“We had a militia unit back home. My uncle came through the door and he was in uniform. He had just finished his training. I saw him and I said “Mom, I'm joining the army.” I was about this high, five years old. And seventeen years later, I joined the Canadian Army…I’m an Aboriginal Veteran.

“Back when we weren’t allowed to shoot back, I did two UN Peacekeeping tours in the 70s, one in Cyprus, one in Egypt. Here were the Greeks, here were the Turks. I [was in] the middle saying, “Now girls, let’s not go to war.” While I served in 1972 to 1978, we were protecting the government that was doing residential schools at the time. A lot of my brothers and sisters and veterans were going “This isn't why we joined–to defend Canada. You send us overseas against governments that are doing what [Canada]’s doing to their own people.” So they’re mad. And while veterans, men and women, were fighting overseas in World War I, World War II, and the Korean War, their children were being taken away to residential schools–while they were dying for Canada.

“I did my five years but my drinking got really bad so my colonel said, “Next time you’re in front of me, I’m going to jail. You sign this piece of paper, you get an honourable discharge. Next time, it’ll be dishonourable.” I did my five years, signed a piece of paper and got an honourable discharge. I don’t blame the army. They provided the beer but they didn’t make me drink it. I did.

“Physical abuse. Drunken relatives. That's what's helped me into being an alcoholic. We had some good times, but it was really rough. Being in a redneck, oil rig, farming community, it got pretty interesting going to school. All I can remember is being the only Native person in the school. But I made good friends. It was rough, but not as rough as the residential schools. I’m an escapee from the residential schools. Mom and dad – George and Ann – moved there from West Lake in Grand Prairie Alberta in 1952. They weren't taking kids in the city so me and my four other brothers and sisters that went to residential school, we moved there.

“I went 40 years being a drunk and I realised that if I keep doing this, I’m gonna be dead in a year. Not because of alcohol, but because the streets were getting really rough. I never drank in Vancouver. Drank all over else. So I took a Greyhound across and moved here. Sobered up in 1990, and I went to the Carnegie Centre when they still had Powwow practice there, that’s the life. Married for 20 years. She grew up near Williams Lake. She made me who I am today. Beautiful. She was a traditional dancer. She walked all over Vancouver unless there were snow drifts this high and rain this high. She out-danced kids your age. She had a smile on her, a special smile and if you got that, you did good. She had a strong heart but the electrical part wasn’t working and that’s what happened. I still miss her. One of these days, I’ll be going home to my family. I miss Grand Prairie.

“I look at kids nowadays, my great grandson, and I’m going “If I ever did what you’re doing to my son and my daughter-in-law, I’d be dead! Mom would’ve killed me!” We operated under a three strike rule. Third strike, there’d be a belt. You’d be disciplined, but you wouldn’t be abused. And mom said, “If you don’t like it, don’t do it!” Dad just said “Don’t get caught” and we liked him, and he got clobbered by my mom too. Discipline is discipline. You don’t have to spank ‘em type of thing.

“It was a rough life, but I still had a lot of good memories of when I was brought up. I learnt from my grandpa and grandma, my mom and dad. What they taught me – love, peace, understanding, and how to defend yourself – made me survive into what I am today.

“I learnt that I no longer have to hold my feelings on my own, I’ve learnt to reach out for help. I’m an Irish, Cree boy and Albertan and we’re very stubborn so it took me a while to realise I don’t have to do this by myself. To anyone, no matter how old, don’t fight it on your own. Look for help. And eventually, it will come out where you’re doing, you can help someone. And you don’t realise you’re helping someone. You don’t have to say it.”