Ruth Woodin may still sing in her shower at home, but she won’t be singing in the Hedley Post Office anymore. After 25 years behind the counter providing advice and cheer along with stamps and mail, she retired just over a week ago. Her outgoing personality, combined with wit and a no nonsense response to occasional cranky customers, made her an ideal Postmaster for this rural community.

“I stayed past retirement age because I loved the job and the people,” she said. “Also, I wanted to pay off my mortgage and buy a new car.” Because her postal career began as part-time and then as acting Postmaster, she didn’t quite match the record of T.C. Knowles. Knowles was a local World War II hero and served as Postmaster from 1936 to 1958. “I feel good about letting him have the record,” she said.

Reflecting on the years she told me, “It’s like yesterday I started on the job and now it’s over. Sometimes I felt like a bartender. A lot of people came to me with their problems. One woman told me she had discovered her husband in bed with a stepdaughter. Tears began trickling down her cheeks as she talked. I opened the gate in the counter and put my arms around her. She moved out of town, but a couple of years later I received a thank you note from her.”

There were also miserable customers. “When I saw them on the street, I hoped they wouldn’t come in. For some time there was a woman who complained about everything I did. Sometimes she yelled. She wondered who had trained me. In her mind, everything I did was wrong. After some years though, she mellowed and started coming in to chat. On special occasions she brought me cards and flowers. Now she is a friend.”

One customer accused Ruth and her assistant of steaming open mail and reading it. He also said they were hiding mail. “That would have been foolish. We would have endangered our jobs.”

Lost keys at times provided a touch of hilarity. “One customer said his dog had eaten a 2” by 2” piece of wood to which his mail key had been attached. It took 4 days for the key to pass through the dog’s system and reappear.”

Ruth didn’t open the gate in her counter only to console. Sometimes she hugged a customer who had shared a significant experience. “I did get a little carried away occasionally,” she admitted with a chuckle. “I sometimes chatted with the Greyhound driver who stopped regularly at the Country Market. Just before Christmas one year I spontaneously threw my arms around him and wished him a Merry Christmas. Then it occurred to me I hardly knew this man. It surprised me I had done this. I’m sure he wondered what that was all about.”

Because Ruth handled all mail, she knew the people. “The Mounties sometimes wondered if I knew a person they were attempting to locate. I told them I know everyone in town. If I don’t know them, they don’t live here.”

Along the way Ruth has been deeply involved in the community. “The celebration of Hedley’s 100 years was a great event. I was on the planning committee and responsible for organizing the parade. I got lots of help. It was our best parade ever.”

Her enthusiasm was evident as she recounted the participation of Similkameen communities. “The Princeton Rodeo sent a stage coach. The Princeton Marching Band came. Keremeos sent 5 really ancient tractors. Men on horseback and ladies in elaborate regalia came from the Lower Similkameen Indian Band.”

What will Ruth do now that she doesn’t need to show up at the post office each week day morning? “I’ll do jigsaw puzzles and walk more. Also, I hold several positions in town including secretary of the Museum Society.”

She has travelled extensively and has plans for more. “I’ve put my name in for a cruise down the Mississippi River,” she said. When I remarked that Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer had done this many years ago, she replied, “We better not be on a raft.”

Last Friday approximately 65 appreciative friends celebrated Ruth’s retirement with a sumptuous potluck dinner at the Hedley Seniors’ Centre. The stories told about her produced many laughs and some tears. We really should have asked our singing Postmaster for one last tune.

When Karen Cummings discovered a hand written poem inside the back cover of a library book, she felt deeply moved. “I wanted to keep the book,” she admitted, “but I realized I must let others read the poem too.” She chose instead to purchase a used soldier’s uniform and create a piece of textile art. It’s a creation that has the rare capacity to seep deep into the psyche of its beholder.

When Karen approached me several months ago to talk about her “Hedley Hankie” enterprise, we arranged a conversation. Her husband, Ken Hoyle, listened with rapt interest as she talked about their lives and her current art interests.

Ken and Karen moved to Hedley from Ontario last year to be closer to their children and grandchildren. “Over the past 5 years we’ve taken steps to simplify our lives,” she told Linda and me. “We particularly wanted a smaller home in a less chaotic area. I gave away 13 large pieces of my art work. We tried to give away a dining room table that seated 12. When we moved from our 3000 square foot home, we were able to load everything into an 8 foot container.”

They seem wonderfully content in their bright, recently updated home. Karen’s creations provide a spectacular splash of colour on every wall. Observing their present life, we would not have guessed they endured a measure of turmoil in the past.

Karen’s birth family connections have almost completely unravelled. “I was raised to be a stay at home wife and have children,” she said. She had difficulty accepting the expectations of her family. She did, however, get married at age 18, moved to Ontario with her husband and bore 2 children. In time the marriage disintegrated.

