, and I think that’s what I love most about it.

Where two are, loneliness isn't. And with loneliness left out, loneliness is lonely.

In the Arkansas section of The Ozarks, you’ll find water so blue it’s almost green. Around here, and anywhere people aren’t colorblind, we call that teal.

The Red Hot Chili Peppers have a great song about a bridge. And I can relate, because I love spicy food.

Turn the music down, and when you hit zero decibels—turn it down even more. Negative volume produces the most beautiful dancing.

Life is more romantic with soft piano music. I just wish those particular instruments were more portable, so my back wouldn't be so sore.

After five years of military occupation, the French population of Illinois was exhausted and bewildered.

I called this island Bad Humored Island, as we were in a bad humor.

found

Coffee, it's the original energy drink. After I chug this I'll feel like I could run a marathon, but I won't, because I have two Rubik's Cubes for knees, and they still need to be solved.

I like mini-golf. For me, it’s like long-billiards, where the green has contours, and the table is the floor. This putt-putt course is dilapidated, but that just makes it more challenging.

Five dollars," O'Malley insisted. "He's small, but smarter than all the other pups put together. I swear he sometimes knows exactly what I'm saying." I knew what he was saying all the time.

You might be asking yourself, "Jarod, why did you write something that maybe one person is going to read?" The answer is easy: Because that gives me a larger audience than The Washington Post.

Big Cedar is Jackson Hole of The Ozarks. The easiest way to tell the difference between a buffalo and a bison is one has wings and tastes great with hot sauce, and the other is a Wyoming hamburger.

Such is the economy of nature," Thomas Jefferson wrote, "that no instance can be produced, of her having permitted any one race of her animals to become extinct; of her having formed any link in her great work so weak as to be broken." When, as President, he dispatched Meriwether Lewis and William Clark to the Northwest, Jefferson hoped that they would come upon live mastodons roaming the region.

Water doesn’t shape like clay when you move it with your hands. I've spent a lot of time swimming, and none of my motion art stayed in place. All my aqua sculpting rippled into the future, never to be seen again.

A lot of wisdom goes to waste because people speak it openly into the air during conversations, and it dissipates into the atmosphere without raining back down in the form of written text to be read in the future.

In a Lake of Clouds, there's only one thing you can fish for: Dreams. Mostly I catch mine, but sometimes I catch yours, and I must say I am flattered to always see myself as the co-star in your subconscious fantasies.

To blame me in the past is a very future me thing to do. But what am I supposed to do, scapegoat someone else for my mistakes? Somebody needs to be held accountable, and it certainly won’t be the version of me in that moment.

Dance critics all over the world have called my body moves, “Sculpturesque,” “As full of motion as a Rodin statue,” and “Like watching Helen Keller eat Jell-O with her elbows.” My dancing is so still and silent that it belongs to a foggy Ozarks morning.

Our people were divided in opinion about these men. Some thought they taught more bad than good. An Indian respects a brave man, but he despises a coward. He loves a straight tongue, but he hates a forked tongue. The French trappers told us some truths and some lies. The first white men of your people who came to our country were named Lewis and Clark. They also brought many things that our people had never seen. They talked straight, and our people gave them a great feast as a proof that their hearts were friendly. These

It was there that Lewis and Clark encountered and scrapped with the Arikara. It was there that unscrupulous agents of fur companies waged biological warfare on them, bringing blankets from Saint Louis—blankets deliberately contaminated with smallpox, to which the Indians’ unsuspecting immune systems fell easy prey. And it was there, on August 9, 1823, that Colonel Henry Leavenworth and a force of nearly three hundred U.S. Army soldiers, Missouri militiamen, and Sioux warriors attacked the villages with rifles, bows, clubs, and gunboats. During the night of August 14, the remaining Arikara slipped away from their battered villages. BY

Clark liked to say that human beings, when they took risks, fell into one of two types, pigs or chickens. “The difference between these two kinds of people,” he’d say, “is the difference between the pig and the chicken in the ham-and-eggs breakfast. The chicken is interested, the pig is committed. If you are going to do anything worth doing, you need a lot of pigs.” The

