THE NUT CRACKER'S TALE

 THE NUT CRACKER’S TALE 

                                                

[The challenge in cracking a nut is to extract it in its whole form, as we do when forging a friendship. If we fail, it is such a disappointment.]

I can remember at Christmas time a family tradition was the unique presence of a big bowl of unshelled mixed nuts on the living room coffee table, along side a nutcracker.

The family would gather mid-afternoon or after dinner, and take turns cracking nuts. We would watch each other carefully as we sometimes struggled to get the right crack or to get the sometimes tightly packed nut out of its shell. We would laugh when a piece of shell would go flying across the room or into someone’s hot chocolate drink. We would smile at our successes and frown when a robust looking nut was empty, dried up or rotten. Sometimes the nut just wasn’t what it was cracked up to be. Sometimes we conquered the challenges alone and other times we accepted help.  There is a lot to learn about life from a bowl of nuts.

When I look at my list of friends, acquaintances, former teachers, classmates, cohorts and employees, neighbours and family members, I see Macadamias and Pecans at the top and Filberts at the bottom. Everyone else fits nicely in between as Cashews, Brazils, Almonds and Walnuts. Each has its unique and welcome qualities.

Every nut and every person is different; some easy to like and others take a bit of an effort; some are hard to fully embrace and others you can only take in small doses or not at all. There are those you like or like for a while, and then you move on believing someone else will take those on. I lean towards the more obviously reliable and predictable, with the occasional dab into the unknown or unwanted. 

A diversity of choices and decisions are what spice up a beautiful bowl of anything.  Sometimes surprises can be good but then there are the times when we get totally blindsided by a filbert that has been disguising itself as a macadamia. Imposters! Those folly experiences can leave us with a very bad taste in our mouths for a while — I have had one or two of those in this past decade; but, eventually, I step back, shake my head, and jump forward to better options. Imposters aside, each authentic nut has its qualities.

A Brazil nut, for example, is the most stubborn of all — tough shell, tight fit, tough to crack and tough to unload; but, with perseverance, and a lot of patience and confidence, the effort to get there can be worth it. Some people like that kind of challenge and don’t give up. Others may give them a try but, ultimately, just walk away. 

A Walnut, with all of its quadrants, can be complicated to crack, bitter to eat and difficult to figure out, especially if you don’t approach the crack or the reassembly of the nut strategically. Somehow it tastes better when after the crack, the nut is intact. They are a lot of work!

The Almond is pretty basic and widely appreciated. It is easy to get along with (with a bit of practice), unless you press it too hard. Whole or half — it is always delightful , mellow and satisfies a hunger.

The Cashew, lightly salted, is always the most cherished and comforting. After all who doesn’t go for the cashew first! They don't disappoint.

The Macadamia and Pecan are consistently good and they are few and far between in our bowl of nuts (life)— hard to find, but worth holding on to. I savour and guard them very carefully.  

Although the actual Hazelnut, sometimes mixed up with its cousin the Filbert, looks nice and slick from the outside, its looks can be deceiving. Be very careful and ready — of all the nuts in the bowl, its inside is occasionally dry, rotten or empty. But, every once in a while you get a really good one! As in life, picking a hazelnut can be a bit of a gamble, but it can be a prize too.

The moral of this story is this: Every type of nut has its own character, shape, style and taste. Each attracts different audiences. Some I can either take or leave behind. 

Others I just have no desire to try or try anymore. Now that I am 65,  I look for quality in my life — things like reliability and trust in a mixture of options. 

As a child sitting around that coffee table, I was not allowed to be picky. I had to take what was there and no new nuts were added until the bowl was empty. Over time, I learned that not every nut stands the test, and being picky became okay. What you initially see or think is not always what you expected. The mystery could be a pleasant surprise. If not, spit it out and walk away. It is okay to take charge; it is okay to change the goal posts and it is okay to be flexible..

So at this year’s Christmas table, I am enjoying the Macadamias, Pecans, Cashews, Brazils, Walnuts and Almonds with a happy heart and mind; in the New Year, I will still take a chance on the occasional Hazelnut because they do remind me that nobody can be perfect all of the time — and that is okay too. 

