The Big Footed Snake

 

The Big Footed Snake

A Bringer of Blessings

 

When I was a young man growing up in Alberta one summer I worked for the Forestry Department and was part of Stand by Crew to fight Forest fires. I was stationed at the Entrance Ranger station north of Hinton just up the road from the Entrance Trading Post.

It was a crazy job where you sat around painting rocks along the driveway until the siren went off and we went to work. 6 of us all with 70# of backpack, shovel, pick, food, water plus plus plus pile into the back of the Forestry Truck with Siren flashing lights and crazy Ranger Joe Pasamera at the wheel.

We would race to the end of goddamned nowhere to drag another 100# of Mercury Fire Pump over hill and dale for a couple of hours to get to the fire and then get to work. That was usually non-stop for a couple of days or so but if we couldn’t handle it the major crew arrived to relieve us. We were first responders: First in, first out and back to painting rocks. Hard bloody work but the company guys and a lot of beer made it a good remembrance.

The Entrance Trading post was sort of the community meeting place for all the local Indians. I was fortunate enough to make a large number of them friends and was welcome all over the little village. I was able to join in ceremonies as a welcome guest and had a seat as a front row observer. I am a detail freak and one of the first things I noticed was the beauty of their traditional costumes: Particularly the buckskin, bead work and best of all porcupine quill patterns that were a marvel of precision design. I wanted to have one

I spent almost a quarter of my summer pay ($125 a week and found) and managed to find a friends mother who made me a complete outfit of buckskin with a really beautiful array of bead and quills. It hung in the corner of my bedroom where I could always see it for seven years until marriage forbade its use. I was a dancer and wore my warrior outfit when I was on the hunt at all the local Country dance halls. I was a good looking young guy, a master of bullshit and pretty good with my dukes if any of the local boys resented me trying to romance his baby out to my car. Unfortunately if you take your wife to the dance you put on your good clothes and act nice to everybody. The lady frowned on fisticuffs and there went the Warrior.

I always looked at my breastplate and moccasins and wondered where the designs came from particularly the porcupine quills. Now 50 years later I finally found out the source in a collection of Native America Lore at

http://www.ilhawaii.net/~stony/lore16.html

It’s all the fault of a Snake

 

The Snake with the Big Feet

Native American Lore

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Long ago, in that far-off happy time when the world was new, and there were no white people at all, only Indians and animals, there was a snake who was different from other snakes. He had feet-big feet. And the other snakes, because he was different, hated him, and made life wretched for him. Finally, they drove him away from the country where the snakes lived, saying, "A good long way from here live other ugly creatures with feet like yours. Go and live with them!" And the poor, unhappy Snake had to go away.

For days and days, he travelled. The weather grew cold and food became hard to find. At last, exhausted, his feet cut and frostbitten, he lay down on the bank of a river to die.

The Deer, E-se-ko-to-ye, looked out of a willow thicket, and saw the Snake lying on the river bank. Pitying him, the deer took the Snake into his own lodge and gave him food and medicine for his bleeding feet.

The Deer told the Snake that there were indeed creatures with feet like his who would befriend him, but that some among these would be enemies whom it would be necessary to kill before he could reach safety.

He showed the Snake how to make a shelter for protection from the cold and taught him how to make moccasins of deerskin to protect his feet. And at dawn the Snake continued his journey.

The sun was far down the western sky, and it was bitter cold when the Snake made camp the next night. As he gathered boughs for a shelter, Kais-kap the porcupine appeared. Shivering, the Porcupine asked him, "Will you give me shelter in your lodge for the night?"

The Snake said, "It's very little that I have, but you are welcome to share it."

"I am grateful," said Kais-kap, "and perhaps I can do something for you. Those are beautiful moccasins, brother, but they do not match your skin. Take some of my quills, and make a pattern on them, for good luck." So they worked a pattern on the moccasins with the porcupine quills, and the Snake went on his way again.

As the Deer had told him, he met enemies. Three times he was challenged by hostile Indians, and three times he killed his adversary.

At last he met an Indian who greeted him in a friendly manner. The Snake had no gifts for this kindly chief, so he gave him the moccasins. And that, so the old Ones say, was how our people first learned to make moccasins of deerskin, and to ornament them with porcupine quills in patterns, like those on the back of a snake. And from that day on the Snake lived in the lodge of the chief, counting his coup of scalps with the warriors by the Council fire and, for a long time, was happy.

