Saturday, January 18, 2014

Pictures can be Deceiving

Holy Angeles Residence
This is a letter I wrote to the National Post on January 12, 2014 in response to their article on January 11, on residential schools. January 20, 2014 my letter, with others, was published in the letters to the editor section of the paper.

January 12, 2014

Dear Editor of the National Post:


A clear evening with the snow glittering like tiny fragments of diamonds, we walked to the residential school in silence.  I could hardly contain my excitement. 

Because I had been hospitalized, my first day at the Holy Angels Residential School, in Alberta, was in December.  A student ran outside to tell my sister we had arrived.  Outside, one of the other girls gave me a piece of dry-meat as they pulled me around the playground on a sled. Children’s laughter echoed in the darkness. An idyllic picture, maybe. 

I was lucky and was not abused, but I now know abuses were occurring.  I remember the smiling faces, but only now I also see pain behind the smiles.

After Vatican II, positive changes were being made.  But at the same time terrible things continued, not always at the hands of the nuns, but certainly under their watch.Incidents recounted by some of my family bring tears to my eyes. I see how their lives were shattered before they even had a chance to live them. I fully appreciate that they really didn’t stand a chance for any normalcy. Their innocence was lost, or rather, taken, inside that school. Their deep scars are invisible to those of us who didn’t experience what they went through.

There is no justification for what happened certainly not saying: “They received an education that enabled them to cope with life.”  The truth is, their school experience destroyed their ability to cope.

E. A. Pratt
Dunrobin Ontario
Student at Holy Angels Residential School, Fort Chipewyan, Alberta


NOT AS IT APPEARS   

I am top 2nd to the right
A few years ago I could not have written the above letter.  In my mind, I thought it was a blessing that I went to residential school. I enjoyed school, and Holy Angels had a nice library where I spent my time reading.

I recall many happy events, we had movie night, games night, went camping in the summer at Dorey Lake. At Christmas we received gifts before we went home for the holidays.  And my older sister, Dora, was working down the hall, as a cook, cooking our meals. 

But most of all, I treasure the lifelong bond I formed with the other students. We have an intimate connection through a shared experience, which very few can appreciate. 

Perhaps, I was one of the few lucky ones who was unscathed by this experience. I mistakenly thought that because we were one of the last students in Holy Angels Residential School before it was closed in the early 80's, and things were changing for the positive, that the other students had the same experience I had.  I could have not been more mistaken.

As it happened, I wrongly assumed because of these changes, being there was not as bad as what older generations went through. Under the earlier directive of DuncanCampbell Scott, an early 20th century Indian Affairs official said;
      
“our objective is to continue until there is not a single Indian in Canada that has not     been absorbed into the body politic and there is no Indian question, and no Indian       department.” 

Fortunately, by the time I was in residential school we were no longer prevented from speaking our native language, we were allowed to keep our long hair, we were also allowed to go home on weekends and accepted visitors in the pallor.  Times were changing and in large part for the better.  However, under that fabric of change, there still existed the notion that by our charges that we were still less human in the eyes of our guardians.    

As I learnt more about the horrific experiences of some of the students. These stories broke my heart, especially those in my own immediate family, it became clear to me that no good came from being in residential schools. 

As I reflect back, I remember, students running away only to be returned to the school crying. Until hearing some of the accounts by former students, I could not begin to imagine the horrible things they had to endure.  I was there, and didn’t know what was happening.  And what happened, cannot be denied or justified. To do that is to dishonour the experiences of many, many, many, children. 

Canadian Residential Schools in fact has ruined the lives of generations of First Nations peoples in Canada. Under no viewpoint can this destruction be rationalized. It was horrific and left in its wake many broken children. 

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Are You the Driver

Life Happens! 

I am the driver.  I am in control of how my life unfolds and how I navigate the bumps along the way.  If you take my wheel, I might let you, for a while.  But then I will gently take it back because I accept that, I, alone am responsible for where I am going. 

I am a people watcher. I have excellent intuitive skills and in knowing what someone is about to do. When I am driving, I notice drivers around me, and I can tell when someone is about to change lanes beside me.  I modify what I am going to do by reacting to what others around me are about to do.  This is a lesson from driver training class, to always share the road because no two people can be in the same space at the same time. That is chaos. 

I am a risks taker. I have been known to pick up hitchhikers.  Once, while driving with a co-worker, I stopped to pick up a hitchhiker, but just as I watched him running towards my vehicle I had this feeling I should just drive away leaving him in my rear view mirror.  But, I didn’t because it would be discourteous.  Nothing happened. However, later we heard on the news that a mental patient had escaped from the institute near where we stopped.  Lesson here is always trust your gut, even if you might hurt someone’s feelings or look bad.

