My many friends call me Marlene. My name is Marlene Dawn Linklater. The significance of my name choice is that my mother said she wanted her first born to have a serious, respectable name -just in case there’s a chance to run for Council or something, it would look good on the ballot. As for the name, Dawn, she wanted something to relate to nature. I celebrate my birthday on May 21 and I’ve had thirty of them. My major birthday bash was this past year when my friends arranged to celebrate the beginning of my over-the-hill phase of life. Still, it was a beautiful memory that I’ll never forget.Originally, I come from Garden Hill, Island Lake, Manitoba. The oldest of four daughters, I’ve lived there most of my childhood then attended my senior years of high school in Cranberry Portage. On my final year, I met my honey there and eight years later he offered to share his last name with me. Ramsey and I have been married six wonderful years with our anniversary coming up in February. We’ve been living in Pukatawagan ever since. With our union, we have six beautiful children, Curtis, Marilyn, Paywahpun, Tamara, Angela, and Quentin; but we call the baby Quincy. Painful for us, Marilyn left us to be an angel in Heaven. Which is why, when they ask how many children we have, I say, “Five at home, one in Heaven.”
I like to be constructive with my time, a product of what my parents and grandparents drilled into my head about my upbringing. For the year 2000, I learned something extraordinary as to relate to my native culture. A friend of mine taught me the crafting of star blankets. I’m so friendly with my sewing machine that I named it Bertha. Otherwise, with the rest of my time I keep up with my friends to share a laugh and a cup of tea. Occasionally, we go to town at the spur of the moment. We treasure the spontaneity and our quality time. I like all kinds of music: dance, alternative and country, in that order. It depends on my mood.
Parked outside my house is my pride and joy, a red Dodge Dakota given to me for Christmas one year. Ramsey owns a black Chevy pickup. Then there’s the Polaris XLT he bought the other winter and last winter I bought one for myself, a Polaris Indy 500. With a sled, we can take the kids for rides and our favorite winter past time, ice fishing. Since my kids are getting older and becoming quite independent. We try to expose them to our favorite activities such as boating, fishing, rides on the Polaris’, ice fishing, hunting, and snaring. We also have a boat and motor and an ATV. The kids especially like the ‘quad’ as we call it.
My favorite place to visit would be back home in Garden Hill when I visit my loving parents and my dear grandparents and the rest of the family. That time is reserved for special holidays. As to any regular long weekend, we like to go to one of the following places: The Pas, Flin Flon, Winnipeg and Prince Albert. We catch the latest releases of movies, a bit of gambling, the kids go swimming, and shopping.
My biggest beef with the adult population is their choice to smoke cigarettes. Smokers, smoking, smoke. Need I say more? Stinky, contaminating, cancer-causing smoke. Enough said about the issue.
Reasons why I am so special? I wouldn’t say that I am. Just unique in my own way, that I’m one of kind. I’m blind to my qualities as a person but I’m glad that wherever I see friends, I get a smile. It’s so free to give and receive and healthy for the soul.
There's a picture that was given to us as a wedding present. I see it everyday and I have a permanent imprint of it in my memory. I see the sunset colours as if it represented the fiery fierceness of our devotion to each other and our marriage. I see the light that represents the heart and soul, and the way it glows, that we're still very much alive. It feels as if it were meant for Ramsey and I, and only us. I like to imagine that this picture was drawn especially for the sole purpose to remind us that our circle will never be broken; but the artist didn't know who would ever possess this drawing. I've treasured this art ever since and it means a great deal to me.
A MEMORABLE PICTURE
LETTER TO THE EDITORTo The Editor:
We have been dealing with some negative aspects in our community. For one thing, suicide has been the delicate issue for the past couple of months. There have been several attempts and close calls and sometimes, the person wasn't saved in time. The saddest part about this dilemma is that we are losing our youth. The youth that we will never know of their unknown potential.
I've heard on the news, I've watched on television, and I've read the newspapers that some reserves have set aside some money to build a drop-in center, or a sportsplex, or an arena. The suicide statistics have dropped dramatically. For every reserve that has the threat of a suicide epidemic, they should receive extra funds to finance such a life saving recreational outlet, not only for the youth but the adults as well.
Every human being has the need to feel important and that we matter in someone's life at some point. Maybe if we had a league going, from the squirts category of age four, to the men's and women's. An incentive to have something to look forward to. Not only would it be chicken soup for the soul, but good exercise for the heart and body as well.
It would be beneficial for the young because the five circles that overlap each other can be anyone's dream, and the goal to strive for. Why shouldn't our youth have the same dream to play for Canada in the Olympics? I'd like to see half the players of the NHL to be of Native origin. With such a powerful dream, the youth can look forward to a bright future instead of dwelling on the present life as they know it. There's always room for improvement in everyone's life and not every day will be the worst.
Hardships do come in every shape, form, and size. The healing would be to look for something-good everyday, and not to look at everything as dark, unbearable, or impossible. The sun will always rise and will always shine for a reason; just have to look for the positive meaning.
Thank you,
A Concerned Citizen
At one point in time, a couple of years ago, my parents phoned to let us know that they were coming for a visit. They said that they would be driving in on the winter road and that they would arrive the following day. My mother asked for instructions on how to get to Pukatawagan without losing time or getting lost. Being as specific and as detailed as I could, I gave her instructions to follow after leaving Cranberry Portage on Highway #10.
HOW TO REACH PUK VIA THE WINTER ROADTen minutes after leaving Cranberry Portage and if you're driving at the speed of 100km/p, you should pass the railway crossing and five minutes from there, should come to the Sheridan junction that turns to the right, heading north. I remind her to be extra careful on the road because it's a winding and dangerous road due to the logging trucks that rule the road. It would be safe to go between 70 and 80 km/p, the Sheridan road is about an hour only to the Repap junction. From the Repap junction; go straight through and stay on the wide one lane road, and not to make any turns that have forks on the road; should reach the lake in about forty minutes, and not to rush because of the logging semis. It still an hour's drive to Pukatawagan because of the lakes and the portages, ten in all. Can't get lost from this point because it's the only road into Pukatawagan.
