Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts

Sunday, May 3, 2026

Theodore Roosevelt Presidential Library is not ‘progress’ for everyone in Medora; North Dakota Monitor, April 30, 2026

JACK ZALESKI, North Dakota Monitor; Theodore Roosevelt Presidential Library is not ‘progress’ for everyone in Medora


[Kip Currier: This is a thought-provoking article about the Theodore Rosevelt Presidential Library that will open its doors in Medora, North Dakota on America's July 4th 250th anniversary. In the 1990's, on a driving trip from Pennsylvania to California by way of the Interstate 94 northerly route I had never traveled, I visited this area set amid the ruggedly beautiful Theodore Roosevelt National Park. After a day of sightseeing in the park, I also attended the charming outdoors-staged Medora Musical show, mentioned in the piece. I vividly recall seeing a pronghorn antelope calmly walking among the sagebrush not far from the open amphitheater at sunset's twilight as the actors sang and danced on the stage. Medora was a sleepy high plains town then that now appears both excited and nervous about the changes a presidential library are likely to bring for the community and surrounding area.

The author of this article makes an important point about the inherent tensions between "progress" and historical preservation, the ways of life that are changed when communities grow and adapt in ways that benefit some and harm or upset others. I recall visiting Moab, Utah, the doorway to Arches and Canyonlands National Parks in 1988 when it was a faded mining town, whose uranium employing-mine had closed in 1984, displacing 25% of the population. Locals in 1988 told me the town had been talking with some firms about how to raise the profile of the town and make it a premiere tourism destination. Some years later, I again visited Moab and was stunned to see how it had changed into a "mountain bike red rock-riding" community with a vibe and look like Aspen or Vail. Yes, progress had occurred. But what had also been lost when the off-the-beaten-path Moab of the 1980's that I had experienced became the well-trodded now-chic Moab of the 1990's? Who had been displaced? What history and voices had been paved over or silenced?

I can't help but think, too, that the debate about "progress" and "ways of life that are being lost or changed" in Medora, North Dakota has resonance for the debates and changes going on right now about AI's "promise and peril" impacts on our communities and world. Yes, there's a sense of excitement about AI by some. But there's also a palpable atmosphere of concern, uncertainty, and even anger among others about these new technologies. And the data captures this polarized AI mood in the U.S., as borne out by Pew Research Center findings.

  • Who will benefit from AI?
  • Who won't?
  • What will be gained from AI and what will be lost?
  • Whose voices are we not listening to -- or perhaps even acknowledging -- and need to hear? 
  • In what ways will AI "progress" impact both the economic and geographic environments, as in the Medora, North Dakota region?
  • What AI structures and safeguards do we need to put into place to provide more balance of stakeholder interests?
  • How will AI impact our minds, souls, and physical well-being, in positive and negative ways?

In the vein of this opinion piece about the T.R. Presidential Library, AI is not going to bring "progress" for everyone. So what are we going to do -- or not do -- about that as individuals and societies?

The largest chapter in my Ethics, Information, and Technology book (2025), published by Bloomsbury, is the AI chapter. The book examines a number of thorny AI case studies (e.g. AI used for mental health treatment purposes as well as AI-leveraged data employed by gambling companies), tackles "hot AI ethics topics" like AI and copyright law and the roles of AI and robotics for military purposes, and presents many questions for further consideration and discussion. It also identifies a range of stakeholder perspectives and approaches to these new "disruptive technologies".]

[Excerpt]

"The cheerleading for the Theodore Roosevelt Presidential Library at Medora, N.D., has overwhelmed the muted, but passionate concerns and objections among long-time Badlands residents. Few want to be seen as being against the library and the progress it promises for North Dakota’s premier tourist destination, but their definition of “progress” is not the same as the project’s well-funded advocates. A recent column in a local weekly newspaper reveals the depth of their sense of loss...

