Ed Marten
Holy Angels Residential School
THE INTERVIEWER: Could you please say and spell your name
for us?
ED MARTEN: My name is Ed Marten. My last name is spelled
M-a-r-t-e-n.
Q. What Residential School did you go to?
A. Holy Angels Residential School.
Q. What years were you there?
A. 1958 to 1967.
Q. How old were you when you started?
A. Six.
Q. Do you remember what life was like before you went to
Residential School? Can you talk about that a little bit?
A. It was good. I had the closeness with my family. My mom and
dad were always there for me. My life in that time was more free. I could
go outside and play and all this and do whatever I wanted to do, besides
my parents’ “do’s” and “don’ts” stuff. It was good. It was a good life.
I spoke my language clearly. That’s all I understood was Cree. My
dad would sing at nights and things like that. We had tea dances. It was
nice.
Q. Do you remember that first day of school?
A. The very first day I faintly remember that. I was brought into the
Residential School. That was the first day I started school. It wasn’t
elementary of kindergarten, like when you start. Automatically we were in
Grade zero. This is where we left our culture and our language was taken
away then. There was no Cree, there was no nothing. We were totally
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different. We were allowed to speak only English, which we didn’t even
know nothing about. That’s what we were being taught was English. That
was pretty hard for us.
It was with kids my age and they were strangers to me. We were
all strangers at that time, even though we were leading the way, but we
were still strangers. We tried to speak to each other in our language but
we were hit every time we would do that.
That was the first thing that stuck in my mind. Our language was
the devil’s language, we were told by the Nuns. We were not supposed to
speak that way. We were just little savages with the devil’s language, and
that’s all we were told.
I could have went on to say that today it’s totally different. But like
now today with the Priests, they’re learning the devil’s language to serve
Mass. That’s something that really got me. I don’t know why they did that
to us at that time.
Anyway, that was the biggest thing for me at that time, my
language.
I think my Elders were helping me stick with my language. When I
would go home —
We would go home at the end of June. Our parents would pick us
up and take us right to the bush right away because this is our trap line
and this is our area and our life was in the bush. We never stayed here,
you know. We would come here for special days, but other than that we
would all go back to the bush, our trap lines, and stay there for the
summer.
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Q. What was a typical day like at school? What time would you
have to wake up and what was the food like?
A. At that time when I was there we would get up at 5:30 or 6
o’clock in the morning and go downstairs to the —
Well, first we would say our prayers. Get up in the morning. Say a
prayer. We mumbled something, following the Nuns. They would say,
“Follow me”, so we would say that. We would wash up and go downstairs
and say another prayer before we eat. And then we would have porridge.
All it was was a big clump of porridge. It was dry and all lumpy. It wasn’t
mixed right and they threw that in a bowl with milk. The milk we had was
powdered milk.
In winter it wasn’t too bad. But in summer we would make our milk
in the evening. We made the powdered milk in the evening and put it in
the jugs and put it by the window. We had no fridge to cool it off, so we
put it by the window. We would leave the window open and put the bowl
of milk there.
At times in the summer it’s hot, towards June, it’s hot. In the
morning we would get up and take that milk and sometimes it’s sour. But
we were forced to eat that.
I forgot to say something. Before we eat we had this cod liver oil,
one tablespoon — not a teaspoon — a tablespoon they poured it down our
mouth. Still today I don’t know why they did that. What was the reason
behind that? They would do that anyway. They would give us that and
we have that.
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After we finished eating we would pray and go back to the Play
Room and get ready to go to school. It was in the same building, the
school. So we would go there and go upstairs. There was this big Zero
classroom and go there and pray again. That’s how our day began in
school.
Without our language it was a totally different lifestyle when you just
left home.
Q. What about the education you received?
A. The education was good. We had from Grade zero to Grade 8
was there in that building. Later on in years they had built a different
school. There was not enough room there now, now they had to build a
different school. It wasn’t far from the Residential School itself. It was
called Bishop Fisher (ph.) School. They moved everybody there now. But
one year in the Mission, you’re still there. We called it the Mission, not
Residential School. We just called it the Mission. So we would stay there,
live there twenty-four-seven.
