ICT NEWSCAST: Wisconsin University honors Ho-Chunk land and Native students
The ICT Newscast for Friday, March 14, covers .Check out the ICT Newscast on YouTube for this episode and more.
Wisconsin University honoring Ho-Chunk land and Native students: UW-Madison is investing in Native students through the "Wisconsin Tribal Educational Promise," covering tuition, housing, and fees.
President Trump's joint address to Congress and its impact on Indian Country: A roundtable discussion with Holly Cook-Macarro and Mike Stopp addresses the impact of Trump's policies.
A Tribe in Maine celebrating a landback victory: The tribe has regained stewardship of forest, wetlands, and river frontage.
Renewable energy projects affecting sacred land: The Wayuu community in Colombia is facing challenges with renewable energy projects.
The passing of Marion Ironquill Meadmore: One of Canada's first Indigenous women lawyers, she was also a co-founder of Canada's first Indian and Métis Friendship Center.
View previous ICT broadcasts here every week for the latest news from around Indian Country.
ICT is owned by IndiJ Public Media, a nonprofit news organization. Will you support our work? All of our content is free. There are no subscriptions or costs. And we have hired more Native journalists in the past year than any news organization ─ and with your help we will continue to grow and create career paths for our people. Support ICT for as little as $10. Sign up for ICT's free newsletter.
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Yahoo
8 hours ago
- Yahoo
Search continues off Point Loma for six passengers on downed Cessna
SAN DIEGO (FOX 5/KUSI) — The multi-agency search is continuing Monday for six people who were on board a Cessna 414 aircraft that went down off the coast of Point Loma over the weekend. The plane crash was reported just before 12:45 p.m. on Sunday. According to U.S. Coast Guard officials, the aircraft fell into the Pacific Ocean about three miles west of Point Loma. The National Transportation Safety Board was called to investigate what caused the plane to go down into the water. Meanwhile, Coast Guard search and rescue assets, including those from partner agencies such as the U.S. Border Patrol and San Diego lifeguards, were deployed to scour the area for the aircraft and any survivors. Protestors gather near Camp Pendleton over Trump's deployment of National Guard in LA According to the flight tracker, FlightAware, the Cessna appears to have been bound for Phoenix, Arizona, departing from San Diego International Airport just 15 minutes before it went down in the Pacific Ocean. An audio recording of what appears to be the conversation between the pilot and air traffic controllers, which was archived on the live air traffic website indicates the aircraft was flying at an altitude of about 1,000 feet prior to its descent into the ocean. The air traffic controller can be heard directing the pilot to bring the aircraft up to 4,000 feet, but the pilot responds, saying he is 'struggling' to maintain altitude. The controller then suggests the pilot land at Naval Air Station North Island, but shortly after, the pilot sends out a mayday call. At this time, it is unknown who was on board, including its pilot. NTSB officials have not yet released any additional information regarding their investigation into the crash. Federal Aviation Administration records indicated the more than 50-year-old aircraft is registered to an Arizona-based nutritional supplement company, Optimal Health Systems. In a statement, Optimal Health Systems founder Doug Grant said the plane had been sold to a group of private individuals back in 2023 and had been in escrow up until recently. Federal records had not yet been updated to reflect the change in ownership. However, Grant added he 'personally knew several of the passengers onboard' and offered condolences to those affected by the tragedy. 'Our thoughts and prayers are with them and their loved ones,' he said. 'Again, we extend our sympathies to the victims and their families during this difficult time.' This is a developing story. Check back for updates. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Hamilton Spectator
9 hours ago
- Hamilton Spectator
Historic Japanese triplexes restored at B.C.'s oldest surviving cannery
