Moving to Vancouver a half-dozen years ago from Toronto I found a city where, to my shock, Indians weren’t just down-and-outs on downtown street corners but actually people with homes and families and jobs. In my neighbourhood there are two homeless Natives, brothers, Danse and Frank, who are there every day, dishevelled but not drunk, spending their time mostly making wood carvings. I was impressed that there could be quid pro quo, not just spare change, so I started to buy some of Dance’s carvings. Over the years we’ve gotten to where we chat when I see him, and I try to help out when he has problems, like the time the police took his tools claiming his Olfa knife was a weapon.