‘Beyond Heart Mountain’ book and movie are for sale

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Buy Beyond Heart Mountain memoir published by Winter Goose Publishing. It is available as a printed book and ebook. Signed copies can be purchased from the author. The book was released February 27th. That week coincided with the 80th anniversary of President Roosevelt’s signing of Executive Order 9066 that sent 120,000 Japanese to 10 war relocation camps, that included Heart Mountain in northwest Wyoming.

Beyond Heart Mountain book and related are now for sale.

Remember to download the Beyond Heart Mountain promotional information booklet.

Boulder Community Media (BCM) produced a documentary that aired on PBS that aired in December 2021. The Nishigawa Neighborhood is a coffee table book that will soon be released.

During World War II, Cheyenne native Alan O’Hashi’s family avoided life in internment camps such as Heart Mountain.

As a Baby Boomer, Alan documents the overt and quiet racism pervasive in Wyoming and throughout the United States during and following World War II. He relates his experiences to current violence towards Asians and the issue of civility within society.

The backdrop to Alan’s account is the history of the once vibrant Japanese community in the 400 and 500 blocks of West 17th Street in the downtown area of my hometown, Cheyenne, Wyoming.

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“My grandmother and grandfather Ohashi and their large family lived in worked in that neighborhood where I spent quite a bit of time between elementary and high school. Having been away from Cheyenne for many years, I stashed those two blocks in the back of my mind until I learned that two classmates of mine were planning to build a housing development at 509 W. 17th St. The biggest obstacle was obtaining permission to tear down an old building. It was the last structure in the Japanese neighborhood. It was the site of a rooming house operated by Mrs. Yoshio Shuto.”

Buy the Beyond Heart Mountain movie

Buy the Beyond Heart Mountain DVD is mainly about the West 17th Street Japanese community history and a general overview of Executive Order 9066 that President Franklin Roosevelt signed that relocated 120,000 Japanese into 10 internment camps, including Heart Mountain in northwest Wyoming.

I interviewed four childhood friends for the documentary. Robert Walters formerly worked at the City Cafe. He still lives in Cheyenne, where he practices law.

Terie Miyamoto and her family-owned Baker’s Bar. It was the only racially-integrated bar in Cheyenne at the time. She now lives in the Denver Metro area.

Brian Matsuyama now lives in Seattle, Washington. He resided in Cheyenne during his childhood. His family owned the California Fish Market. Carol Lou Kishiyama-Hough is in Cheyenne. She and her family purchased the Fish Market from the Matsuyamas.

Buy the Nishigawa Neighborhood coffee table book. It’s a 11 x 8.5-inch hard-cover coffee table book with over 100 color, black and white images of the neighborhood. Signed copies are available from thanks author.

Nishigawa Neighborhood coming soon

Mrs. Shuto’s tenants were mainly Japanese residents who made their way to Cheyenne. She later opened the City Cafe across the street which became a gathering place for the Japanese in town.

My grandmother was a cook at the City Cafe. Next door, my grandfather was the third owner of a pool hall.

Whenever we went out to eat, the restaurant of choice was the City Cafe. It was a gathering place for the Japanese in Cheyenne. My friends enlisted me to do a cultural and historical survey of the Japanese residents who lived and worked there from the 1920s through the 1970s.

Buy a Beyond Heart Mountain cap are also available. They are low-profile baseball-style hats. Select Beyond Heart Mountain from the dropdown menu.

The logo is an adapted version of the Wyoming state flag. One size fits most.

Last Place Has Benefits in the NFL

Why bad NFL teams sometimes get an easier road back

For all the complaining fans do about NFL scheduling, the league has a system designed to keep all teams thriving. The NFL doesn’t want permanent doormats or untouchable dynasties.

Teams that finish poorly are rewarded with theoretically easier schedules. Last-place teams play other last-place teams in portions of the schedule. 

Better teams get punished with tougher opponents because they face other division winners and higher finishers. Success can make your next season harder before training camp even begins.

Then the NFL doubles down with the draft.

The weaker you are, the higher you pick. The idea is simple: help struggling franchises recover quickly and keep fan bases emotionally invested. Every spring, bad teams are handed fresh hope in the form of rookie quarterbacks, new coaches, and “this changes everything” draft grades from ESPN.

I started following Cleveland when the Browns drafted Shedeur Sanders from CU. He ended the season as QB1 after the team traded Joe Flacco and Dillon Gabriel hurt himself.

The Browns have the formula the NFL system rewards:

  • a new coach,
  • a stack of draft picks,
  • an easier schedule,
  • and Shedeur Sanders, a bargain low-round draft pick from last season, 2025

There’s an energy around teams like that. The Browns franchise stands at the starting line of a rebuild, and in the NFL that can be a dangerous thing.

A few draft picks hit, a young quarterback catches momentum, and suddenly a team everyone laughed at the year before is flexing muscles on national television in December.

Meanwhile my local Denver Broncos took a different path.

Instead of stockpiling draft picks and rebuilding patiently, Denver pushed its chips into the middle of the table and traded away draft capital for elite wide receiver Jaylen Waddle.

That’s the high-risk, win-now model. It can work brilliantly if the star player transforms the team immediately. But it also means less depth, fewer young players developing behind the scenes, and less margin for error.

So now the Broncos face the harder side of the NFL’s balancing act:

  • tougher schedule,
  • fewer draft resources,
  • higher expectations,
  • and a loaded AFC.

The Browns, meanwhile, get the softer landing the league intentionally provides struggling teams.

That’s why the NFL works so well. The league manufactures hope better than any sport in America. A 5-12team is never supposed to feel dead for long. The league recycles opportunity.