Japanese triplexes built in the 1960s at the last intact cannery on B.C.'s north coast have now been restored, preserving a vital piece of the region's multicultural fishing heritage. Built in 1889, the North Pacific Cannery in Port Edward played a key role in driving economic development on British Columbia's coast through salmon canning. It remained in active operation until 1980. Now the North Pacific Cannery National Historic Site and Museum, the site consists of a cluster of wooden buildings, primarily single-storey, arranged along a wooden boardwalk. It includes the main cannery building, management and administrative offices, residences, and employee housing. 'Ethnically-segregated living and work areas divided Chinese, Japanese, Native and white labour,' stated Parks Canada. The set-up was designed to function as a self-sustaining community in an isolated location, generating significant profits for its owners. The main cannery structure, completed in 1895, remains largely unaltered to this day. The Port Edward Historical Society is the current steward of the site. They are a registered charity dedicated to preserving, restoring, interpreting, and expanding the legacy of the North Pacific Cannery. With funding from the Japanese Canadian Legacies initiative, a non-profit organization supported by the Province, the local society received a grant that enabled the restoration of three units in one triplex to their original state. These restored units are now available as short-term rental accommodations. 'The Japanese Canadian Legacy Society was set up by the provincial government [in 2022] because the provincial government finally owned up to the fact that they had a role to play when the Japanese Canadians were interned [in camps] during World War Two. So to make up for that horrible time, they set aside some funding,' said Mona Izumi, North Pacific Cannery Historical Society's president. Additionally, the society transformed a fourth unit in the second triplex into an interpretive exhibit showcasing the history of Japanese Canadians at the cannery. This display features archival recreations of the homes and everyday objects used by past residents, offering visitors an immersive glimpse into their lives. The society organized the grand opening of the triplexes on May 24, drawing a turnout of more than 150 attendees. The afternoon featured a special interactive performance by the Lax Kw'alaams Dancers, guided tours of the site, and a delicious salmon bake and sushi relished by all. Japanese Triplexes A significant number of Japanese Canadians worked at the cannery before the Second Wolrd War. They were fishermen, skilled boat builders, net menders and cannery workers. In 1941, Canada declared war on Japan. After that, 1,200 fishing boats owned by Japanese Canadians were impounded, states the exhibit panels at the triplex. 'All persons of Japanese ancestry were forcibly removed from their homes on the West Coast and moved to internment camps in the interior of B.C. Able-bodied men were sent to work on farms and road crews in communities east of the Rockies,' said the text on the exhibit. Ichitaro Miki was born in Japan and moved to northwest B.C. to join his father and uncles to build boats before the war. 'On February 19, 1942, my parents were forced to evacuate Arrandale [north of Prince Rupert] for the last time. Father [Ichitaro Miki] 's relationship with the First Nation's people was so close. With his departure, he was abandoning years of hard work and everything he had built up was virtually lost. As the catala steamed past familiar landmarks, father took a final glance up Portland Inlet not knowing when he would ever see this land again,' shared Miki's family. In 1945, Japan surrendered after the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. All internment camps in B.C. were then closed and bulldozed. Japanese Canadians were made to relocate east of the Rocky Mountains or 'repatriate' to Japan. By 1949, the federal government lifted the restrictions it imposed under the War Measures Act, and Japanese Canadians were finally allowed to return to British Columbia's coast. Following the news, fishing companies in B.C. started actively recruiting these fishermen and tried to attract them with boat rentals and housing. After the war, the Japanese were mainly fishermen, no longer boat builders and cannery workers. Old housing at the cannery withered and fell apart, so the owners constructed new ones for the returning fishermen between 1964 and 1965. Some of the original residents were Robert and Fumiko Nishimura, Katsuki and Misao Kadowaki, and Frank and Yoshiko Yoshida. These families made every effort to make the most of the salmon season. According to the interpretive text, men typically fished while women took on responsibilities both at home and in the cannery. Life was busy, especially during peak season, as they worked hard to preserve enough seafood to last the entire year. They canned sockeye salmon, crab, abalone, and sea urchin, and also dried seaweed. Salmon was often salted and shipped to family members in other parts of Canada. In addition to their work, women also maintained the communal bath, a vital part of daily life and community hygiene. For the first