When I’m a Moshom – written by David A. Robertson, illustrated by Corrie Hill
Tundra Books, 2026

There are many wonderful books about the relationship between grandparents and their grandchildren, but When I’m a Moshom is one of the best I have read.  I chose the title of this post from the Hebrew expression, L’Dor Vador. David Robertson and Corrie Hill’s book is rooted in Indigenous culture, specifically from the Swampy Cree, but also applicable to other communities.  But when I read it, I couldn’t help thinking of the Jewish concept of the respect and love that unites generations and ensures continuity. One of Robertson’s many gifts as a writer (see my reviews here and here and here and here) is his ability to distill ideas laden with the deepest significance into clear and resonant language that children will understand.

Grandparents, ideally, are an emotional haven for their grandchildren. (see, for example, here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here). Robertson enumerates why this is so, as he embodies the spirit of his own grandfather, in the narrative voice of a child, but also an adult, invoking the past and planning for the future. In that future, imagined, role, he will attend all their activities. In Hill’s picture, we see children participating in an Indigenous dance performance, small delicate figures in earth and jewel color tones composed against a grassy background. The future Moshom also refers to the broadly popular swimming and gymnastics, noting that he will cheer loudly, but here we see a grandfather, with his long white braid, quietly taking notes as the children dance. He could be scoring their performance according to standards, or noting individual instance of skill and beauty.

Watching a hockey match played by older children, a younger girl is raised on a stepstool in order to view the game, while an even younger child sits to the side, entranced by the sporting equipment. Moshom is available to everyone simultaneously.  Throughout the book, the balance between universal and particular cultural experiences is understated and implicit.  Moshom sits in a comfortable-looking armchair while three of his grandchildren stand nearby. “I’ll smudge with them in the morning, And we will cleanse our bodies, our minds and our spirits.”  (Readers may want to learn more about the custom of smudging, a specific set of practices involving spiritual support.) The narrator characterizes the “sacred teachings” that Moshom will pass on to his grandchildren, he uses unambiguous language about his purpose: “To help them seek mino-pimātisiwin, the good life. Because Moshom lived that way, so I think I can, too.”  It’s hard to think of a better phrase to encapsulate the preservation of wisdom. (An author’s note, and a glossary help to guide the reader.)

Respect for the environment and the human body is part of a Moshom’s teaching. In Hill’s picture, a bird’s-eye view, a fishing boat moves slowly through the waters, followed by a flight of birds, while an adjacent campsite points to the purpose of the outing. A later scene returns to the campsite, portraying the family holding hands, with the youngest member held in Moshom’s arms.  While the food is cooking, everyone looks out across the water to the hills and trees.  The frenetic activity of multitasking is negated, replaced by focus on what is most important.

The book provokes strong emotions, from grandparents and grandchildren.  Moshom teaches the Cree language by speaking to his grandchildren. “I will speak Swampy Cree to my grandchildren, Just like Moshom did.  I’ll tell my grandchildren, “api,” and they will sit down.  I’ll tell my grandchildren “nīpawē, and they will stand up.” Preserving language is central to all cultural transference.  Again, the specific words will resonate with speakers of Swampy Cree, but also with those who teach and learn Spanish, Chinese, Hebrew, Ukrainian, or any other language.  As I read this page, I heard an echo of the English translation of the Hebrew Shema, which refers to teaching the words to one’s children, and of repeating the words “when you lie down and when you get up.” Of course, I don’t mean to imply that David Robertson was referring to this prayer, but rather that he has conveyed the essence of intergenerational love and commitment, inclusively of any tradition.