February 1999

April 30, 2023

I had left Burnaby, BC and made 3 deliveries across the American South East, I had emptied out in Little Rock, AR. My pick up was supposed to be my load home, but no, instead, I was now in Nashville, TN picking up the milk run. The milk run was where we had  6 or 8 deliveries stretching from Winnipeg, MB to Flin Flon, MB then a bunch more that ended in Inuvik, NT. I had done the milk run before, but had never been to the originating shipper before, which was where I was now. I had been away from home for more than 3 weeks already, and this run promised at least that again. I was tired, and feeling stretched out, and was in a shit mood, and I had heard that this customer was an experience in ignorance.

The place was located in one of those light industrial parks where there are a dozen or so businesses in the complex. And all have only a single dock, and there are no names or unit numbers on any of either the dock doors, or man doors. So after wandering around for a bit, I finally found the place, the main door was of course locked. Pounding on the door elicited no response, which resulted in my having to call them, which resulted in being told not to call, but to pound on the door! I could not help but wonder, what in fucks name kind of policy is that? With a whole lot of negative attitude I got loaded with my deliveries in the correct order, then was told to get my paperwork from the front office. And no, I could not walk through the warehouse, I had to walk around the outside of the building to the front office!

As I walked around the building, I decided that, yup, so far this place was indeed an experience in ignorance. But I had not seen anything yet! As I walk into the front door, the front portion of the office that I could see was deserted, and there seemed to be a dusty musty smell. There were a few desks scattered around with computers on them, all were dark. As I came through the front door, there was a desk near to it that looked as if a receptionist might have sat there. So standing there I called out in a friendly tone, “Hello, anyone home?” In the right rear of the office space there was what looked like a lunch room where I could just see a micro wave sat atop a collapsible table with a stray coffee cup sat atop it, from there emerged a woman.

Before I could utter a sound, she says to me, “Are you finished checking me out yet?” Shocked, and more than a little taken aback by this, and having lost any semblance of patience with their bullshit, for the first time I really looked at her. She was blond, with hair down to her mid back. She was shaped more like a square than anything else. And was truly nothing to look at. She was wearing white sneakers with white anklet socks, no pantyhose, a white skirt, black blouse, with a white suit jacket, suitable business attire but not at all sexy. Looking at her from 20 feet away I said in response to her, “Right, I’m going to go back outside, then come back in, then without you being a bitch, and thinking me to be some kind of sexist pig, we will then act like a couple of professionals where you will first allow me to introduce myself as a truck driver, of who requires that you, my customer, supply me with the necessary paperwork so that I can then leave your premises, and properly deliver your product to your customer”.In response to this, she looked as if I had slapped her. Her not very pretty blue eyes moistened, and her voice was a bit tremulous as she agreed to put my paperwork together and, allowed me to use their phone, to call our PR department, and report this little incident just in case she chose to make something of it. It was while talking to our HR person, Tracy, that I learned that, this was not the first time that this customer has raised such an issue. As I walked outside and around the building back to my truck, as in very few cases, never was I so glad to leave a customer. I did not bother debating with myself as to why we as a company would continue to deal with a client like that. The only thing I knew for sure was, the areas that we would be servicing for this customer was hard enough to deal with, and we really did not need the added bullshit.

As I headed north on I65 towards Chicago, and then west on I94  to I29 north to Emerson MB, the only weather was wind. My customers in both Winnipeg and Flin Flon were happy to see me, they needed their product. I had one stop in each Regina, SK and Saskatoon, SK, then a stop at our terminal in Edmonton, AB, where I picked up half a trailer load for Tuktoyaktuk, NT. By the time I got to Edmonton, I was exhausted, I had been on the road for more than a month and mentally I had had it. I asked our terminal manager Rick if I could switch out my load with someone else, he said no. I told him to go fuck himself, and went to bed in the yard and slept 14 hours round, then started my 3,370 Km journey north. He woke me up after I had been down for 8 hours, which he could do legally. I could not keep my eyes open so I went back to sleep, fuck him! Yes I got in shit for the additional 6 hour delay, but that did not matter to me, the driver must come first.

As I left Edmonton, I was pissed, I mean with a fleet of 150 trucks, there were only about 30 of us who would run north. You would think of those 30, there must have been someone who was available to switch loads with me but, apparently not. Normally I loved running north, the bone crushing cold, the continuous trickle of adrenaline. But most of all, the people. And the scenery,

 if I believed in God, I would say the territories are where god goes to vacation. As I headed up the Dempster Highway,

 I was pleasantly surprised to find that the weather cooperated entirely, except where expected, Hurricane Alley, white out conditions, and zero visibility shut me down for around 6 hours. It is an odd sensation to sit there in zero visibility, feeling the wind buffet your truck, with sustained winds making the truck’s levelling valve creak, with that little voice in the back of your head saying, “Please don’t let me be blown over, help is too far away, and it’s way too fucking cold out there”.

After I had delivered in Inuvik, and before rolling down onto the river ice for the 153 Km trip to Tuktoyaktuk, I had stopped to grab a coffee. While waiting to be served, I over heard an Inuit saying to a white man with quite a bit of frustration, “Inuit have 3 names, we believe in Causality”. As I listened to this, I was struck by the thought that, that Inuit could have been talking to me because I did not have clue one as to what he meant by that. And Causality, what the fuck was that? There are four parts to it as Aristotle defines it, the material cause, the formal cause, the efficient cause, and the final cause. Apparently these concepts are not just abstractly understood as they are in the white man’s world, but are actually lived by the Inuit. Unfortunately then, as now, there is not a lot of information available about this subject. We know that they name their children after loved ones, living or deceased believing that certain characteristics will be carried forward by the name. Which in many ways is no different than how we believe that, our life lessons are preconceived and taught/learned by both the previous/present generation.

We accept that the native populations have been on both the North and South American continents since as they put it, time immemorial. They have accounts of the Great Flood that are not dissimilar to that of the Bible, which by our reckoning took place circa 250,000 years ago. If they have accounts of it, that means they were here before it in order to witness it. The only folks who were capable of teaching the concepts of causality at that time, were of course the Annunaki. Though they referred to it as, nature’s way.

In February of 1999 I knew nothing of the Annunaki, nor anything of the Grail. At that time I was still regularly attending AA rooms, and was still discovering all what had been done to me to turn me into the disaster that I was. In my arrogance and cynicism, all the great philosophers were just a bunch of twits sitting around asking, why? If I had been able to look up through the pain and fury that burned from within, and actually have a real discussion with any of the natives that I had met over my time in the north, Hopefully I would have learned of the WAY, and like them, strive to return to source.

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