I have become a pretty good nut cracker over the years. I have survived the disappointments and thoroughly enjoyed the successes, and am looking forward to another carefully navigated year ahead within a handful of delightful mixed nuts.

Happy Nut Cracking … and may your New Year nut bowl be filled with the finest variety of mixed nuts from this day forward. 

GOING THERE by KATIE COURIC

 Getting There

My family and friends know I am not an avid reader; in fact, of all the things on the list of things I can do, the last on the list is reading.

But, I am “getting there”! 

Every once in a while I spot a book that just might draw me in. I enjoy human interest pieces, biographies and autographies of people known to me directly or indirectly, and right now I am truly enjoying the recently published book entitled GOING THERE by Katie Couric.

She’s an American news journalist who started in the girl Friday role at a small town station and worked her way up to top ranking CNN, NBC and ABC roles. She grew up with encouragement and support from a loving family and great friends. She had an early vision of striving to succeed in media and to dispel the notion that women can only do the make-up, diet and fashion segments of a news program. She stood up to the status quo in the profession and in her personal life, and offered alternatives — winging it, screwing up now and then, but succeeding full speed ahead thereafter. 

This book opens up who she was and who she is, and how she got there. It is blunt. It is personal. It is successfully retaining my attention, and I highly recommend it for your seasonal gift list!  

MY WEST COAST DAY -- ALL ABOARD?

 MY WEST COAST DAY: ALL ABOARD

The other day I embarked on a day journey on the West Coast Express train from Maple Meadows to downtown Vancouver.  As I stood on the platform, early as usual, I noticed a new sign, a bilingual sign, alerting passengers to free suicide prevention counselling.  Seemed like an odd place for the advert, but I guess we are in a social adjustment era that is seeing a need to reach out in large open settings. 

I have not been on the train in a couple of years but, interestingly, I found myself standing in the exact same spot on the platform as always. I entered the train via the same doors, turned in the same direction to the same sitting area, and then stopped myself. “Time for a change”, my inner voice said as my body turned left to reach the top floor to the observatory level.

What a difference a change can make! 

It was too dark to take photos but I could see the bright red blueberry fields like I have never seen them before. I felt like I was on top of the sawdust piles when we passed the fibre mill and on top of the huge rock piles as we passed the gravel fields; and, I could see that I was at eye level with the engineer of the passing train along the second track. I also noticed the sprawl of high rises spread out over the skyline of Coquitlam, blocking the view of the mountains that graced this once sleepy, often forgotten community. I was seeing my world from a whole new perspective and I’ll bet this COVID era has done that to us.

As the train stopped at its final destination, Waterfront Station which is inside of the former Canadian Pacific Railway station, I remained seated and watched the working class scramble out quickly to get to work or to catch their bus or skytrain connection to wherever they still had to go. In those few moments, 

I reminisced about my days of olde when I was one of those who leapt off the train with an extra jump in my step, as I pranced off to a much loved political job on the top floor of our World Trade Centre in Canada Place.  The song “Oh What A Life” sprang to mind and I smiled. It was that life that led me to this life, making me older and wiser, and perhaps more patient and understanding than I ever thought I could be.  

I think part of that reflection stems from a new book I am currently reading entitled The Indian in the Cabinet written by Jody Wilson-Raybould.  She was elected as a rookie Member of Parliament and instantly put into the dual role of Minister of Justice and Attorney General of Canada.  In her words, and I believe her, it was both an honour and a privilege to serve in that capacity and she took her responsibilities very seriously without regret.   She had never been involved in a political party and never served in an elected role except for elected roles within Indigenous organizations. In her words, the one is not at all like the other.

The long and short of it is, the inner workings of a political job is mind boggling and shocking, and for some, it is very difficult to play along. I can attest to that from my own direct experience in political life. Between the reality of the power within the inner circle of a leader’s office and what a dedicated and honourable elected person or staff person is prepared to offer, you are simply comparing apples to oranges. The name of the game, and yes it is a game, is TOW THE LINE.  In more or less Jody’s words: it is a unique culture inside the bowels of political life, divorced from daily realities and the lives of regular folk.  It truly is a completely different world and something that can only be understood by the people within that web. The notion of democracy was not intended to evolve like this — of that I am sure!

