Hedley citizens were awakened by fire sirens & explosions.

Citizens of Hedley were awakened shortly before 4:30 Sunday morning by fire truck sirens and loud explosions. Fire sirens are rarely heard here except on Tuesday evenings when firefighters gather for practise. On this occasion it was for real. Hedley firefighters arrived on the scene within minutes but the fire had spread rapidly and a large 2 story home at the corner of Kingston and First St. was already completely engulfed in flames. (According to the Hedley Museum archivist, it was a heritage building, constructed in 1905 or 1906).

An ominous, massive black plume was rising straight up hundreds of metres. Because the structure was at the edge of town and there was concern trees on the mountainside would catch fire, emphasis was on preventing this and also protecting nearby homes. Several trees at the base of the mountain “candled”, according to a firefighter. Keremeos Fire Department arrived to assist.

It was speculated by an onlooker that the fire started behind the home and that the popping sounds had come from propane cannisters. Later in the morning, during the mopping up stage, Assistant Fire Chief Doug Nimchuk said the cause of the fire is not yet known.

For many years people in Hedley have expressed concern that a fire in town might spark a forest fire and endanger the entire community. In the Sunday morning fire the home was completely destroyed but the diligence and rigorous training of firefighters prevented the blaze from spreading up the mountainside or to nearby structures.

On a Go Fund Me page Savannah Fitch states, “My mother managed to get everyone out of the house in time which included 2 little girls, my 70 year old disabled grandfather and his wife, my mother, 2 dogs, 7 brand new kittens, and the adult mom cat.” The flames were spreading rapidly and they had to leave behind all possessions, including clothes and shoes. Assistance was provided by the Animal Lifeline Emergency Response Team from Penticton and Princeton Emergency Support Services.

Later Sunday morning police secured the scene with crime tape, and a firefighter said an investigation team is on the way. She said it is considered a “crime scene.”

For many years I felt somewhat flummoxed when asked, “What’s new in Hedley?” Until recently, this was a head scratcher. My stock response has been, “You’re asking what’s new in Hedley? We don’t see much change here. Homes often don’t sell for years, and we almost never see a new one being built.”

Now, with the influx of a new breed of property owners, the winds of change are blowing. People are selling their homes in more pricey locations, especially on the west coast. Arriving in Hedley for a look, they’re delighted with the scenic mountains surrounding the town, clean air and more relaxed pace. Most come with creative ideas and some come with finances to implement them. I’ve at times heard them refer to their new home as “my little corner of Eden.”

Larry Bauman is one of this new breed. He “retired” after selling much of the equipment from his commercial and industrial contracting business in Alberta. Now at age 63 and having experienced a good measure of success, he probably could spend his days on the golf course. That apparently is not in his DNA. After buying a home in Hedley “because it has no stairs”, he also bought the property adjacent to it. The two story house on the second property encroached several feet onto his original parcel. Having stood empty and abandoned for years, it qualified easily as the most shabby, decrepit structure in all of Hedley. Located on a prominent corner lot, most people hoped Larry would bring in a wrecking ball.

What we didn’t know is that Larry has an unrelenting will to get things done, and he had an idea that would startle us. He brought in six long, massive beams at $350. each. When a puzzled neighbour asked about his plans, he said, “I’m going to move the building so it’s on its own lot. Then I’ll restore it. I weighed my options and decided it’s possible.”

It seemed a preposterous notion. Surely the age corrupted structure would crumble if it was disturbed. But Larry has plenty of experience with unusual challenges. “I’ve moved lots of buildings,” he explained matter of factly. Then added, “I once took down a three story concrete block bank building. I had a crane lift a machine onto the roof. When none of my crew wanted to go up and operate it to demolish the building, I did it myself.” It was an explanation, not a boast.

Larry removed the front verandah and a rear addition. Then he dismantled a portion of the back wall and replaced it with new lumber. That week he placed the massive beams under the house using his 3 cylinder, diesel powered bobcat. A couple of days later he shifted one end of the house several feet. I asked how he had managed this. “I applied lots of grease to the beams,” he said. “Without that the house wouldn’t move. I used a 20 ton jack to push it over.” He obviously had learned more than a few tricks in his contracting business. “I don’t want anyone telling me how to do it,” he continued. “I want to figure it out myself. I’m doing this to keep from being bored.”

Each time I check in, he has made progress. An inside wall is gone. There are new studs in the perimeter walls, a huge mound of wood and concrete debris has been removed from the yard. One day I helped him move half a dozen sheets of heavy plywood. He carried his end like a stevedore. Watching him, I felt like the 97 pound weakling I used to see in Charles Atlas advertisements on the back cover of comics when I was a kid.

My fascination draws me to Larry’s project almost everyday. On my late evening walk around town I take note of progress elsewhere. My neighbour Tap has constructed a gazebo that deserves a place in the centre of town. Terry Leonard has created a show piece from a former motel that had deteriorated into little more than a shell. Also, two new houses are nearing completion. This new breed is inspiring some longer term people to stir. I recently bought three gallons of paint and a brush. Yes, there’s a gentle wind of change blowing through our delightful little community. I now have an answer for “What’s new in Hedley?”

It ‘s well known by longterm Hedley people that Bremner Lance has plenty of experience working in the woods. As a logger his work has taken him into some challenging, rugged terrain. When we began hearing the incessant buzz of a chainsaw in Hedley recently, we weren’t surprised to see that the operator was Bremner. He began by trimming the branches and was ready to take the tree down piece by piece. Silhouetted against the vastness of the sky, he was a lonely figure, seemingly in another world. This type of situation requires a robust physique and nerves that do not falter. There is no tolerance for complacency or befuddled thinking up there. Not if you want to live. Observing Bremner, I could tell he was totally focused and apparently not at all scared. It’s not work for the faint of heart. Definitely not work I have ever felt called to.

