By DW McKinney

Since my mother moved to Las Vegas last year, we’ve taken to exploring the city together. Because she’s been interested in Las Vegas’s history, this spring I took us on a tour of the Harrison Guest House in the Historic Westside.

The Harrison Guest House is a former lodging home for Black travelers during the country’s Jim Crow era. While segregation barred non-whites from hotels on the Strip, Miss Genevieve Harrison offered them a room and a homecooked meal. She also lodged several notable Black musicians and singers who performed on the Strip, including Harry Belafonte, Ella Fitzgerald, Nat King Cole, and Lena Horne.

The Harrison House—an unassuming one-story, single-family home—sits against a backdrop of barren lots, crumbling churches, and tumbledown houses. Passersby would never guess that it’s a historic landmark, especially after it was abandoned for years at one point.

Standing on the house’s concrete front porch, the docent spoke about Sammy Davis Jr., whose frequent visits earned a room named in his honor. The docent asked, “What do you think Sammy thought when he came through the front door?”

Eyeing the dusty streets and neglect, I replied, “He probably thought about his difference.”

I wasn’t simply referring to the glittering lights adorning the casinos versus the local domesticity. I also meant that the conviviality at the Harrison House and in the community probably outshined the tolerance Davis received on stage. 

Standing on that front porch, I imagined that the guest house was more than a refuge during a time of social division. It was also a well-spring. Travelers found respite and kinship and revitalization on the property. And when performers such as Pearl Bailey, Billy Eckstine, and the Jubalaires likely performed on that front porch, they imbued something holy and profound into that neighborhood.

Their music must’ve sounded divine echoing through those dust-coated streets. How much life, longing, and blues resounded over the roofs many believed housed second-class citizens.

It’s easy to be enraged at what the Harrison Guest House objectively represents: social division and discrimination. However, its power is in its continuance to be what it’s always meant to be: a source of vitality.

Paying homage to the Moulin Rouge, the first integrated hotel and casino in Las Vegas (and the country), the house now hosts Moulin Nights where local bands and singers take the stage in the front yard and on that concrete porch. On these nights, the neighborhood once again reverberates with drums and crooning and dancing. On these nights, the house comes back to life, threading the past and present together.

I’m grateful that the Harrison Guest House exists. That it strives to sustain Black history at a time when it is being systematically erased. This house forges a reminder of how brilliantly we shine when we remain connected to our history and one another.

DW McKinney is an award-winning writer and editor based in Nevada. A 2026 Nevada Arts Council Literary Fellow, her work has appeared in Publishers Weekly, Los Angeles Review of Books, Narratively, Ecotone, and Oxford American. She serves as the fellowship manager and editor-at-large for Shenandoah magazine. Say hello at dwmckinney.com.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

By Sarah Lohman

I'm Sarah Lohman, a food historian and author. My latest book Endangered Eating: America’s Vanishing Foods was selected by Nevada Humanities to represent the state at the National Book Festival in Washington, D.C.

The Book Festival was a one-day event on Saturday, August 22, 2026. The event drew over 45,000 attendees in a 12-hour period. When I arrived at 8:00 am, there was already a line at the front door to get in. I’ve never been in a festival environment this crowded or this delightful. Groups of book nerds were there to learn, meet their favorite authors and show off their matching book outfits. My favorite was a group of three women with t-shirts that said “Bookmarks are for Quitters.”

The event featured esteemed guest speakers like Martin Scorsese and Kate McKinnon, but there was an area for “Great Reads from Great Places” where every US state and territory featured two authors and their books. Tables were set in a giant U-shape, with authors and Humanities staffers there passing out state swag and engaging with readers. Although some states featured well-known authors – like Nebraska chose Karen Russel and her newest book The Antidote – often the books were lesser known local authors, with books from small presses, University publishers, or even self-published. It was so special to see some hyper-local books get national attention, like hard cider expert Diane Flynt’s book Wild, Tamed, Lost, Revived: The Surprising Story of Apples in the South.

My day at the book festival started by scampering down to the sublevel and into the enormous Politics and Prose on-site bookstore. There were books from all the authors that were speaking and signing at the event, as well as a lot of cute book related stuff – I bought adorable pencil pouches as souvenirs for me and my friends. The shop had a designated section for the Great Reads from Great Places and each selection was marked by state. It made me feel really proud to see my books under “Nevada”. It took some time to sign them and then headed upstairs to find the Nevada booth.

My book, Endangered Eating, is about rare and hyper local foods in the United States. I brought a few hands-on examples of ingredients featured in my book to engage visitor’s senses. I brought some real wild rice from upper Minnesota, which is so different from the grocery store product. I invited people to smell the grains, which have a grassy, fresh water scent. I also brought filé from Louisiana, which is a thickener and seasoning made from fried, ground sassafras leaves. This ingredient is a part of traditional creole and Cajun cuisine, and it originally came from the Choctaw people. It’s a bright green color with a citrusy smell. I should have also brought some Mesquite beans and Mesquite flour and some pinion pine nuts from Southern Nevada – two of our most delicious local ingredients!

Sadly, due to federal funding cuts, I was the only person that could make it from Nevada this year, but the local Junior League staffed the event with the most kind and engaged volunteers. and the volunteers were amazing women who are so engaged. The convention center doors opened at 8:30 am; I talked straight through from 8:30 to noon without stopping! I engaged with people who hadn’t heard of my work and met some people that have been following me for years. Writing can be such an isolating practice, I find these moments of connection with fans to be deeply encouraging. A woman came up to me with her toddler and handed me a copy of my first book, Eight Flavors, for me to sign. She said, “I’ve been following you since you were a blogger.” I started blogging in 2008 so she has been reading my work for almost 20 years! She and her daughter had even made some of my recipes together.

When I clocked out of my “shift” to go enjoy the rest of the festival, I stopped by the bookstore again to discover all of my books had sold!

I feel like I’ve been hearing since the start of my career that “people aren’t reading anymore” and “book stores are dead.” It’s hard to wrap my head around those takes after witnessing the crowded, joyful community of the National Book Festival.

P.S. I also went to DC because I have several close friends that live there and they treated me to delicious food and drink all weekend. I highly recommend Doi Moi for Thai food and drinks. They’ve got an extensive vegan menu and the food is deeply flavorful. And I had my favorite cocktail of the weekend: a frozen pandan coconut cocktail. Creamy vanilla flavors, with a perfect balance of sweet and tart, it set me straight during the hot and humid weekend. I also had a great meal at Oh! Naan and cocktails Jane Jane, and a relaxing Sunday at Dacha beer garden.

Sarah Lohman is a culinary historian and the author of the bestselling books Endangered Eating: America’s Vanishing Foods and Eight Flavors: The Untold Story of American Cuisine. She focuses on the history of food as a way to access the stories of diverse Americans. Endangered Eating was a New York Times Editors’ Choice, and was named one of the Best Books of 2023 by Amazon’s Editors, Food & Wine, and Adam Gopnik on the Milk Street podcast. It was a finalist for the Nach Waxman Prize for Food & Drink Scholarship and winner of the Ohioana Library Book Prize for Nonfiction. Lohman’s work has been featured in The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, and NPR. Lohman has lectured across the country, from the Smithsonian Museum of American History in Washington, DC, to The Neon Museum in Las Vegas. Lohman is based in Henderson.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

By Brad McMullen

My first experience of Basque food was at The Star in Elko. I was visiting town for a job interview, and they insisted on going there for dinner. I’d had my heart (and stomach) set on BJ Bulls, my Michigan origins demanding a pasty, but I gave it a try. I was blown away, not just by the quality of the food, or the quantity (if you’ve been to The Star you know what I’m talking about), but also by the drink everyone encouraged me to the try – the Picon Punch. It took a few sips, but once I adjusted to it, I knew I’d found a new entry on the list of favorite drinks. The pasty could wait till I moved to town.

Since then, the picon has become a regular drink of choice. I will admit that I have defied folk knowledge on the correct amount of picons to drink at a time more than once, without suffering any ill effects. Maybe I was saving them up, foreseeing the eventual move to Southern Nevada where my access to picons has become limited, which is why it was such a delight to be a part of Nevada Humanities recent screenings of Mark Maynard’s Piconland documentary. Getting to talk with the director, as well as Joe Cannella of Ferino Distillery, and members of the Lagun Onak Las Vegas Basque Club about the film and Basque culture in Nevada was a great time.

There was a question Mark asked me that I wanted to go into more detail about – what some Nevada traditions and customs are. There is the pronunciation of Nevada and our general statewide affinity for tall tales, as well as celebrations like Nevada Day that help to define residents of the Silver State as a single folk group. But one thing that I think underlies all those traditions, as well as many others, is a spirit of generosity and welcome. Nevada’s economy is unique in how many of its residents work in the service industry, and we have traditions that reflect that, like housekeeping welcoming guests with towel animals or toilet paper flowers. The Basque boarding house culture that gave rise to the Picon Punch is just another example of that spirit of welcome.

