Category Archives: Hedley Times

Fiction, Hedley Times

My Speech at Hedley’s 125 Celebration

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“Mr. Iverson”, beards were a requirement to enter the contest. (photo by Keith Dallamore)

The speech below was delivered at Hedley’s 125 Anniversary celebration, and also at the Canada Day festivities. Male speakers were required to sport a beard, ladies needed to wear apparel reflecting the early years.

Good Evening Ladies and Gents,

My name is Iverson. If you don’t recognize me, it’s because I’m new to these parts.

When I heard gold had been discovered here in your fair community, I jumped on the first stage and arrived late last night. If you’re wondering why I came and why the rush, it’s because I knew men would have jobs and money. There would be ample opportunities for anyone in my profession.

I suppose you might be thinking I don’t look like I’d be a good miner, so am I here to establish a brothel? No, neither of these are my reason for coming. I’m actually a professional gambler. Been at it a long time.

In the beginning I lost many a paycheck from my day job. With time though, I learned to read faces and now the paychecks of other gamblers most often end up in my pockets.

Are you thinking by now I’m just a greedy old man who has come to take money from your hardworking miners? Well, I have a little story to tell you.

Just last week I was in the smoky back room of a hotel, setting up to do some gambling, as is my practise. I looked up and saw a big man enter the room and start toward my table. I observed him carefully and guessed he was in his late thirties. His stooped shoulders and a cough suggested to me he had worked underground many years. He had the appearance of a man down on his luck.

“My name is Barney,” he said. “I have a missus and half a dozen young’uns. The mine pays me enough to cover the rent, put food on the table and buy clothes and shoes for the family, but not much more. Two of the young’uns are ill, and I don’t have money to buy medicine. I haven’t ever gambled but I’m ready to start today.”

Listening to Barney and observing him, I wanted to change his mind. “Barney, glad to meet you,” I said, “my name is Iverson. I see you have an honest face and your body tells me you’re a hard worker. I have to tell you this is not a good idea. If you sit down at this table, by midnight your money will be in my pocket. Don’t do it.”

Inspite of my words, he lowered his big frame into the chair across from me and said, “Mr. Iverson, I don’t have no choice.”

He was desperate and determined, so I started dealing and Barney started losing. Half an hour later I asked if he wanted to quit, but as is so often the case, he hoped his luck would change. As I had warned him, by midnight his money was in my pockets. Totally dejected, he got up to leave.

“Barney,” I said, “I’ll be in the hotel cafe at 10 tomorrow morning. If you join me, I’ll buy you a big breakfast.”

I didn’t expect Barney to show up but when I arrived at the cafe he was already at the entrance, waiting for me. His haggard face told me he had slept little. We entered and he ordered ham and fried spuds. I was sure he had an appetite for much more, so I said to the waitress, “My friend works hard. Add some flapjacks, toast, and three eggs. And please leave us a pot of coffee.”

We chatted until the food arrived. Then Barney ate hungrily, like a man who hasn’t had a good meal in weeks. The toast and ham, however, he wrapped in a napkin. “For my family,” he explained. When we had finished eating he pushed his plate aside and leaned forward. “Thanks for the breakfast Mr. Iverson,” he said, “ and thanks for trying to stop me from gambling. When I told my missus I’d lost our money, she wept half the night. You won’t see me at your table again. I was just a doggone fool last night.”

These were the words I had hoped to hear. I reached into my shirt pocket and withdrew an envelope. “Barney, here’s the money you lost, plus an extra hundred,” I said. “Use it to buy the medicines your youngsters need, and whatever else you decide.”

He hadn’t expected this, and his hand trembled as he accepted the envelope. “Thanks, Mr. Iverson,” he said, with little more than a whisper. As he turned away, I saw him brush tears from his cheeks. If he had looked back, he would have seen that I was also brushing tears from my cheeks.

