Years ago my husband completed his biblical studies in a small rural Bible college and became a qualified pastor. We moved to Blackfalds for only a few months and our first child was born while we resided there. We rented a small house for the duration. It had been moved from another location and placed on a basement and was quite an oddity. Somewhere in the construction things had gone awry. The basement was obviously too small for the equally small house it was supporting. The house protruded all around the foundation and modifications had been made to correct the defect. Our home had the appearance of a Dr. Seuss drawing, tiny, square, off balance. We lived directly across the road from the train track. When the heavily loaded freight roared through, the little structure shook and vibrated. The towels in our shoebox- sized bathroom swung on the rack. The house was a two bedroom, although that sounds far more generous than it really was. The front bedroom was hardly large enough for a bed. It held only the crib and a small dresser, a perfect fit. The closet was only about one and a half feet wide and not deep enough to hold regular-sized hangers. Our room faced the driveway, a lovely view but perhaps better than the main railroad. It was in that room that when his alarm sounded, Rob was jerked awake, leaped from bed and beat the clock into submission. On one occasion, in his stupor, he couldn't locate it and the clock bounced across the dresser and threw itself onto the floor. The floors were genuine hardwood and the result was not pretty. I had grown up with old linoleum and hardwood was new to me. We had Mom's old vacuum cleaner but its efforts were not effective. I found that beautiful old floor was a headache, requiring daily dust mopping. The kitchen doubled as the back entry and was accessed by two or three narrow steps. It also provided a stairway to the basement, a blank open spot. The kitchen held a gas stove, a fridge and minimal surface space. We seemed to specialize in homes with little cupboards to speak of. These at least had long ago been painted high gloss enamel and were washable. We actually met our next-door neighbour due to a near disaster. My husband loved to barbecue but all we could afford was the hibachi, a tiny charcoal burner, handy for taking on picnics. Rob had lit it and set it on the back step till he was ready to broil. He cooked the burgers, and then left the hibachi unattended. We were interrupted by a loud knocking and someone hollering, "Your house is on fire!" A dishpan full of water put out the smouldering, but the back stoop required a few sheets of plywood to cover the damage. My step-grandmother was visiting at the time. I think that was the last time she came to the house, although she did call now and then. Who could really blame her? Our son was born in September and we moved not long after. That neighbourhood provided us with several good memories of kind folks who weren't afraid to befriend us.
"Our son was born in September and we moved not long after. That neighbourhood provided us with several good memories of kind folks who weren't afraid to befriend us."