We were now about to penetrate a country at least two thousand miles in width, on which the foot of civilized man had never trod. The good or evil it had in store for us was for experiment yet to determine, and these little vessels contained every article by which we were to expect to subsist or defend ourselves. However, as the state of mind in which we are, generally gives the coloring to events, when the imagination is suffered to wander into futurity, the picture which now presented itself to me was a most pleasing one. Entertaining as I do the most confident hope of succeeding in a voyage which had formed a darling project of mine for the last ten years, I could but esteem this moment of my departure as among the most happy of my life. (Meriwether Lewis)

Trump was hardly in office when Democrats and their media allies began tarring him and his top aides as “white nationalists.” There were no facts to support the charge, only innuendo, and tortured interpretations of the word “nationalism” and of presidential rhetoric. One of the worst examples was the Charlottesville, Virginia, historical monument controversy. In that city, leftist protesters demanded the removal of “Confederate” monuments and memorials. The term “Confederate” in their usage extended even to statues of Thomas Jefferson and explorers Lewis and Clark (for being “white colonists”). This sparked a protest by conservatives who objected to the statue removals—not because they were racists, but because they didn’t want to see the removal of these reminders of America’s history. A “Unite the Right” rally was planned for August 11–12, 2017, to protest the removal of a statue of Robert E. Lee. Unfortunately, the rally attracted extremist groups, including neo-Confederates, neo-Nazis, and the KKK. During the rally, a white supremacist drove his car into a crowd of leftist protestors, killing a woman. In response, Trump made a series of statements condemning the Klan, neo-Nazis, white supremacists, and racism in general. In one of those speeches, he added, “You also had some very fine people on both sides.”115 Even though he had just condemned racism in his previous breath, many Democrats and pundits condemned Trump for calling racists “fine people.” This was not only absurd but dishonest. The “fine people on both sides” to whom he referred were those who wanted to remove the statues because they were reminders of slavery and those who wanted to preserve the statues because they were reminders of history. Trump never praised racists as “fine people”—he condemned them in no uncertain terms. But to the

These men were very kind. They made presents to our chiefs and our people made presents to them. We had a great many horses, of which we gave them what they needed, and they gave us guns and tobacco in return. All the Nez Perce made friends with Lewis and Clark, and agreed to let them pass through their country, and never to make war on white men. This promise the Nez Perce have never broken. No white man can accuse them of bad faith and speak with a straight tongue. It has always been the pride of the Nez Perce that they were the friends of the white men. When my father was a young man there came to our country a white man [Rev. Henry H. Spaulding] who talked spirit law. He won the affections of our people because he spoke good things to them. At first he did not say anything about white men wanting to settle on our lands. Nothing was said about that until about twenty winters ago, when a number of white people came into our country and built houses and made farms. At first our people made no complaint. They thought there was room

With great trepidation, Buffon allowed that this last species [the American mastodon]- "the largest of them all" - seemed to have disappeared. It was, he proposed, the only land animal ever to have done so. ... In 1781, Thomas Jefferson was drawn into the controvery.... [He believed] it was still out there somewhere. If it could not be found in Virginia, it was roaming those parts of the continent that "remain in their aboriginal stated, unexplored and undisturbed. When, as president, he dispatched Meriwether Lewis and William Clark to the Northwest, Jefferson hoped that they would come upon live [American mastodon] roaming its forests.

The answer was simple and direct, as it had been throughout the period of white contact with the red men. First, make them dependent. Meriwether Lewis and William Clark saw this in a flash after their initial encounter with the Sioux, of whom they said, “These are the vilest miscreants of the savage race, and must ever remain the pirates of the Missouri, until such measures are pursued, by our government, as will make them feel a dependence on its will for their supply of merchandise.”22 All that would then be needed to put the Indian on the road to civilization was, in the words of Henry Knox, the Secretary of War in 1789, to give the Indian “a love for exclusive property.”23

We gathered up the kids and sat up on the hill. We had no time to get our chickens and no time to get our horses out of the corral. The water came in and smacked against the corral and broke the horses' legs. The drowned, and the chickens drowned. We sat on the hill and we cried. These are the stories we tell about the river," said [Ladona] Brave Bull Allard. The granddaughter of Chief Brave Bull, she told her story at a Missouri River symposium in Bismark, North Dakota, in the fall of 2003. Before The Flood, her Standing Rock Sioux Tribe lived in a Garden of Eden, where nature provided all their needs. "In the summer, we would plant huge gardens because the land was fertile," she recalled. We had all our potatoes and squash. We canned all the berries that grew along the river. Now we don't have the plants and the medicine they used to make.

