Have you ever lived in a place, or has there ever been a time in your life when you felt totally grounded? You know that feeling of belonging, when everything is humming YOUR tune? Everyone is supportive, and even if there are those who aren’t singing your song, you are strong enough to carry the main chorus line and belt out the words, even if you are a bit off key?
Isn’t it a great place to be?
It’s feels like coming home.
It’s like knowing this was the place you were meant to be.
I recently was fortunate to be able to return to what I call my home town. It wasn’t a place where I was born, nor was it a place where I lived for many years. And in the scope of my life, I was only there for a brief moment in time. Those five years, from when I was twelve to almost eighteen, were long enough for me to know I had found my place in the world.
After my father was killed in a company truck accident on the Hope/Princeton highway when I was five years old, life as I knew it was shattered. The next year my mother moved my next oldest sister and I to the nearby, larger community of Chilliwack. We left behind my other two older sisters. One was finishing high school and the oldest, was starting her banking career with the Bank of Montreal in Hope.
My memories of our time in Chilliwack were dark and lonely. I felt lost and was desperately trying to find my footing in the world. Nothing about my new community or the people in it made me feel safe or secure. I tried to fit in by joining our church choir and making some neighbourhood friends, but it never felt like home. Thankfully, that depressing time of my childhood ended six years later, when my mom married my step dad, “Bud,” (John Ray Finch who was a Customs Officer) and we started our new life together in the small town of Creston, where Bud had been transferred with the Federal Government.
Creston, is a small, quaint town (at the time the population was well under 5,000 people) located in the South Eastern corner of British Columbia in the Kootenay region, nestled between the towering Purcell and Selkirk mountain ranges. When we moved there, I’m sure there were only a few traffic lights through main street and everyone stopped to visit at the downtown post office to catch up on the latest happenings. It was the kind of place that when you moved into a neighbourhood in the morning, by dinner time, most of the town folk knew your story better than you did yourself.
The thing I loved about it best, was when there was a tragedy, the whole town came together to deal with whatever crisis was afoot. This coming together was the strong backbone of Creston. Early in it’s history, as the town’s economy grew, the criminal element arrived, but in October 1925, when two men attempted to rob the Imperial Bank of Canada, the entire community, including school children, banded together to capture the robbers and half of the stolen money.
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| Capturing a bit of the farm land as we drove into town….see the blue flax flowers next to the cement barrier |
That kind of strong community caring was the heart of Creston then and now.
When a new baby was born, the whole town rejoiced and when one of Creston’s own passed away, the whole town grieved. It was a place where everyone was connected (many were related!) and each person made a difference in the lives of others.
What made everything even more perfect, at least for me, was the historic old character home we purchased at the top of the hill on 11th Avenue. As soon as I walked around the beautifully landscaped 1/2 acre property, with curving driveway, I knew I had found my place in the world. Swinging high on the large wooden swing, centered between two tall elm trees at the back of the property, it felt like the house was welcoming me home.
The house had been built around 1910 and retained the charm of formality and distinction of the era. After having shared a small house with my mom and older sister J in Chilliwack, I happily settled into this grand house and luxuriated in my huge upstairs bedroom that had views out to the garden from two sides. My mom decorated my room in cool floral purple and greens, popular in the 70’s and. I covered my walls with posters that would light up above my glowing black light. My favourite poster was one of the cartoonist’s, Charles Schulz’s dog, “Snoopy,” dancing with his nose in the air, surrounded by flowers and the sentiment under his feet was, “Feeling Groovy.”
This idyllic time in my life was shared by my contented, newlywed parents, who settled easily into this small town life and quickly became a piece of the fabric, in the old fashion quilt that made up Creston. Our home was always a social hub full of friends and visiting family, who shared in our joy and laughter. My step dad Bud used to look at me with twinkling eyes, wiggling his ears and say, “making memories,” when we were in the midst of a fun occasion.
