A Memorable Sikh Wedding Experience

 

Last week Linda and I were once again reminded that a Sikh wedding is a joyous festival celebrating community, faith, culture, friendship, food and marriage. Like the approximately 600 guests in attendance, we were caught up by the aura of anticipation, pageantry and sense of reverence for marriage.

The invitation to the wedding came from Lucky (Lakhbir) and Santosh Farwaha, parents of Nikki, the captivatingly lovely bride. For many years the Farwahas lived across the street from my family. Sometimes late in the evening, Mom and Dad visited them. If they were having a late dinner, they always said, “come and eat with us.” In time Lucky began addressing them as Mom and Dad. The Farwahas adopted us as family and we adopted them.

It was about 9 a.m. when guests began arriving for the wedding at the Temple (Gurdwara) in Mission. The men wore mostly dark suits. The ladies with their sarees and scarves provided a delightful splash of brilliant red, yellow, green, blue. Their attire indicated to us these people consider marriage important.

Jaspar, Art & Lucky
Jaspar, Art & Lucky

In the midst of the throng gathering outside the temple, Lucky noticed us. “Sat siri akal brother,” he said. I greeted him in like manner. Linda snapped a hasty picture of me with him and his brother Jaspar. Lucky doesn’t stand still long and now he needed to rush away to greet other guests. He told me later, “we’ve had gatherings all week.” Weddings are viewed as an opportunity to see friends, party, and also bless the bride and groom.

Govind, the groom
Govind, the groom

The groom, Govind, was now waiting with several men near the Temple entrance. His gold wedding attire, turban, pointed gold shoes, and ceremonial sword gave the appearance of nobility. An exuberant four man band in uniform was approaching, followed by dancers. This was the Barat, a wedding procession of the groom’s friends and family.

3 Band Members
3 Band Members

The bride, in an ornate gold and red dress, and her family came from inside the temple to formally meet the groom and his family. Following this ceremony, everyone entered a spacious dining hall with tables and chairs. People were forming lines to where treats, juice and Indian tea were set out. A helpful lady informed Linda she should join the line of women. I went with the men.

Nikki, the bride & her mother, Santosh
Nikki, the bride & her mother, Santosh

After refreshments, we made our way to the main meeting hall. As required, Linda and I covered our heads and removed our shoes. An elderly man explained to me this is an act of reverence for the Sikh Holy Book.

In the meeting hall women sat on one side of the aisle, men on the other. Before sitting down, many guests walked reverently to the front to bow before the Holy Book. We sat cross legged on a carpeted floor. There were no chairs.

 

The priest obligingly poses for a photo
The priest obligingly poses for a photo

After singing by several men, the priest, a tall lean man clad in white and wearing a black turban, addressed the bride and groom in Punjabi. He then read four Laavs (verses of a hymn). The words, emphasizing Sikh values and faith, were displayed in English on an overhead monitor. After each Laav, the bride walked around the Holy Book, following the Groom. In this she was accompanied first by her sister Sandy. At prescribed points, others took turns walking with her. It was a show of family support and solidarity. Upon completing this ritual, Nikki and Govind were husband and wife. Once again there was singing, counsel and prayer.

Govind & Nikki, now husband & wife
Govind & Nikki, now husband & wife

MP Jinny Sim then spoke in English. “Go to the PNE and ride on the roller coaster,” she advised Nikki and Govind. “You’ll find married life is much like the ups and downs of the roller coaster experience”.

To mark the end of the ceremony, several men then walked among the guests, distributing Karah Prashad, a sweet sacramental pudding. A reception and sumptuous Punjabi meal followed. Lucky and Santosh had spared no expense to provide a marriage experience Nikki and Govind would treasure.

