Monthly Archives: August 2022

Community, Indigenous People of Similkameen Valley

The Wake For Mary Allison

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The accident occurred near Bromley rock, in the early hours of August 5, 2022.
(Wikipedia Photo)

The name Mary Allison is well known in our community. She was a descendant of John Faul Allison and his indigenous wife, Nora. John Faul was the first white settler in this valley. Nora ran a pack train carrying groceries and other supplies from Hope through inhospitable mountainous terrain to Princeton and beyond. To this day she is revered for her courage and independent spirit. John Faul subsequently married a Caucasian woman, but it is Nora’s offspring who make up much of the Allison clan.

A few weeks ago Mary’s life was snuffed out when the pickup truck in which she was a passenger careened off Highway #3 near Bromley Rock. The vehicle plunged into the Similkameen River and she was unable to extricate herself.

Linda and I have had only limited contact with the Allison family. When Mary’s mother, Christine Allison announced there would be a wake in her home, we felt an urging to attend, but wondered if this would be appropriate. Would the people view us as curious outsiders intruding on a sacred gathering of their people? Linda said she felt somewhat uneasy about going, and I had similar thoughts. We did feel, however, it was important for the Hedley community to show support and compassion, so in spite of misgivings, we decided to go.

Christine and her husband Rick Holmes live on the local reserve. We found their home at the end of a long driveway running parallel to the Similkameen River. It’s an idyllic setting with a splendid view of the valley and mountains.

When we arrived we saw men sitting or standing around a fire. Some Indigenous communities light a fire to honour the individual who has passed from this world. A handful of people near the house greeted us and we asked if we could participate in the wake. They assured us we were welcome and one of the young women led us into the home. Arriving at the top of a short flight of stairs, we saw that the living room, dining room and kitchen were fully occupied. Upon seeing us, there was an immediate stirring. A couple of chairs became vacant and we were invited to sit down. Several individuals greeted us warmly and we quickly felt at ease and welcome.

They were just completing prayers for Mary. Ramona, who has a strong pleasant voice, then led the group in singing several hymns. We sensed that people wanted to support and bless the grieving family.

After the singing it was announced that there was plenty of food and we were urged to fill our plates. “We just finished supper,” Linda said. “We don’t have room to eat now.” Carrie Allison, a respected and much loved Elder said, “Go ahead and fill your plates. You can take them home and eat later.” We followed her suggestion and one of the ladies took the plates and carried them to our car.

Christine had stepped outside and we met her there. She told us that a few days before the accident Mary had said she was wondering about what career would be suitable for her. Her journey through the teenage years had been fraught with difficulties. Now, at age 19 she was beginning to think positively about her future.

As we negotiated the long dirt driveway back to the highway, we realized we had benefited greatly from the warmth and congeniality we had experienced. We had hoped to bless, and had been blessed ourselves.

My Story, People

Aunt Nettie’s Watermelon Event 2022

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Aunt Nettie, Uncle Abe, Aunt Ann,  August 2019

After some two years of covid induced societal panic and restraint, earlier this month my 91 year old Aunt Nettie again summoned her flock to a watermelon and roll kuchen gathering at her home in Kelowna. She’s been doing this each summer for at least a dozen years. I sense in her an understanding that family connections are vital to our well being and if no one makes the effort, this large family will fracture. Then we’ll all spin off in different directions. In each case, our parents are gone and we can no longer look to them to hold the family together. Aunt Nettie seems to grasp intuitively that there is a void and someone needs to lead the way. Like a mother hen calling her chicks to safety under her wings, once a year she stretches out her arms and beckons us to come home.

This is primarily a cousins event. She does another for her children and legions of grandchildren and great grandchildren. Because of the popularity of the gathering, we sit on lawn chairs in her spacious carport.

Some years ago at such an event I became conscious of the distinctive rumbling of an approaching Harley Davidson. I was surprised when the impressive machine turned into Aunt Nettie’s driveway and a young indigenous woman disembarked. She removed her helmet and we realized it was Andrea, one of Aunt Nettie’s foster daughters. She had come from Clearwater. Most of us had not seen her since she was a child. Then her sister Jean and her children also arrived. Being re-acquainted with them was a highlight. Linda and I arranged a further visit with Andrea at our home, which was in Abbotsford at that time.

When my sisters and I were young, special occasions like Christmas and Easter were celebrated in the home of our grandparents. After they passed on, we had smaller gatherings in the home of our parents. These times strengthened family relationships and enabled our children to understand they were part of a larger family.