Sadly, after 5 brief years, my step dad decided to apply for a position in the Okanagan Valley, (he had commuted to the border at Kingsgate crossing for us to live in Creston all that time and was tired of spending so much time on the road) and we sold our beautiful old home.Mom and I cried as we were packing as she too knew it had been a healing gift in our lives. My parents moved and started the next chapter of their lives with an empty nest and I stayed back in Creston to complete the latter half of grade 12. After that, since there were few opportunities for work, I moved with my girl friend Karen in her little Volkswagon bug, and we planned to seek our fortune in Calgary. It was there, that I met my husband David, and well, that is a total other story all together.
David and I have lived in many locations since then but I have never found a community or experienced a time in my life when I felt like I was living in a Norman Rockwell painting. Or at least that was my perspective, BEFORE returning to Creston. Deciding to attend my 40th grad reunion was mixed with varying emotions. The main one was that we still have young children and had to make arrangements for their care but we also had many big family events leading right up to the first long weekend in July and I didn’t know if I was going to be up to leaving the family.
Our son Harrison graduated from his high school in mid June and then there were year end music concerts, a grade 8 piano exam for our fourteen year old daughter Grace Elizabeth, a ballet recital for our youngest daughters, Kathryn and Victoria and our youngest son, William, turned eight years old on June 25th, the weekend before the reunion. Life was really busy right up until the end of the month. Add to all of this, my cool gardening gig didn’t end until mid month and I had a ton to do in my own garden….notice I haven’t blogged for ages! I went back and forth whether I would attend, then one day my husband David said, “Lee, you are going to regret it if you don’t go so contact them and tell them your coming.” With that support I made a commitment to attend the reunion.
You never know when you are going to walk through another door/gate, what you will find and what insights will be yours.
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| This is a picture of the gate house at the back of our old home in Creston….a wrought iron fence circles the whole property now with big stone pillars. |
So with tearful goodbyes from our little ones, we headed out early on June 30th for Creston. As soon as we arrived in my little hometown and I saw the two large, now paint faded grain elevators, I knew I was home. Memories of poignant times and the people I shared those experiences with came flooding back to me as we slowly drove down main street, almost as if no time had transpired since I had left 40 years earlier.
David and I spent a bit of time driving around town seeing the new sights but really not much had changed. I was thrilled to find the Ramada hotel where we had booked was new and modern. It was on the outskirts of town where we used to board our horses and while looking out the hotel window I was thinking back to a time that I would come home from school, grab my leather bridle and putting it over my shoulder, would ride my bike out to our horse’s pasture. I’d give my big Thouroughbred/Quarter horse a handful of oats and jump on her bare back and we would head up the mountain or out along the flats.
David and I settled easily into the large hotel room with pillows turned at fancy angles and the toilet paper’s edges folded neatly. This was a nice change from our last experience at the Hacienda motel back in 1987 for our class’s ten year reunion. We freshened up for the Friday night meet and greet, which was at Jimmy’s pub downtown Creston. My palms were sweaty and I was nervous as I moved into the dimly lit banquet room and I was shocked to discover that I hardly recognized anyone. When did we get so OLD! But I guess after 30 years a lot of life had occurred for many of us. Thankfully I spotted Cheryl, who was on the grad committee. She was checking in everyone and giving the grads their name tags, which believe me, WE NEEDED! She had been so lovely welcoming me to come to the reunion even though I had missed the registration deadline by months!
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| Cheryl and Cindy on the Friday night meet and greet..one of the things we chatted about were “kids these days!” |
David and I mulled around the room, nervously eyeing name tags but what worked best for me was looking into my classmates eyes, since I believe eyes are the windows to the soul and the soul is ageless. We had a few meaningful conversations and big hugs when I found my peeps but it had been such a long day so David and I left the pub by 10:30 and headed back to the hotel with my head reeling over the fact that I probably have aged as much as my classmates. Having young children keeps one too busy to think about aging but it was hitting me in the face….I was 57! Huh…when had that happened!
