Featured Blog Posts - Kamazooie2024-03-29T07:32:58Zhttp://www.kamazooie.com/profiles/blog/feed?promoted=1&xn_auth=noJoseph Boyden and other Identify Crisestag:www.kamazooie.com,2019-04-22:6471104:BlogPost:1101552019-04-22T13:00:00.000ZBrian Ritchiehttp://www.kamazooie.com/profile/09fcc95vgwc3d
<p>It has been a couple of years since <a href="https://aptnnews.ca/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">APTN</a> broke a <a href="https://aptnnews.ca/2016/12/23/author-joseph-boydens-shape-shifting-indigenous-identity/">controversial story</a> of their investigation into Joseph Boyden’s indigenous roots or the lack thereof. While the dust has largely settled on Mr. Boyden’s claim to shame, the issue of identity for mixed indigenous people is personally challenging one for many of us.…</p>
<p></p>
<p>It has been a couple of years since <a href="https://aptnnews.ca/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">APTN</a> broke a <a href="https://aptnnews.ca/2016/12/23/author-joseph-boydens-shape-shifting-indigenous-identity/">controversial story</a> of their investigation into Joseph Boyden’s indigenous roots or the lack thereof. While the dust has largely settled on Mr. Boyden’s claim to shame, the issue of identity for mixed indigenous people is personally challenging one for many of us.</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2115567618?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2115567618?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 8pt;">June 7, 2014 in Saint Malo, France. — Photo by Ulf Andersen/Getty Images</span></p>
<p>The sad thing regarding Joseph Boyden is that I believe he did a lot for educating the broader public on what it means, or meant, to lead an indigenous life both in modern times as in “Through Black Spruce” or during colonization as in “The Orenda”.</p>
<p>Truth be told, while I am of Indigenous decent, the son of a Swampy Cree and a mixed marriage to a first-generation Italian woman conceived in Italy and born in Fort William, I don’t know much about what life was like for my native ancestors 300 years ago. Reading <em>The Orenda</em> gave me, perhaps, a fair appreciation for what life may have been like around the time of first contact. I would love to say that I have a good idea about that already because such stories had been passed down through the generations by the elders in our community; but the truth is, we had a little trouble keeping a cohesive story-telling heritage as our people struggled through the 1800s and 1900s.</p>
<p>The point of this article is not to complain about that; I try not to be a complainer – I like to spend my time thinking about what I want to do, and what I have to do to achieve that. Or, as my son’s Grade 9 science teacher, Mr. Nouh, said once about our son’s lack-lustre mid-term grade, “So what are you going to do about it?”</p>
<p>The point of this post is to bring to light the identity crisis that many of the Indigenous people have struggled with for generations as a result of colonization, assimilation, enfranchisement and now reconciliation. Our grandfather Allan Ritchie, on the Cree side of my heritage was somehow the offspring of a productive family. Whether Allan’s sense of being a productive member of society stemmed from my great grandfather’s (Walter Ritchie) western view of being paid for a hard day’s work or the indigenous understanding that if you aren’t productive in the wilderness, you freeze or starve to death, is difficult to piece together at this point. I would like to think that the combination of the long-standing European concept of being a contributor to society and a provider for your family, and indigenous natural laws of community responsibility and tribal preservation supported one another. This possibly created the interesting blend of work-ethic that allowed the Ritchie family to find their way in those early days of the 1900s. I don’t mean in any way to say that this situation was exclusive to our family; there are many mixed indigenous families like ours that successfully navigated the waters in colonized Canada. Hmm.. are you successful if you lose your culture along the way?</p>
<p>Regardless, Walter and his son Allan and many other families of the Moosonee/Moose Factory Cree Nation made there way south to the Chapleau region where the CPR railway provided employment opportunity and the trapping grounds were more fertile than what was becoming a very competitive trapping situation in the James Bay area. While Walter ended up in ‘commerce’ as a fur broker between the Chapleau trappers and the Hudson’s Bay Company, his son Allan became a pioneer in early-day telecom after completing a telegraphy course and becoming an operator for the CPR.</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2115596635?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2115596635?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 8pt;">Allan Ritchie’s Telegraphy Certificate — June 16, 1914</span></p>
<p>That’s not to say that Allan abandoned his heritage; he was a proud ‘Indian’ who often paraded with his friends in buckskins and a headdress in the Chapleau Winter Carnival and Canada Day parades. He however, earned his living as a professional while keeping his heritage as an indigenous person alive through traditions such as hunting, trapping and fishing to name a few.</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2115597958?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2115597958?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 8pt;">Chapleau July 1st Parade — 1950</span></p>
<p>To make matters more confusing, our father, William Ritchie, began his career as an electrician with Chapleau Hydro and later the CPR ‘Shops” but afterwards, left the CPR to begin a hunting and fishing business. While being a tourist outfitter was a means of income for him, it was much more than that; he was a gifted and natural story-teller and an extremely skilled bushman which all fit well with the guiding vocation that he eventually chose. One could argue, this was his way for him to educate his sons and those non-aboriginal people with whom he interacted. He truly was proud of the mentoring role in his guiding business.</p>
<p>Both in and away from the family business, he naturally taught us how to hunt, fish and guide and prepare wild game and fish for our family dinner table. In addition, he taught us, and our family friends, a deep respect for the wilderness and the animals that lived within it. Perhaps most importantly, he taught us the value of a good day’s work; we knew how to have a good time, but we also knew that work came first, and play came later.</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2115601509?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2115601509?profile=RESIZE_710x" width="450" class="align-center"/></a></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 8pt;">Brian Ritchie, heading to Hudson’s Bay Trading Post, Foleyet</span></p>
<p>Oh yeah, and by the way, my dad was encouraged by the Indian Agent to give up his status card under something called <a href="https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/enfranchisement">Enfranchisement</a> in the late 1940s as a way to make a few bucks, disassociate himself from indigenous people and join the Dominion of Canada. Enfranchisement was a propaganda program that was pitched in a continuing effort <a href="https://fncaringsociety.com/sites/default/files/duncan_campbell_scott_information_sheet_final.pdf">“to get rid of the “Indian problem”</a> as Duncan Campbell Scott would say. Of course, we would all now wonder “who would give up their status and abandon their heritage?”, albeit in a limited way as he was always an Indian at heart, and proud of it.</p>
<p>At the time though, being an ‘Indian’ was not a cool thing. We were a much more troubled people than we are now. Families were ripped apart as kids were taken to residential schools, employment was hard to come by if you had an Indian name and/or if you had the reddish skin colour associated with the indigenous people. Alcohol abuse was rampant because of the loss of identity, purpose and traditional livelihood. Who would NOT want to disassociate from Indigenous people in those days? It was just not a great time to be an Indian. </p>
<p>So now comes the issue of my own identity crisis. Is it at all a mystery why many of us have limited stories of our heritage and culture? Is it my grandparents or parents, or even my own fault that I no longer speak the Cree language or have rich stories and teachings that were passed on for generations? I guess Mr. Nouh would say it IS my fault and I would not disagree with him; there are good sources for regaining our heritage and I will be spending more time on with that once I have finished a few other projects ;-)</p>
<p>However, it’s not as simple as saying that a lot of my ancestors let me down in not preserving our Cree culture. The insert below is an infamous letter written by the Deputy Superintendent of Indian Affairs in 1921 to the law enforcers of the day forbidding our people from their traditional customs and celebrations even on their Reserves.</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2115630195?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"></a><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2115630195?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2115630195?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-full"/></a><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2115630195?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"></a></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 8pt;">Notice by Indian Affairs Deputy — Dec. 15, 1921</span></p>
<p>I’m not posting this to complain and belly-ache about the past; I include it to allow readers to understand how systematic the exercise of cultural eradication was at that time. What does that do to someone, like my Grandfather or my Father when they attempted to make their way in a new home like Chapleau Ontario. Oh, but then, my Grandfather used to parade in buckskins and a headdress in the town carnivals; we are a resilient people I guess.</p>
<p>So now comes along the 2015 Truth and Reconciliation report and an apology from Prime Minister Harper for the Residential School system and recent apology from Prime Minister Trudeau for the treatment Inuit People by Canada (and the refusal of an apology from the Catholic Church).</p>
<p>Here I am, a half-native man educated in the white-man’s world but also a decent trapper, hunter, fisherman and overall woodsman; I am a settler and an Indigenous person in one. Should I be celebrated or questioned for trying to regain the Cree part of my heritage. I’m also a decent wine-maker and I can serve up some fine Italian fare from my mother’s Italian teachings. As an aside, an interesting fusion in that regard, is Moose Risotto and Rappini (and red wine of course), which in my opinion, combines the best culinary tastes from both sides of my heritage.</p>
<p><a href="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2128830355?profile=original" target="_blank" rel="noopener"><img src="https://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2128830355?profile=RESIZE_710x" class="align-center"/></a></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 8pt;">Indigenous — Italian Fusion — The best of both worlds!</span></p>
<p>Does being half Indigenous and half Italian this make me less entitled to try to regain my Indigenous heritage? Would anyone, including myself, question me if I was to practice the Italian language or explore some age-old Italian recipes? I don’t believe they (I) would. However, as I work at becoming more indigenous, I can’t help but feel that I must justify my native heritage and my Treaty rights for that matter.</p>
<p>What I do know, in the wisdom of the great science teacher Mr. Nouh, its up to me to do something about that. Over the last few years, I’ve become more and more involved in my Chapleau Cree Community. With the help and invitation of Chief Cachagee and later Chief Corston, both of whom I have tremendous respect for in their own journeys to regain their culture and support our community, I have had the good fortune of being invited to assist our First Nation with several projects. This work has allowed me to relate more with our community members and learn more of our culture and traditions. I am immensely thankful for this opportunity.</p>
