There’s a scene in Lonesome Dove where Joshua Deets, the Texas Ranger scout is talking to Gus. They’ve finally made it to Montana after a long, difficult journey driving cattle and horses (stolen) all the way from the Mexican border in Southwest Texas, and though the Montana Territory is beautiful (I concur) and all the other cowboys are in awe of the natural mountain splendor, especially after getting out of the hot, flat, dusty dump of Lonesome Dove, Texas, Deets is apprehensive. All the other men are happy they’ve finally made it to Montana, but not Deets. Of course, bad things happen right after this, and the Hollywood trope of the wise black guy who sees things everyone else is blind to, rides again.
Except for that scene, the made-for-TV movie doesn’t push the blacks are better trope too much. Anyway Deets (Danny Glover) is far less of a major character than Gus (Robert Duvall), Jake (Robert Urich), and Woodrow (Tommy Lee Jones).
I thought of Deets and his wisdom about not leaving home as I made the turn to the east out of Missoula. (I could have said, “As I drove north on the 93 out of Victor,” but you gotta kind of consider Missoula home if you are in the valley; bad-mouth it all you want but as long as you are wedded to the Costco, the Wallmart, all the specialty shops that have stuff unavailable in Ravalli [or at lower price], the work contracts you get up there, and for some of us in the Valley, the Griz [yay bread and circuses], Missoula is home too, kind of.)
I said to myself, “FCOL Shumway, why are you always on the run? You could have stayed put here for these last few weeks before warmer-weather work kicks in, and get the dang radio station in gear!” But this dreamer can’t help wanting to snoop around; and I’ve got an incurable case of wanderlust. The second-guessing of the trip subsided a bit as I enjoyed the drive and the view on the clear, dry I-90.
Two incidents at the start of this trip have also made me think about leaving home. Here in Livingston I met a woman from Bainbridge Island, west across the Sound from Seattle. She’s only been here four years, just as I’ve only been in the Bitterroot for coming up on three (unless you add my 7 months in 2020). I met her at the Lutheran church here in town. I was telling the lay pastor I was from Bellevue, east across the lake from Seattle. He said well have you met Dianne? “No, not yet.”
She was at the back of the church and I up front. She shouted, “Hi, I’m Dianne. I’m from Sea…Bainbridge Island.” I laughed and said I do that too. Sometimes I’ll say I’m from Seattle, and sometime I’ll say Bellevue, more specific and less likely to elicit the Montana sigh (ughhhh, another one), a reaction to the trigger word, Seattle. Dianne talked about how great Seattle used to be. I said, “Yeah, for one you could drive from anywhere to anywhere else in town and get there in less than fifteen minutes!” (a slight exaggeration but you get the idea.) She talked about how she loved to get on the ferry with her friends on a weekend and hit all the Seattle shops and blow all their money. “I can’t believe my mom would let us go. We were so young, but it was safe!” They’d go to The Bon, Nordstrom and finish at Frederick and Nelsons to have a Frango milkshake. “It’s a good thing we had round-trip tickets on the ferry, otherwise we wouldn’t get home.”
I waxed nostalgic with her, remembering when me and my Bellevue buddies would get on the bus and head to the big city ourselves. I remember going once in jr. high with Steve Wackenhut, popping into every skyscraper we could and riding up the elevators to the top floor, or as high as we could get. And then getting a burger delivered on the circular, toy train tracks at the Iron Horse cafe. Jr. high kids wandering the streets of Seattle, unsupervised? I’d guess this never happens today.
Speaking of Seattle, I had an encounter with a woman from Helena, where I was reminded I’m just an outsider.
I caught up to this lady and her beautiful dogs.
-Hey, can I take a picture of these two?
-Sure.
-What kind of dogs are they?
-Samoyeds.
-Are they friendly?
-Oh, very friendly. And they love attention.
-Wow. That’s the softest fur I’ve ever felt on a dog.
-Yeah. It helps they were recently groomed.
-Are you from around here?
-Yep. I’ve lived here a while. How about you, where are you from?
-I’m in the Bitterroot Valley now, but I’m originally from Seattle.
Her face darkened a bit. She didn’t answer. I said, “You must like it here in Helena.”
“Well, I was born in Montana. And I figure a person ought to live where they were born and raised.”
OK, lady, I got it. I should have stayed put in Seattle. I thought about going with the old line, “Hey, you go back far enough and we all came from somewhere else.” I thought, “She sure looks Japanese. I could ask her her roots,” but then I thought better of it. She might be Native American, and then what? heh.
Next: Zooey and the Helena Circus.
Dan, when you catch up to Zooey, ask him (yes, I said him) about his vote on HB371, which purported to outlaw the use of mRNA on humans in Montana. It went down to a resounding defeat, unfortunately. I just posted an article about it on my blog which you can read here.
https://poorrogersalmanac.com/2025/02/23/covid-a-modern-day-hydra/