After a good sleep in the cool hotel room, it felt strange waking up on my own accord and not being slammed by three little bodies all asking whether it was a pancake or waffle Saturday. I was missing the little ones, and the big ones already but I knew I was going to be back in the throes of everyday life soon, so we got up, had breakfast and headed to Creston’s Saturday Farmer’s Market.
David picked up a freshly roasted coffee and a few fragrant baked cinnamon buns. We strolled along looking at the various vendors wares and finally stopped to admire an artist’s tent. We were fortunate to be able to have a chat with the very talented and personable, Bruce Paterson. Since the bell was just being rung for the 9 am start, we had caught Bruce still setting up and as he did, I walked around his tent while he shared a bit of his background and history. Before we left I chose one of his etchings of Creston’s famous grain elevators which you can see in the background of the picture above.
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| Here is the etching I picked up from Bruce’s tent….looks like a photo hey? |
After that we drove up 11 Ave, to my old house on top of the hill. I had tears in my eyes as we drove around the side and the front which still has a no through road in front of it. It was still so private. David stopped the car and turned off the engine and I went down memory lane seeing my mom cutting flowers to put in her favourite crystal vase on our antique dining room table. She went in the house and my gaze went to my step dad Bud who was peacefully weeding our vegetable garden. I hadn’t realized that coming home was going to open a window of grief for my step dad who died 32 years ago, and for my mom who passed away just five years ago. She would have loved to have seen our old home again. It felt good to know someone must love the house as much as we did, since the house and grounds were well cared for.
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| My bedroom was the upstairs one on the left of the house with a view over the front and side yard |
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| It was nice to see that the owners had retained the driveway that wrapped around the house |
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| The little playhouse beside the raised beds was the scene for some great sleepover parties in the summer |
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| This is the view from the side of the yard from 11th Ave….the trees have grown tall and broad |
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| Mom would have loved this lush clematis and flowers in the front yard |
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| The tall elm trees that used to ring the drive way are long gone due to the Dutch Elm disease but it’s nice to see that other trees were planted. I love the gate house…makes it feel like a manor |
Still reeling from memories, we drove down to Goat River where I used to ride my horse Blondie on a hot summer’s day. My horse friends would join me and we would swim with our horses and spend the entire day cooling off in the deep pools and slow moving river. Relaxing on a log, David and I ate our cinnamon buns and drank our tea/coffee. My beautiful Palomino has been gone for years now but she lived again in my memories while visiting the river.
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| David scouring the river side beach, looking for small boulders for my garden |
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| David and I at Goat River…isn’t this what teens do now….selfie shots? |
Then we headed into town and grabbed sandwiches and drinks and headed up to Kootenay Lake where as a teen, I used to congregate with the rest of my class. While I couldn’t find our old beach turn off at, “Twin Bays,”instead we drove far up the lake and found a great Provincial park We ate our lunch beside a creek, which was tree-lined and dappled by the sun shining through the branches.
After that we found a almost deserted beach and spent most of the afternoon talking about our childhoods and I shared many more Creston memories with David. Everywhere I went the memories kept flooding back. Being on that beach reminded me of a time that I went across the lake with some friends and we spent the weekend camping in our own summer commune. We played music using a generator, roasted hot dogs and marshmallows and for the first time I started to feel what it would be like to be an adult since I had recently graduated and my days were my own.
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| David at a beach on Kootenay lake…do you think those rocks in the foreground are too big to bring back to the Okanagan? |
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| David and I stop at a tourist spot up at Kootenay Lake |
When we returned to town, we toured around the countryside and inhaled the farm and agriculture life, which is still the main force in the area’s economy. For instance, the area produces the largest crop of cherries in the Northern hemisphere, which surprised me since I thought the area I live in, (the Okanagan Valley) was leading the cherry production. It was nice to see quaint Organic farms and cottage- like industries established all over the rural area. Obviously people had discovered the charm of Creston and with some creativity, were creating a sustainable lifestyle. It made me smile to see Creston thriving.
