TRAVEL THE WORLD - ORCHHA, INDIA

At first, we were amused when we saw this road repair work in Orchha in 2007. Then, we realized that in India, with its surplus of unskilled labour and low wages, it would make no sense to buy expensive hi-tech equipment. The man on the right is carrying something in a large bowl on his head which he is about to pour into the mouth of the asphalt mixer. He is likely very happy to have found employment. There are millions like him in India, while at the same time there exists a great skills shortage. Hopefully, the rapid economic growth the country is experiencing will lead to an improvement in the school system and in the lives of the poor.

LIFE OF MY FATHER - 24

LIFE IN EDMONTON

After spending most of 1955 in the Yukon, my father joined us in Edmonton. He then took a job with a firm of consultant engineers, R. M. Hardy and Associates. Beginning in 1930, Dr. Hardy served as a professor in the Engineering Department at the University of Alberta, going on to become Head of Department and Dean of Engineering in 1946. In 1957, my father, while still employed by the firm, became responsible for the dismantling of the Peace River suspension bridge which had collapsed on October 16th of that year.

The following information about the collapse of the bridge is from a website of the Association of Professional Engineers and Geoscientists of the Province of British Columbia. The bridge, built by the US Public Roads Administration in 1942 as part of the Alaska Highway, was 647 metres long and was being maintained by the Princess Patricia's Light Infantry based in Whitehorse. A truck driver noticed that the road was settling, the Army immediately closed the bridge, and after continuous movement it collapsed the same day. The cause was a landslide in the bedrock beneath the bridge. The cost of the dismantling was $60 million.

For those who are interested, photos of the old bridge before and after it collapsed can be seen at http://www.apeg.bc.ca/services/branches/documents/pr/Peace_River_Bridge_Collapse.pdf

My father worked on the bridge all winter. The next summer, 1958, my mother, Suzanne and I lived in a motel at Taylor Flats, BC. to be with my father. Pacific Petroleum Ltd. had an office nearby, and my father was able to get me my first job as a temporary replacement for the manager's secretary who had quit suddenly. I enjoyed the job and found that my Grade 10 typing was adequate. The recommendation I got enabled me to get another temporary typing job in Edmonton before university classes began in the fall.

When work on the bridge was completed, my father continued to work as a consultant engineer, though I'm not sure which firm he was with. Perhaps a year later, he came home from work and told us he had quit his job. The news was a huge shock. The reason he gave was that there had been a disagreement over a matter of principle. I always admired him for his courage over this. Though further details were never revealed, I had the impression that it had involved something he was asked to do which he considered unethical.

After a fairly short period of time, he took the job of project engineer with the Alberta Department of Highways which he held until he retired. In winter, he was in the Edmonton office doing the design work for the forthcoming construction. For the remainder of the year, he was on the job, coming home on weekends. Most of the work involved the paving of highways, a major undertaking all over the province during that time.

I think he enjoyed his job. Certainly, it provided a very good pension, which would have been important to him. He used to joke about a tradition of the Department in which the Minister of Highways would visit the engineers' office at Christmas time and hand out tiny dixie cups of ice cream. I'm sure most of the engineers would have preferred something considerably stronger.

At some point in the late1960's, my father had saved enough money to buy a better house without needing a mortgage. Over the years, my mother had begun to work occasionally as a supply teacher to save money for furniture and other such things that she wanted for the house. She must have been happy the day he came home and announced sheepishly, "I think it's about time we bought a better house". They found one that was also in Edmonton's west end but in Crestwood, a nicer neighbourhood.

When I finished first year university, I had a summer job at Swanson Lumber as a typist. When I had been paid a total of $75.00, I decided to go and look for a used car, not knowing at this point how to drive. I found a 1949 Anglia. It was ten years old, but seemed in good condition and the price, $75.00, was right. The salesman said they would keep the car for me until I could come and get it.

My announcement at dinner that night was a bombshell: for the longest time, no one spoke. Finally, my father said, "Well, I guess you'll have to take driving lessons," and everyone relaxed. My mother decided after she saw the car that driving it would be unsafe. Now, it was her turn to buy a car and learn to drive. She and I, and later Suzanne too, kept the new Fiat in use almost continuously. Having wheels made quite a difference to my mother's life. She really blossomed with the her new-found freedom and independence.