I’ve been the lucky beneficiary of that spirit multiple times while here in Nevada. Whether it was that first dinner at The Star, other meals at the Martin Hotel in Winnemucca or JT’s in Gardnerville, or experience like the cooking workshops at the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering. Earlier this year I got to accompany Nevada Humanities’ Executive Director Christina Barr as we documented two Basque cooking workshops at the Gathering, and both were experiences to remember. Not just for the food (all delicious), but also the camaraderie – participants went in not necessarily knowing each other but came out friends. And when Christina and I interviewed the workshop teachers, one thing that came up over and over again was the importance of community and the role food plays in bringing people together.

Whether they arrived as shepherds in the north or to play jai-alai in the south, all but the first bascos were able to find community here in Nevada. Some of that was through finding people with shared traditions like dance and music from the Basque country back home, but it was also the new traditions they were making here in the US, like the picon. It was a new drink for a new land, and a way to welcome people to a new community and new location. And now, as the state drink, it does that for all Nevadans, whether they live here permanently or are just Nevadans for a weekend.

Brad McMullen lives in Las Vegas, Nevada, where he serves as the State Folklorist for Nevada and as the Folklife Specialist at the Nevada Arts Council. Before joining the Nevada Arts Council, he was the Programs and Gathering Manager at the Western Folklife Center in Elko, NV where he oversaw the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering and other programs. He has three master’s degrees – one in Public Folklore and one in Arts Administration, both from University of Oregon, and one in Welsh from Cardiff University.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

By Katie Karnehm-Esh

If you ask who Lone Piñon is, some might say a musical group from New Mexico. Others might say they are a dance band. Still others might say they are folk music educators. But when I first heard them play at the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering, I would have said they were the single greatest hour of delight I’d experienced in 2026. 

Lone Piñon is a New Mexican string band, or orquesta típica, made up of Tanya Nuñez (upright bass, guitar, vocals), Karina Wilson (violin, viola, vocals), Santiago Romero (guitar, vihuela, vocals), and Jordan Wax, original founding member (violin, piano, accordions, mandolin, guitar, vocals). Jordan grew up in Missouri, while Tanya, Karina, and Santiago are New Mexican natives. All four band members grew up under the tutelage of folk-music elders. Individually, they are well-known for their musical talents.  As a group, they have created an ensemble so distinctive and fun that they have fans from Elko to Alaska to Louisiana. 

The band gathers around a computer screen in their Santa Fe kitchen during a rehearsal break. When I ask where they got their name, Jordan pops into the frame of their camera and says it was the name of a storage unit in the neighborhood. At one point the land was a sheep field with a lone piñon tree that became a local landmark. When the field became an auto repair shop, the owners named it Lone Piñon, and kept the name when the repair shop became a storage unit. Even after the storage unit was bought out by a national chain, the name stuck, turning into “Just Around the Corner–Lone Piñon.” A past band member had suggested that ‘Lone Piñon would be a great band name.’ It turned out to be a perfect band name, as the land was owned by the cousins of their mentor Tomas Maes, who has been a key source of their musical knowledge. The family, Jordan says, has been a big supporter of their music, and loves that they have this connection. 

Noticing historical patterns like these are part of the band’s gift.  Another is people. During our interview, the band members talk about the lengths they went to to have their documentary film include New Mexican Spanish dialect subtitles for Tomas, their mentor. They talk about a mutual friend of ours from Elko who died unexpectedly right after the Gathering.  And they continually refer back to their audiences, and how their listeners shape the performances with them. 

When I ask how their music fits into the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering, Karina says, “Well we yodel!” before adding that working the land, and caring for livestock are pivotal aspects of New Mexican tradition. “The storytelling too,” Santiago says.

Lone Piñon alternately describes their music like a living research project, a tapestry, or a soil sample that shows the historical and culture layers. When I ask about their process, Karina says, “I picture it as a rock tumbler.” One band member will bring in a piece of music or an idea. “We try to listen for things that would make it more interesting,” Karina says, adding chord progressions and musical ideas, “then tumble until it’s something sparkly gorgeous.”

“We also bring our own sensibilities to [the music],” Jordan says, adding they don’t want their performance to be a museum piece, but “to sound like only the four of us could have made it.” He also wants the audience to hear each of them in the music. “When a tradition is being played in that way where you really can feel the personality and the lives of the people who are playing it,” he says, “that gives it a really important life force and blood in the veins.” 

Santiago adds a pivotal ethos has been an idea they call “moving at the speed of trust.” The band describes this as crafting music so that the listeners trust where the band is taking them, like stepping stones leading the listeners to each new section of music. Most of the pieces come from a dance tradition, which, as Jordan points out, adds a performance challenge; the audiences are usually sitting, not dancing. The work is on the musicians to help the audience “experience these amazing songs like we do.” 

Listen to their new album Hot Carne Seca (“It’s tasty,” Santiago says) and you will hear what Jordan means. Santiago has a distinct operatic belt. Karina and Tanya croon, strum, and fiddle. Jordan stitches the music together with a rotation of  instruments and his voice. They recorded the album in Louisiana with a Cajun musician who specializes in capturing the essence of live music. While a few songs on the album are ballads, most are infectious dance numbers. Ninety percent of the songs are in Spanish, but fear not if you are monolingual: your feet will know what to do.

The band has performed everywhere from living rooms to festivals of 40,000 people, and love them all. Tanya says, “If I look around and everyone looks like they’re having a hell of a good time–which feels like every time now–that’s feeding into joy and resistance. Active resistance. Experiencing joy through music is everything to me.”  

“We bring what we bring, and the community brings something,” Jordan says.

Joy and resistance go together for Lone Piñon, as they do for so many folk traditions. “Same ingredients, different combination,” Jordan says. He says the Creole and Cajun cultures of Louisiana, and traditional music of Hawaiʻi are interesting parallels to New Mexico folk music, as those communities also had to struggle to maintain their language and resist racist policies. Traditional styles, he says, have long resisted colonialism. 

This issue has taken on a more serious note in 2026, and adds to the challenges of the job. In addition to the complications of travel with multiple instruments, and an artistic economy sharing fewer resources, current immigration policies are a constant stressor. 

“It’s a changing landscape for our audience,” Karina says, noting they usually sing in Spanish to a Spanish-speaking audience. “Just a few years ago, we would have been really excited to go to a place like Chicago. Now more and more people are in hiding, which I never would have thought would be the case in this country.” 

“The work is more important than ever,” Jordan says, “but it’s also harder than ever. It’s a change in my life as a cultural worker. But because it’s needed, it’s going to continue.”

As we wrap up, I ask if there’s anything else I should know. Tanya yells,  “We love Elko!” 

“Can you tell me why?” I ask.

Their answers range from The Star, the legendary Basque restaurant in town, to the love the community brings to their shows. “I guess we should say we love Elko, and the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering,” Jordan says. “We imagine that Elko is like this every day.”

Could it be? I spend a lot of time in my work advocating for the importance of the humanities, especially in towns like Elko. A lot of this work feels like a marathon. Maybe it doesn’t have to be this way though. Maybe the solution is dance steps and fiddle music and occasional, joyous, yodeling. 

Katie Karnehm-Esh, Ph.D, is the Humanities Center Coordinator at Great Basin College in Elko, Nevada, as well as a writer, educator, and editor. An Ohio native, she did her graduate work in creative writing at the University of St. Andrews, Scotland, and taught undergraduate English in Indiana for sixteen years before relocating to Nevada. She has been a participant at Vermont Studio Center, Kenyon Review Writers Workshops and Breadloaf Environmental Writer Workshops; recently she was awarded a Fulbright to Queens University, Belfast, for the 2027 year. Her writing has been published in literary journals such as Fourth Genre, The Whale Road Review, and The Englewood Review. She is currently working on a creative nonfiction book about the US national parks.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

By Shayla Silvers

This spring, I have been lucky enough to work as a program intern here at Nevada Humanities. For my time at the organization, I have focused on facilitating an event that would align with the humanities values, alongside my own personal interests, to create an event to bring people together and share our stories. 

As an English major, I have always been drawn to storytelling. This manifested in different ways, but primarily in my knack for the exploration of ideas and concepts through something so simple as a few words. The summer before I started my first semester at the University of Nevada, Reno, I was overwhelmed with a whirlwind of emotions, as is any teenager on the brink of change. I found comfort in a little notebook and a pen, and spent hours writing down my thoughts. This served me very well and kept me grounded as everything around me began to shift and change into something new. I wished for others to find a similar outlet. 

In my three years as a Resident Assistant, I held annual journal making events to allow residents to personalize their own journal through collages and drawings. I believed half the fun of journaling was rooted in aesthetics, and one may be more inclined to write inside a journal that has more personality. I did not consider how daunting it may be, after the fact, to begin writing down thoughts and ideas that may come up. 

For my capstone project this semester, I wanted to encourage others to explore this outlet in a more intentional and in depth way. This event, [Around the Table]: A Journal Crafting and Writing Workshop, allowed for both elements of journaling to be touched on and addressed in a communal space. Our theme for the event, Around the Table, allowed us to focus on visuals and prompts relating to food, community, and shared traditions or experiences. This program allowed for participants to craft their own journal, write inside of it, and share about different ideas in what they wrote about.

