Category Archives: “From the desk of our Blog Editor”

The US-Dakota War of 1862: Ethnic Strife or the Political Economy of War?

Ta-Oyate-Duta (His Red Nation) or Little Crow as he is more widely known, reluctant leader of the 1862 Dakota-US War

As Dakota people, 1862 may be our most important origin story today. Throughout Dakota country, we refer daily to 1862 whether at family gatherings, at community events, anywhere we gather and talk. It is always there even when we are silent.

Certainly, “traditional” creation stories that set out values for living, narrate our common history, cohere us as a people with a common moral framework, and tie us to a sacred landbase are important. But the tragic events and narrative of 1862 are for many of us arguably more crucial today. We Dakota people got to where we are in the early 21st century because of what has been known in mainstream historiography as “the Dakota Conflict of 1862.” A full-blown war from the perspective of Dakota historians and community members, 1862 re-circumscribed present-day Dakota geography, political economy, family relations, governance, and identity. It was the moment when our ancestors’ dispossession from our ancestral lands—from the life-giving rivers in what is today southern Minnesota—was crystallized. Pushing back violently against the greed of traders and violation of treaties, starvation, forced marches, prison camps, and a mass execution ensued for Dakota people. This marked a bloody re-mapping of Dakota life.

And when I say that 1862 figures prominently in how we understand what it is to be Dakota, I need to emphasize that we Dakota do not acquire our understanding of who we are in relation to 1862 by reading the necessarily narrow works of mainstream historians. The various Dakota communities throughout the upper Midwest and parts of Canada since 1862 have lived a history largely untreated in the scholarly literature. My understanding of this event came only later from published histories. My foundational knowledge came from narratives handed down from my late great-grandfather, Felix Heminger. His great-grandfather was Ta-oyate-duta, the reluctant 1862 leader. Today, my mother, my aunts and uncles, and many other extended family members on both the Flandreau and Lake Traverse Reservations in South Dakota and in Minnesota Dakota communities continue to keep the stories. More recently, Dakota historian Waziyatawin Angela Wilson and her relative Wahpetunwin Carolynn Schommer published what I would call a Dakota standpoint treatment of this history: Remember This! Dakota Decolonization and the Eli Taylor Narratives (University of Nebraska Press, 2005). When I tell my daughter and others about 1862, it is Dakota thinkers that I cite first, both published and traditional community historians. I keep in mind that non-Dakota historians’ accounts of this event are not unimportant. They are crucial, but they tell stories that leave much out and which take for granted the inevitability of the U.S., and of Minnesota. They conflate the land with those polities. We Dakota do not make such a conflation.

This year is the 150th anniversary of the war and the hanging of the 38 Dakota warriors (they are simply “the 38” to us) in Mankato, the day after Christmas 1862. The Minneapolis Star Tribune is doing a 6 part series (today is day 3) on the 1862 War. The Tribune’s very description of this series as being about “war” and not “conflict” reflects how our Dakota standpoints seem to be changing dominant terminology and concepts. But only so much. The series is also tagged as being about the “darkest chapter in Minnesota’s past.” For Dakota people fighting to defend their land and peoples, the new state of Minnesota could be seen as an invader in the same way that greedy traders and government bureaucrats who peddled soon-to-be violated treaties were seen as intruders. The State of Minnesota like the United States is not forever, was not inevitable, is not synonymous with the land. These are relatively new sets of institutions, laws, and cultural practices that “settled,” “invaded,” “colonized” (which is your term of preference?) a place in which the institutions, laws, and cultural practices of other peoples were already established.

I’ve only watched Part I of the Star Tribune series thus far, and I am not sure what I think yet. I see the first video as portraying the war too much as the result of ethnic strife that happened equally on both sides, a sort of narrative in which the liberal multi-culturalism we supposedly enjoy today had not yet emerged. I worry that such a telling leaves the door open for the politically and intellectually limp conclusion that our embrace of multi-culturalism can save the day. But I will watch the entire series with the hope that a serious accounting is taken of the violation of treaties, and the theft and plunder of an already settled, and not empty land.