<p>As a technology and business person in the white-man’s world for over 25 years, I have something to offer in terms of the financial side of achieving sustainability and self-governance so it is there that I have focused my efforts over the last few years. In the future, I look to do more about helping our youth, especially in remote communities, with opportunities so that they are not mired in despair and lacking in hope. This is not a short-term problem in either its creation or its solution; the situation is dire in some areas but the achieving real and sustainable change will be a long journey.</p>
<p>Similarly, I have a long way to go on my own journey of reclaiming my native culture. As mentioned earlier, a goal will also be learning the language of my Father’s people. Learning the language of my Mother’s people is also a goal. I think fluency in English and proficiency in Cree and Italian would be an excellent milestone. For now, ciao and meegwetch!</p>
<p>P.S. For another set of views that touches on indigenous identity, and that reviews the same issue discussed in paper written over 100 years ago, you can read Jonathan Kay’s article at <a href="https://thewalrus.ca/why-is-joseph-boydens-indigenous-identity-being-questioned/?gclid=EAIaIQobChMI2t_qwYeq4QIVBlSGCh2JgglAEAAYASAAEgKPNfD_BwE">this link</a>. The August 2017 <a href="https://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/books-and-media/joseph-boyden/article35881215/">Globe and Mail article</a> by Eric Andrew-Gee also offers some good insight into Boyden and the broader question of indigenous heritage.</p>AI and ML - Practicing the 'Dark Arts'tag:www.kamazooie.com,2017-05-31:6471104:BlogPost:662392017-05-31T16:30:00.000ZBrian Ritchiehttp://www.kamazooie.com/profile/09fcc95vgwc3d
<p>With headlines like “<a href="http://www.express.co.uk/news/science/733033/artificial-intelligence-driverless-car-ai">This is how AI ROBOTS will take over the world</a>” and “<a href="http://www.cnbc.com/2017/04/27/kai-fu-lee-robots-will-replace-half-of-all-jobs.html">AI Will take Half our Jobs</a>” we are definitely entering an interesting time in out technological evolution. Even brilliant scientists like Steven Hawking and business leaders like Elon Musk have put out dire warnings about…</p>
<p>With headlines like “<a href="http://www.express.co.uk/news/science/733033/artificial-intelligence-driverless-car-ai">This is how AI ROBOTS will take over the world</a>” and “<a href="http://www.cnbc.com/2017/04/27/kai-fu-lee-robots-will-replace-half-of-all-jobs.html">AI Will take Half our Jobs</a>” we are definitely entering an interesting time in out technological evolution. Even brilliant scientists like Steven Hawking and business leaders like Elon Musk have put out dire warnings about the dangers of AI on society.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808425926?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808425926?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p>It is more than a bit concerning, especially if your new career is focused on developing and promoting these technological capabilities.</p>
<p>There are definite ethical and perhaps even societal safety considerations regarding the advancement of Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning (AI and ML). Forty years ago, these concepts were nothing more than good Sci-Fi movie fodder while now, we carry smart phones in our pockets more powerful than computers of a decade ago that have direct access to cloud-based AI capabilities provided by Google, Siri and a host of other service and app providers. With so much investment and activity in the space, and so many ethical questions, why would someone plan a venture in AI and ML and how can this is a good thing for society going forward? This post is an attempt to address these questions.</p>
<p><b>Then Genie is Out of the Bottle</b></p>
<p>Perhaps this isn’t adequately sufficient scientific rationale but it is a fact in my opinion. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the path towards intelligent and semi-intelligent applications, appliances and services is already a very significant work-in-progress. There is not a computer science program Canada, the US or perhaps the world, that has not integrated AI and ML into its programming. There is virtually no option to turn back time (there’s another project ;-) and stop the advancement of AI and ML. Because of this, some organizations have sprung up, such as the <a href="https://intelligence.org/team/">Machine Intelligence Research Institute</a>, and <a href="https://openai.com/">Open AI</a> that are making it their mission to ensure that AI and ML will have a safe and positive effect on society. So, if there were good and ethical options to consider in the realm of AI development, that might be an area to focus on. For me and my partners, it then became a question of "Do we let this happen around us, or do we get involved in doing it in a positive way?".</p>
<p><b>The Quest for a Humanistic AI Platform</b></p>
<p>It has been recognized in academic and enterprise arenas, that to gain the best outcomes from AI technology, it would be ideal if the technology was able to have some inherent ‘understanding’ the human condition or experience. Like all beings in nature, we are complex analog organisms that have evolved over millions of years. Our languages are complex and powerful and able to convey the emotional and instinctive tendencies that underpin our consciousness. With that in mind, how can machines that process in 1s and ‘0s become our guides, service providers or coaches? The answer to this question, at Kamazooie at least, is that we must develop a processing capability that combines a data architecture for storing information logic with a cognitive analysis method and capability that ties into the human experience. Several years ago, the founders of Kamazooie developed just such a concept. Over the last few years we have been able to confirm this innovation in a <a href="http://brevets-patents.ic.gc.ca/opic-cipo/cpd/eng/patent/2903889/summary.html?query=*&start=101&num=50&type=" target="_blank">patent</a> for a <i>values-based AI platform</i> that we call Designed Emotional Intelligence™ or Kama-DEI. Our unique platform comprises a knowledge-base and a rating-value pair capability that can rate knowledge relationships based on the importance to humans vis-a-vis, human values.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808426495?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808426495?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p>With such a platform, a more humanistic interaction can be enabled between machines and people. For example, what would happen if you told Google or Siri “My house burned down.” Try it, not a lot happens; Siri asks ‘What is your address?’ and Google gives you a listing of advertisements and articles about people whose homes have burned down. Kama-DEI will recognize that your home is one of your most prized and important possessions that connects to your values of safety, security, shelter, family, wealth et cetera. This is the nature of our language and our experience; one small statement can imply so much meaning, tying into so many of the things we value. The Kama-DEI knowledge-base and value-rating scheme allows all of these implications and values to be modeled and acted upon in priority order. So, to be quite honest, once we had come upon this design, the rest became a foregone conclusion; this model and technology concept HAD to see the light of day; it could not be put on the shelf. More importantly, with human values being at the heart of our design for an AI platform, it seemed intuitive that we could provide the potential for the AI applications to have a sense of ‘morals’. This would have enormous potential to improve the user experience of humans interacting with AI and, we hope, it will lessen the chances of Kama-DEI taking over the world as it were.</p>
<p><b>AI working for (and not against) us</b></p>
<p>The World Economic Forum recently posted a great <a href="https://www.weforum.org/agenda/2017/01/ai-development-will-affect-billions-of-lives-its-time-to-embrace-its-human-side/">article</a> with research about whether we would like humans or AI to do various things for us. For example, ‘Would you want your son or daughter to fight for your country and freedom or would you want AI and robots to fight for you?’. That article, like this one, states that there IS a revolution underway but it is not a revolution of robots against humans, it is a revolution enabled by new technology, not indifferent from the cotton mill, the steam engine, the manufacturing line or the Internet. This technological revolution has the potential to assist mankind in so many ways but it also brings with it moral dilemmas enterprises attempt to capitalize on the opportunity and governments try to regulate it to ensure it delivers net-positive benefits to society. With the Genie half-way out of the bottle, it is clear that this dilemma will be facing us for the next 2 or more decades and it seems fairly clear that the world will look significantly different 2 or more decades from now as a result.</p>
<p><b>What will happen when all the jobs are gone?</b></p>
<p>Last week, while <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QM8l623AouM">addressing the 2017 graduating class at Harvard University</a>, Mark Zuckerberg commented on many things but one of them was the concept of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basic_income">Universal Basic Income</a>. In Ontario/Canada and in other countries, there are pilots active whereby participants in the program will get a small guaranteed income, not unlike social assistance or employment insurance paid when you become laid-off; but this income is not temporary like those social nets.</p>
<p><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4VwElW7SbLA?wmode=opaque" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</p>
<p>This is a controversial topic; the concept is seen by some as expensive and rewarding complacency or laziness. Mark Zuckerberg associated the concept of basic income to giving young entrepreneurs ‘the freedom to fail’ and he believes that this concept will create a new era of services, applications and inventions that will be invaluable to society. He went further than that and said that successful people like him, who have had the benefit of building or working for a good company in a good job would have to pay for those who do not have that opportunity. Another concept for the funding of basic income is that the companies that embrace the technology and use it to save operating costs should be taxed higher based on the automation savings but of course this is also controversial in a laissez-faire market environment. Regardless, it does seem logical that there will eventually be too few traditional jobs to go around and society can benefit from new social support system where entrepreneurs, artists and artisans have some guaranteed but minimal income to allow them to develop their interests.</p>
<p><b>A Renaissance of the Arts</b></p>
<p>I too believe that basic income will be an essential component of the <i>new social contract</i>, as Zuckerberg put it. As indicated in much of the current research, AI is on-track to replace moderately-skilled, repetitive jobs such as call-centre agents, of which there are many. Therefore, even highly motivated people will have more and more difficulty finding jobs. I believe that in addition to promoting entrepreneurship and new products and services, basic income will also allow people to pursue more artistic passions.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808426897?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808426897?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p>If jobs will be lost to robots and AI, it will only heighten the interest in manually and naturally produced crafts, clothing and other works of art by artists, musicians, writers and artisans. I foresee that as AI proliferates, the value and novelty of hand-made crafts and human-originated content will also increase to provide a ever-burgeoning cottage (or condo) industry. We already have excellent platforms such as Etsy, eBay and Kijii that allow us to market our wares to a global market and basic income can provide the social cushion for artists and artisans to hone their crafts and turn hobbies into real independent businesses that they are passionate about.</p>