That being said, an April 9 column in the Golden Valley News of Beach, N.D., revealed a sense of sadness and loss that has not been sufficiently acknowledged in the hoopla since the library was proposed. Carol Tescher Obrigewitch is no stranger to Medora. She is a member of a ranching and rodeo clan with deep roots in the Badlands. 

The name Tescher is synonymous with the ranching heritage of Little Missouri River country. Her weekly “Merrily Along” is a delightful mix of family, history, and astute and informed observations. So when her column headlined “Progress?” was published, she was writing from the heart about the changes wrought by the library. She’s not happy, and her unhappiness is shared by a lot of long-time Medora citizens who choose not to speak out.

Also, it has not gone unnoticed that of the 18 listed members of the Library Foundation Board of Trustees, only four have roots or residences in North Dakota and only one of the four lives in western North Dakota. 

Here are representative excerpts from Tescher Obrigewitch’s column:

“Medora is definitely not historic anymore. The powers that be have totally removed or rebuilt anything that was historic…

…“In this little town, they have installed roundabouts and made major changes to streets and walkways. They have built hotels, torn down historic places that were there before TR ever thought about coming west…

“…I had to go by the old Custer Trail Ranch, which they tore down. I just closed my eyes. It hurt my heart.

“I believe in preserving history so future generations understand how people once lived.

“…but this ‘progress’ thing has gotten out of hand.”

The columnist’s candor and hurt won’t stop or alter the character of the mega-change under way in Medora. That horse is out of the barn, and (as she says) the “powers that be,” local and otherwise, are too deeply invested to rein it in."

Wednesday, March 25, 2020

That Discomfort You’re Feeling Is Grief; Harvard Business Review (HBR), March 23, 2020

Scott Berinato, Harvard Business Review (HBR); That Discomfort You’re Feeling Is Grief


"One colleague mentioned that what she felt was grief. Heads nodded in all the panes.

If we can name it, perhaps we can manage it. We turned to David Kessler for ideas on how to do that. Kessler is the world’s foremost expert on grief. He co-wrote with Elisabeth Kübler-Ross On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief through the Five Stages of Loss. His new book adds another stage to the process, Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief. Kessler also has worked for a decade in a three-hospital system in Los Angeles. He served on their biohazard’s team. His volunteer work includes being an LAPD Specialist Reserve for traumatic events as well as having served on the Red Cross’s disaster services team. He is the founder of www.grief.com which has over 5 million visits yearly from 167 countries...

What can individuals do to manage all this grief?

Understanding the stages of grief is a start. But whenever I talk about the stages of grief, I have to remind people that the stages aren’t linear and may not happen in this order. It’s not a map but it provides some scaffolding for this unknown world. There’s denial, which we say a lot of early on: This virus won’t affect us. There’s anger: You’re making me stay home and taking away my activities. There’s bargaining: Okay, if I social distance for two weeks everything will be better, right? There’s sadness: I don’t know when this will end. And finally there’s acceptance. This is happening; I have to figure out how to proceed.

Acceptance, as you might imagine, is where the power lies. We find control in acceptance. I can wash my hands. I can keep a safe distance. I can learn how to work virtually...

One particularly troubling aspect of this pandemic is the open-endedness of it. 

This is a temporary state. It helps to say it. I worked for 10 years in the hospital system. I’ve been trained for situations like this. I’ve also studied the 1918 flu pandemic. The precautions we’re taking are the right ones. History tells us that. This is survivable. We will survive. This is a time to overprotect but not overreact.

And, I believe we will find meaning in it. I’ve been honored that Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s family has given me permission to add a sixth stage to grief: Meaning. I had talked to Elisabeth quite a bit about what came after acceptance. I did not want to stop at acceptance when I experienced some personal grief. I wanted meaning in those darkest hours. And I do believe we find light in those times. Even now people are realizing they can connect through technology. They are not as remote as they thought. They are realizing they can use their phones for long conversations. They’re appreciating walks. I believe we will continue to find meaning now and when this is over."