I am a big picture kind of girl. Here again, lessons from my driver instructor, who emphasized in class to always see the "big picture".  If there is an obstacle blocking your view, don’t just speed ahead, slow down and pull back until you see the big picture, what is ahead, beside, and behind you.  When it is clear on all sides, make a decision, don’t hesitate, and just proceed forward.

I like to be prepared and ask questions.  I like to think of all possibilities and things that can happen down the road. Much like having an emergency kit in my car with the usually stuff, candle, blanket, and chocolates. Although, the chocolates I have to keep replenishing for some reason. Be prepared by having the right tools at the ready.  That said, it does not mean I am not occasionally spontaneous, sometimes, I like to just get in my car and drive just for the experience.

Timing is important. I detest being late and will continuously allow for possible interruptions. Most of the time I am early, which gives me time to pause and clear my head before proceeding. If there is a delay, as has happened recently due to someone I picked up who was not ready on time.  I decided to accept it without anxiety, and allow that whenever we got there will be fine.  In this instance, there was a horrible accident, and if I had my way, I would have been there right in the middle of that accident.  If time is out of your control, it is best to just go with it.

I am flexible.  But I admit, at times it takes more effort for me to change directions.  It’s all about inertia, once I am moving down a path, it’s more difficult to halt and go in a different direction.  However, when I trust my instincts, it is nothing for me to do a u-turn right then and there, usually with gusto. It is a rush to proceed into the unknown sometimes.

I am goal driven. This is the thing that most defines me. I have to know where I am going, what my goal is,  and at the end of the day what waits for me.  I need to be prepared. It’s like having a map, although, I don’t read like maps because I get carsickness if I try reading them in a moving car. But, I do love the GPS in my car. I love it, but don’t blindly trust it.  I must know, for myself, where I am going generally before I get into the driver's seat, so when I am given directions, I know them to be somewhat correct. I've heard too many stories of people ending up in the ditch because they followed their GPS instead of using their brain.  Always question, am I on the right road. 


Life to me is about knowing what I can control, accepting what I can't control, asking questions, and trusting my instincts. These understandings have guided me as I traveled. They are important because, as we know,  life happens, whether it is according to our plan or not.  Ultimately, it is how we react and adjust to the plan that makes the journey exciting. But most importantly, don't forget to have fun and pick up people along the way, with whom you can  enjoy the scenery.  Although, just not those on the road close to the mental institute. Just saying! 


Sunday, January 5, 2014

Letter to Me (1)

Sky is the limit
I am changing it up by writing letters to myself in 2014.  This is the first letter.

January 5, 2014

Dear Angelina 2015:

Hi, every year I contemplate a New Year's resolution and I always come up with the same old list. Therefore, I've decided not to write a conventional New Year’s resolution this time around.  Instead, I elect to write you, Angelina 2015, a letter of how I see 2014 unfolding.  And throughout the year, at the end of each month, I will respond to this letter outlining how close I am to my vision and what modifications I have to make to reach these goals. What do you think, good idea, huh?

As you know Angelina 2015, the exercise in writing resolutions is moot because within a few weeks I will have forgotten my goals for the year.  Moreover, you know the goals I set will go largely unachieved and come next January you will be rewriting them knowing they are the same ones set year after year. Why do I do that? but no more, this year is going to be different because I have a plan that will focus on creating a structure to fulfill my vision.

This is how I see 2014 unfolding;

Personal (weight, health, and spirituality)
·      Achieve my optimum weight with 100% raw living food by December 31, 2014
·      I will plant a bigger organic garden
·      I will continue to research and learn
·      I will provide support to people who want to know about juicing and its benefits.
·      I will work with members of ACFN to create a health program for the community. 
·      Become more physically active by walking more and being out in nature
·      Consistent daily meditation straight for 361 days and I got an app for that (insight timer)
Household
·      Continue to envision, research, and create dream home
·      Maintain and repair all things in the house so that it always looks and feels comfortable and not influx waiting for the new house
·      Will unclutter house
·      Will host six dinner parties in 2014
Relationships (family)
·      Will no longer tell hubby what he should be doing to keep healthy.  Willing to let go of control after all it is his body!
·      Will support hubby to complete and publish unfinished books
·      Will ensure that AJJP is prepared to apply to University 2016
·      Will continue to be there for family to listen without judgement
Businesses
·      Will ensure clients see value in our work and pay the firm promptly
·      Will provide information, support, direction, and time to stakeholders of our group of companies to ensure higher profits in 2014
·      Will continue to provide direction and support to The People’s Juicery as we plan to expand by looking for investors

Sadly, last year began with the news of the sudden death of my brother Billy.  The year continued of news on health related issues with my mom, sister and a couple of nieces.  Fortunately, those health issues although not completely illuminated have been controlled.  Last year was about family, I spent the most time back in Alberta than previous years and it felt good to connect and support my brothers and sisters. 