It was good in a way because this is how our education came
about.
After Grade 8, Grade 9, they would ship us out to Grouard, or Fort
Smith, to High School. This is when the students don’t come back home.
Once they leave they don’t come back. I didn’t go out. I got kicked out
before —
That’s a different story altogether.
I was fifteen years old when I left the Residential School. As soon
as I left my life began on the other side. I left the Roman Catholic Church
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as soon as I left the building. That was it. I never came back. I went on
my own at fifteen. Mom and dad were totally different. My lifestyle and
their lifestyle was totally different.
Q. Did your parents go to Residential School?
A. My mother did. My father didn’t. That was a different thing
altogether, too, with them.
There was no such thing as parenting. What we learned was —
After I got out, the thing we do is we get a hold of a partner, a
female partner, and get together and have kids. That was just a normal
thing for us to do. And then from there I didn’t know how to raise a family.
All I did was I did like my dad. I just got married, had children and worked
to support them. That was it. If they tried to come close to me I’ll push
them away because I’ve got to go to work. I would leave town and go to
camp to support my family.
I got married twice. This was my first marriage. As soon as I got
out of Residential School I figured that’s what I’m supposed to do. Get
out. Get married. And that’s it. I started drinking. I started all that other
stuff. Everybody, we all did, when we got out of Residential School.
Q. I want to talk a little bit more about how Residential School
affected your life. Are there any memories that really stand out for you
from your experiences there that you would be comfortable sharing with
us today?
A. There’s a few. There’s a few memories that bothered me and
there’s a few that are good. The one that really stands out is when I was
sexually assaulted by a Brother. It was one of these things, “come here,
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come here, I’ll give you lots of fruit for you in my room,” and all this. That
was it. The door was locked and the rest went on, other things. But with
that I went on my healing journey and I worked my way through that
problem.
And with other stuff like the culture being taken away from me,
that’s another thing that really bothered me in a way. Why are they doing
this? Why are they using our language in church now? Why are they
using sweet grass? They’re trying to get us back in all kinds of ways that
they could, you know. At first they told us that was the devil’s worship.
This is of the devil. Devil this, devil that. The devil had to be part of our
life! It really puzzled me so this is why I left the Catholic Church.
Today I do pray by myself. I go out in the forest. I go to the trap
line and I pray, myself. I take my drum and I sing. I feel better this way.
I’m closer to Him. I don’t have to go to a building and kneel down, stand
up, do this, do that, like we did. That was supposed to be the only way to
talk to the Lord. But for me I finally found out it is between Him and I, the
Creator and me.
Q. Do you think your experiences at school affected your life? Can
you talk a bit about that?
A. The school itself? Do you mean the public school or the
Residential School?
Q. Residential School.
A. Residential School really affected my life at the beginning. The
Residential School taught me how to steal, cheat and lie. I used to call
that all the time because in order for me to survive, for us to survive as a
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whole person, you had to do that. On Sundays when you go to church
every Sunday you have to go to confession. You’ve got to be pardoned
for something. We don’t know what was that so we didn’t know what to
do. We didn’t know what was stealing. What’s lying? What’s that? But
we still had to because the Nun would keep saying in the Catechism is
everybody is a sinner, everything you do during the day is a sin, so you
gotta go and confess to the Father every Sunday.
By any chance if you don’t have any sins, like you don’t know what
you did wrong, you would get punished for that. But on Sundays you have
to go. So you don’t want to get hit. We would get together as a little
group of kids, get together, and somebody would say, “Okay, partner, you
stole.” “Today you lied and you did this today and you did that today.”
“And you had bad thoughts today.” What was bad thoughts for us at that
time? We were 6, 7 or ten years old, and all that stuff. At that time we
thought that was the way to do it. That’s how we learned to steal, cheat
and lie. We called it that all the time. That’s what I got out of Residential
School.
There were a few good things we came out with.