During our program, participants were able to decorate their own journal using collage materials like stickers, print pages, and markers. Attendees were given the first hour to connect with their table and personalize their own notebook. During the second portion, we had allocated free writing time, and a list of prompts for participants to delve into. We were able to share some of these ideas and journal entries following this writing time, allowing a multitude of perspectives and stories to be shared throughout the event. 

I feel fortunate to have had this opportunity to share some of my own stories and hear others’ perspectives. It was a pleasure to be in the company of all program participants and for Nevada Humanities to allow me this opportunity to connect and grow. I hope it inspires individuals to use this outlet to express themselves, or to continue the search to find out what works for them!

Shayla Silvers is a former program intern with Nevada Humanities as part of the Pack Internship Grant Program at the University of Nevada, Reno.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

Recipe for a Beautiful Friendship 
By Mei-Mei Mijares and Niko Mendoza

Take 2 eldest daughters 

Make sure one is 
small-ER
the other is 
tall-ER

Steep them in responsibility—
Muddle under expectation
Tie sprigs of self-sacrifice with twine
Smoke in wood chips shaped 
like book pages, 
flavored with imagination
Arm them with brushes,
pens 
and ladles

Tenderize with tears for 
any emotion above a level 5 spice
Mix them at a fundraiser 
and jump for joy for EXACTLY 5 seconds

Sprinkle in 
cooking
picnics
painting and writing dates 

brimming with giggles off walls

Add a dash of sleepovers
ugly sobbing through k-dramas
Add a splash of vinegar 
to temper the saltiness of life, 
(and cause we're pilipino)
Bake at 350
Like all the best sweet things

like our own tsinelas at each other's houses, 
like sharing directly from our plates
like trading the same filled Tupperware forever

Serve with steaming mugs of tea
Over conversations in broken Tagalog but still fluent in familial tongues 
“Are you hungry?”|
“Did you eat yet?”
Speak love like our parents, in actions

Let's make 
Adobo, sinigang, bibimbap, arroz caldo
“Niko, kain tayo” 

“Mei, Relax! Don't wash those dishes”
The dishes are washed anyway

Recipe for a Beautiful Friendship was written by us for a Pho-etry workshop we did with Nevada Humanities last year. It tells the epic tale of our blossoming friendship that started in 2022 but really felt like uncovering a bulb of sisterhood that had been growing all along (Mei-Mei personally thinks that’s a little cheesy, but she also loves dairy). It truly was an intuitive recipe in the making, like the ones our parents struggle to pass down because they never use measuring instruments.

As eldest daughters in Filipino families, we were expected to be babysitters, cooks, cleaners, and academic extraordinaires at young ages—resulting in us aggressively and intentionally exploring whimsy later in life, where Niko paints angry cats and Mei-Mei impersonates her dad admonishing her for yapping too much. We are playing in the childhood we did not get to fully experience.

After meeting at an open mic fundraiser for the Love Yourself Foundation, we ran through the gamut of dates featuring our shared interests. Both English majors with a love of the written word, we started writing poetry alongside one another, giving feedback and teaching each other skills that we wanted to improve like performing and gaining more confidence to submit to the ether that is a writing or art contest. 

Although we are almost a decade apart in age, the bonds of being Filipino-American eldest daughters with a military arsenal of hobbies and talents made camaraderie a no-brainer. There was so much less translation and explanation, and a lot more flow-state action, understanding, and mutual appreciation of what the other could take care of without one even asking.

Even when we cook together, it feels seamless, where one person is on the next step before the other even asks. We speak up (very quickly)  and are super expressive (like full on grimace) when something is not to our liking (such as the time Niko made sinigang and—okay I may have gotten a little crazy with the taro). We both agree the sinigang became more of a... stew (which is my dad’s style of it but I did go a step too far). 

When Mei-Mei was invited to facilitate zine workshops for the Around the Table program, she thought of Niko immediately and, without question, called her because food and poetry are our shared great loves. And thus, in the Tous Les Jours on Spring Mountain, over oolong iced tea and curry pan, a truly beautiful friendship was transcribed into a recipe. Wishing you all at least one friendship as sweet.

Niko Mendoza is a Las Vegas-based artist and activist creating written and visual artworks that explore nature, nostalgia, and identity with humor, curiosity, and a sprinkle of sarcasm. An irregular in local exhibitions, Niko’s work is a joyful rebellion against perfectionism and "growing up," and a practice in simply growing both as an individual and as a community.

Mei-Mei Mijares has more hometowns than you. She spent her childhood on army bases across Texas, Tennessee, California, and Germany. She grew up with a book in her hands, including the time she fell and broke her leg in ninth grade. After graduating high school as class valedictorian, she went to UC Santa Barbara for her degree in English and a minor in German. Mei-Mei currently resides in Las Vegas pursuing a Master's in Couple & Family Therapy at UNLV. You can find her singing karaoke, enjoying D&D, playing pickleball, or painting magical landscapes. Her debut novel Unabashed is a conversation between her past and present self.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

By Angela M. Brommel

Tucked inside my copy of Who will love the earth is a photocopy of a poem James Kavanaugh wrote for Marydean Martin after her mother’s death, “For Vassie, who passed just before Christmas.” This February, Marydean Martin passed just before Valentine’s Day, just shy of ninety-seven years old. Much has been written since she passed about her extraordinary career in advertising and her philanthropic legacy, yet those who knew her well also knew Marydean as a constant and attentive poet.

Marydean Martin was born in 1929. Her family came to Nevada while her father worked at Hoover Dam. Since childhood, she wrote every day, throughout the day, in whatever notebook or on whatever scrap of paper or napkin was nearby. Because she was a night owl, I often woke to an email containing only a sentence or two about some extraordinary beauty she had witnessed the day before, sometimes accompanied by a photograph and a brief poem. She often invited friends—and soon-to-be friends—to write poems from prompts she pulled from her handbag, always following up later to ask for the finished poem.

Marydean was a poet of place whose keen eye captured the beauty of Nevada and the people who call it home. From early elementary school until recently she wrote daily about the land and the people she loved. There was no one she loved more than her husband of sixty-six years, Charlie Silvestri. Decades into their marriage, she continued to write tender reflections about her love and admiration for him: “A marvel, the kind of a man / who happens only once.”

Like Mary Oliver, Marydean walked daily, finding beauty and writing it down to share with others. Her daily walks, reading, and writing formed a kind of contemplative practice. Once, I noticed a small pyramid of books beside her sofa. “That’s my to-read pile,” she said.

She fiercely protected time late into the night for reading and writing. In the daytime, she wrote constantly in the margins of work notebooks and on napkins while waiting for clients and friends. Wherever she was, she noted beauty. I do not doubt that in her lifetime she wrote thousands of poems beyond those she chose to publish. One of the most splendid things to imagine is how many people may still be connected through the small poems Marydean sent us on any given day.

Once, I remarked to Marydean that neither her first nor last name was capitalized on her stationery or business logo. She told me this was because her favorite poet was e e cummings. There are many more stories I want to share about Marydean’s poetry, and someday I will. But for now, I will end with her own words, which capture both her poetry and the way she moved through the world: “you taught me / a new way of belonging.” 

Untitled
By Marydean Martin

If, as the say,
we are incurable
romantics
then, so be it.
And when we see 
rainbows in soft mists,
and when we hear
songs in the desert winds,
they ask us to interpret.

If, as they say,
we are incurable
dreamers
then, so be it.
And when we dare
to live imagined schemes,
and when we leave
boundaries behind us,
they ask us to teach them.

If, as they say,
we are incurable
wanderers
then, so be it.
And when we walk
paths not yet taken
and when we sail
magical calm seas,
they ask to come with us. 

Who will love the earth
By Marydean Martin

The people I seek to tell
my dreams, weave my spells
around, preach my causes,
the few I invite to touch
my mind, see my nakedness
are fleeting bits of light
finding a way through dense
foliage, forming shafts of 
brightness, reflecting on
soft leaves, glistening as
mirrors on moist particles.
I need those who never refuse
or elude fresh experiences
whose primary motivation 
is to fully utilize their
contact with the earth.

Constantly I search among
the foliage for those who
live a duel between the
base earth and the spirit,
who have need of isolation
and thirst for the throng, 
who yearn to fly, yet need
to stand firm on the land
as they divide into fragments
still able to remain as one.
The people I seek are those
who will love the earth when
I am gone, are you among them?

Marydean Martin, Who Will Love the Earth. Scorpion Press, 1982. Reproduced with permission.

Angela M. Brommel is a Nevada writer with Iowa roots. Brommel is the Clark County Poet Laureate (2022–2024) and is the author of Mojave in July (Tolsun Books) and Plutonium & Platinum Blond (Serving House Books). She serves as senior advisor and executive director for the arts at Nevada State University, where she oversees the Marydean Martin Writers’ Project. You can also find her at The Citron Review serving as editor-in-chief and poetry editor. angelambrommel.com

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

By Kathy Pham

It has been a little over a month since my end-of-the-year project as a Nevada Humanities intern: creating and leading the community program, Phoetry Night, which celebrated AAPI heritage through a conversation between a local Vietnamese restaurant owner, Vinh Nguyen, and UNLV professor and principal researcher of the Neon Pacific Initiative, Mark Padoongpatt; free pho sampling; and poetry performances and a creative writing activity led by local AAPI creatives Mei-Mei Mijares and Niko Mendoza. As I look back on my time at Nevada Humanities, I am forever grateful to be granted the opportunity to delve deeper into the vibrant AAPI community of Las Vegas and how they celebrate culture and the humanities.