However, this year is about business and ensuring the success of all the ventures I am involved in meet their maximum potential.  So, Angelina 2015 be prepared to see an awesome year unfold. 

Cheers,

Angelina 
[2014]

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Mama

Therese Deranger  May 08, 1919 -

She arrived into this world at Old Fort, Alberta on May 08, 1919. Her parents were Chrysostome Adam and Christine Marie (Laddi) Adam. 

She was born in a area which provided no electricity, plumbing, telephones, TV and many other amenities that we now take for granted. Even when electricity and plumbing became available in our area it was years before she would take advantage of it.

Life in those days was about survival of the fittest. She came literally from moccasins to seeing the world from the palm of your hand on an Iphone!

Born and raised in the traditional nomadic Dene lifestyle on the shores of Lake Athabasca in Saskatchewan and Alberta, to say that she did not have an easy life by today’s standards would be an understatement. But it is also a blessing in disguise, because it was those very conditions that makes her who she is, who I am, and who we are as family.

My Mama is having an amazing life journey, from bush life to city dwelling, from dogsled to the concord, from moccasin telegraph to emails and texting. When I feel sorry for myself, I say to myself, "Imagine what life was like for your Mama." That is usually enough for me to get over myself.  Especially when I go crazy if our internet goes off for a few minutes, talk about putting things into perspective!

Once, she told me that she wanted to go to school but her Dad would not allow it. Although I remember when I was a child, Mama went to school briefly, she was so thrilled that she could do some rudimentary writing, particularly when she was so proud to be writing the names of her children.

Mama missed out on being a regular teenager because she was married at the tender age of fourteen through an arranged marriage. She first met her husband when they married. She became pregnant almost immediately, and had her last child well into her forties. Earlier in her marriage she would run away back to her parents' home, but each time her dad returned her to her husband. She still resents this.

She gave birth to nineteen healthy children; the majority of her children born without the help of a doctor. During one of the pregnancies she had to walk about 10 miles to the nearest community in early spring with the ground snow-covered, so she could make it to the midwife’s home for the birth of my brother. There were no prenatal classes to help her cope with understanding the development of pregnancy and caring for babies. There were no nurses to talk about baby blues. No one to help her understand what her body was going through, no one to help her understand the emotions that comes with exhaustion after having a baby and being sleep-deprived caring for babies whilst living in a tent miles from the nearest town.

Can you imagine, there were no pampers, no baby formula and no prepared jars of baby food. Everything was home-made, and all those diapers had to be washed by hand. Fortunately, as the babies grew they became helpers in the care of the younger ones.

Mama experienced many challenges.  We were very poor. My Dad was a trapper and so he was absent for long periods, leaving her alone for extended times. As with most women in her generation, she had to cope on her own. Some people would argue that many other women of her day were in the same position, and maybe this is so, but that does not minimize the hardship she endured. Still, no matter the difficulty she was able to keep the family together. None of her decedents ended up in foster care system.

She once told me a story about how she hated the sound of the wind blowing through the house because it reminded her of a time when she was living in a tent during the early years of her marriage. It was in the fall, and she had a head cold. Throughout the night the wind was howling and she was all stuffed up. She said she was alone with some very young children at the time. Sometime during the early morning her head was aching so much, that the increase pressure in her ears eventually blew her eardrums. She remembers the warm blood pouring out of her ears. She said that ever since then, she has had problems with dizziness (she may have damaged her inner ear). Another time when one of my sisters was just two weeks old with the wind blowing the walls of the tent, my sister took ill and died a week later. How it must have been difficult for her to cope with the loss of a child when she herself was no more than a child. Later in her life she would lose five more of her children, as recently as last December she lost another son.  Indeed, the start of 2013 was a difficult time for her. Parents should never have to burry their children, it was heartbreaking to see her so over come with sadness with the loss of my brother Billy.

