My husband Trevor (Terry) Turner was also a volunteer firefighter, starting in 1963, while he worked full time in other positions with the city of Kelowna. In 1977, he became a full-time firefighter and worked hard at the job he loved until his retirement in December of 1991.
The most devastating wildfire near Kelowna in recent times was the Okanagan Mountain Park Fire in August 2003—some 25,000 hectares of forest and 239 houses were consumed, and approximately 27,000 people had to be evacuated. It took 1,000 firefighters and 1,400 members of the Canadian Armed Forces to put that fire out. And to think it all began with a lightning strike.
The Kelowna Fire Department now has 115 full-time personnel and 66 paid-on-call volunteers operating from seven fire stations. Four stations are manned 24/7 by full-time firefighters, and three additional stations are run by the “paid-on-call” volunteers. In addition, there are two full-time staff members dedicated to training and safety.
The fire department is very involved in our community as well, actively promoting fire safety year-round. The Kelowna Professional Fire Fighters Charitable Society donates money raised at their many events during the year to various charitable organizations and worthy causes throughout the city, including the Burn Fund, muscular dystrophy, the Cancer Fund, and the Adaptive Ski Program at the nearby Big White ski resort.
Above all, and in keeping with its lengthy tradition of service, the Kelowna Fire Department plays a big role in providing leadership and a sense of hope during fires and other natural and man-made catastrophes, for which we as a community are tremendously thankful and proud.
—by Barbara Turner, Kelowna, British Columbia
The Show Must Go On
Foul weather can’t stop this traditional fowl supper!
Recently, I was reminded that a group of pink-aproned, fixed-up-hair, fancy-jean-wearing women from rural Alberta are not to be messed with. Resourceful, strong and able to work a draft horse under the table, these women are reminiscent of a small army. Oh, my! Don’t get in their way.
Across our wind-sculpted Prairies, some old traditions hold current today. Years ago, fall suppers where folks gathered in churches to chow down on chicken, salads and potatoes were an important way to connect after the gruelling days of harvest were over. These meals were all prepared without running water and electricity and ladies’ groups did just that—grouped together and cooked.
As fundraisers for the women’s clubs in churches, fall suppers were a place where neighbour after neighbour would show up to visit, eat and enjoy a short program of entertainment. My grandma remembers as a child being all shined up and waiting upstairs with a nervous stomach for her number to be called to eat. The nerves weren’t for the meal, but for the program afterwards that the children helped put on.
Now, our fall suppers are generally a buffet-style spread of deliciousness. Turkey is served instead of chicken, and potatoes, vegetables and salads adorn the plates. Followed by coffee and pie, it’s too bad there aren’t couches to have a snooze on afterwards.
As a girl, I washed dishes in the back with other girls from the community. You always wondered who you would get to chat with while going through tea towel after soaking-wet tea towel, drying dishes.
Not long ago, I got my own daughters all washed up and ready to head into Swalwell—a hamlet of less than 100 folks about ten minutes from the village of Linden, Alberta—to enjoy a traditional turkey supper. The sun blazed down on the snow left over from two weeks of ice fog that had caused power outages. Folks had been going a little crazy from the lack of brightness in the sky, so the sunshine was welcome. There was almost a spring-like feel in the air as we plowed across muddy gravel roads where the snow was turning to liquid in the ditches.
Heading into the hall, we were greeted with the sound of clattering dishes and the sight of a dim room lit by a few candles on the tables. We might live in the boondocks, but these aren’t the pioneer days, no sir. The power, however, was still having major glitches after the weather of the past few weeks.
Apparently, on this day of all days, there was a power outage for several hundred miles around and you could practically hear the women of the town gasping, not daring to open ovens in which turkeys were being browned to perfection. You can imagine the scene: Frayed nerves, nails tapping maniacally on the counter and eyes glued to the clock, waiting for a light to flicker in the kitchen.
In the end, folks from far and wide showed up at our local hall, where turkey was fed to four times the amount of people that live here. These women were something! I have never seen the like, and you would think that I would have been prepared, having grown up in this area—moulded, raised and supported by these ladies.
When the power went out, a stern phone call had been placed to our local electricity provider and a reminder was given to make our teensy hamlet a priority. Forget those communities with hospitals in them—there was near 300 pounds of turkey cookin’ around here!
In the hall, murmured conversations led to phone calls and a general consensus that the show must go on! People joke about gas-powered blenders, but folks, with my own eyes, I saw extension cords hauled around, generators brought in and gas-powered blenders actually used. Warnings of “Watch your step!” echoed through the hall.
With blenders whirring to mash potatoes and electric knives coming to life to carve the turkey, these women worked at high speed to make up the time that had been lost to the blackout. At one point, a cheer went up when the lights came on, and like something out of a movie, a collective “Aww!” when the power went off again.
Like an army of ants, these women put a spread on, but I tell you, the process was somewhat scary to behold. I have an awed sort of respect for these gals, in a “heck yes, ma’am, I’ll do whatever you say; I know that pink apron means business” kind of way.
If you want to experience a great piece of Prairie history, find a small town in the fall and ask about their turkey supper—you won’t be disappointed as you help celebrate the completion of harvest and support a local women’s organization.
