Posted on September 3, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with 2 comments

A great place for hikes

 

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both,

And be one traveler, long I stood,

And looked down one as far as I could,

To where it bent in the undergrowth.

The Road Not Taken. Robert Frost

 

I have been thinking about Robert Frost a lot lately, maybe because winter (and frost) will appear in the north much sooner than the south! I was an English major in University, at least that is what I’ve been told. I took quite a few English and Political Science courses. Even though I was less than a stellar student during my university days, a few things have stayed with me all these years including the Robert Frost poem. The late Senator, John B. Stewart, one of the great minds of his era, piqued my interest in politics. I used to be a political junkie, but I’ve kicked the habit in recent years. It has always been a blood sport but it has gone way beyond that.

I was joking with family the other day, talking about my University days. Even though I can crank out 1,000 words doing one of these posts with little effort, I would be hard pressed to write an essay on anything I learned nearly fifty years ago. It might fill the back of a postage stamp. Remember when those were 2 cents? There was one standout achievement, though, if I may be so bold to say. Did I have the highest mark in English 350 taught by the witty and devilish Rev. Rod “Moonbeam” MacSween? Nope. Was I the best player on the St.F.X. football team? Wha??? “You played football, Len?” That is an epic story in itself. The biggest challenge was to find a helmet that would fit over my afro. Was I the premier writer for the university newspaper? Hardly, but I was able to accurately report the scores from various varsity sports.

No. My number one achievement, the thing that I am most proud off, was that I learned how to play bridge in the basement of the library. I can’t tell you a single thing about The Miller’s Tale from Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales but I can tell you what to bid if you’re the dealer and you have a 7 card suit in your hand. Bridge is a fantastic card game and I have met many, many wonderful people sitting around a bridge table. A few years ago, I was recruited as a spare for a weekly game. Two of the regulars were in their 90s. Their minds were still razor sharp and I often wondered if bridge was one of those things that helped keep them so mentally agile. Besides playing cards, there were lots of stories and laughter. I think laughter is highly underrated when it comes to the determinants of good health.

Robert Frost’s poem is a metaphor for life. We all arrive at junctions in our lives where we have to make a decision, whether it is a career choice, choosing a life partner or choosing apple pie or blueberry at a restaurant. When we reflect on our lives, we often wonder if we had taken a different path, where life may have taken us.

Man, you might think that I took a lot of philosophy courses at University. Wrong. Categorically wrong. I took a grand total of one and that was because it was mandatory in my Education year.

Back to Frost.

Last weekend, I went walking with a friend and work colleague. Initially, I thought that there were only a few roads in and around our village, but I have discovered that there are many. In the dead of winter, it’s harder to tell as the landscape is buried under snow and ice. We were walking along the road to Akulavik when we saw a road veering off to our left. My friend asked if I was up to exploring this, as yet untraveled road. For the next four hours, we climbed mountains, crossed streams and tip toed through bogs. There were fields awash in blueberries and several swaths of multi -colored flowers. It was magical.

We also came upon two sets of caribou antlers and took photos of ourselves holding the antlers in front of our faces. Of course, upon review of the photos, we had a great laugh. There’s that laughter thing again. On our return route in the early afternoon, we noticed many hunters coming in our direction on their 4-wheelers. We wondered if, back in the village, they had looked at infrared images of the tundra and saw two racks of antlers!

Later that same day, I invited some friends over for caribou stew. You might remember that two weeks ago, a local man had generously given me several cuts of caribou including stewing meat. The stew was passable for a first effort. However, I noticed a few of my guests pawing at the ground afterward! Is that normal behaviour?

My guests were all work colleagues, some of them just out of quarantine. We sat around after dinner and shared Covid stories from our respective communities. We had people from B.C., Saskatchewan, Quebec and Nova Scotia, a pretty good cross section of Canada. By the way, B.C.’s Provincial Health officer has received such notoriety that they are thinking of renaming the province, B.H.C. – Bonnie Henry Country.

Like everywhere else in the country, we are getting set to return to school in the next week or so. On Monday, we were allowed back in the school for the first time after the school underwent a major face lift. It’s hard to wrap my head around our instructions for day one. We had to bring buckets and rags, wear masks and use hand sanitizer. Who would have ever imagined that this would be the list of back to school supplies!

“I shall be telling this with a sigh,

Somewhere age and ages hence,

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Have a great weekend.