I got the extra bedroom ready for my parents. Just after breakfast, they phoned to let me know they were already on the perimeter, leaving Winnipeg. By suppertime, they phoned from The Pas, and they were going to have supper but they would bring KFC chicken for a late night snack. It was already past six when they last called. By eleven, I started to get anxious because they haven't arrived yet. It's a four hour drive from The Pas and I started to worry that they got lost or they broke down or something. Another half-hour passed, and I kept looking out the window, it started to snow. I should have met them halfway. Eventually, headlights lit up the night sky, the falling snow made it more luminous, then I saw the familiar dark Mazda pull into our driveway. I went to help them with their bags and asked how their ride was. My dad said that next time, he'll have at least twelve hours worth of music to make the ride more tolerable because listening to the same music got tiring. He also mentioned that he got help along the way by a Colonel. I looked at him in a funny way; a Colonel? He laughed at me and said it was as if there was a Colonel almost every half-hour starting from the Sheridan road. I was still baffled until he gave me the KFC bucket of chicken, then I got it. My dad mentioned that he practically followed a trail of KFC buckets most of the way; if it wasn't a bucket, it was empty beer cases and cans. He knew it was a sure deal that they would eventually show up in Puk because of the 'trail markers.'
Coming from the wife of a devoted hunter, I went on my first and only, and last moose hunt ever in my life. It started as a last minute pick up, Ramsey's usual crew didn't go with him that particular weekend. There was only him and Allen, so I volunteered to go with him, with then eight-year-old, Curtis.
A PUK ACTIVITYGetting ready to go wasn't as hectic as I expected. Mostly packing extra food and a change of clothes since it was only an over night trip. I made sure to pack an extra heavy blanket for our son. We started driving to King Fisher Bay, where Ramsey left our boat the previous weekend. Loaded our gear and were on our way down the river. Going towards south, we met up with quite a few boats during the entire boat ride. I couldn't believe the traffic on the river! We waved at every boat and kept snaking around the curves along side the Churchill River.
We made it to a fish camp where Ramsey's friends lodged at. I saw how they lived and it wasn't what I expected it to be. It's not as hard as they said it was. I thought there was more work involved anyway. The real secret is that the guys who fished were glad to be away from the hectic home life for a while. It wasn't so bad, until night fall, or should I say bedtime? Must have been at least midnight when we finally set up our bed on the floor to sleep. The candles were blown out and the loudest of snores began. I couldn't believe how loud some people snore, and I'm such a light sleeper. The ironic thing is that there wasn't only one person snoring, not two, but three! All I thought about was that I was going to be so tired in the morning. Then my son, Curtis, asked what the noise was. I told him that some people snore when they sleep.
I think I finally fell asleep when I last saw the faintest of the dawn, light up the sky. I could only moan that I didn't get the good sleep I had anticipated; being in the wilderness, in the quiet, no babies to wake up to in the middle of the night. I must have finally dozed off from exhaustion, then I felt some tugging on my hair. I thought it was either Curtis or Ramsey, their fingernail must have caught in my hair. Ever so slowly, I make the effort to untangle the fingers. It was not anyone's fingers. I felt something small and soft and furry. I start to shake when I figured out what it was. I poke at Ramsey to help me get the thing out of my hair...the mouse. I started to get the chills and that's not a good feeling so early in the morning, especially after an almost sleepless night. I couldn't sleep right away, but I must have dozed off, because I woke up from a dream that seemed so real.
We had our coffee and breakfast, and were off by the first light. As the four of us climbed into the boat, I told them I dreamt of a moose calling and that it was a very scary sound. I was still so tired and the sand in my eyes must have been apparent because I could feel the bags under my eyes. Then Allen looked at me and said it was a good sign. I wondered which part, the moose or my obvious tiredness. We zig- zagged along the river, stopped at some points along the way, where Ramsey called for a bull moose, he imitated a cow. We kept going into the river as far as we could go, then turned around to go back toward the camp and wait somewhere on the way for the moose to come out. Ramsey must have did a good job calling because when we turned back, half hour from where we were, Curtis and I were looking at something in the water halfway across the river. I thought it was a beaver swimming across, pushing a tree for its dam. Curt and I continued to watch it for the longest time but the guys weren't aware of it until it practically kissed the boat. They were so busy scanning the shore line for a moose, until a good hundred metres away, they noticed it was a moose. At the same time, they grabbed for their rifles and began to shoot it. They hit it a couple of times, then I knew they killed it because it went under water. At least I hoped it was dead for the sake of ours and the moose. I didn't want to approach the site and then get speared by the antlers.
The moose went down and never came up. We wondered what to do. We measured the depth with a stick and found that it was only about seven feet deep. By then we drifted around and lost the location. It was probably about 10:30 when they made their kill. It was lunch time and still no sign of it. We went to a camp to look for something to find the moose with. We came across an old metal gate, I told Ramsey to use it to at least find the location of the moose and mark the area with a pole. I never trolled for a moose before and it felt like we were fishing for one; which is a first for me. We did find it, and I happened to be the one holding the rope to the metal gate when it snagged on the moose's antlers. It practically pulled me halfway out of the boat, but Ramsey was fast enough to grab my sweater to keep me from falling all the way out. He marked the area with the pole and we used a giant hook to fish for the moose. We were hoping it would catch on the antlers so we would be able to pull it up to the surface. It took a while, and by suppertime, we pulled up the carcass, tied a rope onto the antlers and dragged it to the potential site for the butchering process.
The fishing crew at the camp came to help out and it took a total of nine guys to get it onto the shore. They all claimed it was the largest they ever saw. I looked at it, and I didn't think so. I grew up with two horses about the same size and it didn't look that big to me. They began the butchering, took turns with the different parts. I watched with fascination, I never witnessed the event before I watched so I would learn.
Just in case I ever kill a moose with no one to help me; just kidding. They joked to pass the 'manual' to see if it was the right way to make a cut for a particular part. One thing led to another and the guys still took turns. By night fall, they were almost done. The more experienced butchers took over to gut the thing, and they noticed that someone had left a lung and the heart still attached inside. They started to laugh and pointed at each other, to blame each other for the mistake. It boiled down to the one guy who had started the gutting but someone else had taken over. All he replied was, "Must have been the missing page in the manual!" That was enough to crack up the guys again, they got hysterical and laughed at his remark so hard. It was funny.
It took two boats to bring the moose meat back home and we made it sometime after midnight. We were so tired, we dragged ourselves, but carried the moose meat into the house. Ramsey said that it was a good day because he had us with him when he made his kill. Must be a man's pride, to prove that to kill a moose was that you could support a family. After have given more than half of it away, we still had enough moose meat for the entire winter.
The Missinippi Challenge is a canoe race of sixty miles. The canoe race takes place on the Churchill River in the surrounding area of Pukatawagan, and is usually held in August. Only experienced canoe enthusiasts are encouraged to enter the race. The race has been reduced to stay within the limits of Pukatawagan's lakes due to the danger factor of the river's current. Two laps of hard paddling make up the sixty miles; in some places, the current is strong.
