13 Lives

by Michael Pawlowski

  He amazed himself with his ability to learn skills. The first job did not pay much, but it was clerical. Fortunately there was a strange unexplained reality at the time: workers were leaving jobs to be employed elsewhere. That gave Brent and all others in similar positions opportunities to advance. He was not going to be hampered.

  During employment, no one knew about his native heritage. He kept that a secret, and worked the silence to his benefit. At one point he had to provide a copy of his birth certificate. When it finally arrived, there was no mention of his parents’ native status. That happened quite often, he was later told: almost an act of kindness by the maternity ward.

  His parents remained an active part of his life, until his mother’s death. His father remarried less than a year later and moved on, leaving Brent by himself. Work soothed his solace, and fortunately provided a further opportunity for promotion. He learned fast, taking the necessary courses. The office on Bay Street had become his second home. Brent appreciated the opportunities the insurance realm gave him to help others. He was loath to mention this appetite to his co-workers as many had already considered him somewhat strange. Nonetheless, Brent was always able to smile at the end of the day.

  As he read the adjuster’s report with all of the specifics of vehicle damage and investigation, Brent quietly hummed his usual litany of tunes from the movie ‘Oklahoma’. The independent adjuster’s report was formatted in the usual style: identity, policy particulars, police report, cause and damages. Reports had become rather repetitious with the style being copied in each letter. Ultimately everyone claimed innocence and more damages than had actually occurred. Honesty was no longer a factor. The only variable in the perception of honesty was the truth; and it was his role to determine reality. In that respect he was no different from any other adjuster, being the investigator and judge on every decision. It was not easy for Brent because he really wanted to please everyone. Unfortunately, insured persons, the claimants and his employer did not all share the same interest. Claims handlers were always being told they were paying more than they should. Having to report to the shareholders in some foreign land was the duty of management.

  “Surrey with the Fringe on Top” was interrupted by Dorothy’s telephone call. This was not his favourite client, as she pestered him at least every second day regarding his liability investigation even though the woman clearly ran a red light.

  The rest of the afternoon started to drag with the daily queries concerning the whereabouts of their department ­manager.

  Ross was clearly a decrepit middle-aged individual who had the morals of a tom cat, and the drinking capacity of a fish. The truth, as ugly as it was, confirmed the rumours that Ross was personally delivering new claim reports to an independent adjusting firm so it could earn fees in exchange for booze, stag films and hookers—at least twice per week. Senior management knew about the fiasco as, on several occasions, Ross in his drunken state had been sent home early. After a while even the office manager in his polluted condition knew enough not to return to the office before five o’clock. That way he wouldn’t be seen and would avoid being chastised. Two years later Ross died in an accident. He had stumbled into a car for a ride home with a drunk driver. The front page of the newspaper the next morning pictured Ross partially hanging outside the passenger window with the vehicle still wrapped around a light standard. That was the bleaker side of the insurance industry, in particular that office. Not everyone was one hundred percent committed to their job and public service. However, Brent was.

  Before leaving the office that night, he packed the necessary papers in his satchel. Among these, there was a proof of loss form. The burglary had been astonishingly quick, suggesting to the police that the culprit had known the total layout of the residence. The homeowners were aware of this and suspected their long lost son. Accordingly, they wanted the entire issue resolved hastily. The police had their suspicions and the family had their interests. Whether they would even continue with the claim was also questionable.

  Brent was most diligent in his discussion with the family. After more than an hour discussing alternatives and figures, the proof of loss was signed for a figure far less than the amount stolen. They recorded the cause as ‘mysterious disappearance’. That way the police would discontinue their enquiries, and any suspicion of their son would be dropped. They smiled as Brent concluded the meeting with the assurance to have the funds issued the next day.

  He had looked at the elderly couple throughout the meeting, admiring their obvious love for one another. “How beautiful!” Brent always cherished such scenes of familial intimacy where smiles conveyed such happiness together. At the same time he regretted that he would never personally experience such wonder. It wasn’t that he had given up on that prospect. He had loved and had lost. Once was enough. Actually, Brent had never married. He and the young lady chose to live common-law. Having met her seven years prior, he always felt it would last ­forever.

  Ariane was her name. From the first instant, they seemed so totally committed to one another. Even their heritage, though not from the same clan or tribe, drew them together. In fact, that awareness created an effervescent energy as they were both clearly committed to their ancestors and to their lives together in all aspects of the world’s allurement.

  Ariane’s name alone established a mystical aspect to their relationship. Brent loved the study of the antiquities, especially Greek mythology. He recognized that her name was derived from Ariadne who was the daughter of King Minos and thus the grand-daughter of Zeus. Ariadne was in charge of the labyrinths that were designed to protect those to be sacrificed to Zeus. However she decided to free the captives, thus creating conflict between the deities and humans. In similar fashion, Ariane was a most merciful person, always keenly interested in the tribulations of the impoverished while wishing to do as much as possible with the little they could afford.