At the program, we sampled bowls of special combination pho, courtesy of Vinh Nguyen and his team at Pho Vegas. Vinh, the newest owner of Pho Vegas, shared his many stories and what led him to where he is today, shaping Pho Vegas to be awarded as one of the 2025 Top Three Vietnamese Restaurants in Las Vegas. He shared his many challenges when he was working to earn his two degrees, and the many doubts he faced while being a restaurant owner, but all in all he never gave up and persevered through passion and hard work.

Mei Mei and Niko’s poetry performances tugged at my heartstrings, combining both humor and raw human emotion. Growing up, I experienced similar expressions of love from my family through home-cooked meals and dinner talks. Food is such an important part of AAPI culture, where it is notoriously difficult to receive words of affirmation or physical touch from family members, despite knowing that they loved us dearly. I loved hearing their unique poems and the welcoming space that allowed other attendees to share what food means to them.

Along with creating this event, I also had the chance to interview other Vietnamese chefs so they could share their stories and bring a voice to the hardworking restaurant industry of Vegas. I first had the pleasure of interviewing Tan Vo, the restaurant owner of Pho Viet Cafe. His restaurant first started in Bend, Oregon, where it was voted the Number One Asian Restaurant of the year. In 2008, during the housing crash and as individuals lost their jobs, Bend’s economy collapsed. But because of that reason, Tan decided to move to Bend to open his restaurant and share his cooking to comfort the community. Taking this risk allowed Pho Viet Cafe to thrive somewhere unconventional. After 14 years, he sold his restaurant to his good friend. Tan and Tammy, his wife and restaurant partner, then moved to Las Vegas, where he has resided for the last three years.

During his time as a restaurant owner, Tan has always stayed determined and positive. “Always so proud to be an Asian American,” Tan says. “My personal target is to come to the United States of America to try for a new life, to prove to the American people that we, Asian, Vietnamese Americans — if you can do it, I can do it. If I’m not doing better, maybe I’ll do equal, maybe a little bit less, but I will do all my best.” I asked if he has faced any challenges while being an Asian American, to which Tan replied, “Not at all … you need to offer love to others. You always smile and respect, and with that in mind, you get very good results.” His perspective showed the love and care he puts into his cooking and business, and it is no wonder that many return to Pho Viet Cafe for the sheer comfort and hospitality.

Tan shared with me one of his greatest memories that has inspired his perspective of sharing love and receiving good karma. In Bend, when he was building his new restaurant, he had spent almost his last dollar on the place for the grand opening. Unfortunately, they failed the final inspection on a tiny electrical issue, preventing them from opening and postponing a secondary inspection until another week. Knowing they had already prepped and stocked the food, it would all go bad if they couldn’t open in time. Amidst the distraught, Tan had a plan in mind. He gathered his documents and went to the city manager himself. “I know you guys are so excited for the first brand new Vietnamese restaurant to open here. And I said, it’s likely not gonna happen, unless each of you lends me $500,” Tan remarks. After explaining his situation, with only having $108 left in his bank account, they agreed to hear him out and see what they could do. Eventually, they organized for an electrician to fix the issue, and they were willing to re-inspect at 9 pm so they could open the next day. “Let me say, many years in America, I never heard anybody in the city working after hours.” At 9:30 pm, they fortunately passed the test, and Tan recalls it as one of his most wonderful memories and a gift that he cherishes from the Bend community.

I also had the chance to speak with Ngan, a chef at Pho Bac Bac. She only knew how to speak Vietnamese, but I did not want a language barrier to get in the way of someone sharing their story, so thankfully, I had the help of my mother as a translator. Ngan moved from Vietnam to Massachusetts and has been living in Las Vegas for three years. One of the challenges she faced was the struggle to learn English, but overall, she has been thankful for the many opportunities that America provided for her, such as being more open and providing better job opportunities to support their families.

Ngan had been cooking in the restaurant for two and a half years, but actually started cooking for her family around 13 years old, and cited her mother as a role model who gave her lots of experience. When I asked about the pressure to change recipes to suit the tastes of American customers, Ngan mentioned that she pushes for Americans to try traditional Vietnamese dishes, day by day. The number one thing she learned from the restaurant industry was that despite the stress, she prioritizes the happiness of the customer and sharing her cooking; so as long as they were happy, she was as well. Finally, I asked how Ngan believed Southern Nevada could become more inclusive and supportive of Asian Americans. When compared to bigger churches and religious holidays, she wishes for the Buddhist temples to grow bigger and expand their community and freedoms, as well as improve safety for Asian Americans to protect against AAPI-targeted violence. Overall, I was thankful for Ngan’s time and patience, as she was excited to share her story despite her busy schedule and language efforts.

I greatly enjoyed my time as a Nevada Humanities intern, and I feel like I got to learn a lot more about the AAPI community in Las Vegas. Asian Americans in the restaurant industry have deservedly been receiving more recognition now than ever. Interviewing these individuals and spotlighting Pho Vegas at my Phoetry Night event allowed me to learn more about the Asian American community. AAPI individuals are often stereotyped and perceived to be passive, keeping their heads down, and known as the “silent” model minority, but my internship at Nevada Humanities has reinforced the importance of storytelling and giving a voice to those who usually may not get the chance to speak. I am grateful for the Neon Pacific Initiative and the great work they are doing to uplift and share the tales of Asian Americans in Southern Nevada. Learning about the backgrounds of these diverse communities is essential to the humanities and understanding the human experience.

I would love to keep spreading these hard-working individuals’ stories of perseverance and faith, whether that be by fostering connections or bringing the community together through sharing, learning, and programming. After Phoetry Night, I hope to have left attendees with a greater sense of community and belonging, and I can’t wait to see Nevada Humanities’ future programming.

Kathy Pham is a third-year sociology student at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, and recently served as an Events Intern for Nevada Humanities. Kathy enjoys working with nonprofit organizations to make an impact in her community and uplift marginalized voices. She is passionate about the AAPI community, women’s rights, education, and mental health. In her free time, she enjoys spending time with friends and family and trying new foods.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

This blog post is generously provided in kind by Angela M. Brommel. The Double Down blog is also supported by Nevada Humanities’ donors.

By Angela M. Brommel

After nearly twenty-five years as a Nevada resident and poet, recently my poems moved from the landscape to the sky. My earliest poems came from first experiences hiking in the desert after moving here from the Midwest. It makes sense that for many years I was looking down at what was new, what might be dangerous if I didn’t pay attention.

Every day there are so many reasons to look down. I look down so that I don’t trip on the stairs. I look down at my phone because hardly anyone calls anymore when a text is so easy. When I walk with my dog, Emma, I look down to see the world through her eyes. One of my greatest joys is watching her happiness while she does dog things like rolling in the clover.

Late fall I was at an outdoor event in Henderson when I heard someone mention a paraglider. Instead of looking down at my feet, down at my phone, or down at someone else’s cute dog, I looked up and caught a man crossing the sky in a powered paraglider.

In the Greek story of Icarus and Daedalus, the son and father escape being imprisoned by King Minos by creating wings from bird feathers, bits of clothing, and bees wax. I still remember how my high school Latin teacher peered over her glasses as she emphasized that Icarus fell from the sky because he didn’t listen to his father. Even if this story is unknown, the phrase “too close to the sun” is still used to suggest that we guard ourselves against reaching for or being too much.

But facing the McCullough Range at sunset, that old story quickly dissipated for me. There are times when the resistance to your desire to fly should be ignored because the unknown could lead to unimaginable beauty. If you can choose that happiness no matter the heaviness of the day, you are returning to the thing that grants you flight.

Gazing up

You see a man on a powered hang glider against the McCullough Range
as the sun sets, imagining him coming home at the end of the day
foot on pedal, impatient, wanting only to fly again.

All day long the people are people-ing so hard it feels impossible
to breathe sometimes. The only free place left is in the sky.
The man passes between two black peaks, crossing

a neon pink and azure sky. The children in their houses,
after a long ride on the school bus and another packaged snack,
hear the sound outside like a lawnmower in the clouds.

They run to the yard asking, how is this possible? Unlike the dreams
where we run as fast as we can, flap our arms or furiously part
the air with a heavy breaststroke, this man lifts into the sky with ease.

Universe, hear us down here bearing the weight of too much humanness.

Make us light like the flying descendants of dinosaurs. Make us light
like our neighbor who has found a way to leave it all behind,
albeit briefly, one bright flight at a time.

