It Was Me, I Pulled Out Her Chair, She Fell On The Floor

"The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC) was created through a legal settlement between Residential Schools Survivors, the Assembly of First Nations, Inuit representatives and the parties responsible for creation and operation of the schools: the federal government and the church bodies.

The TRC’s mandate was to inform all Canadians about what happened in residential schools. The TRC documented the truth of Survivors, their families, communities and anyone personally affected by the residential school experience. This included First Nations, Inuit and Métis former residential school students, their families, communities, the churches, former school employees, government officials and other Canadians." 

Marie Wilson, Murry Sinclair, and Wilton Littlechild were the Commissionaires for the TRC. Each of these individuals have had stellar careers and impressive resumes. They went on a journey for over six years, taking them all over Canada. The end result was an impressive documentation of the journey. 

The  Commissionaires unveiled the results of their work at a Gathering, June 2015 in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. The TRC Gathering was well attended with Indians from all over Canada. The Commissionaires hosted many events prior to the releasing of their Report. Lot of fun was had by All. Dancing, Walks, Seminars, Singing, a Play (by no  disgraced Joseph Boyden pretend Indian) and Pipe Ceremonies. 

Commissionaire Marie Wilson was in attendance of a seminar, held at the  Museum Of Canadian History  It was in a relatively medium sized room. Perhaps a hundred or more people in attendance. The room was filled with plastic chairs and people seated in those chairs. The room was a buzz with excitement. There were people from everywhere; White people, Indians, People of Color, Me, my friend Earl and my brother Don. I don't know who was the speaker at this seminar. 

Earl is a residential school survivor, we attended the same Boarding school as he did, the Fort Alexander Indian Boarding School.  We were fortunate to  go the Ottawa event, due to my brother's efforts. It was a big deal. So I made sure to attend everything going on at the TRC Gathering.  I went to the Pipe Ceremony, the Play, and other meeting events.  We ran into the Honorable Judge Murry Sinclair and other Big Name Indians at the various events. It was an incredible fun glorious momentous time. 

At the speaking seminar in which Commissionaire Marie Wilson was at, we were there. We went in before Ms Wilson had arrived. So we were at the back of the room, standing against the wall. The Commissionaire Marie Wilson had walked past us, as we stood by the wall behind the row of chairs. Commissionaire Wilson has written a book on her experiences during the TRC journey of six years. The people she has met, the Ceremonies she took part in, the travels she took and the stories she heard. Evidently she is a proficient note taker and has a full shelf of her note books from the TRC journey. Commissionaire Marie Wilson was on a radio talk show called Unreserved. It was here I heard her talking of the TRC journey and the resulting book she published: North of Nowhere. Commissionaire Mare Wilson will not me as a-whole-in-the-ground. But I bet she will remember our paths crossing. You see, when I was standing by the wall at the full room of anxious, excited, happy people, I decided I shouldn't have to stand. I mean, I'm one of the Indians here. This event would not be happening if not for Indians like us, who went to school with those Nuns, those Priests, under those circumstances. So being the Indian I am, I reached over to pull a chair so I could sit in it. I pulled it back just enough for me to use it. At the precise time, Commissionaire Marie Wilson had gotten to the chair space and plunked herself down onto said chair. Problem; the chair was no longer there. A scream incurred (or is it occurred, I think it is incurred because it was her fault and not mine, if it was my fault it would occurred) throughout the crowded room of (now) surprised, shocked guests. I yelled out in panic, "it's my fault." My brother and my friend Earl (who I can only describe as a Savage, like in Savage Indian from the Rez) both scrambled out the door. I stood there for a moment, but felt like an eternity, and slowly slithered out the door. Before I left I glanced over to see a colleague of my nephew (both are University Professors) looking sternly at me. Outside of the room I was met with Laughter and scoldings. 

I wonder if esteemed Commissionaire Marie Wilson, and now published author, has recalled this encounter in her book. 