But the chief had a daughter who was beautiful and kind, and the Snake came to love her very much indeed. He wished that he were human, so that he might marry the maiden, and have his own lodge. He knew there was no hope of this unless the High Gods, the Above Spirits took pity on him, and would perform a miracle on his behalf.

So he fasted and prayed for many, many days. But all his fasting and praying had no result, and at last the Snake came very ill.

Now, in the tribe, there was a very highly skilled Medicine Man. Mo'ki-ya was an old man, so old that he had seen and known, and understood, everything that came within the compass of his people's lives, and many things that concerned the Spirits. Many times, his lodge was seen to sway with the Ghost Wind, and the voices of those long gone on to the Sand Hills spoke to him.

Mo'ki-ya came to where the Snake lay in the chief's lodge, and sending all the others away, asked the Snake what his trouble was.

"It is beyond even your magic," said the Snake, but he told Mo'ki-ya about his love for the maiden, and his desire to become a man so that he could marry her.

Mo'ki-ya sat quietly thinking for a while. Then he said, "I shall go on a journey, brother. Perhaps my magic can help, perhaps not. We shall see when I return." And he gathered his medicine bundles and disappeared.

It was a long and fearsome journey that Mo'ki-ya made. He went to the shores of a great lake. He climbed a high mountain, and he took the matter to Nato'se, the Sun himself.

And Nato'se listened, for this man stood high in the regard of the spirits, and his medicine was good. He did not ask, and never had asked, for anything for himself, and to transform the Snake into a brave of the tribe was not a difficult task for the High Gods. The third day after the arrival of Mo'ki-ya at the Sun's abode, Nato'se said to him, "Return to your own lodge Mo'ki-ya, and build a fire of small sticks. Put many handfuls of sweet-grass on the fire, and when the smoke rises thickly, lay the body of the Snake in the middle of it."

And Mo'ki-ya came back to his own land.

The fire was built in the centre of the Medicine lodge, as the Sun had directed, and when the sweetgrass smouldered among the embers, sending the smoke rolling in great billows through the tepee, Mo'ki-ya gently lifted the Snake, now very nearly dead, and placed him in the fire so that he was hidden by the smoke.

The Medicine-drum whispered softly in the dusk of the lodge: the chant of the old men grew a little louder, and then the smoke obscuring the fire parted like a curtain, and a young man stepped out.

Great were the rejoicings in the camp that night. The Snake, now a handsome young brave, was welcomed into the tribe with the ceremonies befitting the reception of one shown to be high in the favour of the spirits. The chief gladly gave him his daughter, happy to have a son law of such distinction.

Many brave sons and beautiful daughters blessed the lodge of the Snake and at last, so the Old ones say, his family became a new tribe-the Pe-sik-na-ta-pe, or Snake Indians.

A Forgotten Hero

Sergeant Stubby

(1916 or 1917- March 16th 1926)

 

Sergeant Stubby displaying his many medals

Although dogs were highly utilized in Europe, the USA was reluctant to use dogs in World War One. It did make use of a few hundred which belonged to the Allies, but did not employ nearly the same number of dogs as European countries did. However, one dog, a bull terrier cross affectionately named Stubby became the crowning glory of the US army.

Stubby's beginnings were humble. A stray Bull terrier cross, he found himself wandering through an army training session at Yale Field in Connecticut. After befriending the soldiers, one in particular named Corporal Robert Conroy took a shine to the dog. Conroy named him Stubby, probably on account of his short and stubby tail. Legend has it that Corporal Conroy was so smitten with Stubby that when it came time to ship out to the Western Front, he smuggled the dog onto the vessel bound for France. Even when he was discovered, he was allowed to remain with Conroy and so found himself on the Western Front in the thick of combat.

Stubby remained with the 102nd Infantry, 26th Division, known as the Yankee division. He was present at many battles, including at Chateau-Thierry, the Marne and St. Mihiel. Over time, he survived a number of injuries, including those from shrapnel and gas attacks. It is said he became so well-known and admired that he was treated in Red Cross hospitals, as human soldiers were.

Having survived gas attacks, he became very sensitive to the smell of gas, and with his sensitive dog nose, was able to detect gas much earlier than his human comrades and alert them in time. His acute doggy hearing, allowed him the advantage of hearing even the quietest sounds from advancing enemy and so Stubby proved excellent at silently alerting his comrades when he could hear the enemy was near. His major triumph was hearing a German spy who had tried to sneak into Conroy's camp during the dead of night. The loyal and diligent Stubby managed to grab the intruder's leg and immobilize him until Conroy and other troops came to investigate and imprison the German. He also asserted himself as a 'mercy' dog, scanning the battle fields for injured soldiers and comforting them whilst they lay dying or alerting paramedics to the wounded.

