Albert Dumont

I went again today, as I often do, to my forest prayer circle. I go to my place of meditation to express gratitude for the blessings of life I encounter by and by, as I go here and there, sharing from my storytelling bundle or to recite poetry. At other times, I go to the circle to ponder my many shortcomings and also to reflect on the emotional and spiritual dysfunction weighing down society in general, at this time in our world. It is so worrisome! Today though, I had friendship on my mind, its meaning and purpose.

What is a friend? I can tell you that there was a time in my past where I felt I had not even one person whose face I could look upon and see in it, a friend. Such a feeling brings depression, it initiates rebellion, it puts a gigantic chip on the shoulder of a young person! Times have changed. In the last 15 years, I have been so very fortunate to have friends in my circle who trust in me to the same degree I trust in them. I can confide any and all things of my life with them. I am there for them as a shield and I have no doubt that they would act as such for me too, should I call on them to do so. I celebrate my friends, I honour them, I feast them! My life would not be as joyful or meaningful if not for these special people in it who I hold up as ‘friends’.

In the heart of a true friend, you find the music, the beat, floating in perfect harmony with the spiritual beliefs you lean on to take you to places of grandness never imagined before.

When I think of friends and how they so greatly enrich me in my emotional domain, my thoughts take me to the lives of my daughters, my grandchildren, my brothers and sisters, my nieces and nephews, my cousins and other relatives and I wish for them, true friends in their lives. I want the new life (born only a couple of weeks ago), my great-granddaughter Isla, to grow up surrounded with ‘good’ friends who will emotionally support her and stand by her (elbows up) in troubling times as I know she will do for them.

I picked up a feather after my sobriety began. It spoke to me, it said “Accept me as a symbol of strength, of purity and of truth and like a real friend, I will never let you down.” The eagle feather has been true to its promise!

I look to the trees around my house and see living beings I regard as friends. The pines, the balsam, the white birch, the maples, all of them, they are real friends as are all things I regard as ‘All my Relations’. I share with them things from my heart, my sorrows and joys. I touch them lovingly. I present them with offerings of sacred tobacco.

If real friendship was a tree in the forest, it would be an oak. For the oak is strong, eloquent and generous in its provisions for all things living in its domain. This is how I see my dearest friend.

I hope all the people I care about have a friend, a special one, who stands by them through good times and bad times. A friend who will listen carefully to you and will emotionally support you when your energy is at its lowest. A friend whose voice brings energy and smiles into your world.

I can’t end how I feel about friendship without mentioning our family dog (1956-1965).

Laddie was my first friend. I learned so much from him, like what it means to be protective of those you care about. What things of respect I have acquired in my life that came to me because of actions people described as ‘deeds of courage’, have their seeds in the teachings given me by Laddie. What a fighter he was! He went into instant attack mode when he sensed a threat was close by, ready to harm the Dumont kids. His presence near me when I experienced any kind of trauma was a tonic which brought instant relief. His heart was a place I could enter and curl up in and be at peace. I’ll never forget Laddie and know I will see him again in the Great Spirit Land.

Friends, they make the world go round.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

Isla, my second great-grandchild was born on April 21. She is little sister to big brother Carter, born May 29, 2023, deceased July 9, 2023. Isla is as perfect as perfect can get! Oh how I love her! When granddaughter Kyrstin announced that a baby was being created in Kyrstin’s birth waters, I told the baby “I love you”.

That is the way it is with our people, we love our future generations even before their first breath of life is taken.