Marie Wilson 

What Did You Do To Get That Feather

I stopped at a gas station called the 59er, situated just on the outskirts of Winnipeg. I saw an Eagle Feather attached to the wall. It made me curious as the story behind the Feather on this non-Native establishment. I asked the lady who was the owner and she said (deceased) Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs, Grand Chief Rod Bushie had given it to her. Rod was a frequent customer of the gas station and decided to give it to the Lady. I have seen a few Eagle Feathers at different places, which were not connected to Natives. At a business where they engrave grave-stones, an Eagle feather was on a window sill. I asked the owner about it. She had found out in the country by her property. I resisted the urge to ask her for the feather. I was in Mahnomen Minnesota a number of years ago. My Dad and brother were still living at the time. Two of my brothers and I had taken my Dad to the casino, Shooting Star. While there I took a drive to a car wrecker yard. I was looking for a vehicle license plate for my brother, Pancho. Pancho collected license plates and tacked them up on his shed. At the wrecker I bought a license plate for ten bucks. Behind the cashier a few Eagle Feathers were hanging up. I asked the white guy behind the till where he got those Feathers from. It is against the law in the United States for white people to have Eagle Feathers, or at least that's my understanding. He told me he finds them in the cars. When cars either get wrecked or however the cars end up in the yard, he finds them. 

I have some Eagle Feathers. I danced Sundance and participated as a Helper for many years. Still I have to ask, "What did I do to get those Feathers?" When I was growing up in the Reserve, the 1960's 1970's, I never saw an Eagle Feather anywhere. People really didn't have them in their possession or their homes. The only Feathers I saw were with Chief of our Reserve, Mr. Dave Courchene. The Eagle Feather has come back to our Reserve and to many other Reserves and people. I see them. It is really good to see. There are some folks who are upset and say "they didn't earn those Feathers." For sure this is a sentiment and could have some merit in the criticism. Still who am I to critique the ownership of an Eagle Feather. 

I have given away Eagle Feathers that I have acquired. In fact I have even given away the Eagle Bustle and an Eagle Headdress.  I got those from my friends from the North of our province, Manitoba.  Whether I had the Right or gave those Feathers or Bustles to someone worthy is another story.  Growing up, we did not see Eagles in the South. The Eagle was not to be seen in our community for many years, in my youth.  I think it was when the DDT was in full use. DDT was a widely used pesticide in the early century and lot of it was used in the 1960s. The  effect of DDT was far reaching and devastating to the bird population, especially birds of prey, like the Eagle. DDT caused a high death rate in the Eagle population. Seeing an Eagle was a rarity. Even rarer is the Golden Eagle Feather. Golden Eagles are pretty rare to see. Seeing an Eagle is considered a Blessing for many an Indian. Social media has numerous posts by Indians haven seen an Eagle or two. 

I was a post-secondary Powwow a number of years ago. The Powwow was honoring graduating Indigenous students. At the honoring, each Indigenous student was presented an Eagle Feather. Honor indeed. The Indigenous Students achieved something many other Indigenous people have not, they met the challenges of the White system and succeeded in getting certificates and degrees. Not an easy feat in a system that once denied them. I would agree those Indigenous people earned their Feathers. I think there are many in today's society who should be recognized. Then again, there are many different opinions of who gets to hold a Feather. Years ago at our Reserve, the Chief was getting a Headdress bestowed onto him by the community. I was standing close to this older guy, and he is Traditional (Traditional is a title to describe people who live by the Indigenous Teachings). This guy started saying those people "shouldn't be giving the Chief a Headdress, he doesn't even know what it signifies, and didn't earn it." In his defense this guy is a pure Arsehole and doesn't have much positive things to say about anything or anyone in the Reserve. I didn't think much of it at the time, when he made those remarks. 

My daughter takes part in this club, it is  called the Butterfly Club. It is hosted and sponsored by Ka Ni Kanichihk, a social organization which supports Indigenous Women who suffered from trauma. The Butterfly Club provides Elders, Teachers, activities for young girls/women in efforts for positive learning related to Indigenous Teachings and practices. It is something that we appreciate. The program is lead by Young Women. The Leaders of this program have come and gone as there are other more lucrative or better opportunities out there. It is great when this young leaders are able to stay for a period of time and establish relations with the young participants. I wanted to honor the two young leaders so my Girl and I gave them a couple of Walking Sticks, which me and my Girl make. I wanted the Young Women Leaders to know we appreciate them. A few days later I was thinking about how they look after the young girls and how my Girl gets to enjoy activities like Sweat Lodge Ceremony, making drums, listening to Teachings, etc. I have some Eagle Feathers which I received from an Elder friend of mine. The Feathers are a mix of small ones and some flight feathers. I got a few Feathers from this White guy I met a while back. He lives in British Columbia and finds Feathers on his property. It was the first time meeting him and I asked him to bring Feathers next time he came to Manitoba. Turns out he did what I asked him. Anyways, I decided to Honor these Young Women Leaders with an Eagle Feather each. I told them to dress up those Feathers and don't let them sit around. I feel they earned the Right to carry a Feather. 

