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A News Article about Intergenerational Trauma

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A News Article about Intergenerational Trauma

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"The intergenerational trauma of First Nations still runs deep", by KEVIN BERUBE of the Globe and Mail

Guiding Question 1:  What is intergenerational (or transgenerational) trauma, and w hy are First Nations people plagued so severely by this psychological problem?

Guiding Question 2:   What is the impact of intergenerational trauma on First Nations communities today?

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Imagine a knock on your door. You open it and are met by strangers accompanied by a police officer. These people are speaking a different language so you don't understand what they're saying. Eventually, you come to the surreal realization that they've come for your children. There is some time given to pack clothes and say goodbye. Any resistance is met with the threat of arrest by the police. You're not sure where your children are going or if you will ever see them again. You're wondering what you did wrong. You have no idea what is happening as you helplessly watch this nightmare unfold before your eyes.

How does an event like this affect the child? The parents? The community?

This sounds like something that happened long ago, somewhere far away, but this was the reality only a half-century ago with the residential-school education project across Canada and the Sixties Scoop - the "scooping up" of First Nations children by the planeload for adoption, under the guise of protection, unbeknownst to their family and community across North America and Europe.

Can communities simply learn to move on, or will these two remarkable events in Canadian history reverberate through future generations - and for how long?

Many years after the last residential school closed its doors and most of the First Nations children taken from their homes through child welfare removal were returned, these events continue to have an impact on individuals, families and communities.

Intergenerational trauma, or transgenerational trauma, is what happens when untreated trauma-related stress experienced by survivors is passed on to second and subsequent generations. The trauma inflicted by residential schools and the Sixties Scoop was significant, and the scope of the damage these events wrought wouldn't be truly understood until years later.

Intergenerational trauma is usually seen within one family in which the parents or grandparents were traumatized, and each generation of that family continues to experience trauma in some form. In these cases the source can usually be traced back to a devastating event, and the trauma is unique to that family.

What makes the intergenerational trauma in the case of First Nations people different is that it wasn't the result of a targeted event against an individual - it was a set of government policies that targeted and affected a whole generation. Children were traumatized when they were taken from their parents and placed into either government-funded, church-controlled, residential learning institutions or into foster homes. Many children suffered horrific abuse while in these homes and institutions. And parents and communities were traumatized when their children were taken away from them with little or no idea if or when they would return.

Direct survivors of these experiences often transmit the trauma they experienced to later generations when they don't recognize or have the opportunity to address their issues. Over the course of time these behaviours, often destructive, become normalized within the family and their community, leading to the next generation suffering the same problems.

Many self-destructive behaviours can result from unresolved trauma. Depression, anxiety, family violence, suicidal and homicidal thoughts and addictions are some of the behaviours our mental health therapists see when working with clients who have experienced direct or intergenerational trauma. In most cases, the self-destructive behaviour exists because the client is having a difficult time dealing with the pain of remembering the past, or trying to survive an abusive situation now.

Talking with a mental-health therapist can help break the cycle of trauma. Family therapy may also be required to prevent behaviours continuing among the younger generation. The goals of the therapeutic relationship are to acknowledge the negative behaviour; help the individual and their family make the connection between the behaviour and the historical trauma; introduce healthy alternatives and coping mechanisms; and provide support and feedback to the individual and family as they carry on with their lives.

People reaching out for help may seek the support of traditional healers to assist them on their healing journey. Traditional healing, along with conventional therapeutic methods, have been effective tools in addressing intergenerational trauma. We must always be mindful to put the individual at the centre of the healing plan, critical not just in working with trauma survivors, but in the development of any patient plan that is going to yield the best outcomes. We need to recognize that patients know themselves better than anyone, and services should work together to consider their holistic needs.
Health Advisor contributors share their knowledge in fields ranging from fitness to psychology, pediatrics to aging. Kevin Berube is director of the Mental Health and Addictions Program at the Sioux Lookout Meno Ya Win Health Centre, which provides health services to 30 First Nations communities in Northwestern Ontario. A band member of Flying Post First Nation, he has more than 20 years of experience in child welfare, mental health and addictions working with First Nations communities.

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The intergenerational trauma of First Nations still runs deep

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Imagine a knock on your door. You open it and are met by strangers accompanied by a police officer. These people are speaking a different language so you don't understand what they're saying. Eventually, you come to the surreal realization that they've come for your children.

