Elisabeth Heslop
Every town has its stories, its history; knowledge, abbreviations, points of reference, things that are known and taken for granted by the locals.
These stories are a vital part of the perspective each resident has on the world.
My heritage always has been important to me, but I don’t think I ever realized how influential it was in forming my world view until I found myself in Fort Frances—nearly 2,000 km from my home in southern Alberta.
As a journalist, I’ve found that knowledge of the heritage and history of an area is vital to understanding what is important to the people. While I am working and living in your town and your district, I will be exploring your history and asking you to share your heritage with me.
Before I do that, though, it is only fair that I share mine with you.
My first impressions of the town were of a settled community, content with its place in the world. I realized that things here are different from home, though not so much as to be glaringly obvious.
There is a feeling of constant movement in Calgary, of people always moving on to “bigger and better” things. There is an air of “progress,” like the feel of a heavy freight train rushing past when you stand near the tracks. The feel of the wind, the vibration of the air and the ground, the wail of the whistle all give a sense of something that is unstoppable.
One leaps on at one’s own peril and once on, there is no slowing down, no stepping off at leisure.
Behind all this rushing there is a steadier pace, but even that is constantly moving forward, never looking back. Somehow, in Calgary, one gets the impression that everyone has to prove themselves.
Yes, there is the warm, friendly acceptance that we are known for. We still are “Cow Town,” never more obvious than in July during the Calgary Stampede when the entire city suddenly pulls out jeans and cowboy hats, but we also are becoming more and more a corporate centre.
For a girl from the country, who grew up surrounded by the steady life of daily farm chores punctuated by the yearly excitements of the spring calving and lambing seasons and winter feeding during blizzards, this whirlwind urban life is a little overwhelming, to say the least. That is why I am so enjoying being in a smaller town like Fort Frances.
For me, home always has meant meadowlarks singing from fenceposts in the spring, snowy owls roosting on telephone poles along lonely country roads, the quietness and beauty of a winter night during a new moon, when the stars are so brilliant you can almost read a book by their light, the sweet song of frogs in the slough, the whistles of ground squirrels sunning themselves on their dirt mounds, the wonder of watching a new birth unfold from the mother’s pain to the moment when the young lamb or calf first lifts its head and responds to the mother’s gentle calls, and the distant echo of a train passing through some small Prairie town.
Now, home wasn’t always this peaceful. There were the cows who calved early because the neighbhour’s bull had jumped the fence. And somehow they always seemed to go into labour in the middle of the worst blizzards of the year.
But you know, there is something about heading out into blinding snow and dangerously cold weather at two in the morning to deliver a calf that I’ve always found exhilarating.
This is my home, this is my heritage. I come from a land of rolling prairies and deep coulees, forested foothills and soaring mountain peaks. Agriculture was the first way of life I knew and will always be my first love.
Perhaps that agricultural background is why I find I feel at home here, for all small towns and rural areas seem to hold dear the same basic values. Values like assisting one’s neighbours without expecting a return, values like caring about one’s community instead of building a six-foot fence to keep it out.
I have only been here a short time, but already I feel welcomed and accepted.
When you see me around town and the district, please introduce yourself, tell me a little of your heritage, and feel free to ask about mine.
As we who live in small communities already know, it is only through communication that we maintain the bonds that set us apart from the rush of big cities.
