"Anywhere But Here"

What follows is an introduction to a collection of stories I have written about growing up in a small dusty prairie town. Everything is true and accurate to the best of my recollection. I started these stories a few years ago, afraid that I might soon forget them, as older folks sometimes do. So far so good. The school house in the previous post is where a lot of 'stuff' happened and I also have a photo of my Father's grocery store and a photo of the new house he built 'on the hill'. (To be posted later) As I read the intro, I realised there are a lot of things I would change now, not so much content, but phrasing and words. It will have to do for now because I am in the middle of watching a hockey game. :-)



“Anywhere But Here”

A collection of stories about growing up in Saskatchewan

Introduction

We slowly drove past it. There was no concern about holding up traffic. There was none. It was a hot July day and I was not sure if everyone was staying indoors because of the heat, or if the town was always this sleepy. If this was the usual pace, things sure had not changed much in the last 25 years. The town was much larger now, a rare thing for a prairie town, but it still had that laid back ambiance of yesteryear.
I strained to see how things had changed, or stayed the same. The modest bungalow had earned a reputation as being the house on the hill way back then, but try as I might, I could not see much of a rise in the long driveway as it stretched up to the front door. Strange how your perspective changes as you grow larger, and older. It was the same house all right. But it almost fooled me. There were neighbouring houses now, and the colour of the house had been changed, probably many times over the years. But, the basic shape and structure were identical to the image I had stored in my memory all these years.
I stopped at the base of the driveway. I studied the lie of the land. I looked at the houses across the street, up the street, and down the street. The trees. Had there been trees? If there had been, they could not have been very large the last time I was here. They were everywhere now, providing the wonderful shade that we longed for way back then. Everything was much greener, a testament to modern irrigation. I drank it in, absorbing every detail and letting the images wash through my mind so I would not lose track of this place if I came back in another 25 years. I was lost in thought and drifting through time, back to my childhood. This is where it began. It was a wonderful emotion that overcame me at that moment, but mixed with a sadness too.
It would have been nice to have my Mother and Father here with me now, so we could fill in the blanks of each other's recollections, but their health did not allow it. I would tell my Dad all it about when I got back home. My Mom, well, she would hear but not comprehend. She was in the clutches of Alzheimer's Disease. Looking at her now, it was hard to imagine that she was once such a strong and vibrant person and was capable of doing what she did. She, more than anyone, was the center of my universe, here in this dusty little prairie town called Lanigan.
Not all people growing up in the prairies were farmers. My Mother's family were, but my Father's family were business people. And so it was, in 1952, with a business agreement in hand, and title to an established grocery store in Lanigan, he packed his few belongings, and together with his wife and 2 small children, left their familiar surroundings, and struck out for the unknown. It took courage for him to overcome his fear of change. It was a part of his personality. He told me many years later that after he had committed himself to the deal, he stepped outside and threw up his lunch, the apprehension was so great.
He had very little money and no guarantee that he would even be able to earn a living, but needed a roof over his family's head, so he rented the only house in town that was vacant at that time. I never realized until years later just how small and derelict that house was, but for a child of 5, everything is an adventure and I remember running into the house that first day to explore every corner.
It was on a large corner lot, full of Quack Grass and Chick Weed, about three or four blocks from his new store and he would be able to walk to work and even come home for lunch. There was plenty of room to park the '48 green Plymouth that had brought us to this place. The house had a front door facing the larger of the two streets and a side door facing the other street, a door which opened to a narrow hall which doubled as a toilet room in the cold winter months. The hall was only a few feet long and there was the kitchen. Off to the left was what was supposed to be a living room, but we used it as a bedroom in the winter months. It was much too cold to sleep upstairs where there were two bedrooms. Off the living room was another room, so small there was only a bed and a small chest of drawers. This was where Mom and Dad slept. At the time, I was not aware of it, but my Mom was very upset. This was a big step down from her home as a child and even from the house she lived in during the first few years of their marriage. She would have to endure the hardships of this house for the next 3 years.
And there were hardships. My Dad's first priority when he started his business venture, was to dress up the old building on Main Street. It was very old and was leaning over. He took off the second story which was serving no purpose other than to house mice and spiders, and put on a new corrugated tin roof. New shelving inside, together with modern signage and newer refrigeration units made it by far the best of the three grocery stores in town. But this all came with a price tag. He was doing business during renovations and earning money, but it was all going back into the structure. At home, Mom was coping with raising her family in a house with no running water or indoor plumbing and winter was coming and it became quite evident that there was no insulation in the walls of the house. The oil heater in the middle of the kitchen was barely adequate to heat the lower floor and the fuel bills were mounting. She was pregnant, helping in the store, nursing two small kids who always had colds and flu, and trying to make friends in the neighbourhood so she could determine who would provide a safe environment for her kids as they made friends. Yes, it was even a concern back then, although she was a bit ahead of her time. One of her fortes was worrying.
I have vivid memories of our life before Lanigan, but this is where it started, my adventure called life. This is where I began to stray from home and explore my world, both physically and intellectually. It was in this setting, away from the familiar, away from extended family, in a new town, whose boundaries were my playground, whose residents would be my teachers, where I would discover who I was.