Do words, language and images matter?
I grew up with a father and friends who were hunters. Hunting is a way of staying connected to the land and procuring food, at least that’s what it was when I was growing up. My father rented a meat locker, we ate venison, and Mom and I each got a leather coat, gloves and matching purses. Mine was a buckskin fringe jacket, the envy of my Minneapolis cousins. I wore it for five years, then my brother wore it for another five years. One thing we did not do: Joke about guns or shooting someone.
