A recent trip to BC (see a recent column) brought back a lot of good memories for the times and places where I used to live. You may not know any of the following places, but they were ports of call along the cruise of life for me and mine: Burnaby, 100-Mile House, Kamloops, and Abbotsford.
Those four places were mailing addresses for the first twenty-one years our married life.
They would have also included three jobs and eight kids along the way. By 2002, I had seen the light, so to speak, and shifted east to southern Alberta, where the wind blows, bawls, and bellows only twice a week—Sunday through Wednesday and Thursday through Saturday.
Trips back to BC always come with a little baggage, and I'm not talking about the suitcases in the back seat. It's called memories. You see, I loved living in Kamloops and would move back there in a heartbeat. 100-Mile house had its own definite appeal, with the other two places tied for fourth. (Yes, Maurice, I can count: I'm just trying to make a statement.)
There were different appeals for BC's interior, especially in what they call the Thompson-Nicola Valley: the very mild evenings, from early April through to early October, the moderate winters (read: fluffy, not heavy, snow), and the close proximity (isn't that redundant?) to the lower mainland, the Okanagan Valley, and the rest of central BC.
And trees and mountains.
That would be trees, as in big, tall, gangly things that stick out of the ground absolutely everywhere, providing shade, windbreak, and aesthetics. And that would be mountains, as in two to three times the size of the Sweetgrass hills—and lots of them. While they are not everywhere, they seemed to be everywhere—especially on the way to BC. If you're weak on your geography, think in terms of Kicking Horse Pass, Rogers Pass, Idident Pass, and Days Long Pass. (Actually, scratch the last two: just trying to be witty.)
I have been asked at certain junctures in my life (recent house fire and grandchildren, for starters), if I would ever move back to BC. On the surface, of course, that is a dumb (yet sincere) question. Alberta is my home, and I feel I have been here for much longer than a mere eleven years. God willing (can I still say that in Canada?), I plan to die here.
But below the surface, I don't think that's a really bad question. After all, my roots are there, my sports allegiance is there, and most of my (and my wife's) family is there. So why wouldn't I at least consider moving back to BC?
Part of the draw to BC, as mentioned before, would be the trees and the mountains. But there are lots of tree and hills (not mountains) throughout in Alberta. However, if I lived somewhere along the foothills (of said mountains), then I would get both the trees and the mountains—and stay in Alberta, to boot.
But beyond the borderline topographical advantage (or would that be topographical borderline?), I can't think of any compelling reason to move west. As much as I like to be succinct, I don't know if I can actually spell out, or sum up my feelings or reasons, for staying put here.
In other words, how does the wild rose trump the dogwood for me?
If I could put it in a word or two, I would simply say “good people.” There is a quality of people—from the multi-generational ranchers and farmers to the Mennonites, from the professionals to the merchants—that have formed a certain cultural fabric that has grabbed me. There are certain lifestyles and values that I have found unparalleled elsewhere. I'm sure they exist elsewhere; I just haven't experienced them over there.
Recent house calls for my home education business underscore this. Likewise, recent business dealings at the local gas station, the septic tank guy, the bank, and the...well, you get the picture. There is a quality of life here in the deep south of Alberta that I wouldn't trade for anywhere else.
Now if there was some way we could have forests scattered throughout the south, and plunk the odd mountain here and there, this would be, in the words of John Denver, “almost heaven.”
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