<p><b>Getting out in front of it</b></p>
<p>While I do believe that the net effect of AI will be a decreasing amount of moderately skilled positions in some areas of employment, I believe that this era will deliver fantastic opportunities for high-tech workers and even students in social arts and science, such as linguistics, psychology and philosophy, to be at the forefront of this new and exciting technological revolution. While simple and very focused learning technologies and applications are appearing, we are a long-long way from sophisticated or sentient machines that can train themselves up to and beyond the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Technological_singularity" target="_blank">singularity</a>. But to participate in this rapidly emerging field, it will take a concerted effort. It was extremely refreshing to see Canadian universities, Ontario, Canada and the enterprise community come together to fund and establish the <a href="http://vectorinstitute.ai/">Vector Institute</a> for Artificial Intelligence in the heart of downtown Toronto.</p>
<p><a href="https://www.utoronto.ca/news/toronto-s-vector-institute-officially-launched" target="_blank"><img width="750" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808427113?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p>This amazing initiative, led by Google Fellow Geoffrey Hinton (above), will create a meeting and breeding ground for the public and private sectors to collaborate on the next generation of AI and ML. With the lure and attraction of high-tech opportunities in the San Francisco Silicon Valley area, this is exactly what Canada needs to stem the brain-drain and create an ecosystem of focused collaboration on artificial intelligence in our own country. </p>
<p><b>The glass is more than half-full</b></p>
<p>So, I for one, don’t believe that the era of AI and ML is going to have a net-negative impact on our society. I see so much potential for conversational agents to assist with our education, pastimes, social well-being and our career development and I find these possibilities very, very exciting. Of course with every advancement, there is the possibility for negative outcomes but we can’t let fear of this stand in our way of achieving the benefits that this new era will provide. I do subscribe to the notion of socially responsible advancement in AI and I do believe that with our values-based technology, we have the potential to provide an AI platform that can be a helpful and cognitive ‘friend’ to its user community as opposed to a semi-conscious over-lord that threatens to take over the world as we know it. Well here’s hoping anyway! :-)</p>Touched by an Aboriginaltag:www.kamazooie.com,2016-09-29:6471104:BlogPost:645212016-09-29T23:00:00.000ZBrian Ritchiehttp://www.kamazooie.com/profile/09fcc95vgwc3d
<p>A couple of weekends ago, I posted this picture on Facebook with the caption “Kaitlin gets her 14 foot canoe”. I thought that post warranted a bit of an explanation so this is that post.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429994?profile=original" target="_self"><img class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808430959?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"></img></a> This story starts in the late summer in 1986. Even though Loreen was 8 months pregnant, we decided to take a family trip with my Mom and Dad and Loreen’s mom Jackie. We visited and…</p>
<p>A couple of weekends ago, I posted this picture on Facebook with the caption “Kaitlin gets her 14 foot canoe”. I thought that post warranted a bit of an explanation so this is that post.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429994?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808430959?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a>This story starts in the late summer in 1986. Even though Loreen was 8 months pregnant, we decided to take a family trip with my Mom and Dad and Loreen’s mom Jackie. We visited and Mackinaw Island and I remember my Dad embarrassing my Mom on the balcony of the Grand Hotel on Mackinaw Island replaying a famous scene by Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour from the movie “Somewhere in Time” which was actually one of my favorite time-travel movies.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808431359?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="562" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808431359?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a>We ended out trip back in the Sault to spend a couple of more days there before my parents and Jackie drove back to Chapleau. This picture below was taken in the dining room of first home that we owned in the Sault on Paladin Avenue. Of course, I would give anything to have another dinner like that but that is not the way our world works.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808431286?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808431286?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a>Near the middle of October, 1986, shortly after what would be my Dad’s last moose hunt, he had a fairly debilitating stroke as a result of heart disease that he actually had for most of his life; he had a heart murmur that eventually caused issues later. Thankfully, after his first heart attack in 1983, our family realized that our time together was likely limited so we focused on getting together as often as we could.</p>
<p>Later in the Fall of ’86, I passed on our family moose hunt since Loreen was due to have our first child who would become Kaitlin. I was fortunate that my Dad was sent from the Chapleau Hospital to Sault Ste. Marie and my Mom also came to stay with us and we saw him every day for the next 2 weeks.</p>
<p>About a week after he came to the Sault, Loreen went into labour and we checked into the General Hospital and a day later, Kaitlin came into this world, through a doorway in the eastern sky, the natives would say. </p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808431906?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808431906?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a>My Dad was in the Plummer Hospital right next door to the General and so for a few days, I was shuffling back and forth between to the two to see my Dad and Mom who was with him non-stop through those two weeks.</p>
<p>After few days, Kaitlin and Loreen were released from the hospital and we decided it would be great to introduce Dad to his newest Granddaughter. It was a good day for him that day and he was sitting up in a chair in his room when we came in. He was still a little stressed from his stroke but he knew all of us and had his memories and wits about him. After a few moments of explaining that we had just had our first baby and we had called her Kaitlin, Dad motioned with his good arm that he would like to hold Kaitlin. Being new parents, I have to admit that we were a bit nervous but we placed her on his lap and he held her the best he could. He didn’t say a ton because he was still having some communication problems but he did say a few words, some of which I have long since forgotten I guess. What we all do remember was that he finally patted her tiny (and very hairy) head and said <em>“She will be a good one, she will be able to carry a 14 foot canoe”</em>.</p>
<p>As a side bar, my dad was not a status native at the time; he had ‘sold’ his status to the government during something called <a href="http://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/enfranchisement/" target="_blank">Enfranchisement</a> where natives were 'enfranchised' into Canadian society giving up their treaty rights but gaining the rights of Canadian citizens. You might now think that my Dad, and others, were fools to give up their native heritage but you must understand the environment of that time. Because of the societal issues regarding First Nations peoples at the time, it seemed best to distance one’s self from these issues and that was what he chose to do. Shortly before his passing, <a href="http://www.parl.gc.ca/HousePublications/Publication.aspx?DocId=6495200" target="_blank">Bill C-31</a> quietly reversed the impact of Enfranchisement and later, my 3 brothers and I received our First Nation status and became members of Chapleau Cree First Nation which was the nation founded by our great grandparents Walter and Mary Ritchie and Isaiah Sailors and his wife Mary (McCleod).</p>
<p>As for the story of Kaitlin and my Dad’s one and only meeting, and the story of the 14 foot canoe, of course it became a family favorite and we never let Kaitlin or anyone else forget it. No one can say for sure why Kaitlin eventually chose Native Studies as a focus in her post secondary education but I believe it definitely had something to do with her short visit with her Grandpa.</p>
<p>So fast forward about 25 years and Kaitlin and her law-school-study-mate, and now her roommate, Kate decided they would rent a canoe and take a paddle in Algonquin Park. Kaitlin was driving a Jeep Liberty then and the rental guy fixed them up with some roof-racks and tied the canoe on and they were on their way. When they got to the lake, knowing the story and having this opportunity, Kaitlin had to see if she could actually carry the canoe as her Grandpa had predicted, and of course she did with no problem at all.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808433426?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808433426?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a>So fast forward another 5 years to September 17, 2016, and Chapleau Cree was holding its community celebration of the Treaty Land Entitlement (TLE) settlement with Canada and Ontario. It was a great event with a piping and drumming and singing ceremony in the Turtle Lodge followed by more celebration in the hall of the Band office. There were speeches from all parties recognizing the 8 years of work and negotiations that went into concluding the entitlement that was prescribed in the 1906 James Bay Treaty signed by Chapleau Cree and many other First Nations. There was also a special recognition given to Doreen Cachagee for the work that her and her family did in securing the land and organizing the development for the Fox Lake Reserve.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429994?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429994?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a></p>
<p>Kaitlin did think that she may get called up to say a few words representing her law firm <a href="http://www.oktlaw.com/" target="_blank">OKT</a> that has worked the file from the beginning. Kaitlin herself was on the file for 5 years starting there during the summers between her years at law school. What Kaitlin, or any of us, DID NOT expect, is that she would get a special gift from CCFN and the TLE Committee for her work on the project. It was a beautiful tapestry depicting a canoe and Chief Keeter Corston mentioned that it is meant to signify the journey that Katilin and the whole TLE committee has traveled over many years. Of course, to Kaitlin and to us sitting in the audience, it also had a deeper meaning of the journey that began with a pat on the head and a few words spoken by her native Grandfather 30 years earlier. I have always thought that it was more than just a coincidence that as she was entering through the door in the eastern sky, my Father was leaving through the one in the west and this is how the native people have seen life forever. Everything is circular; nothing ends without something else beginning like Summer, through Fall, into the coldness and darkness of Winter only to begin new life again with the coming of Spring.</p>
<p>I don’t remember sharing the canoe story with Chief Corston, or any of the members of the TLE committee, but somehow, the canoe is what they felt they had to give to Kaitlin; it could not have been a better choice. I am positive her Grandpa was there in that hall on September 17 seeing her with her canoe and smiling his proud and happy smile. </p>
<p><a width="750" href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808423273?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808423273?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a></p>
<p></p>
<p>Photo courtesy of Al Ritchie who took this during our Dad's last hunt in 1986.</p>
<p></p>A Great Love...tag:www.kamazooie.com,2017-01-30:6471104:BlogPost:658162017-01-30T16:00:00.000ZBrian Ritchiehttp://www.kamazooie.com/profile/09fcc95vgwc3d
