The Jacks, the Indigenous family that lived down on the shore of Takla Lake (photo) and whose kids made up about half of our one-room school’s population, were a constant source of both interesting stories and frustration. Ralph, my third grader skipped school one afternoon, and was caught breaking into a nearby forest ranger cabin.
The Jack girls developed impetigo, so I had to tell their mother not to send them to school until they had seen a doctor and were cured. When I talked to their mother, her face was all purple and bruised from being beaten up by her sister.
While the West family caused me some irritation, it was Hazel, a Native woman who lived in Camp with her husband and family, that caused me the most grief. Hazel, who had a job cleaning up the bunk houses, was the camp gossip that really created trouble on several fronts. Her son Darwin was in my wife’s kindergarten class and he was a nice kid, but periodically, Darwin’s older brother Jackie, came to camp to live, then disappeared, then returned again.
Jackie was in my seventh grade when he was around, and he was a bully to the smaller children, causing me constant trouble. His attendance was very irregular, and later he and Rene, Shawn’s older brother, who was high school age and not in our school, was double trouble when he and Jackie were together. Eventually, the two were caught stealing from the bunkhouses, the cook sheds, and some Indian cabins, so they were asked to leave camp.
One day Frank the Mill Boss, asked to talk to me, and informed me that it was going around camp that I was a convicted dope pusher. This was, of course, news to me, and Frank said he didn’t believe it for a minute, but thought I ought to know.
I was pretty sure that it was Hazel who was probably the creative author of the rumor, but I just let the whole thing slide. It was discouraging though, any one that knew me, also knew how straight I was. I didn’t even drink alcohol or coffee, let alone, take or sell drugs.
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