What do you think of when you think of the “West?” Or, do you think of it, at all? We have just been watching the PBS series, “The West,” produced by Ken Burns. I must say that it has been an eye-opening experience. I have lost count of the number of social injustices, not to even mention the senseless slaying of the American Indians, their placement on reservations, and the outrageous slaughter of Buffalo, for monetary gain, for sport, and to deprive Native Americans of their main source of food, tepee material, and warm covers.

This summer, I saw a few Buffalo in a zoo. They are large, rather sedentary creatures. The show states that if one of them is hurt, the whole herd gathers around, making each of them easy for the hunter’s gun to “pick off.”

I become enraged at injustice, and that is pretty visible at every turn, when we look at the history of western expansion.

I lived in California in Joshua Tree country, up with the Roadrunners and rattlesnakes. We could see the snow-capped mts. from our desert home, and we could hear the winds that would blow piles of sand right through the closed windows.

I lived in Arizona, and saw the beauty of Snapdragons growing in the Japanese Gardens, and climbed to the top of South Mountain that overlooks the Valley of the Sun (or was it Sun Valley)- it’s a lifetime ago!

When I think of the “west,” I like to recall going over the border into Mexico, and horsebackriding along the sands of a beach at Ensenada, while watching the sparkling waters, glowing in the sun.

I don’t like to think about American troops hunting Pancho Villa. I don’t like to consider the diseases along the wagon trail, every malady from measles to cholera. I don’t like to think about how much the Chinese were hated, merely for working harder than any of the other gold diggers during the Gold Rush Days of ’49.

I think we have come along way. I also believe that we can never fully appreciate the present, until we at least look at the past, although much of what happened we can never fully grasp. We would have had to have lived then. That’s not to say that we cannot turn a critical eye to historical topics, as we try to make sense of events.

In my dreams of the “west,” I’ll be remembering the Mourning Dove and her nest in the Saguaro cactus at the Botanical Gardens in Phoenix. I will recall taking my young son (who now has a young son of his own) to the Phoenix Zoo, in a stroller. I’ll ponder the wonderment of walking along my own street and seeing large Prickly Pear cacti and their fruits.

And, because God gives us thorns, as well as roses, I will never forget a neighbor who desperately wanted us to convert to his religion. He would customarily “gift” us with his homemade Grapefruit jelly. He would watch out the window and the minute he’d see us, he’d run right out with yet another jar of the delicious jelly. By the time we moved away, we must have had several gallons of the stuff. More than anything, it became a contest as to whether we could get in the car, in the carport, and drive away before he would nail us for an hour, with his preaching.

Mostly, I’ll try to keep in mind the “west” as I knew it for about five years. Series such as the one we are watching (and which I bought) provides an historical perspective. Thinking about our roots, as a country, is never a bad thing. This is another wonderful series that is associated with Ken Burns, a New Hampshire film producer whose name is linked to quality documentaries. I highly recommend “The West.”

Patricia Cummings