Or, in your case, as wide. Wait. Did you just say Gandalf?” “He is the founder of our order, and the first of the Five Warlocks. He comes from afar across the Western Ocean, from Easter Island, or perhaps from Japan.” “No, I think he comes from the mind of a story writer. An old-fashioned Roman Catholic from the days just before First Space Age. Unless I am confusing him with the guy who wrote about Talking Animal Land? With the Cowardly Lion who gets killed by a Wicked White Witch? I never read the text, I watched the comic.” “Oh, you err so! The Witches, we have preserved this lore since the time of the Fall of the Giants, whom we overthrew and destroyed. The tale is this: C. S. Lewis and Arthur C. Clarke were led by the Indian Maiden Sacagawea to the Pacific Ocean and back, stealing the land from the Red Man and selling them blankets impregnated with smallpox. It was called the Lewis and Clarke Expedition. When they reached the Pacific, they set out in the Dawn Treader to find the sea route to India, where the sacred river Alph runs through caverns measureless to man down to a sunless sea. They came to the Last Island, called Ramandu or Selidor, where the World Serpent guards the gateway to the Land of the Dead, and there they found Gandalf, returned alive from the underworld, and stripped of all his powers. He came again to mortal lands in North America to teach the Simon Families. The Chronicle is a symbolic retelling of their journey. It is one of our Holy Books.” “Your Holy Books were written for children by Englishmen.” “The gods wear many masks! If the Continuum chooses the lips of a White Man to be the lips through which the Continuum speaks, who are we to question? Tolkien was not Roman. He was of a race called the hobbits, Homo floresiensis, discovered on an isle in Indonesia, and he would have lived in happiness, had not the White Man killed him with DDT. So there were no Roman Catholics involved. May the Earth curse their memory forever! May they be forgotten forever!” “Hm. Earth is big. Maybe it can do both. You know about Rome? It perished in the Ecpyrosis, somewhat before your time.” “How could we not? The Pope in Rome created the Giants, whom the Witches rose up against and overthrew. Theirs was the masculine religion, aggressive, intolerant, and forbidding abortion. Ours is the feminine religion, peaceful and life-affirming and all-loving, and we offer the firstborn child to perish on our sacred fires. The First Coven was organized to destroy them like rats! When Rome was burned, we danced, and their one god was cast down and fled weeping on his pierced feet, and our many gods rose up. My ancestors hunted the Christians like stoats, and when we caught them, we burned them slowly, as they once did of us in Salem. What ill you do is returned to you tenfold!” “Hm. Are you willing to work with a Giant? I saw one in the pit, and saw the jumbo-sized coffin they pried him out from. What if he is a baptized Christian? Most of them were, since they were created by my pet pope and raised by nuns.” “All Christians must perish! Such is our code.” “Your code is miscoded.” “What of the Unforgettable Hate?” “Forget about it.

A person can say he loves God with all his heart and can give a great impression of this being the case, but if he does not relate well with others, he is deceived and/or deceiving (1 John 4:20).

I continue to live by many of the rules I learned running a business for nearly forty years, advice dispensed by my mother, Jewell Spencer Lewis Clarke: 1) Be a proud black man; 2) Take care of family; 3) Get a good education; and 4) Always try to do the right thing.

George Rogers Clark (1752-1818) was the highest ranking military officer on the western frontier in the American Revolution.  He was also the brother of famed Freemason William Clark (of the Lewis and Clark expedition).  A Freemason, George Rogers Clark's Lodge is unknown, but Abraham Lodge 8, Louisville conducted his Masonic funeral.  In 1809, at age 57, Brother Clark suffered a stroke and fell into a fireplace, burning his leg so badly it required amputation. When Dr. Richard Ferguson, Master of Abraham Lodge, performed the amputation, the only anesthetic Brother Clark received  was music from a fife and drum corps playing in the background.