Hedley Times

Hedley Celebrates 125 Years

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Terry & Cindy Regier,
Terry organized the outhouse race, Cindy was one of the main event organizers. (Photo Gerry Wilkin)

Hedley’s main street was crowded with people and vendors as the community celebrated its 125th birthday this past weekend. For most of those exploring the town, visiting the museum, looking for mementos, and eating delicious food, there was an abundance of joy and excitement. Some returning after years away experienced a palpable sense of nostalgia. The community has a rich and colorful history that old timers and newcomers are eager to preserve.

The celebration began with a wine and cheese event Friday evening, followed Saturday morning by the community’s best parade in many years. Led by Hedley’s Fire Department and a Princeton police cruiser, there were approximately 30 entrants. Dancing ladies in colorful old time dresses were a crowd favorite. The ladies weren’t young but they had attractive moves and the energy of 20 year olds. Even young men took notice.

TJ Bratt, Edveena, & Shirley Grant. TJ was the other main event organizer. (photo Gerry Wilkin)

Rousing music by members of the Vancouver Traveling Band added to the festive atmosphere.

Vancouver Traveling Band leader, Harry Peterson, born in Hedley, 1948. (photo Gerry Wilkin)

The newly minted Hedley Relics Car Club had a number of shiny well groomed entries.

Hedley Relics (photo Gerry Wilkin)

Not so shiny were two tractors driven by Stirling Creek ranch hand Trevor Nolin and his son Hunter. These are working tractors and the 1942 Ford ran as smoothly as though it had just rolled out of the factory. The 1940 McCormick is rugged and powerful but showing its age. Outhouses on wheels drew much comment and speculation. At the end of the long line were two riders on horses. Many spectators considered the parade a highlight.

Horses on main street
(Gillian Welton)

Food was on the minds of many revellers. All 140 tickets for the Saturday night dinner had been quickly snapped up and procrastinators had to visit a street vendor or the Hedley Country market.

Dinner was prepared by a caterer and served by volunteers, both women and men. Due to the numbers, volunteers needed to operate in high gear and were exhausted when all guests had been served and the clean up completed.

Margaret Skaar delivering her winning Hedley Ambassador speech.(photo Gillian Welton)

After dinner many in the crowd moved to the Community Hall for the Hedley Ambassador speech contest. Speeches focused on life as experienced 125 years ago. Dressed in attire common at that time, Margaret Skaar, age 81, won first place. Her speech was about a woman who emigrated from Britain to BC with her two young children many years ago. She now has the distinction of being a Hedley Ambassador. After the speeches, chairs were moved and people danced to music provided by the “Howling Coyotes”.

Sunday morning the food servers rose early to offer the Hedley Centre’s popular pancake breakfast. For the bargain price of eight dollars, people received two eggs, two sausages or strips of bacon, pancakes and coffee. Those who planned to attend a special service in Hedley’s little church at 9:30 arrived early and were fed promptly. Sleeping in turned out to be a bad idea. Demand was so strong, breakfast was still being served at noon. When a man asked about lunch, a weary volunteer replied firmly, “No, we’re done!” After their yeoman efforts Saturday night and Sunday morning, this was quite understandable.

In one-to-one conversations, several individuals talked about experiences with the mine. Two sisters, Sheila Maurer and Sandra Hemrick, had moved with their parents to Hedley in 1943. Their father, Lawrence Smillie served as mine manager until 1955 when the gold petered out and he shut down the mine.

Carl Lofroth recalled living as a child with his parents at Central, the halfway switching point high on the tram line. His father regulated the ore cars hauling ore to the Stamp Mill below. Now a senior, Carl still has vivid memories.

Young dancers posing in their regalia. (photo Gillian Welton)

An Upper Similkameen Indian Band cultural event at their headquarters featured exuberant children in colourful regalia dancing to the beat of a booming drum. Free very delicious bannock enticed many visitors to indulge. The atmosphere was congenial and welcoming.

