Gene Sheldon

            On Sunday morning when I got up I was still limping as badly as the night before. The only yoga exercise that was extremely difficult was the sun salutation because I had to put weight on the foot several times and so it took me an extra two minutes to do a five-minute exercise.

            I had been worried that I wouldn’t be able to stand for song practice because I don’t like singing while sitting. I found that if I stood in one place and shifted my weight slightly to the left I could manage it. I tend to move around a lot and sometimes dance while I'm playing and so this was a very stifling session.

            I memorized the first verse and the chorus of “J'entends des voix off" (I Hear Them Mouth Off) by Serge Gainsbourg. The verses are lists of mostly ethnic insults thrown at Hitler and the chorus has Hitler talking about the voices he’s hearing as a chorus of women warn, “Adolph you’re headed for catastrophe” but he thinks they're bluffing.

            Later in the morning my limp was less extreme but I decided not to climb up on my dresser to do any cleaning of the upper storage shelf. I didn’t feel sure footed enough to play around with heights.

            I had whole grain crackers and cheese for lunch.

            When I got up from my siesta in the early afternoon my limp was more pronounced again. That seems to be the case whenever I’ve been lying down. Hopefully I won’t be limping very much at school tomorrow. Later this week I also have to work and so if I still have trouble standing it’s going to make things difficult.

            I spent three hours working on my proposal and outline for the Indigenous Studies research paper. In the twelve years I’ve gone to U of T I have been required to simply produce high quality essays. This requirement of submitting a proposal and an outline is very controlling and intent on micromanagement and it’s like being back in high school. I hate this course. 

Here are my proposal and outline:

Proposal:

I propose to research Indigenous day schools that were active in the Atlantic provinces of Canada from the early until the late 20^th Century. I will focus primarily on the Wəlastəqwewiyik and Mi’kmaq reserve day schools in New Brunswick because this province was unique in having had no residential schools. New Brunswick is also of interest because during the first two decades of the early 20^th Century this province's “Indian” day schools often had Indigenous teachers. Some questions I will seek to answer are: Were there characteristics peculiar to New Brunswick and or its Indigenous cultures that kept residential schools from being built there? What were the conditions and features of New Brunswick day schools and how did they compare with the Shubenacadie Indian Residential School, the only residential school in the Maritimes? Even though both federally controlled residential and day schools had policies of assimilation were they the same?

Outline:

Topic: Wəlastəqwewiyik and Mi’kmaq reserve day schools in New Brunswick

Thesis: Within the confines of a flawed system the day schools were the lesser evil.

New Brunswick Indigenous schools were unique

There were no residential schools in New Brunswick.

Early New Brunswick day schools had Indigenous instructors.

Wəlastəqwewiyik and Mi’kmaq chiefs fought and lobbied for day schools in New Brunswick

The chiefs often asked for and received Indigenous teachers.

Indian agents often preferred Indigenous teachers.

The conditions for abuse and disease were far more pronounced in residential schools.

The opportunities for control were astronomical in the confined residential setting of Shubenacadie.

Dormitories were breeding grounds for disease. 

Conclusion: While both residential and day schools had an agenda of assimilation, the

environment of day schools was far less conducive to the achievement of that goal.

            I did some more research for my essay.

            I had a fried egg and a warmed up naan for dinner with a beer while watching Zorro.

            In this story Basilio continues to collect donations from the Los Angeles landowners towards the king of Spain and the war being fought in Europe. But he has amassed such a large treasure of wealth that he begins to consider keeping it all for himself. He prepares three trunks and in each he installs a clever mechanism. Each trunk contains a bucket of water that is designed whenever tossed by the rolling sea to pour water into a smaller bucket on a scale. When that smaller bucket is heavy enough it will pull the trigger on a musket that is aimed at a collection of gunpowder. When the musket fires it will set off an explosion that will cause the ship thought to be carrying the treasure to burn and sink at sea. For all Spain knows the treasure will be lost without knowing that Basilio has kept the treasure for himself in California. But the day the three crates are sent by carriage to the seaport Bernardo tells Diego that he counted six trunks, although only three were taken away. Zorro and Bernardo, also dressed as Zorro go after the carriage. Bernardo acts as a decoy to lure most of the soldiers away. Zorro chases the driver of the carriage, who speeds up and agitates Basilio’s mechanism. The carriage detaches and goes over a cliff, exploding in mid air. Later in Los Angeles Basilio and the captain want to gloat over their treasure but when they open the trunks they find rocks and sand as well as the mark of Zorro.

            Bernardo is played by Gene Sheldon, who started out performing when he was a child in drag as his magician father’s assistant. He was a mime and an accomplished banjo player and his first film roles involved playing the banjo.