November 20. Two rows of four cabins

Sergeant Charles Floyd

wanted more gunpowder and bullets and “a little Milk of the Great Father

Capt. Lewis is brave, prudent, habituated to the woods, and familiar with Indian manners and character,” Jefferson told Benjamin Rush.95 Lewis asked William Clark, George Rogers Clark’s brother, to join him in organizing what became known as the Corps of Volunteers for North West Discovery.96 Jefferson thought of America as an “empire of liberty.” Now he would have a keener, more detailed grasp of the continent that stretched far beyond the nation’s existing borders—and a chance at claiming that sprawling West.

Gil handed Henny one of the cushions and a one-pound coffee can from under the seat. Henny was very suspicious. “What’s this for?” he asked. “Why are you giving me this stuff?” “The cushion is for your sitter,” Gil said, “and the can is for the water.” “What water?” said Henny. He didn’t look too good. “Well, there’s bound to be a little extra water with the three of us sitting here,” said Gil. “And your friend hasn’t done much rowing. He splashes a bit over the side.” Henny glared at me. “Quit it,” he said. “Just quit splashing water into the boat.” I tried to be smooth. By the time we got out into the river, I was doing better. “Two steps forward, one step backward,” said Gil. “We aren’t making much progress against this current.” “I’ll go out a little farther,” I said. “Maybe the current won’t be so strong out there.” I felt very good about things. My rowing was getting better. We were closer to the bowl. The crew was busy and in high spirits. Gil was reading from The Journals of Lewis and Clark. Henny was searching his photographic memory for loose information. “Says here that one time, the expedition had nothing to eat but bear fat and candles,” said Gil. “Now that’s real interesting.” Henny sighed. “Sometimes they ate buffalo humps, and wolf meat, and a root called Wappato. Wappato is supposed to taste like potatoes. Boy, am I hungry. Did anybody bring a snack?” “There might be a few crackers under your seat,” said Gil. “Then again, there might not be.” “There is a box of Wheat Thins,” said Henny after he rummaged around under the seat. “It is soggy, dirty, crushed, and unfit for human consumption.” “I never eat them,” said Gil. “I feed them to the kingfishers. But if you’re really hungry, they’re better than candles.” Henny waved the box in the air. “Is anything going to go right on this trip?” he said. A sea gull swooped down and almost got the box. The crew was starting to feel the hardships. Desperation and hunger had set in. I figured the people from my island would look to the turtle for an answer to this situation, so I tried to do the same. The only thing I could come up with was that the armor on a turtle was much better protection than an old rowboat.

Two steps forward, two steps backward,” said Gil. “The current is worse out here. We are not getting anywhere.” “Just give me a little time,” I said. I thought of a turtle out of water, slow, plodding, finally getting somewhere, but not very fast. “We’ll get there eventually,” I added. “Slow, but sure.” Henny bailed out a few tablespoons of water. “We might sink first,” he said. “We should go back.” “Hang on to your cushion,” said Gil. “That should give you a sense of security.” Henny grabbed the cushion and held it out for us to examine. “Look at this thing,” he said. “Cracked, split, stained, torn, with a little fish-hook on the handle. Here’s a label. Maybe it has directions.” Henny gasped. “Do not use this as a flotation device,” he read aloud. “Why can’t I use this as a flotation device? You said I could use it.” Henny’s voice squeaked. “You can use it,” Gil said. “I’m telling you, you can use it.” “Well, now,” said Henny. “That is simply a great relief. Sure I can use it. But will it hold me up?” Gil picked up his book and started to read. “Did you know that everyone wanted to trade Lewis and Clark for blue beads?” he said. “Have you ever found any blue beads?” “You’re trying to change the subject,” said Henny. “I want to know if this cushion will hold me up.

Old and cold. High rates of suicide and prescription drug abuse. Look at the inbred faces at the grocery stores and coffee shops, the exercise-deficient kids, the routinized state workers, the sun-deprived adults and isolated third and fourth generation sad cases who've never experienced a meal outside of Lewis and Clark County. Make no mistake; Helena, Montana is old and cold and the rigid, sick antithesis of living.