P.S. Last weekend, I had the privilege of accompanying a colleague for a hike over a mountain and into a massive valley with a river running through it. Her husband died suddenly on the tundra four years ago and she wanted to go back to where it happened, the first time she had gone since his passing. It was a glorious day. When we reached the river, we stopped for lunch. We sat on large rocks dotting the middle of the river. Her husband walked along this same river many times on hunting expeditions. We talked but we also listened in silence to the gurgling of the water as it made its way to the bay. On our return trip, we sat on the side of the mountain picking blueberries and staring at the magnificent landscape.

The land has a way of healing.

Have a great weekend.

 

Posted on August 31, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

Government of Canada photo

 

Ok. I have a lot on my mind but before I head down three trails at once, let me start with some more information about the north as part of my (and your) ongoing education.

A few weeks ago, two people in the community shot caribous which, would not be considered “breaking news”. As I have mentioned in this space more than once, hunting is a way of life for the Inuit. It provides food for families and is shared with others in the community. I was the beneficiary of one of the hunter’s generosity receiving several pieces of fresh meat.

One of the hunters posted something that I found very interesting and instructive. She paid homage to the caribou and thanked it for giving its life in order to provide sustenance for her family.

We take food for granted in the south. I don’t think many of us who shop at large supermarkets ever stop in the meat section and thank a chicken or a cow for giving up their lives. Let’s not even go there and start a conversation about our food chain and where our food comes from.

It’s probably not much different back home when someone shoots a deer far out in the woods. I suspect that many hunters process their kill on the spot, as is the custom up here. No. not everyone back home does this. There is still this bizarre practice of strapping a deer to the hood of a truck and parking it at a local watering hole so that passersby can ooh and aah and marvel at the number of points on the antlers.

I mention these things because last week was “knife day” for indigenous people. Shown in the picture above (from the Government of Canada website), is an ulu. In Inuktitut, ulu means “woman’s knife”. These crescent shaped knives are tools used by Inuit women. They use these unique knives to harvest and skin animals as a source of food and clothing for their families. Men use different kinds of knives for hunting and fishing. Many women use the same ulu their whole life. Engravings on the handle have specific meaning to the woman’s personal and cultural identity. According to Inuit rights activist Sheila Watt-Cloutier, when an Inuk woman dies, her ulu retains her energy making ulus powerful spiritual objects. (source: The Canadian Encyclopedia). I had the honor at last year’s staff Christmas party to sit with a group of Inuit women and sample country food. I had the opportunity to carve a piece of raw meat with an ulu.

The Inuit have such profound respect for the land and the animals that have sustained them for centuries.

There is so much to learn. Someone I met last year sent me a very interesting quote. While I have been hired to teach, I am here to learn. She said, “When the student is ready, the teacher appears.” I love this. Thanks NC.

I’m getting the impression that many of you are fascinated with the north and are enjoying my posts. Some of you have even threatened to visit me. Of course, in a Covid world this is not possible, but you all know that the north is not all about beautiful sunsets, pristine air and water (both in abundance, by the way) and soaking up the culture. In other words, it’s not all ‘peaches and cream’. The challenges in the north are well documented but when you are a guest of the Inuit, you do get to appreciate the north in a powerful way. For every breathtaking sunrise, there are other things that happen that cause one dismay. Life tends to be that way for most of us.

I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything… even when it’s -53!

Last thoughts.

One reader admitted (privately!) that she has read most if not all 1,140 of my posts. I won’t mention her by name to avoid public shaming for her lack of judgment. She did make an interesting observation. She said “It’s like going to all these places and it hasn’t cost (me) a cent.”

Another friend admitted that my last post about ‘belonging’ brought a tear to her eye. I didn’t realize that I wrote so poorly!

Summer camps ended last Friday. I had an awesome time attending the camps reading books and singing songs. On the second last day, after I finished doing my thing, I turned to put my guitar back in its case. Before I could react, this little boy of about the age of 8, came up and put his arms around me and gave me the biggest hug. I almost lost it. Hugs are verboten during Covid but he caught me completely off guard. I must be getting old when something so simple can touch me so deeply.

Some things, the best things, are free and absolutely priceless. I will never forget this moment.

Have a great week.

 

 

Posted on August 27, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with one comment

Nourishment for body and soul

 

What does it mean to belong?