By August, every fan base convinces itself that, “This is the year we turn it around,” and every year, a few of them will be right, because that’s how the parity system is set up.

When UFOs Were for Crazy People

Now the government calls them UAPs and holds press conferences.

Belief in Unidentified Flying Objects (UFOs) for decades occupied the exclusive domain of conspiracy theorists, late-night AM radio callers, and guys who stored canned beans in underground bunkers.

Back then, if you talked about flying saucers in public, people looked at you the same way they’d look at someone claiming Bigfoot stole their lawnmower.

Today they call them Unidentified Aerial Phenomena (UAP), which sounds a lot more respectable and government-funded. Somewhere along the line, UFOs got a promotion.

I’ll admit it. My fascination started when I read Erich von Däniken and his wildly popular book “Chariots of the Gods?” Von Däniken argued that extraterrestrials have been visiting Earth since ancient times and that many of the “angels” described in holy writings like the Bible and Torah may have been visitors from somewhere beyond our galaxy.

Was it far-fetched? Absolutely.

Did teenage me eat it up like Buford gas station beef jerky on a Wyoming road trip? Also absolutely.

I tend to trust my own observations more than theories. That brings me to one unforgettable weekend in 1980.

I was reading the front page of the “Casper Star-Tribune” when I came across a story about strange UFO sightings at the Morton Pass area along Wyoming Highway 34 between Wheatland and Laramie. The property belonged to Pat McGuire and his family.

The sketch by Marina Wormus illustrated the story by Greg Bean.

Now this wasn’t your standard “my cousin saw lights after six Coors Banquets” kind of story.

McGuire claimed he’d been abducted multiple times. According to reports, hypnotic regression sessions conducted by Professor Leo Sprinkle at the University of Wyoming revealed encounters with alien beings who supposedly instructed him to drill a water well on otherwise useless land.

The result? A gusher that provided enough to irrigate alfalfa fields.

No UFO story is complete without at least one detail that makes everybody tilt their head sideways. McGuire flew an Israeli flag over the well because he said the Star of David adorned the aliens’ belt buckles.

You can’t make this stuff up.

Naturally, I talked a few friends from Gillette to load into a van and headed south in search of extraterrestrials.

We camped out on the property and, sure enough, saw strange lights moving in the distance over the prairie sky. Were they spacecraft? Military exercises? Reflections? Atmospheric weirdness?

I’ll tell you this. When you’re standing in the middle of the Wyoming night with nothing around but wind, sagebrush, and stars the size of dinner plates, your imagination becomes very open-minded.

I’d call it a close encounter of the “pretty darn interesting” kind.

Over the years, I’ve become less interested in little green men and more interested in the spiritual side of the phenomenon.

Oddly enough, evangelist Billy Graham wrote in his book “Angels: God’s Secret Agents,” speculated that extraterrestrials could be part of God’s creation.

I’ve wondered if what ancient people described as angels might overlap with what modern people describe as UFO encounters.

It’s harder to laugh the subject off now that the Department of Defense has released footage and reports from military pilots describing UAP. When fighter pilots start saying, “Yeah, we saw something weird moving at impossible speeds,” suddenly the old UFO crowd doesn’t seem quite so crazy.

Well, slightly less crazy.

I still don’t know what I saw over Morton Pass all those years ago, but it made for one heck of a Wyoming weekend.

Unlike the aliens, the memories have never disappeared.

Born on the 1st Saturday in May

I didn’t just show up on May 2nd. I arrived with hooves thundering in the background.

The 79th running of the Kentucky Derby at Churchill Downs provided a dramatic soundtrack for my birthday. Between the starting gate and the finish line, I made my entrance into the world. Timing, as I would later learn, is everything, especially if you’re betting on it.

My dad, meanwhile, had money riding on the favorite, Native Dancer. This wasn’t the polished, app-based gambling world we know today. No sleek interfaces or “deposit bonus” nonsense. 

This was Cheyenne, Wyoming, where a guy would stroll into local businesses like he was delivering office supplies, except he was taking bets. Completely illegal but completely trusted.

Dad also dabbled in Irish Sweepstakes tickets, which were as legal as robbing a bank but with better branding. I don’t recall him ever hitting it big, but that never seemed to matter. He was a gambling man in the purest sense, not chasing riches, but the action and the thrill.

Then came the race. On the left is a photo taken on May 2, 1953, of Dark Star in the winner’s circle.

Native Dancer looked like a sure thing. If there’s one thing horse racing stories have, it’s a good plot twist. Dark Star, a longshot with a name that sounds like a rejected Batman villain, surged at the wire and won by a neck.

Just like that, my dad lost his bet, and just like that, I was born into a world where the favorite doesn’t always win.

That’s a fitting origin story.

By the time I turned 19, the legal drinking age at the time, Kentucky Derby Day had officially leapfrogged Christmas as my favorite holiday. Mint juleps replaced the tree and presents.

Back in the day, before gambling went respectable and crossed state lines, I had to work for it. I tracked down off-track betting joints, like the Stampede in Aurora, Colorado,  like a guy following a treasure map. I walked in, placed a bet, grabbed a drink, and for two minutes I was a part of the race action.

These days, I’ve scaled it back. On my birthday this year, the bookie and my upstairs neighbor, Lindy, organized a casual race pool. This year I drew the 22 horse, Ocialia, that showed and won $3. The ritual hits the same. 73 years later. The call to the post, the crowd, the faint hope that I drew the winning horse.

If my Kentucky Derby birthday taught me anything, it’s that favorites are comforting, and longshots are interesting. Life has a funny way of siding with the Dark Stars of the world.