I wrote the following poem for Isla:

For Isla

When I first held you close
On the morning of your birth
I told you, in whispers
About the magnificent trees
Surrounding my home in Kitigan Zibi
I introduced you to the robin
The partridge, the turtle and the hawk
Spirit helpers of mine
Now yours to spiritually embrace

I took you to Bitobi Lake
And shared with you
The origins of the canoe
Together, you and I
Floated over white water
In a birchbark craft
How I smiled
To hear your joys of glee

And as you fell
Into peaceful slumber
I whispered
“Listen to my heart
Hear in its vibration
The heartbeat of my father
And that of my grandfather
Hear in it, the drumming
Of the heart of my mother
And that of my grandmother
Hear in my heart, the songs
Of your ancestors”
Remember the heartbeat, sweet Isla

I whispered these things
As I held you close

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

March 27 marks the day my beautiful Mima (mother) passed away twenty-three years ago. Though a long time has gone by, to me all my memories of her earthly travel, flash brightly in the domains of my mind, my heart and my spirit. I dedicate this blog to her.

I recall vividly that when my brother Maurice died, age 47, how it placed the heavy stone of sorrow into her heart. I remember my Mother sitting in the funeral home weeping, her head bowed. Her sobbing called out to me and I went to her side. She told me that Maurice went to her home once a week to take her to a restaurant for breakfast and then to the grocery store to help her with her grocery shopping. “I will miss that so very much,” she said through tear-filled eyes. I assured my Mother that she could count on me to take over what Maurice had done for her. Hence, every Wednesday I was at her door at 8:30 a.m. We went together to the restaurant to eat and chat, then went on to the ‘Metro’ in Aylmer. She pushed our grocery cart up and down the aisles of the store, selecting food items and what not in the way of supplies for her weekly needs. My sister Pauline joined us most of the time. We always had a good visit.

Mima endured much heartache and trauma too in her life (she lived in a sanatorium in Montreal, battling tuberculosis for 2 years). She gave birth to 13 children, she lost her first two sons, Paul Emile (17 months) and Raymond (7 months). She lost Anne (age 21) and Russell (age 25) too, early in their lives. Mima suffered greatly and sadly, the wildness and nonsense of my life before my sobriety began, also brought worry and despair into her life. I am truly ashamed now for being such an idiot during those wasted years.

I promised myself that day in the funeral home, I would be as perfect a son for her as I could possibly be for a mother who deserved the best of the best life can offer. I felt being there for her in her older years was the least I could do for her in appreciation for the wonderful Mother she was to all her children. I was a ‘good’ son for the last nine years of her life!

My Mother was not the type of person who wanted to be wined and dined by my dad. She didn’t want expensive jewelry nor fine clothing. All she wanted was to be happy and what made her heart sing was looking into the eyes of her children and seeing love, peace and joy looking back at her.

Mima took sick with congestive heart failure when she was 82 years of age. There came a couple of weeks near the end where she was in so much pain from blood clots in her legs that she cried, begging for death to relieve her of it. I spent a lot of time with her then. My feeling was that she was there when I took my first breath of life and I wanted to be present when she drew her last.

One day, in those last hours of her consciousness, she told me of a memory she had when she was 12 years old and working in a lumber camp as the cook’s helper (my grandma was the cook). Grandpa was also at the camp working as a lumberjack. She shared that at the camp, a worker had taken very sick. It was believed that the poor man’s death was imminent. While this was happening travellers arrived at the camp, an old man and two old women, all Indigenous. They asked permission from the camp foreman to set up their lodge for one night within the perimeters of the lumber camp. Permission to do so was granted.

Mima told me that after nightfall came, the travellers saw that there was a lot of activity at one of the shanties. The old man among them inquired as to what was going on in the cabin. “A man lays dying there,” he was told. For whatever reason the old traveller asked if he might go to the dying man’s bedside. He was told “yes” he could do so.

My Mother related that the old man went into the shanty for a short while. He then returned to his lodge and prepared to smoke a pipe. My Mom described the pipe as big, very long. She measured a distance of at least 18 inches in length by spreading her arms.

“He sat on the ground and smoked it,” she said, telling me that while the pipe was smoked, the two old women travelling with the man danced on either side of him. I asked my Mother how they danced. She replied that the women were wearing long skirts and only how the cloth of their dresses moved, made it clear that the feet of the women were moving in a gentle manner on the earth. My Mother stated that after the pipe was completely empty of tobacco, the old man raised up from the ground and returned to the sick man’s bedside. “This man will not die,” he told the people holding the death vigil. “He will recover and regain his strength and return to his worksite, strong as ever before.” At dawn the sick man’s fever broke, he regained his health and worked again as he had before taking ill.

