Some musings

During my time with the cannibals of northern Indiana (mostly a meat and potatoes kind of people), I never ceased to be amazed at their use of turmeric. I know, I know, this is northern Indiana, not India, but, to a family, their use of this yellow root far surpassed anything I had ever seen.

One such use involved the groom on his wedding day. Said groom was rubbed head to foot with the pungent spice before the vows were taken. While the unobserved eye might think the ceremony might end in some sort of Black Widowesk mating ritual, the sad reality was much more mundane: they already smelled like cumin.

The tragic story of these remarkable survivors came to an abrupt end after an uneasy truce that was maintained for 57 years with the neighboring Amish communities was broken by a rogue buggy driver who subsequently was punished by shunning for an hour. The tribes fought valiantly to build their casino, but in the end, lost both their spice and their lives.

Now, as the waves of Lake Michigan roll over the remains of America's only known cannibal settlement, one has to wonder what might have been, what could have been, and what WAS I eating?