time in the triplexes' record, they are now open to the public. The restored spaces offer an immersive look into daily life in these historic homes. The kitchens display traditional cooking items, while the living rooms are set up with vintage radios, pianos, and traditional Japanese games and snacks. The bedrooms feature old beds and side tables filled with personal items from the era, evoking a deep sense of nostalgia for visitors. Heather Hadland-Dudoward, the historical society's general manager, invites visitors to rent the three new, refurbished units. She says while the exterior maintains the old, rustic look, the interior is equipped with modern furniture, heating and lighting systems. The bathroom, however, includes an antique clawfoot bathtub and a cast-iron sink, both salvaged from the original cannery. Modern amenities such as TVs and Wi-Fi have not yet been added. 'You really get to unplug and just enjoy the environment. It is really neat, and people who like trains will especially love staying here,' said Dudoward. Travellers will wake up to an ultra-tranquil setting, surrounded by lush greenery, a serene river, and the majestic mountains. The only regular source of funding the cannery gets is from the North Coast Regional District, without which operations would not be possible. Young Canada Works provides some additional support for tour guides. However, as Dudoward noted, maintaining the various museum spaces, artifacts, and facilities, along with supporting staff and events, requires an immense amount of ongoing effort. The upkeep of this historic site involves considerable work, from guided tours to daily maintenance and administrative operations. With the addition of new rental units, the society hopes to advance its mission to preserve and enhance the site for years to come. Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .
Yahoo
9 hours ago
- Yahoo
What's So Shocking About a Man Who Loves His Wife?
The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here. A few Sundays ago, I was in a car ride home with my wife when the light caught her face in a lovely way. I snapped a photo, and shortly afterward posted it to Instagram with several iterations of an emoji that felt appropriate: a man smiling, with hearts in place of his eyes. I did this because I love her. My love for my wife does not exist solely online; I often express it directly to her, or talk about her in glowing terms to friends and co-workers. It feels natural—as natural as sharing my feelings about anything to the internet, in the same way I'd post about how much I'm enjoying my Twin Peaks rewatch, or the particularly good sandwich I ate on vacation. So the first time that someone called me a 'wife guy,' I wasn't sure how to react. If you are encountering this phrase for the first time and think wife guy surely must mean 'a guy who loves his wife,' you would be dead wrong. The term, which rose to popularity sometime during the first Trump administration, describes someone whose spousal affection is so ostentatious that it becomes inherently untrustworthy. 'The wife guy defines himself,' the critic Amanda Hess has written, 'through a kind of overreaction to being married.' The wife guy posts a photo of his wife to Instagram along with several emojis of a man smiling with hearts in place of his eyes. He will repeat this sort of action so many times that even his closest friends may think, Enough already. He is so consistently and loudly psyched about being married that sirens are set off in the mind of family members and strangers alike, who wonder what shortcomings he aspires to compensate for through such enthusiastic declarations. In a world where identity is always being performed on social media, this particular identity is clearly one to avoid. But I, a guy who loves his wife, can't help but conclude that valuable terrain is being ceded when we think poorly of the wife guy. Many men, accustomed to bottling up their feelings, are already afraid to show what's in their heart and on their mind. If some of them are actually moved to express their love publicly and unabashedly—is this so wrong? The term wife guy is a by-product of several converging trends. On social media, millions of people have become accustomed to broadcasting what they are up to, a recurring action that eventually reduces most behaviors and traits to caricature. Do you drink a lot of Diet Coke? Watch out, lest you become a 'Diet Coke guy.' At the same time, the mechanics of social media are such that basically any identity can be created and monetized—and so thousands of people might desperately aspire to make a living by being a Diet Coke guy. Some already do. Once a clever person recognized that 'loving your wife' was an emotion that some people were