I knew that my Mother told this memory of hers to me because it was her way of telling me the spiritual beliefs I have embraced are good to keep strong by my side. They are powerful and can be there to assist in bringing about wonderful things.

My beautiful granddaughter Kyrstin gave birth to my first great-grandchild on May 29, 2023. ‘Carter’ didn’t live long, only 7 weeks! How we all loved him! My heart knows that there is no greater love than that which lives in the heart of a mother for her children.

Kyrstin I know, holds her son spiritually, each and every day since he left us. So it will be till she, after living a long life, will bring Carter once again to her bosom. A mother’s love is a fire impossible to extinguish.

Many of my dearest friends are mothers. There is no sacrifice too great that would deter them in any way from going to the side of that child and fight with the ferocity of a mother bear to protect her offspring. To all of you reading this, all the sons, all the daughters, I say, “Never take the love your mother has for you for granted. It is a love you should cherish, honour and feast, you will never again know it from any other human being on this planet.” To me, the word ‘perfect’ was created to describe the unconditional love dedicated moms have for their children. The word ‘perfect’ is not a ‘fit’ to describe anything else around us save for the trees, the waters of the rivers and lakes and all else we look to when we say “All our Relations”.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

Driving to Ottawa from Kitigan Zibi on the 105 last Sunday, I saw in the distance, bright, flashing lights on the roof of a police car parked on the shoulder of the road. It’s a sight I often come across on the busy 105! Speedsters going way too fast will sooner or later fall victim to the coppers’ radar. As I drove by the foolish driver who moments before saw a police officer where not many want to see one, in their rearview mirror, I said, “I hope that learns you not to speed.” LOL!

In my poet’s mind I see things. The blinking lights, a police car, a speedster, they drew me to a fantasy place. I imagine a world then, where the flashing lights of a police car on the shoulder of the road tell passers-by not that a speeding ticket is being handed out but declaring instead that a motorist is being rewarded for their excellent driving skills. “We’ve been watching you drive with care and safety in mind on this busy highway,” a cop might say to the car’s driver, “and we are going to give you a gift in acknowledgement of your contribution in making our highways safer for all.” The driver might receive an expensive box of Belgian chocolates or perhaps a shiny fishing lure, guaranteed to catch nice pickerel (walleye). Such a sight, such a world, would brighten the day of all drivers going to and fro who witnessed it.

Another fantasy land comes to mind after I paid my latest plowing bill. The man doing the job does a perfect job of it. The snow is scraped so clean that what is left is tight like skin to the gravel bed covering my yard. I imagined spreading all my shortcomings, all my dysfunction, all that is negative in my thoughts and actions, onto the surface of my yard. I then call a magical truck which plows it all clear of my yard and brings it to where the purity and perfection of tree spirits deals with it. Now that’s plow work I’d pay anything to have done! LOL.

I often go to Farm Boy on Sunday afternoons after visiting with my grandkids to replenish the food supplies I will need to see me through the next week. So there I was just a few days ago in my favourite store with my grocery list in hand. I had been craving the sweet, refreshing taste of an apple for several days and looked forward to bringing at least half a dozen of them home with me. I love apples! I love them in pies, in crisps, in cake and in a strudel! I knew a guy many years ago who would cut an apple into slices, placing them in between two pieces of toasted bread and eat it as one might eat a tomato sandwich. I tried it and must say, it wasn’t bad at all. I like to cut apples into four pieces and munch on them while listening to powwow songs. I buy apples grown on Canadian soil. I refuse to eat an apple imported from the USA. Let me be perfectly clear, I would deny my taste buds the pleasure of eating an apple again if it meant I’d have to buy one from the USA to do it. What Canada can’t supply, I’ll do without. I hope the readers of this blog feel the same way!