At our annual Oak Lake Writers’ Society retreat week before last, fellow member Gabrielle Tateyuskanskan (Sisseton-Wahpeton Oyate citizen, poet, and artist) called for 1862 to be analyzed from a perspective of the political economy of war. Dakota and European descendents, she reminded us, were already heavily entangled through marriage and family at the time of the War. It wasn’t about Indians and whites who were friendly to one another and those who were hostile, but people were already family. Family helps family. That would explain why there were many complicated relations between whites and Indians “on the ground” during those violent days. Gabrielle’s point is not that there was no racism as we term it today, but that a too-strong lens of ethnic or racial strife blocks our ability to see who was really gaining from the 1862 War. For example, what were the interests of the big capitalists in the Twin Cities? What did they gain? Gabrielle ties the politics of the 1862 War to the political economy of war more broadly. She makes 1862 highly relevant to our analyses today of the perpetual wars that the U.S. wages all over the world as it attempts to grow (or stop the collapse of) its empire with corporations at the heart of that.

I am praying for a Dakota graduate student to come along and write that dissertation.

—–Kim TallBear


(Postscript: On August 18, the day Ta-oyate-duta declared war, Oak Lake Writers’ Society members will submit pieces of writing to this Web site for an on-line treatment of that event or contemporary manifestations of that history. Keep an eye out for forthcoming posts.)

“Survival Horror and Other Colonial Fantasies: American Indians, Video Games, and Popular Genres”: A Conversation with Jodi Byrd

Craig Howe and Gabrielle Tateyuskanskan

On the third day of the Oak Lake 2012 retreat, University of Illinois Associate Professor of American Indian Studies, Jodi Byrd (Chickasaw) led a fascinating session by this name. We got down to analytical business pretty quickly and discussed how the zombie/demon/monster narrative, along with Christianity, is a founding myth of the United States. Our tribal writers, most of whom work with more traditional genres (and I don’t necessarily mean “traditional” in the tribal sense here), nonetheless were very lively participants in Jodi’s session.

She explained the links between such narratives, both in film and in (video) gaming and how Indians get designated as monsters. Alternately Indians get erased and the landscape gets represented as empty in many such works. These are ways in which they resonate with more traditional forms, including captivity narratives and westerns, for example. She noted that a surprising number of video games have Indian motifs of both violence and erasure. She cited a game called Prey that features the “agnosia” she spoke of yesterday—a term she borrows from neurological science, a form of blindness in which one’s eyes can see but one cannot comprehend what one sees. In this game a Cherokee named Domasi “Tommy” Tawodi traverses a treacherous landscape to defend the land from invaders from space, aliens. As Jodi points out, “the use of ‘prey’ is a double entendre of savage Indians on the one hand, and the fact that the invading aliens have upended the food chain and surpassed humans at the top.” Jodi argues that it is incomprehensible that the character Tommy could be defending the land from invaders from Europe, from colonialists. I asked what demographic creates games. Jodi responded that the majority of game developers are white and Asian males. Again, agnosia: Colonial violence and history—even what one sees before one’s eyes—cannot be comprehended. Overall, I think our writers found this a useful analytical intervention. Gabrielle Tateyuskanskan noted a slightly different—perhaps related problem. In mainstream classrooms Indian students “analyze in silence” the dominant narratives we’re fed, for example, of Indians as consorting with faeries (i.e. in Peter Pan) and therefore as not real, or Indians as absent from a landscape in which historically there was tremendous encounter and violence (e.g. Little House on the Prairie).

A lively discussion ensued around Jodi’s intellectual challenge in this area: If popular  genre—science fiction, fantasy, and horror—are part of how settler colonialism processes its history and its role in this place, what then are the implications for us as Native writers taking up this genre? And what are the implications for how we take this up? Jodi asks, “Are we stuck with realism [and I presume she meant, the decolonial work we do here in the material realm], or can we also decolonize imagination?” We’re really skilled in American Indian Studies (AIS), she notes, at talking about the western and its role in the colonial narrative, but now we have all of these newer forms that now have more popular influence than that form. And Native writers are taking them up. She argues that all vampire and zombie stories are essentially captivity stories—that essentially the captive gets infected or contaminated and transformed. She also notes that the zombie narrative when it emerged with George Romero in the late 1960s was—lit critics have argued—a critique of whiteness. The zombies, pale and (un)dead, represented the advancing infection of whiteness. But she argues that the zombie narrative has flipped to where whiteness takes control of it in the 21st century. The zombie becomes invader, terrorist, the infectious agent that must be controlled, contained, and wiped out. The zombie’s subjectivity has flipped since its first emergence in the popular U.S. American imagination from a critique of whiteness to now being subjected to the nationalist authority of whiteness.  I am no longer slightly embarrassed that I love zombie films. There is apparently so much in them for an intellectual to love.

