It takes some doing to bring a book into the world. Despite the solitary seat at the desk or table, none of us ever really do it alone. I know I don’t. I never have. This book took an awful lot of doing, and it was helped immeasurably by the editing prowess of Barbara Pulling and the indefatigable loyalty of my agent, John Pearce of Westwood Creative Artists. Also, the Canada Council for the Arts for the helping hand, Chris Labonté at Douglas & McIntyre for believing, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission for being there for the survivors of Canada’s residential schools, and Justice Murray Sinclair for the friendship and the example. To Bebo, Juke, Johnny, Star, Josephine C., Kenny O., Peter R., Hank T., I have never forgotten your stories and your experiences with the schools. Even if you’re gone now, the spirit of them, and you, are here somewhere. Miigwetch. To the Bears, Chiefs, Spirit, Wolves, Bandits and all the unnamed Native hockey teams that taught me the joy and exhilaration of the game and the shining glory of the rink, a tap on the shin pads and a whack on the fanny for the gift. To my wingers, Bob Lee, Ron Ste. Marie, Ron Tronson, Peter Mutrie and Vaughan Begg, thanks for helping me keep my stick on the ice and my feet moving toward the goal always. To Nancy Mutrie, Wanda Tronson, Jennifer Ste. Marie, Pam Lee, Blanca Schorcht and Shelagh Rogers, heartfelt gratitude for the loyalty through the slumps and the celebrations. But mostly, to my wife, Debra Powell, who shows me every day how to be a winner, you are the shining glory of my life.