Reporter’s Notebook

I usually have a lot on my mind, as most journalists do. A story’s elements can often feel like a hundred scattered puzzle pieces.

For generations, families who live in and around Canyon de Chelly have served as caretakers of the land. They know the trails, the stories, and the responsibilities that come with sharing this sacred place

I haven’t been to the Gallup flea market in over 15 years. Not since I was about nine getting dragged around in the dust, trying not to melt into the ground, fighting my sister over nonsense, getting yelled at for crying for the strange animals (parrots, turtles, hamsters) for sale. And this weekend, I’m finally going back.

When disaster encroaches, the instinct to protect what we love most can define the shape of our response. For Ela Yazzie-King, a longtime St. Michael’s resident who walks with crutches, that moment of reckoning came not with the sirens or smoke, but with a simple, aching question: What will happen to the horse?

I didn’t step into The Door Christian Fellowship Church myself, but I didn’t need to. The footage speaks loud enough. Marketed as a revival, what unfolded on stage wasn’t worship. It was war, waged through theater, cloaked in salvation, and aimed squarely at Navajo identity.