We have some many cliches; "the future is our youth, Women are the life-givers, We must protect our children, young people are gifts, young ones are not given to us-just lent to us," and so many more sayings.  Lot of it is bullshit. We adore the baby of course, we love the women. In reality we, society that is, just plays so much big-lip service to the Youth and the Women. People who are employed as Teachers, Day-care attendants, nurses, are not valued. It is really funny (in a very sad way), when the Pandemic-COVID had people on lock-down, politicians and corporations were praising the front line workers as "The Heroes." Don't hear any of those praises no longer.  Those people, the youth working in the care industry, those Women working in the care industry earn those Eagle Feathers. Very few will ever be honored, be recognized for their achievements, their work, their worth. Never mind ever be bestowed an Eagle Feather. 

“The Eagle Feather is one of the highest honours that an Indigenous person can bestow on someone doing something great,” said local Indigenous leader Myeengun Henry. “The Eagle is the highest flying bird, the one closest to the Creator, which brings messages back to us on earth. The Eagle is very significant in Indigenous culture.”

"God, Allah, Creator, Pick me"

 I have heard the message a few times from Elders, Traditional Teachers and Indigenous people from different countries; that the Earth provides. The Creator, (God, Allah, Jehovah, etc.) is said to have provided everything people need to live. We are to exist through the provisions of the Earth. We have everything we need to live. The Atheists have it summed up when they don't believe a God, person, entity is out there granted them wishes. The Atheists have no notion about being heard by anyone other than their own ears or brain. I guess that is fine, but I wonder if they ever wish for something? 

The Earth provides everything we need, so what is the purpose in wishing for things? I think it is a natural thing to wish, to hope and maybe even to pray for something. Now whether or not those wishes come true is another thing. I really use to believe without a doubt I was looked after by some power. I believed it was my Mom's prayers for my safety which kept me alive. There were close calls where I should have been injured or died. Was it just luck, circumstance, happenstance or divine intervention? Just like when Jules and Vincent were shot at by Jerry Seinfeld. Jerry had a large handgun,  all shiny and big, with big bullets. Jerry was no more than 3 meters away, approximately ten feet for those old boomer types or Americans. Jerry emptied the gun at the two men, Jules and Vincent, but missed them completely. Either Jerry was a very, very bad shot, or an intervention took place. An intervention where a Higher-power, like the Higher-power in Alcoholics Anonymous, moved the bullets away from Jules and Vincent's heads. If the intervention didn't happen, Marvin would not have had his head explode by the bullet of Vincent's gun. 

I am sure you have your experiences or know first hand, of a situation where it was nothing less than miraculous, where someone escaped death or injury. I guess it can be a miracle. It could be luck. The thing is, how come someone is selected to beat death, or injury while others are not so lucky or worthy? For some reason the southern United States has some unlucky people. There are children being killed by people, children with assault weapons. Many of the children in those schools dodge the bullets and some don't. I guess they did not have their prayers or wishes answered. In September there are numerous reminders of the Two Towers and the people who were killed; 2977 dead. No miracle in those circumstances. In 2024, Israel in engaged in a slaughter of Palestinians. It is a Genocide and there has been no intervention, divine or United States backed. 

When being interviewed for television audiences, many politicians, athletes and other famous (and semi-famous) people will acknowledge God, Allah, Jehovah as the reason for their success. The combatants of some contest, will publicly pray for their victory. I wonder how the Great Intervenor decides who is to benefit from their intervention? In the case of the recent Genocide, I imagine it is both Jehovah and God, who are picking the winners. Where the heck is Allah? Allah is not picking for the folks, the Women, the Children who are wishing, begging and praying to be saved. 

I don't know how in the heck, the imaginary Boss lets someone die and someone live. 

Gaza Baby. 