<p>A great love was reunited last night, and that is the love of my parents Hilda and Esher Ritchie. Our Mom passed away about 7:30 last night, peacefully in the company of her family, but oddly that is not the focus of this post. I would like to focus on the truly undying love that our parents had for each other. </p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808425829?profile=original" target="_self"><img class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808425829?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="500"></img></a></p>
<p></p>
<p>Much has already been written about my…</p>
<p>A great love was reunited last night, and that is the love of my parents Hilda and Esher Ritchie. Our Mom passed away about 7:30 last night, peacefully in the company of her family, but oddly that is not the focus of this post. I would like to focus on the truly undying love that our parents had for each other. </p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808425829?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="500" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808425829?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="500" class="align-center"/></a></p>
<p></p>
<p>Much has already been written about my <a href="http://www.kamazooie.com/profiles/blogs/6471104:BlogPost:42003" target="_blank">Mom</a> and <a href="http://www.kamazooie.com/profiles/blogs/becoming-a-guide-in-northern-ontario" target="_blank">Dad</a> on Kamazooie by my brother Lark and myself; I am sure that it is clear that they loved each other deeply. What remains untold, is the way that they both thought of, and virtually planned for, their immortal love. It wasn't something that was literally planned in the conscious space but looking back, there was no doubt that these two soulmates would always be together.</p>
<p>As was recalled in other posts about my Dad, he was a man of great vision. He had his own dreams in which he eventually built a thriving tourist business and fishing lodge on Prairie Bee Lake, all with the help of his life and love partner, our Mom. But he also saw well into the future in family matters; at family events, he would often say, 'lets capture this for posterity'. We thought nothing of it at the time, but of course, theses pictures of family outings et cetera were for us in the future when we were no longer together. There's also <a href="http://www.kamazooie.com/profiles/blogs/needs-innovation-industries-and-posterity" target="_blank">another post</a> where he took my brother Allan for a ride in the bush with Al's newly purchased video camera. During the drive he stopped, nowhere in particular, made a fire and started some tea. In retrospect, we all know now, this was to capture this traditional practice of sharing a tea over an open fire with us in the future because he knew of his own mortality and this video would transcend that. </p>
<p>More to the point of this post, my Father was not a deeply religious man but another thing that he used to tell us, with no particular concern or threat in sight was, "The bible says that when we are in heaven, a thousand years is but a blink of an eye". While it was never specified, it was very clear that this was meant to reassure us that when one goes before another, in only a blink of an eye, he or she will be joined by their loved ones in heaven.</p>
<p>Well, he unfortunately passed 30 years before my Mom and she never stopped thinking of him and neither did any of us, recounting stories when we got together and talking about the good times we shared as a family.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808428435?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808428435?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750" class="align-full"/></a>Long after he was gone, over the last 5 years, as my Mom began to show signs of dementia, a new issue surfaced. While her memory started to fail, my Mom never lost her ability to think clearly about family. Even up until her last week, she clearly knew all of us and our conversation was never about anything irrational or fictional. However, a strange thought began occurring to her regarding Dad; she would say "I wonder what he is doing up there. I wonder if he's found someone else". While this was a half joke in the many times that she said it, it was of course a deep fear that maybe their eternal love was not meant to be. At these times,I would tell her that "Of course not, he's waiting for you". One time about 3 years ago when her quality of life was still well enough, she told me "Well he's just going to have to wait because I'm not ready to go yet!". Other times she said this, and there were many lately, I would remind her what he said about 'the blink of an eye' and that for him, he will have only just gotten there and you will be by his side. </p>
<p>It was not a coincidence that Dad told the 'blink of an eye' quote for us to remember; it was his foresight telling him that he would likely pass before her, and that he needed to plant this firm in all of our memories so that we could reassure Mom that he will be there for her.</p>
<p>On Thursday last week, she was not doing well but she was awake and looking at pictures with us on the TV in her room; one of Dad passed by and I said "Look at that guy, maybe you will see him soon". I didn't know if I should suggest this but I felt it was time to reassure her that he is waiting for her. She smiled weakly and nodded; we all knew it wasn't far off. Well, last night, the time finally came to reunite with her eternal love. We were there to send her off and, without a doubt, Dad was there with waiting arms to receive her. </p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808428621?profile=original" target="_self"><img src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808428621?profile=original" width="737" class="align-full"/></a></p>
<p>There is a post-script to this story of everlasting love, and that is to love deeply and without hesitation or embarrassment. My Father was a demonstrative person and Mom was a little more shy. I remember many times that he would grab her into a hug in the kitchen, in front of everyone, and try to steal a kiss. She would laugh and squirm her way out or give him a little peck. Later, when we spoke of this, she told me several times that she felt bad that she pushed him away at those times; she would give anything, after his passing, for another one of those joyful hugs. I assured her that it was not a problem, he always knew how much she loved him; but of course, she still felt a loss for pushing him away at those times.</p>
<p>So as the saying goes "Dance like nobody is watching, love like you'll never be hurt, sing like no one is listening and live like it is heaven on earth". While we may have the possibility for eternal love like Hilda and Esher, we must also treasure the ones who love us here and now and enjoy the amazing opportunity that the Creator has placed before us here on earth.</p>
<p>I wish you all health, happiness and very deep and everlasting love.</p>
<p>Brian</p>
<p></p>
<p></p>The Power of Circumstancetag:www.kamazooie.com,2017-03-20:6471104:BlogPost:662202017-03-20T05:30:00.000ZLorne Alan Rileyhttp://www.kamazooie.com/profile/LorneAlanRiley
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808426272?profile=original" target="_self"><img class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808426272?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"></img></a> <a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808428476?profile=original" target="_self"></a><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429124?profile=original" target="_self"></a><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429270?profile=original" target="_self"></a></p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808426272?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808426272?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808428476?profile=original" target="_self"></a><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429124?profile=original" target="_self"></a><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429270?profile=original" target="_self"></a><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808432917?profile=original" target="_self"></a>It's funny how circumstance can impact your life...how the seemingly random and inconsequential can often turn out to be quite the opposite. Such was the case for the genesis of my latest musical collaboration <em>Monks on the Moon</em> and our new album "When Worlds Collide"</p>
<p>About two years ago I got a call from Alex Blake-Milton, partner at a big PR firm here called Brunswick, asking me to speak at a staff event that they were holding on Yas Island near Abu Dhabi. I gladly accepted and quite randomly took along a few CDs from the first album I recorded - "Penny Earned" - with <em>stereotypes</em>. I had a whack of them left (you always tend to over order CDs) so wanted to share the joy. It ended up being a good decision as upon handing one to Alex, I learned he was a musician...a guitarist for a local band called Suburban Voodoo. As it turned out he had just left the group to set up a new band. Two months later I got a call from Alex, asking me to jam with his new group "Tundra". The try out went well enough and soon we were playing every couple of weeks...rock covers. This all happened while I was recording and playing with Mileage 51. One night we all went out as a band and had a few too many. I ended up writing a song (lyrics only) based on conversations snippets from the night. (It's actually completely mad but cool song although I don't have music for it yet.) Yet again, I digress...</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808428476?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808428476?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a>In any case Alex then shared some original music he had been working on. We started writing together and quickly discovered there was amazing synergy. We churned out songs very quickly, laid down scratch tracks using garage band and soon had an album's worth.</p>
<p>We then set about to record the album at In the Mix studios, the same place we jammed. Nash runs the place and gave us a good deal to record so we were off to the races. Marc Tondera, our drummer from Tundra, laid down the percussion. Alex played guitar and bass. A young recording engineer, Dathi (who I then knew as David and now work with quite a bit as he runs the board at Red, Hot and Chili) joined in the fun as we laid down the album over the course of a couple of months.</p>
<p><img width="750" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429124?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></p>
<p>When it came to producing the album, we turned to my friend and talented producer Roy Bolwede, who produced both Penny Earned and Stone Unturned. Roy put in months of effort, juggling his job and buildling a house in Thailand in between and really brought out the best in the music.</p>
<p>So here we are, almost two years later, launching Monks on the Moon "When Worlds Collide". We have pulled together a band to trot it around Dubai including Olivier Berroud on bass and Dean Butler on rhythm guitar, Marc again on drums and Lauren on back-up vocals.</p>
<p>I have learned that getting indie music heard is a lot like trying to flag down a jet aircraft while you're stranded on a desert island in the middle of the Pacific. It ain't easy. But you have to give it your best shot, within the budget you assign. We opted for Tunecore as the aggregator. It turns out, they have a great package and interesting options for distribution at reasonable prices. So we are out there...everywhere. iTunes, spotify, Apple Music, Google Play, Amazon and 25 other online stores. We have a website <a href="http://www.monksonthemoon.com">www.monksonthemoon.com</a> and facebook page etc. We didn't have much budget for video but Alex's friend John was flown in from Muscat to film us playing to the album in one of Nash's studios. So we are now on youtube as well.</p>
<p><img width="750" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808432917?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></p>