Other memories I have of my father in the late 1950's are:

1) retiring after dinner to his rocking chair in the bedroom to read a history book
2) tracking the progression of his investments on huge charts which he would unroll and call me to come and look at
3) walking to work and home again even on the coldest winter days, a daily trek of about seven miles
4) while driving onto a ferry in Ontario, tearing the trim off the side of his brand new 1956 Buick when the attendant insisted he move further and further over to the side
5) getting lost in Saskatchewan when he turned the wrong way at a cross road, then claiming that all roads lead to Rome after my mother with great temerity had suggested we turn back, and finally getting stuck and having to be pulled out by a farmer's tractor
6) the pride he felt in the enormous number of miles he put on the Buick (and later on the Chrysler)
7) taking us out for brunch after church on Sunday's
8) doing jig saw puzzles while listening to classical music, especially Beethoven's Emperor Concerto, Smetana's the Moldau, and something by Mendelssohn
9) giving me $100 for getting good marks when I graduated from high school, and
10) teasing my mother for her Quebecois pronunciation of French, especially the word she used for rain.

In the photos:

1) My father in the family room of the Crestwood house.
2) My mother in the living room of that house.
3) My father's sister, Jacqueline, and his brother, Albert (date unknown).
4) My father, my Uncle Henry (Jacqueline's husband) and my father's cousin Tony Darimont (Tony and his wife Anna were with us every Christmas and often came over to play bridge with my parents.) This photo was taken in the first Edmonton house, probably in the mid-1950's.

LIFE OF MY FATHER - 23

YUKON

During the summer, to relieve the monotony, we would often go to Whitehorse, the capital city of the Yukon. Near the town was Miles Canyon, a deep gorge that was very impressive. It had a foot bridge that made me very frightened. I remember the bridge being suspended on cables, making it wobble as you crossed. It was hard to keep my footing, and if I looked down to the bottom of the gorge, I would feel dizzy.

Also at Whitehorse on the river bank, there was an old, derelict paddle steamer, one of the stern wheelers that had operated on the Yukon River between Whitehorse and Dawson City between 1900 and 1950.

My Uncle Albert's visit and our trip to the ghost town of Atlin, BC, were two events that occurred that summer. I remember seeing at Atlin a small, very old fashioned fire engine that had to be pulled by a horse.

My Dad was very busy working on the bridge. He talked about it a lot over dinner. Dinners at our house were very important, if not for the food quality, then for the conversation. My Dad always included Suzanne and I, and often we would talk about serious matters. I remember conversations about the Korean War and several about the Depression.

In Teslin, I learned a lot about bridge construction. For instance, there were several cofferdams installed in the water where the bridge was to be located. I believe these were made of steel and placed below the water level. The purpose was to create large square spaces that could be kept dry, enabling men to work inside them. Here, I believe, long wooden piles were driven and the concrete piers that would ultimately support the bridge were poured.

I remember my father, with great anxiety, monitoring the level of the water outside the cofferdams, as the spring melt came down into the Bay that summer. He took great pride in precise documentation, which he regarded as an essential attribute for engineers and also desirable in wives and children, along with orderliness, punctuality and efficient use of time. I can still remember his almost daily reports of continuously increasing water levels which came very close to causing flooding of the cofferdams.

One of the most embarrassing moments of my life occurred in Teslin. Colonel Brown and another government official from Ottawa came to check on progress at the bridge. My father entertained them in our small two-bedroom apartment above the school. Suzanne and I were in also in the living room, when my father mentioned a man whose name was very familiar. I immediately said, "Oh, that's the stool pigeon." If looks could kill...

Of course, even though I was 14 years old, I didn't know what a stool pigeon was or that this man was being paid by my father to spy on the contractor. I did discover what this was all about later, when my father explained in no uncertain terms what he expected of his daughter.

It transpired that the contractor had been cheating on the amount of cement he was putting in the concrete. I'm sure that Colonel Brown would have approved of my father having a spy if that's what it took to protect the integrity of the bridge.

In the photos are:

1) The old bridge at Teslin.
2) With fireweed at the side of the road.
3) The new Nisutlin Bay bridge.
4) Piling for Pier 3, Teslin Village in the background.
5) Pier 3 Cofferdam, January 31, 1954.
6) Pile driver hammer, August 25, 1955.
7) Working in Cofferdam #7, September 3, 1955.
8) Nisutlin Bay Bridge, January 10, 1954, looking north from existing old bridge.
9) Cofferdam #7, September 19, 1955.
10) Bearing Piles, Nisutlin Bay Bridge, August 17, 1955.
11) Alaska Highway Mile 804 looking north down the hill towards Teslin village on the point.