On this day however, there were no apples from Canada available at Farm Boy. All the apples contained in the bins were imported from the USA. Thus, Farm Boy was denied a sale. I am boycotting everything, all things imported from the States. Donald Trump, a convicted felon is cozying up to war criminals like Putin and Netanyahu. He is telling the world that he will annex Canada. The war criminals by his side who have a lot of experience in that area of oppression will urge him on. The annexing of another country’s territory is their specialty. Putin and Netanyahu – Trump is talking their kind of language!

I bought a new (used) car a week ago. I didn’t buy American. I’d ride on a horse/dog team to the city or walk before I support a business from the USA. I bought a Kia! 

I haven’t been in the dating game in many years but if I was, I’d be singing “American woman get away from me. American woman, momma let me be” (girlcott?). When I say boycott, I mean boycott. Trump believes the people of this country will bend to his wishes. He doesn’t know us very well, does he?

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

When we think about who we should trust the most in this dysfunctional world (outside of our own family members), we realize that it is the person/politician we voted for to represent our voice in Houses of Assembly.

When I look at the person seeking to get elected to political office with the aid of my vote, I try to see what is honourable about the candidate, not only through my eyes but also through the eyes of my grandchildren. For it is they, the next generation of our bloodlines, whose health and wellness will be impacted the most by decisions of concern to the environment, healthcare and human rights, our political leaders make today. 

On behalf of my grandchildren and great-grandchildren I want questions answered by people hoping to secure my vote on election day. “What is your plan to stop crime, to fight abuse of power by corrupt politicians, to combat homelessness and to assure sensible medical aid for all citizens?” To bring peace to my mind I want to know the principles that will guide the person I will support with my vote! My relatives not yet born are counting on me to do my part as a voter in bringing in the best of the best to lead us into a gentler and better future.

It is true that money corrupts but I put my trust (my vote) into a person I believe will never sell out to anyone. I do not want to worry about the person I voted for being bought by powerful lobbies or corporations in this country. The person I vote for will be expected to fight the oppression of any human beings on this earth, regardless of skin colour or cultural background. I expect them to do so with every fibre of their being. If they don’t, I will regard it as a broken trust and I will not be quick to forgive.

Some of you reading this might not like it, but when Justin Trudeau was elected Prime Minister, I was happy. He got my vote! I believed in him and put my trust in him when he promised “a Nation to Nation relationship” with the Indigenous Peoples of this land. No more!

Trudeau broke the trust I had in him further when he brought Canada into a dark place where Canadians found themselves being complicit in a genocide (Gaza). The Liberals lost my support! I have no trust in Poilievre (that’s a straight up no-brainer), he would be a disaster and march lock step to the orders of other world leaders as Trudeau did. In the next election I am voting NDP.

I support Joel Harden’s nomination for Ottawa-Centre and I will be voting for Gilbert Whiteduck in Pontiac-KitiganZibi.

I trust in both of them to uphold the values I stand to protect and defend. Both Gilbert and Joel have proven themselves over the years I have known them, to be ‘honourable” men who will do all they can to make our world cleaner, safer and fair for all.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

I believe in a loving, understanding and forgiving Creator! Human beings are creatures of many faults and shortcomings. No matter how hard we try to be gracious and accommodating, our limits are all too often tested, leading to wrongs being perpetrated. Thank goodness Creator is patient with us.

I believe I can, through the force of deep spiritual meditation, communicate the concerns I have for family, all my relations and also my Nation to Creator in a good way. I believe that the doing of good deeds by human beings is recorded and celebrated in the world some of us will go to after our lives come to an end for us on this plain.

I believe in love of family. They say that “Blood is thicker than water” and that “Water is life”, what more needs to be said! The blood flowing through the hearts of my family members and the birth waters of my mother are sacred to me. I believe in friends, real ones! In my life I’ve known (and have today) friends who are compassionate, empathetic, supportive and loving. The kindness of their hearts is what attracted me to them. They have my back! I have theirs! It saddens me to know that the world has people in it who don’t know the difference between what is a ‘friend’ and what is an acquaintance. I do! I have had enough of false friends and no longer make space for them in my life.