Anyway, the book has received a lot of accolades and recently was nominated for a prestigious award. I have one more chapter to read and can’t wait for the train ride home.

Lunch today was with a great guy named Clark; we went to the same high schools, worked on the same political campaigns and worked side by side on the political side of governance for at least two decades.  He has become a Queen’s Counsel lawyer, with significant international work experience, and he is a proud father of two academically strong university students.  We always have time for each other and treat each other to meals when we go out. Our friend Christy sometimes joins us but not this time — we did send her a photo though and we know she will smile in absentia. 

The train service to and from my home base is limited which means we have 4 trains out in the morning and 4 trains back in the late afternoon.  I had an hour to kill before getting the first train home so I went to the station intending to sit on a bench to finish the book.  All the benches had been removed!  I stood there still, and looked around at the beauty of that majestic historic building and noticed some information plaques mounted on some of the pillars. I went outside and walked around the building, and recalled my own train rides from that station to Trois Rivières, Quebec and to Ottawa — four return trips in total. Oh what a ride that was!  

Suddenly I could easily remember the sounds of trains, train whistles, train brakes; the waves from the engineer, conductor, porters and passengers, and the CP Telecommunications office where my dad worked when we lived in North Bend.  I can also remember missing all of that when we moved to the big city on the West Coast. It was like we left a lot behind and we would never get it back;  but, seeing much of that preserved in this historic CPR station, and having seen the amazing preservation of railway history when visiting North Bend last summer, has been both nurturing and appreciated. 

At this point I heard the doors to the outgoing train open and I scurried to get a good seat. The day has been misty and foggy, making me feel drowsy.  When I worked the Vancouver beat, my biggest fear was falling asleep on board and not waking up in time to disembark. The latter never happened; but, the former always did. This time I fell asleep before departing and woke up two stops early.

It has been a delightfully diverse day. I am happy to be home and will now get down to the final pages of a truly open and honest book written by a truly open and honest, proud and principled Indigenous Canadian. Getting it into the curriculum of high school Social Studies and university level Political Science would definitely be a great next step — not likely the former but more likely the latter. 

All Aboard!

 

JOURNALING THE JOURNEY ARUBA 2021

 JOURNALING THE JOURNEY

Aruba in Autumn 2021

Part 1:

FEELING HOME

There are many things about Aruba that keeps me coming back – over and above the warm climate, warm sea water and warm people.

For me it’s also the clean air, clean white sandy beach and clear blue sea. Add to that the ease of relaxing, smiling and just lying back on the plush blue beach towel lain upon a firmly strapped lounge chair, under a grass palapa, with my eyes open or closed, while I reflect back, think ahead and just enjoy the moment.

It all comes to me very easily but especially when I see the Canadian flag waving in the wind along side the Dutch and Aruban ones, all swaying in sync with the gentle breeze.

I feel in sync with this whole place.  Thank you Aruba.

Part 2:

BEING HOME

Recently, my sister and I embarked on a long awaited trip to the Caribbean island called Aruba. I journaled the journey and will post bits of it here over the next few days.  

Aruba is a small Dutch island in the southern Caribbean Sea just north of Venezuela. It is about 16 km long and 8 km wide; the population is around 100,000.  Because of its closeness to the equator, the temperature is always warm or hot; the gentle breeze from the Sea makes the hot temps tolerable.

When my dad was in the Royal Dutch Navy, one of his first overseas trips was Aruba. He fell in love with it instantly and vowed to one day return.  Return he did, after marrying my mom, raising four children and saving enough money to travel back many, many years later.  They went back together a few times and decided without a doubt it was THE place to go regularly, so they bought timeshares at La CABANA BEACH RESORT. 

