Keeper'n Me (19 page)

I wasn't the only one starting to suffer. Us Indians we believe that everything moves in a circle. The sun makes a big circle when it travels through the sky, our drums are round and life itself is a circle according to Keeper. The way he sees it, we start off with a kinda innocence when we're born and by the time we work our way around the circle of our lives, as long as we live right, we wind up with a kinda childlike innocence again. But an innocence built on wisdom, he says. And humility too, he says. Anyway, the circle that Wilbert started by trashing the radio started to become noticed pretty quick around here.

Him and his pals got real cranky not being able to hear the playoffs. Naturally they got cranky with their families. Pretty soon their wives and kids were being cranky with their friends and their friends were getting cranky with theirs until finally White Dog was one big cranky place to be.

Being kinda outta sorts over this radio thing meant they'd listen more to whining and complaining than they normally do. Around here whining's something reserved for the politicians. Most folks just kinda accept things when they happen. So whiners usually have to be happy with whining all alone. Right then though, whining was fast becoming a new traditional thing. Which suited me just fine since folks started to listen when I
talked about how White Dog needed some twentieth-century entertainment.

Turned out one of the most eager to listen to me was Wally Red Sky.

“Holee,” he said one day while we were walking by the lake. “Ever lotsa cranky people, eh?”

“Really,” I said. “Ever.”

“Kinda gettin' hard to talk to people. Yesterday even Doc was snappin' around an' him he never goes that way.”

“Well, Wally, it's like I've been saying, too much stone age around here has gotta make you nuts.”

“Guess. Never woulda thought losin' that radio was gonna make ev'ryone as crazy as they are, though. Not even like White Dog anymore.”

“I'll tell you, it only takes one good DJ to bring people around, Wally. I've heard some guys on those big downtown radio stations just make people happy to be alive. Got their rap down real good, play mean tunes, get everybody tuned in, you know?”

“Really? Don't get that kinda radio on
CBC.”

“The
CBC
ain't radio, man! Way before there was TV, radio was getting people motivated. Where do you think Hank Williams woulda been without radio playing his tunes?”

“Hank woulda been a star no matter what. Radio or no radio, Garnet. His music set the world on fire. We'da hearda him anyway.”

“Maybe so, maybe so. But radio connected up the
world. Got ideas happening fast. Changed the way people thought. Got them to see the light, like Hank would say. Got the world moving, man, moving. And that's why people are so grouchy, Wally. When you get a little bit of the real world happening around here, people like it. When it's gone they start to see how slow things really are on White Dog.”

“White Dog's in the real world too, ain' it?”

“Sure, in a way. But, Wally, man, there's such a big thing out there beyond that fence it'd make you crazy if you and me spent even one weekend together in T.O. Chicks, parties, nightclubs. Yeah, nightclubs, man. There's even hip, happening country places that would make you die, Wally.”

“Yeah? Really? What're they like?”

“All sortsa cool downtown cowboys and cowchicks and the best country singers you'd ever wanna hear. Kinda like that
Urban Cowboy
movie Bert showed at the hall last month, 'member?”

“Yeah, that was cool. What about them singers?”

“Just like you hear on the radio when the signals come in from Tennessee. The best. You'd learn lots there, Wally. Learn lots.”

“Hmmpfh. Don't know that I could learn more'n I know now. But tell me more about this radio thing. Think we could ever get a radio station up here?”

“Hell, I wish. It's a hard thing, though. Need lotsa cash. But, man, you'd really get this place going full tilt if you had one. Full tilt.”

“Hmmpfh. Hard, eh? Think anyone would listen if we had one?”

“Listen? No one'd be outside at night except to be dancing around and living it up. Get a good DJ playing good tunes and look out! A good DJ can be the hero for a lotta people, man. Real hero.”

“Hero, eh?”

