{ "version": "https://jsonfeed.org/version/1", "title": "Letters from America on David Marsden", "icon": "https://avatars.micro.blog/avatars/2025/22/7092.jpg", "home_page_url": "https://davidmarsden.info/", "feed_url": "https://davidmarsden.info/feed.json", "items": [ { "id": "http://davidmarsden.micro.blog/2025/07/12/time-to-slope-off-from.html", "content_html": "

Time to slope 📷 off from the party.

\n\"A\n", "date_published": "2025-07-12T14:50:37+01:00", "url": "https://davidmarsden.info/2025/07/12/time-to-slope-off-from.html", "tags": ["Kids","Letters from America"] }, { "id": "http://davidmarsden.micro.blog/2025/07/07/happier-here-yeah-no-not.html", "content_html": "

Happier here, yeah? No, not really. Vertical 📷

\n\"A\n", "date_published": "2025-07-07T14:19:15+01:00", "url": "https://davidmarsden.info/2025/07/07/happier-here-yeah-no-not.html", "tags": ["Letters from America"] }, { "id": "http://davidmarsden.micro.blog/2025/06/04/a-bit-of-nostalgia-and.html", "content_html": "

A bit of nostalgia and one for the Pacific Wave Appreciation folks.

\n\"A\n", "date_published": "2025-06-04T13:36:31+01:00", "url": "https://davidmarsden.info/2025/06/04/a-bit-of-nostalgia-and.html", "tags": ["Letters from America"] }, { "id": "http://davidmarsden.micro.blog/1989/12/04/the-colorado-trail.html", "title": "The Colorado Trail", "content_html": "

I am rapt. Tight and warm in my sleeping bag, I stare out at the night sky. It is perfectly clear. My fellow hikers are nearby, and in the distance we can hear the sound of coyotes. They are neither barking nor howling, but something between the two, as if they are calling to one another. Their calls become louder.

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In the corner of my eye I can see our food, in white plastic bags, hanging from a tree. The coyotes are running, beating a path towards us. My heart races and pounds, with excitement and apprehension, and the effects of ascending so quickly to nine thousand feet. My head aches and I feel sick. Tomorrow, we go higher.

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The conifers which shelter us are twenty feet tall. Their tops dance in the wind against a backdrop of stars on a moonlit stage. There goes a shooting star! It is too much. My head spins.

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Sleep is not easy. There is a low rumbling, like distant thunder. Then, as if the whole mountain is collapsing, a gust of wind sweeps through the trees, passing us by. It sounds like a train. The gusts become stronger and more frequent; and we are lying on the tracks of the main line. This is a ghost train! The trees bend while I lie rigid, waiting for the crash.

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I rise with the sun.

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The hike up, the next day, is long and arduous in driving winds. “Wail winds wail/ All along, along, along/ The Colorado Trail” (“The Colorado Trail” lines 5-8). The wisps of cloud in the morning sky have become huge and dark. Powdery snow swirls around us, then bites into our faces, as we struggle with freezing hands to set up the tents. The slightest effort saps all our strength and leaves us gasping for air. This, in turn, increases our loss of water with sweat and exhalation.

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Once inside, we attempt to melt snow for drinking and cooking food: It takes about two hours to produce one litre. (We had estimated that each person–four in all–needed four litres per day. Even with two stoves, it would be impossible.)

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I have no appetite, but manage to eat something. My legs and feet are cold.

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We try to get some sleep. Although it is warm in our bags, the fierce wind outside makes it impossible. My throat, mouth and lips are dry while the insides of the tent are wet with condensation; as this freezes, it is spat back into our faces by the slapping canvas which seems about to be hoisted away from us at any moment.

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The night is endless. I am waiting for a train to take me out of here, but I know they will not stop to pick up passengers. They are expresses, and their speed is urgent. They are delivering the news: And the news is History. We will not climb the peak. We will go down.

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Works Cited

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Anonymous. “The Colorado Trail.” In S. Barnet, M. Burman, & W. Berto (Eds), An Introduction to Literature (9th ed.). Boston: Scott, Foresman & Company. (1989). p.411.

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\n", "date_published": "1989-12-04T17:01:00+01:00", "url": "https://davidmarsden.info/1989/12/04/the-colorado-trail.html", "tags": ["Longform","Letters from America"] }, { "id": "http://davidmarsden.micro.blog/1989/11/09/multicultural-societies.html", "title": "Multi-Cultural Societies ", "content_html": "

Mark Twain once informed a preacher visiting Hartford that every word of a sermon the latter had just delivered was in a book at Twain’s home. Concerned about the apparent plagiarism, the preacher was only too grateful to receive the book in a parcel at his hotel. It was a dictionary (Wister ziii).

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As one of Twain’s characters, Huckleberry Finn, said of his creator, he told the truth, mainly (Twain 441). Twain’s practical joke could be thought of as a compliment. The preacher expressed his thoughts in a symbolic code which Twain and others could comprehend; by sharing a common language they were able to share ideas.

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Although words are defined objectively, often their use is subjective. People learn language not from dictionary definitions, but from their experience of situations in which it is used. Generally, the words first learnt by a child are nouns describing concrete objects (the meaning of the word is obvious). The understanding of abstractions is more difficult, and, perhaps because of this, its value is emphasized in Western culture. In other societies, it may be of greater importance correctly to describe a feature of the environment. Similarly, a person-oriented approach may be more civilized than one that is materialistic.

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Just as cultural values differ, so do languages. But, whereas languages can be translated into other tongues, values remain unaltered. It could be argued, therefore, that true translation is impossible; at best, authenticity is compromised. Ideally, it seems, a language is needed which is common to all.

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The modern reality, of different ethnic groups within one society (but speaking different languages and living separate lives), is a problem not only of intolerance, but also of ignorance. It is not enough simply to be aware of differences. They must be understood in terms of the beliefs they represent. This can be achieved only through experience, preferably personal, of that way of life, and its language from which it is inseparable.

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That it is the speakers of minority languages who must learn the language of the majority is a matter of practicality. That they should suffer educationally or socially in relation to their peers is due to cultural biases against them, the effects of which often are compounded by financial poverty. But if such minorities were to decide to opt out they would surely become the objects of greater hostility than that which they already face; the difference from the norm which they represent is proportional to the fear and hatred they induce in others. Alternatively, intregration with the mainstream would further dilute their tradition.

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It is possible, and it is certainly necessary, to live in a multi-cultural society. But as the differences become greater so do the problems that come with them. In choosing between separation and homogeneity of cultures, people usually do not have the advantage that Huck Finn has: Faced with the prospect of adoption and “sivilization” by Aunt Sally, Huck knows that he must move on, he can’t stand it. But then, he’s been there before (Twain 650).

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Works Cited

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Twain, M. “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.” In The Family Mark Twain. (1988). New York: Dorset Press. pp. 441-650.

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Wister, O. “In Homage to Mark Twain.” In The Family Mark Twain. (1988). New York: Dorset Press. pp. xiii-xxiv.

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Works Consulted Bloom, A. D. (1987). The Closing of the American Mind. New York: Simon and Schuster.

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\n", "date_published": "1989-11-09T17:50:00+01:00", "url": "https://davidmarsden.info/1989/11/09/multicultural-societies.html", "tags": ["Longform","Letters from America"] } ] }