The Little Big Horn

This blog is supposed to be fun and games, but the reasons behind us moving here and for my a bit early midlife crises are not. We all have someone who means the world to us, and for me it was my dad. He passed away a year and a half ago, after a short time of being sick, and I got to enjoy the hell with the remaining family members and I getting along even better than before.

The thing about my father was that he was always handing out lessons about life and us humans, and the battle of the Little Big Horn was used as my favorite example when I was five. It was just about all I wanted to talk about so naturally finding myself 40 miles from it by accident was strange.

I rarely had any reception on this trip, but this time I got a message through to ask my spouse if it was wise for me to go there, and the answer was to go. So, I found the balls, drove in, and waited in the car trying not to cry because of all the memories of understanding the differences in our cultures just rolled over me.

The battle of the LBH represents to me the battle of understanding different ways and the will to crush others for their different ways, the concept of freedom and how hard it is to us all to accept.

I listened the tour guide for a while trying to get the grips of myself, and to understand that he explains it all differently just for the cultural differences, but after a while I just choose to hop into Peter and get the sarcasm flowing again. So here is the worst of all the pictures taken ever. The blondie from Europe on a tomb of a destroyer of ways of life, and a Bimmer, giving us Europeans two points in this picture as the accepting and nice.

I thought the no stepping on the grave was an extra nice touch.


As a place it's unreal. You can drive down this beautiful road, see wild horses running around, and feel the ancient ways of life around you, and I for one felt tiny.

 It was there and I went all poetic about the life it has seen.

Peter wanted to show horse power horse power, I had to spend serious time finding out the right buttons to shut him up. That ended up well but no extra horses were added after this shot to Peter or my fridge.

 If any of you ever have a chance, just go. It is beautiful and a place that makes one think life and love, generations before us, and the lessons in life we have yet to master.

Same caption as above

 To these I did not step on.

America is weird. You expect a lot of different things, but like this flower beside a road that was build to go around the graves, it too seemed to be out of place like I was.

Bravely I took a picture of the native grave memorial, but that I felt was too personal to share with you. Then Lups was on her last leg of the way back home. Well, so I thought.