Their era was ending when Jim Clyman got to Independence in ’44 and found Bill Sublette, who had first taken wagons up the Platte Valley in 1830, now taking invalids to Brown’s Hole for a summer’s outing. It was twenty-one years since Jim had first gone up the Missouri, forty years since Lewis and Clark wintered at the Mandan villages, thirty-three years since Wilson Hunt led the Astorians westward, twenty years since Clyman with Smith and Fitzpatrick crossed South Pass, eighteen years since Ashley, in the Wasatch Mountains, sold his fur company to Smith, Sublette, and Jackson. Thirty-two years ago Robert McKnight had been imprisoned by the Spanish for taking goods to Santa Fe. Twenty-three years ago William Becknell had defied the prohibition and returned from Santa Fe in triumph. Eighteen years ago the Patties had got to San Diego by the Gila route and Jed Smith had blazed the desert trail to San Bernardino Valley; fourteen years ago Ewing Young, with Kit Carson, had come over the San Bernardino Mountains, making for the San Joaquin. There had been a trading post at the mouth of Laramie Creek for just ten years. Bent’s Fort was fifteen years old. Now the streams were trapped out, and even if beaver should come back, the price of plews would never rise again. There were two or three thousand Americans in Oregon, a couple of hundred in California, and in Independence hundreds of wagons were yoking up. Bill Sublette and Black Harris were guiding movers. Carson and Fitzpatrick were completing the education of John Charles Frémont. Forty years since Lewis and Clark. Think back to that blank paper with some names sketched in, the Wind River peaks, the Tetons, the Picketwire River, the Siskidee, names which, mostly, the mountain men sketched in — something under a million square miles, the fundamental watershed, a thousand mountain men scalped in this wilderness, the deserts crossed, the trails blazed and packed down, the mountains made known, the caravans carrying freight to Santa Fe, Bill Bowen selling his place to go to Oregon, half a dozen wagonwrights setting up at Independence … and, far off, like a fly buzzing against a screen, Joe Meek’s cousin, Mr. Polk, preparing war. Whose country was it? III Pillar of Cloud ALL through February Congress debated the resolution to terminate the joint occupancy of Oregon, and by its deliberation, Polk thought, informed the British that we were irresolute.

pirogues,

Two hundred years after Euro-Americans "discovered" it, America's river west begins and ends at pollution.

I was hooked. He started me with shorter reads, books such as Endurance,7 which chronicled Ernest Shackleton’s adventures in Antarctica. Later he led me into much larger challenges, such as Undaunted Courage,8 which depicts the journey of Lewis and Clark, and many more interesting and exciting literary adventures. I often exchanged these books with my dad and Coach Pickett back home for their best choices as well, which included Truman,9 and Freedom from Fear.10 I

For engineering talent Clark looked to Silicon Graphics. In particular he had his sights on the Indian engineers who had taught him to write the code for his boat and then built the interactive television. Clark had a thing for Indians. “The Indian outcasts of Silicon Valley,” he usually called them; “my Indian hordes,” in less sober moments. He thought of the young Indian men who had taught him the tools he needed to program his sailboat as some of the sharpest technical minds he’d ever encountered. “As a concentrated group,” he said, “they were the most talented engineers in the Valley…and they work their butts off!” As it happened, the Indian education system had been built to find and to cultivate precisely those skills Clark, and people like Clark, valued most.

For the members of the Lewis and Clark expedition, the suspension of their own mores when they came in contact with the Indian nations was quite the opposite of battle, bringing not horrors, but the guiltless pleasure of a liaison unlike any in the United States- unlike any, because it didn't have to be arranged, induced, concealed, limited, remunerated, or sanctified.