Our regular co-mentor Elizabeth Cook-Lynn seemed less convinced, or perhaps she was just playing devil’s advocate when she asked “Why is it that Native writers are taking all of this up? And what are the implications?” Jodi added, that we should think about whether taking up these new forms is “a mark of assimilation, or does it help decolonize the imagination?” My fellow Oak Lakers are much more erudite fiction readers than I am. I read mostly academic writing and hardly ever fiction. Yet it seems to me that taking up science fiction, fantasy, and horror, given their pervasive influence in popular culture, is not fundamentally different from how our forebears first took up the novel, the short story, and the poem, or from how my fellow indigenous academics and I take up academic forms of writing. Jodi cited a Canadian Anishinaabeg writer, Drew Hayden Taylor, who entangles in a young adult gothic novel form the vampire story with a story of European/indigenous contact and the Anishinaabeg Windigo story.  She argues that to take up this genre is to take control of it in a way that centers indigenous experience and knowledges.

Finally, I need to acknowledge the excellent catering and hospitality extended to us by the good people at Irene’s  by Julie Cafe on Main Street in Hendricks, Minnesota. They cater our meals during the Oak Lake retreat week and allow us to use their cafe in the afternoons after closing when the heat gets to be too much out at the lodge. Their food is delicious!

the view from downtown Hendricks, Minnesota


Our caterers in Hendricks, Minnesota

2012 Retreat Sessions on Indigenous Methodologies & Writers’ Block

LtoR: members Deanna Stands, Karen Pratt, and Tasi Livermont; mentor Jodi Byrd

The Oak Lake Writers’ Society (OLWS) is holding our annual retreat again this late July and early August out at South Dakota State University’s Oak Lake Field Station near White, South Dakota. We come together for five days of conversation, writing time, and a Thursday evening reading that draws folks from Brookings, home of South Dakota State University, who are interested in Native American literature and the humanities.

Our writers’ group is a mix of academics from state universities and tribal colleges, high school teachers, teachers working with youth in the criminal “justice” system, retirees, students, and activists—all members of Oceti Sakowin peoples, in English, the “Sioux Nation.” Our conversations range far and wide. We encourage and challenge one another. Some of us have more expertise dealing with the hierarchies and challenges of higher education, some of us more expertise dealing with the rigors of tribal politics, some of us more expertise in areas of traditional cultural production. But we are all “tribal voices” (to emphasize Cook-Lynn’s notion that it is necessary for such voices  to engage key narratives and issues) within our broader cultural group. This is perhaps the chief thing I appreciate about this group in which I think it is safe to say we each feel challenged and nurtured: our diversity, our different life and professional choices, and our general tolerance for one another alongside our commitment to promoting Oceti Sakowin standpoints on history; contemporary tribal life; social justice and environmental issues; local, regional, and world events.

Today we had two great conversations. Our mentor this year, University of Illinois American Indian Studies (AIS) Associate Professor Jodi Byrd (Chickasaw Nation of Oklahoma) (co-mentor with Elizabeth Cook-Lynn, our always mentor), sparked lively discussions about indigenous epistemologies in critical writing, and strategies for dealing with writers’ block.

On the indigenous epistemologies front, we discussed and debated the idea of the Great American Indian novel (or great tribal-specific novel), a conversation that was a bit over this social scientist-turned-creative-prose-writer’s head so I will not do it justice. Does such a genre exist? Is it an important literary form to be articulated? Should it be articulated and theorized at that pan-Native level or at people specific levels? (Comments are welcome from other writers who partook in that conversation who might clarify this summary.) Jodi noted that the (great) American novel was symbiotic (my word, not hers) with the rise of U.S. nationalism, a form of literary nationalism. This comment caused our group to think hard then on the merits of the great American Indian novel or tribal specific forms in the cause of tribal nationalisms. To quote our mission statement, our group exists for the very purpose of preserving and defending Oceti Sakowin cultures, oral traditions, and histories and to reaffirm our peoples’ political statuses. We seek to regulate and transform representations of our peoples and histories that are inaccurate and damaging. Thus we produce and promote works across genres in a manner that will bring about a greater understanding of our cultures, legacies, and lands.

