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Thinking

by Richard Parker

178 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #00-0026; ISBN 1-55212-362-6; US$18.50, C$21.95, EUR15.50, £11.00

This book is and was conceived by time spent thinking mostly of why, how, when, and pain.

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about the book      about the author      sample chapter      catalogue info

About the Book To be individualistic but not to the extent one is deemed odd. Set a line of approach and stay on this the best way one can. If this does not work, change plan with the idea of making it work. The streets are full of youth who lose heart too early. Life is a long time. It's not a party all the way. It's ups and downs all the way. The word "no" goes both ways. Learn to accept it. In time you realize that in reverse it reads "on". On for forward. Our youth today dream a lot. Just as we in the past and history proves this because of all the dreams that came to fruition. Columbus dreamed.

About the Author

I am Aboriginal. Born in this province. I am one of the many who spent time in one of the residential schools that made the front pages of our erst publications. I have no issues with these schools. They taught me to look at life in a different light. No abuses. Discipline, yes. This has fortified me in all my years. It brought me through a war. It helped me lead many a "body" home. This book is about me.
How I got started in life. Being born through Holy wedlock, of course, I was born in the interior town of Vernon, British Columbia, in the year 1917. Am a Gemini being. It was in the month of May of that year. My early years I do not recall much of. I was my grandfather's favorite, only because my brother had blue eyes and was very fair of complexion. As far as granpa was concerned my brother was a "shamma". I am not certain of the correct spelling of the Indian word meaning white man. It came to pass that brother spoke the Indian language of this certain area better than most of the local tribesmen.
Anyway, to shorten up on the story, I went to school at Kamloops Indian Residential School. Then to school in Kamloops proper. Some schooling in Vancouver and then started lessons in the school of hard knocks. I joined the work force at the tender age of thirteen and a little better. I went placer mining. This period is in the book.
Later, I went to work in lumbering. Then I went "underground". Huh, oh. I mean I went to work as a miner, in this case, a gold mine. I had near mishaps down there so came up to breathe nice fresh air in the rain forests of our beautiful British Columbia. All this during the Hungry Thirties. Early Thirties, into the Forties, I knocked around thither and yon and managed to get myself married and had a family.
In the meantime the Second World War broke out and I did not join right away. I was doing OK so I hung on for a while. My brother enlisted and so did my father. He in the Veterans Guard. My father that is.
I did enlist and in no time I am in a war theater, this is also in the book. After the war I went prospecting for a gold mine, only for someone else. Because of a health category I had to leave that.
I did go back to the woods and I remained in the woodworking game near onto forty years. All this is in the book, with a few embellishments to make it good family reading.

Sample Chapter: Chapter One

I was quite young when I left home. I read a lot of books when I was young and I still do. I read western stories, detective novels and, yes, even love and romance stories. The books from the library were of interest, too. As a matter of fact, it was a library book I read that gave food for my daydreams. It was a book on mining, such as placer mining, hard-rock mining and prospecting for gold. I read of all the methods used in the recovery of gold; I read of the Klondike Goldrush and the Cariboo Goldrush. I also read of all the characters that made those days, would you say, romantic. I read these accounts and practically lived them.

I dreamed I was a gold miner. I made a fortune and bought my mother a huge house and made life good for her. Of course in this dream I would also say to my father: "I told you I could do what I set out to do." I read of mining on the Fraser River where people were making a decent living. I read of the methods they employed and the equipment that was necessary for the recovery of gold, such as sluice boxes, rockers and Long Toms. There were even illustrations of these items. I took all this in and I was sure I could do all that was necessary to become a gold miner. I realized I would have to be equipped with things such as food, clothing, footwear and camping gear. I thought of all this because it was in the books I had read. So, when I left home, I was not without some preparation. I had a goal of sorts in my mind. But I was a rank novice, besides being a child out in a very large world. If I had had no money to start with, I would have gone crawling home smartly, I am sure. I was, of course, a bit lucky because I met the right people, people who were of the same mind as I. These were people I met on the river.

I think I had better fill you in on why I left home. I was 15 years old and my birthday was in May of that year. It was then August. I was told by some that it was rather late to start out, but if I played it smart I could get myself organized before winter set in and build myself a shelter of some sort. There were shelters for the having, some left by others who had gone further up the river or gone to other places where gold had been found. Back to why I left home. Well, there were several reasons. One of them was my stupidity: Stupid because I figured my britches were as large as my father's and all people of like stature. I figured I knew as much as the ones who were telling me which side of my slice of bread was buttered. I hated the term "No" and hated the word "don't." If it was today I probably would have gone to the streets. No, I beg to differ here; I would not have done that. I would have gone and done what I did back then. Perhaps, it would not have been gold mining, but I would have gone out to the tall timber - logging, or something like that.

My father and I had a severe falling out. I had some money and he wanted me to put it away in savings. I had other plans and they were not, according to my father, very smart. They were not, of course, but I was not going to agree with anyone on this matter. In a way, the money served a good purpose in the end, not because of my smarts but because of what took place after I left home. For now, the house was not big enough for father and son. So I packed my bags and was on my way. The No. 1 son, my brother, had gone his way previously. My mother tried to talk some sense into my head, but to no avail. So she assisted me by packing some food in a bag and contributing a few dollars to my kitty. I had a sleeping bag, which was a good one. With that and what I had learned from my father, the Boy Scouts and, above all, from my grandfather, who had instilled in my mind how to survive in the wilderness and to make oneself comfortable in all kinds of circumstances. I had spent some time with my grandfather on his trapline in the winter.

I did not at the time appreciate all these things that had been taught to me in my growing up. This was what made it a bit easier to face the hard times later on. I, of course, had no idea what hard times were. Our family did suffer some privation, but we always had a crust of bread in the house. Perhaps the bread had to be eaten dry. There were these days and, although they were no many, they were enough to be bothersome. There were reasons why these problems occurred. At this time, the whole country was in an awful mess during the late 1920s and early '30s, stories that people only hear tell of today: It's history. There was the "Great Crash" with the economy of the world gone down the tube. I did not understand much of what was going on. Big finance was not of much interest to a boy of my age; I would not have understood much of it anyway. My interests were of now and how much fun and play I could get into the day - any and all days. O Youth, those were the days!

I must say that we youngsters did not take too long to learn the value of money. We very soon realized the necessity of this commodity. And when we learned what this was worth to us, we, of course, went further afield to garner more of the same. The weekly stipend, or allowances, became inadequate to our needs. As we grew older, we found more ways to spend money. A dime here, a nickel there and we soon found we needed more. This, of course, sent us farther afield. We learned that we could sell our services for money - mowing lawns, chopping wood, baby-sitting. All sorts of services brought in money. As I became older, I found pugilism was one way to make a dollar or so. I became quite good at fisticuffs, so I sold this "commodity." I acquired a few lumps as I collected a few dollars. It was fun, too, and it was honest. This the family tried very hard to discourage. I ended this adventure on my own when I learned I was not the type to make a fighter. Also, I hated losing and I did lose some. I didn't care too much for the lumps which came with the trade.

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