Govind & Nikki, with supportive family & friends
Govind & Nikki, with supportive family & friends

Later, on our drive back to Hedley, Linda and I agreed the wedding had been a pleasing intertwining of Sikh faith, community, culture and values. For Nikki and Govind, the rich experience will provide lasting memories, an undergirding for a lifelong relationship. They will continue to receive support from their community, something that would be of benefit to every marriage and every family in our country.

Brandon’s Special Gift

Troy, Grampa Axel & Brandon
Troy, Grampa Axel & Brandon

When we celebrated Brandon’s 16th birthday at the end of June, the major event was the presentation of a gift by his other grandfather. Grampa Axel, now in his early 80’s, has always been pretty generous toward both Brandon and Alexa. When one has a birthday, the other receives a gift as well.

On this day, Grampa Axel didn’t arrive in his Dorango as usual. He owns 3 classic cars, all Chryslers, but rarely drives them, certainly never in rain. For this reason I was surprised when he pulled up in his immaculate green, 1966 Chrysler. The car has been meticulously maintained and cared for. Except for an occasional road trip to Manitoba, it has spent most of its life in a garage, along with the other two classics.

On this day, Grampa Axel backed the Chrysler carefully onto the front lawn and parked near the entrance of the house. The vehicle has an enormous trunk and I quickly concluded it must contain a large, very special gift. A gift too heavy to carry far. Cars aren’t usually permitted on the lawn, but he obviously believed the indiscretion would be overlooked this time.

I waited with considerable anticipation for Grampa Axel to open the trunk. I was disappointed and at least a little mystified when he got out and walked to the front door of the house, as though nothing of consequence was happening. Apparently I was the only one curious about what the trunk contained. No one asked why he had parked there or why he didn’t open the trunk.

From a conversation I overheard a little later between our daughter Vivian, son-in-law Troy, and Alexa and Brandon, I began to understand that they already knew what the very special gift in the trunk was. Actually, the gift was not in the trunk. The gift was the car.

“I had the entire brake system re-done,” Grampa Axel told us. “It cost me $2,000.” He wouldn’t give his grandson an unsafe car.

Brandon has just applied for his driver’s licence and has an “N”. Unlike most youths his age, he now possesses 2 cars. The other car is a 1981 Camero, given to him by Mike, the next door neighbour. He apparently is a magnet for cars. Or maybe it’s just that people like him and want to do something that will make him happy.

Brandon and his dad have devoted several months to restoring the Camero. It definitely isn’t in the extraordinary condition of the Chrysler. Mike has a gregarious, over powering personality that leans more to fast driving, with little attention to the vehicle’s upkeep. Both cars have powerful engines. Fortunately Brandon has demonstrated exceptionally sound judgment to this time. Although some friends will likely attempt to persuade him to speed or engage in other foolishness with his cars, Linda and I feel he is strong enough to resist much of this.

The Chrysler is monstrously large, not the type of car a young man would readily choose. I sensed though that Brandon understands the depth of this gesture by Grampa Axel. He knows his grandfather has long prized the Chrysler, and that for him it is no ordinary car. I observed them talking and saw Brandon several times put an arm around Grampa Axel.

He understands that in Grampa Axel’s mind, the car is like a precious heirloom. He is passing it on to a responsible member of a younger generation, in the hope it will continue to be cared for and preserved. He knows, of course, that it won’t be stored in a garage. No, he hopes Brandon will drive the car and enjoy it. The Chrysler is a gift given with a lot of forethought and a great measure of love.

The “Poker Game”

Poker by IvicaM90 @ Pixabay
Poker by IvicaM90 @ Pixabay

I knew attempting to persuade Howie Smith to do anything was a lot like playing poker with a professional gambler. Before being sent to our camp in Hedley, he’d been in foster homes and group homes. Although only 15, he had decided that every worker’s goal was to change him. He had become adept at resisting change. His goal was to one day be sentenced to Matsqui Institution, a federal penitentiary where he’d heard his Dad was doing time.

