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Having grown up on an Indian reservation in New Brunswick, I really couldn't wait to get out into the world and see what was out there; see what was so special: so having just turned 18, I struck out on my own. I hitch hiked to Ontario and the place just blew me away. Back home, we were the "sticks" everyone talks about when they get way off the beaten track, so the city I landed in; in Ontario was, to put it mildly, a bit much to take in all at once. I didn't have a lot of cash for traveling, well, I didn't have a lot of anything, so I spent my first few nights on park benches or riding the bus and it was with a bit of relief that I learned about the Salvation Army.

The Salvation Army would put you up for the night and give you a meal if you were down on your luck. I didn't really consider myself down on my luck; it was all part of my great adventure; like Paul Simon said I was simply "seeking out the poorer quarters, where the ragged people go, searching for the places only they would know." I liked the Salvation Army. The guys were all pretty much ok, most were very friendly to me and took me under their wing, which surprised me, being native, I expected a lot more trouble than I got. They even gave me the nickname of Chiefy which I liked. Nobody bothered me and I was free during the day to explore the city and search for a job. In the evening I would make my way back to the Salvation Army for supper, a bit of TV or cribbage with some of the guys and then a nice hot shower and sleep.

I shared a four-bed-room with another guy Terry who was probably closer ...

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