Farmsteads, big hearts IT WAS 1924, the fall of, and it was raining in Grande Prairie, then railhead on the Edmonton-Dunedin line. The family was on its way to Pouce Coupe (French for ‘‘Cut Thumb.” ‘There’s a story for you.) and we had now to transfer into a Ford touring number with ising-glass cur- tains. We’d be glad of those, as it rained during !unch, pre-departure. When rain falls in the Peace River country, it transforms the sich fertile soil into one of the stickiest substances known (o man. They call it “‘gumbo.”’ Because of this metamorphosis, the road which had carried the Ford to the rendezvous in five or six hours that morning, became an instant quagmire that couldn’t be conquered in less than three days for the return. We're talking pre-motel. Trav- ellers had to rely on farmsteads and big hearts. So when darkness began to fall, we felt most fortu- nate to be in sight of the sed- xoofed shack, housing an extraor- dinary family, in the one room, of mother, father and four sons, none of chem more than four feet tall, Bedrooms were immediately created with sheets hung, so their family of six took one, we four were gratefui for the other. I was littlest and got stuck in the middle slot in our bed. The rain fell all night long, and the sod, in time, overflowed, and drips settled in our ears and down our necks. Come morning we were roused early to share in the eno:- mous caulcron of family porridge on the huge cook-stove, and then plunged out into yet another wet 30 slow miles, this time to the more prosperous experimental farm at Hythe. " The adults were bedded proper. -ly in the main house, while my sister and I bunked quite literally with the cowhands. Before we slept we lay transfix- ed, peeking over the quilt, unable to take our eyes off the chap who laboriously removed his wooden Eleanor THE VINTAGE YEA leg before crawling into his bunk. It was our first viewing of such subdivision of human parts and we barely stifled our hysterics. I am regaling you with this in- credible litany because it so beautifully illustrates the permuta- tions that you and I have undergone. Sixty-eight years ago we didn’t have even a Brownie, let alone see any use for recording these events. It was how life was being lived, where we were at that time. All of this nostalgia has col- lected in iny head because of these new premises that I keep harping on. Because not only are they new premises, they are also smart, and I think of that kid growing up with an oil-drum stove, and a dentist, when you could find one, who pumped the drill with his foot, and how she would take a short cut under ihe horse’s belly to tighten the cinch for her saddle. If anyone had conjectured that in my seventy-fifth year I'd be us- ing a washing-machine that honk- ed when it had completed its job I'd have suspected him of fre- quenting rabbit-holes. The first time it did that — it’s more of a flat hard buzzer sound than a honk, I guess —~ I ran to answer the door. But the door doesn’t work that way, silly me. You push the door code, that rings my telephone. Lucky for me, when | did get a caller it was the gracery boy, who could instruct me on how to let him in. But this honk thing had me going — | went out on to the front deck, looking for a vehicle I'd recognize; | went out to the elevator looking expectant. It at last occurred to me it might be the washer — voila! And the stove! It’s got more buttons than a Guardsman, and if you get really sloppy it cleans itself up for you. The aforemen- tioned washer has a dryer compa- nion that takes the wrinkles out, and the tiled floor nearest the windows in the bedrooms is heated, to keep the glass from fogging and to teach your toes how the sybarites live. There’s a doohickey in the hall that starts up the bathroom fan if it thinks things are getting a bit swealy. What it comes down to, my dears, is that when you and I die the world will never again enjoy the spirit of contention with actual life forces. It will increasingly and forever more rely on a battery or a fuse or a micro-chip. The valuable connections with reality will all disappear with our leaving. The Ford threw in the towel about half a mile this side of where we were to be. We all took what we could in our arms and slogged the rest of the way. i DEREK A. CAVE Trial Lawyer Over 20 years experience in the trial of major injury cases ® Contingent Fees —* We handie all costs 687-0258 926-4133 FRESH SEA POOD STEAKS. aan ions 295 « 6S SAFEWAY NIGHT | 17:30 PM FRIDAY | MARCH 13, 1992 PACIFIC COLISEUM. VANCOUVER. B.C. i Tickets available at your Lower Mainland Safeway store. General Admission $6.00 plus GST. (Reguair price $7.50) Tickets vatid 7:30 pm Friday March 13 1992 only.