Outhouses at the starting line. (photo by Gillian Welton)

Final item on the very full weekend was the eagerly awaited outhouse races. Six entrants lined up on Daly Avenue for the approximately 100 meter mad dash to the finish line at the museum. Those pushing the outhouses displayed amazing gusto and there were many cheers and laughs. At the end of the race riders pulled strenuously on a rope to ring the museum’s big bell.

This marked the end of the celebration but people lingered, still savouring this remarkable weekend. Ken Knutson expressed the sentiment of many when he said “there was magic.” Primary organizers TJ (Terri-Jo) Bratt and Cindy Regier were tired but ecstatic. “A lot of dedicated volunteers made it a great success,” they agreed.

Hedley Times, Indigenous People of Similkameen Valley

Carrie Allison, Caretaker of the Chapels

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For many years a diminutive white chapel perched like a beacon of hope on a bluff overlooking Highway 3, just east of Hedley. When a month had a fifth Sunday, a priest arrived to conduct mass for a handful of parishioners, most of whom came from the two local reservations. In spite of the evils of church run residential schools, for me the chapel seemed a symbol of purity, exuding an aura of authenticity and a refreshing lack of ostentation. For some band members though, it likely stirred bitter memories of prejudice and abuse. On June 26, 2021, shortly after unmarked graves of children were discovered at a former Kamloops residential school, an arsonist put a match to this iconic structure.

Some time after the fire Linda and I attended a Wake for a band member and we were greeted warmly by Carrie Allison, a revered member of the local band. She told us there is still an earlier chapel, situated at a lower level on the same property. “Come and have a look,” she invited. “I’ll give you a tour.”

The “jail” in the foreground hasn’t been used in a long while. photo by Gerry Wilkin

Several weeks later Carrie showed us the unpainted original chapel and also the small log structure that once served as the band jail. After the tour she sat with Linda and me in our Sun Room and talked about her life and the two chapels. “The first one was built in about 1890,” she said. “The white one was built in 1910. The people worked tirelessly, bringing building supplies with horse and wagon. It was very hard work. The elders who built them are gone now. I still do the cleaning and arrange for maintenance. I want to show respect for their efforts and sacrifices.”

The interior of the original chapel is much more ornate than the exterior. Pews. altar and other items were donated by the St. Ann’s Parish in Penticton.
photo by Gerry Wilkin

Listening to Carrie, we wondered how she was able to rise above prejudice and difficult circumstances to become an inspirational role model to many in our community. Certainly her early years could have fostered a resentful, rebellious spirit.

“I was born in Merritt almost 92 years ago,” she said. “My birth father was white, a bad man. I didn’t get to know him.”

Like many indigenous children, Carrie didn’t get a great start in life. Her education began in a reservation school but at age 8 she was sent to a residential school in Kamloops. “Some of the nuns were nice,” she recalled, “but not all. One was especially mean to young children. We were in class half a day and worked half a day. We planted and weeded the crops. My mother had taught me to sew and I mended the boys’ pants, socks and shirts. If we didn’t make our beds perfectly, they were ripped apart and we had to start over. At meal times we saw the priests and nuns eating nutritious meals, including meat. Our meals were skimpy, with no meat. At Easter they gave us each a boiled egg with our meal. I was always hungry.”

She was 10 and had been in the residential school three years when her older sister refused to go back. “I decided not to go back either, so I ran away,” Carrie said. “I walked 8 miles to my grandparents home. My grandfather told me if I wasn’t going to school, I’d have to work. They couldn’t afford to feed me. I worked in orchards, did gardening and housework. Later I also worked in a restaurant.”

In 1949 at age 18 she married Edward (Slim) Allison, who later became band chief. At age 40 she returned to school and achieved a grade 10 standing. She decided to become a hair dresser and set up a salon in her home. When she was 60, Carrie applied for a social insurance card. “My mother couldn’t read or write,” she recalled. “She told me I was born on March 6, but when the card arrived, it said March 27.”

Carrie isn’t one of the bitter ones. Following her mother’s example, she still helps elderly and poor people in need. “When people ask how I can stay with the Catholic church after the abuse and humiliation of the residential school system, I tell them it wasn’t God who did that to me. People did it.”

