Keeper'n Me (16 page)

“Jackie was the spokesman. Good speaker. Made it all make sense for them reporters who never understood anythin' about Indians before. Made them cops an' army guys back right off too. All that anger was right up front with him an' it served the people well that time.

“We stayed in the park all that summer an' when we fin'lly got a promise that the people would be compensated we came out. Never fired a shot but got what we wanted. Jackie an' three others got arrested but no one went to jail. Too much newspaper coverage by then.

“Mosta us just went back into our lives but Jackie kept on goin'. He went to the States an' hooked up with
AIM
an' traveled all around doin' things with them. When he came back here he didn't talk too much about it but he was even stronger in pushin' for
Indian ways in ev'rythin'.
AIM
kinda died out after a while, but Jackie's still got all that stuff inside him. Strong Indian. So seein' you around here again reminds him of all that, all the hurt he felt, all the stuff that never got resolved despite
AIM
, all the personal stuff, an' I think it gets all that anger stirrin' around in him again. Only this time there's no place to put it an' I think that scares him some.”

“Sure don't seem all too scared to me,” I said, wondering how the hell I coulda missed out on hearing about this when it was happening.

“Gotta lotta the bear in him, like I said. Bear's a good warrior. Doesn't show fear. But the bear learns how to live with it though, an' that's what Jackie never learned. How to live with it.”

Summer turned over slowly into autumn and before we knew it we could feel the chill of that winter easing into our mornings. Around here the seasons changing are so gradual you gotta learn to feel them before you ever see them. The grass gets a different texture when you're walking on it and the lake gets itself a slightly sharper edge when it sloshes up on your hands as you're filling up that lard pail with the day's water. The air doesn't move so much and you start to hear things a whole lot better, especially in the early mornings. Keeper says the winter months are special on accounta that's when the old stories are told. Once those “long snow moons” arrive the elders in those old tribal days would gather
the people around a fire and tell them stories long into the night sometimes.

Keeper says there's two reasons why stories are told only in the winter months. One was on accounta the spirits of the world get kinda sleepy then too and some of them drop right off into slumberland. So if someone was telling a story about bad spirits, they wouldn't overhear and maybe get offended and want some revenge or something. The other reason was on accounta the people. See, winter being such a brutal time in this country, all cold and windy for about six months, sometimes getting down to thirty below for weeks at a time, there wasn't lots for the people to do. Couldn't hunt real good and too cold for the kids to play, so they could give all their attention to the stories. Elders knew that trying to get our people to listen to stories and the teachings within them was next to impossible in the summers when there was all kindsa other distractions. See, the important thing about our stories isn't so much the listening, it's the time you spend thinking about them. There's lots of traditional thinking buried deep within each story and the longer you spend thinking about it the more you learn about yourself, your people and the Indian way.

Anyway, winter slid in pretty easy that first year. Ma'n me got a lotta meat from people on accounta I was no screaming hell at hunting yet, and we got Big Ed to freeze most of it in the big locker he kept at the back of his store. Stanley, Jane'n me and our uncles
went picking wild rice and got enough for the winter for everybody. All around the reserve people were getting ready for the long snow moons that were looming up big and cold and powerful on the other side of the horizon.

I was over visiting Keeper one day just after the first snow flew and he was asking me whether things had gotten any better between Jackie'n me.

“Not really,” I said. “He don't come around Ma's so much and never tries to talk to me.”

“Hmmpfh,” Keeper said, lighting up his pipe. “Hmmpfh. Gotta lotta the bear in him, that Jackie. Gotta lotta the bear in him. So I guess you kinda need to use a little of the bear to get his attention back. Sounds like a bear thing to me.”

“Whaddaya mean, bear thing? Jane said that too. What do you want me to do, hibernate with him?” I get a little irked at the way Indians will lay something out there like this “bear thing” and then not explain. I've learned since that it's just the way they get your attention when they wanna lay something important on you, but it still irked me some.