Angela M. Brommel is a Nevada writer with Iowa roots, and the recent past Clark County Poet Laureate. She is the author of Mojave in July (Tolsun Books) and Plutonium & Platinum Blond (Serving House Books). At The Citron Review, she serves as Editor-in-Chief and Poetry Editor. To learn more about Angela M. Brommel visit angelambrommel.com.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

By Jesse James Ziegler

I recently had the opportunity to be interviewed and share some poetry on the Spoken Views Radio Hour, hosted by Griffin Peralta on the local 97.7 FM KWNK station, as an exit interview of sorts, for my tenure as City of Reno Poet Laureate. Two years seemed to fly by in a blink, until I sat down and deeply reflected on everything that was packed into my seven hundred and thirty days, holding the honorary role for the Biggest Little City in the World. Thank you, Griffin and KWNK Radio for giving me a foundational outline to build upon for this blog post. This is not an exhaustive list of worthwhile questions, amazing events, glorious organizations, inspiring individuals, and much deserved flowers, but it’s a hearty attempt. I’m easy to find if you’d like to talk more on any subject of interest.

What’s your process? How do you literally write a poem?

Notes App or journal entry. A lot of prompt writing. I always have something with me to write with and write on. I usually start off with some sort of inspiration, like a title or a first line, and build from there.

Why do you make art? What effect do you hope it has on the audience?

Catharsis. Connection. Community. I hope others feel safe, heard, seen, not-so-alone, and uniquely valued.

What inspires you to write? What might you encounter that would make you want to write?

Songs, podcasts, books, memes, films, photography, anniversaries, special events, legacy moments, sermons, prayers, conversations, dreams, visions, other artwork, death and dying, grief and loss, celebrations of life, online prompts, workshop prompts, and other creatives.

What sort of events have you participated in or exhibited your poetry at that you felt were memorable?

Nevada Humanities Literary Crawl, Inaugural Truckee Lit Crawl, Inaugural and 2nd Annual Tahoe Literary Festival, Mark Twain Days, Las Vegas Book Festival, Black Rock Press publication of broadsides with Meg and Bekah Sullivan, Metro Gallery Exhibit, Poetry and Jazz night to honor Langston Hughes at the Nevada Museum of Art along with Sapphire Jazz Ensemble Reno and Kashae Felix, Something Seen: Humanities Under the Stars with Shaun Griffin and Melanie Perish hosted by Tony Berendsen (and family) at the Northstar Cosmorarium, Celebrando La Ascendencia: Dia de Los Muertos, 40th Festival of the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering, Hosting The Art of Words at the Artist Co-Op of Reno, Poetry at the Backyard and Poetry at the Tahoe Wine Collective, Night at the Library with Huffaker Elementary, Poetry in the Parks at both Empire Mine and Tahoe City Gatekeeper’s Museum with the California Parks Foundation, Poetry in the Parks at Crissie Caughlin park in the Idlewild chain and Hunter Creek Wilderness through Nevada Humanities and Truckee Meadows Parks Foundation, Inaugural Dinner on the Bridge with the Sierra Arts Foundation, and many University Open Mics.

What are some common topics or subjects of your writing?

Light and dark and the gray areas in between, social commentary, social activism, good and evil, God, the night sky, mountains, doggies, birds, and chosen family.

What have been the best parts of being Poet Laureate?

The opportunities and the relationships. The growth in craft and the growth as a human being along the journey.

Because of the title, what doors were opened for you, or what things did you get involved in? What advice would you give the next Poet Laureate?

***Gestures broadly*** SEE ABOVE as well as The Tahoe Poetry Collective, UNR Brushfire Open Mic, Nevada Poetry Society, Sierra Arts Literary Community, Sierra Poetry Festival, Collective Breath Poetry Book Club, Monday Night Poetry, and True Colors Poetry, along with multiple appearances on KOLO ABC with Katie Roshetko.

Our community was featured on PBS Reno as a segment in their Arteffects series and was able to haul in back-to-back best open mic wins through the Reno News and Review Best of annual competition in 2024 and 2025. We’ve also happily been gifted the opportunity for the forthcoming anthology of poetry Is It Monday Yet? (2026, Moon Tide Press).

To any future Poet Laureate: give the role and the community everything you have to give. Pour it all out there. Leave everything on the table and keep helping to build longer tables so that more and more folks can have a seat. Read as much as you possibly can. Our community needs poetry now more than ever.

Have you been to a workshop that you found particularly interesting? What was the prompt?

Wild Western Wordsmiths with Reena Spansail and Griffin Peralta in collaboration with Nevada Humanities at The Holland Project. I also thoroughly enjoyed Michelle Myers on the subject of Art as Activism.

Thank Yous and Bouquets of Flowers

God, for giving me a love and a gift to help carry me home on those darkest nights. My Mom for carrying me into this world and supporting me when I couldn’t support myself. Mary, Holly and Dave of the Bruka Theatre. Jessey Richards and Riley Blossom. Dana and Michelle of Reno Arts News and the Creatives Talk Podcast. Tia Flores and Nohemy Velasco. Melody Jane Photo for doing headshots and being a multi-talented artist in her own right. Kathleen Kuo, George Lam, and Alyda Dickens, Priya Hutner and Katherine Hill, Shaun Griffin, Scott Green, Gailmarie Pahmeier, Karen Terrey, Lindsay Wilson, Max Stone, and Paige Clarno. Pax Robinson and Coley Whisman. Teresa Breeden, Susan Sarah Priest, Kathy Nelson, Melanie Perish, Courtney Clifton. and Joanne Mallari. Lafe Benson and Jon Frye. J Macon and Perry King. Krystal and Shelby. Eric Morago of Moon Tide Press. Alon, Matty D. and Kenny. Rachel and Alex. Scoot, Levi, Megan, Caleb, Sophia and Erin. Serena and Justin Abramson. Marleta and Erik Fong. Eric Brooks, Valerie Neish Moore, Jamie Lynn Woodham, Anna Freeman, and Spike McGuire. Brandon Leake and Derrick C Brown. Andrew Coffey. Camilla Downs. Stacey Spain and the breathtakingly beautiful people of Our Center.

Monday Night Poetry and True Colors Poetry Regulars (you know who you are). There are so many beautiful souls I get to co-create with. There are too many to list but I owe you each a hug. Special shout out to Jasmin, Colton, Local Legend Courtney Kelly, Nicole, Niki, Nikki, Harland, Timothy, Cloe, Ace, Mary, and Raymond for helping to keep me going when I was at my lowest points or just needing someone to talk with.

Everyone in my Sunday afternoon writing workshop. Thank you for welcoming and tolerating me.

My inspiring Las Vegas Poets: Ms AyeVee Ashley Vargas, Vogue Robinson, Heather Lang Cassera, Angela Brommel, Bruce Isaacson, Sin À Tes Souhaits, Bobbie Ann Howell, Elle Hope, Kreative Kenn, and Steven Dee Kish.

My Goddaughters: Isis, Schae, Cheyenne, Harleigh, and Ashlyn. Mama Jane.

Ean Darbo and Dave Alfred for putting up with the beginning years of my love for poetry and all of the years since.

Reno Arts and Culture Commission members Erica Hill, Megan Berner, Christian Davies, and Anza Jarschke, before they left.

My Spoken Views Collective OGs: Iain Watson, Griffin Peralta, Elisa Garcia, Shaughn Richardson, Steve Elegant, and Pan Pantoja. Thank you, Iain, for sharing the vision, blueprint, and heart of what this all can be on its best days. All of western Nevada owes you.

Church opportunities to share poetry: Rebecca Brown, Matthew McDowell, and Connie Friend.

Terrence Hammond from the Metro Gallery at City Hall for the City of Reno

To anyone who ever broke my heart or let me down, which added fuel to the fire.

And last, but certainly not least, my wife Amanda McHenry for holding it down when she has her own extremely busy schedule to deal with and making it to everything she possibly could in spite of high demands that she’s under. We always find time to sneak in paranormal thrillers, Bravo TV, Christmas movies, prayer time, and cuddles with Honey.

Jesse James Ziegler is Poet Laureate for the City of Reno (2024–2025). He is the vice president of Spoken Views Collective, the creative director for Monday Night Poetry, True Colors Poetry, and Collective Breath Poetry Book Club. He holds leadership positions within both the Sierra Arts Literary Community and the Nevada Poetry Society. He opened and hosted the world premieres of Brandon Leake’s original spoken word play Insomnia (Winner of America’s Got Talent, Season 15). His work has been published by Nevada Humanities, Moon Tide Press, The Bruka Theatre of the Sierra, The Mill Valley Literary Review, Strophes, KUNR and KWNK radio, PBS, Black Rock Press and Multnomah University Press.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

Being a third-year first-generation college student to immigrant parents, I take great pride in my Vietnamese heritage and background. Being once ashamed of my complexion and home-made packed school lunches, I now proudly share these things as a part of my identity. Throughout high school, I embraced my differences and learned to love every part of my Vietnamese self. With my acceptance into the University of Nevada, Las Vegas (UNLV), I especially relished the diversity of students and found myself among other like-minded individuals.