I believe in doing all I can to make sure that the Anishinabe Algonquin Nation gets its due respect on our never surrendered territory. To our guests and visitors I say “tread softly on the rights of the Algonquin people.” I never cared much for the words “since time immemorial”. These words are not strong enough to describe how long the people who have become known as ‘Algonquin’ have been living here. Our Creation Story begins here within the perimeters of the Kichi Zibi watershed and even beyond that time, never doubt it! If you wish to know how long the Algonquins have been here, ask Creator!

I believe in the Anishinabe Algonquin legends and their ancient lore, passed on to our people by our ancestors. I believe in the wisdom of our old people and in the strength and energy of our young people. I believe in honourable role models and in kind-hearted mentors.

I knew a wise old man years ago, a good friend, who would bark, “Come on in out of the storm” when he came to answer my knock on his door. He would say this in the way of a welcoming, no matter if it was the dandiest day of the year weather-wise. He knew life was a ‘storm’. A storm that had the ability to consume you if ever it found you in a state of weakness. The storm which has engulfed the earth for centuries has gotten far worse today. We need to keep strong teachings by our side to shield us, to defend us and to believe in, to give us a chance to survive ferocious, opposing winds. I recall a person up in age at a pow wow, who said, “It’s not the price of a gift which makes what you are given precious. It is the good intentions of the gift giver which are priceless.” I agree!

We need something to believe in! If you don’t have it, find it!

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

My poet’s heart sang and danced last week when I found myself at Pinecrest Public School, a public elementary school (OCDSB). As I expected would be the case, the students at Pinecrest were extraordinarily welcoming and gracious!

I was invited to Pinecrest by Principal Naya Markanastasakis to speak to the students about my children’s story ‘The Maple Leaves of Kichi Makwa’ (written 30 years ago). While there, I was thrilled (not to mention super surprised) and humbled to see on walls of the school, maple leaves in the likeness of those in my story, drawn by students. I saw questions and statements about the story, posed and declared by students as young as 6 years of age. These were also interspersed on walls of the school (see link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1NsCs-oyogJJ41u-xrLRTG1qHWCGn9OeixXjtkPAivw8/edit?tab=t.0).

After the students had entered the gymnasium/auditorium in a mannerly and organized way, they sat on the floor facing the stage where I sat with five student school leaders. The energy was delightful! A broad smile stayed fixed on my face throughout their entry, I knew right away that we were going to have a good time!

The story ‘The Maple Leaves of Kichi Makwa’ tells of the maple leaves on the limbs of maple trees in the magical land of Kichi Makwa (Great Bear). The story tells how the maple leaves became upset when they observed that their friends and neighbours around them were painted with several colours. The flowers were colourful, the birds too, even the rainbow. The leaves didn’t think this was fair, they had only one colour: green! So they cried countless tears, not for days or weeks but for many months. Eventually Aki, the spirit of Kichi Makwa, fed up with the constant wailing of the crying leaves granted the maple leaves the gift of colour.

The leaves, now bright and majestic with the colours of orange, red and yellow felt that they and they alone, were the most precious and the most beautiful of all the beautiful life forms of Kichi Makwa! They became egotistical and mean-hearted. The maple leaves bullied and teased everyone around them! This constant harrassment by the leaves made all their neighbours feel angry and frustrated!

Aki was watching, what she saw made her heart race, and in her displeasure with the leaves (she had no tolerance for bullies), used her great power to create the land’s first autumn. Kichi Makwa had before then, known only one season, summer! Cold days and nights along with winds unknown before in Kichi Makwa loosened the leaves from their branches and off they flew, leaving the trees empty of their presence. “I never want to see a maple leaf again,” declared Aki. “They are forever banished.”

