This is Mary Fields, not Harriet Tubman you ignorant asses!!!

MaryFieldsnotHarrietTubman
Meet “Stagecoach” Mary Fields (1832-1914), the first African American mail carrier (male or female) in the United States

Mary Fields began her life as a slave in Tennessee in 1832, the exact date is unknown. Mary’s mother Susanna was the personal servant to the plantation owner’s wife, Mrs. Dunnes. The plantation wife also had a daughter who was born within two weeks of Mary, and named Dolly. Mrs. Dunne allowed the children to play together. Over the years Mary was taught to read and write and the two girls became best friends. At sixteen, Dolly was sent to boarding school in Ohio and Mary was left all alone.

Mary’s father worked in the fields on the Dunnes’ farm. He was sold after Mary was born. Mary’s mother wanted her daughter to have a last name, so since her father Buck worked in the fields, her mother decided her last name should be Fields. So thus Mary Fields came to be. After Mary’s mother passed away, Mary became the head of the household at the young age of fourteen.

After Dolly went away to boarding school, The Civil War began. The slaves were left to fend for themselves. It was during this time that she learned many life survival skills. She learned how to garden, raise chickens and practice medicine with natural herbs.

Around the age of 30 Mary heard from her dear friend Dolly. Dolly was now a nun and was renamed Sister Amadaus. The Sister asked Mary to join her at a convent in Ohio. Mary immediately began her twenty-day trip from Tennessee to Ohio. Mary remained with the Ursuline Sisters for many years – even when Dolly relocated to the St. Peter’s Mission in Montana. Mary never married and she had no children. The nuns were her family. She protected the nuns.

Mary wanted to follow her friend to Montana, but was told it was too remote and rustic. However, that all changed when Mother Amadaus became ill with pneumonia and wrote to Mary asking for her support and healing. Mary wasted no time and departed for Montana by stagecoach in 1885. At 53 years old Mary started her new life in Montana. Mary helped nurse Mother Amadaus back to health. The sisters were all in amazement of this tough black woman. Mary was no stranger to rolling a cigar, shooting guns and drinking whiskey. She grew fresh vegetables that were enjoyed by the Sisters and the surrounding community. Mary was forced to leave her beloved mission and the Sisters after a shooting incident. Mary shot in self-defense, and was found innocent, but had to find a new home.

Wells Fargo had the mail contract during that time and was looking for someone for the Great Falls to Fort Benton route to deliver the U.S. Mail. It was a rough and rugged route and would require a person of strong will and great survival skills to maneuver the snowy roads and high winds. Mary immediately applied at the ripe age of 60 years old. It was rumored that she could hitch a team of horses faster than the boys half her age and due to her toughness, she was hired! Mary became the first African American mail carrier in the United States and the second woman. Mary was proud of the fact that her stage was never held up. Mary and her mule Moses, never missed a day and it was during this time that she earned the nickname of “Stagecoach,” for her unfailing reliability.

The townspeople adopted Mary as one of their own. They celebrated her birthday twice a year since she didn’t know the exact date of her real birthday. Mary Fields was known as Black Mary and Stagecoach Mary. She was considered an eccentric even in these modern times. She was six feet tall and over 200 pounds. By the time she was well known in Central Montana, she had a pet eagle, a penchant for whiskey, baseball (which was a new sport at the time) and a heart as big as the gun she was famous for carrying. Mary wore a buffalo skin dress that she made herself – you might say she drew attention wherever she went – even in a small western pioneer town. Mary was a local celebrity and her legend and tales of her adventures were known by surrounding communities and neighboring states.

Gary Cooper (the actor) had his mail delivered by Mary as a young boy in Cascade County. As an adult, Cooper wrote an article about her for Ebony Magazine in 1955 in which he wrote, “Born a slave somewhere in Tennessee, Mary lived to become one of the freest souls ever to draw a breath, or a .38.” He also wrote of her kindness and his admiration for her. The famous western artists Charlie Russell drew a sketch of her. It was a pen and ink sketch of a mule kicking over a basket of eggs with Mary looking none to happy.

Mary retired her post in 1901 and passed away in 1914. She is buried at Highland Cemetery at St. Peter’s Mission. Her grave is marked with a simple cross.

The cost of complacency

Not for the squeamish but, it needs to be seen. Reposting this from Kenny Lane’s “Knuckledraggin” blog. It’s an incident from 2013. Not one of ours. And again, credit goes to Kenny Lane for posting this.

GM

Knuckledraggin My Life Away Part I: 12 Gauge birdshot damage

I got an email the other night from Steve and somewhere down the line he mentioned being shot with a 12 gauge loaded with birdshot at close range and how devastating it was.
Then he sent pictures and the story. Holy shit.
Story first:

Thats my left shoulder. Story is: my son in law and I were at the range, and he HAD to have me shoot his AK47. Now, I believe they should be allowed under the 2A, but i like my .22, .410, and LOVE my .12 GA due to its versatility of rounds. SO. While I shot his AK47 (which WAS pretty cool) he went through some shells on my shotgun, going from slugs to birdshot, to see what each round could do. The wives called and told us boys it was time to come home, and I pulled the clip and emptied the chamber, and loaded his AK in the trunk, noticing my shotgun was already stored. When I got home late that evening, I grabbed the shotgun to take it out, and the trigger caught on the jack handle. Result: BIG BOOM. and a birdshot round litterally REMOVED my shoulder socket, shattered the bone halfway down to the elbow, and left the inside of my shoulder blade looking like baby swiss….

Lessons known:
1. treat every gun as loaded
2. an unloaded gun is a worthless gun
3. always transport your weapon empty unless you even THINK you may need it

Lessons learned:
1. my son in law is an idiot
2. even an ex-marine doesn’t necessarily know what he’s doing (which I should have realized 2 years ago when he shot his left finger off with a .45 pistol
3. put the fucking gun in a CASE or lock the trigger and
4. just because someone is NOW a cop, don’t mean shit. (actually I DID know that, this just confirmed it!)

Now for the graphic pictures:

1. After irrigation to clean the area

2. debris removed (note shell wadding in lower left)

3. what they replaced it wif (sic)

4. hooking it all together, or what there is left to hook up anyway.

And finally, the end result: