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Table of Contents Introduction, Acknowledgements, Cree Translations 1. The Valley In Peace (VIP)

2. Mighty Eagles

3. Santa’s Eagles

4. Eddy the Eagle

5. Rainbow and Squee-sis

6. Stone Moving

7. Prince Rupert All Native Tournament

8. Our Daughter, Lana Plante

9. My Boy, Sonny Plante

10. My Interpreter

11. The Cougars

12. The Smokehouse

13. The Oolichans

14. Nass Valley Road- Highway One Thirteen

15. Crystal Beauty

16. I Thank You Nee-Chee-Waa-Gun

17. What Resolutions?

18. Face to Face

19. Mee-Wich-Ski Rodeo

20. Homework in Verse

21. Rooski R.I.P.

22. Across the Track, Beach Front Property

23. Now Jobless

24. My Parrot

25. My Real “Mary” Christmas

26. Our Very Merry Christmas

27. Happy Birthday, Nee-Chee-Wa-Gun!

28. Doggone Mike Grendler

29. Our Summertime

30. The Final Chapter

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INTRODUCTION

I am a seventy-two-year-old Metis Cree man from Alberta. Writing has always been a passion of mine. Life through verse poems began long before losing my sight twenty-nine years ago. They have since developed a determination of their own through enjoyment. I have written and recorded close to one hundred and fifty life poems. I dedicate these to my two young, beautiful granddaughters, Kiana and Raine.

Tools for the trade include a tape recorder, microphone, knowledge of the English Language and Grammar, and a lot of living.

Virtual realities have been added to this booklet to support my granddaughters in seeing the way things were in the 20th Century, and how things are in the 21st Century.

For all the readers out there, please enjoy my life-in-verse poems. I have always loved my Metis Cree family, my Nisga’a family, and my Friends. It really is all about you and me living. For those that knew me before I lost my sight, here is another miracle, in my eyes you are “Forever Young”.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS – GOD SENT HIS ANGELS

Transcription of Poems – Juliette Robertson & Rodd Parnell(20) 1st Draft Table Contents & Booklet Compilation – Eva & Eric Clayton 2nd Draft Redress – CPP 3rd & Final Format, Design, Compilation, Desktop Publishing – CPP PHOTO USE CONTRIBUTIONS Charlie Plante, Joni Rice, Lorene Plante, Sonny Plante, Lana Plante, Peter Haugan, Brent Adams, Noah Guno, Caroline Parnell, Rodd Parnell, Jason Parnell, Gitlaxt’aamiks Smokehouse Crew, Terrace Standard, NSCU, Spectacularnwt.com, Wikipedia, CdnEncyclopedia.com, Advrider.com, Deep River Fur Farm, Royal Military College of Canada, 1st Peoples of Canada.com, Vimeo.com, TJS Brown, TJSwoodshop.com, Eric Clayton, Sherry Bejcar, Janelle Robinson, Michele Stevens, Juliette Robertson. CREE TRANSLATIONS

Noosimuk - Grandchildren Squee-sis – Baby Girl Mooshum – Grandfather Mee-Witch-Ski – Poopy Burn Nee-Chee-Wa-Gun – My Friend Kokum – Grandmother Koma – Great Grandmother

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1. The Valley In Peace (VIP)

The king sang about a valley Oh lord.

And there would be peace in that valley ...oh yes

Leave behind all of your sorrows.

Just unpack your trouble and clear out your stress,

This is where the sun often rises

And unzips the cold, darkened skies.

Revealing the awesome beauty of the Nass Valley

The indescribable sight for your mind and your eyes

The clear night stars twinkle until dawn

And the sun takes a long day to set.

A volcano eruption is a bad day here

No one around has had one of those yet.

Only the Nass River runs through the valley

The ancient volcano and lava beds stand on guard.

Some old logging roads still have wooden bridges

Lava and cedar built up by the yard.

It's now springtime and the village is busy

Just waiting for the salmon to arrive.

The boats and the gillnets are all ready

Then the river and the smokehouses all come alive.

The spectacular beauty of the mountains’ greenery

Goes on forever no matter where you glance.

It's all called Nisga'a by the local natives

In villages like Kincolith, Greenville,

Canyon City and New Aiyansh.

Huge totem poles stand high and proud

Teaching children their history,

With singing, drum dancing and their Crests

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The carvers, weavers and the smokehouses too

All work with fine cedar, considered the best.

This valley has nothing to get tired of

Nass Valley really is a peace of mind

You really don't need much around here.

It's like Elvis.... only one of a kind.

God blessed this place a Valley in Peace.

A place to set your mind back on reset

It's something you view in amazement

A place your heart will never forget. Eddy Boyie Plante February 2012, New Aiyansh, BC

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2. Mighty Eagles

We are the masters of our clear blue sky,

Never afraid of anything and never will be.

We fly with beauty and we fly with grace,

Patrolling the Nass Valley from forest to sea.

We watch the beaver building a fresh water dam,

Where the frogs now can have their outdoor pool.

While the killer whale is frolicking in the salt-water world,

The mighty eagle is patrolling so everything's cool.

The wolves, coyotes, foxes plus all the other animals

Howl and growl when the eagles fly by;

That's just their way of saying thank you,

Knowing that they're the best in the sky.

Nothing even comes close to this powerful bird –

There's nothing around to even try to compare.

The eagle is just one of a kind,

A true master of land, sea and air.

They donate delicate feathers to be used with honour,

Very important for Native regalia and Native dance.

Medicine men use them in many different ways;

They're very rare and collected at every chance.

Thank You Eagles! Eddy the Eagle November 22, 2011 Nass Valley

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3. Santa's Eagles Santa's sled is ready and packed really full.

His reindeer are harnessed up and ready to leave.

Everything is all set and just in time;

This happy trip is always made on Christmas Eve. This is where Santa's eagles come to help;

Their white feathers can be seen at night.

They fly ahead of Rudolph forming a straight white line

Making them visible for Rudolph's red-nose light. They leave the North Pole coming through the Northern Lights. With the eagles leading, Santa never gets lost.

The first stop is always the beautiful Nass Valley,

Pretty as a picture with moonbeams twinkling off the frost. The totem poles along the Nass River

Stand tall and strong this Christmas night

Using the night's stars as a button blanket,

With a headband formed by the Northern Lights. This is the home of the mighty eagles

Chosen by Santa to be the guide,

Delivering gifts all night long to everyone,

Not only here in the Nass Valley, but worldwide.

Thank you, Santa, Eagles and Rudolph.

Merry Christmas Everyone! Eddy the Eagle Nass Valley, 2011

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4. Eddy the Eagle

Chief Joe Gosnell and his beautiful sister, Matriarch Emma Nyce, Adopted me as their brother,

Welcoming me into their powerful Eagle clan

Where newborns inherit the clan of their mother. It's hard to describe this beautiful land

With lava beds scattered by the volcano,

With huge totem poles standing on guard

Never knowing when the volcano is going to blow. I'm proud to be adopted into this beautiful country;

Everything you need in life is all here.

Snow-capped mountains bring crystal clear drinking water­

Our Nass River is blessed with salmon each year. The hills and mountains have mushrooms and berries.

There are grizzlies, cougars, deer, moose and goat.

The Nisga'a calls their Nation the "Green Garden";

It’s here I hang my hat and my coat. Get online and google Joe Gosnell

And see what my bro Joe has done.

He's a doctor, lawyer, author and Indian Chief

Writing about the Nation they fought for and won. Thank you to the Nass Valley Eagle Clan.

My Nisga'a Indian name translated is;

"Man who is always fishing". Eddy Plante, September 2011, New Aiyansh, BC

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5. Rainbow and Squee-sis

Dearest Noosimuk, I love you both so much. This year your ages will be nine and one. Making these poems about our Cree history, Was so much pleasure and so much fun. Telling you about my past and growing up My tape recorder somehow became my grandchildren I could picture you girls sitting there beside me Listening to the stories and places I've been. Keeping quiet and listening, You kept me company for many years, And I'm slowly growing old There's no one else to tell you these stories Think of Mooshum when these pages you hold I was raised in my Northern Alberta country Now my ashes will lie in your Nisga'a land Your nation and clan, the Wolf and the Eagle, Will watch over me where the totem poles stand. I'm telling you a bit about the Nass Valley In case things change too much too fast­ The old days of my days are gone What's here today won't be in your past. When you finally get interested in these books, Mooshum probably won't remember his name. Just come and sit real close to me And read loudly to me just the same. Love forever, Mooshum. Eddy Boyie Plante, January 27, 2012

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6. Stone Moving

In this most beautiful Nass River Valley The Nisga'a people have their burial traditions. The pleasant part is the headstone moving­ The final step in the tribe's clan decision. The headstone is ordered after the burial Then rests on their front porch for a year. A date will be set for the moving and Surrounding villages are invited far and near. A medium-sized wagon is pulled by men; Women are washing down the heavy stone. It's brought to the gathering of the people Outside the unity pole, the public is shown. The house tribe hands out token gifts to everyone- Candy gifts and fruit honour their deceased. After speeches the stone is taken to its place Then everyone is welcomed to the evening feast. There's a small army of cooks and helpers; The traditional Nisga'a stew must be prepared. There's the gathering of the pots and ladles Cutting moose meat and veggies - much work to be shared. Too many cooks spoil the soup they say But these Nass River chefs are right on. There is never ever any stew left over; There is always enough and every drop is gone. They want you to eat three bowls full But two big bowls are more than enough. There must be something more than moose meat; It's seasoned with love -the really good stuff!

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Afterwards the tables are all cleared up­ There are a few speeches made for a while. There're suddenly many big gifts handed out, So many, so big, they make a pile. There are eiderdowns still zippered in their cases; There're towels, socks, cash, tools, and flashlights. The gifts are delivered to everyone's table This is one of Nisga'a's headstone feast nights. Eddy Boyie Plante January 13, 2011

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7. Prince Rupert All Native Tournament

Natives came and fought here for many centuries. The Skeena River was prized by many different bands; It's central for Alaska, Charlottes, South and up-river Many battles were lost and won for land. The battles today are now very different­ Natives still meet and battle to the end; They take on the best from every tribe When battling is over, they end as friends. Now the weapons have changed and so has time­ Basketball and skill now determines who's the best. Each village sends in their very top teams Then playoffs determine who's the best in the west. The biggest winner every year is Rupert­ The games bring in over a million dollars. All rooms, cafes, and bars are filled to capacity; Stores and taxis are happy, even the bingo callers. Everyone is at the arena where the games are played From early morning to very late at night. Regular foods and native foods are sold there­ Carved native jewelry for sale, shiny and bright. One week of cheering - celebrations and loss Cheerleading their teams in warm-ups, dancing all around. Young and pretty girls sitting there at courtside Watching the players bouncing the balls up and down. Finally a great week comes to an end And the winners get their trophies to keep. The champions are the same as last year- Once again, the Nass Valley made a clean sweep. Eddy Boyie Plante February 8, 2012

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8. Our Daughter, Lana Plante She's over forty now and never gives up- An all-star in any sporting event. She just got the 'player of the game' prize In the all-native tournament. She gave birth less than a year ago. Today in the arena they're walking side by side- Lana is showing her daughter Squee-sis around She's already faster than a swirly riptide. She's got big boots to fill but she will- If her mother ever gets to retire someday. Are old-age pensioners allowed to play basketball? Because Lana's not stopping till she's old and grey. You're number one to everyone! Mom and Dad Eddy Boyie Plante February 2012

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9. My Boy, Sonny Plante

I love you, my son, and even more every day. God gave you to me to love and to hold Since that very first day that you came, He gave me something more precious than gold. I tried many times to write something down But everything I wrote couldn’t get it right. I get the highest appreciation over you, my son. You have great manners, always complimentary And very polite. The greatest thing you’re good at is being a dad. You make me very proud of you, Sonny; You’ve got that touch most people wish they had. May God bless you and our family forever. I love you, son, for always, your Dad! Eddy Boyie Plante, Nass Valley, BC, 2013

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10. My Interpreter

I've been to many feasts here in Aiyansh­ You get to meet many people this way. You are always seated by rank and tribe Nothing's changed in a thousand years up to today. There are about eight people to each table, Tables that men and women don't share. Men and women do all the cooking And only pretty ladies serve everyone there. After being seated you chat with the group; I really enjoy meeting somebody new. I always ask the person sitting beside me If there are instructions, tell me what to do. All speeches are in the Nisga'a language Like when the opening prayer is going to start And if we ever have to stand I'll be ready to do my part. One evening a speaker came to the mike- I thought he's giving directions before prayer began. My neighbour and I just kept on talking Then all of a sudden everybody said, "Amen". I was absolutely caught with my pants down; For feeling stupid I really got first prize! I must have really got the finger From the rest of the other native guys. So I asked this guy sitting beside me Not understanding Nisga'a, "Are you from another clan?" Well I just about killed myself laughing When my interpreter said he was a white man. Well now that really takes the cake! I know the whole table had a big grin. You learn something new every day in life And new friends tonight I did win. Eddy Boyie Plante January 2011

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11. The Cougars

Cougars take good care of their young ones; They make sure they get everything they need. Their younger pups are always very well groomed; They're never without good life indeed. You ladies look after your boys very well, Trying hard to stay young to keep up: Lots of make-up to fill in your frowns, Getting hard to keep up with your pup. There's lots of wildlife in the Nass Valley; Most Cougars are right here in New Aiyansh. They are smooth Cougars under the wolves clothing; They get very lucky when given a chance. They should make a crest for the Cougar­ Older women are special queens of the hill. The Cougar Crest will have some gray hair, Being over the hill and off the pill. Never ask a woman if that's her nephew Because you don't know what Cougar Power is about... She'll just grab you by the friggen neck, Then swing and turn you inside out. Eddy the Eagle November 21, 2011

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12. The Smokehouse

Salmon season is here and so is the work; Salmon must be dressed, cleaned, smoked and dried. Many jars to be filled up and boiled - Salmon strips and chunks, freezer-wrapped to fry. The girls are busy and so are the flies; They get in your ears and in your eyes. You're swatting at flies and shaking your head, Getting a mosquito in your mouth is no surprise. It's hot in July and you cannot stop; Fish gets soft and mushy and spoil fast. Fish is never smoked in really hot weather; They cook and fall down -they don't last. Mid-twenty degrees is good for smoking salmon, Slowly smoking and drying is about the best. With the Sockeye here in the Nass River, Flows the cleanest unpolluted water in the West. Eddy the Eagle November 21, 2011, Nass River

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13. The Oolichans

It's early spring and the oolichans are running- Smoke houses are being prepared; people are getting ready, These oily little fish demand a lot of work; Birch is used and must be burning steady. The oolichans are delivered in bulging burlap sacks­ They're put into a tub to be washed and strained. They're washed and cleaned about seven different times, With boards stirring off the slime then drained. Later they're soaked in water and mixed in soya sauce; This gives that extra flavour once they're smoked. Two-foot-long cedar sticks are poked through the gills­ It's lots of work to clean, strain, drain, and poke. Mostly birch is used to smoke the oolichans­ The sugar in the sap helps give it its taste. After a couple of days in the smoke house They're so delicious and nothing goes to waste. This job is repeated a few more times Then enough is put away for next winter's supply. There's a lot of work involved in this process, But January without Oolichans- I would rather die! There are many ways to preserve the Oolichans, But most important is in the healthy oil- They're cooked in huge barrels and stirred constantly, Making sure they don't burn before they boil. The oil is skimmed off and put in gallons, Then stored or traded for the winter ahead. It's used most in fixing main meals, And can be stored outside in the shed. The Oolichans are a real Godsend to us, Like the first Spring blessing of the year; They never ever have let us down, You'd think Elvis arrived when the Oolichans get here! Eddy the Eagle, Nass Valley November 3, 2011

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14. Nass Valley Road­ Highway One Thirteen

Nass Valley Highway is beautiful and fully paved­ Building it took one hundred and thirteen years. It took negotiators in canoes to Victoria, B.C. 113 days through blood, sweat and fears. They fought for ownership in B.C. Supreme Court. This is Nisga'a land -there are no other ways - They sailed to England asking Her Majesty for help But politics were involved taking 113 days. Back in Canada, land claim courts were held­ Courts were held for 113 years. Meanwhile big companies were stripping the land bare; Money talks, but when natives complain, nobody hears. Land claims were won and they finally settled- Now Highway Number 113 enters the Nisga'a Nation. Approximately 113 kilometers from the Skeena River Nass River Camp is the final destination. This road is the artery to the Nisga'a- The people with big hearts and strong will Proud of the their native culture and their clans By holding hands, their dream they did fulfill. Eddy Boyie Plante November 13, 2012

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15. Crystal Beauty

Icicles gather along the frozen shore, Marking an even line between the river and snow. The sandbars and deadheads no longer can hide; The Nass River winter makes things low and slow. Ice from opposite shores reach out to one another, Hooking up for a long, slow, winter romance. A full moon is reflecting off the winter ice, As little snow devils twist, turn and dance. Winter is slowing arriving in the Nass Valley And changes of frozen beauty are taking place. Snow piles and cracks appear along the river banks, Huge ice sculptures hang down off the mountain face. Avalanches rush down the mountains making their marks, Etching out beautiful scenes in the soft high snow- Easily rearranging the rocks and the tree line And leaving their signatures piled up down below. Houses in the villages sit cozy and warm, Like gingerbread houses with icing thick and pretty. We enjoy this beauty; it's ours for life, There is no comparison in any country or city. This is our VIP- Valley in Peace! God blessed us with this land here this way. He kept the best part especially here for the Nisga'a. Knowing they would protect it, forever and a day. Eddy Boyie Plante, January 4, 2012

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16. I THANK YOU, NEE-CHEE-WAA-GUN

There are not enough stars in the night's sky To count the thank yous that I owe you. Your help in the past years, I truly appreciate­ You're a true friend and a guardian angel too. You make the pages really come to life With the pictures you add on that match Taking a simple poem I write, Making it look more interesting, Creating something from scratch. Thank you for all the time you put in And especially your patience for putting up with me. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You're God's little angel- that's one thing I can see, May God always bless and keep you, Juliette Robertson Sending out my poems from Mission Control in B.C. Eddy Boyie Plante, February 13, 2012

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17. What Resolutions? Well, Rudolph and Christmas just flew by­ Now New Year's resolutions have just begun So now I'm here thinking really hard Just like everyone else figuring which one. I've stopped smoking and also the drinking And I'm too dam slim to diet yet, I can't go to a gym or jog My breathing is too bad to even try it. I daily eat chocolate pop and junk food And everything that's fattening in every meal; My night table has jelly beans, peppermints and trail mix­ Three cokes a day is no big deal! One time last year I gained three and half pounds; I phoned my brother Charlie with excitement. He figured, well, what's the big deal? He can gain two pounds with one peppermint! I must be a boring old man... Weekend parties once were a piece a cake. Now that I'm in my golden years Wind is about all that I can break. Good luck and Happy New Year! Eddy Boyie Plante January 1, 2011

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18. Face To Face

I get up in the mornings And to the bathroom I will go; Sometimes I'll go fast And sometimes I'll go slow. I will wash my face And then look into the mirrors• I still see a young man Nothing's changed in all these years. I know things happen for a reason And me going blind was God sent; My friends are the ones that I pity What they see is all saggy and bent. I still see my jet black hair And my skin so smooth and tight; To me all my friends look this way Wrinkle-free and no hair turning white. Our young wide chests were big and strong Tapered down to our bums -real muscle bound; And now that we are slowly getting older We are somehow turning upside-down. Men and women now have two huge butts­ One in front, one in back, and some hang loose; Better check which way the shoes are pointing Before you sneak in that friendly goose.

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We find little tricks as we get older- Like first, putting your belt through the loop And going to the bathroom to sit down Then doing your laces or Velcro while you poop. We use a hair brush on our heads- A comb has more teeth than we have hair We brush our teeth under the tap Because in our mouth there's just hot air. Younger people never fart under the blanket­ They aim away, being polite and clever; But when you're 60ish and over You just tighten the blanket around your neck and say "WHATEVER!!" We're just slowing down and getting older­ Can't really go to work for a day's pay; That's why we're getting old-age pension Stay home and stay the hell away. Eddy Boyie Plante November Friday 13,2009 Port Edward, B.C.

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19. Mee-Witch-Ski Rodeo Calves are born in the very early spring And are kept in the barn with their mothers; The moms nurse and keep the newborns clean They're protected and kept safe from the others. When the first grass of spring finally arrives The cattle are all let out to roam. They go downhill towards the river Which is about three or four blocks from home. The first spring grass gives the cows diarrhea And that comes out like a watering hose. All of the cows have that yucky brownish tail; I'm sure it doesn't smell like a rose. Well now come the cowboys and the Indians But in Grouard, it's the Indian cowboys. We were about eight or ten years old; Spring means calf-riding and making a lot a noise. We go down to where they are grazing Chasing the calves to catch and to ride Your partners hold a calf, you jump aboard Get bucked off, into cow poop you will slide! Mee-witch-ski means a poopy burn Either for young children or animals too. It doesn't matter if it's wet or dry Or what it looks like ...it's still pooh! After our little rodeo we try cleaning up Using sand and grass and scraping with wood But mothers just know what you've been doing And give you lectures about treating animals 'good'. Well that's our first rodeo for the year- We had lots of ups and often down. I think the cows had the last laugh Our jeans looked like their tail -slippery brown. Metis Cowboy, Boyie Plante 2011

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20. Homework in Verse

I think the word homework has changed In our days homework was working; Nowadays you're kept inside for homework With computers and iPods fit for a king. In our days we weren't allowed inside Until all our work was done outside; There was wood to saw and chop Also keeping the toilet trail shovelled wide. Now they sit on padded computer seats With electric lights and TV's set low; Our coal oil lamps and blackened globes Weren't bright enough to cast a shadow. There's now TV stations of your choice Get bored- just move a mouse; When we got bored in one place We walked half a mile to the next house. The globes weren't washed very often They were expensive and easy to break; The lights they use for homework today To burn out, twenty years it would take. After homework was done we would visit­ Go visit friends who had a sister Now they text only with a finger Getting no smiles, no giggles, only a blister. We had homework seven days a week­ Also every day of the year; School holidays were just a different season

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It meant the summer jobs are here. The gardens now have to be planted; The rows are ploughed long and straight. You walk the rows spacing your spuds Pressing down firm making sure they take. They must be put in their place So they're spaced heel to toe; Maybe that's how they got their name From a spud to a po-ta-toe. When I was about five years old Mom gave me a stick for a measure; A red three-pound lard pail for spuds I measured and planted them all with pleasure. As I grew older measuring slowly changed­ Now it's step four fingers and place; As I got bigger so did the pail In a couple years I became an ace. For now that was it for spuds; Vegetable seeding was the next to come. Making small rows with garden hoe handles The patience for seeding was for mom. When the seed package was all emptied And the soil patted down neat and tidy, The colourful package came in handy­ It was staked there for future ID; Each veggie had its own little spot And finally the gardening was done. Now it's time for a little recess From gardening to swimming and a little fun.

Eddy Boyie Plante, 2007

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21. Rooski R.I.P.

We were each other's shadow; We were each other's light. Nothing ever got between Rooski and me We were like two magnets, solid and tight. A bond that lasted a life time was Something special which was really great. He was not just a special buddy- He was my shipmate and also my soul mate. We worked in the constructions together And both became skippers and fished the coastal tide. On the day he got married I was his best man standing right by his side. From our teens into our sixties We never once had a bad day; We were just like Siamese twins A double happy feeling in every way. Then at the last days of his life We bear-hugged and said our last goodbyes­ We both said "I love you, partner", As heartfelt tears filled our eyes. Rooski passed away at home peacefully With his music, family, and good friends. I will never forget our last October '08 Even in death our friendship never ends. Everyone just knew him as Rooski But George Auger was his legal name­ We knew each other as partner Two of a kind- we were exactly the same. Eddy Boyie Plante, Port Edward, B.C. April 4, 2009, Rooski's 65th Birthday

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22. Across the Track, Beach Front Property

Most all Metis' addresses were called 'Over there just across the track'; We never took a train home from town But crossed tracks going to and coming back. We lived on prime beach property Which was about 500 fathoms wide. Tarpaper shacks built with McRae's stolen lumber That we said we found, but they knew we lied. We lived across the track with no taxes or bills to pay. We had the first running water in Faust; With full pails, you ran all the way. Homelessness was never ever heard of; For the Metis hunting and fishing was fine; They really put us right in line- between the rail line, The shore line, and under the poverty line. Well, that's been over 50 years ago And how time has turned things around- White people are buying up expensive beach property; The Indians all have nice houses in town. Now the waterfront has hundreds of trailers Where once there were only tar paper shacks. They're built so darn close together, They look like boxcars on railroad tracks. Yeah, it really looks quite different now With electric lights and high power poles With big new cars parked outside While barbecuing right over our old toilet holes.

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Even commercial fishing has changed a lot; From gillnetters, they've now become hookers. They caught and sold their fish before; Now they're caught and only used as cookers. Time goes by and things do change- Not much left there from the old days- New faces, new places, a real different life- New streets, new avenues, new highways. One great thing about coming from Faust Is that we knew just about everyone. Now when we meet 50 years later, All we remember is nothing but fun. Eddy Boyie Plante March 29, 2009 Port Edward, B.C.

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23. NOW JOBLESS I'm making my job story really short A long boring story there's nothing worse So I'm making this story really short That's why I'm writing it in a verse. We worked for our parents for room and board Not much space for our room Working too hard to get bored. We fished in N.W.T. and most Alberta lakes. We fished in the Great Slave Lake That was both winter and summer My wages were 150 dollars a month No fish, no wages, it was a bummer.

We worked very hard out of Hay River. It stayed daylight 24 hours a day It was like picking cotton in Alabama We got very little or no pay.

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We worked long and hard hours Every day was a tough heavy lift With little education we had no choice A strong back was our Lord's gift. After hauling and setting nets all day You deliver your catch to the barge: Mostly white fish, jack fish, pickerel and trout At 12 cents a pound, or 14 for large. About 40 boxes a day is good fishing Each box holds fifty pounds including ice Next comes cleaning the darn fish Now every fish is checked and sliced. First we ice up with fresh boxes Must get ready for the following morning And yet we do pray out there Like "God give us a gale warning". There're times someone will have a toothache Then get on the packer for town Then accidently miss the packer coming back And forced some extra days to wait around. I know someone who did just that But I'm not going to mention my name We all knew everyone did that It was just part of the game. There were no bathrooms on the boats The weather had us in total control A good day was sitting on the gunnels Better than a five-gallon can toilet bowl. September 15th was the late closing date Everyone said their goodbyes and parted Everyone is in a hurry to get home That's when the duck season got started. I'm 16 and on the train to B.C. Uncle Dan in Chetwynd owns a sawmill Everything to me now is brand new Man, what an excitement! What a thrill!

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It was a very small bush camp The logging part was done by horse But hey I just came from Grouard I just fit right in there, of course. Horses skid out logs to the landing One or two logs with each trip Then a sled team would come to load up Carefully placing each log so not to tip. They could load ten or twelve logs It was a very heavy haul Each trip was always a big danger One misjudgment then everything could fall.

Skid horses obeyed the handler's vocal command Turn right for gee, left is haw Those horses were smarter than the men They figured out things you never saw. I spent most times in the mill A new job where you never sit Mornings I'd get a big fire started Where I'd throw slabs into the pit. Sometimes it could get real darn smokey When the breeze is coming your way Sparks will burn holes in your clothes I'm now learning to earn my pay. We come to town every weekend This is better than going to school I can only go into the cafe You must be eighteen to play pool.

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Cree was spoken in and around Chetwynd So with the locals I did roam Now I lived in a lumber camp One big province away from home. There's a long winter now ahead of me And it is a real noisy show Frozen sawdust just pelts your face And the logs are covered in snow. It's dark when you start your work And it's dark when the shift is done The whining, screaming saws are noisy Hand signals, no talking, is no fun. Our bunkhouses all have air-tight heaters The cookhouse supplies a pail of water The pail already supplies the cold water For hot just get the heater hotter. At bedtime it’s the real survivor's test It's also the true test of skill Feeding the fire at night is someone's job The one with skinny blankets always will. The bunk houses never had any power It was lamp or lantern for light. We kept that woodstove so darn full That's why they called it an airtight. Well I survived my first winter away But I learned lots and had fun. It will be nice in familiar country Wherever you go you know someone. It's spring time now here in Chetwynd. Like the snow I didn't stick around. And just like John Wayne once said "Let's just get the hell out of town". That summer I’m back in Hay River Not to fish but to work on shore. I worked for a fish-packing company At least here I could earn much more.

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We started working on the fish boats Scraping off old paint, sand and dirt Using an old antique gas blowtorch Pumping in air pressure till your thumbs hurt. It must weigh five pounds when full It's a long day to pack it around Shipwrights repair and cock up the machines Newly painted then they're all fishing bound. When the pack ice moves out some distance The fleet races out for their set. The ice will move back and forth Keeping the fishermen jittery you can bet. Nothing is safe from this moving ice It's an awesome-looking, great white pack If your gear gets totally covered You'd be lucky to get something back.

For three weeks the fish are delivered locally The dressing shed is at the end of the dock It seems like there’s just no end Luckily it’s daylight right around the clock. The icehouse is filled with block ice Which is now crushed for the fleet Ice tongs are used pulling blocks around Your boots are fitted with ice cleats.

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A hundred fish boxfuls are crushed today All filled with a shovel by hand Then it's delivered down to the dock The boats get all they demand. Later on fish barges are towed out Closer to the fleet in some inlet; The fish there will be processed daily There're loads their packers will get. We unload packers into refrigerated trailers The packers are restocked with ice and supplies Fuelling is over and maintenance is done The trip is finished, it's time for goodbyes. It's snow; September, the season is over It's hunting time not only for duck My '48 Ford froze up last winter I hunted down a '51 Chevy truck. I used my truck for fall fishing And went around fishing small Alberta lakes Fishing was only 3 days each lake Cash for fish was all we take. Well, here comes the winter once again. I'll probably go back to Uncle Dan's mill But going back with wheels this time Having more fun, I know I will. Another early spring and pickerel are spawning Right outside my doorstep in Buffalo Bay Pickerel are the very most expensive fish When the sun shines, make a little hay. My partner and I have some nets So we fish together until one day A forest fire had just got started Close by and not too far away. The fisheries ordered us, "Get your nets" Everyone must haul in their gear The fire was now getting really wild And moving in mighty close to here.

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They helicoptered us out to the camp Where tents and few gear were supplied There're 4-gallon backpacks called way jacks They’re just super soakers with a different name. It might work on the birthday candles There's no way I'm dousing this flame. Our way jack now became our fridge Juice cans in water were kept cool. So we turned it into a picnic: Big lunches, cool drinks, no union rule. Later they brought us back to Faust And told us that we were on standby. My friend said he was going to Rupert I said "me too", forest fire- bye bye. The only thing good about Prince Rupert Was a beautiful trip going down there. I finally crossed the Rocky Mountains But what came next I wasn't aware.

Coast fishing was so absolutely different Nothing there was even close to the same. It was like talking to a foreigner Pointing at something with a very funny name. For a greenhorn, finding a job is hard; The fishing unions were really very strong. You just can't go fire a man Unless he's done something awfully wrong.

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Sometimes a boat would have an empty bunk Then I would go out and work free. I was learning to fish the Coast This was where I wanted to be. Sometimes there were some real hungry days Waiting for the fleet to return. Down at the wharf, I met Rooski Also looking for a job I would learn. We were happy when the fleet arrived Married men left us an empty bed. Now we had a home for awhile Even some cigarettes and being well-fed. We helped overhauling the big seines And asked about things we didn't understand. Every weekend we walked around the harbour Asking if anyone needed a deckhand. Many times we were left on shore And slept in cars to keep dry. That was our routine for the summer All we did was try, try, try. Some weeks when we'd go out fishing And the crew got a very good share, They would all chip in a few dollars Crew members make sure things are fair. We both never got work that summer But learned a lot about the trade. This really is not what I expected I thought by now I'd have it made. It was a great trip coming down here But going home broke is the worst. Every fall it was special for duck hunting Job hunting this fall is my first. I found myself a fall job I fished with my dad through December Then went to Prince George looking for work There, working camps were in great number.

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Well we must have made a good impression Because a job offer came our way. The boats were not the same company That didn't matter, we were in to stay. My job was on the seiner Mohawk Fished all summer tying up in Sechelt Dwayne, my deck buddy, and I Were welcomed just like back home we felt.

When we finally got our fishing settlement We went to Vancouver and bought cars I got a '56 Monarch hard top With dual Hollywood mufflers, a real superstar. We got jobs planting trees around Sechelt Then long shoring at Port Mellon Cellonese We were doing pretty dam good down here Not bad for a couple of Faust, Alberta, Crees. We moved right into the village We were now one of the boys We had ourselves a great time - Fast cars, slow women and lots of noise. Finally the village and cops had enough of us. After chopping the soccer field flagpole down The village people and RCMP Kicked us right the hell out of town.

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I just turned 19 and now it's November. Dwayne's mom and dad had a mink farm; It just happened to be pelting time And I'll try pelting, there's no harm. There's just one drawback about pelting mink Your friends won't even stand near you. They'll talk to you from arm’s length Any closer than that is phew!

The mink smell sticks around for a while But pelting time Faust smells like mink They just call it the money smell They don't even know that they stink. Well now another winter in Prince George Working with the sawyer controlling each log; You place things just where he wants When he's ready, you set the dog. It's spring and Rupert here I am Fishing on a boat that's a high liner. My dream has finally come true; There is nothing that could make this finer. I was guaranteed a job every summer There's no way to beat this gig. I spent the last two winters inland Working both provinces on an oil rig. It's noisy working in the oil patch. Everything is moving if it's not shaking, Mud, steam, water and ice, you just name it Messy job for the small hole they’re making.

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Sometimes we work in for a month It's a closed site where we now drill There're even spies out there with binoculars Hiding in the bush on the hill.

Well, I just made up my mind Life is just too short for me. I am going to make a move To the west coast, Prince Rupert, B.C. A lot of fishermen were loggers I just loved the stories they told. I thought I'd like to try it Before I get too darn old. The Queen Charlotte Haida are friendly people And my friends invited me over to try. I figured this is a great chance "Let's go, partner, it's do or die". This is logging with a steel spar Huge pulleys with long thick steel cable Nothing like Uncle Dan's little skid horses Climbing this hill they wouldn't be able.

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My job there was doing the choking­ That's making a cable loop around the tree. Then a few trees are pulled uphill To be stacked and the cables set free. It was after the winter herring season When I went logging that early spring Forgetting about the rain, wind and fog That this time of year would bring. We packed up big lunches to work With muddy hands our sandwiches we gripped So they showed me just what to do You eat all around your fingertips. Finally I knew each type of tree, The logging slang and working part But I'd rather be on the boat It's almost May and halibut will start. The years were flying by real fast Making big money, couldn't ask for more. A convertible was always my dream car so I bought one off the showroom floor. Man now I really had it made; I'm cruising in a Ford Ltd. People probably thought I stole the car But it was really me at twenty-three. Next spring a skipper's job was offered me; I really didn't know what to do, Getting off this money-making high line boat To captain an old boat and new crew. MV Holly L was my first command And three more followed through the years. The big circle now a greenhorn skipper Hitting rocks, logs, sandbars and wharf piers. Between seasons I worked in the net loft Being skipper I bought my own net. We net owners would hire each other This job is getting much better yet.

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I skippered the whole B.C. coast From Alaska down to Washington state. I circled the Queen Charlottes and Vancouver Isle I kept all boats afloat and running That's worth a pat and a smile.

I was almost 25 when I married; We got a little apartment downtown. Now I had to work onshore The winter herring fisheries totally shut down. My logging job now came in handy. I got a job sorting logs in Rupert It's just a 20- minute boat ride Walking on logs and pushing them won't hurt. We wore life jackets and spiked boots Sorting the logs into a different pocket. Later I got promoted into a sidewinder Man, that little boat was a rocket. It's a ten foot steel diesel-powered boat With a direct propeller almost at midship The steering wheel and propeller move as one Rock and roll and just don't slip. While salmon fishing I became a scuba diver. I had a wet and a dry suit; It was very convenient to have around Making many dives, extra money to boot.

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Many things can get tangled in the propeller Beach line, cork line, even your own net. I cleared off a lot of propellers And never once split a lead line yet. The next winter I now became a bartender With manners, with smiles and the jokes. I bought cigarettes with my starting float Tips that night barely paid my smokes. Things were slowing down in Prince Rupert Wintertime, now things were getting quiet. There're not many customers any more No work, no money to buy it. Well, bartending was not it for me. There's something better out there, no doubt Wearing a white shirt with my dark face Looking like a tent with stove pipe sticking out. From Kodiak, Alaska, we fished out halibut; This was the last year for Canadian fishermen So all went westward for the final year Wanting to see where our fleet has been.

Travelling to Kodiak is a long trip You're running full bore day and night Lots of everything Even glaciers in site. But halibut fishing is still the same We delivered in Seward after every trip. After delivery we flew home to Rupert It's cheaper than travelling back by ship.

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It's summer now we start the salmon season. There's a new greenhorn skipper this year; I was first to shake his hand Sharing a drink with Captain Rooski. Now this winter I'm driving a taxi; No white shirts while walking all day. It's kind of nice just driving around town And listening to people having their say. Many times I forgot about the meter Forgetting to tum it off or on, Just sitting there with the meter still running All alone with my passengers all gone. Many times I would get a trip And forget to put my meter down Then maybe told about it Over half way into town. The next winter I joined a labour union There's lots of construction starting here. I did construction for over twenty years Much better than taxiing or slinging beers. Now I'm forty-three and have cataracts; I'll get my operations in Prince Rupert. I'll be in there for two nights; It's a delicate operation but don't hurt. That was the start of the end! Both eye operations have very badly failed I felt like a huge train wreck The whole world has now derailed. I went through 19 eye operations There was just nothing they could save So now my working days are over I'll take my blindness to my grave. It's the not working part that hurts And not being part of a crew; I see how lucky I really am- There's really not very much I can't do.

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I'm only blind in the day time We all go to sleep at night. A power failure is no big deal I don't need lights to get around. Hey, remember I got here from Grouard There wasn't one light bulb in town. So then I took up ham radio And took classes with my tape recorder. Now I have license for life And talk to anyone on earth. Why don't you call me sometime? My handle is ve7kre. I'm now getting too old for everything; I guess I'm now called a retiree. Eddie Boyie Plante, September 7, 2010, Nass Valley, BC

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24. My Parrot I just lost a dear friend here lately; We've been together for over 20 some years. He was there when I needed him- When I talked, he was all ears. He heard many stories of my life Right from childhood to being a grandpa; Also, most of the jobs I ever had Bending some rules almost breaking the law. A few times he made me laugh... Of course I heard those jokes before. But the stories brought back good memories Without his help it's hard to do more. It's tough replacing a dear old friend­ New ones take time to get used to. The old buddies are always the best; They are with you whatever you do. I phoned everywhere to find a replacement. My last hope is across the border- My parrot's gone from rust to dust; I will always remember my faithful tape recorder. Eddy Boyie Plante November 2010

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25. My Real "Mary” Christmas

Even Santa at Christmas wasn't as exciting As Christmas baking with my mother Mary, The thrill of making that 3-layer cake With lots of fruit and topped with a big cherry. I was the chief second cook So I gave everything the chief second taste. There were never ever any leftovers; I made sure nothing went to waste. The cakes are now in the oven; A stick holds the oven door shut tight. I miss the smell of Christmas cake cooking And the lingering aroma as they cool at night. My mother Mary was a master with icing. The cake looked prettier than the royal crown Standing straight and white as a sculpture With glittering, coloured gems placed neatly around. Mom sits down for her final inspection That beautiful look of approval As she's turning her cake around. It's that beautiful picture of approval That no camera can truly ever take.

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The icing bowl just fits around my bannock face So I dove in like a washing machine. My puppy was glad my whole face was sticky So then he'd lick me spotlessly clean. To all the old people who are now in their 60's And made their icing right from scratch, Mom and I wish you all a Merry "Mary" Christmas! Those great old memories will just never ever be matched. Eddy Boyie Plante December 20, 2009

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26. Our Very Merry Christmas A lot of snow with a little ‘Raine’ What a Christmas this is going to be! It’s our first year with our granddaughter And what a present this is for me. I’ve always dreamed about having this Christmas; I thank you God for making it come true- This one is not a blue, blue Christmas; This one’s the brightest rainbow through and through. Most people want snow for their holidays But our Raine is more precious than gold- To hug her at Christmas is our love story; She’s the Christmas star we get to hold. Our son’s daughter Raine is my only grandchild But this time next year I might have two- Our daughter is expecting her first child Because in February, with God’s blessings, she’s due. From our family, Merry Christmas to you all and God Bless! Eddy Boyie Plante December 25, 2010

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27. Happy Birthday Nee-Chee-Waa-Gun!

For my greatest, dearest, special friend, You are turning 70, I was told. You were 40ish when we were neighbours, Holy Crap! You’re getting freakin’ old. Cheers, Eddy

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28. Doggone Mike Grendler

Halibut fishing is tough, long hard days. You work like a dog, not much fun. On one halibut season, Mike was our cook. For a joke, he fed us like one. He snuck aboard a can of dog food Then one day he made sandwiches and soup. He was all smiles and giggling loudly Yelling "Soups on", while calling in the group. Taking turns, one or two men usually ate While Mike the cook would take their place. Hot soup and the sandwiches were just great! Mike's giggling, just couldn't keep a straight face. Taped above the galley door was Mike's evidence ­ A wrapper from the Rover dog food can. All the sandwiches were made from dog food. Now Mike the cook was a marked man. There was nothing we could do while working So we waited till we delivered in town. After delivering and scrubbing down the boat All the crew was on deck just waiting around.

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The boat was docked by the Co-op cannery; The water was bloody and slimy all over. Mike was 'sauved up' and dressed to kill We threw him over board- that's one for Rover. I think he almost had a heart attack But boy, did he ever make our day! His Rover chuckle and grin completely disappeared; Mike knew we couldn't let him get away. This all happened on MV Snowdrift. Humour on a halibut trip was good medicine: Mike laughed at us while we were out But we laughed louder while throwing him in. Eddie Boyie Plante January 2011

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29. Our Summertime Summertime sounds like it's fun everyday But that's when things grow really fast; Gooseberries and saskatoons blossom really early If not picked early, they don't last. You kneel down to pick the gooseberries Holding the branch high as you pick; Each branch has thousands of sharp needles Picking five berries gives you ten needle pricks. This was a special job for me; My great grandmother Koma had a tin cup. I went gooseberry picking for her everyday Always having our tin cup filled up

I got my reward from her sweater pocket­ Inside were peppermints -kind of our secret deal; So one small handful of these peppermints The more I ate the better I'd feel. She turned me into a peppermint junky Even today at 69 I'm still a user. Maybe it's a good thing she didn't drink Then I would also be a boozer. Saskatoons were next in line for picking; From now on canning came into play. That small red lard pail was tied on Around our waist where it dangled all day. Saskatoon trees can get quite high. There are ways to bring it down­ Grab a branch and then bend it Or climb it and ride it to the ground.

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Then it's two handfuls for the picker And one for the little red pail; Later on it's one for the picker And two for the little red pail. A while later it's an even tie Both the picker and the red pail are full; Time to empty this over-flowing pail No falling now; must be careful. Saskatoon picking fills your pail really fast Picked by the handfuls and they're clean; They're not sticky and always stay dry Some women work like a picking machine.

Practically everyone has a pan full on the table- Just grab a handful while walking by. While stopping in for a little visit Self-service, you are expected to, that's why. Every spring all kids have purple lips Saskatoons have no seeds to choke on- Fill your jacket pockets and munch away A refill is always handy when they're gone. My mother Mary always made my favourites- Fried saskatoons in bacon grease with syrup. She made this special treat for me It was awesome, right to the very last slurp. I tried making some after mom passed; There was always something missing or too much But I knew deep in my heart Missing was mom's love and special touch.

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Well now this is really not fair; We just got through the saskatoon pick And now the two gardens that we planted Their weeds are coming out really thick. Mom wouldn't let me weed the vegetables; Once I got started I couldn't stop. She said I was just too young Not knowing weeds from a carrot top. The evening fire attracts all the bugs So smudges might help us, we hope; That was the only thing we had There's no such thing as mosquito dope. There's one good thing about being Metis: They never leave home without their guitars Just like an old Roy Rogers movie Singing by a campfire under twinkling stars.

The mornings were busier than a beehive­ Everyone was eating or washing up; Mom washed my face with cold water Which made me whine like a little pup. The men had two big fires going With poles set for cooking pots. To feed four families and the kids The moms will have to cook lots. Boiling black coffee and hard boiled eggs For the adults, that's what it takes. But us kids had some hot tea With a piece of bannock or corn flakes.

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There was always dried moose meat around I guess that was our energy bar It's always been our in-between snack If you got hungry- camp wasn't far. Well it seems like everything we brought That had some size hole in it Was chucked full and packed with berries We had a full load plus a bit. I was getting tired of berries now And the ducks and ducklings were heading south. I think I'll just wait until winter Before putting another berry in my mouth. Well school days are finally here; So is digging and filling up the potato shack. They will be taken to the house where, In a dry place, they'll be stacked.

We prepare our harvest for storage; The cellar is lined with dry hay Putting away as much as we can For the winter, our vegetables will lay. There was a trap door underneath our table; I thought that was pretty dam neat. We had ourselves a mini-Safeway Right here in Grouard right beneath our feet. Well, that was a real great summer break. That wasn't work; that was great fun! I wonder what I'll use next summer- Our pail measuring two fingers or one?

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I'm excited our school year has begun New kids, new teacher and new clothes. Gone are the days of picking berries Picking weeds and planting spuds in rows. The one thing about school in Grouard Was that you learn the golden rule: We are never given work to take home­ There's enough at home right after school.

She put me to work with spuds- Weeding and tilling just wasn't a joke. Thistles and hay and spiders and lady bugs All the wrong weeds you couldn't smoke. It was a long slow delicate job And I think mom kinda fired me; I was doing more damage than good­ Weeds stood where carrot tops should be. Evenings were down the hill to the river Which was only two long blocks away; It was either to swim or fish Maybe we'll just do both today. A ball of twine was our fishing gear With a spinner and a rock for weight; Just twirl it around your head like a lasso Then let it go with coloured feathers for bait.

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It didn't take long to catch fish We'd catch half a dozen then drag them up hill They'd get fully covered with dust and grass Hard to find the tail or the gill. But they sure tasted good next day. Then down to the river to swim across Swimming across the river was awesome We're now the bigger kids, the boss. And now all the berries are ripe­ Time to tie on the red pail. Just like an old time sailing ship Berries are ripe - time to set sail. Now we're going berry-picking full bore; We really have ourselves a convoy. We're told we're going on a picnic. We're all jumping with joy. Boy-0-Boy! We have three sometimes four wagons Each filled with kids, women, and supplies. A team of horses pulls each wagon And each wagon has a couple of guys. We travel for about three long hours Then stop to set up our tents; For us kids it wasn't soon enough We wanted out of this wooden fence. This was a real truly working picnic­ All kinds of different berries were here; Everybody was out picking all day Mothers made sure children were near. There were high bush and low bush cranberries, Blueberry, raspberry and choke cherry; They were all there and were ready To pick as much as you can carry. Evenings was the time to clean them Watching them clean cranberries was fun; They put a pail full on a blanket Then tossed high and catching everyone.

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They do that three or four times And the breeze blows away the dirt; Low bush cranberries are real tough Getting tossed around, they never get hurt. Men watch the horses and built fires Women cook the meal of the day; Water is boiled in little red pails; Potatoes cook in hot coals and clay. Blankets are spread out on the grass. The elders have their bannock and tea; The kids might get some Kool-Aid While elders drum and sing in Cree. Eddy Boyie Plante, 2007

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30. The Final Chapter

Just lately I feel my life really is complete – With our Lord's help I'm seventy-one this year. I've had two children; now both are parents and Mooshum knows these babies have nothing to fear. While hugging and kissing Raine and Kiana, My eyes and heart tear with happiness and fulfillment Like the last page of a great book A lifetime of special parental love and endearment The unforgettable feeling of fatherhood just overwhelmed me Sitting with my two children and two grandchildren. There's nothing in this world to top this- Just hearing the baby cry was a win-win. I can rest in peace whenever God wishes And thank him for giving me this day. And to all you lucky Mooshums and Kokums: There's more than bingo tonight around Buffalo Bay! Eddy Boyie Plante, 2012

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