Still vibrant, resolute and active in the local band, she will celebrate her 92nd birthday in March. Her good will, wisdom and resilience continue to be an example and inspiration to the band and the Hedley community.

Carrie Allison at the entrance to the Chuchuwayha Oblate Mission Church. photo by Gerry Wilkin.

 

Hedley Times, Indigenous People of Similkameen Valley, People

Hedley Fundraiser for Terry Wells

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photo by Terrence Wells

When Terry Wells woke early last Wednesday, he realized immediately his life was in danger. He had gone back to bed after loading his wood stove. Apparently it over heated and a thick cloud of smoke was hanging in the air, scarcely two feet above his head. His camper home had caught fire and he knew the place would quickly be engulfed in flames. “I crawled to the door,” he said later. “The smoke was so thick, I was sure if I took another breath I would die.” Scantily clad, he emerged into the cold winter air. On bare feet in the snow that still covered the ground, he watched his home explode into flames. Virtually everything he owned was quickly enveloped in fire and black smoke.

“My shed caught fire,” he said. “I had ammunition and propane tanks in there. They exploded and the force blew me across the yard. I was in shock. I couldn’t think.”

Fortunately his son Terrence lives on the same property and he quickly came to look for him. Seeing Terry’s dog still tethered to the shed, he released it, thereby saving it from certain death. Due to the intense heat, he wasn’t able to save the dog house.

Hedley Fire Chief Bill Rube arrived, but the fire was outside the department’s jurisdiction. He was there to ensure no one was in danger. The police also showed up, apparently at least in part to determine whether this was a case of arson. When a bullet exploded in the still burning shed, the officer decided he had all the information he needed.

photo by Dian McKusick

Later that day Terry visited our neighours Tap and Dian. Knowing Tap is skilled in working with wood, he asked him to build a new dog house. Dian offered to cook the meat that had survived in his freezer. Others in the community also wanted to help. The Upper Similkameen Indian Band immediately provided funds so Terry could buy new clothes. The Hedley Hall and the Hedley Community Centre joined forces to put on a fund raiser. Sixty five tickets were sold and many of us enjoyed a delicious spaghetti and meat balls dinner. The Hedley church has committed to a cash donation. Individuals have also promised to contribute, including some who live here only part time.

Watching this drama unfold, I’m again impressed by the way the people of our community often choose to stand by individuals in the midst of trauma and adversity. We seem to understand that to live here, somewhat removed from the rest of society, we cannot think only of our own needs. One day we may also hope our neighbours will stand by us.

photo by Terrence Wells

 

 

Hedley Times, My Story

The Ambulance Ride

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I considered myself fortunate to be in the care of Paramedic Tim Roberts of Keremeos.

The Ambulance Ride

If Hedley had a newspaper, my photo and name would almost certainly have been on the front page last Thursday. It wasn’t that I had done something remarkable, but when an ambulance arrives in town people take note. Because Hedley is a small community, we know most people here and immediately wonder who the ambulance has come for. On Thursday I was that someone.

This little “adventure” began when I awoke and instructed my body to exit the bed. I had things to accomplish and it was time to get moving, but my body seemed to not comprehend. When there was no response I was puzzled and troubled. What was causing this sluggishness? Had I suffered a stroke while sleeping?

My dread of strokes had settled upon me during the six years my dad was in a long term care facility in Abbotsford. Every time I visited him I saw lonely, incapacitated individuals, some of whom had been confined by a stroke to a wheelchair or bed. I was appalled at their state of helplessness and since then I’ve committed to doing whatever possible to avoid such a calamitous outcome. For years each morning Linda and I have begun our day with 45 minutes of stretches and exercises. In the late afternoon we walk around the perimeter of Hedley one or more times. In the evening I do a brief workout with light weights. I limit my coffee intake to one cup per day, drink little alcohol and have never smoked.