We returned to our hotel rather tired after a hot day touring but more than that, surprisingly there was a lot of emotion swirling around my head. It was nice to walk into our air-conditioned hotel room and after having a warm bath, we slipped under the white sheets and had a late afternoon siesta. When was the last time we napped? It felt like pure luxury! Waking up rather late and a bit groggy, we hurriedly dressed for the evening event and headed for the Creston Golf and Country Club. It was a lovely venue along another beautiful country road, even if the mosquitos were bad but hey, where can you go this summer to escape their invasion?
I was hungry after a day of touring around, so it was really nice to be seated in an area that was first up to eat. The food was delicious but I was more interested in hearing about everyone’s lives who were seated at our table. We talked about our communities, children, grand children, work life, retired life, and of course high school memories.
As the evening unfolded it was lovely to catch up with my classmates. It was interesting discovering where they now called home, whether they had found a partner in life, if they had had families, what they had chosen to do for a living and what their dreams were now. I looked into the beautiful, expressive eyes of one of my dear friends and asked, “Loren, are you happy?” and her smile said it all before she nodded and said, “oh yeah.”
That is all I truly wished for my classmates; for them to be happy; for them to have come home to themselves.
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| Our grad coordinating committee were amazing!…here playing a few trivial games during dinner….Cheryl and Ellen are those types of people who like great wine, just get better with time. Thanks for all your hard work! |
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| “Loren, are you happy?” I asked. “Oh yeah!” she said with a huge smile while nodding her head. (Loren with partner Randall) |
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| Alanna, it was lovely to “BEE” with you again. Seriously, you have inspired me to take a course on bee keeping for my homestead |
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| Karen, next time we will play golf with you at the lovely Creston Golf course….I may need a few years to improve my drive |
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| (From l to r…Bev, Jo Ellen, Loren and me…aka Hope/Lee/Debbie) I’ve known these wonderful people since grade 7….I’ll never forget when Loren asked if I wanted some of her recess snack in grade 7….you know you have found good people when they are willing to share their food! |
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My husband David (on the left) actually pretended jokingly that he was a fellow grad…he had convinced a few people he actually was in the class of 77 with us in Creston…such a joker! (Randall and Dave…my grad friend’s partners) |
| |”When twilight drops her curtain down and pins it with a star, know you have a friend somewhere, though she may wander far”…..twilight with the girls |
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| Terry Mah and his beautiful wife, Wince Chau-Mah…life’s good! |
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| It was lovely chatting with Debbie and her husband Gary over dinner. |
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| Cheryl and Shirley with their beautiful smiles and sweet spirits |
On the long Sunday drive back to the Okanagan, I reflected on my experience going home and realized that I hadn’t ever really left Creston. I carried a piece of Creston deep inside of me and it had been there ever since I left.You see, while I was there, it healed that little girl who was floundering to find her place in the world. It gave me a sense of belonging; gave me the courage and strength to head out on my own and create a life of my own design, with the belief that no matter where I went, I would find goodness.
Along my life’s journey I discovered that home is inside each of us and as we move through the world with a secure, loving feeling, we can help others feel that they belong too. Small town caring can change the WHOLE world and make it a better place. Who knew?
~Sometimes you find yourself in the middle of nowhere; and sometimes in the middle of nowhere you find yourself.~
Isn’t it good to be home?
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| Wilgress lake |
On the drive back to the Okanagan, returning to our family, we stopped at the most peaceful spot; Wilgress Lake. There were two white resin chairs on the dock just calling our name. While watching the iridescent wings of the dragon flies flit around, I reflected on how great life was; there was always something incredible around the next corner. All you have to do is LET GO and sometimes you have to say, “goodbye” knowing you take a piece of everything with you.
You are always home!
Before you close, I hope you join me in listening to a song that reminds me of Creston. This is dedicated to my old hometown and the people in it. My heart says, “thank you!”
If you can’t click on the link below, hit the hyper-link to connect to Chantal Kreviazuk’s song, “Feels like Home.”
Until we meet again, may you be well, happy and peaceful.
Blessings from Hope (aka by my fellow grads as “Deb Clark””