On this July day, with the temperature in the high 30’s, a one inch thick steak placed on the hood of a car would have broiled in minutes. As I walked toward the Lodge where our students ate lunch, I felt certain Howie would be waiting. His group was planning to swim in the Similkameen River. Howie though, was assigned to kitchen duty in the Lodge today and I knew he’d resist this tenaciously. I knew also the others would be keen observers as he argued his case. If Howie contrived to avoid kitchen duty they would employ his tactics when they wished to avoid an assignment. As program coordinator, the weight of this fell on me.

The Probation Officer’s background notes indicated no one had been able to control Howie to this time – not his mother, the school
system, the probation officer, or the police.

He was too smart, focused and stubborn to be bribed. Too tough to feel threatened. And seemingly too insulated, at least to this time, to respond to love.

Walking briskly along the path to the Lodge, Howie and the others came into view. They had finished lunch and were lounging languidly around the picnic tables under the tall pines, trying to escape the intense Hedley heat. Their equally over-heated leaders were talking quietly at another table.

Howie’s white kitchen garb contrasted sharply with his shiny black hair and dark skin. I plunked myself down on a table top and, as I had anticipated, he detached himself from the little group and parked himself resolutely in front of me. Feet spread apart and arms folded across his chest, it seemed he wanted to intimidate me. Like most students, he had arrived here already a committed smoker. Without shifting his intent gaze from my face, he inhaled deeply from his cigarette, gathering courage. He knew I wouldn’t roll over easily.

“I need to talk to ya!” he said, a distinct note of challenge already in his voice.

“Yes Howie, that’s why l came.”

For a moment my response disconcerted him. Then, jerking his head toward the Lodge, he said “I don’t want to go back in there. Everyone’s going swimming in the river.”

Aware an attempt to persuade him would be frustrating and a waste of time for us both, I decided to take a calculated risk.

“Howie,” I said.
“Ya.”
“If your dad was here, I think there’s something he’d really want to say to you.”

His eyes widened perceptibly. I was playing an unexpected card.

I had his attention, but, not wanting to be conned, he silently scrutinized me with great intensity. After an uncomfortable silence, I said quietly, “Howie, do you want to know what your dad would say?”

Brushing a fly from his arm, he relented. “Ya,” he said, “I do.”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, I lowered my voice and spoke as though to my own son. “Howie, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. The one I regret most is walking away from the family. If I had been there when you needed me, your life would have been better.’’

A single tear trickled down Howie’s cheek. I continued, “Son, I always turned from the hard things. Never got strong. When I grew up, I was afraid. Don’t be like me. The hard stuff will make you strong. For you there’s still time.” I paused, then said, “Howie, I haven’t told you this before, but I really do love you.”

Howie’s shoulder’s twitched involuntarily, as though the words had touched his soul. There was a straightening of the shoulders, an almost imperceptible nod.

“Thanks,” he said, then turned and walked back into the Lodge.

You could say Howie lost the poker game, but I’m pretty sure if you’d asked him, he would have said, “I won big.”

Homeopathic Medicine Against Cancer

Shirley & TJ at the Hedley Community Club fundraiser
Shirley & TJ at the Hedley Community Club fundraiser

Shirley Hardy was given her first diagnosis of cancer 15 years ago. Presently she is battling it for the third time. She has endured both chemotherapy and radiation. “I don’t want any more of that,” she said. Her doctor has told her it is inoperable and would like to give her his estimate of the time she has left.

Shirley is a fighter, though, and is focusing her thoughts on staying alive and becoming healthy again. Talking about this significant health challenge she smiled and said, “I’ve tried what doctors have to offer. Now I’m putting my hope in homeopathic medicine.” On Sunday the Hedley Community Club served a delicious brunch as part of a fund raiser to help Shirley pay for the homeopathic approach. Anyone looking for a good cause to support can contact T.J. Bratt at the Hedley Country Market. Ph. 250-292-8600.