Lying in my bed that morning, I felt betrayed by my body. If this was what I feared, our idyllic lives in Hedley would never be the same.

These thoughts had free rein while I struggled toward the edge of the bed. With considerable effort I managed to place my feet on the floor, then by holding on to furniture wobbled toward a chair. When I tried to sit down I barely avoided crashing to the floor.

“Call 911,” I whispered to Linda. “Something has happened. I may have had a minor stroke.”

About half an hour later an ambulance arrived and I was heartened to see that one of the paramedics was our friend Tim Roberts. He helped me to our front door where another paramedic waited with a stretcher. Bereft of strength, I slumped into the stretcher and they carried me to the ambulance. Tim immediately affixed wires connecting me to a monitor. “This is to provide preliminary information for the hospital,” he explained. He asked a series of questions including “what day of the month is it today?” I guessed wrong. He also instructed me to smile. I would again be asked similar questions by nurses at the hospital.

“If you don’t find anything negative,” I said, “are you going to let me out of here?” Without pausing, Tim said, “no, we’re going to the hospital.” It wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

Lying on the narrow cot with Tim at my side conducting tests, all I could do was think about the implications of this unwelcome development. I recalled my desire on my 80th birthday to finish strong. Linda and I have always sought to make a positive contribution to our community and I had hoped we’d be able to continue. And now this.

At the hospital there were more tests. Several nurses checked on me during the day and each asked what day of the month it was.(I was tempted to ask if the hospital didn’t have a calendar). They also instructed me to smile.

In the meantime, several neighbours offered to drive Linda to the hospital. Someone had my name added to the local church’s prayer list. A friend in Pt. Alberni called. Other calls indicated that people were concerned and wanted to stand by us.

At the end of a long day they did a CT Scan and then a doctor informed me the tests did not indicate a stroke. My body was beginning to function with less distress and Linda showed up to take me home. We agreed the episode was likely due to an unfamiliar sleep medication.

The experience certainly rattled me but was it a wasted day? Hardly. For me it was a reminder that life can be devastated in a moment. Life is too precious to be frittered away by complacency. I need to attend to important matters before my time runs out.

This incident occurred January 12, 2023, due to a computer glitch I was unable to post it until now.

Hedley Times, People

TJ Bratt, A Mover And Shaker In Hedley

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Terri-Jo Bratt outside the Hedley Country Market

In the game of life, TJ (Terri-Jo) Bratt is not a bystander. Born in Edmonton and raised in St. Albert, she later migrated to Osoyoos. In 1991 she attended the Hedley Blast, a high calibre country and western music festival. Sitting at the round table in our sun room she said, “I quickly fell in love with Hedley, When I noticed that the small confectionery in the heart of the community was for sale, I saw potential.”

The single story structure that piqued her interest had limited space, but it was the only local source for staples like eggs, milk, bread and potatoes.

“My offer was accepted and the paperwork was signed,” she said. “Then there was an unanticipated wrinkle. The day I signed the papers I was told the building directly across the street had also been sold and the buyer planned to operate a corner type of grocery store. This building was considerably larger and would undoubtedly be a significant threat to my little venture.” Astonished and deeply chagrined at this unwelcome development, she was momentarily shaken. “I asked myself, what was I thinking?”

Fortunately TJ and her siblings had been shown an example of fortitude and resilience by their parents. “Mom was very active in the community,” TJ said. “She took us along to her curling club, softball games, and to whatever she had planned. Even with five children, she always forged ahead. Dad owned a lumberyard and he many times told us we could accomplish anything we set our minds to.”

TJ was an apt observer and gladly absorbed the lessons of her parents’ example. From them she learned to think clearly and resolutely in trying circumstances, traits that have enabled her to survive ups and downs in her personal life and also her business ventures.

An action person, she began developing her potential early. In grade 4 she won a public speaking award. She also tap danced, highland danced, did babysitting and became a high school cheerleader. In her later teens, she did her work experience at Scotia Bank. Upon graduating, she was given the Chamber of Commerce award based on the question, “Who would be a good representative for your community?” The bank management recognized her giftings and offered her full time employment. At age 19, she was appointed to the position of branch Loans Manager.

