When I opened the door to the Hedley Seniors’ Centre, I was astonished to see 10 ladies in purple garb and wearing fancy red hats. Seated at a long table, some holding coffee cups, they were engaged in animated discussion, obviously having fun. For a moment they seemed as surprised at my unanticipated appearance as I was to see them. Then, greatly amused by my baffled expression and apparently pleased by their impact, they burst into spontaneous ripples of happy laughter.

Greatly puzzled and intrigued by this unexpected apparition, I hurriedly closed the door. Walking away I pondered the meaning of this encounter. I knew each of the ladies. Surely they were not participants in a secret Hedley cult.

I subsequently learned it wasn’t the dark underbelly of Hedley society I had innocently stumbled upon. “We’re members of the Red Hat Society,” Margaret Skaar informed me several days later. “Our purpose is to give women an opportunity to have fun after reaching age 50. We meet once a month, sometimes to have breakfast together, or a potluck dinner. We also go shopping. One year we joined with several other Red Hat groups for a visit to Barkerville.”

Well, there’s a novel concept I thought. It was bringing a measure of frivolity into the lives of women, most of whom are ardent in their commitment and service to the Hedley community. Possibly without intending it, the Red Hat Society seems a very positive approach to feminism.

I did some delving and learned the society had been inspired by the poem Warning, penned by Jenny Joseph at age 29. She wrote, “When I’m an old woman, I shall wear purple, with a red hat that does not go and doesn’t suit me… . I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves and satin sandals… . I will go out in my slippers in the rain, pick flowers in other people’s gardens, and learn to spit.”

Sue Ellen Cooper of Fullerton California came upon the poem and when a close friend turned 55, gave her a red hat. She suggested her friend keep it as a reminder to “grow old playfully and on her own terms.”

Inspired by the poem and her own inauspicious act of encouragement, in1998 Cooper founded the Red Hat Society, which now has some 50,000 members worldwide. Princeton and Keremeos each have a group, although in the latter case, they are now part of the Canadian Crown Jewel’s version,

Cooper described the society as “a place where there is freedom from stereotypes and where there is fulfillment of goals and dreams. A place that offers friendship and fun after 50.” It’s motto is “Red Hatters Matter.”

Almost without exception, the Hedley Red Hatters have come out of demanding careers and now give to their community by volunteering Margaret Skaar, age 78, was a bank manager. She now serves as a Hedley Museum board member and treasurer. At the Seniors’ Centre monthly pancake breakfast, this spunky lady is at the grill cooking eggs. Beryl Wallace, formerly a teacher, has served a number of terms as chair person of the Seniors’ Centre. Ena Chiasson, age 87, is senior in years to the others. A nurse in the past, she is involved in pretty much every organization in town.

Although most are in the seventh decade or more, they refuse to accept that their active years are in the past. They are not willing to settle for a static existence in a recliner in front of the television. Red Hat ladies understand that in spite of age and health issues, it’s quite possible to join with others to relax, enjoy people, have fun, and celebrate life.

When I asked if they accept new members, Margaret said, “Definitely, and ladies under 50 are welcome. Until they are 50, they wear a pink hat.”

In a small community like Hedley, we often have to provide our own entertainment and make our own fun. The Red Hat ladies are doing this very successfully, with style and pizzazz. If I ever come upon one of their gatherings again, I may be tempted to request permission to join in their fun. Failing that, I might spend my pension on brandy, buy satin slippers, and pick flowers in my neighbour’s garden.

When Dennis and Brenda Matson began attending the little church in Hedley, there was no indication he would soon become the pastor. In dress, speech and demeanor, they were entirely unpretentious. All I knew about them was that they owned a large dump truck and an excavator. People in town were calling on Dennis to do work and it became evident he had the experience, skill, and practical mind to tackle a variety of challenges.

His acquaintance with work and equipment began at a young age.“We lived on a quarter section,” he told Linda and me recently. “We called it a stump farm because it had more stumps than cows. If a piece of equipment had an engine, my dad expected us boys to run it. When I was about 10 I was assigned to take a dozer and trailer loaded with hay to feed cattle in the field.”

Dennis was born in Washington State. “When my parents got married they decided they would live there 25 years and move to Canada for the next 25. When I was 17 my Mom, a Canadian citizen, feared us boys would be drafted into the U.S. military. My parents sent us to live with a relative in Canada.”

Dennis and Brenda both grew up attending Lutheran churches and at times their paths intersected. “We knew each other as kids,” he said. “There was an aura about Brenda that sparked my interest.”

When Brenda was 13, her father passed away. After graduating, she moved to Yellowknife for a year and worked first in a detox centre, then at an A&W. Dennis took several construction equipment courses and got a job driving truck. “I walked away from God for a time,” he said. “Alcohol and drugs were plentiful. I didn’t do drugs.”

Brenda’s family lived in the same area in Alberta and “her mother was a mom to everyone,” Dennis recalled. “I gave her a ride one evening and she didn’t approve of my language.” He remembers clearly that she said only, “shame on you!”

“Over time the example of my parents, Brenda’s mom and others prompted me to begin turning toward God,” he said. A young local pastor apparently saw potential in him and invited him to become part of the church ministry team. Knowing his lifestyle was not yet wholesome, Dennis declined. “You can hide from a lot of things, but you can’t hide from a guilty conscience.”

At age 20 he and a friend scrounged up enough money for the down payment on a semi-trailer truck and began hauling beef from Alberta to Toronto. In time he sold his share in the trucking venture and moved to Toronto. Here he drove an armoured vehicle for Wells Fargo, transporting money. One day, carrying money bags from the vehicle to a bank, he saw a man observing him intently. When the man reached inside his coat, Dennis partially removed his hand gun from its holster. Their eyes locked and the man slowly withdrew his hand.

In 1976 Dennis and Brenda were married and moved to Burns Lake. “A local house church was without a pastor so I led it 2 Sundays a month,” he said. The church had no funds to pay him. For 10 years he worked in logging.

In 1986 they moved to Langley where he pastored a small congregation for 28 years, again without remuneration. They started a trucking company, Feather Weight Hauling. When the need for light weight hauling petered out, they bought a 50 ton trailer. Brenda served as dispatcher and book keeper. Occasionally she instructed an operator in loading equipment.

After 28 years of trucking and pastoring, their son’s illness brought a major upheaval. “Milo was diagnosed with an auto immune disease which attacked his kidneys,” Brenda said. “In recent years he has needed dialysis. Standing by him took up our time so we sold the business. We moved here because the climate would be better for him. He will join us when we have a suite ready.”

Concerning the Hedley pastoral role, Dennis said, “I thought that chapter was closed, but it’s fulfilling to be serving people again. Support has been overwhelming, incredible.”

I’ve seen Dennis helping put away tables and chairs after a community dinner. Brenda assisted with clean up in the kitchen. Like Graham and Myrtle Gore before them, they are already an asset to the community.