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Ethnomusicologist Frances Densmore recording the music of a Blackfoot chief onto a phonograph, 1916.
That’s not just “a” chief. He’s not just some random nameless Niitsitapi. His name is Ninastoko. He was a warrior in his younger days and died in 1942. He was frequently in DC as a representative and negotiator of the entire Blackfoot Confederacy. Though he was born in Alberta, he lived on the Blackfeet (Amskaapipikani) reservation in Montana and lived near Browning.
In this picture, he is not recording music, but rather interpreting traditional songs into Plains Indian Sign Language (although the caption that usually accompanies this picture says otherwise). It’s because of him that we have Glacier National Park (if he hadn’t negotiated that land for a National Park, the government would have taken it from us and let White settle it)
(via scinerds)Source: adelicate-life
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Who was I back then? Just a 17 year old kid from the Bronx with dreams of becoming a scientist. And somehow, the world’s most famous astronomer found time to invite me to Ithaca in upstate New York to spend a Saturday with him.
I remember that snowy day like it was yesterday. He met me at the bus stop and showed me his laboratory at Cornell university. Carl reached behind his desk and inscribed this book for me. ‘For Neil, a future astronomer. - Carl’.
At the end of the day he drove me back to the bus station. The snow was falling harder. He wrote his home phone number on a scrap of paper and he said ‘If the bus can’t get back through, call me, spend a night at my home with my family’. I already knew I wanted to become a scientist, but that afternoon, I learned from Carl, the kind of person I wanted to become. He reached out to me, and to countless others, inspiring so many of us to study, teach and do science. Science is a cooperative enterprise spanning the generations. It’s the passing of a torch, from teacher to student to teacher. A community of minds reaching back to antiquity and forward to the stars."
I don’t believe in guilty pleasures.
Why would you ever feel bad about something that makes you happy?
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Obsessing about how great things could have been only blinds you to how great things actually are.
Philosophy isn’t about what you know, it’s about what you can bullshit your professor into believing for 15 pages.