performing in notable ways, the wife guy seemed to be everywhere. There was the 'curvy-wife guy,' an influencer who made lots of content about how much he adored his plus-size wife. There was the 'cliff-wife guy,' a different influencer who posted a dramatic video about the shock of watching his wife fall off a cliff. (It was more of a short drop, and she appeared to be basically fine.) Celebrities such as John Mulaney, Prince Harry, and Ryan Reynolds turned their marriages into content, so much content. These guys wanted to be wife guys and made 'Honor thy wife' into an informal commandment for modern living. This was around the time of the #MeToo movement, in which men's scummy behavior toward women was suddenly being reevaluated across society—and the wife guy, though perhaps over-the-top, seemed to be a welcome corrective. [Read: There's no way to repair marriage without repairing men] As more wife guys popped up, the phrase evolved. Before long, you did not have to be a public figure to be a wife guy—you just had to be a guy. And the establishment of this easily attainable personality opened it up for critique. Some wife guys didn't appear to love their wives all that much; their affection seemed a bit forced, or stage-directed, or perhaps even outright transactional. Some famous wife guys got divorced, or cheated on their wives, or began to look like they were going through the motions. The rapturous feelings they'd shown began to seem like a cover-up for some sort of unpleasant truth. 'Posting publicly on social media about your love for your spouse shouldn't be a sign of cheating,' the New York Post declared, 'but in 2022, it's an immediate red flag.' Wife guy, always a little mocking, curdled into the plainly pejorative. Thus did my friends' casual remarks that I was a wife guy begin to feel like digs, even if they weren't meant that way. That I, a 36-year-old heterosexual man, should love my wife does not seem like a grand surprise. I married her for love, not because of a secret desire to inherit her immense oil fortune (she does not have one) or because of an accidental pregnancy and subsequent familial pressure to tie the knot (no baby here). I met her through a mutual pal—her best friend was also my boss—and a few months later, I sat back and thought to myself, You know, I am having a tremendously good time getting to know this beautiful, intelligent, hilarious, kind, ambitious woman with great taste in movies and books and music and fashion whom all of my friends love. Within a few years, we were engaged, and wedded not long after that, a series of decisions that felt as instinctual and obvious as ordering more bread to go with my unused dip. Hence my surprise when my uncomplicated expressions of adoration started to be noticed—and judged. [Read: Today's masculinity is stifling] Still, I understand why other people might be suspicious. When my wife and I were first dating, and everything felt so good, I could not always avoid sounding smug. 'It feels like,' I told one friend, 'we're better than every other couple.' I do not think my friends were hoping our relationship would fail, but they were unfamiliar with the emotions I was broadcasting—it probably did seem like I was putting it on, when really I was just very happy. Obviously I know love is not about showing off how in love you are. Love contains something internal and unmeasurable that can be weighed only in private, not presented for others to observe. And in fact, when dating, I was accustomed to adopting a more defensive pose, in which I'd play it cool so that my future self wouldn't look back with regret at how I'd left myself exposed. Such is a subcurrent of the skepticism toward the wife guy: an anticipation of the moment when all this publicly performed love will collapse onto itself, and be revealed as shortsighted. I knew it, thinks the naysayer. But falling in love, and getting married, has changed a great many things about the way I see the world, and validated other ideas that I suspected were true but had not yet confirmed for myself. Namely, that love requires vulnerability—a willingness to be naive and silly, a willingness to lay down your defenses and welcome what comes next, whether good or bad. To me, this is the only state of being worth pursuing in this life. Of course, I'd prefer to keep multiple aspects of this alchemic process, and my marriage, to myself (for example, the level of mess that occasionally accumulates when two writers live together). But sometimes, I just want to share it with the world—even if it makes people roll their eyes. We are all performing some identity, in some way, and I can live with being a 'guy who loves his wife a lot,' no matter what nicknames it brings. Article originally published at The Atlantic