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NOTE:  this interview includes graphic details related to suicide.  As a result, you may choose to skip this interview and move on to the 2nd one below.

Watch this video on EdPuzzle and answer the questions that pop up as you watch:

Funky 05s:
https://edpuzzle.com/assignments/60ae766fb60e424176c66e5a/watch

Slick748s:
https://edpuzzle.com/assignments/60ae766f06d7f641624bc4bc/watch

Thunderous 03s:
https://edpuzzle.com/assignments/60ae766f4d544d415ffc68b1/watch

Smooth 07s:
https://edpuzzle.com/assignments/60ae766f4830604109a0ac4b/watch

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Joseph Boyden on George Stroumboulopoulos Tonight: INTERVIEW

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Easily create beautiful interactive video lessons for your students you can integrate right into your LMS. Track students' progress with hassle-free analytics as you flip your classroom!

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Part 1: 0:00 to 10:18   TRUTH
Boyden speaks of the legacy of residential schools and intergenerational trauma
Guiding Question:  How does the telling of the Chanie Wenjack story through this novella help expose the reality of intergenerational trauma?

Part 2:  12:32 to  18:15  RECONCILIATION
Boyden suggests how to heal the wounds of the past and to move forward as a nation.... a real nation.
Guiding Question:   How does Camp Onakawana help heal the wounds of intergenerational trauma?

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Guiding Question:  What lines from this song refer to intergenerational trauma?

A Tribe Called Red are socially engaged musicians telling stories and raising awareness about various forms of social injustice towards Indigenous communities, both past and present.

A Tribe Called Red were part of the artistic collective, including musician/poet Gord Downie, author, Joseph Boyden, and graphic novelist, Jeff Lemire, that coordinated the release of their respective projects with the 50th anniversary of Chanie Wenjack's death (Oct-Nov 2016)

CBC Music named their 2016 album, We are the Halluci Nation, the NUMBER ONE ALBUM OF THE YEAR!

Before you click "play" below, open the lyrics in the box below:

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Open this Word Doc and read the lyrics while you listen to the song using the link above.

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"Chanie Wenjakck: A Heritage Minute", written by Joseph Boyden

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"How Chanie Wenjack chose Jospeh Boyden",  by Joseph Boyden
Guiding Question:
Boyden refers to Canada as a haunted house.   Explain the efforts of artists such as Boyden, Jeff Lemire, Gord Downie, and so many others to "exorcise demons" so we don't have to live in a haunted house any more.

From Maclean's magazine, an article written by Boyden himself that describes and explains the artistic explosion surrounding last year's  50th anniversary of Chanie Wenjack's death.

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The story has all the hallmarks of great tragedy: an innocent boy lost in the vast wilds of northern Ontario in late October. He's desperately trying to make his way home as the weather begins its brutal turn. Underdressed for these harsh wilds and with nothing but a few matches in his pocket, he's starved and shivering. He's driven by the simple desire to be back home with his parents and sisters and two beloved dogs. But what's most frightening is that the boy is pursued by a dark and sick menace even as his illness-wracked body begins to weaken. What this poor child doesn't understand as he limps along a lonely stretch of railroad tracks, night falling and a hard sleet pelting his wretched form, is that home is an impossible 600 km away.

What makes this story even more tragic is that it's true. The boy's name was Chanie Wenjack, a 12-year-old Ojibwe boy who was found dead beside that lonely stretch of railroad tracks 50 years ago, on Oct. 22, 1966. He'd run away from Cecelia Jeffreys Industrial Indian School a number of days before, on Oct. 16, a Sunday, with two friends who were brothers. None of them had planned this escape on that unseasonably warm autumn afternoon, scrambling over a chain link fence and then following a secret path so many of the schoolchildren had used before to skirt around the town of Kenora and into the bush in their attempts to just get home. All to this point had returned voluntarily or had been caught, but Chanie and the two brothers were especially driven.

A few years ago now, Mike Downie, the brother of the Tragically Hip's singer Gord Downie, found an article written in this very magazine way back in 1967; he introduced it to Gord, and then Gord to me. The author, Ian Adams, deftly recounts Chanie's escape and sad demise, as well as the ensuing public inquiry into his death, the first that I am aware of in Canada in regards to these schools. The all-white jury came to a number of conclusions, including this: "The Indian education system causes tremendous emotional and adjustment problems." The jury also requested that "a study be made of the present Indian education and philosophy," asking, simply, "Is it right?" I'm not sure who in provincial or federal government ever read any of these findings. I assume it didn't make its way up many chains of command at all. It took 30 years after Chanie's death for the last residential school in this country to close its doors, in 1996.