LIFE OF MY FATHER - 22

EDMONTON AND THE YUKON

For quite a while after we arrived in Edmonton, I missed Flin Flon and had a feeling of having been dislocated. I especially missed my friend Helen Booth and attending Girl Guides and having long bike rides with her. Other things I missed were having lessons with my piano teacher, Mr. Sonnichson, who was much nicer than his Edmonton replacement; playing piano at music festivals and on the radio; and walking to the Main Street cinema to see the Saturday afternoon movie for children, often featuring a Batman or Superman short.

I don't remember who my father worked for when we first arrived in Edmonton. After about a year and a half, he got a job at Teslin, a small settlement in the Yukon. He left in January, not returning until June. As the job was expected to last at least another year, Mom, Suzanne and I moved to Teslin to be with him. Mom taught there so we were able to rent the apartment above the school. It must have been like old times for her to teach with eight grades all in one room. As I was starting Grade Nine, I took lessons through the Alberta correspondence school.

My father's new job was at a bridge being built on the Alaska Highway, 1,300 miles north of Edmonton. The contractor was Burns and Dutton and the owner Defence Construction Ltd., a federal Crown Corporation. My father's role was to ensure that Burns and Dutton built the bridge in accordance with the specifications of the contract. It was a long bridge across Nisutlin Bay.

Teslin was little more than a stop on the highway. There was a restaurant and small motel owned by a family named Crumm, Brown's general store, a Ministry of Transport depot with three or four families, a few Metis families and an Indian Reserve. Most of the students at the one-room school were Metis. There were also three or four Treaty Indian children who had obtained exemptions from attendance at the residential school. Dolores Fraser, the wife of one of the men working for the Ministry of Transport, worked at the school to assist my mother.

Our nearest neighbours were a Norwegian trapper with his native wife and about five children. There was a piano at the school where I gave lessons to Laura, their 14-year-old daughter. In that way I got to know the family. Laura and her older sister Liliane were children of a former wife, and consequently discriminated against in the current regime. Liliane was engaged and subsequently married a fellow who worked for the Ministry of Transport.

Laura, however, was not so fortunate. A few years later, we saw her one afternoon in Fort Vermilion. She was standing on the sidewalk outside a bar. Tears came to her eyes as she told us that her father had forced her to come all the way to Fort Vermilion to take a job as a maid. Her employers spent much of their time in the bar, and she showed us bruises as proof that she had been mistreated. She was only seventeen and beautiful.

In the autumn, it began to get dark early in the afternoon. Before long, school had to close by about 3:00 p.m. In the summer, Suzanne and I had ventured a little way into the forest beside the school. We were deterred from going further because of its immense size and our fear of losing our way. In the winter, it was too cold to do much out of doors, and there was little to break the monotony of the long, dark days.

Soon after our arrival, I saw a very small puppy at the general store. She was very scrawny and smelled strongly of fish. There was no one with her, so I took her home. We named her Lucky. Not long after, I put on the little coat my mother had made for her out of a Seagram's bag, and went for a walk. A native woman, came up to me, very angry. I was able to make out that she was accusing me of having stolen her dog.

I replied, "Fine, come to the school where we live, and if you bring some money to pay for the food we've given her, we will give her back to you." Needless to say, she didn't appear. At the time, I felt proud of myself for my presence of mind and for rescuing the dog from possible starvation. Now, I feel sympathy for the native woman. Lucky was a bear dog, a breed developed by the Yukon Indians to use for hunting bear. These dogs were small and quick and would nip at the bear's feet while it was being hunted. For their owners, they were likely prized possessions.

We had this dog until her death many years later. My father often played with her and loved her very much. He was a person who had a lot of feeling. However, it was easier for him to show his affection for a dog than for a person.

We left Teslin just before Christmas, driving the 1,300 miles to Edmonton. On the way, in the dark, we almost hit a moose. My father stopped the car and we waited for quite a while until he recovered and could drive again. He told us we would have been killed if we had collided with the animal. The family returned to Teslin in January, while I stayed with my grandmother until the end of the school year. Going to real school was much more to my liking than taking lessons by correspondence.

In the photos are:

1) With Laura on the suspension bridge over Miles Canyon.
2) Annette holding Lucky.
3) The old-fashioned fire engine at Atlin, BC.
4) Lucky.
5) In Edmonton in December 1954, from left to right: M. Robert, my grandmother's husband; my grandmother; Annette; Mom; and Suzanne.
6) Transport Cafe at Lower Rancheria, Alaska Highway.
7) The bridge over Nisutlin Bay that was being replaced.
8) Old photo of a bridge on the Alaska Highway.
9) Dog team at Marsh Lake between Whitehorse and Teslin.
10) Alaska Highway near Silver Creek, just over the Alaska border.

The sixth, seventh, ninth and tenth photos were taken by my father some time between 1953 and 1955.