Memory Lane 11. Birthday.

I probably should be leaving *my* memories here, but, truth be told... I don't remember much about this day, 45 years ago. Mom and dad phoned me early this morning, and, after a hilarious a-tonal choral rendition of the Happy Birthday song, she recounted a few more details of the time surrounding my birth. I think we were in very dear peril of suffering an "overshare", but mom pulled it out at the last minute,. Heh.

Anyways, here's the photographic trip down Memory Lane for today.

45 years ago tonight, in fact.

I do kind of wish that there were babies in the bassinettes beside mine. Apparently, I was a bit of a moose-child. But being nearly 10 pounds will do that. Yes, it's true, my enormously large children come by their birth weights honestly.

But put me up against a grown adult, and I look positively miniscule.

And while that wall behind my dad's head might look tilted, it's not. My folks lived in an attic during my early years. The walls ALL tilted, and my folks got good at ducking.

Well, it's nearly lunch time, and I've invited my kids out for my birthday lunch at THEIR favourite restaurant. Yes, it's fun being a mom.

Memory Lane 10. Birthday Memories

On this, the eve of Remembrance Day (Armistice Day/ Veteran's Day... and also my birthday) I thought I would give you a taste of what we did Every Year on this day.

First, there would be birthday festivities. Usually over breakfast.

Ooh! I wonder what's in those parcels???? The blue one is probably a shirt. But not a Stretch-N-Sew one. Mom didn't learn to do that until we were living in the house with the daisy wallpaper in the kitchen. See?

Oh look. I'm SIX! No wait. Hold on a minute. We moved into that house when I was in first grade, and I'd already turned six. So this must be Birthday Number Seven.

But no time to dilly-dally. Even though it's NEVER a school day, and the stores are closed, we've got places to go and things to do.

Because every year, Dad was involved in SOME way with the Remembrance Day parade or memorial at the cenotaph. And no matter the weather (seriously, I have frozen my fingers OFF on more than one occasion, standing at the cenotaph), we would be out there, watching the parade, saluting the veterans, and then standing silently at the memorial cenotaph, no matter which town we were living in. And I can still recite In Flanders Fields, too.

This is Prince Rupert. Probably around 1965 or 1966.

We must never forget.

Memory Lane 9. Manning Park Sign.

For those of you playing the "How has Kemma grown over the years: The Manning Park Sign" game, here's another entry:

Yup. Even when there was snow up to our armpits, we still had to get out of the car at that sign, and push our way through so we could get measured.

In retrospect, I'm loving that we did that. I'd say that this was 1973 or 1974. Hmm. The year we went to Nana and Poppa's for Christmas. That would also be the year that I got a lovely little vial of violet-scented perfume from them. it smelled so good, I was CERTAIN that it must taste just heavenly.

Ick. I'll draw a curtain across the results of THAT swig. Ptooey!

Memory Lane 8. Hinton

When we were kids, holidays usually involved getting in the car (or later, in the maxi-van that dad had converted into a camper. Woo-wee) and driving off somewhere. These drives were usually long and involved, and, if I don't miss my guess, they were well-planned, even though Skip and I never knew what the itinerary was. We just got in, drew the line down the middle of the back seat, and tried not to throw up.

I think it was the summer after 2nd grade, we drove through BC, and then up across Alberta, heading for the little hamlet of Pump Handle, near the Saskatchewan border. Mom and dad had friends (probably from their Northern BC Fishing Village early-married days) scattered across the country, and we were always welcome in their homes (as they were in ours), and this one family had a family farm that they'd gone back to. I remember the big kitchen garden, and the red barn (doesn't EVERYONE have a red barn?), and out through the fields of rape seed, there was this old giant house. Two stories. Partially crumbling, but so far from anywhere that there were no vandals to speed the process. They called it "The Spook House", and you better believe that was a fun place to visit. When I was younger, I had this stack of postcards from the early 1900s that I'd found in a room there. And dad found an old clock that had a bird's nest in the workings, and their friends had said "Take it! What are we going to do with it?" Dad took it home, and cleaned it up, and it's a beautiful mantle clock now. Doesn't exactly keep great time, but it's a piece of history.

I'm trying to find photos from The Spook House (I know they're out there), but today, you'll just have to deal with the Motel Photo. Here we are in Hinton, Alberta, at our cosy little motel room. We travelled in a '58 Chevy, the color of old pepto bismol. I don't think it had seat belts.

And here you also get another taste of my mother's Stretch-n-Sew prowess.

Golly, did I have ANYTHING that she didn't sew?

Memory Lane 7. Road Trip

When I was a kid, say from the ages of 4 until I was 13, we lived in "The Lower Mainland". That was a catch-all name for any city within striking distance of Vancouver, BC. We lived in and around the city, but never in Vancouver. (Or rather, I never lived in Vancouver until I was on my own as an adult, sharing my third, or fourth apartment with a girlfriend)

But anyways, we lived in The Lower Mainland, and my mom's folks lived in the Okanagan, along the shores of the Okanagan Lake, which was an idyllic place to spend summer vacations. The only thing between us and the lake was an interminable FOUR HOUR DRIVE.