But another thing is they steal your identity away from you. They
stole that from me. They tried to steal other people’s identity. Why is this
guy stealing, so I can do that, too. This is what I mean by that. I don’t
mean just go out and steal, like rob a bank or something. No. I mean our
true identity. That’s what I meant by steal, cheat and lie.
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I did all that stuff. I had to survive. I didn’t want to get hit for things
I didn’t do. You get blamed for anything. Even if you were in the wrong
place at the wrong time you would still get blamed.
That’s what I got out of Residential School.
Q. What about life right after Residential School. What did you do?
A. Like I said, I went on my own. I went home. I wasn’t doing stuff
that my father wanted. I rebelled against everything. What I was
supposed to do in the Mission I didn’t want to do that anywhere else. I
didn’t want to answer to anybody. I didn’t want to be told to do this and do
that. Go here, go there. Do not smoke. So the first chance I got, I did all
those as soon as I got out. I was fifteen years old and I went on my own.
I actually got kicked out of my house. My dad told me, “Okay,
you’re fifteen years old, you drink, smoke —
— A Short Pause
Q. Sorry about that. Finish your thought.
A. Where was I now?
Q. You were just talking about after school when you got out.
A. After school. Okay. My dad told me, “You drink, smoke —
I got a job. I was working part-time at the Hudson’s Bay as stock
boy. So he said, “You drink, smoke, got a job and I’m pretty sure you’ve
got a girlfriend now, too.” “You’re a man.” “You’re on your own.” Fifteen
years old. I got out. That was it. I was on my own.
From there on, it’s true, every weekend I would drink. The first
chance I get to do this, do that, I did.
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Finally I started walking around and I was looking across the lake,
the big lake. I looked across the horizon and I thought what is on the
other side of the horizon. I was curious.
One evening I got my paycheck and I jumped on PWA and I’m
going to Fort McMurray. I was sixteen at that time. I went to Fort
McMurray to look for a job. That was it. I went on. Like I said, I did
everything else I could. I roamed. I did all that stuff. I worked and
continually traveled. I went from here to there and there. I was wild and
free, not meaning getting into trouble with the Law or anything like that. I
avoided that as much as I can.
But other than that I got married at an early age because I figured
that’s what I was supposed to do. I came back home. I met this lady and
we got married. I left. I went to Fort McMurray and worked there again.
Then we moved to Saskatoon, and from there I got a job in the bush, at a
bush camp. So that and my drinking and stuff, drove us apart. We
couldn’t do it any more so we left.
I was lost. My parents, my dad, I had to face him. I hated him for
some good reasons. Why did he put me in the Mission? Why didn’t he
show me how to trap and hunt? He showed my other brothers. Why not
me?
Q. Did you ever talk to him about that?
A. I did. I was getting to that. I said, “What is wrong with him, why
is he doing this to me?” So I was thinking all that stuff about him.
I was divorced already so I came back. I moved back to McMurray
and I met my wife now. Then I came home. I decided to go see my dad.
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I’ll go see him. I came here and one evening we were already 2 years
together, my wife and I. We had a son. We got home. My dad was there
and my son was crawling around the floor, just playing. So he was sitting
there and he got up and went over there and picked up my son and put
him on his arm and started singing to him and held him and told him he
loved him. I don’t know what happened. It was just like something came
over me. I got mad. I got up and I said to my wife, “Bonnie, take our son
to the bedroom, I’m going to have a chat with this guy.” That’s when I
spoke to my dad.
I said, “Okay, you and I we’re sitting here together, we’re going to
talk.” I asked him all these questions like why you did this to me, what
was the reason, why didn’t you show me how to trap, why you pushed me
away from your life? Why did you do all that?
Then he told me in his words. He said in Cree all this stuff. “I
couldn’t do anything for you.” “I couldn’t do this.” “I couldn’t.” He was
yelling at that time, too.
First of all what really happened when I was born my mother was
only sixteen years old and she and my dad weren’t married. That was the
reason why. They weren’t married. He was supposed to go to jail. If
you’re sixteen and you’re pregnant, the person goes to jail if they’re not
married.