<p>Speaking of the music, I'm quite proud of this album. The more songwriting I do, the more I learn. And the more I can contribute. As part of the tunecore package we had 6 of our songs reviewed by 100 people...from all walks of life, largely 18-24. A few of the songs rated very well so it was nice to get that positive feedback from people who have no idea who you are...not that I don't value feedback from friends, colleagues and family...I absolutely do!</p>
<p>The highest rated song was "Lockdown", have a listen and let me know what you think. (the summary of feedback/rating is also below)</p>
<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTllK-SJBIs">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTllK-SJBIs</a></p>
<p></p>
<p><img width="750" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429270?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></p>
<p></p>
<p>The music is done, CDs will be printed on Thursday featuring some amazing artwork from the very talented people at Mojo. All that's left to do now is to start flagging down some planes. Wish me luck!</p>
<p>Thanks for reading as always!<br/> Cheers<br/> Lorne</p>An inspirational story of my grandmothertag:www.kamazooie.com,2016-03-28:6471104:BlogPost:628932016-03-28T21:00:00.000ZMichael James Coynehttp://www.kamazooie.com/profile/MichaelJamesCoyne
<p>Hello, I am a brand new member and this is my first action on this site, as requested by Brian Ritchie, who is a member of your site. I hope you enjoy my story and it finds it's way to inspiring at least one person. Cheers</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font-size-6"><strong><span style="color: #000000;">An Incredible Gift</span></strong></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> Written Mar. 25, 2016 by Michael James Coyne…</p>
<p>Hello, I am a brand new member and this is my first action on this site, as requested by Brian Ritchie, who is a member of your site. I hope you enjoy my story and it finds it's way to inspiring at least one person. Cheers</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font-size-6"><strong><span style="color: #000000;">An Incredible Gift</span></strong></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> Written Mar. 25, 2016 by Michael James Coyne<a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429347?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="572" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429347?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a></p>
<p>I have been planning to write out this story of my grandmother for many years and although I am sharing this version of it now, I intend to tweak it more in the years to come before there is a finished version. This version will include the most important details, and I hope it somehow makes a difference in sharing it. For all the advances we have made technologically, as one of the supposed top species of this planet we have not matured very well at all. This story is filled with a terrible loss of a life stolen, and ends with an incredible gift. The gift is not just for me, although I am the initial recipient; it is a gift for all of humanity. The gift is a lesson in which we can hopefully learn from to change our world for the better. There is purpose in suffering, and our greatest growth indeed comes in our times of suffering. My hope is that in telling this story it will leave a lasting mark on enough people that somehow it can spread in the hopes that one day this will never happen again to any person on the planet. It is hard to sit and think how much further we could be, the steward species of this world, if the story line of history was one reflecting in the truth that we are all the same. We are all equal. No matter the colour of your skin, your gender, your language or your religion. Take away the outer layer, the lessons you have learned on what should and shouldn’t be that is given to you by others, and everything is exactly the same, blood, organs, brain, and skeleton. How many more Einstein’s would the world have known if in our history we had not suppressed anyone?</p>
<p>My grandmother: Anna Ruffo McGoldrick.</p>
<p>Anna, who I spent my life calling Nannie (Italian for grandmother) was born on April 30, 1926 to her Italian immigrant parents Rosaria, and Vincenzo Ruffo. I am lucky to have a vivid memory of my great grandmother Rosaria. As a very young child, after the death of her husband Vincenzo, I recall she always wore a traditional black mourning dress. Rosaria was known for grabbing cheeks between thumb and forefinger uttering, ‘pincherella’. This would be followed with, ‘we musta fatten you upa’. I feel very fortunate to have met her, and retained this memory from such a young age. I wish I had more. Let that be a side note, if you have aging relatives, don’t wait until tomorrow to go and spend time with them, go today.</p>
<p>Anna (Nannie), died in the summer of 2010. For my entire life, I had always heard the line that Nannie hated men. This in fact was very apparent in my early years as a child, she did not take well to me back then, and looking back on it now I can see her thought process. To Anna, even though I was a child, I would still one day become a man. Worse yet was the thought that I would become a man like her son in law, my father; Mike Sr., a terribly selfish human being, who spent his life treating Nannies first daughter, Frances (my mother), in a way that was most repulsive to Anna. Frances to Mike is an underling; a servant to cater only to his needs. This created in Anna a constant reminder of why she loathed men. Thankfully, this would prove not to happen with me and in time, though it took years of therapy and self help books to become who I am today, I have not ended up anything like my father. Ironically, it was those years of therapy that helped me put the pieces of this story together in that I am able to share it. Luckily, I was able to make my way into Anna’s life in a more meaningful way in later years, and we became quite close. That was not always the case. Her disdain for most men was clear to me as a child and as such we had a precarious and clashing relationship when I was young. It is unfortunate that my father gave me some preconceived notions about how he felt about Anna, and in particular her brother Rocco. He did not like Rocco, and in telling me this as a child I took on my father’s attitude about it. It is with a heavy heart that I learned in 2008 just how important Rocco was to Anna. They were very close, brother and sister. By the time I discovered this, Rocco was already gone, and I never had a chance to know this man who loved and was loved so dearly by Anna. It is a tragedy of my life now, and I so wish I could go back. That is how it goes though isn’t it? Everything that we are, everything that we think, it all has been given to us by others. If you still to this day judge another person on what someone else says about them, I implore you to reconsider not letting that happen ever again. I wish now that I could have just one day to sit and talk with my great Uncle Rocco, and it is a hard life lesson to learn now that it is too late. That is only the tip of the iceberg, as there are many things engrained into our societal subconscious thought process that needs to be undone. It is and feels like an impossible task, but I remain hopeful to some degree that humans can somehow discover this before it is too late for all of us. Perhaps with this story the unraveling of one change is all I can manage on a small scale. My favourite quote from Desmond Tutu is; can one person make a difference? Yes. The ocean after all is just droplets of water that have come together.</p>
<p>When I was with Anna in 2008 she knew her time was closing, and the end was coming soon. We had such a great visit that year and I feel very fortunate for it. When it came time for me to leave, she commented that this could very well be the last time she ever saw me. I assured her with a promise that this would not be the case, and that she would surely see me again. I in fact got to spend a lot of time with her in the summer of 2010, and had some of the best conversations with her during her last month of her life. Stuck in an elderly care hospital ward with failed kidneys, and recovering from a broken hip, she glowed for me every time I walked in to see her that last month. She would beam and tell everyone who came through that this is her grandson who’s come to visit with her. The fact that I was able to provide this happiness for her is a close second to the gift she left me with the day she died. There were 20 seniors in her ward, and it was rare to see any of them have visits from family members. The elderly are forgotten about by the young. Let’s be clear on this part, in that this is only common to western culture. This does not happen in other cultures or with people of other countries in our world, and it is a terrible thing for our society to have driven us to doing. I am grateful that I had the opportunity to spend so much time with her in that last month and indeed the last day of her life. I’m not sure if it was just chance or if it was meant to be somehow, but I was in Ontario for the whole month and thus got to spend many days with her. A lot of the main part of this story came together in those visits, which lead to how special it was for me to spend the last day of her life with her, and the incredible gift she gave me that day.</p>
<p>Anna spent her early years in a remote, back woods railroad town, Metagama Ontario. Her father, Vincenzo, was a CP railway track inspector, and their town was built and owned by CP Rail solely for their workers. So remote was Metagama that it was only accessible by train or horseback as there were, and still to this day are no roads leading into the town. The children of the workers living there would have school only once every 5 weeks, when the ‘school car’ would be brought to town on the outbound train. They were given instruction for the day, and 4 weeks’ worth of school work to do until the next school car day. With little else to do to fill their days, the children of Metagama had a wilderness backyard for their playground.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429727?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="556" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429727?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a></p>
<p>As a side note, this area of northern Ontario was frequented by Archibald Belaney, better known as Grey Owl, a famous trapper turned conservationist who wrote several books. I do not have details but another man from the north, Mike Bates, must have crossed paths with Grey Owl, and they surely knew each other. Mike owned a series of cabins in the area, and ran the Mike Bates Hunt and Fish Club. Metagama was known North America wide for its world class fishing, bear and moose hunting. Hunters from all corners of North America were drawn to the area.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808437243?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="388" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808437243?profile=RESIZE_480x480"/></a></p>
<p>Mike Bates, watching my young grandmother took it upon himself to start training her as young girl (and two other girls, Gwen and Marian McKee) how to be outdoorspeople (outdoorsmen was the language of the era). He spent years teaching them how to fish, track, trap, shoot, hunt and be forest rangers. Thus in the early 1940’s while most men of the area were off fighting in WWII, Anna became a top guide for the Mike Bates Hunt and Fish Club. One can imagine the surprise when American hunters would show up at the camp to find their expert marksman and hunting guide to be a 19 year old beauty.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808438843?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="570" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808438843?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a></p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808439135?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="570" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808439135?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a></p>
<p>So enthralled were they that as the word spread about this in 1940’s Canada, it surely was news worthy. Several reporters made their way to the area to see firsthand, and write articles on this fascinating story. Local news people, Toronto reporters and indeed even one from the New York Times went to check it out and report on this unusually rare situation of the time.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808439948?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="437" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808439948?profile=RESIZE_480x480"/></a></p>
