We spent eclipse weekend in Montreal, Canada. Once we were shut out of Syracuse (too expensive) and Plattsburgh (no room at the – or any – inn), it wasn’t a difficult decision to go a short distance further. I love being that close to the border, and luckily our passports are current.
Because of the research I planned to do while we were up there, I thought we’d pop our chairs down at the park near the Ile de Tekakwitha on the Mohawk territory/Kahnawake. We scoped it out the night before and the parking looked extremely limited, but we were still hopeful. We would decide when the time came. As darkness settled in, we drove out to the main road for dinner – Robbie’s Smokehouse!
On Monday, we woke up bright and early; adventure awaited!
The photo below represents both the start and the end of the day.
Beginning with the end, I have slept with a Dream Catcher for most of my life. I notice a change in my sleep when I don’t sleep with one. It creates a calm and peaceful rest as it catches the bad and lets the good continue through. This particular dream catcher is one I got in Niagara Falls, Canada. I was drawn to the colors of the beads that represent the four directions as well as the uniqueness of the center stone.
The booklet is something that I was more recently introduced to through Mohawk Elder Tom Porter of the Kanatsiohareke Community in New York. Since then, I’ve seen it in other Haudenosaunee writings and readings. It is called the Thanksgiving Address, but it has nothing to do with the Thanksgiving holiday, but in giving thanks for all that is around us in the natural world, all that we have, all that we see. It is said at the beginning of all important gatherings, ceremonial and/or governmental. The Haudenosaunee call them the Words Before All Else.
I recently used a form of this address for a meditation that I was tasked to share, and it was very well received. I read mine, but most are recited and because of that they are often never the same twice since the words change with the speaker and the timing of the gathering.
As I said at my own (non-Native) gathering, as a shared meditation, I acknowledged the land we were standing on (Mohawk), and reaffirmed that I am a non-Mohawk, non-Native, sharing their wise words.
When we visited the Royal Ontario Museum this past August, I knew that I could not visit every nook and cranny as much as I might have liked to. I also knew that with five of us having different interests that we were going to get very frustrated very quickly if we stuck together. Upon entering and deciding who wanted to pay extra for the special dinosaur exhibit, I announced the three places that I wanted to focus on and whoever came with would be welcome, but if they wanted to explore on their own and meet back through texts, that would be great.
As an aside, I do miss my little ones, but I really appreciate going on vacation with teenagers and older kids because of this freedom for all of us. I didn’t want to see the dinosaurs; more to the point, I didn’t want to PAY to see them, so I didn’t. My daughter was not a fan of medieval arms and armor and so she veered away from that. The technology of texting let us know where the others were when we were engrossed in our little worlds. It was fantastic! And I think we all benefited from the freedom to explore our interests and the freedom from each other for an hour or so.
My three focuses were in the areas of First Nations, Medieval History and Arms & Armor, and Judaica.
These are a few of the things that have inspired me in the last several months and that keep inspiring me.
The duality of Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada. Bright and flashy by night; beautiful and awe-inspiring by day (and by night also). (c)2023
This is the Louis Roy Press, the oldest wooden printing press, and one of two remaining in working order; the second of which is in the US at the Smithsonian Institution. This press was used to print the 1793 Act to Prevent the further introduction of Slaves and to limit the Term of Contracts for Servitude within this Province [Ontario]. (c)2023
A good motto to follow. Begin the day with thanks, and the rest of the day will follow. (c)2023
Indigenous Peoples’ Day was Monday, nearly a week ago, but that doesn’t mean that now we can forget about an entire culture, language, history, or a people. I usually will say that especially in the Northeast, where the Iroquois, more properly known as the Haudenosaunee lived, we should remember them. There are several things wrong with that sentiment though, and I am embarrassed to admit them. For one thing, the Haudenosaunee live, now, among us. They cover the six nations: Mohawk, Onondaga, Oneida, Cayuga, Seneca, and Tuscarora, across all of New York State and the international border with Canada. For another thing, Native tribes have lived on this continent from ocean to ocean, from the time when there were no borders at all. Just like our states, their nations had rivalries with others, they had distinctive cultures separate from one another. It’s important to remember that Native culture, whatever nations are represented, they are a living, breathing group of people, and it is well past time to recognize their contribution and their sacrifices. I’ve had several people (non-Native, I should note) that it was in the past, it’s history, there is nothing I can do, and that attitude disturbs me on many levels. I don’t know if it’s a connection I feel to the people whose land I live and work on. I don’t know if it’s from my childhood admiration and longing to be more involved in the limited Native culture around me as a child. I don’t know if it’s because of my Jewish background where people will say the same sentiment: it’s history, why are you still upset about…? I will call out some by saying that the same people who say that the Trail of Tears and stolen land in the 1880s and 1890s is “ancient history” and we “need to move on” are the same people who insist on the rest of the country worshipping a man who died over two thousand years ago. The continued hypocrisy is staggering in so many ways.