There are a handful of you (you know who you are!) who have read just about every one of my 1,140 posts over the past nine years. First of all, let me extend my condolences to you for putting up with me all these years. Some of you may not know this (or care) but when I first discovered that I enjoyed writing, my stories were exclusively humour. I wrote a regular column for three newspapers. One of these papers was owned by our largest provincial paper and many of my stories were shared throughout the province. And what, pray tell, is your point, Len?

I would say that over 90% of the stories that I’ve written have been purely for entertainment. There are lots of places one can go to load up on bad news and negativity. You won’t find much of this on my website. Every once in a while, I’ll drift into something more serious, even controversial but that’s a rarity.

“Where is he going with this?” I’m sure you’re wondering.

When I came up north last November, I came to teach. That was in my contract, but I also came to learn. I am a big fan of lifelong learning.

Most of you will never get to see Canada’s north. It is expensive to travel up here and for many of you, spending quality time in a place where temperatures can drop to -55, is not your idea of a cool time. Well, I have a hot tip for you. You can learn about the north vicariously from the comfort of your living room. A few simple clicks on your favorite electronic devices and you get to hang out with me. I’m sure that that sounds like penance to some of you.

I’m not about to lose my sense of humor and go all serious on you but I do plan to continue to share what I’m learning, as I am experiencing it. Many of my future posts will be to inform and educate.

What constitutes an extraordinary day for you? It could be getting a promotion and a raise at work. You might have just retired or sold your house. You may have experienced the unmitigated joy of the birth of your first grandchild. You may have received roses from a secret admirer. A special day means something different to everyone.

Monday was one of those days for me.

Can someone describe what it feels like to belong? It’s really hard to put into words but I’m going to try.

I have lived in small communities before. My first real taste of belonging came in the North Peace Alberta town of Fairview. This is a farming community and a large part of the population are people who trace their roots to Germany and the Ukraine. I certainly felt like an outsider there during my first year of teaching but when I returned for year two, I detected a subtle shift in attitude by the locals. I had paid some dues and I had returned. I learned how to operate some of the farming equipment and sang in the church choir. More importantly, in a community where hockey is king, playing for the Fairview Elks Senior hockey team was the clincher.

I came to Kangiqsujuaq last November. As I have stated, ad nauseum in this space before, I was far too overwhelmed to have any sense of community. My reintroduction to teaching consumed every waking hour of my days and infiltrated my sleep at night. I didn’t get involved in the community. I wasn’t worrying about being accepted. I was more focused on surviving the next day at school. Survival is an important life skill.

Covid entered our lives in March. I went home. I self-isolated. I walked and hiked daily with my son. I wrote a new book. On August 1^st, I returned to Kangisqsujuaq and quarantined for a second time. I emerged from my cocoon on the 15^th. In a very short period of time, things felt different. Yes, an 80- degree difference in temperature from the dead of winter to mid -summer will do that to a person! From my first trip to the Coop for groceries, I felt welcome. I was greeted by the cashiers like I was a long- lost friend. I was repeatedly stopped in the aisles by people who thanked me for coming back. Every day, walking to and from my apartment, young children shouted “Hi Len”.

“You’re drifting, Len. What in the hell happened on Monday to set you off on this wild tangent?”

In rapid succession on Monday, it seemed like everything clicked. It was a series of “aha” moments, something like you might have felt when you finally discovered how to ride a two -wheel bicycle without tipping over. I received my first invitation to go hunting. This is a big deal. This is an honor. People don’t hunt for sport up here. It is a way of life. “Country food” is every bit as important to the Inuit as oxygen.

After a very busy and productive day (I’ll spare you the boring details) and a beautiful, albeit very chilly evening walk, I was stopped just outside my apartment and given a serving of vegetarian chili. A few minutes later, my next door neighbor produced two fresh, warm blueberry banana muffins. The berries were picked across the street on the tundra, just a few paces from my front door.

I was barely in the door when I heard a knock. A local man was holding a bag filled with several different cuts of caribou that his son had shot on the weekend. He described each piece of meat. He gave me cooking tips for the roast and the stewing meat. He promised that I would be receiving arctic char in the not too distant future.

This, my friends, it what it feels like to belong in the north. It is easy to describe but an indescribable feeling.

Have a great week.

P.S. I’ll let you know how my caribou roast turns out!