Joel Waters and Tasi Livermont. We love this pic!

I’m not sure we came to any conclusions. As someone who does social studies of science and who thinks about the intersections of scientific knowledge production, colonialism, and Native American governance, I was reminded in this conversation of the symbiotic rise of scientific narratives and methods with federal policy and nationalist politics in the 19thcentury. These things are all connected. My fellow writers, almost all of whom have more knowledge about fiction than I do, reminded me in their animated conversation of my biological scientist friends with their will to categorize literary forms into genres, then in other moments they wrestled with the inevitable smearing of genres and fields that we encounter today.

The writers’ block conversation in the afternoon also revealed a key insight. As Native writers, we decided our blocks are less internal than external. We felt we have no end of topics to take up from our tribal standpoints (this conversation also came on the heels of a discussion about Said’s term “contrapuntal” thinking—that one must read against the larger imperial context that informs the emergence of text). Rather, for us, the challenge is often to narrow our work sufficiently for the piece at hand. And we struggle to find language and terms that are culturally/tribally grounded but yet also speak to non-native readers. A final key point of debate was how much do we care about speaking to non-tribal audiences and why or why not? What is the function of speaking to tribal audiences, and what is the function of speaking to non-tribal folks.

Whenever pertinent, I like to end blog posts with some local flavor. With no internet out at the Oak Lake Field Station (thank goodness so we get some work done!) I needed to drive into town to blog. I write from the Brownstone Restaurant and Lounge tonight at 313 Main Avenue in Brookings. Nice décor (lots of dark wood, pretty bar, good music streaming) and nice food: steaks, pastas, other lovely meals and an extensive beer and wine (some of it organic!) list. Free wifi to boot and friendly competent staff. It’s definitely recommended.

Mabel Picotte, 1st prize winner in SD Poetry Society Contest

The South Dakota Poetry Society Contest winners are in (drum roll….) and our own Oak Lake Writer, Mabel Picotte, won first place for her poem, “Lips Like Strawberries.” Mabel’s voice is honest (I would never say brutally) and fearless in a way one might not expect upon first meeting her. The poem below reflects so much of what makes Mabel an accomplished writer and an accomplished human. It is gentle, but strong, generous in its imagery, and thoughtful. Join Mabel and other winners at the historic Goss Opera House in Watertown this Sunday Jan 15th, 12:00-4:00 p.m., for a reading of winning poems.

Mabel Picotte

The scent of Jasmine
hung heavily
the night I got drunk on Beringer
and blew out love
with the smoke a Marlboro makes
“There are at least two sides to everything”
you said
with lips like strawberries
“I would have never known what was in the front
if I didn’t try the back.”
The wooden steps
became solid, cold
as I pondered the thought
shifting restlessly
to find the softness
that once lifted me outside
my body
killing my glass
my fingers lifted to right
a curly strand
instead I found them
poised mid-air
longing to feel the smooth brown
skin of your cheek
out-stretched and shaking
I choked twice on
imaginings of Lot’s flight
that sparked behind my eyes
at the soft pat of my hand
dropping to my knee
your eyes met mine in pure joy
filling my glass while
calling me your “Kick a hole in the sky girl”
I imagined dancing with you
in the moonlight
but how could I compete
with that “other side”
so silently and uncontrollably
I watched
those strawberry colored lips part
those sweet windows into bliss
press against his
-the maleness I could never be
Inhaling deep
I blew out love on
both your manly faces

Oak Lake Writer Gabrielle Tateyuskanskan featured in Diane Wilson’s Beloved Child: A Dakota Way of Life

We are pleased to announce the publication of Beloved Child: A Dakota Way of Life (Minnesota Historical Society Press, 2011), edited by Diane Wilson, which features a chapter on Oak Lake Writer Gabrielle Tateyuskanskan’s activism and includes her poem “Star Spirit.” YouTube features a video of Gabrielle reading from the collection at a book launch event at the St. Paul Episcopal Church also hosted by Birchbark Books in Minneapolis.