Keeper banged the ash from his pipe into the garbage can. “Us humans, we're not born with the same kinda gifts the animals got. Sure, us we got lotsa things they don't too but they come out ahead in a big way. See, animals got a better deal on accounta they're born knowin' exactly who an' what they are. Us we gotta search for that. Bear comes out into the world jus' knowin' it's a
bear. Fox same thing. Rabbit same thing. I been around a long time an' never seen no erotic bear.”

“Erotic?”

“Yeah, you know, confused like.”

“No, no, no, no,” I said, laughing and putting my hand on his shoulder. “Neurotic. Erotic means horny all the time. Neurotic means confused.”

“Oh,” Keeper said, laughing pretty good too now. “In that case I have seen a few erotic bears! Fact, I guess I been kinda new-rotic 'bout bein' erotic too a few times! Heh, heh, heh.”

It took a while for us to settle down.

“See,” he finally continued, “animals right off know who an' what they are. So the old people knew this an' started watchin' the animal people to learn from 'em. That's where big parta the Indyun way comes from. From the animal people. Another big part comes from the plant people an' rock people but that's another story. Us we get to know we're human bein's after a while. Know pretty soon we're boys or girls, maybe even know lots 'bout our fam'ly tree. Still, takes us long time before we find the truth about who we are. You know this good already on accounta comin' back here an' all. But us we all gotta search out our own truth an' find our own life.

“Someday you watch bears. Never no trouble gettin' along in the bear fam'ly. Wrassle lots, growl around too, but always close an' lovin' with each other. Mother bear teaches them young ones an' they learn. No big fuss, jus'
bear learnin'. You gotta be same way now. Gotta be like bears an' play.”

“Play?
Play?”

“Bears they play lots. You watch 'em, you'll see. Play lots. Mama bear knows that gettin' the attention of them cubs gonna be tough. So when she wants to teach 'em how bears should be she makes up a game. You watch how she teaches 'em to hunt. She'll take 'em to a big meadow an' start to gallopin' around after mice. When she catches one she'll give it to the cubs an' run off to gallop around some more, really playin' up the fun of it. Well, pretty soon them cubs get to likin' the taste of mice an' bein' cubs they take natchrel to all the runnin' an' gallopin' around. Pretty soon they're out there chasin' them mice an' not even knowin' that they just learned somethin' that'll keep 'em alive forever.

“Same way with you an' that brother of yours that's got a lotta the bear in him. It's gonna take playin' to get through.”

“Okay, but play what?” I was thinking maybe this was just another Indian riddle.

“You gotta figure out what to play. Reason you gotta play with each other is on accounta you never had no chance to do that ever. Maybe if you be kids awhile you'll learn more about bein' men. It's a bear thing really.”

I walked back to Ma's that day through that first real staying-on-the-ground snow of the year wondering about this bear thing, wondering what to play, wondering how to get Jackie to play it anyway and wondering if
what we were gonna learn in the process would keep us alive forever.

Funny how things work out sometimes. I must have spent about three weeks trying to figure it out. Every morning I'd catch him peering over at me with a twinkle in his eye on accounta he could tell I was still trying to work it out. He wouldn't say anything though and pretty soon I just kinda surrendered to the problem and asked for a little help to learn to see my way through when we prayed in the morning. Funny how it works out sometimes.

Hockey season got started in a big way and the White Dog Flyers were starting to look around for players. I played every winter in the pen for the farm team and I've always had pretty good wheels. I like passing more than scoring and I had a lotta pride in my play making and skating ability. Never was the scrapping type on accounta I figured I could finesse my way through anything. So naturally I wanted to try out for the team.

Around here hockey's the next biggest thing to bingo. My uncle Gilbert's known as the best talent to come outta this area and once got to scrimmage with the Chicago Blackhawks back in the days when Bobby Hull was just a rookie. So around here Raven's to hockey what Red Sky is to country singing. Both Stanley'n Jackie were regulars on the Flyers and had been for years, with Stanley being a stay-at-home defenseman
type and Jackie more of a power forward who kinda likes the rough stuff in the corners. What with my uncles Joe and Charlie still skating and Gilbert kinda part-timing through the seasons you'd almost think we should have been called the White Dog Ravens. Anyway, I was looking forward to playing. Both to relieve the boredom and to get some exercise.