O Canada, We Stand On Guard For Thee

Canadian flag, blowing in the wind
Canadian flag, blowing in the wind

This week, when we sing “O Canada, we stand on guard for thee,” will it be with a comprehension that at times we must defend our system of government against those we have elected? I fear we have become overly complacent about our democracy, at every level of government.

We seem not to consider that early reformers worked unstintingly to attain what we have today. And we give little thought to the possibility it can be eroded by insidious forces if we become too preoccupied to observe what is happening. If my perspective seems negative at a time when we celebrate our nation, I suggest we take a careful look at what I believe is a too cozy relationship between the BC government and the giant pharmaceutical companies.

The provincial government’s arbitrary firing of 8 Ministry of Health researchers is strikingly similar to the manner in which this land was ruled before it became a nation. At that time the Governor and his appointed Council determined who received land and timber rights. Usually it was the wealthy friends of the oligarchy. The Governor and Council made all financial decisions, without permission from the people. Even after the Constitutional Act of 1791, any laws passed by the Elected Assembly could be vetoed.

When Canada was granted a Senate in 1867, its original purpose was to allow Canada’s wealthy elite to veto any legislation passed by the politicians representing the common people. Almost without exception, those in power at every level want to retain the privileges of power for their inner group. This enables them to reward those who help them hold on to their positions of influence.

The provincial government’s decisions concerning research in the pharmaceutical industry are reminiscent of a time when significant favours went to wealthy, influential speculators.

In 2012, when the government fired the researchers, it apparently didn’t occur to anyone that Roderick MacIsaac, one of the eight, would commit suicide and bring huge media scrutiny. With pointed questions, reporters began dredging up embarrassing, highly disconcerting facts concerning the possible motivation behind this decision.

In thetyee.ca, Andrew MacLeod revealed that “the researcher who committed suicide was developing a way to evaluate a project that was one of Premier Christy Clark’s pet initiatives.” It entailed the utilization of Champix, a smoking cessation drug. The Tyee reported that both Health Canada and the American FDA had issued warnings about Champix. Also, according to Colleen Fuller, Chair of PharmaWatch, other countries were removing Champix from the market at the time the B.C. government decided to list it under PharmaCare.

The Vancouver Sun learned through a Freedom of Information request that “police were never given evidence by the government to investigate the wrongdoing which was used to justify the firings, despite the government telling the public an investigation was ongoing.” The police actually closed the file due to lack of information.

Just as in the early years of our nation when the Governor and Council favoured wealthy friends, the provincial government appears to be favouring large corporations, from which they have received huge infusions of cash. Media reports indicate major pharmaceutical companies have given the Liberals tens of thousands of dollars in recent years.

The fired researchers had been delving into areas that were troubling for the pharmaceutical companies. Were the ill conceived firings the government’s manner of appeasing the multinational pharmaceuticals and thanking them for their substantial campaign contributions?

And what was the motivation behind the government’s 2012 suspension of funding for UBC’s Therapeutics Initiative research contracts? TI provides practical, evidence based prescription drug information to physicians and pharmacists. The program has saved Canada hundreds of millions and prevented many deaths from inappropriate prescriptions.

Only a massive media storm and public outcry persuaded the government to restore fifty per cent of the funding. Was our government so desperate to endear itself to the drug companies that it was willing to penalize its own citizens?

In “The March of Folly”, Barbara Tuchman suggests “the problem may not be so much a matter of educating officials of government, as educating the electorate to recognize and reward integrity of character.”

Retaining power has become a primary motivation of some in government. This makes them susceptible to the allurements of large corporate contributions.

“O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.”

Watch For This Awesome Coupe

My neighbour Dwight (better known locally as Whitey) has recently finished rebuilding a 1928 Chrysler coupe. When Linda and I first saw the vehicle in Leroy’s shop, it was still very much in the early phase of its restoration. Leroy is a friend of Dwight and a gifted builder of hot rods. (Some time ago I wrote about him and posted a photo of his 1936 Ford pickup. You can find the post under People.) The body of the Chrysler was pulled out of the Vancouver Dump. Leroy bought it and found a frame for it in the bush, somewhere along a side road.

