COVID-19 claims life of Haida elder and storyteller, but his teachings live on

Woodrow Morrison Jr. spent the bulk of his life making friends, cracking jokesand telling stories even when he was a patient inside the COVID-19 unit of Vancouver General Hospital.

"At one point, one of the nurses was rushing around, just a little overwhelmed, and he stopped her and he said, 'Don't take it all so seriously. Relax,'" Morrison's daughter Erika Swanson recalled.

"Here he is in the ICU, really sick,and he's trying to comfort her. That's the kind of person he is."

If you ask friends and family, it's that kindness and sensibility that drew people to Morrison, an Indigenous Haida elder who was long referred to by both loved ones and acquaintances as Uncle Woody.

The 79-year-old spent much of his life travellingbefore settling in Vancouver for nearly three decades.

He was a beloved dancer, teacher, storyteller and support worker.

Morrison is one of nearly 1,400 British Columbians who have died of COVID-19.

While he had lived a long and fruitful life, his family says he wasn't ready for the curtain call.

"He was not his age. He didn't look like it.He was in great shape,"said Swanson. "He had 2021 all planned out."

Morrison was diagnosed with the virus on Jan. 1and fought it for 28 days.

WATCH |Why dancing helped heal Haida elder Woodrow Morrison:

Why dancing helped heal Haida elder Woodrow Morrison

4 years ago

Duration 1:23

Woodrow Morrison Jr. speaks to the impact dancing has on his wellbeing. His nephew, Mike Dangeli, danced with him.

Early life

He wasraised in Hydaburg,Alaska.His Haida name was Kaawan Sangaa, meaning "he brings a special day."

At three years old, he started his training as a storyteller and history keeper.

"They taught me the story of all humans and how to maximize the use of memory it was not something that just anybody was trained for," he recently wrote in a profile for the Vancouver Aboriginal Child and Family Services Society(VACFSS).

"My father, his sisters and brother were the last of my advisers, my guides, the last fluent K'iis Xaataay (Old Ones) northern Haida speakers."

Embracing his history as a child, he wanted to walk a path similar to his father and become a fisherman.

But those plans changed when he became a teenager.

From residential school student to elder support worker

At 13, Morrison was sent to Indian School a U.S.boarding school similar to Canada's residential school system.

"He was beaten for speaking his language, beaten for singing his songs," saidMike Dangeli, Morrison's nephew. Dangeli says Morrison also wasn't allowed to eat traditional foods.

"He would talk about how part of that destructive power of assimilating our people and destroying our culture wasfood based."

Morrisonjoined the U.S. Navy at 21, serving for four years and specializing in electronicstech and radar. He would later pursue universityand graduated with a law degree in 1982.

He spent the last 29 years of his life in Vancouver, working inthe film industry and then becoming a family support elder for theVancouver Aboriginal Child and Family Services Society (VACFSS).

Dangeli says reuniting and strengthening families was his way of giving backand repairing the damage done by systems of colonization like residential schools.

During sessions with families, he would pass on his cultural knowledge, including the Haida language.

"What he did was beyond the call of duty, beyond his job, but he didn't see it as a job he saw it as his role in the community," said Dangeli. "He took therole of Uncle Woodyto thatlevel and understanding that 'this is what an uncle does.'We're all better for have knownhim."

And even in his later years, he was an avid dancer withGit Hayetsk, a Vancouver-based Indigenous dancing group.

In a video recorded in his 70son dancing, he said, "It doesn't matter if I'm feeling bad, if I'm tired, if I'm feeling sick. When I leave, I feel uplifted.I feel like I've got some kind of new energy."

Legacy

Morrison leaves behind awife, two children, a large extended family and countless others he touched. His stories and teachingslive on through the people he shared them with.

His nephew Dangeliis carving a totem pole in his name that will be raisedat the VACFSS.

"Uncle was really good at getting art from me," said Dangeli, laughing. "It will become a way of closure ... we're going to hold the good memories and let go of a lot of that hurt."

Morrison also leaves behind tales that he's written, from short storiesto screenplays, that his family aimsto get published.

"He had a whole new chapter he wanted to embark on, and we're going to definitely,"said his daughter Erika Swanson."We're going make sure that we fulfilthose things he wanted to bring to fruition. He was just the best."