Growing up in a predominantly white K-12 school, I always felt like part of the “other”. I envied people’s shiny blonde hair and their American school lunches consisting of turkey sandwiches and yogurt. I remember shrinking in embarrassment when I opened my container to release the aromas of pungent spices and interesting-looking meats. I wolfed down my meals every time I was at home, but self-consciousness bubbled in my stomach, rendering me too full of insecurity to eat. Eventually, this fear dissipated, and I am ever so grateful for the privilege of having my mother make home-cooked, authentic Vietnamese dishes passed down from her ancestors in Hue.

Pho is one of the most iconic Vietnamese dishes. It is a savory broth soup served with rice noodles, thinly sliced meat, and a myriad of toppings such as cilantro, bean sprouts, lime, and green onions. It can be customized to be light or hearty, simple, or complex. This soup has always been deemed a Vietnamese comfort dish.

This semester, I am lucky to be an Events Intern at Nevada Humanities, in partnership with the Neon Pacific Initiative, a Mellon Foundation-funded initiative to expand the study of the race, place, and culture of Asian American and Pacific Islander communities in Las Vegas. I learned a lot about the humanities, which, to me, is the study, observance, and celebration of the cultural aspects that comprise our daily lives. In particular, I gravitated towards folklore and learning about the everyday application of the humanities, where I learned that there are both oral traditions (where the art involves spoken word) and material culture (traditional hand-crafted objects, including cultural foods). It was exciting to me that the little things we carry in our lives, such as the food we eat and the clothes we wear, can be studied and preserved as a part of our identity and heritage.

For my end-of-the-semester program, I am organizing a community event that highlights AAPI voices through the sharing of food, storytelling, and expression. Join us for Phoetry Night in the Beverly Rogers Literature and Law Building (RLL) Room 101 on the UNLV campus on Sunday, December 14, from 5:00 to 7:00 pm for a conversation between Vinh, the owner of the restaurant Pho Vegas, and Dr. Mark Padoongpatt of UNLV. Free pho samples are limited to the first 20 registrants, but feel free to Bring Your Own Pho to participate in the tasting notes! Afterwards, local AAPI writers Mei-Mei Mijares and Niko Mendoza will perform readings of their original poems, followed by a group writing workshop.

I am grateful for my experience at Nevada Humanities, and I truly learned a lot about the Asian American community. I hope my event will bring individuals together and leave them with both their hearts and stomachs content. I can’t wait to see you there!

Kathy Pham is a third-year sociology student at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, currently serving as an Events Intern for Nevada Humanities. Kathy enjoys working with nonprofit organizations to make an impact in her community and uplift marginalized voices. She is passionate about the AAPI community, women’s rights, education, and mental health. In her free time, she enjoys spending time with friends and family and trying new foods.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

This blog post is generously provided in kind by Jodi Jill. The Double Down blog is also supported by Nevada Humanities’ donors.

By Jodi Jill

Puzzles? When I think about puzzles it brings absolute joy. Whether sharing the different names of jigsaw puzzle pieces shapes with a classroom or discussing a crossword clue, it’s a passion that brings me happiness. And it all started with a dream of finding puzzle friends.

When I grew up, I didn’t live in a normal place as we lived in a storage unit for 11 years. It was the size of a garage and during this time, there was no school or outside world. We were locked up. While there was much sadness in this situation, I promised myself there had to be something better outside that door.

One thing that truly made my life happy was puzzles. Depending on the type, I could challenge myself without the scrutiny of others and learn at my pace. This idea is the foundation of my puzzle love and my desire to make Puzzle Day everything it has become.

It’s been over 30 years since I started Puzzle Day, but it seems like yesterday. It started with the idea of sharing puzzles with kids and hoping to find individuals who love puzzles as much as I do. With work, passion, and giving away a lot of puzzles it’s become a fun thing the world celebrates today. Fast forward to the upcoming Puzzle Day celebration and, just like last year, millions of people participate on January 29 playing a puzzle their own way.

What is even more amazing is that people kept telling me that one day wasn’t enough, so I created Puzzle Month, too. Spanning all of January, in 2026 there will once again be 31 days of fun and it’s the 20th anniversary. Both opportunities are for everyone. I just pinch myself thinking about all the puzzle fun that’s been had over the years!

Puzzles are more common in our world than you might think. With 1.2 billion dollars of new puzzles being sold every year, people love the challenges of the 900 types of puzzles available. And there are various levels of difficulty so everyone can join the fun. Shockingly, there has been a consumer shift, too. Over half of all new puzzles are sold in Puzzle Month. 

Where are the Puzzles?

There are so many puzzles in our lives. The kids are using puzzles to tickle their brains and seniors too. We conquer puzzles on job applications, find them on the back of grocer ads, and even see them on cereal boxes. Plus, we love playing jigsaw puzzles on the dining room table. Yes, puzzles are everywhere.

This Puzzle Day and, if you love puzzles as much as I do, Puzzle Month, I invite you to enjoy your favorite puzzle. Be it an Escape Room (some of the best are in Nevada), a new jigsaw, or a word teaser, take time to bring some puzzling fun to your lives. It’s good for the soul, helps sharpen the brain, and offers some well-deserved fun time! 

Happy Puzzle Day!

Get to know more about Jill’s work and learn how to get involved with Puzzle Day at the Humanities at Play online program on December 20, 2025.

Jodi Jill is the founder of Puzzle Day and Puzzle Month. Her life's work involves educating people around her joy of puzzles. She happily admits she knows way too many puzzle facts. She also enjoys her adopted fur monster, June Bug and is obsessed with monorails. As a former monorail driver, she loves to ride the Las Vegas monorail every chance she gets.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

Kyra Lalas is one of the winners of the 2025 Spark! Youth Poetry Competition at the Las Vegas Book Festival.

By Kyra Lalas

i hunt the demon that goes bump in the night
but first i ask if they’d like to take a bath
i take a sponge and scrub
at the filth, wet, and slop
until it comes off effortless and neat
i towel their spine and they brush their teeth
read them bedtime stories where they sleep

so they can know the comfort of safety
of warm sheets, laundry soap, and childish dreams

i hunt the werewolf who howls at the moon’s dimming light
but i ask if he’d like any dinner first
treat him to a good meal, fatten him up
with promises sweet savory and true

come high moon i card my fingers through his hair
tell him Let’s go play fetch and watch his eyes when he sees
the sky’s biggest bouncy ball for him to chew as he’d please

i hunt frankenstein’s monster who wakes with a lightning strike
but at least i call him by his name
take him to the parts of the world he was not born into
where you can be unapologetic and unashamed

i read him dictionaries and definitions
teach him synopses and synonyms
read him literature with unwritten meanings

if he was only the bits and pieces of parts stitched together
at least he could invent a whole with his own brains

i hunt dracula whose voice curdles blood in fright
but we talk for what feels like centuries
open bougie wine in his castle and laugh our sorrows down
in reds rich, pyrite, and bitter
i see bathrooms and bedrooms and banquet halls
paintings of man and woman ornate on every wall
never any mirrors
i only find him in the unused flash of his full-bodied laughter
i will send someone to clean all his windows
so he too can taste the light of gold, and learn the taste of silver

i hunt every monster who makes noise in the night
i come at every call, every slight, every sight
of beings with beady eyes and claws and fangs
but i will fill each of their stomachs
provide knowledge and comfort and company
it does not make you a monster
for not having a way to be saved

Kyra Lalas is a junior at the Coral Academy of Science Sandy Ridge campus in Las Vegas, Nevada. She has a dual passion for the arts and the sciences, and aspires to be a concert pianist and an engineer. When not writing poetry, Kyra can often be found practicing piano and trumpet, rehearsing a speech, cracking bad jokes, or simply relaxing with a cup of coffee.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

Sara Wang is one of the winners of the 2025 Spark! Youth Poetry Competition at the Las Vegas Book Festival.

By Sara Wang

When I was four, I fell. 
Not metaphorically. 
I tumbled, flailed my arms, and wailed 
As I came crashing down 
To my bedroom floor at 1am. 

My parents installed these springy steel structures 
The next day, inspired by both love and paranoia. 
They attached to both ends of my bedpost, 
Cradling to the sides of my bed like a comforting, 
but sterile, hug. 

That night, I crawled into my blankets. 
I hated the squeak of the metal against metal, 
But the sound felt like safety. 

Months went by. 
The marks on my door frame grew taller. 
Shoes were replaced.
My handwriting grew neater, 
And my stuffed animals began to collect dust. 

One day, walking into my room, 
They were gone. 
The crisp white wings that had extended 
Toward me every night. 
Were gone.

I ran up to my parents.
“You’re grown now! 
No more of these silly barricades.” 
It was strange 
How empty safety sounded. 

My bed felt smaller. 
The floor felt closer. 
The quiet felt louder. 

But I still slept in the middle, 
Half trusting the edge, 
And half missing the rails 
Habits are harder to outgrow than height. 

I found them again last week, deeply dug in the garage, 
The metal dulled, the hinges stiff. 
I realized, they were never meant to keep me from falling, 
Only to teach me that I could get back up. 

I used to think growing up meant not falling anymore. 
But maybe it means trusting the fall, 
And knowing there’s more to reach for 
Then there ever was to hold onto. 
Maybe it means leaning toward the edge 
Learning to love the space 
Beyond where the rails used to be.