MORE: Read the story that inspired it all

I don't want to assume much on Gord's behalf, but I think it's safe to say that the image of this little boy just trying to get home haunted him as much as it did me. Mike and Gord and I bandied about a few ideas for a short time, a possible collaboration of some kind-maybe a small book followed by a film-but ultimately we ended up going into our own creative corners to work individually, keeping each other abreast of what we were doing. It was Gord who was first struck by the idea of creating something that could be released on the 50th anniversary of Chanie's passing. Gord, along with powerhouse musicians Kevin Drew, Kevin Hearn and others went into the studio and created Secret Path, a sparse and gorgeous 10-song record encompassing poems Gord had written about Chanie. Gord then asked the acclaimed graphic novelist and artist Jeff Lemire to create a book in images, telling the story on the page that acts as a beautiful new dimension while listening to the record.

In my own corner, I'd been working on a novel called Seven Matches I hoped to finish in time for an October 2016 release date. I got so close, but realized that if I pushed too hard and too fast it wasn't going to work. Once you put a novel into the world, you can't just clear your throat and excuse yourself and ask for it back so you can make it better. After months of rushing to try and finish it, with nights of lost sleep and worrying my fingernails to the quick as my deadline approached, my brilliant friend and publisher, Nicole Winstanley at Penguin, sat down with me and gently urged me to take a breath and a step back. She knows me well. She could feel my stress.

She understood the conundrum: not only were Gord and artistic company putting out Secret Path in the coming October, but I had asked a few amazing Indigenous friends if they'd create their own pieces as well. The Metis filmmaker Terril Calder was hard at work on her haunting stop motion film called Keewaydeh, and the DJ collective and genius music makers A Tribe Called Red had also come on board and included some spoken word tracks on their album We Are The Halluci Nation, dedicated to the young boy. And here I was, lamely about to tell everyone that I just couldn't get that novel done in time.

The idea of a number of artists of different backgrounds releasing their works into the world on the 50th anniversary of that boy's passing, was too important to give up on.

We'd all agreed to release our creations unannounced near Chanie's anniversary, maybe create a ripple effect as we got most Canadians to hear his name from many different quarters and for the first time, a name so familiar and yet so foreign on an English tongue. Wenjack? Wenjack. What does it mean? Who is he? All involved and toiling on our projects want Canadians to feel our gathered breath as each of us, in our own small way, try to breathe back life into a child who died so unnecessarily, so tragically, and almost, almost forgotten.

Nicole suggested I write a long story, a novella, in commemoration instead. Nicole's never steered me wrong. And the act of being channeled by the boy named Chanie Wenjack and by the manitous, the spirits of the forest who follow him and comment upon his plight, made me fall back in love with the act of writing again.

But why this particular boy? Why did we all choose to make Chanie Wenjack our focus when the brutal fact of the matter is that we had literally thousands of Indigenous children who also perished in residential schools we might have morbidly considered? I'm being asked this a lot this last week or so. I can only answer this question for myself. All I can say is this: I believe that Chanie Wenjack chose me, and not me him. Only a single photo of Chanie exists, a photo that his sister Pearl was kind enough and tough enough and giving enough to share. A sepia-toned and worn print of a young Ojibwe boy with black, tussled hair, the boy leaning slightly on a pine wall outside somewhere north, with one skinny leg crossed over the other all casual, his rubber boots too big for him and his hands held together in the slight grip we all sometimes do that betrays a bit of nervousness, possibly, at being photographed. But what's most striking in the photo is his face. Sweetness is the word that comes to me when I stare at it. His eyes are slightly narrowed and his round cheeks highlight a smile that tells you everything you need to know. He's good. He's kind. He's shy. He's going to be something great one day. He already is, and I can just bet that he makes every one of his family feel a tinge of warmth, of happiness, when he walks into a room. Chanie's smile chose me. It dared me to try and decipher him. Chanie Wenjack's cruel and unnecessary death 50 years ago, I realize, isn't a story of innocence lost. It is Canada's story of innocence violently taken.

