THE SENTINEL IN THE FOOTHILLS

As soon as I am on Highway 3 heading east from British Columbia, I am already preparing myself for a “treat”. I make sure that my gas tank has just enough gas to reach Brocket, Alberta. I can already envision the weathered gas station on the left side of highway on the far side of Brocket. All signs advise “Red Feather” is ahead. One would anticipate an exciting adventure in a trading post as we are on First Nations lands.

I already know not to get too excited with gas prices at Crows Nest at some 10 to 15 cents per liter cheaper than British Columbia. The extra sixty (60) kilometers may receive rewards for additional 5 to 7 cents at Red Feather.

The gas pumps are dated and the parking lot has its pot holes with no pavement. The false front on the dated building does not indicate any life and so one assumes this must be a “self serve” station and you automatically check the meter reading for the price as the other hand takes the spout out of its holder.  The numbers are worn and hardly discernible but the trust remains and the spout enters the waiting gas inlet.

Out of nowhere, it seems, this tall handsome man comes forth and takes the spout out of my hand with “fill it up?”His questioning face is not smiling but friendly.

“Yes, of course,” is my response. It is almost as if I am on familiar turf as this experience is repeated at least twice a year. I am leaning to the west while trying to be in a nonchalant discussion in this strong wind. There is a reason why the few trees in this part of Canada all are bent eastward. “The wind is a bit strong today, isn’t it?” trying to start up a conversation.

“Yes, it calmed down a lot today,” he opined as he continued with his work, oblivious to the tattered flags trying desperately to hang on to the cord that secured them to the building face.

My eyes surveyed the scene around:

• Aging buildings in the town site
• Lonely Band housing units dotting the prairie
• Derelict care bodies parked around this housing where they their motors ceased to start again
• Horses grazing on the sparse vegetation
• Prairie on the eastern horizon
• Snow –capped mountains to the west
• Rolling hills to the north and south

The flick of the lever on the gas pump and the clang of the gas spout entering its holder indicated that the operation was over. Upon entering the single door to the station, the first sign reads “washrooms not in operation”. I recall that was the same sign that was there a few years ago. There was a time when some renovations were undertaken and the washrooms did operate. There must be a story in this washroom challenge as no matter what the Operator did, something would happen and the sign would go up again.

The lady behind the counter was tall, pretty and her red features displayed a natural beauty that indicated a partnership with the Owner. Again there is friendliness but without a false smile that is usual in other filling stations. There is something very genuine that I always feel at Red Feather but I sense that the business has not resulted in financial wealth. The temporary RV and vehicles parked may be the only residence or perhaps used as a shelter during operating hours.

Shopping is limited to confections and not artifacts as one would assume might be on the merchandise inventory. Perhaps a story may be there.

There is a history that I am sure could be told if and when I would take the time to chat. I wonder if my sincere interest will be reciprocated with any information that I should receive. How is life in the First Nations? Does this family lease from the Band? Do they operate for the Band?

When I drive away, my thoughts continue for the next hour with those questions as I wonder how they feel towards my white face. Are we all Canadians? Are we all equal?

How can I explain to them that I am proud of what they are doing to make a living just like every other Canadian?

One of these times, I will pause to visit more, next time.

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Written January 17, 2013, 1125 hours

ALL ABOUT HANDICAPPED PEOPLE AND BULLYING

One of my objectives for 2013 is to put my opinion forward on this subject. I have experienced bullying since a small child as it was playfully administered by my older siblings and maliciously directed by students in the school I attended. I also wondered about my family members who lived with enormous handicaps and I always wondered how they were able to accept all that in their lives.

This is a chronicle that will outline one point of view.

I used to watch a new brood of chicks on the farm and noted a yearly occurrence where some baby chicks were just not able to cope with the challenges when one hundred (100) of them competed for food, space and shelter. Sooner or later one or two would become “sickly”. It amazed me, as a child, that the other chicks would “pick away” at these poor hapless chick(s). Soon they would just give up and end up pecked away as dead carcasses. Is this a natural trait in all animals!

There was excitement when a brood sow gave birth to a litter of eight (8) to twelve (12) piglets; almost always there would be a runt in that brood. The next day the runt would be missing, which resulted in a question to my parents “there is one missing!” 

“Yes”, was the answer, “the sow ate it!” How disgusting! How could a mother eat her own offspring?

The eagle, raven, tern: all seem to have a natural characteristic when a runt chick would result in the nest. Either the other chicks or the parent bird would eat it.

In the instance of my pet cats, a mother would eventually move her litter to another location leaving the runt to die.

I have mentioned just some of the natural incidents that seem to underline the saying “the strong will survive and the weak will perish’!

Wolf and similar animal litters will enjoy “rough play” in their growing process to learn to survive.

My older sister and two brothers, used to enjoy teasing me and taunting me. Although it was playful, as a youngster, it was difficult to understand that it was just “sibling love play”? Perhaps it is a natural instinct that takes place while the growing and maturing is in process in humans as well.

So when children find themselves in a group, it seems that this type of “community association” takes place with the tougher kids picking on the timid and weaker children. Yes, I know it is bullying but it is a natural process amongst animals. As a child I was brought up as a “Consciencus Objector”. This meant that fighting back was not an option. I withstood all types of teasing and was often called “chicken”. It wasn’t until I was in grade six (6) when at noon on a cold winter’s day; I reacted to a Bully who had just brushed my cold nose with his leather mitt. My automatic response was a “haymaker” to his chin, knocking him over. The fellow lay there in disbelief that I had hit him. I am sure he thought, “Was that really Elmer?”He was one of my respected class mates from that day on through to graduation. Is that the way society needs to function? It worked in my instance.

It is my opinion that humans that have handicaps are also “picked on” or bullied mainly because the “bully” can get away with it easier as that seems to be the underlying temptation. I had an uncle that was very hearing handicapped and a granduncle that was visually handicapped. In both instances, although there would be a female member of the family that would be compassionate and caring in each instance, the rest of the family mostly ignored them. I cannot really suggest a reason other than they just had “no time” for them.

I am sure that most of us become impatient with a person with a cane that is preventing us from moving faster in a crowd or that wheelchair crowding into an elevator. It is only in later years that we realize that we too, could become handicapped and only then do we permit ourselves to assist these people when the opportunity should arise.

Nature is now taking away my hearing sense and as the condition continues to deteriorate, my dependability on technology to augment my senses becomes more acute with the years. What I notice more is the inability of friends and relatives to understand that the former self has changed dramatically and cannot participate in normal group discussion. No matter how many times I remind people that I need slower discussion with more enunciation, it is soon forgotten in the next conversation.  This is normal in group dynamics as the whole is not prepared to slow down for one part.

I used to watch my mother-in-law who had lost her hearing, in part, due to a slight stroke. She would sit there, smiling, while her family excitedly chatting around her. Soon she would take out her box of recipes and begin sorting them. It would take the group a short time to notice her in this action, only to realize that she was not even understanding their concern as she could not hear them. This is so with my situation now.

One needs to learn the process of participation without making an impact on the rest. This is difficult as one has a tendency to retreat into himself, rather than trying to cope with the situation. More technical development in hearing aids is making the situation bearable but there is no question, one realizes the limitations in the world of most handicapped or challenged people.

On the positive side of this is that during this process of understanding your handicap, one becomes more apt to notice and assist other handicapped people whenever the situation arises. It does provide an opportunity to make one a better person and improve society as a whole.

So the people around me can be interpreted to be bullies in the same manner as I previously described the children and siblings around me. Perhaps they are just being normal living beings in the natural sense.

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Written January 02, 2013, 1325 hours