These days? I scoff at a 4-hour drive. That's for pansies! My kids know that to go anywhere worth getting to, you get up at 4am, and drive for at LEAST four hours before you even have your first potty break... but back when I was a kid, and had to share a back seat with my pesky brother, four hours was an ETERNITY!

We had landmarks to pass the time.

Port Mann Bridge! We made it without bickering all the way to the bridge! Are we there yet? Are we there yet? What do you mean, it's not even been half an hour?

The big tall stump beside the highway in Langley! Are we there yet? Are we there yet?

The long sweeping corner just outside of Abbotsford where, if you turned right, you could SEE THE UNITED STATES! Can we go there? Can we go there? It was so exotic!

The windy stretch of freeway just before Chilliwack, with the farm in the middle of the freeway. Hold on tight. That wind could blow your car over if you weren't careful. We'd often see big rigs on their sides. I wonder why that area was so windy...

Hold your nose! We're going through Chilliwack, and there's gonna be that smell of cow poop from the honey wagons spreading manure on the fields, or, if you were REALLY unlucky, pig poop wafting down from the farms.

Then up the hill, around the hill, and we were approaching Hope. "Gateway to Holidayland"! It always felt like we were ALMOST there when we got to Hope, even though it was barely two hours into the trip. Once, my brother saved up his money, and we stopped at this rock shop in the outskirts of Hope, and he bought a big piece of jade. I wonder what happened to that rock...

If it was really hot, once in a blue moon, we'd stop in Hope for ice cream, but that was a RARE event. We had places to be! And people to see! And if we stopped, we'd lose time.

Next landmark, The Hope Slide! In January, 1965 a small avalanche blocked the road. While waiting for the road crew, 4 people were waiting with their cars when a small earthquake brought down the entire mountain side onto the highway, burying the cars and people. My folks often stopped at the memorial, and talked about what had happened. I think (but I'm not sure) that they knew two of the people who were never found under the rubble. But for my brother and I, it was a chance to run around like maniacs for 2 minutes. And, if we were feeling a little 'off' because of the mountain roads we were just starting to drive up into, it was our chance to puke. That was us. We were the Puker Kids.

Back in the car! We've gotta be somewhere.

It was probably only about 10-15 more minutes before the next landmark...

We stopped here every time. It was how our folks kept track of how we were growing up every summer.

The drive seemed to go faster from this point. First, there were the campgrounds. Coldspring (I think), where we'd camped often, and Mule Deer (where we sometimes camped if Coldspring was full) And Rhododendron Flats, where we'd sometimes stop in the late spring, so mom could take photos of the flowers. Sometimes, if there was a potty-break need, we'd stop at the Manning Park Lodge to use the bathrooms, but more often than not, we'd stop at the Beaver Pond, or the Blowdown! to use the outhouses.

We were all rustic like that.

Oh look! A two-fer today! Here's the Blowdown, circa 1969:

(Historical note: When we were kids, this was one of the big landmarks on the Hope-Princeton highway. Everyone stopped there to see the carnage of an entire valley full of pine trees leveled by a single windstorm. The last time I was through there, I couldn't even find the landmark marker. Just a sign that said "Blowdown/Boyd's Meadow" Seems there's nothing left to see. Nature has taken its course, and the new trees are now as big as the old trees ever were, and it's just more forest. Le sigh.)

There were lots of things to see in Manning Park, and some times, we'd spend a little extra time there on our trip. But usually, we were On A Mission! Gotta get to the grandparents' house! So off we'd go. Bye bye, East Gate of Manning Park. Sometimes, we'd get gas there, but not usually. Yikes, it was expensive.

Before you knew it, it was getting hotter, and hotter, and you'd come over a rise, and see the little town of Princeton spreading out before you in the valley. Down the hill, look longingly at the Tastee-Freeze on your right, and the Dixie Lee Chicken on your left, and think "There's a school right between those two Meccas? How do the students ever get any work done, thinking about all that great fast food?" and whoosh, you were out of Princeton, and heading off eastward.

Out the driver's window, we'd follow the Similkameen river with our eyes, a lazy shallow river that traveled in the same direction as we did. Some times, we'd see kids floating down the river on inner tubes or air mattresses. What a life! "If we lived here, we could do that too!", we'd think. And then, BOO YEAH, it would be such a short drive to the grandparents.

Next, we'd see Bromley Rock out the driver's window. A big chunk of granite that the Similkameen had to curve around. Sometimes, there would be rapellers zipping down the face of the rock. It looked exhilarating! I would never have guessed that years into my future, I, too, would be skimming down that rock in a flimsy little rope harness.

