One Native Life

In Northern Ontario, Wagamese and his foster brother, Bill, listened intently to the historic boxing match between Cassius Clay and Sonny Liston. Engrossed by the fight, they were thrilled when Clay triumphed despite a challenging moment in the ring. Later, as Wagamese struggled with the strict discipline in his new adopted home, he found escape in his admiration for Clay, now Muhammad Ali, who had become an icon of strength and defiance. At 15, Wagamese ran away to Miami Beach, seeking warmth and escape, but found himself jobless and adrift. A chance encounter with Ali at a lunch counter, where they shared lemon meringue pie, provided Wagamese with a moment of kinship and encouragement. Ali’s autograph and the memory of their meeting gave Wagamese the strength to endure his hardships. This moment with his hero instilled in him the fighter’s spirit, influencing him to face life’s challenges head-on.

Wagamese describes the healing nature of mountain rain, echoing the sentiment of his people that rain is Mother Earth’s blessing. At 16, amid a tumultuous home life filled with anger and fear, he left with only a Grade Nine education and no clear identity or plan. He turned to the streets, the only place he felt he could go, staying in low-income housing when possible and living a transient life marked by desperation and the fleeting solace of drugs, alcohol, and temporary companionships. Homelessness brought invisibility and a haunting longing for a sense of belonging, which eluded him in the stark reality of poverty. Surrounded by a diverse community of individuals all experiencing this void, he found himself yearning not for people or a place, but for the feeling of being expected and known. Craving this sense of welcome and recognition, Wagamese worked to lift himself from the pavement toward a life where he felt he belonged. Now, with gratitude, he walks in the rain beside a mountain lake, embracing the sense of belonging that once eluded him.

Wagamese recalls an old TV antenna on his cabin, a relic from his boyhood in the north, where snowy reception was as common as the snow itself. He contrasts this with his current satellite TV, noting its clear reception. The antenna stirs memories of his days after leaving home at 16, living in rundown rooms. He reminisces about a particular room and an old red RCA television he bought for $10 from a pawnshop. Despite initially struggling with poor reception, he discovered that positioning the TV set in the center of the room ensured a perfect picture. This experience taught him a valuable lesson about the importance of keeping what connects you to the world at the center of your life. Just like the TV, he muses, spirituality, culture, or tradition must be central in one’s life to maintain a clear, strong signal and a true understanding of the world and one’s place in it.

At 17, Wagamese joined the Wood Family Shows carnival, where he was drawn to the Ferris wheel, a symbol of romance and spectacle. The setup of the wheel was a communal effort that required constructing its foundation, erecting the towers, and carefully placing each spoke. Paul, the experienced wheelman, led the crew with a focus on safety and camaraderie, often reminiscing about the slower, simpler “dime days.” As the spoke puller, Wagamese balanced high on the axle, feeling the wheel’s life through its vibrations. The collective labor and teasing among the crew provided a sense of fulfillment and belonging, teaching Wagamese about the power of shared work. Despite being the only Indigenous member, he felt a kinship with his crewmates, realizing that shared effort and common purpose can transcend differences, uniting people in a form of tribalism where “sweat transcends politics” (86).

Still 17, Wagamese hitchhiked across Canada. He describes this period as a “marvellous time to be young and free and wandering” (87). The year was 1973, the tail end of the hippie era, and the sense of community was palpable. Wagamese set off during the summer, feeling the country’s promise and the urge to explore from coast to coast. However, Northern Ontario rains halted his journey, leading him to hop a westbound freight train. There, he met Mick Pocknell, a miner’s son from Nova Scotia. They exchanged stories of their lives, Mick telling sea tales, and Wagamese giving accounts of his people’s resilience and the loss of their culture to missionary schools and foster care. One night, as they watched the moon race their train, Mick asked, “What kind of a God could make that happen?” (89). This shared moment of awe transcended their differences, symbolizing Canada’s diverse yet united spirit. Wagamese reflects on the magic that exists for all, regardless of origin, when one steps into nature and feels the earth spin, a unifying experience that prompts questions about the divine’s role in the wonders of the world.

In the stillness of the morning by the lake, Wagamese reflects on how the land evokes a tangible feeling like the comfort of “an old pair of moccasins” (91). He recalls how throughout his quest for identity, his sanctuaries were libraries, where he first encountered the enchantment of books as a child. Even during the turbulent times of his youth, libraries remained a refuge, offering free access to books and music that opened doors to undiscovered parts of himself. He describes his profound experience in a listening room, where Beethoven’s “Ghost” trio for piano and strings in D major resonated with him, altering his perception of the world and igniting a lifelong love for words and music. This encounter with Beethoven’s music, which he could feel “like old Ludwig’s hand on the lid of the world” (93), played a pivotal role in shaping him into a writer and a better person, deeply appreciative of the quiet, empowering freedom found in libraries.