  Her wide brown eyes clearly displayed her various emotions. They were so demonstrably expressive. Her smiles, her grins and troubled expressions were also easy to discern. Her tawny complexion appeared to embrace a heart overflowing with desire. Nothing could be concealed. There was no hurdle she did not try to jump or mountain she could not climb. Her long black naturally-matted hair was more often than not curled with various beads. Feathers she never wore as she questioned the idea of depriving any bird or water fowl of the means for its natural warmth. Ariane was very much a vegetarian, reserving meat for only one meal per week. As a cook she surpassed expectations.

  Ariane rarely left the house without Brent. He drove the car; she did not. He carried the groceries, opened doors and maintained the yard. Brent did everything a gentleman was supposed to do, and appropriately she let him. She wanted to be dependent upon him.

  Brent had met Ariane during his first trip to Montreal. Expo 67 beckoned them as it did so many millions. Together with three young men from the Rama Reserve, with whom he had stayed in touch, they completed the trek in a 1964 Cougar Convertible. The vehicle belonged to the father of one of the passengers. Brent happened to be the only one with a license, so he became the designated driver. During the trip, the son, whose father owned the car, mentioned Kahnawake. The suggestion was made because of his acquaintance with members of the community, and as they needed an inexpensive place to stay.

  It was about two hours before midnight when they arrived. Accordingly the greeting was polite among aboriginal persons. Two of the vehicle’s passengers were offered rooms in an old log house. Sleep was not the best. The next morning, Brent met Ariane. By midday they were to have been at the Expo site. Brent delayed leaving as long as possible, just to be around the young lady even though her chores confined her to the smoke house.

  The connection was made, and both young persons were aroused. Two weeks later, Brent returned to Montreal by train. It was wonderful being young.

  By the time ‘Man and His World’ continued Expo’s legacy
in the summer of 1968, Ariane and Brent were living together in Toronto. From the start she felt rather uncomfortable within the big city. At least being outside Montreal gave her some independence and allowed her to be part of the rural community—their natural environs. Conversations shared prospects for their future. However, regardless of their dreams, there always remained the impact of their present lifestyle on their ability to maintain their heritage. Brent willingly talked of his parents, especially his father’s prowess and success. He did so to convince Ariane that there was a benefit to partly forsaking the past. But in doing so, he ultimately had to admit that he did not know of his father’s whereabouts. That bothered Brent more and more with time.

  Ariane’s story was remarkably different. She advised that her parents could trace ancestors on her mother’s side to Arizona and the Shoshone tribe. At times, she wasn’t so sure and used to also mention Hopi and Pueblo. There was vagueness as to exactly when and why her mother came to Quebec. The more that Ariane spoke about it, the more evident it became that it was against her will. There remained within the young woman the inkling to return to the southwest and more fully explore her heritage. The description in books of the western United States was too generic. Television westerns had done her ancestors injustice.

  Socially, Brent and Ariane were not active. Whereas he had successfully disguised his native appearance, she chose to remain ‘faithful’ to her culture. She never verbally questioned him about such matters, but in her heart she knew who she was, and was not willing to obscure that. Beads continued to adorn her dark hair. Her attire displayed her dark tanned arms, shoulders and legs. Sandals were the norm. She never once wore high heels. Accordingly, office summer picnics and Christmas socials were not on the agenda. Religion was a questionable item with more faith being attributed to her lore and customs. Attendance at any church was not a ritual.

  It was in September of 1973 that Brent was suddenly consumed with the necessity to talk with someone. Events in late 1972 had taken their toll. For almost a year they lay buried. He continued with work diligently while his dreams were obscured by a sudden sand storm.

  Ariane ventured to Arizona after Labour Day that year. With Brent’s concurrence she was to affirm her heritage and experience the southwest native traditions. Prior to her departure, she had talked about her “El Pueblo Llano”, her ‘common people’. She was clearly searching for that missing ingredient in her past and Brent cherished her inquisitiveness. Ariane telephoned several times after her arrival, and then the phone went silent. She never returned. Brent held out hope considering all that they had shared together. They both belonged to the expansive influence of the Mohawk culture. That had given them both a heritage to share. Although he never reckoned it, she wanted more than just the past. Ariane wanted the present. She wanted to live the aboriginal life. Brent, however, remained pragmatic. He knew all too well he could not totally embrace the native lifestyle while expecting to provide for his spouse away from the reserve. Returning to the restrictions of Indian culture for him would never happen.

  The author of this text was the fortunate one to be entrusted with the account of Brent’s life. He worked in Brent’s office. Their desks, long before the age of cubicles, were distant from each other. The author was one of only a select few to never question Brent’s lifestyle. Some of the office chatter even spread rumours that his girlfriend left because Brent was ‘gay’. How they ever knew she left, Brent could only guess. The comments hurt, deeply at times, affecting his emotional stability. Yet, he was man enough to dispel their adversarial impact when it came time to helping the public. Whatever the rumours or innuendoes may have suggested, Brent held firm to the hope that Ariane would return. However, time is not always the optimist’s friend.

  Our first meeting took place on a Friday night after work. Brent’s revelations caused considerable dismay, a reaction that coloured further information during subsequent discussions.