With a StoryBrand-inspired narrative, ordinary jobs become extraordinary adventures. With a unifying BrandScript, the above story would have gone more like this: Before even applying for a job, the prospective employee has already heard the buzz on the street about this cool company. It’s somehow more alive. The people who work there love it and so do their customers. They exude a sense of competence within their industry as well as across the community in general. Their leaders are respected. Even their former employees talk about it with a hint of sentimental longing. On the list of ideal places to work, there are few that compare. During the first interview, the candidate starts to understand where the buzz has been coming from. The hiring manager describes the company the way you might describe Lewis and Clarke preparing to tame the western frontier. There are interesting characters whose lives have led them to this place. Business goals sound like plot twists. There are mountains to climb and rivers to cross. There are storms to weather, bears to hunt, and treasure to find. The hiring manager is visibly excited as she walks effortlessly through the seven categories of the company’s narrative. But not just anyone gets selected for this expedition. The employees of this company aren’t trying to be snobs; they’re just staying true to the story they’re following and they don’t want to compromise the plot. If you happen to be selected, it’s because destiny basically demands it. Instantly the candidate’s concept of work shifts up a level. It’s no longer just about what he can get out of it. It’s also about who he will become if he’s allowed to enter the story. He senses that working for this company will transform him. By the second and third interviews, the candidate has met most of the team and even been interviewed by them. Everyone he meets tells the exact same story he heard on the street and in the first interview. The story is growing on him. He realizes he needs to be part of a story like this to be fully satisfied in life. We all do. Finally, his first day on the job arrives, and the onboarding experience is more like being adopted than getting hired. He spends quality time with a facilitator who takes a small, new team through a curriculum explaining the story of their customer and how the company positions themselves as the guide in their customers’ story. Amazingly, the onboarding is more about the company’s customers than it is about the company itself. This organization loves their customers and is obsessed with seeing them win the day. Finally, the new employee discovers the secret. These people are here to serve a customer they love.

I’m not here to give you a road map. I’m here to tell you: this is what you should expect to see. If I gave you the map Lewis and Clark made, it would be pretty easy to get from here to the West Coast. That’s why everybody remembers the names Lewis and Clark and nobody remembers who read their map and took the trip the second time. “If you don’t think you can deal with this amount of uncertainty and failure,” he continued, “then wait for Lewis and Clark to deliver the map and you can be one of those people who does a good job following their lead. But if you want to be one of those people who do what these innovators did, be prepared, like they did, to fail and get frostbite and have people not make it. If you’re not prepared for that stuff, that’s okay: don’t do it. There is plenty of room in the world for other people. But if you do want to do it—if you want to go off and do really big things—be prepared for them to take way longer than you thought, cost way more than you expected, and be full of failures that are painful, embarrassing, and frustrating. If it’s not going to kill you, keep trudging through the mud.

During the third week in July, Lewis had two new rivers to name. Previously he and Clark had used the names of the men, of Sacagawea, of relatives, or of unusual features or incidents. Now that they were past the Great Falls, they changed their references. It was as if they suddenly recalled that they had some political responsibility here, that no politician can ever be flattered too much or too brazenly, and that nothing quite matches having a river named for you.

Of course, no antiwolf advocate points to the unrestricted slaughter and habitat reduction, not by wolves but by humans, that speeded the demise of those great herds of bison, deer, and elk reported by Lewis and Clark.

CAST: Bill Forman as the Whistler, mysterious teller of murder stories. Gale Gordon and Joseph Kearns as the Whistler in earliest shows. Marvin Miller as the Whistler while Forman was in the Army. Bill Johnstone as the Whistler, 1948. (Everett Clarke as the Whistler in a 1947 Chicago series.) Supporting casts from Hollywood’s Radio Row, players who appeared so often they were known as “Whistler’s children”: Cathy and Elliott Lewis, Joseph Kearns, Betty Lou Gerson, Wally Maher, John Brown, Hans Conried, Gerald Mohr, Lurene Tuttle, Donald Woods, Gloria Blondell, John McIntire, Jeanette Nolan, Frank Lovejoy, Jeff Chandler, Joan Banks, Mercedes McCambridge.

Your relatives, and mine too, are all dead.

whiskey. The chiefs were “exceedingly fond of it, they took up an empty bottle, Smelted it, and made maney Simple jestures and Soon began to be troublesom.” Clark

The best computer science students at Stanford were some of the best computer science students anywhere. Under Clark they gathered together into a new, potent force. ‘The difference was phenomenal, for me. I don’t know how many people around me noticed. But my God I noticed. The first manifestation was when all of these people started coming up and wanting to be part of my project.’ That

Someone once said that the best technology is indistinguishable from magic. Clark now had the best magic act in Silicon Valley. The best magic act attracted many of the best engineers. In the Valley it often did. The Valley had given engineers a place where they could make their living outside the enormous gray corporations that expected them to conform. It

Clark had invented the technology, bet his career on it, and been right. He had attracted the most talented engineers in Silicon Valley to his company, and they in turn created the most talented computers.

The sensors measured everything that Clark could think to measure, including the pressure on the engine. They passed these measurements up to the programmable logic controllers. The