April 19th 1991

Today Nicholas Jeddore Died,I wonder how many relize the signifiance of this sadpassing. Nickleythe last of the real Aborigional Micmacs of Conne River. Niclkey spoke the Micmac language. Adirect link to the chain of unbroken Micmac language. From the begining of the Micmac Nation from thousands od years the language echoes back from time immemorial. To me it was something irreversible.As nikley his last breaths there appeared a chasm in time that could never be bridged. It was so final that I feelt engulfed by a great disolation and emptiness. I had dreaded it all along . when it happened it was shattering. which could only be felt by someonewho could fathom the dept and undetstand the meaning of this final passing.you can do what you like spend hundreds of millions of dollarsthis connection is broken forever. It tore at me as something I did not want to let go of. I was panic stricken as the relization of what the few of us Micmac people had lost.Nickley, The strong and solid link of the Micmac people weilded by culture. custom and language to our ancesters has left just a scattering of weak likns which will sopon sink into oblivion.
My memories of Nickley are many.as young boy of sixteen years og age.I trudged hundreds of miles on foot behind Nickley over Barred ground bogs and marshes. up and down rivers in canoe or raft. lying in a canvas tent wigwam or under the stars.gazing into the open fire watching the stars. listening to the night owl as it hooted all through the night. I can still hear Nickleys voice echoing in the hills across the steady as the sun is setting nickley sang Micmac hymns while chopping on a piece of wood. Makint moulds for the Otter we had shot earlier today.I can still hear his hearty laugh as he split our Otter right down the middle showing off to me how he could sculp an Otter.[sculp take the fat and bits of meat off the skin] saying I can race John Benoit any any day sculping an Otter, Then spending half the night whistling under his breath carefully trying to sew our Otter thgether.
In spite of the Nickley lost his temper he was good to me. and very patient with someone so awkward compared to himself. for he knew I too was fighting for survival. compared to things today. this was real. but this was the normal Indian life.My personal memories of Nickle are gond memories even when we had hard times. I will always remember the times we spent together in the country or home at conne.as I close my eys I picture us drifting down a steady on a raft in late spring evenings while muskrat hunting . or Lying on the barrens in fall waiting for geese to fly over.hear his happy laugh after a goose started to fall out of the air after he fired at it.It fell in a small bog hole with a broken wing. Nickley told me to fire at it . I did and flattened it out on ther water. Nickley reached out and pulled it ashore. We headed down the barren ground slope towards camp we had our supper with leftovers. TO CONTINUE