The story does have a happy ending. Forgiveness occurs, the leaves return, Aki’s wisdom and compassion saves the day! The purpose of this tale is to remind all of us that you, whoever you are, wherever you come from, are already perfect in the eyes of Creator. The story teaches us that bullying is not acceptable! No human being comes from a culture or heritage that is greater before Creator than the one of the people living next door or sitting beside you in a classroom! We learn that no matter the skin colour of the person next to you, he/she is as worthy of being treated with equal respect and dignity as ‘you’ are. We are all citizens of this great land, let’s recognize it and together, make Canada better for it.

The students at Pinecrest have found a place in the heart of a poet and storyteller. And I feel I have grown emotionally and spiritually because of it. Pinecrest is a wonderful school!

To purchase a copy of ‘The Maple Leaves of Kichi Makwa’, check out my website at http://albertdumont.com/books/the-maple-leaves-of-kichi-makwa/. The story of the leaves has been written into a play. Pinecrest is considering performing it at their school. I look forward to seeing it.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

This old logging route going from Wakefield, Québec to Maniwaki, is a lot like my past life. It has its dangerous curves, it has its rough surfaces (boy I’ll say) but it also has areas that are straight and easier to navigate (since my sobriety in 1988).

By and by, the old highway has become for me, a ‘time machine’. As I drive along the shoulders of the Tenagadino (Gatineau River), I find myself able to see quite vividly, my ancestors, in their magnificent birchbark canoes, making their way south, heading for Akikodjiwan (Chaudière Falls) for ceremony and feasting or perhaps going to where Ottawa is now, for the purpose of trade. As a man who retrieves a great amount of healing from swimming, I find it strange today that I have never gone for a dunk in the Tenagadino. I have never canoed on her either but will do both in 2025, this I promise!

I often reflect on long forgotten memories while heading north on the 105. I remember things such as when I was a child and being in a car with family, going to Kitigan Zibi from Pontiac, to visit with grandparents. I remember the conversations my parents were having with the driver of the car (often a relative from the Kitigan Zibi Anishinabeg) who had driven from K.Z. to Pontiac to bring us north. The chatter might go as follows: “Oh, this is where an Algonquin died in a car crash,” my dad would say in the way of beginning a conversation with the driver of the car. All details were known somehow, such as who was driving, where the passengers were sitting, who was killed, who lived. It is certain that over the many years since the 105 was constructed, far too many deaths have occurred throughout its length. May all who died on the 105 rest in peace!

There are places on this roadway where teachings I share at conferences or to make a point, had their origins on the 105, such as the maple tree on a high hill between Wakefield and Low which has taught me about the strength, beauty and glory of my Algonquin roots and why I, as an Algonquin storyteller, have a duty to keep our circle strong.

Alongside the 105 you will see trees growing from what appears to be solid rock, balsam fir and cedars, all healthy, teaching us that they are like the Algonquins. Though oppressive laws and policies of the Indian Act left us with little, we survived, grew and flourished all the same.

I see secluded houses off the highway and I wonder if the children who grew up in them knew every nook, cranny and crevice of the rolling hills not far from their homes. I know that if it was me who had lived there when I was little, the hills would have been a great place of adventure and peace for me. Even now, I have the urge to go into them and explore what mysteries await the gratitude of the human eye!

When I drive through Low, Québec, I often bring my old friend ‘Beverley’ to mind. She lived into her 93rd year of life (deceased in 2013) and was a huge fan of my poetry writing. Beverley had a deep respect for Indigenous people. Her ancestors were driven out of the USA after the War of Independence was won by the Americans and forced the British to leave. Beverley’s family lineage became known as the ‘United Empire Loyalists’. They came north from the U.S. in the 1700’s and settled on lands the Algonquins had never surrendered. Beverley was a firecracker and I miss her a lot.

The towns and villages on the 105 all have interesting stories and interesting people! Over the passing of my 74 years, thus far, I have stopped in most every place of business and eaten in most every one of the restaurants on the 105. The food was always good, the merchandise purchased was top of the line! The people I’ve met, the Algonquin, the French, the English and other citizens were/are all peaceful and friendly. The 105! It’s a scenic drive!