I have a few thoughts and photos that didn’t make it onto the website on Monday, and I hope to share them with you today and in the early part of next week.
I have been fortunate to have visited the village of Kahnawake in Quebec, Canada three times. Kahnawake piqued my interest through my studies and research of St. Kateri Tekakwitha who was born, lived, and was baptized very near to where I sit right now. Each visit was unique in that I saw new things and learned new things each time. The first time during covid was very limited to the outside world and was a superficial encounter. The second time had a decidedly Mohawk perspective, and the third time was more of a Catholic and Mohawk-Catholic perspective. Each visit gave me a new outlook, answering questions and thoughts, and offering insights that raised more questions and contemplations. I expect and look forward to returning next year to do some more research as well as visiting their language and cultural center that we were unable to see previously.
These photos are a little taste of the village. I will also share the one thing that really surprised me. The Mohawk in Kahnawake primarily speak English and Mohawk. Their street signs and stop signs are in those two languages. I thought the second language would be French. As I said, there is always something new to learn.
From the top, clockwise: Original wall of the Fort Saint Louis, Replica of the Quebec Bridge, Memorial to those who perished in the Quebec Bridge Disaster, part of the St. Lawrence Seaway, the back of the St. Francis Xavier Mission Church, what I presume are the Three Sisters, which are grown on Mohawk land. Kahnawake, Quebec. (c)2023
I just wanted to add one or two notes about the above photos:
The St. Francis Xavier Mission Church moved with the Mohawk. It moved four times, I believe, before it settled permanently here and was built as a permanent structure in 1716. St. Kateri’s relics were moved here in 1973.
The Quebec Bridge Disaster killed 32 Mohawk ironworkers from Kahnawake. This left 25 widows and over fifty children fatherless. The compensation from the Canadian government was negligible. The Clan Mothers decided from then that so many members from one family could not work on such a dangerous job.
The Canadian government changed how the St. Lawrence River flowed, so it moved it away from Kahnawake and left the still St. Lawrence Seaway. The River was more profitable and was able to accommodate boats and fishermen as the Seaway was not. This is still an issue today.
The Three Sisters are known to the Haudenosaunee as the most important crops, sacred, and include corn, beans, and squash. They grow together in the same area and help each other thrive.
Haudenosaunee Confederacy Flag, which is a depiction of the Hiawatha wampum belt. (c)2023
Front of the St. Francis Xavier Mission Church. Kahnawake, Quebec. (c)2023
Signs and flags of Every Child Matters on orange are seen in many places. Despite Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Committee, there is still much to be answered for. (c)2023
Shrine of St. Therese of Lisieux. Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada. (c)2023
Next weekend marks the second anniversary of the death of my priest. In some ways it feels like yesterday and in others it feels like decades since he’s gone. I don’t know if it’s been a disadvantage or an advantage coming into the church so late in life that I’ve only had one priest up until recently. He was a guiding force in my welcome and acceptance in the parish and the Catholic faith, borne from his being Christ in the world through love, care, and guidance.