The blurb from the book describes its scope: Far greater even than the loss of land, or the relentless coercion to surrender cultural traditions, the deaths of over six hundred children by the spring of 1864 were an unbearable tragedy. Nearly one hundred and fifty years after the U.S.-Dakota War of 1862, Dakota people are still struggling with the effects of this unimaginable loss.”Among the Dakota, the Beloved Child ceremony marked the special, tender affection that parents felt toward a child whose life had been threatened. In this moving book, author Diane Wilson explores the work of several modern Dakota people who are continuing to raise beloved children: Gabrielle Tateyuskanskan, an artist and poet; Clifford Canku, a spiritual leader and language teacher; Alameda Rocha, a boarding school survivor; Harley and Sue Eagle, Canadian activists; and Delores Brunelle, an Ojibwe counselor. each of these humble but powerful people teaches children to believe in the “genius and brilliance” of Dakota culture as a way of surviving historical trauma.Crucial to true healing, Wilson has learned, is a willingness to begin with yourself. Each of these people works to transform the effects of genocide, restoring a way of life that regards our beloved children as wakan, sacred.

The Minneapolis StarTribune Review of the volume notes Gabrielle’s contribution:

Another Dakota, Gaby Tateyuskanskan, embraces nonviolent protest as a vehicle to change the way Native Americans are treated. “It’s easy to be angry; it’s easy to lash out,” notes Gaby, “It’s so much harder to … [compassionately] teach somebody or influence somebody to change what they’re doing.” Dakota like Gaby and Sue Eagle, and others that Wilson describes, pursue healing by seeking to understand their own family’s past and the trauma suffered by the Dakota. Wilson explains that they aren’t attacking the dominant western culture, but they’re consciously embracing the Dakota way, which is to get close to the land, to use oral traditions, to acknowledge the self-loathing that has been hard-wired into their brains, and to choose another, more compassionate way to define themselves

–Chuck Leddy, Minneapolis StarTribune, September 1, 2011

Oak Lake Writer Craig Howe featured on front page of Lakota Country Times for contributions in the humanities

The October 12, 2011 Lakota Country Times covered Craig Howe’s South Dakota Humanities Council (SDHC) Award for “extraordinary support of the humanities” in South Dakota. If you’re not a subscriber, you must wait 30 days to view the article in its entirety in the LCT archives. Or you can subscribe to the Lakota Country Times! One of our writers, Vi Waln, is editor of the paper.

But to get back to Craig’s award… he received it along with three other honorees during an October 8th awards ceremony at the South Dakota Festival of Books in Deadwood. (Other honorees include Linda Hasselstrom of Hermosa, South Dakota Magazine, and the City of Deadwood and the Deadwood Historic Preservation Commission). “All of the awardees have worked hard to provide support to the humanities in South Dakota,” Sherry DeBoer, executive director of the South Dakota Humanities Council, said. “From working to create the annual Festival of Books, to providing exceptional support for cultural advocacy for American Indians and South Dakota towns, these honorees are so deserving of the Distinguished Service in the Humanities award for 2011.”

SDHC explains that “Craig Howe has been involved with the South Dakota Humanities Council since 2001. He serves as a member of the American Indian Cultures Task Force, assisting to further SDHC’s involvement with the American Indian population in the state. SDHC has benefited from Howe’s advocacy of cultural programming centered on American Indian Studies as well as his contributions to several SDHC publications. Through his work, he has established the Center for American Indian Research and Native Studies, the organization sponsoring the SDHC endowed Teachers’ Institute since 2007.

Howe says of the honor, “For many years [SDHC] has provided exceptionally strong support for projects and programs that focus on American Indian studies and issues of importance to tribal communities. The humanities, particularly in today’s world, may seem to be a frivolous luxury, but I believe they are central to us becoming and being good citizens. Therefore it is a special honor to be recognized for my work in the humanities, and for that recognition to come from [SDHC].”

Sherry DeBoer (SDHC Executive Director), Craig Howe, Tom Dempster (SDHC Board of Directors)


End to a great weekend at the SD Festival of Books

I’m writing from Bully Blend’s Coffee & Tea in downtown Rapid City on a gray, pre-winter Sunday morning. About to catch a flight to Salt Lake City and then on to San Fran after a fascinating weekend back in the home state. Oak Lake Writers’ Web master Tasi Livermont and I, and our respective kids, Miles (10) and Carmen (9), bombed around the South Dakota Festival of Books in Deadwood this past Friday and Saturday with other Oak Lake Writers.