In her early twenties a terrifying incident tested her fortitude and quick wittedness. While driving her friend’s car late one evening, the vehicle suddenly became airborne and plunged into the rushing North Saskatchewan River. Fighting fear and panic, she managed to manually roll down the driver side window, extricate herself, and swim to the shore. Because the car had hurtled over the trees along the river bank, there was no indication of an accident and the police didn’t believe her story until the vehicle was discovered in the river several weeks later.

When TJ took over her store here, fierce competition from across the street compelled her to rely on her innate ingenuity, explosive energy, and the lessons of her parents. She quickly applied for licensing to sell lotto tickets and also liquor.

Wanting to make a positive difference, she joined the Hedley Community Club. Here she met Doug Bratt and they soon realized they were equally committed to making Hedley an exciting, safe community. They began investing time, money, and energy in club ventures, including the ball park and outdoor skating rink.

Working closely on various projects, they soon realized they were kindred spirits. “In 1996 we eloped to Nelson and got married,” TJ said smiling. “Some years later when our competition was put up for sale, the numbers made sense and we bought it.”

Over the ensuing years they built a thriving enterprise. Their son Jake and also Doug’s two daughters put in time at the cash register.

This year has been a time of transition, with Viktorya and her husband Mike taking over the business, thereby freeing TJ and Doug to pursue other interests and commitments. I often see TJ’s car at the home of Natalie, a single lady up in age. “I bring her meals three times a week,” TJ said. “Natalie is very talented and often we sit at her kitchen table and write poetry together. Until Roland and Ena moved to Penticton, Doug brought meals to them.”

Although they are now technically in retirement, we shouldn’t expect to see them reclining in easy chairs for some time.

Hedley Times

Bears Have Arrived In Hedley

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Cinnamon Bear in Manning Park (courtesy of Jess Findlay, Pinterest)

It’s definitely bear sighting season in Hedley and virtually every old-timer in town has a favorite bear story. One account that captured my attention some years ago came from Sylvia. Already elderly at the time, she and her husband Harry had lived most of their lives here. “I had just turned the calendar page to October,” she said. “I was standing at the kitchen sink, about to wash the supper dishes. Dusk was setting in and Harry, as usual, had settled into his easy chair in the living room, pipe in hand. I had lit a fire in the woodstove to take the chill off.”

“This evening I was thinking about tasks that needed doing before bedtime. I wasn’t giving attention to happenings outside my home. This changed when I glanced out the kitchen window. A large black bear was standing upright on it’s hindquarters, observing me with keen interest. It was no more than five feet from the house. Being watched at such close quarters made me jittery. I backed away but the curious bear moved it’s great body closer for a better view. I’d heard that bears don’t have good vision so I turned off the kitchen light. Pretty soon it lost interest and ambled off to find other entertainment.”

Sylvia’s bear adventure happened almost 40 years ago. Apparently bears haven’t made significant changes to their strategies for acquiring a layer of fat before their extended winter sleep.

Agnes, an elderly widow, lives alone. “This year I picked my apples early so they wouldn’t be poached by bears,” she said. “This happened the previous year and I didn’t intend to share my fruit again. I stored the apples in my basement but got distracted by the cat and didn’t close the door.”

Late that evening rustling sounds from downstairs made her anxious. If there was an intruder, she’d have to deal with the situation herself. Turning on the basement lights, she eased quietly down the stairs. In the corner where she had stored the apples, a black bear was sitting on its haunches, contentedly enjoying her freshly picked fruit. Agnes is an independent minded gal, but this was a bit much. Terrorized, she shrieked so loud the bear scrambled to its feet and bolted out the door.