“Like everyone knows Wolfman Jack, you know? Get talking, tellin' them things they might not have heard, jokes, all kindsa things. If there's one thing this place really needs it's a big dose of the outside. If we brought them big ideas in here maybe we'd feel more with it. Maybe we'd start getting better ideas about how to change things around here real fast instead of slow like they move now. Maybe a big dose of the outside would get everything moving together, get some more hydro, plumbing and lots of good things.”

“Figure radio'd really help this place that much?”

“Man, a radio station would bring this place to life. People'd hear about things they never heard of before and maybe start making bigger plans, dream bigger dreams, maybe get some nightlife going on around here. Things'd change, all right. For the better. Get some of the world into White Dog.”

“Bring the world to White Dog. I like that.”

“Get everyone right up to speed with things.”

“Up to speed. I like that too. Got a nice ring to it.”

“I'd die for a slice of modern pie right now, Wally.”

“Slice of modern pie. Wow.”

Wally slapped me up alongside the shoulders and headed off towards his dad's house, and kept on walking around the lake. It was early evening and the sun was just going down. Usually that time of day makes me feel real good, but right around then I was awful anxious and wanting some distraction. I never knew what was coming until it happened.

Them Red Skys have been big movers and shakers around here for as long as most can remember. There was Red Skys around when they signed the treaty back in the 1870s and ever since there's been a Red Sky or two right up front in local politics. Kinda the big dreamers, I guess, and Wally, well, he was a bigger dreamer than most.

Folks around here still like to talk about Wally when he was around ten years old. See, his family's one of the hydro Indians. They moved away from the old skills like tanning hides, netting fish or any of the bush things my family still knows and does regularly, and they got used to being comfortable and thinking different. As a kid Wally was used to playing with a whole different set of toys than even his cousins who lived beyond the power line. Electric stuff, you know?

One year for Christmas Wally's grandfather was coming from Winnipeg. Mrs. Red Sky's one of those White Dog people whose family took off a long time back and moved into town. She only came back after Wally Senior fell in love with her and they got married.
Her daddy was coming back to White Dog for the first time in a long, long time. Wally was all excited and I guess really wanted to impress the old guy with how much of a bush Indian he was.

So what happened was, he found a picture of some snowshoes in a catalogue and figured he'd make his grampa a pair lust like the old traditional people used to make. Ojibway snowshoes are real famous for being the best of the bunch, and Wally figured if he made up a pair, his grampa would really know that his grandson was a big bush kind of Indian.

Trouble was, Wally never asked anybody for help. He just cut out the picture and went to work. He walked out into the bush one day and came back with two long skinny branches of jack pine. He stripped all the rough stuff off them and bent them around in a circle and tied them off with a couple of tough moose-hide thongs. Then he got some more thongs and made big sloppy criss-crosses across both of those bent-around pieces of jack pine. Had a couple straps to tie around the feet and I guess in a way they looked like snowshoes but not really.

When the old man arrived Wally was excited as hell. Told his friends at school all about how his grampa was gonna really be proud of him on accounta he was a real bush Indian making them snowshoes.

Well, Christmas morning came along and Wally waited until everything else had been handed around. Then he brought his snowshoes out for the old man.
That was one surprised old Ojibway the way Wally's ma tells it. The old man turned them snowshoes over and over before he finally figured out what they were supposed to be. Then he strapped them onto his feet and started tramping around the house kinda getting the feel of them while Wally followed behind all proud.

Those moose-hide thongs just snapped all of a sudden. Snapped and sprang back straight again breaking all the thonging Wally'd criss-crossed across the frame. His grampa was left standing in the middle of the kitchen with two sticks strapped to his feet. Being a grampa he was real good about it and congratulated Wally on being the first Ojibway to figure out how to make collapsible snowshoes. Wally was real sad about it and it took most of the day for his grampa to convince him that he was still gonna be an Ojibway even though his first snowshoes didn't work out. They still talk about them snowshoes to this day and laugh about it in a good way.

So Wally's always been the big dreamer around here and everyone's kinda got their favorite Wally Red Sky story. Despite his wild singing and big dreams everyone likes him. Little backwards maybe, but a nicer guy can't be found.