<p>This became quite the puzzle for me. Looking at the photos of Anna, private and those of the news articles she appeared in, you can clearly see a vibrancy of life on her face. Her smile was constant, ear to ear wide, mischievous, confident, and alive with an abundance of happiness. She was on top of the world and it reflects beautifully in those photos of this early period of her life. It was such a contradiction for me that in all the rest of the photo’s she was in for the remainder of her life, that vibrant smile and aliveness was never seen on her face ever again. She did smile of course, but you can see it was never the same again as those early years. Why? This became a great puzzle to me how someone who started out with the world at her feet could end up like this, hating men. The quest for answers started with her husband, Lawrence.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808441542?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="570" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808441542?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a></p>
<p>Not passing any judgment or focus of blame onto any one person, Lawrence was living out the life he had been taught to live by society. It is those engrained ‘societal norms’ that are passed down from generation to generation that we are not aware of on a conscious level, and are slow to change. Lawrence enjoyed drinking. Beyond that I do not know much more, other than Anna growing up the way she did becoming an incredibly strong independent woman, did not take well to being treated poorly. As such, she would stand her ground and fight toe to toe with Lawrence. Together they had 3 children, my mother Frances, and twin girls Joan and Joyce. Whatever happened with all of them as a family unit remains mostly unspoken. I was not even aware until recently that Lawrence passed in the 1980’s. Prior to this I was always told he died when I was a baby, not a teen, as was the case. There was enough info there to work with though and the seed was planted for me on the path to finding the why? The truth when it comes to you is filled with horrible sadness. It did not need to and should not have happened. If we were more mature as the top species we are supposed to be on this planet, the world would be such a different place. Anna in her early years was both fortunate and unfortunate in that she grew up as an ‘equal’ to men. In fact, there were a number of years in the back woods that she was the peer to the men who came there. They looked to Anna for guidance. It is the only life she knew and she owned the world, loving every minute of it. Until the day came that she would leave Metagama and move to the city. It may not have happened all at once, and perhaps even built over a period of years but eventually it would become an unmistakable reality to her.</p>
<p>The 1940’s men of the city, and indeed the 1940’s men of the world could care less what she had done, or what she was capable of. To them and for the rest of her life she was nothing more to men than just another woman. It is not hard to imagine how devastating this would be to her, building more and more as time went on and the truth of it became a disparaging reality. It is the aha of all aha’s. No wonder she hated men! I almost hate being a man thinking about this. Life did not play out the way it should have at all for Anna, and it was tragically stolen from her by men. Had things worked out the way they should have, she would have had a very different path in life. She and the McKee sisters should have been written about in more than just a few news articles; they should all three in fact be historical Canadian figures.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808453087?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="570" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808453087?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a></p>
<p><img width="566" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808454679?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></p>
<p>That is the back story that leads up to Anna’s last days of life, and of her leaving a powerfully extraordinary gift for me to carry in my heart for the rest of my life. Starting with the last week of visits while I was there, we had some moments that I will hold deep in my heart forever. As with most elderly, she had some moments of forgetfulness, but there were many more moments filled with great clarity. Waiting around for those moments paid off, and the details of specific moments of time in her life are now cherished memories for me. Instead of becoming the all too familiar, oh I wish I had more time, I have the memory of having actually taken the time in place of that. Of course, I wish I had more, there can never be enough I suppose. In the unfortunate circumstance of family estrangement however, out of 5 grandchildren and 2 great grandchildren, I was the only one to take this time with her (though my sister made one last visit with her). For a few years prior I had been working on my niece and nephew (the great grandkids, who lived in Alberta) to just simply write her a letter. In the last 2 weeks of Anna’s life I finally had them convinced to write her, and Frances (her own daughter) wiped away all those years of effort with one sentence. She told them, ‘I wouldn’t bother; she won’t know who you are anyway’. That one line after years of trying robbed Anna of this pleasure in the last days of her life. It’s shocking to think about it now, in how many times people had taken away something special from her when she was such an extraordinary woman for her time. I was so disappointed in Frances, though at the point of this particular moment in time I had been estranged from her myself for 14 years. Anna had moments of repetition, but never once in all the time I spent with her did she not know who I was. One thing we joked about daily was my spiked hair. She would want to touch it and feel how sharp it was due to the extreme hold gel I use. I would tell her not to make me angry or I would poke her in the eye with my hair, and she would laugh heartily.</p>
<p>In another moment she gave me a piece of info that was going on secretly within her. We had just returned to her bed, and she was sitting on the edge just staring blankly. I was coaxing her to lie down, and at one point she quipped at me, ‘I know you want me to hurry so you can leave’. ‘No’, I said, ‘take your time Nannie, I am not going anywhere’. Even in her last days of life, she was an incredibly strong woman, not giving in to others pushing her aside. She was annoyed, and her acting this way with people was her fighting back. She was standing her ground, and in charge just like the strong woman she came into being 70 years before.</p>
<p>Her long term memory was as sharp as a tack. In wanting her to relive in memories from a happier time in her life, I searched the internet for popular songs from the 1940’s and made her a CD of them. ‘Oooooohhhh, Jimmy Durante’ she said immediately when his was the first song playing, and said it with a great big smile. I can never fully explain how grateful I am for this time spent with her.</p>
<p>Anna was losing ground however, and was in one way lucky. Along with complete Kidney failure, she was also suffering from uterine cancer. The cancer was starting to take over, and her demise was imminent. Though the decision of how she would die would lie in the hands of others, to stop dialysis was a much more pain free way to go. I had run the length of my time to wait there, and it was time for me to go back home to work. Wanting to be with her in the room at the exact moment she left this life was very important to me, so I asked lots of questions about how long she would have after dialysis was stopped. The decision to stop it was made within days of my arriving back in Alberta. Going on the advice of doctors, I booked my return flight for roughly before the time I thought she would make it to. Having been estranged from my parents, as previously stated, some inter family in fighting started to form. My father, Mike Sr., did not want me present. Luckily, the decision was made that I was welcome there regardless, so Mike refused to go instead. Surely, though not all the information of this situation is written here, it is the way Anna would have wanted it. Prior to my arrival my sister, Lori, and mother, Frances went out to see Anna one more time, with my sister leaving again for home in Alberta the night before I arrived back in Peterborough myself. Anna provided them with nothing. I am sure now looking back that she either suspected that Frances already thought she had lost her mind, or was acting in a way towards her like she had lost it on purpose due Frances treating her that way. She was full of awareness and it was choice from her not to give them anything.</p>
<p>Anna was alone at the hospital the morning I returned; just over a week after I had headed home I was back again. She had been moved into a private room for herself. When I came in, I held her hand as she looked at me. I kissed her forehead and told her, ‘I am back Nannie, I came back to be with you’. Already past the point of being able to talk anymore, she looked me in the eye, looked at my hair, then back in my eye. I told her, ‘yes, I will still poke your eye out with my hair if you make me angry’. Using up what I am sure was every ounce of strength she had left in her, she smiled at me. She knew exactly who I was, understood what I was saying, and in the moment of that smile I knew she was saying in her mind, my grandson has come to see me. It was a wonderful moment that I believe was as much a gift to her from me, being there on this last day of her life, as it was for me that she gave me this moment of awareness. I was very glad that she was still in this lifetime, and that I would still be able to fulfill my wish of being with her the moment she passed. I was determined for it. From that first moment onward, she went deeper and deeper though, and for most of the rest of the day she couldn’t even open her eyes. I spent the day holding her hand while we listened to Jimmy Durante together. Even though she could no longer respond, I kept talking to her throughout the day continually letting her know that I was there with her. I made a promise to her at one point to kiss her forehead every time I had to leave or when I would re-enter the room. After 12 hours of this my Aunt Joan came by with her sister, my estranged mother Frances. I had gone over the scenario in my mind of how things with Frances would go, this being the first time seeing her in 14 years. Somehow, I had it in my mind that un-tethered from Mike Sr. she would have jumped at the opportunity to see and know her son again, even if just for a short time. That thought was proven wrong immediately as they entered. I offered Frances a hug, which she at first walked past, then reluctantly offered one arm over my shoulder. Not intending to air family dysfunction in writing this, it is just another part of the story to be told as it sits with me. I am sure Anna was conscious and aware of this initial incident and also the hour plus after in which I made repeated attempts to connect with Frances again; offering to show Frances pictures of my life, trying at conversation, all to no avail. All I could get out of her were cold, frank responses. Anna heard all of it.</p>
<p>This time was spent with Frances alone as my Aunt had returned home, planning to come back later. After just over an hour, Anna’s breathing had started to become more laboured. I was pressing the nurses, who were very reluctant to answer, for their opinion on how much longer they thought Anna would survive. These next moments of what happened I wrote down right away back in my hotel room a few hours later.</p>