Eventually other family members joined in and also bought timeshares for the same reason.  It is just one of those places that instantly assures you that although other locations we have been to or where others have been are nice, absolutely nothing we have ever seen or heard about comes close to what we experience time and time again in Aruba. 

It’s a Dutch island, well supported by the motherland (The Netherlands) and we come from Dutch heritage; the people speak Aruban, Dutch and English in various degrees; it has a lot of sunshine and we love sunshine; the sea water is crystal clear and comforting all of the time and we love it that way;  the soft, white sandy beach is several kilometres long; it is outside of the hurricane zone; it is relatively easy to get to and relatively cheap travel if you follow the sales; it is NOT commercialized (that’s another plus) but it has everything we need and more.  

So now as I reacclimatize and sit here with my dutch cheese on toasted Aruban pumpkin seed bread and café mocha, I will review my Journey Journal and photos for future anecdotes to share with you. 

Part 3: 

ARRIVING WITH CONFIDENCE

I woke up the morning of September 21, 2021 with an additional reason to add a jump to my step and do a happy dance on the white sandy beach on the Island of Aruba. I had just heard that my long ruling favoured political party secured another election victory — a minority government is after all a victory of sorts even though the participants would have preferred a different outcome!

I was delightfully surprised that a few of my on-side and off-side political friends and acquaintances and the non-political ones, who knew I was away for the first such election ever in my life, kept in touch with me in real time to be sure I was up to the minute up to date as the Canadian networks unravelled the regional results bit by bit. Although I, too, was watching the outcomes in real time on my iPad, having my astute contacts keep in touch made me feel like we were all in the room together, mindful and respectful.  It was a new way of celebrating democracy, friendship and humanity.

As we often hear after the election results are known: “the people have spoken” — from here the elected Members of Parliament move forward with what we’ve got, and hope for balanced decision making for the greater good of all. 

With that event completed, I shut the door on all of the complaining and criticism that always follows elections results. To me ‘vacation’ means to vacate the dominate lifestyle and switch to a whole different ambiance, routine and opportunity to enjoy a wonderful temporary distraction. This time I am travelling with my sister Cathy.

The moment the United Airlines flight landed at Oranjestad airport, we forgot about the length of the trip, breezed through Customs and jumped into the SUV taxi that was waiting for us at the taxi station. We followed the protocols for checking in to our lodgings at La Cabana Beach Resort and Casino, unpacked, dressed for the 32 degrees Celsius temperature and reacquainted ourselves with the grounds and people we have gotten to know over the years. It truly is our home away from home, and we love it. This shoe definitely fits and we wear it so very well.  

Part 4:

ESTABLISHING OUR ROUTINE

ARUBA is a place I have visited 30 times over the past 22 years. Family members have  been coming for about ten of those years. As such, we have developed a routine that meets our needs just fine. We do add something new now and then to see if it works, but by and large we are happily set in our ways.

On this trip, my guest was my sister.  She got up extra early every morning to secure a front row palapa (grass tiki hut) on the beach so we have no obstructions in front of us. We see nothing ahead of us except the clean soft white sand and the various shades of blue that define the Caribbean Sea. I show up with my cappuccino and the local newspaper in hand about a half hour later. By then Cathy has already embarked on her very long walk down the beach and does not return for at least 30 minutes. When I see her come by, we wave and she continues on to the north end of the beach before entering the warm, soft water to cool down and relax.  

Eventually I join her and we talk to each other, or not; we talk to strangers, or not; we talk to ourselves, or not — for sometimes as much as an hour.  On average, we are in the water about four times a day, twice in the morning and twice in the afternoon. By midday, we individually break away from the beach and return to our villa to enjoy the air conditioning and make lunch. It is a nice break from the heat.

While under our palapa, we stare at people walking along the beach or wading in the water; we smile when we see people do selfies and amateur photo shoots; we marvel at the many variations of bathing suits worn by men and women; Cathy reads and I write.  We both enjoy watching the pelicans and other sea diving birds navigate and prepare for their unsuspecting catch over and over again until they’ve had their fill. We watch the jet skiers, para-sailers, water boarders and the occasional wind surfer enjoy the pleasure of being free out on the wide open Sea. We also enjoy engaging in conversation with the people in the palapas beside and behind us — all more than two metres apart. We have met a diversity of people from all over the world and each has taught us something interesting and something new about life, lives and living.