MORE: Chanie Wenjack wasn't the only runaway. Read the stories of two more boys.

Why Chanie Wenjack, you might still ask? Because Canada is a haunted house. A really smart man I know named Stephen Marche dropped that line on me one day awhile back. It felt like he'd pulled the pin from a grenade and casually dropped it in my lap. Canada is a haunted house. He didn't explain anything else or ask me for anything in return, just said this and left it for me to either defuse or let explode. I've been thinking about this a lot the last while.

Another friend, the Kwagiulth artist Carey Newman, challenged me further to explore this. This is what I feel: we Canadians have a lot of bones in our basements. Secrets in our attics. Stains on our bedsheets that we've carelessly flung into the hamper and left to fester. The sepia glimpse of a sullen Cree child's face at her school desk when we walk our own kid to school on a brilliant autumn morning. The flash of an Inuit boy dead by his own hand forcing us to close our closet door too fast. The weeping of a young Sto:lo girl left raped and bleeding by her teacher chasing us up from our darkened laundry room.

Maybe the statement needs to become a question: do we want to live in a haunted house for the rest of our lives?

The time for a national reckoning has arrived. The original peoples of Canada have suffered through a multi-generational cultural genocide. We have experienced genocide as if it's a tsunami in slow motion. We have witnessed a brutal tide rise up for seven generations, destroying homes, swallowing families, drowning our children.

But the Indigenous people of our country are nothing if not resilient. And patient. And tough. This tsunami has reached its high-water mark. It finally recedes. It is up to all of those who are brave enough, resourceful enough, kind enough, tough enough; it is up to the artists, but also the construction workers and doctors and cab drivers and lawyers and the unemployed, the cops and baristas and housewives and fathers-to-be, to become the beachcombers of this nation, to wander the wrecked shorelines and gather the remnants, the glittering detritus of so many destroyed lives and begin to help in patching it back together again. We all know that it won't be as it once was. We can't go home that way again.

Maybe, though, maybe, something like the many retellings of Chanie Wenjack's life, or the gorgeously subversive paintings of Kent Monkman, or Carey Newman's Witness Blanket Project, or Gord Downie's Secret Path, or Katherine Vermette's The Break will show all of us not just what was lost but also what hasn't been lost. Can't be taken away. Perhaps there is such a thing as an exorcism through art.

The great tragedy, the great stain of our country, is that Chanie's story is shared by thousands of Indigenous families across our country. Thousands of children were forcefully ripped from their homes and their parents and their languages and religions and songs and siblings and cultures, only to die while in the custody of strangers sworn to their care. Chanie Wenjack isn't alone. This needs repeating: The Truth and Reconciliation Commission has collected the names of thousands of children who perished while in these schools and never returned home. The TRC fears the number may be as high as 30,000.

Please, I ask you, dear reader, don't skip over that number. Please contemplate it. Take the time and effort to count out 1,000 pennies and then toss them onto the floor of your kitchen. Then do it many more times. On the next clear night, sit with your own child under the dizzying array of stars and begin counting till you both become too tired. And do this every clear evening for a whole summer. Pick up where you left off and continue it the next summers again. Perhaps sit down one day soon and begin to read the names of the children the TRC has collected so far. Whisper them, shout them, absorb them. Just don't let them be forgotten. Think of them as your own children. But for Chanie's sake, and the sakes of so many thousands more, let's all decide not to live in a haunted house any longer.
Chanie Wenjack wasn't alone. We've told the tragic and forgotten stories of two more boys escaping residential school. With your help, we can tell more. Find out how, here.

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How Chanie Wenjack chose Joseph Boyden - Macleans.ca

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The story has all the hallmarks of great tragedy: an innocent boy lost in the vast wilds of northern Ontario in late October. He's desperately trying to make his way home as the weather begins its brutal turn. Underdressed for these harsh wilds and with nothing but a few matches in his pocket, he's starved and shivering.

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Guiding Question:   Why was Gord Downie named the "2016 Newsmaker of the Year"?

From the CBC website, a one-on-one interview with entertainment reporter David Friend that explains WHY Gord Downie was named 2016 Newsmaker of the Year.

Click the link below:

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How Gord Downie came to be named the Canadian Press Newsmaker of the Year

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Canadian Press entrainment reporter David Friend joins CBC News Network's Natasha Fatah to explain why Gord Downie was given the title.