Wagamese recounts starting to run again after a two-decade hiatus, finding the experience challenging but rewarding. It reminds him of a time at 18 when he, as a Grade Ten dropout, yearned for intellectual fulfillment and feared being perceived as uneducated. A group’s intense discussion about James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake in a bar piqued his interest, leading him to check out the book from the library. Initially, Joyce’s dense and unconventional language was impenetrable, leaving Wagamese daunted and discouraged. However, the book’s challenge was irresistible, prompting him to persistently read and eventually purchase his own copy. Over five months, he tackled the “writhing mess” of Joyce’s language, which seemed to reshape form and structure inventively. Completing Finnegans Wake was a transformative experience for Wagamese, proving his intellectual capability and inspiring him to dream of creating his own worlds on the page. The journey through Joyce’s work emboldened him, filling him with newfound confidence and readiness for life’s next challenge.

Wagamese shares the story of his first car, a 1964 Rambler Typhoon, which he acquired in 1976 when it was already showing signs of wear. Despite its rusty appearance and funky smell, he cherished the independence it brought him. Working a laborious job at Seneca Steel, he sometimes lived in the car, finding solace in music from an eight-track cassette deck; artists like The Who and Bruce Springsteen provided the soundtrack to his life. For Wagamese, the car was a haven and a symbol of freedom, especially on summer evenings spent cruising with friends or alone, contemplating life to the tune of “Thunder Road.” When the car finally broke down, he sold it and continued his journey on foot, but the song remained a reminder of hope and the open road, epitomizing the yearning and potential of his younger days. Wagamese reflects on how life’s poetry is not always evident but exists in people’s experiences.

In 1976, amid a dreary St. Catharines winter and working a monotonous warehouse job, Wagamese stumbled upon a book of Gustav Klimt’s paintings in his sanctuary, the library. The book’s vibrant colors and textures provided an escape from his loneliness and bleak existence. Klimt’s painting The Kiss, with its use of gold and two-dimensional, almost hieroglyphic style, particularly enthralled him. Klimt’s rebellious art sparked an exploration of various art movements, from Expressionism to Pop Art, changing how Wagamese saw the world. He began visiting art galleries, which previously intimidated him because of his lack of knowledge and his poverty, and adorned his room with posters, brightening his life as winter gave way to spring. His newfound understanding of art’s language later helped him connect deeply with the art of his people, seeing his expressions reflected in their work and feeling no need for translation, having learned from the “masters.”

The 1970s, for Wagamese, were marked by constant movement and a search for something to anchor his life. He recalls travelling with Joe Delaney, known as Joey Chips, a friend who shared his restless spirit. Their journey included a memorable car breakdown and a hasty retreat from a hostile town. They even worked on a railroad section gang in freezing conditions. After a failed attempt to settle in Regina, where Chips briefly joined him, Wagamese felt a pull toward stability, while Chips continued to heed the call of the road. Their last farewell was on a bright morning in 1978, when after their final coffee together, Chips walked away toward new horizons. Wagamese reflects on the deep understanding and bond formed from their shared experiences of hardship, loneliness, and the relentless pursuit of dreams on the road, acknowledging the unique connection among those who live on the margins. He expresses a heartfelt wish for Chips to find the peace that Wagamese himself eventually discovered.

Reminiscing about the night John Lennon died, Wagamese reflects on how, despite his Indigenous heritage, his heroes during his younger years were predominantly non-Indigenous due to his upbringing in foster homes and adoptive homes. He describes his passion for music, collecting records from various genres, which gave him a sense of companionship and escape. Lennon, in particular, resonated with Wagamese for his revolutionary spirit and soulful poetry. On the night Lennon’s album Double Fantasy was released, Wagamese listened in the dark, feeling a connection to Lennon’s happiness and contentment. The shocking news of Lennon’s murder the following morning sent Wagamese through a rollercoaster of emotions, from tears to anger. He sought solace in Lennon’s songs and observed the collective mourning of diverse fans, emphasizing Lennon’s ability to unify people. Wagamese admired Lennon for embodying values akin to Indigenous principles—peace, community, and respect. He laments the loss and wonders about what might have been had more people embraced Lennon’s message.

During his childhood, Wagamese loved Charles Schultz’s Peanuts cartoons, particularly the dancing beagle, Snoopy. He and his friend John Albert collected Peanuts strips, each with their favorite characters. Unlike Snoopy, Wagamese felt he lacked the grace for dancing, despite his passion for music, describing himself as “all elbows and knees, with feet too big for the skinny frame” (113). School dances were challenging, as his self-consciousness led to a reluctance to participate. This changed when he attended his first powwow in Saskatchewan, where the drumming connected him to his Indigenous roots, evoking deep emotions. During an intertribal dance, he finally felt the magic of dance. Although he still can’t foxtrot to contemporary music, he proudly performs traditional dances, finding his expression of joy in the rhythm of his people: “When you dance for joy, dance for life, dance for the earth, there are no wrong steps” (116), acknowledging that his cultural heritage has given him a way to express the exuberance he always felt inside.