I watched a video, it might have been an incident in India. A man is kicking, hitting a young girl, a child actually. The girl is screaming, crying, holding her arms up to protect herself. The man is ruthless in his beating of her, all the while someone is in the room video taping the beating. Her cries fill the room. I watched it. Rage, anger, extreme sadness, hopelessness just overwhelmed me. The responses from the public towards the video are as expected, people were livid. Some people expressed the desire to kill the man. No one could blame them, for feeling that way. So why is it, this visceral backlash does not apply to other children? There are Children being slaughtered, being blown-up, quite literally to little pieces, with limbs and heads torn off their tiny bodies. Still it is being supported, even celebrated by, seemingly regular people. 

I guess they are not chosen for a miracle, for divine intervention. Their wishes, their begging, their prayers go unanswered. So fuck you God, fuck you Allah, fuck you Jehovah, fuck you. 

It Was a Different Time

Her: "He kissed me, felt me up."  Him: "It was a different time." What is a different time? How do we measure the "time" when things are not different, from say today? Look at the Earth, the Earth is believed or measured to be four and half billion years old, and the universe is said to be fourteen billion years old, there about. Humans have been around for four hundred thousand years. Not sure how the Beings told on each other before speech came into usage, but between 200,000 to 50,000 years ago. Since then, people have been able to tell on those doing them wrong, you think? Not really I guess. Women were property, ethnic people were not worthy to have a voice and so many other things. So now when someone does speak up, there should be someone to listen, right? It was a different time, is actually still that time.

The voice of people is not equal, not even close. Your voice carries weight, or at least it should. Voices are not heard and weighted/measured all the same. So if a woman shares her voice on a matter, she should be be given 'benefit of doubt.' Sadly, not everyone gets the benefit. This time it will be different. 

Fuck it. I have been so stressed out lately. I am struggling with my rage, my anger, my frustration, my sadness, my hopelessness, my despair and my outlook on life. I can see the pain happening in the world, by way of social media sites. The people in the world are in trouble. Their voices have no weight. The weight of their collective voice should be listened to. That is not the case. This is not a different time. 

Been watching a lot of videos on social media and all the many voices out there. We are in a time where people are voicing about colonialism and the affects. People have much more avenues to share their voice, and there are many who voice. One voice says we are more aware of the "wider world" than ever before, and that awareness is harder on us. Ignorance was bliss at one time. The old saying of "I didn't know," was sweet. Yes, it was a different time. 

Now you know. 

Are You Comfortable Being a Villain

 My sister is sick, and has been for sometime now. She lives in our parents old house on the Reserve. After my Dad died, I let her stay there because she was looking after her grandkids. So she has been living there about 12 or 11 years. My Dad was in the local care home before he died. He had cancer, lived alone and had dementia. My parents had given me the Reserve House. They believed youngest son was to get things from them, but I believe it was because I was their favorite. My siblings will all say they were the favorite. My sister has had her struggles. I won't bother with the details. We all have issues and struggles. 

The reason I am a villain is because of my actions. I have told my sister she has to leave the house. Her daughter is upset with me and I know it is hard for them. I have my reasons for kicking them out. They have not moved out yet. So a battle is going on between me and niece. She is hurt and angry with me. 

My Mom and Dad have, had a beautiful home. It is on the south side of the Winnipeg River, which runs through our Reserve. We spent lot of time swimming in the River as kids. We did a lot of fishing and what a view from the house. Mom, especially, had a welcoming way to our home. She would make tea right away for visitors and would sit at the kitchen table. A patio door was in the kitchen, so a great view of the river. Mom's children and mom's grandchildren were all happily received at the house. So when we think of the home, we think of Mom and Dad. Dad sitting at his spot with a coffee in the morning and tea all day long. 

That is not the way it is at the house anymore. Far gone is the welcome feeling at the home. Far gone is the well keep yard. Far gone is the well keep house. I go there and get a dreadful feeling. The welcoming Spirit of my parents doesn't exist in the house. Far gone is the welcoming arms of Granny to her small grandkids. Far gone is the good feelings of a home filled with blessings. 

I am a villain. I kick my oldest sister in her time of need out of the home. My sister's grandchildren have many issues; mental health, physical disabilities, social ills. My sister's children (not all) are struggling with addictions issues. The issues spread throughout the household. 