<p>Frances was out of the room at one point when the nurses entered for a checkup on Anna. I had been standing and holding Anna’s hand when they came in, so I let it go to reach over and turn off the music that was playing. Still reluctant to answer my ‘how long do you think’ question, they finally caved and said they have seen others in this state go another 24 hours, but they couldn’t say that as a guarantee. When they left, with Frances still out of the room, I kissed Anna on the forehead again and told her that she would have to wait for me to come back in a few hours. At that moment I was releasing her hand just to reach over and turn the radio back on, and she squeezed my hand tighter hanging on to it. I laughed, and said ‘you don’t want to let me go Nannie? I am just going to be a second to turn the music back on. She released my hand, then after reaching over turning the music back on I stepped back, took her hand in mine again, and kissed her forehead. She resumed to squeezing my hand off and on. Frances re-entered the room and I discussed what the nurses said with her. I told her that I was going to go and sleep for a couple hours then come right back. I kissed Anna one more time, and said ‘I will see you in a little bit Nannie’, and I left.</p>
<p>In the moments that I left the room, I washed up in a washroom, and had just gotten into my car outside when my phone started ringing. Less than 5 minutes had passed. The nurse on the phone said to me, ‘you better come back’. In my mind I was devastated. I was so stuck on the idea that I wanted to be right beside her when she left, that the nurse letting me back in offering a comforting, ‘they often wait for someone to leave’, did not register with me in that moment of time. Back in the hospital room, Anna was gone. Frances mentioned that she had her back to Anna and was making up the make shift bed in the room to lie down herself when she realized Anna was no longer breathing. Sad of course that she was gone, yet still upset that I wasn’t there to be with her I said to my mother, ‘I had just told her she would have to wait until I came back in a few hours. I really wanted to be here with her when she left’. Frances replied, ‘Nannie always did what she wanted, when she wanted to do it’. I agreed with Frances in that moment; however I was still feeling disappointment. What was I hoping for in being there? I am not sure. I just wanted to be comforting her as she passed from this life.</p>
<p>It was only a few hours later that I had been chatting with a close friend about all this back in my hotel when the full realization of what happened finally fell into place for me; in part because of the words from the nurse that they sometimes wait for a person to leave. In one moment of clarity it all came to me with absolute understanding, and a flood of tears burst out of me. The vision was so clear that in those last moments of her squeezing my hand, while in a state of seeming unconsciousness, were a moment in time that I feel deep in my soul that Anna was being called to. A bright light, a voice or face from her past, whatever understanding any of us could have as to what happens when we go, calling to her, ‘come Anna, it’s time to go’, and she was saying to them, ‘No, I am not leaving while my grandson is here’. Just thinking this as I write these words brings the tears back with no loss of power in them, and it has been 5 years now. For two thirds of her life, a life stolen from her by men, on her last day she had come full circle. She stood her ground in all her toughness and waited to leave this life for me, a man. I have so much thankfulness in my heart for this incredible gift she has left me with. Thank you Anna for this amazing memory and such an incredible gift that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.</p>
<p>This is not just a gift for me to selfishly carry; it is a gift to be shared with all humanity. My hopes in sharing it are that it can make a difference somehow. Even if this only reaches one person, it serves its purpose. Our lives are preciously short, and we are going at it full speed wasting too much of it, not realizing that we are missing out on important things until it is too late. We need to change. Every life is as important as the next, and no one person is more special than another. We have to undo what we have learned, the thoughts that have been given to us handed down from generation to generation; the things that we have learned on a subconscious level that we are not even aware of. I cannot be sure what you learned in the first 5 years of your life, but I can tell you exactly what you learned in your 5th year of life when you first started to go to school, and it wasn’t the alphabet. The first lessons we all learn in school are, who is smart, who is dumb, who is cute, who is ugly, who is rich, who is poor, who is fat, who is skinny… and it goes on and on. Guess what? It is all a load of BS. We are all equal. We are all the same. Some have advantages sure, but at the end of the day we all share that we are human beings, and this is not the way we should be treating each other at all. Anna was poised to become someone extraordinary in her lifetime, and had that taken away from her simply because she was female. We can change this, and it all starts with you today. This being a holiday weekend, if you find yourself at a family gathering or not, go and visit with someone elderly in your family, or pick up the phone and call them if they are far away. Don’t wait until tomorrow when you have the ability today. Also, in the coming days practice kindness to other people you cross paths with. Simple things, like deciding for one whole day to giving every person in traffic signaling to come over a large space to enter, buy a homeless person a meal, or even smiling at someone who you can see is having a bad day. Hold your learned anger that someone else is ‘stupid’, and that somehow you are superior to them. You are not. Together is the only way we can collectively change this world, and stop this from being the norm. Together, droplets of water can create an ocean.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Michael James Coyne<a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808456363?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="650" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808456363?profile=original"/></a></p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808441542?profile=original" target="_self"> </a></p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808429347?profile=original" target="_self"><br/></a> <a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808462044?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808462044?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a> <a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808463509?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808463509?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a></p>
<p></p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808464827?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="325" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808464827?profile=original"/></a></p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808453087?profile=original" target="_self"><br/></a> <a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808466290?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808466290?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808468113?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="609" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808468759?profile=original"/></a></p>
<p><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808472553?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>The Music Of Springtag:www.kamazooie.com,2015-07-19:6471104:BlogPost:423442015-07-19T01:00:00.000ZWilliam Lark Ritchiehttp://www.kamazooie.com/profile/WilliamLarkRitchie
<p><em>Today, I was at a celebration of a friend's fiftieth wedding anniversary, and got talking to a few other friends who encouraged me to post more of my stories...</em></p>
<p><em>After getting home, and thinking about it, I decided to re-post a few here at Kamazooie, because the old site (Geocities.com) <em>I used back then </em>closed in 2009, and the stories are now only archived and cannot be edited, or new stories added.</em></p>
<p><em>If you have the interest, you can find more by…</em></p>
<p><em>Today, I was at a celebration of a friend's fiftieth wedding anniversary, and got talking to a few other friends who encouraged me to post more of my stories...</em></p>
<p><em>After getting home, and thinking about it, I decided to re-post a few here at Kamazooie, because the old site (Geocities.com) <em>I used back then </em>closed in 2009, and the stories are now only archived and cannot be edited, or new stories added.</em></p>
<p><em>If you have the interest, you can find more by '</em><i>googling' me (Lark Ritchie) However, I will try to bring them all to Kamazooie, where I may begin to write a few more thoughts that wander through my head.</i></p>
<p><em>The following little piece, I wrote in 1998... Quite a while ago.. and then, I was talking about a day back in 1959... over a half century ago... My thoughts remain the same today...</em></p>
<p></p>
<h1 align="center"><img style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 2em;" src="http://www.reocities.com/chapleaucree/rbbird1.jpg"/></h1>
<h1 align="center"><font style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 2em;" color="blue">The Music of Spring</font></h1>
<p><font face="Times New Roman"><i>Copyright 1998, Lark Ritchie</i></font></p>
<p>On a sunny Saturday morning in May of 1959, my father stepped out onto the porch of our home and called to my brother and I who were playing in the back yard. "Com’on, we’re gonna take paddle down the river to see something!" I was ten, and my brother, Darryl, eight. </p>
<p>"Down the river," meant an adventure to us, ducks in spring plumage, muskrats and beaver navigating the edges of the marsh, and maybe the sight of a moose. </p>
<p>A warm south wind was carrying summer back into the north. For us, it would be the first water travel of the new season. </p>
<p>Minutes later, with a lunch packed by our mother, dad slipped the old canoe into the water, and we scrambled into it, paddles in hand. Looking up towards our house, Mom waved to us as we backed out from the shore, and Grannie, on the steps of her home, next door, wailed her familiar caution, "Be careful, you can drownnnn!" </p>
<p>We waved good bye as the canoe swung north into the stream of a million stars that reflected the sun into our eyes. </p>
<p>The conversation in the canoe was that of father and sons. "How far are we going?"</p>
<p>"To the big lake." </p>
<p>"Can we go to the rapids?"</p>
<p>"No, there’s still ice there, but today it will go... sometime today; we’re going there to hear it go." </p>
<p>The questions were interrupted by ducks in flight, and my brother and I pantomimed hunters with shotguns leading the birds as they flew towards us. As they crested over the canoe, we both ‘powed’ our particular ducks, and in our minds they plummeted to the water. It was a reenactment of a ritual the men in our family repeated time and again on the water, a sharpening of shooting skills, in preparation for hunting.</p>
<p>In early May, the Chapleau ‘back-river’ opens up a week or so before the ‘big lake’ a widening of the waterway where the ‘front river’ and back river met, some three miles from our home. The current was faster in the narrows leading to the big lake, moving with increased runoff from the land, the water, a fraction of a degree warmer. In later years, I would make the same first trip either with my brothers or friends, or alone. There is something about that first trip on the water, of rounding familiar bends, of re-acknowledging the beaver houses, and the old campgrounds, of comparing the water-levels to other years, and re-entering the new season, familiar, yet totally new.</p>
<p>The brown marshes are beginning to green at this time, red-wing blackbirds hang on last year’s bullrushes, warning marsh-beings of invaders with their calls. "Creeee-icczzz!" "Creeee-icczzz!" And every hundred or so yards, ducks skitter along the water, taking flight, leaving widening triangular wakes shimmering in the sun. Muskrats, sunning themselves on clumps of partially submerged marsh, awake at one’s approach and slide noiselessly into the water, disappearing beneath the water’s surface. And although we are ever on the watch for a moose, we hardly see them. There is no need to be at the water’s edge. Water plants have not yet grown, and food is abundant on higher ground.</p>
<p>The first ride of 1959 was no different than any other that had happened on that river over past hundreds of years. What was important to us, was that we were on it, a part of that bustling natural city of activity, of motion, of most beautiful noise… Traveling the river, emerging into summer... </p>