This weekend holds two saints’ feast days that I strongly relate to Father Jerry. Yesterday marked Saint Jerome’s feast and today is Saint Therese of Lisieux. Jerome was Father’s given name, so there is the obvious connection, and he held a strong devotion to St. Therese, also known as the little flower. When we visited Northern Ireland for the burial of my mother-in-law’s ashes, we stopped in Dublin, where I had the fortune to visit and pray at a shrine of St. Therese. I brought home a postcard for him, knowing that he was devoted to her. At the time, I hadn’t known that she has a much closer shrine, northwest of here in Niagara Falls, Ontario, just over the border. From that shrine at the Monastery of Mount Carmel, the roaring Falls could be heard and if you could get high enough even see the Horseshoe Falls.
The Monastery of Mount Carmel has two shrines; one inside the chapel where I attended mass, and one outside. The outside one was at the end of a path guided by plaques with many of the things that St. Therese is known for having said, culminating in a round clearing bordered by flowers, several park benches and centered with a statue of St. Therese in white marble, holding a cross and an armful of roses.
Those plaques are shared below. I hope they can be read on their own, or prayed with as you like.
We were staying in a small town outside of Belfast, in Northern Ireland. This was in 2017. It was our last night, and our cousins, who were hosting us had to tend to an emergency in Donegal, and so we were left to our own devices after their taking care of us so diligently, including feeding our brood of five. My husband had been adhering to a policy (and continues to do so) that he termed TSN – try something new – and with this in mind, we discovered a restaurant in town with Istanbul in the name, and chose a sampler of different fried foods that arrived in a pizza box. It was similar to a combo appetizer you would order at a restaurant.
This was my first time having a samosa. It is triangular, but not flat; three-dimensional, but not a pyramid. It is filled with, I didn’t know what then, but it was delicious. I have come to learn that they are usually filled with potatoes, peas, and spices.
My next taste of a samosa was at an interfaith Iftar I was invited to. Again, very delicious.
I’ve had various types of samosa, including a Thai version, which is yummy, although it has a softer outside.
While we were recently on vacation in Canada, we discovered and rediscovered a whole world of Indian, and southeast Asian foods, including butter chicken, naan, momo, as well as samosas. What I hadn’t expected was to see a sign in a mall food court (Pita Lite) in St. Catherine’s that offered samosas for $1.75 each. It came with a spicy tamarind sauce. (I did try it, but it was too spicy for me.)
I was so excited that I dug deep into my change purse for the exact amount, and sat at a table, waiting both for my family and to let this piping hot snack cool a bit. It didn’t matter – I still burned my tongue a little. And to be honest, it was well worth it.
When we returned to the States, and visited our local mall, I was not surprised but still disappointed to see that a simple samosa snack had not come here while we were away enjoying it. Perhaps, one day, but I can still savor the memory.
Sometimes an inspiration takes on many forms and has many hands to form it.
The pictures below are a couple of my visit (pilgrimage, I suppose it could be called) to the Canadian National Shrine of St. Kateri Tekakwitha. I had been trying to visit here for several years. I was hampered from visiting due to their pandemic closure, and then I thought I wouldn’t be able to again this year because their opening hours did not coincide with our vacation plans.
My husband rectified that by suggesting our return a couple of weeks after our vacation to visit the shrine. And so, I was able to fulfill my desire to see the final resting place of St. Kateri Tekakwitha. This was my final stop in seeking out Kateri’s footsteps, and it was a beautiful experience that I will share in time.
In the meantime, enjoy these photos that do not do the site justice:
St. Francis Xavier Mission Church. Kahnawake, Quebec, Canada. (c)2023
The Altar. (c)2023
Looking from the altar to the entrance of the church. (c)2023
Tomb of St. Kateri Tekakwitha that holds her relics. (c)2023
I didn’t want to let this one day go by without sharing some of my photographs from our Canada holiday. When we travel, we may have different objectives. Each trip is different, and it is only in looking back at journals and photos that a theme sometimes emerges. Sometimes it’s just family time, tourist time, foodie fun, and relaxation, and other times it fleshes out into something a little different.
In looking for photos to share as part of National Photography Day, I saw a theme of history; not only a historical perspective, but a focus on First Nations, ancient land, and my own personal history. I hope that the captions will tell a story.
While we were in Canada a couple of years ago, in the mall on the way to the food court, we came across a vending machine that sold and dispensed CAKE! I had never seen anything like it before. I thought it was amazing!
Griffins and Ginger Snaps 