Before we know it, the afternoon ends, we pack up to enjoy some pool time and socializing on the pool deck, before returning to our unit to freshen up and prepare for a much anticipated dinner. The evening usually ends with a good evening walk, sometimes a special dessert or time in the casino to see how long it takes to lose ten dollars (or not!)  Or, we play a couple of games of cards at the kitchen  table before watching a bit of television and then very easily falling asleep.

Oh what a life it is!

Part 5:

SATISFYING THE PALATE

One of the great things about vacating regular life to enjoy a vacation, is the special attention we get to pay to our palates. This is no time to stick with the at-home norms; it is a time to branch out, be bold, experiment. Food is also a popular topic of conversation with strangers and acquaintances on the beach or on the pool deck.

On the day of our arrival, cooking or going out is the last thing on our mind. The trip is long and long trips can be tiring especially when you start off with the red eye out of Vancouver. But, you gotta eat!

My sister was anxiously awaiting a first opportunity to walk across the street to our favourite grocery, bakery, deli, café and liquor store called Super Foods.  “Super” is an understatement as that place surpasses ‘super’!  Once there, she took a b-line to the café where we can buy take out Dutch beef croquettes — definitely our life long most favourite light and delicious treat.  They are deep fried log shaped ragout that have been dipped in egg, then bread crumbs, egg again and bread crumbs again.  The ragout is a delicious mix of chunks or strands of beef, beef stock, spices and these include purée potatoes. We enjoy eating them with or without bread; with or without salad.  It is the perfect ‘just what we need’ first night meal.

Since we both enjoy cooking, we take turns creating interesting dinner meals usually making more than we need so there will be leftovers.  For breakfasts and lunches, we tend to do our own thing. If I do a take-out for breakfast, for example, I usually don’t need a lunch because the offerings are very generous. Sometimes a take-out lunch is so generous I can easily eat the leftovers for a subsequent dinner.

I enjoy going out for dinner at least 3 times a week and always select something I don’t normally select in my regular life.  The beef in Aruba is usually from Argentina and it is so naturally tender, it almost melts in your mouth. The chefs know how to spice it up just right and how to cook it, and I have never been disappointed. 

At the Bohemian restaurant, the meal started with a charcuterie plate of bread, sliced deli meats, pickled onions and a good pile of Dutch cooked potatoes topped with melted Swiss cheese; the filet mignon meal includes various roasted veggies and creamy scalloped potatoes au gratin. Dessert? No thank you … too full!

Las Ramblas, a five star restaurant located at our Resort, is the place I order Surf N Turf which is a nice piece of bbq beef tenderloin and skewers with bacon wrapped scallops plus prawns, with roasted potatoes and other veggies. Cathy had the catch of the day which was a delicious Red Snapper with all the fixings. Our meal was preceded by a delightful glass of red wine sangria. Dessert? No thank you … too full!!

On another evening I also start my dinner meal at the Islander Grill with that sangria before enjoying a delicious and very garlicky Caesar salad topped with grilled prawns.  It is a light meal, but it definitely pleased my palate very nicely. Dessert? Yes, over at the bakery in Super Foods, I selected a chocolate mousse pastry and Cathy got her favourite white chocolate doom on an almond flavoured cookie crumble crust. Both very Dutch.

Aruba does have hundreds of restaurants spread out all over the Island; but, during this COVID era, tourists are being more careful and more aware. I prefer to eat-in most of the time, and that includes take-outs from the local restaurants close by.  Some people eat out all of the time or do take-out all of the time or eat in all of the time, but that is not something that I enjoy. For me, I choose a nice mix of different choices — different from the home front, giving me a vacation away from the norm, leaving me stress-free and my tummy happy.

Part 6:

AS THE SUN SETS

Well, as they say, all good things have to come to an end eventually and a vacation falls under that umbrella too. 