A PUK EVENTWhen the Missinippi Challenge first started a couple of years earlier, it used to start from Sandy Bay, Saskatchewan. A day's event that racers paddled the dangerous sixty-mile route back to Pukatawagan. The danger lurked where the current in some places is swift and deadly; at the five white-water rapids along the way down river.
This is a serious race that involve thousands of dollars in prize money. There are several categories: mixed, women's, and men's. It even costs a pretty penny to enter the event. Upon the finish line, there is some kind of gratification that you see on every team mate's face, a major accomplishment. In order to enter, the participants are given a waiver form to sign that they enter at their own risk.
In the recent years that I have watched the annual summer event, there are more teams every year that compete. The Missinippi Challenge has become a widely known event that attract the serious athletes. We've had paddlers come from as far as the United States.
I'd like to extend my congratulations to all champions of the Missinippi Challenge. Consider yourself a champion when you complete the sixty miles in a single day. The next step would be at the North American Ingenious Games, and possibly, the Olympics. Paddle on!
We decided to have a bonfire in the backyard of my house, one night in December. I had some of my girlfriends over when someone mentioned there was supposed to be a meteor shower sometime after midnight. I built the fire and got a couple of painful slivers. The feel of the tree bark reminded me that woodcutting was my childhood chore. The tea started to boil, we talked about everything under the stars, and looked out for the meteors.
ONE NIGHT IN DECEMBERAfter about an hour, Mother Nature decided to give us the night time show that will be probably the sight of once in a lifetime. I'm so glad that I had the privilege to share it with my good friends, and that we had witnessed it together. At first, there was the casual falling star, then more, and then more. Pretty soon, it became a light show as just how you would see a fire works display. As I bent down for more wood for the fire; the snow lit up with the biggest, brightest meteor I've ever seen, it streaked across the sky in a horizontal line, the brightness equivalent to a flare. From my point of view as I looked up, it was over the tree line past the roof of my house. It looked like it could have landed at the school grounds, it was scary. Unexpectedly, I guess I screamed the loudest and scared my friends, I even surprised myself!
By four in the morning, we counted like eighty-something falling stars in a span of fifteen minutes! Talk about a light show. The night's event began to take its toll on us with all the excitement, and we began to yawn, one at a time. It's so contagious to see someone yawn. We took it as our cue to say good night, or rather, good morning to each other. At five in the morning, the sandman had paid his visit, and all of a sudden, I got tired. I fell asleep as soon as I lay down.
When I woke up in the morning, I smelled like campfire smoke. Then I remembered the previous night's spectacular night show. I looked out the window and saw that our fire still smouldered and I had left our homemade tea pot, made out of an empty juice can, outside. To see it, I can actually still taste the tea. I saw that my hands still had the sticky tree gum from the wood. I smiled at the thought of my cherished memory of the meteor shower.
People who have played a significant role in my life. The most important, my mother. I've modeled my life after my mother, right down to how she cleans the house, her temperament, the way she decorates her home, how she handles herself and other people in a 'crisis', her routines and even how she dresses. We have so much in common; I admire her so much if there was an award for superwoman and wonder woman of the year, she would win both categories. I see myself in her at the age of fifty, and I'm not afraid of getting old if I would look like her at her age. Even the simple joys of living, I inherited from her. I learned a lot from my mom, from chid care to cleaning house to handicrafts. I always voted for my mom as any heroine because what seemed to be impossible, she managed to accomplish what she needed to do by the end of the day.
IMPORTANT PEOPLE IN MY LIFEThe next important person that I have as a role model is my grandmother, Rubina Harper. Nookoom Harper is my mom's mom. In fact, she's everyone's mom and kookoom. In every way, I see a little bit of my mother in her as well, even myself at the age of seventy. If I live life exactly the way they have, then I'm definitely not afraid of growing old. My granny has taught me a lot in life's little lessons, only she'd talk to me in our Cree dialect. I'm so proud of my granny when she completes in the handicrafts contest during the winter games; she always places first every year, with the occasional second prize. My granny told me not to expect to win every time you do something. So I learned that in everything I do, I take great pride in my work when I make something. I've seen some people keep some things as heirlooms, so I make sure I'm happy and satisfied with what I make. There is the possibility of one of my handicrafts ending up in some sort of museum, or a time capsule, or in an archive.
The other person significant in my life would be my husband, Ramsey. I met him at high school in my final year, and I've been with him ever since. We've matured gracefully and experienced our adult life together. Celebrating our 18th birthdays, filing our first income tax return, our first apartment in Winnipeg, getting our driver's licences, our first born son, and the five other precious loans we've received. Before long, our baby's into his terrible two's phase. It seems that time is flying by and what happens if the remainder goes by just as fast? I believe that behind every man is the woman who makes him the man he is. When I first heard it a while ago, I thought what part of it, is true? I've thought long and hard about it, I just think whatever comes along, we'd just grin and bear it, one day at a time.
The next person I modeled my home life after is the wife of Ramsey's uncle, Lorna Dumas from Nelson House. When we first had our son, we went to visit Uncle Willie and his wife for a week. This is the first time I have ever met her, and she instantly made me feel at home. It was as if I found the older sister that I never had. I saw how much Lorna loved her husband and how she loved the family they have, a total of four children then. Today, they have a new addition to their family, a baby boy, the seventh of their brood. Even the way she cooks and cleans, her house rules about her home and her children; I've adapted into mine. I decided that I wanted a large family like theirs because they were the ideal family. I saw the happiness and I wanted that too. Their kids would be there for each other when they grow older. I wanted my kids to have each other as well. I sometimes have a hard time with my kids but then I remember that Lorna has seven, my grandmother had twelve, so I figured that I would make do with what I could and not complain too much. This couple are so close to us, that they named their second youngest son after Ramsey. Lorna probably knows how lucky she is, between the usual kid squabbles, referring, and assigning time outs.
The accomplishments that I am most proud of is the fact that I'm doing so well to my expectations of life. I have Ramsey, still going strong after so long. Ever hear the song by Shania Twain, "Still the One"? The song describes that a couple weren't meant to be because of their differences and that they've proved everybody wrong by still being together. The song describes us because we were told that we weren't going to make it because of our differences. We are of different Cree dialects, our reserves are almost a province apart, he's into drinking for a good time with his friends; I liked to go to town. I have my family of five children, with one in Heaven. If material things count, then we have some of that too. We've worked hard for the 'toys' we have. When we first started out, we didn't have anything; but with budgeting, we were able to purchase a few things for use when we needed to go out. Our latest big ticket item we purchased was a computer we bought for our university courses work load for the next couple of years. We have our happiness, each other, and the kids. Our other family and friends are a part of our daily lives, with the jokes and kidding around, the gym nights, or some kind of get together. I may sound like I'm bragging, but I think I have it made, and I'm so proud that I think I've acquired almost everything to make life comfortable. All that's missing is the little piece of paper that declares that I qualify to teach the leaders of our future.
