My husband seemed to have a gypsy nature, a restlessness that caused him always to be looking for the next thing. That is what my dad said about my grandfather; I should have recognized the symptoms. We moved many times over the years, sometimes for a new job opportunity, often just for a better living space.
In our first summer as a couple we rented a small apartment in Port Moody. I was promised a position working for the family doctor of friends. Over the course of the summer the doctor moved his practice to Coquitlam, so we moved as well; Rob already drove across the city for work. I needed to be within walking distance. We rented a tiny bachelor suite for our last few months in that sprawling city.
We lived with borrowed furniture: a bed from his college buddy’s family, a few chairs from their church basement, a small armchair that a previous tenant had placed beside the Dumpster when they drove away. That chair was the most comfortable item we had. A spare blanket covered it nicely, hiding its spots and sins until we returned it to the parking lot with the waiting bin.
We had arrived in Vancouver bringing what fit in our four-cylinder Volkswagen hatchback. My mother-in-law helped with the packing. She could fit an impressive amount in a tiny space. When we headed back to Alberta, it wasn’t arranged quite so artistically. We were able to close all the doors and to see over the accumulated pile so we were ready to head out.
Our arrival in Alberta was planned for the beginning of the new term at Bible college, on the church campus just outside of Winfield. Our new hometown was classed either as a village or perhaps a hamlet. The nearest neighbours were in Breton, or slightly farther afield we could find shopping and doctors and parks to explore in the town of Rimbey.
When we arrived we found that we had been assigned a single dwelling, a compact three-roomed house. It was quite adequate for our few needs. Mid winter another family arrived needing housing. We were able to find an off-site rental property, freeing up the little house. The new couple had three little girls, in a one-bedroom house with no running water.
I recall it being a long, hard winter, with an over-abundance of snowfall. When we left in April there was still several feet of hard-packed drifted snow in the open fields. Rob’s small dog had joined us in the larger house. Snoopy didn’t venture far from the house. We had heard reports of wolves taking newborn calves in the area.
Our little car took us to Blackfalds, just north of Red Deer. Our first rental was an older home. The bedrooms were not much larger than the size of a bed. I recall that the kitchen was old-fashioned, cramped and also had the back door and the stairs to the basement. There was a porch to hold coats and boots; a bonus to be sure. The living room was unexpected. The flooring was genuine hardwood, gleaming and gorgeous.
While at Blackfalds I accepted a job in Lacombe at the Parkland Regional Library. My position was as a typist, a summer job. Rob usually drove me to work but as he worked in Red Deer in the opposite direction, I occasionally took the Greyhound bus. The connections were good going to work, not so great for the return trip.
My job was finished the end of August. Our son was born during the first week of September. We were so naive that we didn’t even consider that things might have worked out differently. He arrived right on time, slept well and seldom complained. He made up for that later on.
He was still an infant when we moved once again, to a tiny church in Ponoka. Our son learned to crawl in that church basement where we made our home. He snacked on the dog’s treats if we weren’t vigilant and sometimes pulled Snoopy’s hair.
Somewhere I have a snapshot of Rob in the sanctuary of that church. He is seated at the piano with his son on his lap. The two of them are playing the piano, one tiny finger at a time.
It was an unexpected place to make a home but it definitely worked well until it was time to move on again.
- Hoey is a longtime Gazette columnist