<p>We looked for our moose, scanned the shores, and the ponds that dotted the marshes beyond the river’s edge. Every few minutes, one of us would quietly announce, "No Moose…" Again, a traditional family ritual, a way of stating a reason for being, our job, and our occupation. And every so often, a stern warning from dad, "Okay, enough playing.. you’ll tip us.." or a commentary on a fish taken ‘right in there’ or "right over there." And not infrequently, an even more urgent warning, "Settle down! Now!" And we would pull our hands from the water, and warm them in our mouths, or our under our arms and sit tight… for about three minutes…</p>
<p>We reached the big lake about noon, confronted with a masses of black ice fringed with an edge of white crystals that blocked our way. The canoe skimmed along the barrier, as we sought a path to go further. Slowly choosing our way we gained some fifty yards. "Here’s what we’re gonna do.." explained dad, "I’m gonna push the canoe up on the ice, and one of you will straddle the bow and I’ll do the same back here… We’ll walk the canoe over the ice to that water along the shore…. When you get tired, switch places." </p>
<p>And so we did… in a relay, and with some puffing, we covered a distance of a quarter mile in less than half an hour, and were again paddling in a channel formed by the shore and the ice, some twenty to fifty feet wide. At the entrance to Jackson Lake, we stopped for a stretch and lunch. The heat of the sun was countered by the wind, carrying the cold of the ice. Dad explained that the south wind would move the ice soon, and that we needed to be a little further down the river. The ice would begin moving and we wanted to be where we could hear it best, about a mile further. He stood and stretched, his signal that we were on the move. </p>
<p>Back in the canoe, we traveled no more than ten minutes. "It’s starting," he announced, "See, behind us, over there?" And the channel in which we were moving, was slowly narrowing. "We have to hurry. Paddle!" We did our best, and the canoe surged rhythmically forward, like a porpoise breaking the water, reaching the shore at the edge of the marsh near the Downie’s lake portage. "Everybody out! The canoe’s coming out of the water." We pulled it up, entirely out of the water, and off the shore some thirty feet. "Okay… Now Sit and listen!" And we sat and watched the channel shrink as the ice moved in.</p>
<p>I expected the ice to hit the shore, leaving us stranded, with another long canoe-walk ahead of us., but as we watched, the ice plowed over the shore, moving up onto beach. I was amazed. </p>
<p>Ever so slowly, an inch every ten seconds, the mottled black ice forced its way onto the land, fracturing itself in long, pencil thin crystals, six to eight inches in length. Jewels, clear and sparkling, splintering from the lake… and I became aware of a sound, a quiet tinkling of chimes, multiplied by thousands, filling the air, unceasingly. For over an hour we watched and heard a half mile of ice generate itself into mounds of diamonds several feet high. And in our laughing and talking and touching, we learned of mass, and momentum, of crystallization, the power of wind and sun, and of the struggle of winter and summer. We each ate an apple and babbled of how we could begin fishing, the coming summer, and swimming on the river. We saw the end of winter pass before our eyes onto the beach, and the beautiful blue water that arrived that day. We had heard the subtle song of spring. I shall never forget it as long as I live.</p>
<p>Such experiences, serve to connect generations and help to build a set of values that connect us to nature much different than the experiential values of an urban dweller. </p>
<p></p>
<p><img class="align-center" src="http://www.reocities.com/chapleaucree/muskrat4.gif"/></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p>Update July 18, 2015.</p>
<p>Here is a picture taken early morning, in late April, 2013...</p>
<p>The Chapleau River, as it leaves the town, heading east, and then north, all the way to Moose Factory, birthplace of my Grandfather and Grandmother Ritchie...</p>
<div><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808425414?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808425414?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"/></a></div>
<div>To others it may seem just a nice picture.. to me it shows the activities that happened here... most recent (look closely, in the foreground) were the snowmobilers... but beyond that, there are memories of my grandfather, my father, my brothers, and friends... and withing the range of this one photo, there are many stories... I can tell you stories about almost every piece of land and water you can see... for example... the story you've read above...</div>
<div>- Lark</div>
<p></p>
<p></p>I Dare You to Dreamtag:www.kamazooie.com,2015-08-11:6471104:BlogPost:421662015-08-11T01:47:57.000ZMartin Jameshttp://www.kamazooie.com/profile/MartinJames
<p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">I saw this quote this morning and I was inspired to capture some of the things that visions of countries, teams or even individuals have delivered to the world because they were too driven (or stubborn ;-) to be silenced or demotivated by the naysayers. </span></p>
<h2 id="yui_3_16_0_1_1439209113124_6199" style="text-align: center;">“The problems of the world cannot possibly be solved by skeptics or cynics whose…</h2>
<p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">I saw this quote this morning and I was inspired to capture some of the things that visions of countries, teams or even individuals have delivered to the world because they were too driven (or stubborn ;-) to be silenced or demotivated by the naysayers. </span></p>
<h2 id="yui_3_16_0_1_1439209113124_6199" style="text-align: center;">“The problems of the world cannot possibly be solved by skeptics or cynics whose horizons are limited by the obvious realities. We need men who can dream of things that never were and ask 'why not'?”</h2>
<p id="yui_3_16_0_1_1439209113124_6200" style="text-align: center;">—John F. Kennedy (1917-1963)<br/> 35th Us President</p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">We all have similar tool-sets; not all the great inventions or achievements have come from Mensa-level scientists; some come from politicians, some come from university dropouts, and yes, some come from Mensa level scientists. I though I would just capture, for fun, some of the things that mankind has done in the last century or so. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808425523?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808425523?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Of course, at least for the believers, the missions to space and eventually the moon with the Apollo program may be our greatest accomplishment from some perspectives. It is hard to believe that this happened almost 50 years ago already.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808425739?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="485" class="align-center" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808425739?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a></span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Not only did Alexander Graham Bell make it possible for us to speak to one another irrespective of our location, he also indirectly kicked-off a love affair with the phone that eventually provided us with smart-phones in our hands in almost any area of the world, where we can have access to almost anyone or anything at least from a communication and information perspective.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808428882?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808428882?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a></p>
<p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">And from the college drop-out category, Steve Jobs not only provided us with a tool for carrying all of our music in our pocket or on an armband, he also help legitimize electronic the music business thereby almost single-handedly saving the music business from the threat of destruction by the peer-to-peer music sharing that was occurring at the beginning of the 21st century.</span></p>
<p><span class="font-size-3" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">A funny story that a colleague told me was that he showed his daughter of 10 years old some of his LP collection and told her how he used to listen to music in his day. She said, <em>"Wow, how big was the iPod to play those?"</em></span></p>
<p><em style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808436479?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/2808436479?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024"/></a></em></p>
<p><span class="font-size-3"><font face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">How can I leave out Elon Musk, who not only brought us PayPal but, arguably the most successful fully electric car. The jury is still out on whether Tesla will ultimately be a successful and profitable car company but it is still a fantastic achievement nevertheless. </font></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">So what will the next visionaries bring us to change our lives or save the planet? If you think that you have something to offer mankind or even your country or community, it seems that you should bullishly push your ideas forward and pay no attention to those who say it cannot be done. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">BTW, I'm still waiting for my flying car, and jet-pack not to mention a transporter service that guarantees my atoms will all be in relatively the same place at my destination. </span></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>The New "Medium" for Story-Tellingtag:www.kamazooie.com,2015-01-06:6471104:BlogPost:399532015-01-06T16:00:00.000ZAmanda @Kamazooiehttp://www.kamazooie.com/profile/AmandaKamazooie
<p>Greetings Members!!!</p>
<p>Here is a beautiful post from a blogger named Micah Baldwin on Medium which is another blogging site like Kamazooie for users to tell there stories and share their experiences. Its a post about his grandmother who lived a great life and loved telling stories about it to anyone who would listen.</p>
<p><a href="https://medium.com/@micah/your-stories-are-safe-fd9bb18b057c">https://medium.com/@micah/your-stories-are-safe-fd9bb18b057c</a></p>
<p class="graf--p">Micah…</p>
<p>Greetings Members!!!</p>
<p>Here is a beautiful post from a blogger named Micah Baldwin on Medium which is another blogging site like Kamazooie for users to tell there stories and share their experiences. Its a post about his grandmother who lived a great life and loved telling stories about it to anyone who would listen.</p>
<p><a href="https://medium.com/@micah/your-stories-are-safe-fd9bb18b057c">https://medium.com/@micah/your-stories-are-safe-fd9bb18b057c</a></p>
<p class="graf--p">Micah completes his beautiful story about his grandmother, the story-teller with the following:</p>
<p class="graf--p"><em>"My grandmother taught me that storytelling is endemic to us as humans. It’s how we relate, how we remember, how we teach, how we celebrate our humanity. Yet, we don’t share our stories with others because we fear their reaction.</em></p>
<p class="graf--p is-withNotes"><em>The truth is that all of our stories matter and are filled with connection. Your viewpoints are necessary; your sharing improves people around you.</em></p>
<p class="graf--p is-withNotes"><em>Share them. Tell them over donuts, or write a blog post. Or call your mom.</em></p>
<p class="graf--p graf--last is-withNotes"><em>Don’t lock them inside and refuse their desire to see the sun."</em></p>
<p class="graf--p graf--last is-withNotes">I think this is a beautiful sentiment regarding sharing. Sites like Kamazooie and Medium are warm and accepting communities that allow you to share your experiences without fear that anyone thinking they are not good enough or that you used a comma when you should have used a semicolon.</p>
<p class="graf--p graf--last is-withNotes">Please share your experiences, they are the life-blood of who we are and who we know or have known.</p>
<p class="graf--p graf--last is-withNotes">Happy New Year to all of you. Maybe make it your goal to tell at least one of your greatest stories in a blog this year :-D <3 <3</p>
<p class="graf--p graf--last is-withNotes"> </p>