My granny is the most colourful person I know, she's the most wisest and talented person. Looking at her and seeing what she accomplished in her seventy years has made me so proud of her. I say she's the most colourful because she's so radiant with her beauty and wisdom; I wish to be exactly like her. She possesses the many talents and skills that any woman could ever hope to acquire in a lifetime.For one thing, the way she picks her colours when she does her beadwork is breathtakingly beautiful. My granny takes such pride in her work that they are forever if you take proper care of the item. The workmanship of her handicrafts is in such great demand; that people place orders with her months in advance. She makes her talented hands work any piece of leather or material turn out to be such a prize.
A COLOURFUL ANCESTORMy granny made a pair of mukluks one year and entered them in a handicraft contest during the winter games; she won first place. She gave them to me; and I told her I would keep them for as long as I can and that I would hand them down to my daughters. She told me not to get attached to material things because if anything happened to something you cherished, you would get upset, and that unwanted negative feelings is unnecessary.
Other words of to live by, according to my wise granny, are to be careful of the choice of words you use, sometimes people can use your very own words against you. It is also important to speak out of respect and to be considerate of other people. She said to treat people exactly the same way you want to be treated. I've kept her words of advice in mind when I interact with people.
Another one of my granny's words of advice is about her insight about children. The utmost important rule about children is to treat them with the greatest respect, patience, and love. We should not speak to kids too harshly because they are so delicate and fragile. Children's nature start to form from day one up to about the age of five, their temperament all depends on how their home life is and how they are treated.
My granny stands behind a powerful man, my gramps. I mentioned at one time or another, that behind every man is the woman who makes him the man he is. I believe this is true for my grandparents. My granny was there as my gramps' rock for support; emotional and spiritual. My gramps was Chief for a few terms and a councillor at other times. My granny helped him through the difficult times at the time he was a leader. It's hard to imagine one without the other, right beside each other. I have twelve uncles and aunts and everyone of them has had an impact on my life. Since I've reached adulthood, it's as if I was part of the sibling crew and not just a niece.
My granny has made so many things over the years and for so many people, I sometimes wonder if she has ever kept anything for herself to use. I thought that it's about time someone made something for her for a change. I planned to make her a star blanket; since her birthday is in June, I thought I'd use her birthstone's colour, only I'd use various shades of pink. A colourful blanket for a very colourful, radiant person.
Finally, I have to admit that I do want to be exactly as my granny in every possible way. She is one of the most respected elders of the community. It took a lifetime of experiences to get where she is today. When I told her my intentions, she said that you don't have to have grey hair or wrinkles; you don't have to be old to be wise or to be an elder.
'Frustrating Day’
I realized I was slept on the couch before I opened my eyes because I felt the stiffness in my back and that I already had a headache. Must be my turn with the flu. I was conscious but I didn’t open my eyes just yet. I lay there, decided on what to tackle first, then I remembered that I had planned to shop in The Pas that day. I know a frustrating time is about to occur because I hoped to be on the road before lunch. For your information, that’s a four-hour ride.
For some reason, Saturdays are the most chaotic in my house. I have five children and a puppy. Curtis takes charge when he thinks I’m still asleep. Paywahpun contests his authority. For a girl who’s only six, she’s got the attitude of a sixteen year old. They argue which cartoon to watch and whose turn it is to make juice, or to get Quincy off the table. Then there’s Tamara, complaining of an upset stomach and Angela developed a sore ear. Our puppy, Shadow, gets every one of them all riled up with his playfulness. Yes, the pitter patter of five sets of feet running back and forth in our home.
Okay, what’s next? By nine o’clock, all three girls fought over the only two clear plastic spoons in the house. Cheerios for breakfast for the little ones. I gave the baby girl a regular metal spoon, she looks at it, then reaches over to switch with Tammy. Tamara starts screaming that she wants her pretty spoon back. Angela knows she has to give it back but she ducks under the table to protest about giving it back. Pay wasn’t satisfied, by then, Curt and Pay argue over the last two waffles. To compromise, I tell them one each for now and that I’d make pancakes. When breakfast is over, I send the two older ones out to play. Teletubbies is on television to keep the little ones occupied.
I tried to figure out where to clean first. I throw in a load of laundry, then soak my dishes for the time being while I swept the floor. I put the garbage by the door. Before I knew it, Shadow has already shredded the garbage bag. I needed to wash the floor anyway.
Then Ramsey calls me from the bedroom. I tell him to get up and mind the babies and to pick up after Shadow’s mess by the door while I try to finish cleaning up. He decides that he doesn’t feel too well. I looked at him, tell him I already have two cranky girls and that I didn’t need another big baby to play nurse to. I knew he was faking because I joked that I planned to go to town after my clean up. He sprang off the bed so fast, he sings, “It’s a miracle!” I smirk at him. Yeah, right. I make a gesture to pop his imaginary balloon. He then falls back in bed, his leg twitching convulsively. He claims to have a relapse. So I tell him to quit his clowning or I’d give him a charley horse to make his leg twitch for real. I tell him I know of a foolproof cure. Funny thing, it is to watch him suddenly sit up and look so serious. I seize the moment to tell him he will be cured forever if he danced with the mop. Asks me what the cure is to that, I tell him that he needed that particular leg to drive.
I guess I didn’t really have a bad day but rather a frustrating morning because it seems so crazy to clean the house, the kids, and to get ready to get on the road. By after lunch we’re gone. And yes, the thought of going shopping cured my headache.
Who needs English?
English is the language that has been spoken since almost forever. English accents are different because of our backgrounds and there are varieties, not dialect, which is as old as the language itself. There is the American variety and the British variety with the international preference for the American for which most of the world’s population is learning to master. For a language that has no boundaries, the American English is a living language that is constantly growing, thriving and moving around. California is an example of one of the places that produce slang and jargon, which with time is influential internationally.
Regardless of mother tongue, English will probably be everyone’s first language. It is internationally understood that it’s the #1 foreign language taught in schools otherwise it is the secondary language learned. Because of the global appetite for information, all students and everybody else world wide are studying to master the English language and with its spelling, writing and grammar which is vital and essential for a career in business, science, medicine, law, politics, civil administration and government. It is also socially desirable is some countries to know English.
