My only brother lived with them, going to his second year of school. I ended the child rearing days of my parents, I was the example they wanted to exhibit. I guess my brother was a practice run. My brother was the first, I was the last.
We managed to stay in that community for about 6 months, then it was time to move on. I didn't keep a journal during the first few years, I guess with all the moving we did it would have been just another book to pack. We lived in Britannia Beach, BC for a while, thirty miles north of Vancouver, then Polaris Taku Gold Mines - on the Taku River, just across the border from Juneau, Alaska. I was only three but I have some memories of the place.
I remember the 20 feet of snow. That's no snow job, the snow was up to the roof tops. We had to tunnel out of our houses to get anywhere. I remember hammering nails into the electrician's office floor until there was no space without my mark. I remember the plane ride to get to the mining camp, laying on the mail bags in the back of the plane. Mostly my brother was sent to the back with the mail but once I was there too. I moved the chunks of bags around to form a makeshift chair and had the best view of all. The plane flew under a bridge to take off from Juneau, passed by mountains, streams and a huge glacier. We landed near the mine, and had to drive on the bumpiest road, often passing a family of grizzly bears to get to our home sweet home.
My mother told me later, much later, that she went grocery shopping only twice a year. They only shipped food by boat once during the spring and once during the fall. There were no convenience stores either, if you ran out you were out until the next shipment. There was no fresh food, no "real" milk. I drank enough powered milk (KLIM) to be permanently scarred by the experience. There was no doctor at the mine, and no regular phone to the outside world. But there was a nurse called Taffy and I owe him! I got very sick one day, to the point I was being measured for a pint sized box. A radio call to the doctor in Juneau and a couple of needles later I recovered (obviously, I wrote this diatribe a half a century later). My mother says I had Spinal Meningitis, but who knows? The doctor wasn't sure, and mothers don't know everything, even though they say they do. I managed to bend one of his needles when it had a battle with my rump.. I was feisty little red head in the early years.
I remember the bears coming up to the back porch
and stealing pies, puddings and other assorted foods left to cool. Oh yes, the second time we moved there, our furniture got completely soaked as it
weathered a storm out on deck on one of the coastal boats during its trip to the north. My mother talked about that for at least 30 years, shaking her finger at the steamship line that did that awful deed.
We lived at Britannia Beach again, I have so few memories. Mostly, my brother carried me around in a back pack. I guess I was his pet. He had a cat once but it kept running away... I didn't run, I came when called, was previously potty trained by the big human at home and I was polite to him, he liked me best! I remember the Howe Sound Ferry on its trip from Squamish, Britannia and on to Vancouver. Now they have a road, but it isn't nearly as interesting as the ferry. I watched McGyver on TV a few years back hurting bad guys in some of my favourite haunts, he used Britannia for some of his location shots.
We moved to Vancouver, 10th and Alma St., right beside the Home Gas Station (gone now). What a great place. There was a big willow tree in the back corner of our yard, our very private yard. There was the gas station on one side, commercial buildings backed on to us at the back of the property and one neighbour, a dentist beside us. I wasn't allowed to cross the road so I ran around the block a lot. I didn't know how to turn left until I was 7. My first school was Bayview Public School on 7th Avenue, near Alma St. Lived there, during the day for two winters. They used to have really thick fog in the late '40s. I remember walking around the school yard and only being able to see a couple of feet ahead. Young people today scoff at that rememberance because Vancouver hasn't seen fog that thick to this day.
I remember going to Spanish Banks during a hot summer day, without the appropriate amount of suncreen. My brother and I had fun on the beach until the sun went down. Waking up the next day I found myself in agony. My brother had a new game, try to peel the skin off my back in one big slab. I remember walking about 5 miles to the Lion's Gate Bridge with my brother, many times. We would do the boy thing - spit off the side of the bridge - then go home.
My grandmother lived a few blocks away but she didn't like children very much so I went only when dragged. Even though it was only about 6 blocks away, the houses were different, the trees seemed bigger, the cars moved faster, and the people weren't nearly as friendly... the imagination and mind wanderings of the young can conjure up permanent memories of some things that never were.
I remember getting a set of roller skates, yes skates - not blades for Christmas. I was an accomplished skater, I thought, a couple of hours later. One spring day I walked up the 10th street hill toward the university, slapped on the old skates and skated home. I said I learned to skate, I didn't say I learned to stop. There I was going DOWN the hill and thinking about the speed I had attained. Wow, am I going fast or what! Then I looked ahead, a little. There, coming toward me at the speed of light, was Alma St. I held my hand over my mouth, to keep my heart in. I forgot about the street car tracks and the street cars, I forgot about all the traffic. I forgot about the RED LIGHT at the bottom of the hill! I now remembered that I never learned to stop!
Faster than a speeding bullet I flew across the street, not even feeling the tracks, missing the traffic, watching my house go by as I continued down 10th Avenue, coasting to a stop at the end of the block, my little body trembling and my mouth dry. I hung up the skates after that... I had done it all, and lived to tell about it.
Returning to Vancouver in later years, I observed everything was smaller, distances closer and people shorter. However, memories retain the thrill of the original times.