“Gonna make an Indyun hockey player outta your baby boy,” Uncle Joe told my ma one night when we were down at the community hall watching Bert Otter flood the rink. “Gotta be tough to play Indyun hockey, Garnet, not like them city leagues an' lot tougher'n your jail playin'. Lot tougher.”

“That's right,” Stanley said. “Around here when they ask you how hard your slap is, they're not talkin' about your shot!”

Jackie walked in about then and nodded to all of us and turned to watch the flooding. I was kinda glad I was gonna be playing on his side on accounta he's so big regular he was gonna be huge with pads on. I shivered imagining him lining somebody up for a big bodycheck. Glad it wasn't gonna be me.

“Garnet's comin' out for the Flyers, Jack,” Stanley said. “Gonna be a full five of Ravens out there this year. Says he's some kinda slick passin' center, make your game better.”

Jackie shook his head and looked over at the rest of us. He sized me up and shook his head again before he spoke to Stanley.

“He's gonna get killed out there. This is Indyun hockey. Gotta be an Indyun to take it. Prob'ly spend mosta my time peelin' him offa the blueline.”

“Don't worry about me,” I said to everyone and Jackie in particular. “Can't hit what you can't catch!” And I started jiving around the room like Muhammad Ali.

They laughed. I caught Jackie's eye and could have sworn I saw a little flash of warmth. But it was gone pretty quick.

“Jus' what the Flyers need this year,” he said, walking back out into the night. “Some city-slick center gonna look like a bagga antlers in a uniform. Hmmpfh. Indyun hockey player.”

“Man, does that guy ever lighten up?” I asked Stanley.

“Yeah, actually hockey's kinda the way he gets a lotta steam off. Plays on the team but comes out ev'ry mornin' by himself to skate around, work on his shot an' stuff. Keeps the ice clean every day for everyone else. Kinda mellows out ev'ry winter, except when there's a game. Then watch out.”

“Every mornin', eh? Hmmpfh.” I went and joined Ma to set out for home. “Every morning.”

I wasn't sure how it was gonna turn out but I found myself lacing up my skates one morning about nine o'clock. Bert had done a great job on the ice and it was smooth and fast. I was just picking up my stick when I heard Jackie's voice from a ways off.

“Hey, bagga antlers! Good time to be out here for
you, no one to get in your way or see your wobbly style!”

“Don't mind me,” I said, leaning on my stick in my best Ken Dryden impression. “That swishing sound you'll be hearing for the next little while's gonna be me blowing by you.”

“Yeah, right,” he said with a sneer. “Hope you got an extra blade on your ass 'cause that's what you'll be skatin' on when you blow by me!”

He hopped over the boards and set to lacing up his blades while I skated around warming up. He started skating around at the other end of the ice and for the next little while we both concentrated on getting loose and not really paying the other any mind except for the occasional glance to check out each other's skating.

I heard the net being hauled over the boards and went off to drag mine over too. Pretty soon you could hear the solid whack of sticks on pucks and the occasional thump of a puck hitting the boards. There's no glass at the ends of these outdoor rinks, just heavy-gauge wire, or sometimes chicken wire on the poorer reserves, so when I started trying to nail the upper corners of the net with slapshots there was a lotta pinging of pucks off of wire. It took me a while to hear the silence coming from the other end of the rink.

“Only count when they go
in
the net!” Jackie yelled. “Gotta drop your bottom hand more on your stick, lean into it more. Golf season don't start till spring.”

“Yeah, well why don't you show me how it's done, then, hotshot.” I passed the puck the length of the ice. “I
heard your slapshot looks like a butterfly heading towards the net. Got more wobble than a wounded duck, I heard.”

“Heard wrong, Downtown,” Jackie said and skated up to my end. He stopped just short of the blueline. “Heard wrong.”