Tonight at eight o'clock EST we turned off all the lights in the house, even going so far as to unplug the TV, and grabbing our hand drums and tambourines off the wall, we headed over to next door neighbour Gary's house. There in the backyard, at the end of the garden, his fire pit was glowing and crackling with a roaring fire, while the steady sound of drums could be heard from his CD player.
Gary wore his First Nations jacket and a cowboy hat. He practically lived at the fire pit at the end of his garden, where he had built a 'man cave' out of old pieces of wood and plywood. Ever since his heart attack Gary says he can't sleep indoors. On all but the coldest nights he sleeps in the cabin, where a little space heater and the heat from his nightly fires keeps him toasty warm.
Inside his sleeping bag he says he doesn't feel the cold too much. His wife, inside the house in their warm modern home, has long since given up on trying to get him to come inside. He just likes it better out at the little cabin, where he can sit by the fire and watch the night sky and listen to his songs, he explains. And he can't breathe inside the house...ever since the heart attack he can't seem to breathe so well when he tries to sleep inside.