Next landmark, Hedley. It used to be a gold rush town. There's still a giant ore-works at the top of the mountain above the town, but the town was down to about 10 houses, and a nearly-crumbled corner store. I don't think it even had a gas station.

But that was OK, because Keremeos was not far ahead. There were farmer's market stands at the side of the road, and a big K written into the mountain above the town by the finger of God. Landslides, or something. Always look for the big K, and you knew you were almost home.

Dad knew "The Shortcut" around Keremeos, so we never went into town, but skirted around it, cheering because we'd shaved 5 or 6 minutes off of the trip. But then... hold on... we're driving past Yellow Lake. And everyone KNOWS that Yellow Lake is BOTTOMLESS! You don't want to fall in there, or you'll get sucked RIGHT DOWN TO THE EARTH'S CORE! And of course, the road was very narrow, and I always held my breath going along that stretch.

Then there was the turn-off to Apex. We didn't ski, so we didn't care about that road. It was SO CLOSE to the Okanagan at this point! And then Highway 3 (The Hope Princeton) met up with Highway 97, and we turned left onto that highway, and we KNEW we were getting close.

It was right around this point that we'd roll down the windows and start sniffing. It was some point of honor to be the first person to smell a skunk. That was the olfactory clue that we were Almost There.

On the left, the Okanagan Game Farm. Crane your necks, and see if you can see any wild animals, because we're not going IN. We're Too Close! Can't you see Skaha Lake to the right? It's just a matter of driving through Penticton, up the break between Skaha lake and Okanagan Lake, and then we're winding our way to Nana and Poppa's house. Past Kickininee picnic site, past Soorimpt picnic site, past Pyramid picnic site, and we were almost there.

Then the Agriculture Canada Research Station road to the left. Oh man, we could WALK FROM HERE! Both Skip and I were on the edge of our seats by now. Crossing Trout Creek! Look! You can almost see their house! And even though the lake was on our right, we were all looking left, as Dad started slowing down to make the drive even more agonizing. A left turn, through cherry orchards, and the long street ending in their driveway. Ah, Nana and Poppa's house, behind the tall cedar hedge that Poppa grew from cuttings. Their yard was a paradise, I will have to show photos of the garden as I knew it as a child, but I want to leave you with a photo of their house in the '40s.

Honestly, I would NEVER have believed this was the same house, if you'd showed me this photo when I was a kid. Nana and Poppa's house was immaculately kept, and impeccably maintained. The lawn was like a putting green, and the flowers were award winning.

It kind of makes me think that there's hope for me with my pathetic garden right now.

Maybe when I have grandchildren, I'll have a garden to remember, too. Not just dirt and weeds.

Memory Lane 6. Mumps

So we're not always healthy and happy in our home.

While I was working in Nate's class yesterday afternoon, he looked a little lethargic, sitting at his desk while all the other kids had pulled their chairs up around the teacher while she read Pippi Longstockings. I looked over at him, and he said "My head hurts".

Uh oh.

Well, they'd just come in from outside, and I thought maybe he had some lingering allergies from the freshly cut grass, or something, but then I went over to him, and touched his head.

There were six kids out yesterday with a fever.

Nate made Number Seven.

He's home today. We'll see how much stuff I can get done around the house while he rests and dopes himself up on Tylenol.

But what does this have to do with Memory Lane?

Let's take a trip in the way-back machine.

November 1971, to be exact.

That's me, on my birthday, WITH THE MUMPS.

How's that for a groovy birthday present?

I think I probably should also give a shout-out to those great plaid pants. I think my mom made them. She took a Stretch-And-Sew class in the summer that year, and my brother and I got the "privelege" of wearing all her creations.

Fortunately, I think the Brady Bunch girls were wearing trousers like that, that fall, so all was well.

My oldest son only wears orange. I wonder where THAT came from...

Well, it's time to take Nate's temperature again, and take Kelly off to school.

Let's hope Nate is the only one in our family to get this nasty fever, but with fifty kids knocked down by it in the school, I wouldn't be surprised if we get hit again.

Have a great day, folks. Wash your hands.

Memory Lane 5. Centennial

Centennial!

Raise your hand if you remember Canada's centennial.

::crickets::

OK. But it was a big deal. Especially in the smaller towns. And I was still living up North, in a town known for fishing, canneries, and drunks.

But when they partied during the day, it was FUN! And look at all the COOL cars in the background.

It's funny. I look at that photo, and I don't really see my dad. He's about 60 pounds heavier now, but still svelte (he was a skinny wiry boy, he was, in his early years with the Mounties). I see Skip a bit in his face, and the openness of his gaze. And I see Kelly in my little blonde-fringed face.

I guess there's no fighting against genetics. You get what you get.

Happy 100th Anniversary Canada... July 1, 1967,