Leroy and the vehicle in its early stage
Leroy and the vehicle in its early stage

Dwight has done much of the work on the coupe himself, but he credits Leroy with the creativity, meticulous attention to detail and high skill level that has helped him restore this former derelict and make it a trophy car. The 1979 Chev motor is a 350. In a small, very light car, that’s a lot of power.

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I asked Dwight about taking a picture of him and the car. He said, “can Kilo be on the picture?” A young pitbull, Kilo is a recent addition to his collection of friends and toys. I agreed willingly and suggested he bring a chair and a cup of coffee. The coffee idea didn’t resonate with him. “I’ll bring a can of beer,” he countered.

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Well, here he and Kilo are, at the intersection of two streets in Hedley. We agreed that one day we’ll do this on Scott Avenue, Hedley’s main street, in the heart of the commercial section. The commercial section of Hedley consists largely of the Hedley Country Market, The Hitching Post restaurant, the Post Office and the Hedley Inn & Hostel.

Watch for this little coupe on the highway this summer, but don’t make the mistake of trying to keep up with it.

MLA Linda Larson “Off Stage”

 

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My purpose in meeting with MLA Linda Larson was to get a glimpse of who she is off the “political stage.” Having a slice of my wife’s home made brown bread with cheese, she appeared relaxed as she spoke about her early years and present political life.

“In my childhood, mom struggled to put food on the table,” she said. “She baked bread. We had butter every 2 to 3 months. Other kids at school wore store bought clothes. My mom made mine.” She now values this experience, believing it gives her greater understanding in her role as Parliamentary Secretary for Accessibility. “You have to have struggled to understand people who are struggling.”

Linda met her husband when he came into the store in Powell River where she was a sales clerk. After marriage in 1970 they lived in several locations, then moved to Oliver in 1989. Commenting on their daughters, Marnie, Lynnet and Donna. she said, “In their teens, the girls were a handful,” she recalled with just the trace of a smile. “Sometimes I didn’t think I would live. But they’re all doing well. They’ve given me four grandchildren.”

For 6 years she was a stay at home mom and her husband, a Mountie, initially earned only $350 per month. Finances were tight. Their first home was a mobile, bought for $7000. Her grandfather gave them $1000 to make this possible. In spite of present success, Linda has not forgotten what it’s like to raise a family on a meagre income.

She became an Airline Attendant with Pacific Airlines, working out of Vancouver. She also managed a large territory for Avon. “For nearly 6 months my husband was very ill. It was important for me to have an income.”

In time she and her husband acquired a small business, Eastside Grocery, in Oliver. “It was long hours, seven days a week.” When she became aware of unsettling decisions and practices at City Hall, she decided to let her name stand for Council in 1996. Before the election she was persuaded to run instead for the position of Mayor. “I didn’t have a clue about being mayor,” she admits, smiling. “I was totally amazed when I was elected.” Now she enjoys the memory of “the fabulous people I met. I got to attend 100 year birthday celebrations.” Another smile. Her 9 years in the Mayor’s chair evidently convinced a lot of people she would represent them well in the provincial legislature.

She values the various earlier roles because they gave her experience with people. Looking back reflectively, she paused, then said, “everything I did prepared me for what I’m doing now.”

In the realm of politics, she is pleased with the number of women her party has attracted. “We’ve made huge strides in that. I’d like to see us find more effective ways of also encouraging young people to participate in politics.”

When I asked what is satisfying, she replied, “I enjoy meeting with small groups, like the coffee time at the Hedley Seniors’ Centre this morning.” She had arrived there at 7 a.m.