Over the years Karen entered into various business ventures. “I always loved the creative entrepreneurial spirit. At one time I owned a clothing store in a high profile mall. The rent was $5,000 a month.” Preoccupied with operating the business, she didn’t realize she was going broke. “I was amazed when my accountant told me I’d have to declare bankruptcy. They came and put a padlock on the door.”

Karen didn’t dwell on her personal financial losses due to the closing of the store. It was the inability to adequately compensate her suppliers that she talked about. “The clothes were made mostly by small mom and pop businesses. Also, I had to let my employees go. It was difficult.” After that she was careful to only be involved in businesses funded or serviced by herself.

Everything began to change for her and for Ken (who had also experienced marriage failure) when they met on a blind date. “My boss was Ken’s neighbour,” Karen said. “She told Ken we should meet. We went out for dinner and Ken told me later I never took off my sunglasses.” Apparently the sunglasses weren’t a real impediment. They’ve been together 18 years. “Ken is the kindest person I’ve ever met,” she said. “We talk about everything.”

For Karen’s art interests, 2010 was a threshold year. “I came to textile art. That summer I decided I would pretend I’m an artist. I took courses in drawing and painting. I had a sewing machine so I bought a book about making art quilts. I adapted the techniques and made 200 textile art pieces. Fabrics became my medium. I join them together by hand or machine.”

Now in Hedley, many of Karen’s creations are deftly displayed on the walls of their home. The vivid colours suggest exuberance and ecstasy. A festive celebration of life.

The mosaic, based on the hand written poem in a library book, is more sobering. Entitled The More I Cried, The Less I Spoke, it was written by a mother whose son was killed in the Vietnam war. “I bought a soldier’s uniform, deconstructed it and made a work of art. I believe when I create art, I create a story. This re-construction of the uniform was my way of honouring the soldier and the mother. By displaying it in galleries and competitions all over Canada, I’ve made their story more widely known.”

Karen’s life experiences, including the losses, have given her a greater depth of understanding.

“The world is a chaotic mess,” she believes. “It’s important to have a piece of art that has meaning for you. This can provide tranquility.” Ken smiled and nodded his agreement.

Over the years I’ve heard plenty of speculation by Hedley oldtimers as to how Bill and Maggie Graham found the means to purchase the Colonial Inn after the mine closed. Maggie had worked as a housekeeper for the mine. Bill had operated an ore crusher in the Stamp Mill at the base of the mountain. It was generally known they had not come with money. Since none of the speculations could be verified, I decided they were a rural version of urban myth.

When I learned recently the Grahams’ daughter Maureen and her husband Campbell Dirksen live in Keremeos, I immediately called them and asked if they would talk with Linda and me.

In their comfortable home with a spectacular view of the valley and mountains, we enjoyed Maureen’s rich blend of coffee and delightful blueberry scones. We would learn she and Campbell have an impressive grasp of details from the past.

“My dad, Bill Graham came from Scotland,” Maureen told us at the outset. “Mom was born in Hedley in 1909, in the house that still stands at the corner of Daly and Irene. Her father, Anton Winkler, owned several hotels, including the Grand Union, one of 6 in town. Over the years all burned down. My parents were married in 1935.”

The Inn was purchased first by Dr. Moore, a dentist who used it for his practice. When the mine shut down operations in 1955, the miners mostly moved on. Having few clients in town, Dr. Moore sold the Inn to the Grahams about a year and a half later.

“Where did they get that amount of money?” I asked, hoping they could shed light on this local mystery.

“Dad asked the Kelowna Exploration Company for permission to clean up the dust left behind from the mining operation,” Maureen said. “He was the only one who thought there must be gold in that dust. They gave him a profit sharing contract.”

Campbell picked up the story. “With a broom and wheel barrow, he swept up the dust in the Stamp Mill. He removed the floor boards and swept under them. All told, he collected enough dust to fill 8 tram line cars. He had it sent by train from Princeton to Everett, Washington. It took 3 years.”

“It turned out there was a lot of gold in all that dust,” Maureen recalled. “Even after the mine got its share, my parents were able to buy the Inn and also send me and my brother to college in Vancouver.”

Bill and Maggie ran the Inn as a lodge and restaurant. Maureen has warm memories of working in the kitchen with her red headed, vivacious Mom. “She taught me everything I know. I baked 12 loaves of bread every day. People wanted to buy them but we needed them all. Our blueberry pies were very popular. We received letters from all over the world from satisfied guests.”

Famous people like Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, Governor Generals, and former Saskatchewan premier Tommy Douglas came by for a meal and sometimes stayed overnight.