Aruba is my haven of peace and joy, relaxation and spiritual solace, and where I get the best tans. We had a fabulous 16 days of time in a magical place, our paradise on earth — Aruba ta duchi! 

But, as with every day here and around the world, the sun rises in the morning and gets our day started, and sets in the evening, to gives us time to appreciate what was, what is and what is about to come.

Life is good and we are happily blessed ….

VisitAruba.com 

WHEN THE SHOES FIT ... you know it!

 WHEN THE SHOES FIT …

TODAY has been a very mild, cloudy day — perfect for a cycle, some outdoor visiting and delightful conversation.

I set out on my bicycle to visit Klamer and Cathy Eggens, a lovely Dutch couple who live in my neighbouring community of Pitt Meadows. Their daughter Monika is the co-captain of the Canada Water Polo team and has recently returned from the Olympic Games in Tokyo. She had brought me some momentos from her trip and Klamer wanted to share some of his very successful garden crops with me. The visit turned into much more.

Cathy met me in the front yard and together we went to the back to find Klamer tending to the beautiful garden. They gave me the grand tour, with ziplock bags in hand, and I was happily gifted with some fabulous beets, 2 types of potatoes, kale and garlic. My keen eyes spotted a ripe strawberry and at that moment I was invited to take it! I did and it was so delicious — nothing like a berry straight off the vine. 

Later Klamer gave me a jar of blackberry purée and prepared garlic. He is a baker by profession but he is also a fabulous cook, so he gave me some great tips on how to cook up some of my medley. I can hardly wait to enjoy some of those very fresh veggies.

While on the back porch, we enjoyed refreshments and speculaas cookies, and engaged in a lot of interesting conversation about the Olympics, the local aquafit program, interesting spots in the community, a must-go-to shoe store, a well-hidden kitchen store, and retail spots to find familiar Dutch delicacies. My “To Do” list has increased exponentially for future cycling treks for sure.

Just before I left, Cathy asked me if I ever had a speculaas sandwich.  I hadn’t so she told me how it is made and I will look forward to trying it out soon — two slices of bread, buttered. Add a speculaas cookie in between; let it sit for a while, and then eat the most scrumptious sandwich ever!   Leave it to the Dutch to come up with something like that!

Cathy also mentioned the local shoe store. Patten and Buckle Fine Footwear is a place I have seen often, but never entered.  Since we are now at this end of the Covid era, I decided to step into that shoe store to have a look en route home.  I am sure glad I did. They have a very impressive selection and all footwear items with an orange sticker are an additional 30% off.  I bought two beautiful pairs of sandals — a Josef  Seibel  and a Clarks.  It was a great way to round out a wonderful day!

I have entitled this story “When the Shoes Fit …”: Whether the shoes are just shoes or metaphors of “shoes” like comfortable friends, enlightening conversation or a bounty of fresh veggies, if it feels right then value the connection, savour the moments, and celebrate the many pleasures that come from “shoes” that do actually fit: real friendships, respectful conversation, insight, recommendations, and no bothersome blisters! If shoes or “shoes” give you “blisters”, throw them out! 

Thank you Klamer and Cathy for your friendship and for this very enlightening and bountiful visit.

Antoinetta DeWit

August 2021

CONNECTING THE DOTS

 Connecting the Dots

Last week I embarked on a vacation with my older brother to visit our sister in the Cariboo region of the province of British Columbia. A normal direct drive would take 5 hours, but our adventures stretched the time by nearly half more.

The highway drive out of the coastal region was slow then fast then slow again — normal, it seems, nowadays as we travel from urban to rural regions of the province. 

We gassed up in Hope and then proceeded through the seven tunnels of the Fraser Canyon Highway, also known as the Trans Canada. The Yale, Saddle Rock, Alexandra, Sailor Bar, Ferrabee, Hell’s Gate and China Bar  tunnels were cut through solid rock bluffs of the coastal mountain range along side the mighty Fraser River.  We know them like the back of our hands since we travelled that route regularly over the ten years we lived in the hamlet of North Bend, located across the Fraser from the village of Boston Bar. This part of the trip is always a journey back in time — our time, and we both just love it.