At this time of year, we expect to see bears wandering about in town, searching for nourishment. A couple of days ago Tap, our next door neighbor came upon a black bear destroying the grapevine in their back yard. He yelled at the animal, but it proved unwilling to abandon this feast. It growled, ignored Tap and brazenly continued tearing apart the prized vine. Tap isn’t a man to be trifled with. He resolutely grabbed a metal rake and smacked the bear on the head with all the force he possessed. The big animal turned and glared at him, then leaped over the rear gate. Tap hasn’t seen it again. Maybe the bear is nursing a headache.

Ross, a cross town neighbor didn’t fare quite as well. When he went out in the morning several days ago he discovered a flat tire on his van. Examining the wheel more closely, he realized a bear had taken a couple of bites out of a nearly new tire. Only a ravenous bear would do that.

A serious lack of precipitation is once again shrinking the food supply for all animals and they are coming down the local mountains in search of sustenance. My friend Larry told me he’d chased a bear out of his garage. “It was skinny” he said. “Didn’t look at all like it is ready for winter.” Larry’s bear won’t need to be concerned about fattening up for the coming winter. Someone in town apparently felt compassion for the animal, believing it was too diseased and skinny to survive. Yesterday a Conservation Officer came to town and shot the bear.

Most black bears can be chased away, but it’s unwise to become complacent. A number of years ago my friend Al dozed off while sitting alone by his campfire, deep in the wilderness, late at night. “A bear entered my camp and I must have stirred and surprised it,” he said later. “It ripped off part of my scalp with its claws. I consider myself lucky to be alive. Now when there are bears nearby, I take nothing for granted.” In Hedley we need to consider his advice.

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Note: Black Bear is a species, not a color. Black bears come in more colors than any other North American mammal. (courtesy of BearWise.org). However, the bears sighted in Hedley this year were black.

 

 

 

Community, Hedley Times

Marvin’s 90th Birthday Party

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Marvin knew there was to be a celebration of his 90th birthday at the Hedley Hall. He dressed for the occasion and his appearance was pretty spiffy. Even though he had been told this little party was for him, when he entered the hall his face and physical demeanor registered astonishment.

Marvin paused when he entered the hall.

Maybe he had expected only a handful of his neighbours to come, not the approximately 30 smiling guests shouting “Happy Birthday Marvin!” Also, he likely had not expected elaborate decorations including a large banner wishing him a Happy 90th birthday. For a moment he stood transfixed.

Marvin lives alone on the far side of the community, alongside 20 Mile Creek. I stop and chat with him when I meet him on the street, but I don’t know his full name. It’s quite possible no one in town knows his last name.

We enjoyed a delicious lunch served by the Hedley Hall ladies. Some of us were still eating when there was a loud knock on the exterior door.

Marvin was still eating his cake when there was a loud knock on the door.

An elderly woman entered, wearing a long dress with a shawl around her shoulders, a kerchief tied over her grey hair, and walking with a cane. By her accent we understood she and Marvin have a common Ukrainian heritage.“My name is Baba,” she announced. “The farmers from back home on the Saskatchewan prairies sent me to share best wishes and words of wisdom.”

Marvin broke in and said, “I’m almost afraid to hear their message.”

“Be mindful of corona virus,” Baba advised. “Don’t drink that beer in the sun. That’s the truth of where corona virus comes from. Also, don’t fall for any of those crazy health food fads. At our age, we need all the preservatives we can get!”

After dispensing more sage advice, Baba said, “your friends sent me to dance for you. I’ve been taking lessons but I warn you, I’m just a beginner. I’m going to do a pole dance!” and she held up 2 canes. Then without moving her feet, she vigorously moved her hips from side to side.

 

Marvin enjoying the humor.

Baba paused, glanced at her audience and winked at us. She ended her speech with, “Marvin was a good dancer. He sure knew how to shake, rattle and roll! He still does … every morning when he gets out of bed.”

Marvin smiled many times during Baba’s humorous presentation, then got up and did a mini jig on the spot. “This is the best town I’ve ever lived in,” he said. He was given a number of gifts, including a gift card to use at the Hedley Country Market. There was also a walking stick with his name carved on it.