Worldwide, English is used to the extent that almost dominates every form of communication. News on television, newspapers, music, movies, and in trades, whereas world English and world trades are taking off together. An example of world English is that sexism is an issue and some words are being replaced such as ‘chairman’ to ‘chairperson.’ Even gay terminology is used, an example would be ‘out of the closet,’ meaning publicly admitting your true sexuality. English is the language in technology as well, computer terms such as software and hardware to name a few, or when the staff don’t really talk, they interface, such as “I’m in work mode” or ‘vacation mode.’
Other places, such as in Japan, they’ve developed ‘Jap-lish.’ In Africa, on a work site there would be six different languages but use English for day to day communication in which they speak ‘Cringo-lish.’
In India, they tried to replace English with Hindu but Hindu is the neutral language but the Queen’s English wasn’t easily dethroned. Over 17 million speak English in which is more than the British population.Influence on English has grown because of military and economic power. WWII was the finest hour for the English language because of the British umpire. The decline of the British umpire resulted in the new power of English, the American English. From the Queen’s English to the American English, world English will dominate our indefinite future and already 100 million people, and then more, use English to some point.
In closure, English has become the universal language and is truly without frontiers: a language of the skies and the seven seas. A message is repeatedly being broadcast out into the universe, a friendly greeting in English.
A PARAGRAPH IS LIKE A SANDWICH
The other day I realized how much my pet dog meant to me... I put Shadow outside for fresh air just after lunchtime. I only meant to leave him out for half an hour. There was so much traffic in our neighborhood that day. Being New Years day and all, I noticed there were new kids playing in our yard. I started cleaning up the house. I was also busy with the little ones. By the time we finished with supper, I got Shadow’s food to feed him and I realized he wasn’t in the house. I called him, then I went to check next door. He wasn’t there! I got all the kids to look for him. We were all so sad when we went to bed that night. Shadow was missing. I don’t blame anybody for trying to swipe our little mutt, he’s so cute and tiny. We lost him for a total of seven days. On Monday, my brother-in-law found him in another part of town and brought him home...I sighed with relief.It reminds me of the time when I was visiting at my grandmother's in my home reserve of Garden Hill...
My dear Kookoom greeted me so warmly that I wonder why she’s being overly loving. Turned out everyone was busy with something else and that I was the only one that came around that day. So we get to work lacing the hide to the hand-made frame. We stretched it as far as it would go. Then the task of scraping the fur off the hide with a knife-like blade, similar to a scraper for a vehicle window. By suppertime we worked most of the hide and my arms hurt from working so hard. I complained that it was too hot to work anymore. I was sweating so much my hair was wet and I could taste the salty flavor of sweat as it dribbled down onto my lips.
AN ANIMAL THAT REPRESENTS MY PERSONALITY
Honestly, I would be embarrassed to admit that I choose the otter. Most times, I’m in a playful mood. It’s even fun to watch otters play. They aren’t predatory or hostile in any way and they seem to live life to the fullest every day. If I saw my children or my friends in a grumpy mood, I’d do something to get a smile out of them, even better if it were a hearty laugh. I’m pretty carefree myself, come to think of it. The maternal instinct of the otter mirrors mine when it comes to the babies. In the water, the otter swims on her back when eating or holding their little one. At home, I would be relaxing on the couch and I’d be holding my baby the same way. Yeah, I’ll admit I eat my popcorn the same way too but only when a good movie is on. I would probably say that I’m not as verbal, just the same as the otter, not talkative but alert in every way.
A LETTER FROM AN ANCESTOR
Dear Noochitchum,Esqueasis, you were dreaming, and we were sitting at the fire of my time, which is why the fire’s glow is our only light. I am only telling you what you already know.
You will be born to a line of women who are strong, independent and patient of your family tree. You have never met me nor have you even heard of me until you start wondering about your past generations. You ask my dear baby girl, your grandmother, who I am. You will be the descendent of myself and my blood will be cursing through your veins, as it will in your daughters’ as well.
You will learn and will realize to take your upbringing into consideration when you have daughters of your own. You will see that you will be overly protective of your little ones as a mother bear would. You come to realize that the life the Creator has given you and those that you will give life, and nurture will be equally as precious.
As a girl, you learned the crafts of our native culture. To bead, to sew gloves, to cook, and wilderness survival. As a woman, you learn more. You make a tikinagan for the little ones you will bear. Patience, motherhood, sewing star blankets, and respect for all things. You will hope that what you’ve acquired, your daughters will follow your footsteps. Importantly, to stand behind your life partner and to defend all things between you and him. To treat him with great respect.
Know this, Esqueasis, the Creator has not punished you by taking back the angel He has given you for the short time you had her. Rather, it is a test of your soul and compassion to ready you for the next test. Now you ask what other test could there be that is it harder than losing your princess. I cannot tell you but you will eventually find out. The Creator will not give you a burden that you cannot handle. You come to realize that you do have a strong heart and life does go on. Time heals all wounds. Another lesson you learn is you have to let go.
So my girl, you’re on the right path.
Tanakoo
CONFLICT WITH NATURE
As everybody’s nightmare, the sighting of a mouse in the house could only mean one thing. Possibly that mice are moving in? Indian summer has come and gone and the chill is in the air. Survival instincts kick in and mice are looking for a warm environment for the winter. I’ve had three babies in three years. I’ve become such a neat freak and a perfectionist that the thought of mice in my house is disgustingly unreal, but it happened. I came across little black pellets on the floor, in corners, and in my cellar.So the war has begun. In the Linklater household, on the top floor…myself as the lady of the house with my sidekick, Shadow. In the cellar, mooching mice. More than two hundred pounds of weight separate the opposing sides. The fear factor is equal. I despise the thought of germs the mice might be carrying, touching any of my babies. The mice probably fear the ‘big person’ and the monstrous puppy. It’s the battle of survival for the mice, cleanliness for the mother and the thrill of the chase for Shadow.
After a week of battling with the microscopic bacteria/virus carriers, they sense that going upstairs is a one way suicidal trip. The puppy has acquired the taste for mice. I noticed that if I dropped a few pieces of puppy chow into the cellar, there weren’t any pellets to sweep up and to sanitize the house. In an unspoken way, I think we’ve come to terms to compromise that if I throw down a handful of puppy chow, the mice stayed down there. My house has been poop-free, and Shadow is now bored.
With my conflict with wildlife, I have won the war. The survival of the fittest, and life to the fullest. Now if the mice for the next generation should ever be enormously mutated…I shudder at the thought.