The annual prayer breakfast is also a positive for her and she appreciates the encouraging notes that follow. “Meeting people is one of the nicest things I do.” The small wins that help individuals and communities provide a sense of accomplishment. The installation of a sidewalk in Kaleden is an example.

Experience has convinced Linda most people are positive and constructive. However, a note of regret crept into her voice. “Unfortunately, the negative ones are noisy. Some attack me personally. It’s harder to stay on track then. I don’t respond to them. It only perpetuates their destructiveness.”

Linda spends about 6 months in Victoria, coming home Thursday evening and returning Sunday night. She says her husband makes her schedule possible. “My mom has lived with us 12 years. She is 94 and is falling more,” she said. “When I’m away he takes her to appointments and prepares her evening meal. Tonight I’ll take her out for dinner. I couldn’t do what I’m doing without my husband’s help.”

In this “off stage” conversation, I found Linda Larson to be surprisingly candid and compassionate. I hope the often harsh world of politics will permit her to speak and vote according to the sound values I believe she exemplifies.

A Relationship Adventure With Dad

My Dad grew up on a remote, infertile Manitoba farm. During the Great Depression of the 1930’s, his father had difficulty feeding and clothing a wife and 9 children. Their soul wrenching poverty didn’t encourage expressing thoughts such as “I love you.” When Dad fell at age 89 and broke a hip, he required the assistance available only in a longterm care facility. It was the beginning of a relationship adventure for him and me.

Dad on front-end loader - Copy

In my early years, Dad worked as a logger in the steep mountainous terrain back of Hope. Strong, skilled and rugged, he was away 2 weeks at a time and I didn’t get to know him well. Eventually he brought his big bulldozer back to the Fraser Valley. Then, in summer he took me along to his jobs and taught me to operate the dozer, front end loader and backhoe, use a chain saw and blow huge stumps out of the ground with dynamite. Although this wasn’t what I wanted for a career, it provided an opportunity to know and respect Dad.

He enjoyed music and played the violin. I was about 8 when he bought a 12 bass accordion for me, then later upgraded it to a 120 bass. He hoped I would make music with him. I didn’t share his enthusiasm for music though and when I moved out of the family home, I left the accordion and the music behind.

In mid-life, Dad bought a bass fiddle and joined a seniors’ orchestra. Years later, just prior to his life altering fall, he bought a cello and taught himself to play it.

When he fell, his head struck the floor hard and erased his memory of music. For two years my white haired Dad spent many hours, hunched over in his wheelchair, awkwardly grasping the instrument in a futile attempt to revive his skill. When I engaged a cello instructor to teach him, Dad devoted hours to practising. In his many sleepless nights, he mentally rehearsed musical scales.

Making music with his children was what Dad had dreamed of from the beginning. Now he needed someone to play with so I sat down at the piano in the common area and began to apply what I’d learned on the accordion. It wasn’t pretty, but I learned a few tunes. Each time I came in he’d say, “let’s go to the piano.”

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We learned old time songs like “You’re Cheatin’ Heart,” “You are my Sunshine,” and “The Tennessee Waltz.” He had a deep faith in God, as did some of the residents, so we included such numbers as “The Old Rugged Cross” and “Amazing Grace.” Some residents drew close to us in their wheelchairs. Others quietly sang or tapped fingers on a table. At the end they applauded with their frail aged hands.

In time, holding the cello became difficult and Dad wearied more rapidly. His strong, rugged face could no longer hide the pain. Even when he grew too weak to hold the cello, he continued to say, “let’s go to the piano.”

Several nurses counselled me to tell Dad it’s ok to die. I did tell him if he chose to let go, the family would be ok. He fixed his clear blue eyes on me and said, “I still like to live.”

This reminded me of a time when I watched him on the big bulldozer, cutting in a road along the side of a steep ravine. A mistake would have sent him and his machine hurtling down. Now, white haired and no longer able to even get in or out of bed without assistance, this was just another difficult challenge. As long as he had music and his faith in God, his life had meaning.

