I was born to a secretary and a grad student in the mid seventies. I was born 3 weeks late. The story goes that I was reading a book and didn't want to come out. Truth be told, even after 36 hours of labour, I was "untimely ripped" from my mother. I imagine if they hadn't pushed the issue, I might not have left. I have that problem now with my own bed. And I'm not attached by a cord to my bed.
The beginning of a good H--- tradition: group naps.
I might have been a happy baby, I don't remember. My mom did tell me fairly often that I never slept through the night -- not once. That has lasted my my entire life.
Me with Dad and Mom -- happy little family.
We lived for a short time in the metropolis of Saskatoon before heading to a small village/reserve called Cumberland House. It's hard to write a memoir of years you don't remember, but I have heard the tales of our Northern home so often, I have created the images in my mind.
Me and "Bup" the RCMP dog.
We lived near to the RCMP officers and the nurses who were posted in the Northern area to keep the peace and patch the pain. Some of those nurses and officers became life long family friends. I was their pet. The pictures of this time in my life are filled with young men and a few women with me smack dab in the middle. These were our friends. The residents of the village were less likely to be friendly. Mom would tell how I would say hi to each person we came across and would be heartbroken when they did not respond.
This picture speaks to the sense of style I created early in my life.
Suspenders are cool, right?
This was my life in those early years. Separated from all our family by long distance and culture. One of my first words was in whatever language they spoke in the village, but I didn't retain that for long. We spent three years there in the little village. Outsiders making friends of other outsiders -- all hoping to do our best for the people who weren't sure they wanted us there.