Do I feel good doing it, no. I have made a decision after years of repeating issues, activities and incidents. If being a villain is what I have to be, then it is so. I have been villain in cases before. It's not a good place to find yourself, but villains are part of life. I am comfortable being a villain. 

Shed built in 1965 by Dad & Mishoom 

Was It a Blessing and Not a Tragic Event?

 August 25 is coming up. This year will 19 years since my Boy hung himself in his mother's closet.  I live with the memory, the aftermath and the situations leading to his killing himself. I think about the day he was found and remember his life as a small child. My son was 20 when he took his life. He had been struggling with a drug addiction. It was CRACK. It was difficult for him and for us as well. I was working in Vancouver, British Columbia. I had gotten him to come stay with me, hoping he would get work and climb out of the addiction. Addiction is a vicious creature, with an appetite that can't be satisfied.  So I think about how his future might have turned out had he not made the choice that he did.

A friend of mine has Parkinson's disease. He used to make documentaries when he lived in Japan. He and his wife moved to Canada as she went to work as a professor at the University. Tadashi is/was a very good person. The disease hit him very quickly. I haven't seen him for a number of years now. I spoke to him on the phone this winter. He lives in a Care facility and is very limited at what he can do. I speak to his wife every once in a while. The odds of a partner having Parkinson's is astronomical. Turns out she has Parkinson's. Unreal. She still lives in an apartment with their grown child. I spoke to her a few weeks ago, but had to cut the visit quick as I was driving in the car with grandkids. She was hoping that she could call along with her husband. He has lucid moments for a short period in the mornings. I remember when he used to exercise and try to get ahead of the disease. I think of the famous actor, Michael J. Fox and how long he has been fighting Parkinson's. I wonder what the difference is between my friend and the actor, and how the actor seems to fairing better than my friend? 

My Sister-in-Law posted a note the other day, Her brother died. No details, just a note saying she will cherish his memory. My wife told me, he might have sought MAID, Medical Assisted In Dying. I don't know the details of what he suffered from. There was to be no service. I believe in MAID. I also believe in Suicide Prevention. A contradiction, I know. On the one finger I am supporting killing yourself, but in the other finger, I don't want anyone to kill themselves. It doesn't add up to two fingers does it? 

An uncle of mine had ALS, Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. From what is written about ALS, it is no doubt a horrible disease with no cure. Your body becomes a coffin with your mind knowing what's going on. I cannot imagine the madness which comes with the disease. I took my Dad to go visit Uncle and it was too much for my Dad, he didn't every want to go back. He spoke to Uncle in Ojibwe and we left. I don't know how long Uncle lasted in a state of not being able to move, to speak, to communicate in any way. Can't imagine how it was for him, my Aunt and his kids. 

I was in a situation where I had control over the last moments of my Dad's life. He was suffering from dementia and cancer. I signed the papers for no medical treatment on my Dad. It was a hard decision but the alternative was to let him continue to live not knowing what was going on and living in pain. So when I think about my Boy, I wonder about his suffering. Could he or would he have been able to win over the addiction? Or would it have gotten worse with the surge of Meth in society? My Boy was suffering and so were people who loved him. His addiction made him do things he could not live with. 

I am wondering if it is selfish of me to think maybe, just maybe it was the right choice for him? The other selfish part of me wants him to be here. If he was here at least he would be breathing, perhaps enjoying a good life. I don't know. Or maybe he would be sharing needles, living and walking the streets, being avoided by all those who love him? Maybe he would get seriously sick from the life of an addict. I don't know. So maybe it was a blessing he doesn't suffer today? Or maybe it is still the most devastating thing to happen in our life? 

So that's the thing isn't it, can we see a Blessing where we feel misery? 

It Pains Me

 "We are still here." This is the sentiment of many Indigenous people out there. The destruction caused by colonialism, Christianity, is immeasurable. Who knows what has been lost due to the greed of White people. It pains me that we live a life of "what if's." The destruction caused by Wendigo is right in front of us and still it continues like it is as a good thing. Whole civilizations have been destroyed, been wiped off the face of the Earth because of White society. It is not a racist statement, just a fact of their way of life; the accumulation of everything. 

“There’s no winning for us. We’re screwed. We were born into a system we don’t agree with, and we got caught. Here, out there, it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing left for us.”

— Richelle Mead