  Brent remained passive, and at times out of character for several months after our initial conversation. Charity and friendship ultimately provided opportunities to talk some more when the occasion seemed right. In the summer of 1974, Brent applied for an internal promotion. The door closed quickly, favouring another employee whose work-ethic was far less than acceptable. Brent and so many in the office and in fact in the entire industry knew that it was not an issue of how well you did, but who you knew.

  Once the door closed, Brent realized his time with the company was at an end. Before Thanksgiving of 1974, he was gone. Someone suggested he was working for an insurance company near Barrie. Another co-worker suggested the destination was east toward Ottawa. Brent was not heard from after he left the office. The legacy of a particular Native Canadian excelling with an insurance company on Bay Street was never recorded. The sad reality, according to his own conclusion, was that if management had ever known of his ancestral background, he would never have been hired, let alone given the chance to advance.

  More than three decades later, Brent’s seven-line obituary appeared in the newspaper.

  5

  KAREN

  The brutality of her rape stunned the listener. Suddenly the vibrant soul had become a pathetic quivering wretch. Incoherent phrases recounted the loss of her innocence. Enraged expressions continued, declaring the totality of her violation, a devastating act that more than a decade later could without warning cause her emotions to suddenly erupt.

  Her supervisor always scheduled employee interviews after normal work hours. By 5:10PM the office was routinely empty. This generally provided adequate time without interruptions to discuss performance and set personal objectives.

  Karen was a devoted employee. Her customer service was incredible. In the public evaluation forms no one ever complained of her performance. She was well on her way to completing her associateship courses that were routinely recommended for all staff. However, in her case, she was clearly exceeding expectations: completing the required curriculum faster than anticipated. Karen had many friends within the office, making her a valuable asset with respect to teamwork.

  Not much was ever known about any employee’s personal life. Vague questions concerning such were no longer allowed during the initial interview or at any time thereafter. Staff got to meet spouses or friends at Christmas parties. Some workers might have mentioned their families or vacations. However, between a supervisor and the worker, personal matters were a forbidden realm.

  Karen was a slight individual, maybe five foot two inches. Her pale complexion suggested she had an aversion to sun light. She was frail suggesting a vegetarian diet. Her dark hair was short, and cleanly scented. She took care of herself to the same extent she took care of her clients.

  Describing Karen’s activities as a team player was a simple task. She participated in every company event, and attended every staff gathering or party. Laughter was so common: not at people but with them. She knew how to converse freely and at times controlled endless conversations. Two drinks at any gathering were her limit. She made everyone certain of that. There were many such social events. Several employees opened their houses to such festivities: summer barbecues, Thanksgiving, Valentine’s Day or birthdays. Accordingly, the department received many accolades regarding how well everyone worked together.

  Other events within the department were not going so well. The supervisor had to deal with a reality that his own boss—the regional manager—was absolutely disliked. There were issues of insufficient wages and minimal salary increases. His style gave no confidence to any promise. Affecting that whole scenario were two major issues. Most insurance companies were not awarding significant salary increases to existing staff. If a worker wanted more than two percent increase, he or she had to join another company. Then there was the world wide inflation crisis with universal rates ranging between 14% and 22%. Young workers had loans and credit cards forcing them into the world of ­persistent collection agencies. It was n
ot a good time for any employee. Thus a heavier onus fell upon a supervisor to be most assuring in a tone that calmed tensions and encouraged hope.

  Those were the variables to be considered on that late afternoon in February, 1981. The office was small with lightly coloured walls and an opaque-glass door. The supervisor was ready to praise the employee, assure her of an immediate 1.5% increase in salary with an accompanying pledge for a further increase on her anniversary date. He did however have two other comments to make. These were essential as no employee could ever be made to feel they were achieving one hundred percent efficiency.

  In the month prior, Karen had settled a total loss claim on an older vehicle when the broker was adamant that the insured person had arranged for the vehicle to be torched. The insurance broker did not want his loss record at all affected by such criminal matters. He had already assured himself that the circumstances affirmed his decision. That insured person had previously lived on the regional native reserve, and the torched remains were found in a field about one mile from the insured person’s residence. That older vehicles were being reported as stolen and found torched on the reserve was not an uncommon occurrence. In that particular case, the police had limited investigation as the torched vehicle gave no clue as to who had driven it there or why it was set on fire. However, there always remained the common query, “Who has the most to gain?”

  Karen had taken a meticulous approach in handling that file. After her own research and realizing the police investigation could not support a denial, she arranged for the settlement. The amount was well within her settlement authority.

  The supervisor’s second issue involved another claim: the theft of stock. The merchant’s expertise was ‘Canadiana’. His stock was predominantly Arctic prints and Inuit carvings. There were few people at the time who valued such commodities. Most of this vendor’s stock had been sold to visitors and tourists particularly American. The evaluation of replacement cost was thus a perplexing issue. With respect to the crime, the Police had no leads. The front door was clearly damaged. There was no requirement for an alarm. Prior sales were significant, and the merchant had no reason to believe that they would not continue.