Now our extended family is scattered across Canada and the U.S. Aunt Netties’s cousins gathering holds some of us together. In spite of her advanced age, many of us see her as the centre. Her hands no longer have the strength to roll out the dough for the roll kuchen (similar to dough boys), so several of the cousins come early to help.

Over the years we’ve been reminded that these gatherings are not to be taken for granted. We’ve already lost Aunt Mary, who used to arrive from Steinbach with a happy smile and sense of humour. To her this family was precious and important. We lost her a few years ago. Uncle Abe, whose voice and mobility had been taken by a stroke, passed on about two years ago. His warm handshake always conveyed his love for the family. Aunt Ann, who will turn 98 next month, used to come but now no longer ventures far from her home in Smithers. We miss her carefree laughter.

We sometimes wonder what will happen when our plucky, visionary aunt is no longer able to muster the will and stamina to hold this family together. One of us will need to call up the resolve to accept the torch she has carried for many years.

Community, Hedley Times

Hedley Street Dance July 30, 2022

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                                                Big Buck Band  (photo from their fb site)

In spite of the Heat Dome firmly entrenched over the Similkameen Valley last weekend, people began arriving in our quaint former gold mining community early Saturday afternoon, ready to party. Due to the covid pandemic, the highly popular annual Hedley Street Dance had been cancelled the past two years. Now the festive atmosphere suggested a pent up desire to make up for lost time.

Cars, pickups, motorhomes and motorcycles lined virtually every street. Scott Avenue, our main street buzzed with the excited chatter of people renewing acquaintances and making new friends. According to Mike, co-owner of the Country Market, 160 meal tickets had quickly been snapped up, many by outsiders. Those who were unable to buy tickets could console themselves with the knowledge they would still be able to dance. Two blocks of Scott Avenue had been cordoned off, and as in the past, the bandstand was placed near the Hedley Country Market.

I had been in the store earlier in the afternoon when there was a sense of controlled pandemonium, although not panic. Store owners Mike and Viktoria were rushing about, ensuring nothing was overlooked. I saw Sara, a cashier run out to attend to something, then hurry to her post at the till. Although the dance was organized by the Hedley Community Club, last minute decisions and actions were emanating from the store. It reminded me of a bee hive ready to swarm.

I saw that several tents had been erected in Woodlie Park in the heart of our community. They were needed to protect servers and food from the heat of the Hedley sun. In the late afternoon volunteers began bringing out bowls of salads and steamed potatoes. Pieces of chicken were ready to be placed on two barbeques.

Tables and chairs had been set up on the street in the shade of Hedley’s two story Post Office building. The places were quickly occupied and it was evident people were anticipating a sumptuous meal. Glancing around, I noticed that all age groups were represented, from the very young to white haired seniors. I recognized a number of Hedley people, but it was evident many attendees had come from other communities. Two couples I spoke with were from Kamloops, others from Princeton and Keremeos and a few from more distant places like Vancouver.

Dusk was already approaching as people finished eating. A hush of anticipation fell on the crowd when “Big Buck, ” a rock and country band, mounted the band stand. Young women, some in colorful summer party dresses, moved eagerly to the centre of the street with their partners.

My attention was drawn to a pretty young girl, about age 4. Wearing a flowing, brightly colored ankle length dress, she quickly became totally immersed in the music. With eyes closed, she was clapping her hands gently and swaying, seemingly in a trance and overtaken by delight.

Leaning against the stone wall at the front of Woodlie Park, I noticed a big man with an impressive black beard that aroused my envy. When the chair beside him was vacated, I sat down and asked his opinion of the music. He very much approved. He told me his home is in Princeton and he drives a logging truck for a local firm. I asked if he knew my friend Jesse, who also drives a logging truck. His face brightened noticeably and he said, “yes, I know him. When you see Jesse, greet him for me and tell him you were talking with James the Bear.” He stroked the luxurious black beard.

A skinny man of about 40 was standing close to me. Wearing no shirt or shoes, he was nervously shifting his feet as though trying to develop the courage to dance. Suddenly his lean body sprang into action and he hopped and skittered along the sidewalk, maneuvering through the throng of revelers. Waving an open can of beer and splashing the contents on a few passersby, he soon lost momentum and stumbled back and forth. People mostly ignored him but when he lost his balance, a pretty blonde woman gently grasped his arm and steadied him. Embarrassed, he mumbled “thanks” and ambled off into the darkness.

Observing the energetic, light footed dancers and the happy onlookers, I realized again that we’re fortunate to have community members willing devote many volunteer hours to breathe life into events like this. They bring us an abundance of joy.