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Video of a performance with an interview.   

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Video of a performance with an interview.   

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Episode 1 of the music program on iTunes, The House of Strombo, features the DJ collective from Ottawa, A Tribe Called Red.

This show includes a mix of musical performance and interviews.
To answer the guiding questions below, pay particular attention to what the DJs say in the interview segments.
0:00 to 6:00:  Introduction and opening song.
6:00 to 8:17:  Interview part 1
17:40 to 19:50: Interview Part 2
22:32 to 23:44:  Interview Part 3

Guiding Question 1:   George Strombo and DJ Bear Witness (seated in the middle) make reference to an international movement that is currently taking place in Canada AND the outside world.  What is this movement that is "exploding across the world"?

Guiding Question 2:  What do these 3 DJs actually DO in their sets and their concerts to promote change and act as role models?

Enjoy the great music... and the great message!

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From CBC radio's program called "Q" , a conversation between journalist, Candy Palmater, and author/activist, Joseph Boyden, on his recently released novella Wenjack.

"I want the reader to be Chanie"
Guiding Question 1: What is one of the main causes of inter-generational trauma, according to Mr. Boyden?

Guiding Question 2: Why did Boyden decide to tell Chanie's story from the point of view of forest "critters", such as the crow, a pike, and a wood tick?

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This year marks the 50th anniversary of Chanie Wenjack's death.

The story of the Ojibwe boy who died in 1966 after running away from a northern Ontario residential school has touched many people across the nation - it has haunted writer Joseph Boyden.

"His voice really does come to me in this beautiful, quiet way," Boyden tells Candy Palmater.

Boyden has channeled these voices into a new novella named Wenjack, one of many projects being released this week to honour this important anniversary.

Artist and friend Gord Downie will release an album and graphic novel about Wenjack called Secret Path and the imagineNATIVE Film and Media Arts Festival will be screening a film about him and all former students of residential schools.

Boyden hopes art can help further the conversation on indigenous issues in Canada. "As artists, we're able to say, 'Let's all focus on this,'" he explains. "There's a lot of resilience going on and it's something that I think more Canadians are going to hear more and more about."

He calls Wenjack a "little book with a big heart," and he hopes that anyone who picks up the book will be able to feel the sadness, hope and empathy behind the story. "I want the reader to be Chanie."

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"I want the reader to be Chanie": Joseph Boyden tells Chanie Wenjack's story | CBC Radio

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This year marks the 50th anniversary of Chanie Wenjack's death. The story of the Ojibwe boy who died in 1966 after running away from a northern Ontario residential school has touched many people across the nation - it has haunted writer Joseph Boyden.

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News Article: "Gord Downie on Chanie Wenjack"

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News Article: "Gord Downie on Chanie Wenjack"

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Gord Downie announces the release of "The Secret Path" project to the media.

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TORONTO - Just weeks after fans bid what they feared could be a final goodbye to beloved Tragically Hip frontman Gord Downie, the terminally ill singer has revealed he will release a new solo album with an accompanying graphic novel and animated film inspired by the tragedy of Canada's residential school system.

"Secret Path' ' tells the story of a 12-year-old First Nations boy in Ontario named Chanie Wenjack, who died in 1966 after running away from the Cecilia Jeffrey Indian Residential School near Kenora, Ont.

The album and book will be released Oct. 18 and the film will air on CBC Oct. 23.

"I never knew Chanie, but I will always love him," Downie said Friday in a statement. "Chanie haunts me. His story is Canada's story. This is about Canada. We are not the country we thought we were."

In May, Downie made the shocking announcement that he has terminal brain cancer. Tickets for the band's "Man Machine" summer tour, which many feared could be their last, sold out almost immediately, leading to CBC picking up a national broadcast of the final tour stop in Kingston last month. The concert quickly became a national event as millions tuned in across the country.

During that final show, Downie called out to Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, who attended the concert, to help fix problems in northern Canada in his last scheduled live performance with his band.

"It's maybe worse than it's ever been, so it's not on the improve. (But) we're going to get it fixed and we got the guy to do it, to start, to help," Downie said onstage.

In Friday's statement, Downie said he learned the story of Chanie Wenjack, who was misnamed Charlie by his teachers, from a 1967 Maclean's magazine article.