SOUTHERN GREENHORNS
“Yow! It’s bright, who ripped off my tarp cover? What a beautiful sunny day! I can already taste the snow. Wait a minute, who are you? Where’s my lady? What are you doing? That’s not how my lady does it. You’re supposed to check my engine, then my gas, and my oil. You’ve forgotten my coolant. What do you think you’re doing? What’s going on? My lady is selling me for how much? Is that all I’m worth now? Doesn’t it count that we had a lot of fun together last winter? I get the picture, something newer, is that it? I’m the only Indy 500 with a one of a kind graphic of a crazy cat on my windshield, so you better reconsider your options. You can tell they don’t know what they’re doing or what they’re talking about! Listen to their questions! How many times should oil be poured and what kind? Should the gasoline be mixed or not? They don’t even know where my coolant goes! These people must have previously owned an Elan, a twelve- horse! Hyuk, hyuk I shouldn’t be laughing. A twelve-horse doesn’t even come close to the high maintenance I require. Miss? Hello? Aren’t you going to say good bye? No last hug? That’s what I thought, now maybe you’ll change your mind. Please don’t sell me! Deal is done? Rats! Well, be good, it was my pleasure serving you for the past two winters”.“My first day being with the inexperienced enthusiasts. Oh boy, they’re dressed for a day of sledding. I hope they know what they’re doing. Wonder if they will remember to check the major ‘blood’ lines. Turn the key gently, please. You’re supposed to let me warm up for at least fifteen minutes. You’re also supposed to lift my back end and press the throttle to get my track going. Wait, I’m not warmed up yet. Don’t jump on yet, both of you get off!”
“I’ll get to the point, if you’re hard on me, I’ll be hard on you, and your wallet. Don’t think I handle the same way your twelve-horse does. I’m a heavy weight, so you better watch where you’re driving. I can tell you are not that strong by the way you are steering.”
“Watch the rocks! By the way, my sliders came off when you went over those rocks. My belt is coming off, and my spark plugs are loose. I’m overheating because you didn’t pour in any more coolant. This must have been the most stressful, painful day since I left the dealership lot. Sigh… wait until you see the repair bill.”
The Journey of the Yukon Passage
The Yukon Passage is one of the hidden wonders of the Canadian wilderness. Gold was discovered, and the Klondike Rush began. In the late 1800’s, thousands travelled mostly by rafts on the river for Klondike gold. With over 600 miles, some got lost, some starved, and others died of exposure. Located two days from the Pacific Ocean, and almost a day’s hike from the tree line, then arriving on the third day but only at the Arctic Circle.
On Stampeder’s Trail, ten thousand people had camped to build their rafts to take them on the river during the gold rush. The miners that had made it never got rich, many went belly up and died broke.
Now four men, Bob, Gerry, Keith and Paul, attracted by the wilderness and adventure want to experience what thousands of people that had journeyed the same Yukon Passage to Marshall, Alaska. The crew; as we will call these men, are ready to experience the journey that many had travelled during the gold rush to the Yukon.The crew had sent most of their supplies on the Marigate Railway that had been built during the Klondike rush.
They’ve arrived at Stampeder’s Trial, and begin to cut logs to build their raft. Each log weighs about a thousand pounds each. By the time they finished their raft it is 38 x 20 feet and weighs a total of ten tons. The raft is big enough that a canvas tent that occupies the four men and all their gear including a kitchen. It is sturdy enough to hold up a gigantic sail, like the kind on ships. On June 8, the crew is on their way.
Some obstacles along the way are sandbars, trees leaning over the river, drift logs, and debris of every kind.
By July 12, the river is high. The crew gets stuck on a gravel bar. They try to push off on one side towards the easiest direction to no success. They will have to lighten their load on the raft by taking their belongings to the shore by canoe. If all else fails, they would have to dismantle the raft and rebuild in deeper water. After three hours of pushing, they float down the river, only to get stuck again.
They have arrived at Five Finger Rapids, where the current is swift. The current is so fast that steamboats where wenched up stream by cable and the engines on full throttle. They know they will have to stay on the extreme right because it was the straightest way down. They miss and hit one of the island’s highest rocks. The raft is damaged by the collision and they start to lose their logs.
After four days, and a major repair job, Dawson, Yukon Territories comes to view. This is where 15 million dollars in gold came out of the Klondike gold rush in 1901. The men visit the Gold Rush Gambling House, where they were shown a good time. Each year on the anniversary, the Klondiker’s have a celebration to commemorate the discovery of gold.With the promise of adventure, the four men now head toward an Eskimo village that is twice the distance they’ve already travelled. On the way, they witness the cutting of trees that marks the border into Alaska.
They’ve met the Rubble family along the way, and visit for a while. Out of curiosity, they ask the man of the house why they chose to live away from civilization. Mr. Rubble and his family say they are content with their way of life. The men were shown how the Rubble’s catch their fish with a chute that dips in the water and what it catches, gets deposited into a crate.
September 11, the men are only twenty-four miles away from Ruby, Alaska. They decide to stop until the river freezes. Confronted by the need for a cabin, they use the raft’s logs to build the cabin, which takes them four weeks to build. So they say good bye to the raft and hello to the cabin.
October 28, snow begins to pile high, and the temperature is –30. They live the life of a trapper for a few weeks, having fun at the same time.December 15, the river has frozen solid. A dog team is flown in, with another 500 miles to go. The crew has never traveled by dog team before. As they go, they notice the villages are only about twenty-five miles apart along the river. The sun rises just above the horizon only for four hours.
For the next 160 miles, there are no villages and hardly any trails. It starts to get harder. It sometimes even rains in January as they trek in the low water level.Finally, on January 6, they’ve arrived in Marshall, Alaska. As the final words of one of the guys, he said that it was a good year, didn’t miss a meal, didn’t get crippled, spent it with friends, had no money to begin with but have the memories of the adventure. Even to go on another adventure, good partners would be the same people.
SUSPENSEFUL EVENT
Bingo is played on Pukatawagan’s MRNCI radio bingo on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. There are two games played; the empty house, then carried over to the full house. The week’s pot had accumulated to over $12,000, plus fifty per cent of sales sold that night.The game had started, and I realized that I needed only two more numbers for the empty house. I told Ramsey, and he came over to inspect my card; then informed me that G-54 had already been called. How could I have missed a number? I dabbed the number a glorious shade of blue, and he could see that I needed O-64. Ever so calmly, Ramsey said that was a toonie number!
I broke out to a ‘bingo sweat’, which was what happens with the possibility of winning ‘the big one’. Well, the pot was huge, in the thousands! Then it happened, the bingo caller called my number. I was in a state of shock for a couple of seconds, but it seemed like forever, I snapped out of it and grabbed the phone to call it in. I was so anxious that I even forgot the number to the radio station! After had dialed the phone number wrong three times, I finally got through on the fourth try. I breathlessly announced that my win was on the toonie number, O-64.The bingo crew asked for my name, my phone number, and my winning bingo numbers, plus the number I had won on. They told me to wait for a phone call to confirm my win, a half-hour wait. The people without a phone had to walk to the bingo seller’s house to confirm if they had a potential winner.