Carmen & Tasi Livermont @ SD Festival of Books

Also on hand were co-editors of our new volume, He Sapa Woihanble (2011, Living Justice Press) Craig Howe, Lydia Whirlwind Soldier, and Lanniko Lee. Along with poet Mabel Picotte, they hosted a panel and audience discussion Friday on the book’s production process and its cultural politics. Saturday morning, I was M.C. for a poetry reading featuring Ronya Hoblit, Lanniko Lee, Mabel Picotte, Deanna Stands, and Lydia Whirlwind Soldier reading pieces from He Sapa Woihanble. Co-mentor Elizabeth Cook-Lynn also did a very polished, politicized, and humorous as always poetry reading and commentary to a packed room at the Deadwood Public Library yesterday afternoon. (Even Miles and Carmen paid close attention. Carmen asked questions about colonization afterwards. Yeah, that’s right.) Oak Lake annual retreat organizer and institution-builder, Dr. Chuck Woodard from South Dakota State University also joined us at the festival.

C. Howe, M. Picotte, T. Livermont, K. TallBear, L. Whirlwind Soldier

Despite the constant drizzle in Deadwood, the festival was well attended and we sold some books! Last night (Saturday, October 8), there was a buffalo feed and South Dakota Humanities Council awards ceremony in the airy, vaulted-ceiling upstairs function room of the Deadwood Mountain Grand Casino. Craig Howe won an award for contributions to the humanities in South Dakota. Tasi was on hand to take photographs and will post them soon.

Time to hit the road. Almost finished with a large coffee with shot of espresso. If you’re ever in town Bully Blends roasts their own, Fair Trade. They’re at 908 Main Street, and they open early.

Oak Lake Writers Retreat Update (Tuesday)

Writing this blog entry feels a little like starting a free write. Where do I begin? Yesterday was the first full day of our annual retreat at the South Dakota State University Oak Lake Field Station and lodge. It was oppressively hot and humid.

Thankfully, we got a break today from the heat. To my eyes—I’ve lived away from South Dakota for years—a gorgeous storm blew through early this morning. The skies all around were lit by silent flashing lights and shattered by lightening. We didn’t get the 60 mph winds and hail that was on warning for the surrounding counties. But I fled my tent for the lodge anyway, and finished my night’s sleep under the safety of a roof (p.s. in late morning the winds did unstake my tent on its frame. It took a roll around the lodge grounds).

Back on topic: We had a lovely, comfortable afternoon today. The breeze was strong. In the high-ceilinged lodge amidst whirring fans, this year’s mentor, Gordon Henry, Professor and Director of Creative Writing in the Department of English at Michigan State University, directed a writing workshop session with an informal discussion centered around poems written by prominent Native American poets, including Ray Young Bear and Maurice Kenny. Younger, less published writers from around the state of South Dakota sat alongside older, sometimes widely published writers. Conversations revolved around analyses of style and language choice—in particular the intersections between western literary forms and whether or not the writers achieved convincingly tribal voices that seemed culturally-based in ways that reflected relationships with particular landscapes.

Gordon Henry leading a workshop

Henry also spoke about the way that writing practice might come and go amidst the other things that we all need to do in life. Indeed, our group, old and young alike, is populated with teachers, professors, students, a journalist and community organizer, an architect, a psychologist, a factory worker/daydreamer/rhymer, artists, parents and grandparents, and the list goes on. Most us live and work in tribal communities. When Henry encouraged people to keep writing it was within this broader understanding of the very full lives of our members. We also talked about the need to write in ways that can be spoken. And we strategized about the needs to do more readings and to create venues for literature readings in the state. After the afternoon session and just before dinner, the writers and mentors conversed informally in small groups, their conversations entwining literary, university, and tribal politics.

Tomorrow is our annual retreat reading and potluck out at the lodge. All of the participants will read poems or excerpts from longer pieces. The reading and meal draws a large and appreciative audience of academics, writers, teachers, and those interested in literature from South Dakota State University and the broader Brookings community. Our audience members also bring the food. We’ll post photos and a video of the reading soon.

Tasi Livermont working on the Oak Lake Writers Web page

Tired, but still working, blog administrator Tasi Livermont and I are here at this fantastic locally-owned coffee house in Brookings, Cottonwood Coffee, downtown on Main. We need the internet to work on the Web site, which goes live very soon. And we love the blended mochas. Not too sweet, extra shot of espresso. Life is good wired.