Downie recounted in Friday's release how the boy died beside railroad tracks after escaping the school and trying to walk to his home more than 600 kilometres away.

"All of those governments, and all of those churches, for all of those years, misused themselves," Downie said. "They hurt many children. They broke up many families. They erased entire communities."

For more than 100 years, the federal government funded church-run schools across the country to eliminate parental involvement in the intellectual, cultural, and spiritual development of Aboriginal children, according to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada. The last school closed in 1996.

More than 150,000 First Nations, Metis, and Inuit children were placed in these schools often against their parents' wishes, which led to an apology from then-Prime Minister Stephen Harper in 2008.

Downie began "Secret Path" as 10 poems that were turned into the 10 songs for the album, which was recorded over two sessions near Kingston in late 2013.

Proceeds from the album and graphic novel will go to the National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation at the University of Manitoba, which is dedicated to preserving the history of the residential school system.
Related: Jeff Lemire: The Stephen King of comics

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Gord Downie on Chanie Wenjack: 'His story is Canada's story' - Macleans.ca

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TORONTO - Just weeks after fans bid what they feared could be a final goodbye to beloved Tragically Hip frontman Gord Downie, the terminally ill singer has revealed he will release a new solo album with an accompanying graphic novel and animated film inspired by the tragedy of Canada's residential school system.

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News Article and Video, "We were Trained our Entire Lives to Ignore"

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News Article and Video, "We were Trained our Entire Lives to Ignore"

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From the APTN (Aboriginal People's Television Network), an article that summarizes the national impact of Gord Downie's final concert.

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APTN National News
In an emotionally charged final concert in Kingston, Ont., Tragically Hip singer Gord Down paused the show to address the audience, the country, and specifically, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.

"We're in good hands, folks, real good hands. He cares about the people way up North, that we were trained our entire lives to ignore, trained our entire lives to hear not a word of what's going on up there," said Downie. "And what's going on up there ain't good. It's maybe worse than it's ever been, so it's not on the improve. (But) we're going to get it fixed and we got the guy to do it, to start, to help."

Downie, who was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer in Dec., 2015, has been on the road for the past month on the band's final tour.

Kingston's show was sold out in minutes and thousands turned out to watch the show in a square downtown.

Trudeau declared himself a big fan of the Tragically Hip, andDownie waxed poetic about Trudeau Saturday night during the band's final concert of the "Man Machine Poem" tour.

"He's going to be looking good for about at least 12 more years, I don't know if they let you go beyond that. But he'll do it," Downie told concertgoers between songs.

Trudeau could be seen in the audience nodding and mouthing "thank you."

Before the show started, Trudeau's official photographer posted a photo on Twitter of the prime minister embracing Downie.

Trudeau has put repairing the relationship at the top of his first mandate as prime minister.

Letters to each of his ministers that spell out their assignments, each mentioned Indigenous peoples.

"No relationship is more important to me and to Canada than the one with Indigenous Peoples," wrote Trudeau in the letters. "It is time for a renewed, nation-to-nation relationship with Indigenous Peoples, based on recognition of rights, respect, co-operation, and partnership."

In recent years, Downie has been tuning into issues around First Nations, specifically northern Ontario along the James Bay coast.

In band's 13th release, Now for Plan A, the track Goodnight Attawapiskat closes out the album.
"Attawapiskat, City by the Bay! A diamond dazzling. Oh, Attawapiskat, you're on your way."
The Hip followed the album release up with a tour that included a stop in the Fort Albany First Nation just south of Attawapiskat.

The Kingston show was the last in a 15-city concert tour.

- with files from The Canadian Press

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"We were trained our entire lives to ignore" Hip singer Downie addresses Trudeau on Indigenous issues during final concert - APTN News

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APTN National News In an emotionally charged final concert in Kingston, Ont., Tragically Hip singer Gord Down paused the show to address the audience, the country, and specifically, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. "We're in good hands, folks, real good hands.

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Having trouble accessing the article on the Globe and Mail website above?
No worries.... just open the PDF below.

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The intergenerational trauma of First Nations still runs deep

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Animated Film and album, "The Secret Path"

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Animated Film and album, "The Secret Path"

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From Gord Downie and Jeff Lemire, an animated film version of their graphic novel/album called "The Secret Path". This film, book and album are Gord Downie's "legacy" project... what he hopes to leave us for us Canadians to remember him by.