I would like to dedicate this column to Cece Hodgson McCauley, for all the work she has done in and for the North. And for her decades of writing a newspaper column in Yellowknifer's sister paper, News/North.
She has helped to make it a more interesting place and taken together, helped to document its history. Cece is 95 years old and is quite ill. She wrote a column published Monday in News/North entitled: "I have had a great life!" She went on to say, "This could be my last column. I will tell you the truth as I always do."
I hope that someday someone will put together a book of her columns because it would be a very interesting and informative read, for this and future generations. Often people forget that what happens today does eventually become a part of our shared history.
There is a certain magic to the visual and literary arts. A person can take a blank piece of paper, or today a computer screen, and by making little marks on it, others can see or read that person thoughts. They can be entertained, educated or see things from a different perspective. That is surely a form of magic and yet it is something humans routinely do.
When a piece is published in a newspaper or magazine, it takes on a life of its own. You just never know how many people will read it, what they think of it or how far it will spread. Also, you never know how much people will be affected by it now or in the future. It become a part of a much greater whole and that is again magical, in its own way.
Like a lot of people, I have read Cece’s columns for decades, enjoyed them and I am sure they have affected or influenced me in ways I don’t even know. I appreciate her honesty and telling things the way she sees them. We could certainly use a little more of that in the North. If you want to look at history or current politics and be fair about it, you have to look at the good and the bad and take into account all perspectives, not just your own.
Cece had the courage to say that she went to residential school and it wasn’t the terrible experience others talk about. For some I am sure it was terrible, but there are always many sides to a story and they need to be told. I always got a chuckle out of her vision of the Women Warriors of the Sahtu, Ottawa’s worse nightmare, I am sure. I also enjoyed her observations about the many redundant layers of government, we suffer through. There was a lot of truth there, often masked by the humor.
One of her columns that I really enjoyed, I read in the bush decades ago. She was commenting on the fact that if young people wanted jobs, they had to learn to show up for work on time and have a positive attitude. It made me laugh, because it reminded me of a fellow I knew in high school, that we will call Bob, just in case he reads this.
Bob was a bit of a character and not noted for being a morning person because he would stay up half the night watching late night movies and pro wrestling. He would often work out on his weights while doing this, so he was strong. When it came to food, he was a bottomless pit and lunch was a standard five peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He often showed up late for school and more then once fell asleep in class, so he knew all about after school detentions.
One Monday he showed up for lunch, rather dismayed and disgusted. His older brother who ran a small construction company, had hired Bob to help out on the weekends. Work was supposed to start at eight but the first day Bob wandered in a little before ten. His brother read him the riot act. So, the next morning Bob set his alarm for eight. When it went off, he grabbed a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and one of jelly. He wandered over to the work site, a little before nine. He considered this to be a major improvement. Then, whenever he could, he would take a break to make himself another sandwich.
His brother had to go check on another job site, a little before noon and when he got back at three, there was Bob stretched out on some bales of insulation fast asleep, with a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. Bobs lament, to those who would listen, was that not only had his brother fired him, but only paid him for the time he was at work and was actually working. To his mind it just didn’t seem fair. It was his brother, after all.
In closing, I hope everyone tries to see a little humor in life and enjoy your day, because none of us, really knows how many days we have left, to spend on this glorious planet.