Sara Wang is a freshman at Bishop Gorman High School in Las Vegas, Nevada. She loves writing and storytelling, and especially enjoys exploring themes related to the environment and identity. In her free time, she likes photography, playing guitar, and scrapbooking.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

By Bobbie Ann Howell

Growing up in Nevada, one of the coolest things was our celebration of Nevada Day. Out of school, often heading to a theme park in California filled with kids from Nevada, or heading out to Lake Mead or hiking the Valley of Fire and, of course, planning for the best places to secure a trick-or-treat haul. Nevada Day is special for many reasons, we are a state often only thought of by outsiders in terms of the images of Las Vegas, Reno, and Lake Tahoe. But those of us who call it home find a certain pride in calling ourselves Nevadans. We know Nevada was born in the midst of an epic national crisis, thus our motto, “Battle Born”.  I still love the fact that Nevada sent its constitution in the midst of the Civil War, to Washington, D.C. At the time it was the longest Morse code telegraph sent just in the nick of time to secure our electoral votes in the 1864 “election of a lifetime.” Nevada still impacts national events even in these modern times, still relevant in reminding each of us of our national duty on election day.

Nevada’s vast beauty and contrasting landscapes are amazing in a myriad of ways. Still a land of the unknown, discoveries can be made, places where ancient creatures once swam around what are now our highest peaks, receding waters carving signature contours across landscapes, rocks telling us stories of those who walked these meadows, valleys, and lived along its rivers in times past. We have the Bristlecone Pine, creosote, Joshua trees, and sagebrush that have been sentinels reminding us of the fragility of nature while bearing witness to change.  Deep artesian wells that have held life-sustaining water from our snowy ridges as the mighty Colorado passes beside us. Nevada keeps its waters in the Great Basin, holds its deep dark sky to show off the Milky Way.  It finds a place for thousands to visit together in the tourist-filled valley or leaving space to explore the quiet of the Ruby’s, hear the wind on the Black Rock Desert, or be amazed at the smallest of wildflowers within the desert crust.   

Nevada encompasses a vast area, yet we are still relatively small in population; even like all the Western states, we are growing. Many of our basin and mountain ranges are part of public lands, belonging not just to us but to the nation. The balance of the West is hard won, and keeping an eye on it is a task we must all embrace. We want to show this place to our future ancestors and know that love of place, of home, of what is needed to secure the blessings of Liberty is an ongoing responsibility.  

Home means Nevada if that is what you choose. It is something Nevada Humanities strives to share with everyone and each Nevada Day, we take joy in sending a Happy Nevada Day card across the state, hoping everyone will take a moment and reflect on the privilege it is to be here. The 2025 Nevada Day eCard was created from a sampling of the hundreds of people of Nevada who have taken a moment to join us in creating their own Nevada, P.S. I Love You Postcard, sharing a note about what they love about Nevada with someone they love or maybe even a Silver State stranger. Thank you. Keep up the good work. 

Bobbie Ann Howell grew up in beautiful Lee Canyon, Nevada, a mountain community northwest of the Las Vegas valley. Born in a state that has dramatic contrasts from the desert valleys to high mountain vistas, from crowed urban centers to the open windswept spaces that are a part of her life and in turn her art. Howell attended school in Indian Springs, NV, and graduated from Western High School in Las Vegas, NV. Her bachelor of fine arts is from Abilene Christian University in Abilene, Texas. She received her master of fine arts in sculpture and drawing from Southern Illinois University, Edwardsville, Ill. 

Her experience includes working in the arts and humanities in cultural centers, museums, as an educator, curator, and artist in residence. She is currently a program manager for Nevada Humanities. She works from her studio, B.E.S.T. Arts 4 U, in Las Vegas, Nevada. Her artworks are in public and private collections and exhibited in regional and national exhibitions, and through public art projects. Howell was part of the 2017 ArtPop Street Gallery where one of her artworks was displayed on a billboard along Interstate 15 in Las Vegas, NV, and in 2023 and 2018 she was awarded the Nevada Arts Council Visual Art Fellowship Award.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

By Jarret Keene

To live in Las Vegas is to dwell in contradiction. Our city is all about the control of water, with our Strip-centered techno-fountains and fake canals. Surrounded by an austere desert that sun-ravages everything manmade, Las Vegas blissfully transforms scarcity into a holy substance. While tourists play, residents remove the grass from their yards, replacing the green with beige rocks. Lake Mead, meanwhile, stands as a fading memory of better days, the “bathtub rings” growing deeper and more dire. Here, water is more than history; it’s a symbol of the burden future residents will bear for our indulgences.

Water defines survival, dictating what can be built and where life thrives. Water determines how long we will exist. For these reasons, writers living here feel that agony of existence whenever we venture from our neighborhoods and survey the valley: Bone-dry washes. Lavish golf courses spawned from hidden reservoirs. Lake Mead’s surface shrinking every year. Prosperity and fragility are the two-headed snake that we dare not pick up and examine too closely.

Conceptually, Las Vegas writers, I have noticed, address this tension for inspiration. This dynamic is explored in Monsoon Season, the sixteenth volume in the Las Vegas Writes series. The book gathers both established and emerging voices, from essays of loss by Marlene Roque and Scott Dickensheets to lyrical meditations on desert rainfall by Erika Dagri and John L. Smith. As a collective work, Monsoon Season affirms that Las Vegas’s literary scene is as vital and surprising as the storms that sweep across the valley.

In this book, and in our desert, water serves as a powerful symbol, a muse and a warning, proof that in the Mojave, life insists on flowing. Stories, like rivers and floods, carve their way through caliche, leaving behind channels that endure long after a downpour.

Jarret Keene is an assistant professor in the Department of English at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, where he teaches fiction writing and the graphic novel. He is the series editor for Las Vegas Writes—a program of Nevada Humanities and published by Huntington Press. He is the author of the dystopian adventure novel Hammer of the Dogs, published by the University of Nevada Press, and the Kid Crimson series of western novels—about the youngest, deadliest, and most handsome hired gun in Virginia City, Nevada—published in 2024 by Wolfpack. His latest book is the story collection Gateways to Annihilation, published by Dark Wolf. Keene has been featured in Writer’s Digest, Publisher’s Weekly, EcoTheo Review, Library Thing, Black Fox Literary Magazine, Tupelo Quarterly, and Coast to Coast AM. He was recently inducted into the Nevada Writer’s Hall of Fame by the University Libraries at the University of Nevada, Reno.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

By Safiyya Bintali

“Water.”

The third college essay prompt choice, consisting of just those five letters. Water. Even all these years later, I remember how it unbalanced the rest of the list, that single word precariously placed beneath the multi-question paragraphs that made up prompts one and two. That long-ago fall, thousands of others alongside me also looked at that word. And undoubtedly, not one of us came up with the same response. 

After all, physically, the form water takes changes depending on what it is contained in. It does the same for us—it is shaped by our experiences. For some of us, water is the wolf contained in growling rapids, leaping past rocks or the gentle ambient noise of waves lapping the shore, ceaselessly. For others, it is an attempt at the philosophical question of glasses being half full or empty, or a rallying cry for conservation.

Whatever the undergraduate admissions committee read that fall, it meant the same thing in the end. Water is life. Not only because of chemistry and biology, but because that is what it is defined by.

For those of us that live in the desert, the way it shows up in our lives is distinct from places that are nicknamed “10,000 Lakes” or see what feels like buckets of it coming down each week. This does not mean to say that we don’t have those “traditional” experiences with water; after all, Lake Mead’s in the news often enough, and we do have a monsoon season. But, these vast, natural quantities—these bodies of water—are not always the first thing that comes to mind. For me, I always think of the Pittman Wash after a rare bout of rain, which I illustrated for the cover of Monsoon Season: Las Vegas Writers on Water in the Desert—the 16th volume of Las Vegas Writes. 

While I have heard it roar when a storm passes through, the most water I have seen in the Wash are the dregs, once the air has dried up a bit and the ground has soaked in most of the moisture. The clouds are still packed tightly in the sky, but the sun pokes out, gold-white veins promising a brighter day. And there it is, stretching the length of the Wash’s bed, a ribbon of silver water. It’s like you took a hammer to the bed and shattered it, uncovering a plate of light beneath, unevenly shining through the rock and brush and weeds. Yet, this little stream—it’s always temporary. It comes back, but you never know quite when; so, when you see it, you break away from your path to follow it. Along the way, you discover tiny versions of the great monuments it mimics: a waterfall trickling over a pile of pebbles, a little pool that begins to attract wildlife. Perhaps it isn’t the majestic sea or a place to paddle, but it is a sparkling remnant after the rare storm, one that quenches the soul like it quenches the earth.

The desert—it is full of these little oases. 

As you venture through this volume of Las Vegas Writes, you will have the opportunity to see the many ways other locals live and share the experience of water. Through it, you will become that college essay prompt: across histories of the Valley and of its people, poems and reminiscences, letters and photos, water will be redefined, over and over.