That half-hour was the longest ever in my whole life! The suspense of knowing that I probably had won the $12,000 pot was unimaginable. Then the suspense of the possibility of not winning was even worse. I kept looking at the clock at every minute, I was pacing the house, and I even started to sweep and mop the floor to deal with the anxiety. It was too much for me to handle and I even started to get Ramsey nervous.The phone rang at a little after eight. I knew it was the bingo crew calling to confirm if I had won or not. I was too scared to answer it, but I had to know. The familiar voice of the popular deejay chattered into my ear before I even said hello. By the happy tone of his voice, I immediately knew I got the big win. Ramsey and I couldn’t believe it just yet, we were still in a state of denial, until our friends came over and celebrated with us. Then it seemed for real and it was the real thing.
I finally received my big check a couple days afterward, a total of $12,747. I told Ramsey that I hoped that I would never have to deal with that kind of stress again. It was too unbearable to win a bingo pot as huge as it was! What did I do with the money? I paid off my truck, bought myself an Indy 500 Polaris, and went on a shopping trip to Thompson. Money well spent on my terms.
Burial Ceremony
I attended a burial ceremony at the Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church, for a little girl that had fallen through the ice. It was on a beautiful spring day in April. Walking into the church, I could see and feel the grief and the mourning of everyone there. The church was so full; with my baby in my arms, I wasn’t sure where to sit so I could put her down. Then I saw the familiar faces of my friends and family so I went and sat with them.In front was a little white casket, surrounded by the most abundant of flowers in every shape and color. I could smell the flowers on top of the casket, a real bouquet of red roses with baby’s breath.
The church service had started with the prayers and the readings, and then the choir sang the familiar, beautiful hymns. The sound was different, I looked up to see why; it was the extended family of the father that lost his little girl. They had come a long way for the funeral; and the grandparents of the little girl sang for her as well. When it was over, everyone got up to pay their last respects. As I watched from my seat, I saw the raw emotions in everyone’s face. It was so touching to see how much this little girl was loved; it did something to me that I have never felt before.
The pallbearers carried the little white casket outside, friends and cousins of the little girl, no more than twelve years old. I followed as they took her outside, then I heard the familiar sound of the drum. The father’s drum group had come and sang her favorite song as their final good bye, as she had been a jingle dress dancer. The powerful sound of the drum had begun to stir the emotions in me, so I quietly began to weep for her. The song ended, and they continued to take her to her final resting place on the hill.
Then I heard the anguished wail of the mother. I knew that the mother was heart broken because the girl had been her first daughter; and she cried for the plans she had her. I also knew that she felt cheated; the mother was looking forward for the most beautiful grandchildren. I knew the little girl’s nickname was Princess, and she was in every way.
I know all this because I am that mother. I was in denial for the longest time. I’ve finally accepted the fact that she’s gone; and I’ve had the comfort of knowing that my other daughter saw something, or someone. When we were looking for Marilyn, my younger daughter Paywahpun, said that the ‘Lady’ took her. When I asked her where, all she did then, was point to the sky. Now I know that my Princess has her own set of wings and a halo that glows, and that we have an angel watching over us.
Memorable Human Conflict I Have Witnessed
Ramsey rudely awakened me one early morning, by breathing his dragon breath on me. I growled at him to leave me alone and that it was still too early, the kids weren’t even up yet. I told him to wake me up when the crows have had their morning poop session, and that it should at least hit the ground. He laughed at me, so I looked at him again.Ramsey, the grumpy bear who usually doesn’t even see the morning light, tried to drag me out of bed. Then I remembered that it was Saturday and that he was on his weekend behavior, under the influence. I told him I refuse to get up unless I smelled the coffee. On his own free will, he actually made a pot of coffee for me.
I stumbled out of bed and did my morning thing in the washroom. The sand in my eyes tells me it must be only about seven in the morning. I look at him and he has a goofy grin on his face. I asked him what was up, and ever so nonchalant, he asked if I wanted to go play football.
“Football? At seven in the morning?” I mumbled that he was crazy and I made the attempt to dive back into bed. Knowing my intention, he blocked me, sat me down at the kitchen table, and made me my morning coffee. I sat there with my eyes still closed, and he poked at me to wake up. I drank the coffee he made; it helped a little.
He was so insistent that I go with him to the school’s football field. I told him I would go, but I would sleep there. I told my friend who had slept over; to mind the kids while I was at the field.
Upon our arrival, I looked out to see who would actually be there to play football. I was shocked to count at least sixteen people out on the field. I asked him what the occasion was; Ramsey said nothing special, just a get together. I looked at him and again asked, at seven in the morning?
I made my way across the field to where the spectators sat. I tried so hard to open my eyes, then I noticed that there were girls on the field as well. That was a sight, a coed football game, I noticed it was for real. I watched for a while, then my brothers-in-law kept calling me to play. I saw that it was for real contact game. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle the guys if they attacked me if I decided to play.
I finally jumped in when the girls called me in. We played a couple of games with no mercy tagging and dive bombing. I was so sore, but by noon we were starved. One of the girls lived just a hop, skip, and a jump away; she asked me to go with her to her place for a while. The football crowd ended up at her trailer, and a full-scale barbecue was in place.
We all agreed that it was fun and that we would play again on a regular basis. My only regret was that I did not warm up before I played and I was extremely sore and stiff afterward.
Changing Views
My views through childhood, teen years, and adulthood hasn’t changed much and it is about life; whatever happens, happened. I think about fate, the stars, and what the Boss upstairs throws in the path of someone when He thinks that someone needs a nudge in the right direction, or a little lesson. The way He works in mysterious ways.In my life, I counted the good times and the hard times. Everyone has their share of joys and hard knocks at some point, and I’ve had mine. I wouldn’t be the person that I am today if the past thirty years hadn’t turn out the way it did. Some experiences have made me realize my compassion, my emotional being, my desire for life, my well-being, my goals, my pains, my losses, and my mistakes I learned from, it has also made me more humble. I learned that no one is perfect and that everyone has their faults and make their mistakes, we are all only human. I learned not to judge, no matter how bad it can look, and that everyone deserves a chance. I probably invented the ‘second chance!’
In my childhood, I felt the love from my parents, grandparents, and my aunts and uncles. We did things together from camping to picking berries to visiting people. I want my children to experience the same devotion from their relatives. The feeling is so strong, it’s practically an ache because like everyone else, I want to give my child the best and to protect their innocence. Children only have so little time to be children.