You might find yourself seated next to an old-timer who’ll tell you tales of roundups from years past, or you might meet the tiniest, newest member of the community, swaddled up tight. No matter who you cross paths with, you will be the better for it.
It might not be as exciting as our last supper was, but it will have some sort of tasty pie to punctuate whatever adventure it will hold, and, believe me, all are welcome.
—by Cheyenne Stapley, Linden, Alberta
Forging New Friendships
Gaining new appreciation for their home country and province through cultural exchange
Just as my husband, Joe, and I retired, a neighbour introduced us to the Friendship Force, an international cultural exchange organization that aims to build global goodwill through personal friendships. Its motto is: “Changing the Way You See the World.”
We have always enjoyed travelling and looked upon the Friendship Force experience of cultural homestays as an opportunity to become immersed in the local culture and make new friends with other members in a few of the nearly 60 countries around the world where clubs are located. In the past 11 years, we have had the pleasure of travelling to many countries, including Brazil, Japan, Russia, Hungary, Romania, Australia and Germany, as ambassadors of Canada and our local Winnipeg club. We have made wonderful new friends and had fascinating experiences we would not have enjoyed as normal tourists.
Another benefit of Friendship Force is being able to host ambassadors of other clubs from around the world. We have learned that Canada, with 21 clubs, is the most requested country to visit within the Friendship Force organization. We have been fortunate to host visitors from Mexico, Brazil, the United States, Russia, Peru, Czech Republic, Australia and Japan. They have rewarded us with their friendship and through their eyes we have gained a new appreciation of our city, Winnipeg, and this country of Canada.
Our visitors, especially the Japanese, have been impressed b
y our vast, flat prairies with vistas that seem to go on forever. Many guests have remarked about the bright blue of our skies and the clean air. Other ambassadors from European countries have been in awe of the huge size of the Prairie farms. Mostly, they have been impressed by the space we have in Canada with such a large land mass and so few people.
Manitoba is noted for its forests and lakes, and our new friends, many of whom have come from large cities, have been delighted to spend time “at the lake” swimming in the pristine waters, learning to paddle a canoe or just relaxing in the tranquility of our great outdoors.
A lot of tropical and semi-tropical countries do not have noticeable seasons and many of our ambassadors to Winnipeg have enjoyed the beautiful colours of autumn. The tree-lined streets of Winnipeg and our country roads and lakes put on a glorious show in the fall season. Our many beautiful parks, rivers and open areas are always appreciated by our guests.
While many Canadians go south to seek warm weather in winter, guests who came from Australia in mid-February to experience a Canadian winter were astounded when walking on our frozen rivers and driving on our frozen lakes. Many of them had never seen snow and the brilliance of the sun on newly fallen snow. The speed of a live hockey game surprised them. Having never seen a game of curling, they tried their skills and soon realized that it was a difficult but fun game to play. A Californian guest remarked that ever since she had learned to sing “Jingle Bells” as a child, she had longed to take a horse-drawn sleigh ride—something we as Canadians largely take for granted. Another commented that coming to Canada in wintertime had been a lifelong dream fulfilled.
The Manitoba Museum always wins accolades for its outstanding representation of our province’s history, geography and culture. Our free and peaceful multicultural society is the envy of many countries and we have been happy to highlight a few of our local Winnipeg communities for our guests. A presentation by an Inuit speaker drew rave reviews from our guests. First Nations, Ukrainian and French history, food, colourful costumes and entertainment are always enjoyed. Visits to the Icelandic town of Gimli, to Hutterite colonies and to Mennonite communities have provided glimpses into other local cultures.
The high standard of living in Canada has been praised by our guests. Others have been surprised by the peaceful society in which we live. They were impressed that there is no need for large numbers of police to be visible on our streets and roads, and also that they are approachable and friendly. Still others have remarked on the participation of women in all areas of Canadian life. And, best of all, they have told us how comfortable they feel in our beautiful country.
All of our visiting ambassadors have enriched our lives and given us a new perspective on and appreciation for our city, Winnipeg, and this great land of ours. They have changed the way we see our country: Canada.
—by Valerie Keenan, Winnipeg, Manitoba
Breaking Boundaries
This mom-and-son pair push their limits every day
I am a single mother of an amazing 16-year-old named Dylan—my world, my inspiration and my motivation. Born with spina bifida and confined to a wheelchair, Dylan refuses to limit himself by the boundaries forced upon him. The honour of being his mother has inspired many of my endeavours in life.
My outlook and perspective have been influenced in such positive ways thanks to Dylan. Obstacles for us are merely opportunities to be creative, learn adaptability and grow stronger together. Dylan is the reason I began my fitness journey in 2005.
I remember sitting in my dining room one morning and thinking about the future. I watched Dylan transfer himself from his chair to the sofa and it dawned on me: “He isn’t always going to be this small!” I realized then that I needed to be physically stronger for him—I needed to be his “legs.” With the help of a good friend who was a personal trainer, I started weight training for physical strength, but it wasn’t long until a healthy lifestyle was my way of life. I became stronger for me!