Safiyya Bintali is a writer, artist, and eLearning professional. Her comics and short fiction have been featured in Las Vegas Writes, Pictura Journal, Devoid Magazine, and Bridge Eight Press, among others. Her illustrations are upcoming in multiple children's and YA projects, and she has most recently illustrated the story collection Fabulous Fables and Fairytales: with a Twist (Grosvenor House Publishing, 2022). Also an educator, Safiyya teaches, develops curriculum for literature courses, and often guest lectures on the topic of comics. Visit www.safiyyabintali.com to find more of her work.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

By Sydney Martinez

When’s the last time you were set up to truly discover without the distraction of civilization, a digital nuisance, or anybody else? Where you can let your eyes focus on something far away and for a long time, and hear nothing but your own internal monologue?

After many years traveling to Nevada’s deepest, darkest corners together—Jonny, our dog Elko, and I—we’ve been fortunate enough to live a lot of awe-filled moments of authentic surprise. Where you can wonder what’s off in the distance down enormous valleys and even longer mountain ranges, and then legally follow the road to figure out what’s at the other end, which has turned into an unending quest.

All of the American West is celebrated for its mystery, enormity and beauty—everywhere except Nevada—which most people know only for Las Vegas, and the place the U.S. government decided was so empty, lifeless, and desolate it was the perfect place to blow up. But it’s true—these absurd stigmas that Nevada is genuinely beat up with—they exist for partially good reasons: most of its most special places are difficult to access, usually moderately dangerous, and tough to sustain for long periods of time comfortably. It’s mysterious, and to us, the most misunderstood state in the West.

As we sat out there that night, watching the steam swirl above us and disappear into a gravel road of stars, we talked about what it is that keeps us coming back out to this ultra-rural terrain over and over again and in the many nights since. We realized a large part of it is the challenge of what’s required to actually experience the special places, as if we have to prepare to truly survive out there without reliance from other people. Yet, we also discovered that the quest is more about a particular feeling—one we yearn to keep accessing as many times as we can. The feeling of knowing there’s something out there you can’t see right away. Something that takes a sharper eye to actually see. A second, longer look.

And the result is this! A 320-page, full color book filled with hundreds of color photos that’s a culmination of decades spent exploring and documenting some of our favorite ways to experience Nevada. As we ourselves discovered we’re on an unending trip into the high desert looking for hot water, caves and petroglyphs, darkness and quietness, vast wilderness corridors that allow wildlife to exist in the truest senses, lumps of turquoise and black fire opal, hiking and fishing alpine environments most people don’t even believe to exist here, and far beyond—we’re excited about where we landed because it not only helps anyone curious to see what’s really out there by figuring out a place to start, but as a whole, helps its reader understand Nevada’s many vast Basque, Buckaroo, and Indigenous histories you can’t learn from behind a glass display case in a museum.

My publisher Schiffer and I were joined at the hip throughout this process to make sure the book is equally at home on your coffee table as it is inside your glovebox to use as you bump down Nevada’s gravel roads. But one of the things we’re most proud of is this: there are no directions or geocoordinates, nudging its reader to actually find their own piece of Nevada wild. While you’re out there looking for it, you may luck out and meet a new version of yourself along the way.

Sydney Martinez is currently on a book tour promoting her project Finding Nevada Wild, and she will appear at The Writer’s Block in Las Vegas on October 25, 2025 and at The Martin Hotel in Winnemucca on November 8, 2025. Please visit FindingNevadaWild.com for more information. Ride along on her Nevada rambles on Instagram at @sydneymmartinez.

Sydney Martinez wakes up with alkali in her blood, sagebrush in her hair, and Nevada on the brain. Devoting as much time as humanly possible to learning the deepest, darkest corners of Nevada’s ultra-rurals, the people who protect them, and the bridge between the two, Sydney has professionally written about and photographed Nevada for nearly 20 years. Her work as a rural Nevada locations expert led to consulting for many Nevada local, state and federal agencies, including Nevada BLM, the Nevada Film Office, Nevada State Parks, Nevada Bureau of Mines and Geology, Nevada Division of Outdoor Recreation, and PBS Reno. She now focuses on developing her own brand, Finding Nevada Wild, while pursuing turquoise silversmithing under Song Dog Silver. She’s spent more nights in the back of her pickup truck than at home, which is exactly where she wants to be, so long as she’s got her husband Jonathan, dog Elko, and a Nevada hot spring bubbling up somewhere close by.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

By Dakota DeFiore

In the early 2000s when I first trained in pedagogy, technology and education were just beginning to solidify their future-forward merger. Even at the time, I was told teaching completely without tech was too antiquated for the 21st-century learner. A professor of mine made an excellent point: “Why would we be irresponsible and ignore the emerging research?” And that stuck with me. 

Currently, I teach writing and literature at the College of Southern Nevada where I work hard at upholding a promise I made to myself all those years ago: Regardless of how I feel about the way education changes, if I want to successfully reach a student, if I want to truly prepare them for the world beyond my classroom, my course content must constantly adapt to include what’s relevant, too.

This means, in my classroom, I don’t have to give up everything that came before. My courses still set expectations for students to put in the research and writing hours, to circle up as a community and have the meaningful and messy conversations about what we’re reading. But we also get creative, and we use digital literacy skills to better understand the English classroom and its processes. In composition and literature, I model AI as a tool for learning as frequently as I can, and I will continue to do so to the maximum capacity line—the line guided by integrity. 

But I’ve hit a guilt wall lately, of sorts. Despite using technological tools to the creative extreme in these courses, and despite my service as the current chair of our department’s Educational Technology Committee, my creative writing approach stands in stark opposition. As an artist, I am extremely selective with my AI use; so far, I’ve only used it for things like synonyms, or to determine if I’ve situated a word correctly in context. 

And because I am constantly researching this topic, I also understand the tempting power of AI for students: in seconds, an entire creative text. I ask myself all the time: Where’s the benefit in that?

Would it benefit my upcoming Introduction to Creative Writing students if I chose to go old-school-paper-workshop with the course design? Or, are my efforts better spent training them? To wrestle with language against the chatbot. To understand editing and proofreading enough to prompt the chatbot to work for them. Can I find a way for them to actually come out on the other side with skills and sentences they feel they can own?

It's your job as an educator to model for your students. 

And so I will (perhaps a little begrudgingly), try my best to meld artistic and scholarly integrity for growth in the creative writing classroom. Though I’m not looking forward to growing pains, I’m excited to learn how to adapt craft and creative approaches into something consumable for the 21st-century student, the 21st-century writer, and even (we shall see how much) for the 21st-century creative.

Dakota DeFiore teaches writing and literature at the College of Southern Nevada. She serves as Education Technology Committee Chair for her department. She is also the Fiction Editor for Red Rock Review, CSN’s longstanding literary journal. A writer and mother of two, Dakota has called Las Vegas home since 2021. In her classroom, she explores the intersections of growth, storytelling, and community, always working to strengthen student confidence and foster better communication between worlds.

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.

read because 
by Jen Nails 

read because 
insurmountable doesn’t mean 
what you think it means 

because
the North Atlantic Ocean 
nearly swallowed two girls 
holding their overturned Lifeboat for 24 hours 

because 
after rape 
girls stand up and 
the Reckoning begins 

because 
each of the 
100 Spaghetti Strings 
is a childhood memory 
woven around your heart 

read because 
insurmountable doesn’t mean 
what you think it means 

read because 
your wild-hearted 
fierce 
unwavering 
love 
for all living creatures 
is put through the Wringer 
every day 

because 
Wolves Wander 
out of National Parks 

because 
you 
are the wounded 
the blind 
the unexpected visitor in 
The Horse 

read because 
books are post-its 
direct from authors:
“forgive yourself” 
“listen better” 
“insurmountable doesn’t mean 
what you think it means” 

read because 
you stand 
divided 
at Borders 
and wait 
and watch 
every day 

because 
the Red Bird Danced 
to honor 
missing and murdered indigenous women 

because 
rising over the din 
we hear Sharice’s Big Voice, 
shout that 
a Native Kid Becomes a Congresswoman 

read 
to meet 
who you could be 
who you’ll never be 
who you are 

read because 
This 4th-grader 
is alive and her friend is 
Not so she smeared 
a little of her friend’s blood on her shirt which the 
Drill did not mention 

because 
after 
the second casket 
is lowered 
Things in Nature Merely Grow 

because 
death’s 
cold kiss 
comes, so 
You Better Be Lightning 

read because 
disappear 
read because 
empathy 
read because 
everything you’re looking for 
on your phone 
you’ll find 
between the pages 

read because 
insurmountable doesn’t mean 
what you think it means

Check out Jen Nails’s reading list on the Las Vegas-Clark County Library District website that accompanies her blog post.

Jen Nails is a librarian with the Las Vegas-Clark County Library District and loves football, yoga, writing, and spending time with her friends and family. Her podcast Revisions: How Our Favorite Books Change Us features conversations about pivotal books that shape young readers into their grown-up selves. Jen is honored that her middle grade novel One Hundred Spaghetti Strings was chosen to represent Nevada at the 2025 National Book Festival in Washington D.C. @jennailsit19

Thank you for visiting Double Down, the Nevada Humanities blog. Any views or opinions represented in this blog are personal and belong solely to the blog author and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on this blog at any time.