Edmonton

I went to Edmonton last week. I thought that maybe I had visited Alberta's capital before, but consulting my father, I learned that on the previous trip (in 1954) we drove from Saskatoon to Leithbridge, avoiding both Edmonton and Calgary and proceeding to Vancouver. So after over eleven years in Manitoba, I have finally visited beyond Saskatchewan.

John and I flew from Winnipeg to Calgary, and thence to Edmonton. A tight schedule gave us ten minutes in the Calgary airport, time enough to leave WestJet and re-enter at the gate next door. Thursday afternoon we arrived in Edmonton, where we met Bill, who had rented a car. He took us on to Taylor, where the conference was held.

The meetings were good; time spent in conversation, learning and thinking: on some other occasion I may pursue some of the thoughts generated there. But when they were over the next day, I had a new experience. For the first time in many years I met another Climenhaga, one I have corresponded with but never met.

Dave lives in Edmonton, close to my age; and he gave John and me a tour around the city before going back to the airport. Our grandfathers were brothers, and our fathers first cousins.

The conversation as we drove and then sat at the airport was wide-ranging and enjoyable; recounting it would be tedious and unenjoyable. Enough to say that I saw Edmonton for the first time, and connected with a delightful person there. I gather that I have four or so more second cousins in Edmonton. I'll have to go back again!

My Sister

She is my sister, five years older than I.

When I was born, she waited in the dark of a vanette in the African night,

Waiting for a brother,

Waiting for me.

When I came on the scene, she left.

Went to boarding school almost as soon as I appeared.

Seven years later, I followed.

Hillside hostel -- so close, so far from Landon House, Evelyn School.

She came by bus on weekends to visit,

Renew friendship, sibling bond in a strange city,

Alone among the Rhodesians.

Soon she went on ahead of all of us.

Fifteen years old, left behind, gone on ahead.

We went to Bulawayo; she went to Woodbury.

We had the African sun; she had the seasons of Bedford County.

We returned, and found that she had gone further ahead,

A young woman of twenty, with varied experiences.

No longer just my sister, now so much more.

I went to college, and she was already there.

I took mathematics to avoid her, a dreary failure.

Embraced English and found her there,

My teacher as well as my sister for the next two years.

"Put that down, you'll drop it!

Why are you always fidgeting?"

I found her office a refuge,

Which made it less of a refuge for her.

Then graduation for me;

My sister was married,

Her son, my nephew, followed the month I left school and headed

Back to Africa.

My sister put down roots; I travelled to Africa and back.

There and back again several times, as her roots grew deeper.

Growing and changing in marriage, and children --

New career in journalism, administration, government

While roots went deep into the Pennsylvania soil.

In my travels I found my wife, my sons, my family.

My sisters both, and I, also lost family.

Dearest mother, took her own journey home.

The Christmas after a box arrived.

Shortbread that had always come from mother

Now came from sister.

I'm putting down my own roots now in far away Manitoba,

But she has gone on ahead,

And I never can quite catch up.

Even if I take the last journey before her,

In some sense I never will catch up.

Happy birthday to my sister,

Dearly loved and never forgotten.