Marvin expressed his appreciation.

The members of the Hedley Hall gave Marvin a party he may never forget. And they gave us all an opportunity to get to know him better and have some great fun.

 

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.

Hedley Times, Inspiration

Canada Day: Remembering Our Forgotten Heroes

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Raising the flag at the Hedley, BC museum for Canada Day.

As an adolescent growing up in a rural British Columbia community, I was profoundly impressed by individuals who accomplished the extraordinary. New York Yankees center fielder Mickey Mantel was at the top of my personal list. Scientist Albert Einstein grabbed my rapt attention, as did best selling writers like Ernest Hemingway and John Steinbeck.

Examining my list now, I’m amazed at how little attention I gave to Canadians at that young age. With Canada Day approaching I decided it was time for a little re-education to fill in some of the gaps of my understanding of Canada’s history. I concluded that although to my young mind, Canadian achievements may not have seemed as spectacular as Mickey Mantel leaping high in the air to catch a fly ball at the fence, we have reason to celebrate our past.

I began with an obvious question. Who named our country? Lately I’ve heard some individuals say we should not call our celebration Canada Day because it likely is offensive to indigenous people. According to history texts, explorer Jacques Cartier heard the name Kanata referred to by indigenous people. It was the name of a village situated on the present site of Quebec City. Cartier assumed it meant the entire country and he named it Canada.

Indigenous people played a crucial role in enabling early Europeans to explore and exploit Canada, with its vast often treacherous terrain and harsh weather. They provided the light, versatile birch bark canoes which could more easily be carried on portages.

When greedy white hunters killed off the the buffalo herds and settlers stole the land, indigenous people became hungry and restless. It was a time of desperation and turmoil. The young men clamoured for war.

Chief Poundmaker of the Saskatchewan Cree recognized that the settlers would be able to eradicate his people with their superior weapons and numbers. A man of great dignity and honour, he was guided by a selfless desire to obtain a good life for his people. Rather than advocating violence, Chief Poundmaker asked the government to provide instruction in farming and other types of assistance in exchange for their land. With words and example, he reasoned with his people and averted much of the potential shedding of blood. The government moved people onto reserves, but reneged on the promises to provide the help they needed.

While indigenous people were being relegated to reserves, white settlers, mostly European, were setting in place the basics of this country. George Brown, a reform minded British Canadian established the Toronto Globe, which became Canada’s most influential newspaper at the time. He was active in the pursuit of national unity and attended the Charlottetown and Quebec conferences in 1864. In 1867 he participated in the forming of The Liberal Party. He was also a member of the Elgin Association, which purchased land for escaped American slaves to live on. He promoted westward expansion and opposed the policies of Conservative Prime Minister John A. Macdonald.

Kit Coleman, an Irish Canadian columnist has been largely forgotten, and yet her example inspired women to believe they could set more challenging goals and achieve them. Curious and willing to risk, Kit became the first accredited female war correspondent. She was elected president of the Canadian Womens’ Press Club. Throughout her career she shrugged off the disparaging attitudes of male co-workers who believed a woman’s place was in the home.

Bush pilots played a key role in the opening and development of Canada’s North. Of these pioneering aviators, Clennel Haggerston (1899-1995), better known as Punch, was one of the most daring and adventuresome. Flying more than a million miles across the uncharted North, often in treacherous weather looking for scarce landing strips, he became a legend among the hardy inhabitants of this rugged terrain. Indigenous people dubbed him “Snow Eagle.” He delivered the first air mail to the Northwest Territories. In WW1 he joined the Royal Air Force. A highly skilled pilot, he was credited with shooting down 7 enemy aircraft, a rare feat for bomber pilots.

Canada does have heroes. Some, like Terry Fox uplifted our spirits and will not soon be forgotten. Others, including Private Smoky Smith in WW1 inspired his comrades in arms, but his name probably is not recognized by many Canadians in our time.

Canada Day. It can be a reminder to pause at least for a few moments and honor our many unsung heroes.