As we continued on past Boston Bar and towards Lytton, we braced ourselves for what was to come.  Lytton had been 90 percent eliminated by a recent fast moving fire, the cause of which is yet to be determined.  The long and short of it is that the town was obliterated, completely wiped out and the nearly 1200 residents have been disbursed to welcoming communities near and far away, remaining anxious and worried, sad and forlorn.

The feeling in the air can be described in one word: sad. We drove past acres and acres of ash, blackened trees and power poles, humps of rubble, charred vegetation,  burned out cars, vans, and trucks, as well as lost businesses. It was like driving through a moonscape and that was only along the highway stretch.  Out of respect for the people of Lytton and especially the Indigenous people who are the original settlers, and because of the potential danger of poisonous gasses and chemicals, non-essential people are blocked from leaving the highway to enter the village and become looky-loos or photographers for personal gain. One encouraging sign as we continued to drive slowly by, was seeing hydro crews working hard and carefully to replace and rewire power poles — a first sign of a collective effort to restore hope in getting the village up to living standards once again.

As we got closer to our intended destination of Sulphurous Lake which is located about 40 minutes south east of the town of 100 Mile House, the smoke in the air around us, in front of us, above us and behind us, was impossible to ignore.  Much of the area was under evacuation alert and that was evident by the number of roadblocks on off-shoot roads on the west side of the highway. We persevered and hoped for minimal poor air quality while we enjoyed the family week in a cottage on a fresh water lake — even if it might have had to be a mostly indoor vacation. 

As it turned out, it was mostly an outdoor vacation as the skies cleared and we managed to kayak, boat, float on tubes, walk and sit outdoors. We also embarked on a trip to the local dump to dispose of garbage, but also to contribute to the ‘Share Shack’ where people can either contribute or take items or both.  It is a great place to find unusual treasures and just fun to look around.  From there we went to a knoll where there is the area’s only grocery store, the Country Peddler, a lumber yard, gas station, hairdresser and ice cream nook.  Across the way is the library where people can access free WiFi. I spent most of my time there during our morning outing since I had been without WiFi for a few days.  Felt great to sit there on the stairway, in the clean air, to read my messages and to respond. It felt like Christmas!  The Espresso Fudge ice cream cone was an added bonus.

One of the plans for our time together was to use long held on to recipes, the ones we cut out of newspapers and magazines, with the intention of one day trying them out.  They pile up over the years, and most often we never get around to actually trying and assessing them.  One such meal was Gnocchi in Red Pepper Sauce, served with corn and thing slices of pork.  Another was wild sockeye salmon, with Japanese sticky rice and green bean casserole with French’s crispy fried onions.  Both were keepers and much appreciated.  Two recipes covered, now about a thousand to go!

Our indoor time was spent playing a neat new game called Sequence, watching a bit of the Olympics and the News, talking, laughing, napping, baking and watching the loons and herons on the lake or the deer in the front yard eating the Saskatoon berries.

The day of departure was cool and cloudy, with a bit of drizzle — perfect conditions for an easy drive home.  We had preplanned two intended stops — the town of Ashcroft for gas and specialty coffees, and the hamlet of North Bend which was referenced at the beginning of this story.

Ashcroft is a small town six kilometres off the main highway.  Its origins are the same as most towns along this corridor known as the Gold Rush Trail. It has a lot of interesting history and the people we met were proud and friendly.  I don’t generally name drop but while in the grocery store I asked the cashier if she knew a Jackie Tegart. The immediate answer was “yes, she lives down the street from me and her office is down the road from the store.” While she spoke, I detected a Dutch accent and being Dutch, we continued to engage.  I love that part of small towns.