The difference then and now differs only slightly. For attire, I used to prefer jeans and t-shirts as to stretchy pants and sweaters I wear now. I think about comfort when it comes to clothes and not the latest trends. I only care that the colors should at least match and reflect my mood, and maybe try to hide the extra ‘muscles’ I acquired from bearing children.
I used to have the spontaneity when I was single, doing whatever I felt like at the spur of the moment. Today, I check in with my other half to see what his plans are. If he goes or stays home, I have that time to do my thing.
As a rule in our house, one of us is usually with the brat pack, as I call my kids when they are being uncooperative. I feel so loved when I go home though after not seeing them for a couple of hours, all hugs and kisses, and to hear the munchkin voices say ‘I love you, Momma.’ I’d miss out on the sticky fingers, and the hugs and kisses. I wouldn’t have anybody to yell at! I would never trade places with anyone, ever.
I’m still living and experiencing life. I’ll probably get my great-grandchildren to hand in my memoirs when I’ve closed my eyes for the final time. Maybe I’ll get a good grade for my communications course when I write about my wisdom and philosophy of life.
Pros and Cons of Leaving Pukatawagan for a City
To leave Pukatawagan and its wonderful scenery, the freedom of movement and the joys of nature outings would be such a culture shock to me, if I were ever to leave for the city for more than a few weeks. I am used to walking on the soft ground of Mother Earth. With the sights of different pictures of the seasons, believe me, there is nothing as breathtakingly beautiful as the country we see every day. I don’t take it for granted that I would have the joys of home. There is so much to do that if anyone ever said that it was boring, then they haven’t been with the right people.We have our legs, that we don’t have protruding from our bodies for decoration, for movement and getting around. The exercise to walk is beneficiary for the heart and soul anyway, so why not take it to the extreme?
We don’t need a fifty dollar bus pass to get around here, it’s so simple with our one main road, everybody bumps into everybody at one time or another. Taxi fare isn’t as ridiculous as in the city, nor do we have the transit bus rides. Just imagine the waste of time to wait at a bus stop, but that all depends on different people, if their time is money.
Every once in a while, I’d take the seven-hour ride to the city of Winnipeg. It has its good points, the variety of stores for instance. As a parent with five growing kids, I especially like the V.V. Boutique; in code to any other parent with kids, it’s the Value Village. Then there’s the assortment of theatres, casinos, malls, the pools, and the discovery zone for the kids, we don’t have the kind of variety of entertainment up north.
The only time I would leave Pukatawagan is that I hope to pursue my education at Brandon University in a couple of years, and the only time I would be glad to get away from Pukatawagan’s infamous mud. Not a pretty sight to have the au natural ankle weights of ten pounds on each foot. So if you ever plan to visit my home, don’t bring brand new Nikes, you’ll forget what color they ever were. It does rain here.
Life in Puk 40 Years from Now
The plain hard truth of what life will be like by the year 2042 in Pukatawagan is that I predict there will be a panic when the announcement that the framework agreement initiative will take effect. One example of the F.A.I. is the welfare system will cease. A sudden reality to the majority of the on-reserve population because the dependence of the handouts every month.
The members of the reserve will realize the importance of education, and will strive for an education and a successful career for themselves and their children. Until they realize the value of education, their way of life will continue. In turn, children will not take school seriously; thus the cycle continues. Although it’s the new millennium, there is the possibility of illiterate adults and they are unemployed.
The people will try to change their ways to get the education and a career they will require to purchase the necessities of daily living. Even if it is the most basic needs, money will be needed to purchase anything. It will probably be that the treaty agreement will not matter any longer.
It will and remain extremely important to retain the traditions of the native culture, such as hunting, trapping, fishing, and camping in the event that the native version of the ‘Y2K’ should ever materialize. We have taught our children to be self-reliant in the ways of gathering and hunting food. I have stressed to my children that education is important and that attending school is a guarantee to a positive lifestyle, with a successful career.
The Barn
My summers were spent growing up on an island in Garden Hill. I was isolated from my friends and from the main land where everybody lived, but I had my cousins. The island had a barn as we kids had called it, but it was actually an ice shack.Located at least 200 meters away from Granny’s house, it was two stories high and painted bright red, inside was a roomful of wood shavings, about the size of a small house. When you first walk in, you think it’s an ordinary building to store wood or something. Take another twenty steps straight, you look through a door and you are time warped into another era. Looking in, you see the sky through the cracks in the roof, and the big windows up in the corner of the walls, by the ceiling. A door on the lakeside of the building also let in natural light. The rafters made it look like a real barn from inside. Half of the building had a second floor and the other half was where you could climb on the rafters. Inside, my older cousins tied a rope for swinging. We swung Tarzan-style and did holler ‘the Tarzan call.’ The initiation, then you were considered ‘grown up’.
No other building such as our barn was ever built in any of the surrounding areas. This was the place to go when you were told to go play outside. Or on rainy days, when the parents started getting grouchy, crabby, itchy, picky…we ran for the barn. We knew the parents could only take so much when there’s ten year olds running around, being loud in the house.
Counting my cousins, there are usually sixteen of us. Enough to play Indian baseball, soccer, dodge ball, hide and go seek, tag; you name it, we played it. We were so athletic when we were younger. Competitive when we became teenagers. Lazy, now that we’re older.Some touches that I experienced nowadays sometimes take me back to the days at the barn. The rope burn on my hands from swinging, the calluses from climbing, the itchiness from rolling around, the grass cuts, and the sting from insect bites. I was a kid, and I was immune to the bumps and bruises that come with hard playing.
The sounds of summer that I remember were the crickets, frogs, loons, owls, dogs barking, water splashing, boat and motors cruising, the planes flying, us laughing, and the commands spoken in our Cree to “come and eat!” or “come inside now!”
The smells associated with the barn were of wood shavings, the smell of grass when it was cut or when it rained, the poop from birds and mice, the farts from my older cousins, and the aroma of raspberries that grew on the lakeside.
There was such as abundance of berries, we never went hungry. We had raspberries, blueberries, black berries, choke cherries, and strawberries. I could just taste the handful of strawberries, my eye water and my face contorts from the sheer thought of the sourness. All these berries grew within the radius of 150 meters of the barn.
Finally, I matured and closed the chapter of my childishness; at least I thought I did. I left to go to school in Cranberry Portage at the age of 14, and my mother called to tell me the barn had burnt down. I felt a loss realizing that my childhood’s haven was gone, and I would never see it again. I have my memories, which no fire will take away from me.
FAMILY PHOTO ALBUM
