\nIn light of recent discoveries of graves, Canadians might well be more careful about how we view our country. We’ve always been known for being more or less innocent, especially compared with others. Perhaps now, that illusion has disappeared, replaced with awareness that anything can happen anywhere – even here.<\/p>\n
\nI have two teenagers, 16 and 18. Yesterday one of them mentioned there’s talk of cancelling Canada Day because of the recent discoveries. I doubt that’s really very helpful, because the victims were\/are Canadians as well. They were kids, defenceless, forced to endure in silence, their sacrifice going completely unnoticed for decades or longer. Yet, we know now: their sacrifice won’t be for nothing.<\/p>\n
In my life, I’ve never taken up the First Nations cause, specifically. Yet, the only funeral I’ve been to, my whole life, was of a First Nations man. Only decades since am I realizing so much of what he taught me.<\/p>\n
That was back in the 80s, and he and his son preferred “Indian” to First Nations. Believe it or not, political correctness had yet to surface. They weren’t politically correct – they were honest.<\/p>\n
The son was my age. One time he brought me, just out of the blue, to a presentation by a group from Alberta called Red Thunder. Without saying where we were going, he just drove us to the museum in Victoria. “Let’s go here,” he said, walking up to a windowless door. He opened it. Inside, a First Nations guard looked us over – we neither had tickets. “We’re here for Red Thunder,” my friend whispered. The guard motioned us to two seats at the back.<\/p>\n
I had no idea the privilege extended to me, viewing Red Thunder’s presentation. At one point, they shared a prayer in which they asked for “the power to defeat my greatest enemy – myself.” The sentence hit me like a ton of bricks. At once I knew that, somehow, this person standing in the light on stage knew me, deep inside, as I lurked back in the far shadows.<\/p>\n
That’s the way lessons worked with those First Nations people and me – they were always spontaneous. I shudder to think what else they knew about me, but never said. Yet, for some reason, they accepted me: we were friends for years. (I’d say we still are, though we haven’t spoken in decades: we just went separate ways. We may well meet again.)<\/p>\n
Perhaps that’s the way we should face today’s larger context. The First Nations are a collection of cultures much older than ours. They’ve tolerated our failures so far, and even offered wisdom in return. Yet, their informal, spontaneous appreciation of the truth has kept things together, and even progressed us: no-one wants residential schools any more.<\/p>\n
I wonder what that kid from the late 80s who smuggled me in to see Red Thunder – I wonder what he’s doing this Canada Day? Likely he’s just taking care of what needs to be done, I expect: he wasn’t outwardly ceremonial. Yet, he was deeply spiritual and philosophical while he fixed a family member’s car or pursued whatever task presented itself.<\/p>\n
I don’t think the First Nations have given up on Canada yet: I’m certain my old friend hasn’t. We shouldn’t, either.<\/p>\n