My parents raised me to be free. I could stay with other family members like my sisters or brothers for a period of time. Every time my parents wanted me to stay in the country or stay in the bay for the fall, I hid and avoided them so I could stay in Davis Inlet with my sister or brother. I was used to the new community by now. I especially liked the movies the priest showed on Thursdays and Sundays. My parents always seemed to know where I was staying.

I have good and bad memories of growing up in Davis Inlet. I remember looking forward to Halloween and Christmas. Near Christmas, the Hercules military jets would fly around the community to parachute Christmas supplies for the missionary to hand out. It was fascinating to watch the supplies getting thrown out of those big planes and the parachutes coming down slowly from the sky. The only other time we saw parachutes coming down was in war movies. The crates would sometimes hit hard on recently frozen ice and all the goodies inside would be all over the place. As children we would run toward them, ignoring the priest yelling that we should be careful or we’d get hit by crates. The high winds sometimes carried the parachuted crates into a wooded area. It was an opportunity for young men to search and hide some of the stuff they claimed they found.