Run away

My dad used to share a story from his time at Indian Residential School. He told it to me a few times, and it always stuck with me. At night, he would sneak away to gamble. The Cree folks would play bone games a few miles away, and he loved to go watch and join in.

One night, as he was sneaking out, he spotted an elder friend coming down the path, heading home. As they got closer, my dad realized his friend wasn’t wearing any clothes. He couldn’t help but burst out laughing and asked, “Bad night?” His friend just replied, “Yep, bad night,” and kept on walking, completely unfazed.

From my dad's story, it didn’t seem so terrible at the time. But deep down, I knew it was a different story. The Edmonton Residential School was a harsh place, and kids were often sent far away from their homes and families. It was hard for them, even if they tried to find some humor in the darkness.


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