My brother had been to Ashcroft before and remembered a blacksmith-type shop where specialized screwdrivers are made at the back of a storefront located in a building that once housed Chinese merchants. The block was known as Chinatown. He had planned to buy one of the screwdrivers and regretted not having done so.  This was his chance!  When he brought the screwdriver back to the car and showed me why it was special, I said “I need something like that so I can get rid of the odds and sods of screwdrivers in my toolkit. I gave him the $$ and asked him to go back to buy me one.  I could have gone myself but he really enjoyed his talk with the lady store owner and her husband, and going again was no sweat off his back.  He took a while so I eventually did get out of the car and walked across the road to see what the delay was all about.  I ended up talking with the woman and let her share her pride of her craft with me.  I love that part of small towns too. The screwdriver is engraved with the words: Made in Ashcroft.

Tasks completed, we got back on the road to our next stop: North Bend, our former home town where we lived our childhood years from 1958-1968. Our particular interest was to see the Museum which occupies two of our former classrooms in the elementary school.

I drove into the village slowly as we took in the lay of the land, the appearance of streets, houses and gardens, and then parked in front of the School.  We walked down the hill we called Carlson Hill, named after the grocer of the grocery store that is no more, and headed to the CPR tracks to remember how it all once looked.  None of the buildings remain, the lovely green grass is no longer, the weeds have invaded and all we have left is our memories. Those memories remain very clear.

We walked back to the car just at the time that the museum curator arrived to let us in.  We introduced ourselves and let him know why we were there. He greeted us happily and was pleased that we had come to see the work that he and the many volunteers had done to preserve the community’s history.

As we entered, I took a deep breath, looked up the long stairwell, and tried to prepare for what was to come — my grades 1-6 classroom years flashing through my mind. The rooms were still there, the layout was the same, but the contents were unexpectedly mind-boggling. My grades 1-3 classroom is now a very well stocked history haven with artifacts, ledgers, binders and other materials reflecting the history of both North Bend and Boston Bar.  It was a gold mine of incredible stories and flashbacks for both my brother and me. 

The former grade 5-6 classroom contains the overflow of the other room with many more framed photos and local memorabilia, as well as a lounge room filled with a large collection of cds, dvds, vcr tapes, and all the electronics needed to enjoy entertainment while seated on comfortable chairs and sofas.  It is like a community gathering place. Another area, where I sat through Grade 4, is reserved for only Christmas decorations and stock for the Thrift Store that occupies the downstairs area where we once enjoyed indoor recess or lunch times on cold or miserable school days. 

 

As we were about to leave the 2nd floor, I asked my brother if he wanted to walk down the long hallway that led to the Principal’s office where we both endured capital punishment for being disobedient.  His memory of that experience was not as profound as mine; but, I seem to have added the same skip to my step going down that hallway as I did not once but twice when I was marched down there to receive the dreaded deed. 

We stood in the now empty room and Hans pointed out where the desk used to be and I imagined myself standing with the principal on the other side of the desk, hearing him suggest I not keep my hand so stiff as he smacked the leather strap across my palm a few times.  I did not comply with his suggestion, and endured the added sting without a whimper or a cry.  My biggest fear was he was going to let my parents know what had occurred.  Turns out, my parents were never informed.  This, of course, triggers my thought of what occurred in Residential Schools — the parents were never informed!

That strap, by the way, is hanging on the wall beside the teacher’s desk — it appears as a donation from my favourite Grade 1-3 teacher Ms Unruh who became Mrs. Wilson. She now goes by the last name of Henshall and lives in Campbell River. Interestingly the strap is referred to as a tune-up tool! 

Upon leaving the school, Hans and I were happy to see that every part of it is being used to bring community together, with stories and material things that keep the town’s history intact, plus a Gathering Place and a Thrift Shop, giving the less than 200 inhabitants a place to gather, relax, shop and socialize. 

The school remains a focal point of this hamlet we once called home and it sure felt like a good dose of “flashback home” being there for those 90 minutes. 

So, all in all, this summer vacation was all about connections — with my brother, my sister, my brother in law, rural life and my formative years. Looking back and sharing memories always makes me smile and helps me better understand how I got to where I am, feeling proud and satisfied, informed and gifted, with plethora experiences building character and determination to live a progressive life, but always remembering how all the dots are connected.

Antoinetta DeWit

August 2021