Q. Really?
A. Yeah. Automatically. No court, nothing, go to jail for 6 months.
I guess he didn’t want that so my granny took me in. I was one year old in
the bush. And then after they got married they brought me back and I was
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with my mom again. That was the reason, all that stuff like that. So we
talked and talked and finally he said that he loved me. He had a hard time
to say that, but he got it out and he told me that.
We had good times together. Just when we were starting to be
father and son and friend, he passed away on me. So I lost him again,
you know. I found him and then lost him.
But like I said, I’ve been on this road for a while.
The best thing I ever did was to talk to him. We forgave each other.
That’s how my life with my father was. Today I don’t have no remorse
against it.
Q. Did you ask him about how he felt about sending you to Mission
school and why he did that?
A. He had no choice. It was the government. He didn’t have a
steady job. He didn’t have a career. He was a trapper, just a plain
trapper, living off the land. He was just starting new so he had nothing.
The government told him that you’re not going to get no help. Indian
Affairs were not going to help him out unless he put me in the Mission, so
he had no choice, nothing whatsoever.
Q. Did you stop blaming him then?
A. After I talked to him, yes. But within those years I always
blamed him and my mother. I blamed my mother too for not coming back
to pick me up when I was crying at the fence, hanging onto the fence.
She was walking away and I was crying. I had blamed her for that. Why
did you guys do that to me? What did I do wrong? Was I a mistake?
Why? All these questions were on me.
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Thank God I didn’t go overboard in my drinking. I didn’t go
overboard in anything else, like hurting myself. I had some other people,
my grandfather and my uncles, who kind of put me together as one. He
was telling me all these things about life itself, so I wanted to go on ahead.
I wanted children so I could talk to them now, like I’m doing now with my
children.
Q. Do you tell your children about your Residential School
experiences?
A. I did talk to them. At times when I come home angry from work
or from somewhere where I get angry, I tell them, “Okay kids, don’t mind
me right now, I have this feeling and this is what I’m working on.” At first
they were kind of tense, like I was when I was a kid, when somebody
started yelling. Right now I just feel, “Oh, what did I do, even though I
didn’t do anything.”
But today my children are not like that. They say, “Oh oh, dad’s at
it again.” Keep away. The next thing you know, “Are you okay?” “Yup.”
Okay.
If only we had that when we were kids, all of us, most of us would
probably still be alive today. Alcohol took a lot of them away.
Q. I just want to ask one more question before you play your drum.
But how does a Gathering like this affect you? Is it helpful? Is it nice to
see the people again?
A. Today for me it’s a reunion. It’s a beautiful feeling because
most of the people that left, I haven’t seen them since Residential School.
Today they’re back and we talk. There’s a lot of stuff.
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To me my healing started years ago, I would say about ten years
ago my healing started. Today it really helped me out a lot. These
facilitators and also with these people here, I’m getting a lot of tools for me
to use on my Workshops.
I do Workshops. Now that I’m on my healing journey, I’m doing
Residential School Workshops. It starts in September and it ends in June,
just like in the Mission. I’m doing good. I’m doing art therapy, healing
through art therapy. So that’s where I am today. I really enjoy it.
Q. I would like to hear your song, if you would share that with us.
A. Sure.
Q. You have 2 sons?
A. Two sons and a daughter.
Q. Do any of them play?
A. No. I also play a guitar and I do gospel songs.
Q. Maybe one day they’ll want to learn to play the drum.
A. They will. Yeah. My son is twenty years old and he has moved
to McMurray. My first son from my first marriage, he’s in BC and in his
last year in Law School. He’s twenty-seven years old.
Q. Good for him.
A. My baby is seventeen.
Q. We’re ready to go. Play your drum and describe your song.
A. This song my dad used to sing on tea dances. We used to have
a tea dance. It’s not a round dance. It’s a tea dance. We give away stuff.
It’s our way of giving away things and enjoying gatherings together and we
would have a tea dance. He sang this song. There’s another part where
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he would go really high and all that stuff. I couldn’t do it. So I mixed his
and mine together. It goes this way.