Famed comic Woody Allen once said, “I’m not afraid of dying. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” Many of us can relate to these words. Thoughts of dying tend to induce queasy emotions in the depth of our being. But not for everyone. In a 3 hour conversation over coffee with Shirley Grant of Hedley, I was surprised at her upbeat perspective on this subject. A registered Death Doula, (helper), she accompanies dying individuals in this uncharted, often frightening last phase of their life journey.

She comes with an interesting perspective as she assists people in their approach to the “end zone” of life. “I see death as a sacred passage,” she said. “It’s not a medical event. It’s a natural event. We need to bring dignity to it.”

Shirley worked as a care aide in a facility for 10 years, until her back wore out. Attending to her dying sister, Linda, pointed her toward what she is doing now with palliative care patients. “Linda didn’t need just a pat on the back and some reassuring words,” she said. “When her cancer returned, she knew her remaining time was short.”

Wanting to give her sister an opportunity to express the deep emotions brought on by cancer she asked, “how do you feel knowing you have only about a year to live?” It was the beginning of a deep commitment. “Every time she became restless I’d embrace her. I’d sing and pray. I gave her my word I’d hold her hand at the end.”

This time with Linda helped Shirley understand the need of dying persons to have someone at their bedside in these lonely days, when each breath may be their last. Wanting to assist others, she travelled to Colorado and took the training to become a Death Doula. She now works primarily in assisted living facilities and care homes, mostly in Penticton. Usually she is hired by the patient’s family.

Listening to Shirley, I concluded she is intuitive, compassionate and innovative. She frequently uses vision mapping to help the patient wrap up unresolved areas of their lives. This may include dealing with banking, a mortgage, relationships, unfulfilled desires, and other important issues.

One morning she entered Helen’s room, a woman with a reputation for being rude to staff. “Just put me in a wheelchair and push me over a cliff,” Helen demanded without preamble. Undaunted by the brusque tone Shirley asked, “What else would you like me to do for you?” Helen had a ready reply and her sour mood quickly dissipated. “I’ve always loved the drive around Skaha Lake, but I know that’s not possible.”

Shirley took Helen’s hand and said enthusiastically, “This is your lucky day! Close your eyes and we’ll do it in our imagination. I’ll drive and you tell me what you see and hear.” Uplifted by Shirley’s positive spirit, Helen closed her eyes and began describing what she saw. Later a care aide asked Shirley, “What did you do? She fell asleep and didn’t wake every hour.” That night having been granted her ultimate wish, Helen passed away while sleeping peacefully.

Dorothy’s ultimate wish in her last days was to attend an Elvis concert. The renowned singer was long gone, but Shirley was thrilled when a co-worker located an Elvis impersonator and arranged a private concert for Dorothy, her family and caregivers. “It put a smile on her face and gave her a lot of joy in the closing hours of her life.”

“Sometimes when a family is distressed I can explain things,” Shirley said. “When Emma was in her last hours her daughter, Sandy, wanted to be there when she passed away. She needed to leave the room for something though and while she was gone, Emma ceased breathing. Upon returning, Sandy was distraught. I explained that her mother had chosen this moment because she didn’t want her daughter to carry the memory of seeing her die.”

At times families need counsel to make wise decisions. In one case Shirley advised the family to move their mother from the hospital and return her to the facility she considered home. “That way she can live her last days in a place that is familiar and comfortable to her,” she told them.

Shirley’s joyous spirit is contagious. After our lengthy conversation, I thought even Woody Allen’s anxieties might be quieted if she was at his bedside in his last days.

After hearing the CBC report of an accident on Highway #3 Friday evening, I walked to the highway. The report had been vague concerning the precise location, saying only it was between Old Hedley Road and Nickle Plate Road. Walking along Daly Avenue, I quickly became aware of bright flashing lights at the bridge crossing 20 Mile Creek. A semi-trailer truck was immobile on the bridge, in the west bound lane. As I approached, a jumbo sized tow truck arrived. In the falling snow, alternating traffic was proceeding cautiously in the east bound lane.

Walking alongside the unmoving semi, I saw that a section of concrete barrier had been smashed by the truck. If there had been no barrier, the truck might now be hanging over the edge of the bridge. A man about age 30 was passively observing the scene. I spoke with him and learned he was the owner and driver of the damaged truck.

“I was driving at the posted speed limit,” he told me. “When the truck began to slide I turned away from the barrier, but the truck was already too close. I couldn’t do much.” (Several onlookers disagreed with what the driver said about the speed he had been travelling.) The lanes over the bridge are narrow. In the darkness and steadily falling snow, with oncoming traffic, he would have had little room to maneuver.

The driver seemed surprisingly calm and able to talk about the accident clearly. I detected no indication of alcohol or other substances. “It’s my truck,” he said. “I bought it a few years ago. It’s a wreck now. The frame is bent.”

The driver of the large, very impressive tow truck backed up to within about a dozen feet of the semi. He then attached lines from his truck to the disabled truck. When he attempted to winch the semi forward, the cables made protesting sounds, but the semi refused to budge even an inch.

“The brakes won’t release,” the semi’s owner told me. The ominous groaning of the cables began spooking onlookers, including myself. We moved well away in case the cables snapped from the strain.

“I’m done with trucking,” the driver said, watching his unmoving truck. “When I get back to Abbotsford, I’m going to take the real estate course.”

I decided it might be a while before they managed to dislodge the truck from the bridge. I wished the driver well in the new career he plans to pursue. He thanked me and said “take care.”

I returned to the accident scene this morning. All that remains is a gaping hole in the barrier and a large chunk of damaged concrete. The police will now have to determine what actually happened.