Friends & Neighbours!

"When a friend calls to me from the road
.....I don't stand still....and shout, "What is it?"
No... I go up to the stone wall for a friendly visit."

Robert Frost

That's Bud and his toy poodle Willie in the picture above. I met Willie first when he came running out for attention; Bud followed close behind. Willie is a great little dog; he neither yaps, snaps, nor jumps up, but still manages to soak up all the affection that a person can spare. Bud crushes cars for a living; it's a mobile job that takes him from Vancouver to the territories, and even here to Calgary upon occasion. "That sounds like a great life," I enthuse. Bud's slow to agree with that statement, but he will admit that its 'good money'. His wife travels with him, and it was for her that he bought Willie; he explains that his wife, like many of us in this general age group, suffers from medical complications, and that Willie is her stalwart companion. The little dog loves to run and play, as is common with an eight month puppy, but, when Buds wife is indisposed, and can't leave her bed, Willie remains at her side constantly; the perfect companion while Bud is forced to spend long hours away from home due to the demands of his job.

It's a very eclectic group here in Mountain View RV park. On the site to my immediate right is a frowsy Coachman with all it's windows permanently draped as if to perpetually discourage even the slightest invasion of privacy and personel space. It is the domicile of two great sets of tattoos, draped lavishly accross the healthy, young bodies of two completely shaven domed young men. I've never talked to them, they always seem earnestly in a hurry, and don't make eye contact. They seem to keep irregular, erratic hours, coming and going at all times of day or night with no pattern that I can discern. Unlike them, I keep my drapes open all the time, and I imagine that they assume I'm a 'nark' of some kind, sitting here as I do, typing out reports. I'll look forward to talking to them if and when.

To my left is a decrepit little travel trailer, which has seen better years, but, not recently; it too is curtained at all hours of the day and night, and as I sit outside to barbecue, I'm constantly the recipient of loud, and unwanted, television chatter. It is home to a young couple whom I've as yet to meet. The lady seems to be there all the time, and I've only seen her outside briefly. The young man I see leaving early in the morning, before 7:00, and often not returning till the same time or later in the evening. I imagine that their trailer cost them only a couple thousand dollars, or perhaps was a gift of the more dubious variety, but, as is so commonly seen here in Alberta, the young fellow drives a brand new, very expensive truck. Other than the TV, I never hear a peep from them.

James, and his wife are a nice couple I met a couple days ago; they live just down at the end of my row, and have been here for a couple of months. James is just recovering from three weeks in a Calgary hospital, and gets around now on crutches. They are both definitly of retirement age, and I enquire as to where they might be from. "Just outside Antigonish Nova Scotia", comes the quick reply. "That's a pretty long drive," I observe, wondering what might have compelled them forward on this odyssy. "We first came here 25 years ago to find work," James informs me, admitting that it is a long drive, "And we've driven back and forth every year since." "Last year we retired, and returned to Nova Scotia to settle again in Antigonish," he explains, "but just one year proved that we couldn't live without the kids and grandkids." So now they've returned to the West, and will spend their retirement years here, and, as long as their health holds up, make that long drive back East every year, to visit friends and realitives. Upon learning my name, James informs me that he, "is from the same community as Peter Mackay," adding quickly that dosn't know him directly, but is quite familiar with the whole family. "It is very interesting," he says, "to observe how a man behaves in private life, and whether he behaves the same when he attains public office. He dosn't expand on this last comment, but, from his tone, I believe that, in his eyes at least, Peter passed the test unscathed. I admit that I haven't seen much of Mr. Mackay that I would criticise, well ....with the possible exception of his escapade with Belinda, but hastilly point out that you can't hold that against the man; many of us Mackay's fall into romantic foibles in our youth!

On Monday evening I met a lovely couple from Montreal origionally; he began his carreer as an engineer, and then took theology courses untill he had the accreditation to work in the ministry. At the age of 16, (and you must know that both John and Laurel are in their early 80's), He had come West on one of the government sponsered, "Harvest Trains", looking for employment, and adventure; He said that the work nearly killed him, as he was a city boy, and that he had nothing but admiration, for the Native youth he worked alongside in the huge prarie fields. "They could do eveything," he enthused, "harness the horses, drive the loads, and made the manual labour look so easy!" James assured me that he is, and always has been, "an ardent Canadian!"; that 42 years ago he had told Laurel that, "If we stay in Montreal, that's all of Canada we'll ever see!", so, with four young boys to raise, John applied for a Church position in Calgary, was accepted for a two year tenure, and have never looked back.

Laurel is the auther of four books dealing with life in Canada, and exploring her Irish roots. One book deals with life on a small Quebec farm, where she was raised till the age of five, when the depression forced them off the farm, and they took up resdency in Montreal; it's drawn from stories handed down to her by her immigrant parents. The second details life in Montreal during the depression, and through the years of WW2. In the third she explores her Irish roots, and over the years she and John spent a lot of time in Ireland, looking at the whole country, but especially the small village from which her parents emmigrated. They, too, return to Montreal every year, but assure me that they are Calgarians now, entirely; their four sons all met and married cowgirls, and three of them still live within a few blocks of where John and Laurel first bought a home, and where they still live. Their only criticism of Calgary is that it is getting too large, too fast, and subsequently losing it's sense of community. I agree with them on that point, but assure them that I still see here a lot of what I would call 'community', from my memories, of the Ontario I knew while growing up, than exists in Ontario today. Very nice people, and, with their warmth and enthusiasm, they may well become my second favorite Canadian couple.

Also this week I met a very nice couple from India; she trained as a nurse, and he with a education in agriculture, with two lovely daughters aged 5 and 8. They tell me that they had origionally intended to settle in Canada, but were informed that Calgary was the place of opportunity, so came here instead. They have been here just a month, and are a little overwhelmed by the cost of housing; I sympathise with them on that point, and point out that many Canadians, even those here in Calgary, feel just the same on the matter. He tells me that he is a little disappointed that there are so few openings in his field of agriculture, but adds that he has already found part-time employment as counter staff in a convenience store. I congratulate him and point out that he's doing better, so far, than I am, seeing that we've both been here about the same length of time. A nice couple, and I'm sure that they will do very well. Sometimes I get feeling a little overwhelmed by the changes in my life because of this transition to Calgary, but when I compare it to those faced by these polite young immigrants, they seem small indeed.

Well, that's the 'Trailer Park' update for today. It's the long weekend now, and I'll let you know what transpires. I can report one recent improvment in my life, and that is, I now have limited access to my porcellin. I'm not using the fresh water tank yet, as they are still indicating the possibility of snow at the first of the week, but I can now sit at my leisure, without having to search for a coffee shop, or a secluded bush! After all, a man's mobile home is his castle; it just seems so right to be able, once again, to ascend the throne!

James, (The 'B' is for 'Bubbles') Mackay