Stubby was named a hero, to the point where, after the liberation of Chateau Thierry, the women of the town made him a special chamois blanket, for which his many medals and service chevrons were displayed. Stubby returned home a hero and became somewhat a celebrity in the USA. He received more medals than any other soldier dog and even outranked his owner. Stubby was even awarded lifetime membership of the American Legion and participated in every march and convention until his death in 1926, all the while, remaining in the care of Corporal Robert Conroy. Conroy himself enrolled at Georgetown University to study law. Such was the country's pride in Stubby that on his death in 1926, the New York Times submitted an obituary which read,

'On Feb. 5, 1918, he entered the front lines of the Chemin des Dames sector, north of Soissons, where he was under fire night and day for more than a month. The noise and strain that shattered the nerves of many of his comrades did not impair Stubby's spirits. Not because he was unconscious of danger. His angry howl while a battle raged and his mad canter from one part of the lines to another indicated realization. But he seemed to know that the greatest service he could render was comfort and cheerfulness.'

http://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/sergeant_stubby.htm#at_pco=cod-1.0&at_si=53e8c0e11c489dea&at_ab=per-4&at_pos=7&at_tot=8

Follow up E mail To Mayor Robertson August 4 2014

Follow up E mail To Mayor Robertson  August 4 2014

Another Goddamned Rant and Request

Read What I Wrote

I have sent another e-mail to Mayor Robertson and Chief Chu about Jim’s Weeds. I want you all to read it and consider what I request when you’re finished.

First however I have to deal with a communication problem and I will resolve it right now.

.

The reaction to my Friendship Blast was about as expected: Almost Normal Apathy! A few positive supporting Comments from people with their heads screwed on straight, a flurry of likes, a couple of really pissed off negatives, but from all you others. SFA!

About as Expected

I can live with that but what really pissed me off was the fact all the negatives were the same! They stated:

I DON”T TAKE ORDERS FROM ANYONE!

Well NEITHER DO I- but

A few guys took exception to my lecture and chewed my ass up for ordering them to do something and are no more. They never bothered to read and understand what I wrote. I threatened no-one!

I gave you all a Choice not an Order

I outlined the problem with Jim’s and I informed you of a Petition that I wanted signed. There is a difference between “Ask” and “Tell”

I did not ask anyone to do anything. That is a total waste of time so I decided not to be so “nice” and I simply told you what I wanted done and gave everyone the choice to do so! I also added a rider that if you chose not to sign; you were declaring yourself an enemy. I don’t stay friends with enemies and if you were one “unfriend me”. Thanks to those who did! I don’t need you in my circle.

Back to the Matter at Hand

Regarding: The Raid that Closed Jim’s Weeds

What now follows is the Letter sent to Mayor Robertson and Chief Chu. Once again I will tell you what you can do to help with this and add emphasis to our problem. I would like each of you after reading what I have asked the Mayor; look at the five final questions to the Mayor and copied to Chief Chu for answers.

If you would like to know the answers as much as I

Ask for them!

E-mail or phone Mayor Robertson  and Chief Chu

You don’t have to be formal or nice or give a lot of detail. Just ask a question referencing the raid and you want information about it. No reply necessary but a public answer is

A simple statement;

Regarding: The Jim’s Weeds Raid. I would like you know the answers to the five questions asked you by Blaine Barrett today in his e-mail. Please provide them.

Even simpler.

Why did you destroy Jim’s Weeds? I want answers .

Even that is too fancy! Anything you want to say will make a difference and you can tell them any way you want. Every complaint received will heighten the visibility of our supply crisis to City Hall and the Cops. If a miracle happens it will be noticed by the local press who should have been on their ass long ago and actually wake up the public. We can only hope.

 

I have posted the E-mail addresses and Phone numbers of both the Mayor and Chief Chu at the end of my letter. The choice is simple. Help or not help, Read judge and decide.