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

The biggest loser in the election last night was our dear Mother Earth. How she will suffer, how she will weep! I wonder to what degree she will fight back when her wounds open wider and her blood (water) is poisoned to degrees never imagined before a man like Trump became (again) leader of the USA.

A convicted felon who believes that Global Warming is a hoax has been elected president of the most powerful country on earth. “On the first day of my presidency,” he promised, “I will drill baby drill!” (fracking), something he promised to thunderous cheers from his supporters. A MAGA voter said in an interview this morning about Trump’s win: “It means more money in my pocket!” ‘Money’ – yes our dear Mother Earth needs to learn that ‘money’ is more important to most people of this world than is the health of the water we drink so we can live.

Trump told the world during the campaign that when elected president, he will advise Netanyahu to “finish the job”. This could only mean wiping Palestine off the face of the map. There is only one Palestine on this planet. I fear that very soon, Palestine will no longer exist, the genocide will be complete! A people who have been severely oppressed since 1948 and have been enduring unimaginable suffering for over a year, are destined it seems, to experience even greater misery now that a leader from Turtle Island gives the green light to the war mongers to wipe out Palestine. Palestinians were removed from the lands they had lived on for millennia and placed on reserves: Gaza and the West Bank. My heart, my spirit, my energies, go out to them now and I am afraid for them. Joe Biden and Kamala Harris are co-combatants in the force delivering the death blow to many thousands of innocent Palestinian children. The blood of those children cannot be washed clean from the hands of the war criminals.

The violent extremists who stormed the Capitol on Jan. 6, 2020 and were jailed for their criminal actions will be set free by Trump. Women’s rights will be set back decades! Trump promised to be a ‘Dictator’! “You won’t have to vote again,” he promised. When a convicted felon makes a promise like that, you got to take it seriously. Good human beings worry for the future of their children while others are concerned about money in their pockets!

Trump is a vengeful man (keep Project 2025 in mind)! People who crossed him better beware now that he will be the president. He is not the type of man I would want marrying into my family but for most American voters he’s their guy simply because they believe it means ‘more money for themselves and cheaper gas prices’.

A dying planet, where people whose ability to gather kindness into their hearts, passed away somewhere on their life’s trail. Proof of it lays in the results of last night’s election in the USA. It’s a different world! Let us do all we can to keep the circle strong.

Keep the circle strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

I remember a man from my youth, who after being involved in a terrible car accident, was left without the ability to mentally function again in a normal way. A bad fracture of his forehead was doctored by the installation of a steel plate where bone had once protected his brain. ‘Jimmy’ was never the same afterwards! He ended up living on the streets of Ottawa, where on several occasions I chanced to meet him. When Jimmy and I did bump into each other, I would invite him to have a meal with me in one of the many ‘greasy spoons’ found in Ottawa in the 1970’s. He was homeless and fun loving! He was gentle and honourable! Jimmy died of an epileptic seizure when he was only 38. May he rest in peace!

For as far as my ‘city’ memories go, I see that I have always nurtured a warm place in my heart for ‘street people’, no doubt placed there through the friendship I had with Jimmy. Creator knows that back in 1973 I came very close to ending up on the street myself! At that time I and another alcoholic began buying 40 oz. bottles of Club House Golden Sherry and sitting in a park all day, getting drunk. This was something I did for half the summer of 1973. I was able to break free! Many could not! My drinking buddy of that summer never left the street. He died a drunkard less than 10 years after beginning his street life.

Almost 60% of Ottawa’s street people are of Indigenous bloodlines. I wrote a poem dedicated to those people of Indigenous ancestry who die on the streets. The poem is titled ‘Do Not Pity me’. The City of Ottawa recorded it when I served as Ottawa’s English Poet Laureate. I dedicate this poem to the Indigenous people who weren’t able to endure the weight brought down on them by the tremendous force of the Indian Act! Here is the link to it if you have an interest in hearing and watching it: https://youtu.be/pgrm84TOgSE.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)