— Ed sings and drums
— End of Part 1
— Following is a description of art work
A. This is the actual building of the Residential School which is
now behind us here, the ground. This area here where the girls live and
the boys back here and the Senior Boys back there and the Senior Girls
up on top here.
This first picture here I drew was the hardest one for me to draw. It
took me about a month before I got just a few lines. I guess it took me
about a month. This is the most important one. This is a Nun here with
me hanging onto the fence and on the other side of the fence is my
mother walking away. That was the hardest part to draw that because
that memory still came to me because I could hear myself crying and
yelling at her “why are you doing this to me?” “Why are you leaving me
here with this strange woman all dressed in black?” It was scary. It was
very frightening.
This next one here is me when I was 6 years old. It’s a big window
where the Play Room was. It has iron mesh on it. On the other side of
the window is the fence, the barbed wire fence. When you’re 6 years old
what can you do? Where can you go? That’s how bad we were to keep
us locked up inside, like in jail. Sometimes I think jails are easier to get
out of than here.
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That was the loneliest time of my life. I was really lonely. I was lost
and lonely.
This here is the classroom in the same building. This is Grade zero
and this is where your traditional language is left. It’s taken away from
you. There is no looking back and they just put it away. You have a
drawer. Put your language in there and close the drawer and that’s it.
You’re learning something different. Your identity is lost inside the drawer.
These ones here are all the students. I could probably tell you all
the people’s names back here, which I won’t.
This is me. This is my desk here, empty. Look in the corner.
That’s me. What I did is I answered a question without raising my hand,
without the Nun saying, “Okay Edward, go ahead.” I yelled out an answer
and I got punished. I would stand in the corner until I say, “Pardon me,
please, for I have done wrong.” I still remember the exact words.
This one here is inside the Residential School in the dorm where
everyone faces one side, one way, with your hands above the blanket.
The Nun would pass by every area here, every row, and make sure your
hands were above the blanket. In the winter time when it’s cold, the place
is cold. It was heated not by oil heat but by a wood stove and it gets cold
in the winter. All of a sudden you want to cuddle up and go under your
blankets and put your hands there, the Nun will come there and hit you
and get you to put your hands back up.
The reason why was they considered you would be playing with
yourself if your hands were out of sight. At 6 years old, what’s playing with
yourself? So that was the reason why.
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This guy here has his shirt hung above his bed. At 5:30 in the
morning the Nun would wake this kid up because he has to get up for 6
o’clock Mass. He has to serve. That’s the sign for the Nun to wake up
this kid.
This is the Confessional thing where you go confess and the Priest
pardons your sins. Like I said before, this is where you learn how to
cheat, steal and lie. That’s the first thing you’re taught is how to lie. In
order to be pardoned you have to lie. You make up stories. You make up
sins. We have a little group of boys, our friends, and the guy would say,
“Okay, you stole today, you lied, you swear, you did this and you had bad
thoughts”, all this stuff. Everyone had one. And then this is where you go
and the Father will forgive you for that. Say “Hail Marys” and “Our
Fathers” and you’re forgiven.
The next one here is a picture of the Parlour. We had a Parlour
there and fifteen minutes of visiting rights with your parents. If you have a
sister —
Let’s say you had a sister. My sister would go and visit mom for
fifteen minutes. I’ll be standing in the hallway waiting for my sister to pass
by so I could go visit my mom for fifteen minutes. We were never together
as a family. That was a big no-no, that one. Do not visit your parents.
Q. Did they ever say why you couldn’t visit with your parents?
A. No. All the stuff they told us, they never explained it, except for
your language is the devil’s language and the way of your culture is the
devil’s worship, or tools to worship the devil. That’s the only thing they
explained to us.
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The other things they taught us there were no reasons whatsoever.
This is why today sometimes with my son I would yell at him, “Get
away from the door, don’t do that.” “Why dad?” “Just don’t do it.” I don’t
explain why to them. We still have that stuck today with us. There were
no such things as explanations in parenting. Forget that.
Then the church, altar boys. This is the boys’ section, this is the
womens’ section, even in church. The Brother would stand by the door as
you go in and get the women to go on one side and the men to go on the
other side.