 

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As Sent Today

To: Gregor Robertson  Mayor of Vancouver

gregor.robertson@vancouver.ca

Phn: 604-873-7621

Cc: Chief Jim Chu     Vancouver Police Department

pss@vpd.ca or vpd@vpd.ca

Phn: (604) 717-3321

<><><><><><><><><><><>

Mayor Robertson: Chief Chu                       August 5, 2014

5 days ago I sent you both a request for an explanation of the Fiasco at Jim's Weeds. You have not see fit to reply! Why not? Embarrassed about a violation of common decency by the SS I thought you controlled? I think you can tell by the tone of this letter that you have a problem that isn't going to go away. Me! Every word of this is being sent to all my Facebook friends who also were customers of Jims and now have no place to get, much less afford to buy their medications. WE are not going to disappear and we would like some answers Numero Uno Who did this to us?

I am not going to repeat the recital sob story I attached to my last e-mail "In Memorium” outlines the callous brutality your minions handed out in their Phoney Photo Op Raid. A first hand account of a witness who was there watching the farce go down and involved in it

“SWAT Team Practice for the Riot Squad”

Horseshit

1.  Ramming into the place, jamming Jim out of the way! Poof!

2.  Threatening and intimidating staff and customers ad lib.

3.  Taking money out of a wallet? Poof!

4.  Illegaly seizing an innocent customer’s medication? Poof!

5.  Seizing all the store contents required to reopen. Poof!

Mickey Mouse crap! There is no point in pursuing and investigating that minor stuff because once again cops investigate cops and walk away. Do I sound Disillusioned? You had better believe it! I thought better of the VPD

This raid was not the result of some street level Cop overdoing his duty as an arrogant contemptuous asshole.

This raid was designed to destroy the business because Jim was selling weed for as low as $3/gra. and he was hurting the Medicinal Cannabis Dispensary business and being threatened for doing so but it doesn’t matter who made the complaint. There are too many assholes to suspect.

But there’s lots of money at stake to fester corruption and

I think I can state with confidence that whoever decided to break the cease fire has a lot of clout and a comfy seat way up in in the bureaucracy: either the Cop Shop under Chief Jim Chu or City Hall under you.

I think everyone wants an answer because of questions like:

These are addressed to you and Chief Chu separately. I think we are owed an answer from the Chief as well.

In order then: to you both:

1.  Was it you who authorized the Raid? Plain and Simple. Yes or No

2.  Were you aware of the Raid beforehand?

3.  When did you first hear of it?

4.  Do you know “Who” authorized the Raid?

5.  If not, why not? and

6.  What do you intend to do to find out

I will now leave you and let you digest that, grit your teeth!

I suggest you both start trying find out and I don’t mean sometime next week! I want some answers from you Chief particularly the names and rank of all the officers involved. To hell with privacy and security and freedom of Information.

Just ask them WTF went on there and I’d like a summary of their side of the story if possible.

I look forward to a reply at your earliest possible convenience. Thank you for your time and consideration of the situation: unfortunately this is not the end of a problem, just the start. Now you’ve got me on your back.

Best regards:

Blaine Barrett

TheSmeeGoanGuy

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And here we are and you know the problem.

Now I’m telling you that you can help me and magnify whatever impact this message has on the Mayor and the Chief by either calling or e-mailing to back up my request for some answers. I’m not asking and I’m not telling you what to write just get the point across that you want answers for the Jim’s Weeds atrocity. Feel free to link your request to my letter and the six questions for each. Complaining either way text or phone will do me no favour but is a big one for your “self”

Once again here are the contacts for the recipients:

As Sent Today

To: Gregor Robertson  Mayor of Vancouver gregor.robertson@vancouver.ca

Phn: 604-873-7621

Cc: Chief Jim Chu     Vancouver Police Department

pss@vpd.ca or vpd@vpd.ca

Phn: (604) 717-3321

Now you make the decision “Do I help or don’t I?” and act on it. I know where I sit on the totem pole of Character and Ethics. Look in the mirror and ask your self where you think you fit?

If you help: you make yourself a place in the Clan of Decency and Pride and you will be able to stare the mirror down.

If you don’t start helping I hope you are too ashamed to try to look at yourself.

Do what you will but do it. I would prefer mid-morning to ruin coffee break and overload the machinery downtown but anytime in the next couple of days would be lovely.

I hope to hell this protest does have impact and force an apology. If it does I am planning others because now you are going to show me whether I have managed to break through to and who will listen to reason and help if they judge the cause worthy.  That is all any Advocate could ask.

Balls in your court.

Blaine Barrett

TheSmeeGoanGuy