When he was no longer strong enough to sit in his chair, I stood beside his bed, holding his hand. Sometimes, when the pain in his beleaguered body caused him to twitch and groan, I turned away, knowing my tears would trouble him.

One day, overcome by his helplessness and discomfort, I took his big hand and said, “I love you Dad.” He fixed those blue eyes on me and quietly said, “I love you too.”

One night, in his 95th year, the phone rang at 5:05 a.m. A nurse said, “your father has just passed away.” I was deeply saddened, but comforted by the thought that we had learned to say “I love you.”

Hedley Heritage Ladies Promote Past

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The Hedley Heritage Ladies are re-enacting a common scene from the community’s gold mining past. They are having tea in front of one of the historic log structures at the Hedley Museum. On Sunday, June 21, 2015 (9:00 am to 1:00 pm) they will be at the Hedley Farmers’ Market and Sunday Fair, located across from the main Museum building near Highway 3. They will visit other events in the Similkameen Valley in the coming months.

It is their desire to create interest in Hedley’s colourful characters and rich gold strikes during the boom town years. They also hope to draw attention to the often unrecognized roles of women in the past. From left to right they are Peggy Terry, Lydia Sawicki, Ruth Woodin and Lynn Wells.

Hedley Heritage Ladies in front of the historic Hedley Grace Church
Hedley Heritage Ladies in front of the historic Hedley Grace Church

 

Hedley Heritage Ladies draw attention to new Museum sign in the background
Hedley Heritage Ladies draw attention to new Museum sign in the background

Hedley Bottle Drive a Marathon Event

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The recent Hedley Bottle Drive was a marathon event requiring great mental tenacity and physical endurance. Twenty-one volunteers worked tirelessly in the blistering sun at the front of the Fire Hall or battled pitiless, marauding no-see-ums inside. Sponsored by the Hedley Grace Church, bottle drives have been staged for a number of years for the purpose of sending local children and youth to Camp Tulahead, located on Highway 5A. Usually they are held in both spring and fall, but last year the one in fall was cancelled. This was the reason for the intimidating mound of cans and bottles in front of the Fire Hall and for the longer sorting time.

“Some people in the community contribute bottles and cans throughout the year to support what we are doing,” Pastor Graham Gore said. “They consider it a worthy cause.”

Last year the church sent 14 children and teens to camp. The bottle drive doesn’t cover the full cost of $600 per child. “Contributions from people in the church make up the difference,” Pastor Gore said. “ Sometimes parents and others in the community also give money for this. We’ve never denied anyone the opportunity of going to camp.” To this time they have 9 registrations for this summer’s camp.

Pastor Gore expressed appreciation for the help of volunteers, some of whom are not connected to the church. Among those representing community organizations were Doug and TJ Bratt of the Community Club and the Country Market. They showed up with their son Jake and two grand daughters. Doug also brought 2 cases of pop. Beryl Wallace, president of the Seniors’ Centre and an attendee of the church came. Linda Martens, vice president of the Hedley Museum Society was there. Dave Peers, Fire Fighter and a Trustee of the Hedley Improvement District ,volunteered his time and energy. Angelique Wood, currently on leave from the fire department and the local, federal NDP candidate, also helped. Lynn McKay, a member of several organizations, worked tirelessly as in past years. Also Steve, a senior who just wanted to do something for the community. Six teens participated. Julie, who was on duty at the Country Market, paid for apples and bananas to give workers a boost of energy.

Doug Nimchuk, representing the Fire Department and the church, was event organizer. His duties kept him there from before 9 am until 7:00 pm. Peggy Terry, a church attendee, looks after the financial matters.

At the end of the bottle drive there were weary backs and sore feet. The thoughts and emotions though, were positive. One teen summed up what most volunteers were probably thinking when she said, “this is the most satisfying day I’ve had in a long time.” When people work together, good things get done.

A small town perspective on people, community, politics and environment.