In her thirties she had breast cancer and had to have a partial mastectomy. Over the years she has had eleven operations. Years later, I remember one incident where she was very sick in the hospital, I was young at the time, and we all gathered in her empty bedroom in Doghead in Fort Chipewyan, Alberta and prayed for her to get well and come back home. She made it through that ordeal. I remember her telling us that she had a dream that she saw a man standing at the feet of her hospital bed, and she asked him to not take her because she still had young children. She came home from the hospital, and in her mind it was God’s will that she survived.  And not for her sake but for the sake of the children who still needed her.

There were times of difficulty involving alcohol during the sixties and seventies. I can recall bits and pieces but mainly I was oblivious to what really happened. I was too young, thankfully she gave that up, and we survived. We, her children, did okay for ourselves, being educated and becoming contributing members of society. I definitely believe we survived because of Mama, and not in spite of her. Her guidance allowed us to be strong individuals much like her.

Mama’s life is not all gloom and hardship. She enjoys life and loves to travel. Visiting with her grandchildren, and great grandchildren, and her friends, and helping others makes her happy. She especially enjoys her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren which number over a hundred now. Her passion was beading and sewing things for her family before her eyes failed her. She says that she enjoyed keeping busy.

Her Dene beaded jackets are distinctive and recognizable all over the territory. She did the most
One of the last she made
beautiful beadwork. When I was a little girl she looked at my long thread as I was beading and she said, “Don’t be lazy, make your thread shorter.” She was right of course because when your thread is shorter it does not get tangled up. It takes longer to bead, but the results are perfection.

If things were not done right, be it sewing, cleaning or anything, she also had you redo it until it was done properly. I don’t know how many hours were spent cleaning, even when the house was already clean. Her standards are high for all of us.  People nowadays don’t take enough care to do things right. Rarely do we find anyone that actually takes pride in their work.

Until a few of years ago, she enjoyed the yearly pilgrimage to Lac St. Anne, one of Canada’s largest Indigenous healing pilgrimage. She enjoyed visiting with old friends and family who also have travelled a long way from isolated communities to attend. There she always bought Holy Water, blessed statutes, and pendents like St. Christopher, which she gave away as gifts. I still have a few she has given me over the years.

When I was younger I always enjoyed the fresh bread, and bannock she baked in the summer. The wood stove was moved outside because it was too hot in the house. We would go to pick blueberries in the summer. At Christmas she made the best bread pudding I have ever tasted. I also really enjoyed the fun we had making homemade taffy in the winter.

        Mama's 92 Birthday
I honour Mama. Her gifts to me are strength, courage and reverence. When I’m worried or upset, I clean, clean, clean, I know she gave that to me too. She welcomes work, and keeps busy all the time.   But most of all, she gave me life.


Mama turns 93 and makes the local news!


May 2012
The last few years after a fall that resulted in a broken hip and shoulder she was no longer able to take care of herself,  thus sadly she lost her independence.
Liz & Mama
She had to move into an extended care facility.  I know it was difficult for her to accept that after all these years of care taking children, grandchildren, and great great grandchildren, that she was now dependent on the goodwill of family and friends for her basic needs. It is also difficult for family to see her now so dramatically different from the strong mama to an aging elder who is getting weaker daily.

However, she continues to teach us about life, living and dying. And about acceptance, forgiveness, and love.  To be in her presence is to know pure love and joy.

I could not resist adding a story told by Margo;  

"My story of Mama.  Mama grew up in a hard life and she did the best she could. Yes.  Many times I could see the stresses in her life.  With so many children how would anyone not understand her.  I only have a couple, and my God I get stressed, then I think I now fully understand mama.  I have always had a great respect for mama.

One day long ago, I took mama, my mom, and Adeline TripdeRoche to Lac St. Anne with my old car.  My car had holes on the floor, which I tried to cover with a cardboard paper.  Hight 63 was not payed yet back then.  I tell you each time I hit a bump puffs of dust would fill the car.  The ladies sat in the back seat and they all had polyester suits on.  We would stop on the way a couple of times getting out to stretch.  My goodness they all would brush the dust off their suits, all the while laughing about it.

As we were getting closer to Grassland, my mom said in Dene, "Oh, not too far now we will be stopping in this place called "Greengrass".  Mama then said in Dene "No, it's not called that, it's called "Gasline" and here is Mrs. TripdeRoche with her high pitched laugh practically rolling with laughter in the backseat. This was so hilarious.  I couldn't stop laughing too.  They were all so cute.  Mama is a very strong woman and inside mama she is very loveable, and I love her."

Thank you Margo for sharing this story!




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