I grew up amongst 13 children of a single mother. There is much more to life on the reservation than meets the average eye. Many see into the demonic realm and mistake these creatures for departed loved ones. They call on them for advice and entertain and mingle with them in native dance and rituals. As a result the reservation is an ominous entity in itself rather than a nice location next to the river.
Death presides over the many facets of Ojibway life.
The seed was planted in the hearts of several of his children, myself included. In fact, my parents had named me after their favorite missionary, a Swedish woman named Myrtle. While I did struggle with alcohol, with God s grace, I managed to stumble but not fall. And at 35 years of age he called on me to make a clean break. The scales of fear, doubt, alcohol and nicotine fell off me in one clean sweep leaving me totally liberated.