I watched my first novice-level bodybuilding show in 2007. I realized that very day I wanted to step onstage. I committed to participating in my first show that same year as a wee middleweight contender and placed dead last, fourth out of four ladies. I didn’t care about the placement—I had achieved my goal, found new inspiration and was born into a family of fellow competitors and lovers of the sport of bodybuilding.
I have continued to pursue this passion. I switched from being a female bodybuilder to a different category called “Figure.” It encompasses both muscularity and feminine beauty, all together as one package onstage. I don’t get to flex my way through the shows anymore, but I am always striving to be better than I was before and to inspire others along the way.
I am also proud to be able to share this passion of mine with Dylan. We are a busy, goal-setting mom and son aiming for great things. Dylan plays competitive wheelchair basketball—he has ambitions to play provincially in the future and a long-term goal of national-level status. Dylan is also an Alberta and Canadian record holder in para-powerlifting; he hopes to participate in the Parapan Am Games and his sights are also set on the Paralympics. Dylan is training, with me as his coach, and hopes to represent Canada in both the junior and men’s open divisions in the under 59-kilogram category.
Another aspect of my life is nursing, my professional calling that was driven, again, by Dylan shortly after he was born. As a result of Dylan’s ongoing medical needs, I had a desire to be a better parent through education. I knew I could also be a source of strength for others, especially those with a special-needs child. I enrolled in a four-year Bachelor of Science degree in nursing and graduated in 2004. I extended my academic pursuits by specializing in the operating room and have practiced in this area ever since. I am grateful and honoured to be involved in peoples’ lives in this way.
I will always be an operating room nurse, but I also involve myself with perioperative nursing education as a clinical nurse educator. I teach and promote this specialty and am continually emphasizing the importance of further education. I have hopes of facilitating research on a few nursing topics, such as developing a program that reduces pediatric anxiety in the operating room, which will hopefully be utilized in health care settings and published in various scholarly nursing journals.
In 2014, I spent time in South America for mission work, providing new hips to people in Ecuador. I had the good fortune to work with the very surgeon who is Dylan’s orthopedic specialist, one who has provided numerous life-changing and life-improving operations for my son. This has sparked an intense desire to do more, to give more. I plan to return to Ecuador in the future and am looking to participate in other medical-based mission work as well.
I think I’ll always love to lift and to improve myself in all facets of my being. My number one source of inspiration will always be Dylan, who far exceeds any limitations society expects of him or that his own body has set upon him. Through Dylan, I am reminded daily of what we can do when we set our mind and our heart to the task!
—by Tracey Rice, Grande Prairie, Alberta
Beaver Tails and Bear Paws
Tasty illegal treats?
For the better part of the last century, my family has lived, worked and played in the Canadian wilderness. Our careers and hobbies generally centred around activities that included aspects of the Canadian environment. Wildlife photography, hunting, fishing, outfitting and other outdoor pursuits ranging from canoeing and horseback riding to snowshoeing and dogsledding filled our days. Careers such as park warden, forest ranger, trapper, land use officer, conservation biologist, wildlife rehabilitator and survival teacher are all represented within our immediate family.
I know this type of family life is not common in the urban areas of Canada where I now make my home, so while I may have routinely swum in frigid northern lakes, sucked the nectar from kinnikinnick, dined on muktuk and caribou, and even played with “domesticated” wolves, I don’t often encounter others who may have had such wonderful experiences.
It was therefore with some surprise that I had a conversation about eating beaver tail with a friend and colleague. She began by telling me about a recent trip she had taken to Montreal, where she had eaten a deep-fried beaver tail. Realizing that northern fare is often shipped to big cities for special events—fresh arctic char served at a New York gala, for instance—I took her news in stride. I replied that I had never eaten deep-fried beaver tail, but given the amount of fat, it would likely be quite tasty.
“Yes,” she agreed, “totally delicious, especially once you pour the maple syrup over it.”
“Now, that would taste good!” I answered, remembering my own childhood enjoyment of the simmering pots of beaver tail and beans that my mother would make. I imagined this sweetened with a hint of maple syrup—mmm, delightful! Something of these memories and imaginings must have shown on my face, because my friend looked at me and exclaimed:
“Not real beaver tail! It’s a pastry called Beaver Tail.”
I stared blankly at her for a few moments while I tried to adjust my thoughts to this new and strange idea. When she started to laugh at my confusion, I couldn’t help but join in. We laughed so hard our sides hurt. For me, at least, it was a memorable moment.
A few weeks later, my niece and I were browsing in a local bookstore, and upon finding the Canadian questionnaire in author Will Ferguson’s book How to Be a Canadian, I shared the story of my social faux pas with her. I guess it was still funny—she laughed and so did a fellow shopper standing next to us. Our fellow shopper felt emboldened enough with this camaraderie to confess that she herself had recently eaten a bear paw for the first time. I gasped; my niece’s eyes widened.
“You can’t do that,” I told the lady quietly, not wishing to cause her too much embarrassment.
“That’s so illegal,” my niece explained. Taken aback by our obvious horror, our new friend seemed to shrink and back away.
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