“One time Bing Crosby said we should have a juke box. Mom teased him, saying she wouldn’t have any Bing Crosby records in it anyway. She was good with people. Very friendly and she always remembered names of guests when they returned. She often picked up hitch hikers and brought them to the restaurant and gave them a meal. Sometimes she put them up overnight.”

Eight years after buying the Inn, the Grahams also acquired the Coach House, located at the rear of the property, near the Stamp Mill. “People were removing doors and windows and other items,” Campbell said. “It required a lot of repairs.” Unfortunately in 1971, Kelowna Exploration Co. had the iconic stamp mill burned due to liability concerns.

Bill died of cancer in 1968. About 5 years later Maggie married David Pitkethly, a wealthy businessman who stopped regularly for a meal at the Colonial Inn.

In July, 1975 Maggie and Maureen were collecting rocks on a mountainside. Without warning, a large boulder broke loose above them and came hurtling down toward the two women. Without thought for her own safety, Maggie pushed Maureen out of its path. She didn’t have time to get out of the way herself and was killed instantly.

At the end of our conversation with the Dirksens, Linda and I were convinced Bill and Maggie Graham played a significant role in Similkameen history. Their story is authentic, not an urban or rural myth.

There was at one time a small cabal of disgruntled elderly men in Hedley who wanted local people to believe the One Way Adventure Foundation was a cult. I would have been interested in their reaction had they been present when Gerry and Julie Beauchemin told Linda and me about the impact of the “Foundation” on their lives.

“I’m surprised I’m alive today,” Gerry began. Sitting beside him on the couch in their Penticton home, Julie nodded and said, “I was mixing drugs and alcohol. I wanted to slowly and surely die. I hoped to escape life.”

The organization was established in Surrey in 1973 by Len and Jean Roberts, who until recently lived in Princeton. Their goal was to engage troubled teens in challenging activities, develop positive relationships and point them to a more productive life. They purchased the Hedley property to provide housing and free the youths from unhealthy city distractions and influences.

For Gerry, as with a lot of youths in care, home was not a sanctuary. “My mom died of cancer when I was 10,” he said. “Dad married a woman who had 2 kids. She didn’t like me. Her kids could do no wrong, I could do no right. Dad was away at work a lot and my life began unraveling. Pretty soon only kids with their own home problems would accept me. We stole cars and did B & E’s.”

Deeming him out of control in the community, his Probation Officer sent Gerry to the House of Concord in Langley, then to Outward Bound, at that time near Keremeos. Things didn’t improve and out of desperation Gerry was sent to the Foundation’s Surrey location. For 8 months he lived in a staff home, which he preferred over his parents’ home. He participated in the program but continued to create havoc with his street friends. “That’s why Len sent me to Hedley,” he said with just the hint of a smile.

For Julie, home was not a sanctuary either. “My dad was a problem for me,” she said. “I didn’t feel safe around him. Mom kept quiet. My brothers and I tried to poison her. I roamed the streets with a knife up my sleeve. Alcohol, and medications I stole from drug stores dulled my inner pain. When I OD’d, the Fire Department saved my life. ”

Julie’s chaotic, unruly street lifestyle prompted her harried PO to send her to Hedley. “We did rappelling, rock climbing and chimneying,” she said, “also a 2 week canoe expedition on the Bowron Lakes.”

“When I turned 17,” she continued, “my P.O. put me in the Foundation’s adult program in Surrey. I lived with Len and Jean Roberts. They became like parents to me. I still call Jean mom.”

Now Gerry nodded agreement. “When I came to Surrey for a weekend,” he recalled, “I went to Len and Jean’s place, not to my parents. From them, and from Jim, my worker in Hedley, I learned about unconditional love. They didn’t reject me when I caused trouble. I wanted to earn their trust.”

When a worker with a Black Belt began teaching karate, Gerry joined. He trained rigorously, and eventually achieved his own Black Belt.

Gerry and Julie agreed participating in challenging recreation and work projects developed their confidence. Observing positive interactions between couples and how they dealt with their children enlarged their understanding of family. “Everything really changed in a big way when I let God come into my life,” Gerry said. “It was that way for me too,” Julie added.

As young adults, they applied to enter the Foundation’s Leadership School and were accepted. In time Gerry became a creative and trusted program coordinator, respected by the youths he worked with. Julie was a leader in the girls program.

With growing maturity and an understanding they didn’t need to repeat the errors of their parents, they married in 1980. Today they have 3 daughters and 8 grandchildren, all doing well. Gerry is currently on longterm disability due to an earlier back injury. Julie has worked at Walmart since 2006.

Leaving their past behind and striving to develop into responsible, contributing citizens has been an arduous journey at times, but they have persevered. “We work at our relationship,” Gerry told us. “And we work at who we are,” Julie added. The aforementioned disgruntled cabal of elderly men might be impressed.