Q. Your parents would go?
A. My parents would go in the side here (indicating) and my dad
would go this way and my mom would go the other way.
Q. Could you talk to them on Sunday?
A. No, we don’t. We couldn’t talk to them. We wouldn’t even look
at them. If we got caught looking at them on Sunday while we’re in
church, we would get hit behind the head. After we go back into the room,
the Play Room, we would get a good licking for doing that.
There was no togetherness. Already they separated us from the
family and that’s what they did. They separated us from my mom and dad
and they also separated you from your siblings. Even inside the Mission
my brother was with me.
We have a charge. We call that a “charge”, when you’re in charge
of another kid younger than you. My brother was younger than me. I’m
supposed to be watching him. No. I would be watching somebody else.
Somebody else would be watching him. They won’t put us together. I
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would be sleeping on this side and he would be way down at the other end
of the room. They made sure we were apart. All the people, brothers and
sisters, were separated with another person. That’s our life there.
This one here —
We used to have movies on Sundays, a function sometimes. It
would be bingo or a function like that we would have on Sundays. Right
after supper we would go to the Play Room. They would call us and say,
“Everybody go upstairs and put your Sunday clothes on and wash up and
clean up because there’s going to be a good movie tonight.” All the kids
were happy. Yes, there’s a movie. We’re all going to the movie.
We would go running upstairs single file and then we would wash
up nicely and talk about the movie and what we were going to do and all
that. We come back downstairs to the Rec Room and all line up against
the cupboards here, the closets. They would line us all up.
This (indicating) is the little black book she would take out of her
pocket. It’s not a bible. It’s a little black book. It had our numbers. We
were numbered.
Before I didn’t mention that your name was taken away, too. I
wasn’t Edward. I was number fifty-six. For about 3 or 4 years I was fifty-
six. Then I went to thirty-four and then I went to twenty, and when I was in
Senior Boys I was number ten. I still remember those numbers. That was
the only name I had.
They would say, “Okay, number twenty, go to bed.” This is why
these little guys were crying, eh. They sent you to bed. They had just
finished telling you there was a good movie! They pulled out this book
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and there’s 3 little x’s by your number, you go to bed. They don’t tell you
until the last minute. That would hurt a lot of kids. It would hurt us. We
made plans but they were all shot. These guys would say “go to bed.”
The furnace was run by wood. We would haul the wood from the
hill here, all the way to the grounds. The bigger wood is for the furnace
and the small ones were for the kitchen. But they were all 4 feet long. We
would saw them, split them, and haul them to the kitchen for cooking.
That was every Saturday. That was our chores.
After that we would go to the potato fields and pick potatoes. It was
never all of us together. There were 2 big fields. The boys would go on
one side and pick potatoes and the girls would go on the other side.
These bags were maybe forty or fifty pound bags of potatoes. You have
to carry them and put them nicely in a pile. You don’t drag them in case
you damage the potatoes. The Brother would come along with a tractor
and put them in the bin.
On Saturdays in June we would go swimming and try to enjoy
ourselves. The one reason why I put this here too is a little bit of
humiliation was there because we never had our bathing suits. We would
borrow from the girls. The Nuns would go get them from the girls and loan
them to us. That’s what we used to have. We would swim around in that,
but people would be passing by sometimes, kids that we go to school with,
they would be passing by and say, “Look at these little girls swimming”,
meaning us. We would be called Mission kids, girls swimming.
I would take a dive as soon as I see somebody coming and go right
under the dock and come out and hide there until that person was gone.
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One time when I hadn’t seen my mother all winter and in the spring
time in June I guess she came. I saw someone coming from the side of
the hill here, coming down, so right away I took a dive. I went to hide
under the dock, which I always did. From there, as I got out I wanted to
see who was that so I went over there. And just when I was going over
there, it was my mom. I cried. I should have got up and looked. That was
the story of this picture here because that really hurt me at the time.
I’m going to get some more done. It’s not complete yet. But this is
the end of this picture thing.
Q. Thank you very much for sharing those with us.
A. You’re welcome.
Q. It’s an incredible treasure.
— End of Interview
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