About a week later the first signs appeared. Big orange banners, hung up at the community hall, the school, the band office and even stretched across the front of Big Ed's store. Big black lettering that announced the impending arrival of “The White Dog One Radio Network.” This was followed
by finer print that said we had only a mere two weeks before the “radio beacon of the north” came into all our homes to “obliterate the vast silence of the tundra” with the “back-porch ambiance of traditional country music for the masses.”

There was an accompanying handout that laid out the ground rules. For a mere five dollars a month we “subscribers” could sign up for four hours a night of crystal-clear, no-drift reception while we enjoyed the “cheerful stay-at-home charm of our aboriginal rusticity” aided and improved upon by the White Dog One Radio Network. Further information would follow, it said.

Naturally this announcement got a lotta people talkin'. The idea of someone bringin' radio right into the reserve was big news but strange news. Good news too for a lotta folks who were really missing old Bert's radio down at the hall.

“Maybe we'll have our own blackout bingo games here now,” said Velma Crow, whose monthly bingo migrations to Winnipeg were well known and envied.

“Yeah, an' we can have one of them request lines like they got on the radio in town. Here's ‘Forever an' Ever Amen' goin' out to Delilah Runnin' Rabbit from Cameron Keewatin,” said Cameron Keewatin all dreamy-eyed, Cameron being on the path for Delilah's affections since they were kids.

“Ah, that's jus' some hare-brained idea somebody woke up with'll never happen!” my ma figured and strolled off to finish up a pair of moccasins she was making for Chief Isaac's nephew.

“Hockey!” said Wilbert Fish. “Hockey!” And wandered off to give the boys the news of radio coming to White Dog.

“Hmmpfh,” Keeper said, while we were loading up with supplies for his place that day. Wonder how any-one'd come up with that kinda thinkin' round here.” He gave me the once over and smirked.

“Who knows? Good idea though,” I said, turning real quick to fetch some lard.

“Sounds kinda like another snowshoe episode to me,” Keeper said with a wink. “Gonna be some learnin' in this for lotsa us, I think.”

He didn't say anything more about it and didn't act the least surprised a week later when the notice went up at the community hall urging all of us to show up the next night for the unveiling of the White Dog One Network.

“Hmmpfh,” was all he said. “Hmmpfh.”

People were real anxious and neither Keeper or me were real surprised to find the hall jam-packed the next night. One of them big orange banners was stretched across the front of the room and there was a microphone on a stand in front of it. Someone had borrowed Wally's old tube amp and there was a big tablecloth covering something on the table behind the microphone. People were craning their necks to get a look at the set-up and we were all right owly about the delay when Wally Red Sky walked up to the microphone carrying a big bunch of papers. He gave me a huge wink when he passed Keeper'n me.

“Hmmpfh,” Keeper said, giving me that once over again.

The groan went up immediately. Wally just put his pile of papers down and waved with his hands to get people to quiet down. Clearing his throat into the microphone and smoothing back his Brylcreem-shiny hair, he went into his special radio announcer's voice.

“Ladies an' gentlemen, boys an' girls, this is the moment you've been all waitin' for.”

“Bring on them radio guys!” interrupted Wilbert Fish, eager to hear if hockey was gonna be parta the programming.

“Yeah, Wally, get offa there! We wanna hear about the radio!” yelled Velma Crow.

“This ain't no talent night, for god's sake, Wally!” screamed Wally's dad. “Get off an' let the radio guys on!”

Wally grinned and shocked everyone but Keeper'n me when he announced that it was he, Wally Red Sky, who was part, parcel and head honcho of the White Dog One Radio Network. When the groans died down and people started piling on their coats to leave, Wally's voice got suddenly louder.

“For a mere five dollars a month you can have this kinda sound in your own home!” he yelled as Hank Williams singing “Lovesick Blues” filled the room. People stopped and turned around to figure out how Wally managed to get such good sound happening. Most looked pretty impressed with it. Turned out that the tablecloth was covering a pair of record players
hooked up to Wally's amp, which was turned up good and loud.