She was 13 when she found out that camping on the high mesa made her sick.
She was 16 when she understood that the history lesson she was being taught did not match the history she knew to be true.
The one that tasted of copper pennies in her mouth. The one that was so thick on the mesas that it made her ill.
She was 18 when she had to laugh at herself because she had always thought the red clay was red from the blood that had soaked into it.
She had to laugh. To herself. Because it wasn't funny. Not really. And especially not to the people who couldn't taste the copper pennies in their mouths.
The one that tasted of copper pennies in her mouth. The one that was so thick on the mesas that it made her ill.
She was 18 when she had to laugh at herself because she had always thought the red clay was red from the blood that had soaked into it.
She had to laugh. To herself. Because it wasn't funny. Not really. And especially not to the people who couldn't taste the copper pennies in their mouths.
When she was in college, away from home, hoping to get away from the copper pennies and red clay, she found that the land in the South was also red clay and copper pennies.
When she went home with her roommate for Spring break and visited New England for the first time she couldn't enjoy the clam chowder her friend insisted was the best. So many pennies.
When she went home with her roommate for Spring break and visited New England for the first time she couldn't enjoy the clam chowder her friend insisted was the best. So many pennies.
She had traveled the States and found so few places that weren't red clay and copper pennies. The ground soaked everywhere with the history of the country.
Some places were worse. The mesas at home. The fields and mansions in the South. Some places were just traces. A hint here and there. A small remnant.
She was a sought after historian. There weren't many of those. But she gave speeches and guest lectures. She had a top rated Ted Talk and a YouTube channel with over a million subscribers.
"Professor Manus brings history to life. You can feel what she is talking about."
"I took Professor Manus' class in college and still subscribe to her newsletter to this day. I feel as though I know history instead of just learned about history."
"Professor Manus brings history to life. You can feel what she is talking about."
"I took Professor Manus' class in college and still subscribe to her newsletter to this day. I feel as though I know history instead of just learned about history."
"When Professor Manus speaks about our history you can almost imagine what it was like to be there. To really experience what was happening."
"We were visiting Wounded Knee and happened upon a guest lecturer. She told the story of the massacre and I swear I could smell the blood on the killing field. I have never been around someone like Professor Manus and I am not sure if I want to again. It was intense."
The fresh places were bad. Like an undercooked piece of meat shoved in to her mouth. Las Vegas. She hadn't paid attention to where she was walking and...she wasn't the first person to throw up in a trash can on the Strip, she wouldn't be the last.
She did what she could to bear witness.
To teach the history.
To maybe make a difference.
If you did more than hear it, if you felt it, if you tasted it, maybe you would work harder to end it.
Maybe.
To teach the history.
To maybe make a difference.
If you did more than hear it, if you felt it, if you tasted it, maybe you would work harder to end it.
Maybe.
Probably not.
The whole country was red clay and copper pennies.
And it seemed as though it always would be.
A never ending cycle.
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