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The Princess of the Left-Two Tribe

So I’ve decided to do something completely different today.

I’m going to tell a story of my past that has nothing to do with my wedding or food.

Say Whaaaaaat?

 

This is a story of my heritage.

 

Sort of.

Back to the Past!

Lines-and-Lights-HD-Wallpaper

 

To start us off, you need to know that my dad’s side of the family is part Aboriginal.

But my grandfather had a big imagination and loved messing with his kids so he came up with a story about their ‘family’.

He told them that they were part of a tribe called the “Left-Two’s”

 

Now the Left-Two’s were from Northern Ontario and they were very shy people.

They would rarely leave their community and liked to hide in their Wigwams.

Which is why there are only a few of us left.

They never went out to “meet” other people.

 

The Left-Two’s.

 

(Get it???)

 

Now from there, he created numerous stories about the Left-Two’s, which he told his kids (my father).

And from there, my father told my brother and I these stories.

I think I was more interested in them than my Brett (my brother).

You see, this was around the time when Disney’s Pocahontas came out and my dad had told me that I was the current princess of the Left-Two tribe.

Now, being a genius 4-year-old, I freaked out. Me! A Native American Princess!

And I believed him wholeheartedly.

For the next 6-7 years I only wanted Pocahontas things. Pocahontas pjs, Pocahontas dolls, Pocahontas plates… I was a little excited.

 

 

One of the stories I remember him telling us, is the story about our cousin “Falling Rock”

We were driving up to my grandparents cabin in BC one summer and my brother and I were being super annoying because two kids in the car for more than 3 hours is not fun. (And this was before the time of game-boys and portable DVD players. The Dark Age.)

So my dad told us this story to shut us up probably.

He pointed to 2 signs in the mountains.

watch-out-for-falling-rocks

falling-rock

He sighed and says “They’re still looking for her I guess.”

And being the curious little kids that we where we asked “Who Daddy?”

“Your cousin Falling Rock”

Our cousin?

Long ago, Falling Rock left the tribe to pick some blueberries in the woods and then she got lost. These signs were put up around the country in places where she’s been seen.

For the rest of the trip, Brett and I had our eyes glued to the mountains to see if we could find her.

 

We were quiet. And that made my parents happy.

Clever Daddy.

 

He would also trick us into thinking that if we touched our noses, the truck would honk all by itself.

So Brett and I would (with as much stealth as a 4 and 5-year-old could have), touch our noses and the truck would honk!

Magic!

(Or the fact that my dad would look in the mirror and see us doing it, but we weren’t that smart to figure him out.)

 

I can’t remember many of the other stories that my father told me but I haven’t even got to the best part of THIS story yet.

 

When I was in Grade 4, we were studying Native American groupsĀ in Canada. We were required to write an essay on one of the groups in Canada.

And gullible little me decided to do my essay on the Left-Two tribe.

For the next few weeks I hounded my dad with questions on them. Where are they from? Who were they? What did they do?

Why couldn’t they couldn’t get government aid like other Aboriginal groups?

“No one knew about us because we wouldn’t come out of the bush so we aren’t in the history books.” He said.

Ah, yes, I should have seen that one coming. Stupid stupid me.

 

I never told him why I was asking him these questions, and he just thought I was curious. (He knew I was still obsessed with Pocahontas so he just humoured me.)

And he came up with even mores stories.

By the time I was done, I had a 10 page essay on my ‘ancestors’.

I made a colourful title page and added pictures too.

Legit stuff.

 

And guess what?

I got 100% on it.

My teacher couldn’t prove that there wasn’t a tribe called the Left-Two’s given what happened in the past with the Natives.

And also, I’m a damn good writer.

But you already know that don’t you?

 

And you know what?

I don’t care if it was all made up.

They’re still stories that have been passed down in my family and I intend to share them with my family. (If that ever happens which is waaaaaaay down the road.)

I still consider myself the Princess of the Left-Two tribe and no one can tell me otherwise.

 

And I wish with all my power that I still had that essay from 4th Grade. It would have been SO funny to read it now.

 

Sorry about the lack of pictures. I don’t have any photos of my past with me. Although, if I were in Calgary, I would upload a photo of me by our couch at Easter wearing my Pocahontas pjs, a replica necklaceĀ that Pocahontas wore, holding up my new Pocahontas plate, along with wearing a big grin on my face with my two front teeth that were sideways and a bit of a unibrow goin’ on. Oh, and Brett is beside me, covered, (and I mean COVERED) in chocolate while stuffing his face with chocolate eggs from MY basket.

 

It’s a miracle that kid is still alive. I take my chocolate very seriously.