I was doing a little retail therapy online the other day and found someone selling vintage Pyrex mugs that took me back in time.  The picture on my computer screen had my mind racing backwards to when I was a little girl living at Candle Lake.   By that time I was a third generation DePeel living in the small resort village and some of my best memories were made while we lived there.

We had wood ducks that lived in the attic. There were two entry ways to access the attic and both required a ladder to reach them.  If a person did make the effort to go up there it wouldn’t be to find any treasures.  Dad had wanted to open a café but the health inspector didn’t approve the materials used to cover the interior walls.  So, Dad buried the dream and stored the stools he was going to use for seating at the counter up in the attic.  They never did get used but I’m sure if he’d tried once more his restaurant would have been a success.

We had a huge shed that we used to store empty bee hives that were ready to replace full boxes filled with honey.  Whenever we brought the hives with honey home, we’d immediately have bears visiting our home.  It wasn’t uncommon for Dad to be leaving for work at 4:30 in the morning and have to wait for a bear to leave the front step before he was able to proceed.  Bears were a favourite part of my growing up.  We’d often go to the garbage dump to watch them rifling through the refuse looking for food.  But it could get scary too.  People would come with cameras and try to manipulate the animals into posing for them, searching for that elusive “perfect” snapshot to add to their photo album.  I remember one man who kept going closer and closer to the bear.  My Dad got out of our vehicle and warned him to stay back.  The bear was hungry and anything was food, even a tall skinny man with very little meat on his bones.  The man ignored my father and took two more steps forward.  That was all the incentive the bear needed to growl and half-heartedly run at the man.  The man screamed and tripped over garbage in his attempt to retreat to safety.  Fortunately the bear recognized there was more nutritional value in the scraps he’d been eating than there was in the scrawny, terrified man who was now stinky from refuse of his own.  He might not have captured a photo to remember the bear by but I’m sure he’ll never forget the laundry he had to do that night, or maybe he threw his clothes out altogether.  Either way I’d like to think he learned his lesson to stay away from dangerous wild animals.

Living at Candle Lake in the late 70’s and early 80’s was very different than it is now.  My mother was a home-maker until I was about eight.  Then she worked as a cook and wait staff at the Way-out Inn and Candle Castle Restaurant.  There were no cell phones or computers then and social media happened in the early morning at the local restaurant.  The ‘cream of the crop’ or, as I like to refer to them, “the ton”, met around the small square tables with mugs of hot coffee fortifying them as much as their steaming conversation did.  Each morning the ‘who’s who’ of the locals gathered to discuss the happenings of the community, each person hoping their news wouldn’t be overshadowed or worse, divulged, before they had a chance to bring it up in conversation.  And no subject was ever too taboo.  Everything was discussed and lamented over, chewed until the subject ran out of flavour and then another salacious component to the story sparked another feeding frenzy on the subject once again.  “Did you hear the community confirmed bachelor is engaged?  I don’t know her name, she’s not from around here.  When did that happen?  Three nights ago.  They’ve broken up already, why?  She cheated with another resident of our community… well, that’s what happens when you get together and drink!  He should have married her first!  And then she’d take (confirmed bachelor) for everything he has… no, better he found out now.  I think I’ll take him a casserole for dinner.”  No doubt to find out more juicy details but also to be kind, I think.  And should that person enter the restaurant in mid-sentence, the silence permeating the air could have been sliced like butter with a hot knife.  There was no mistaking the awkwardness or the excitement of the moment as each person watched the subject of their gossipy conversation, filing away observations to serve as further inspiration for the conversations they’d have tomorrow morning.  And as the subject settled down with their own beverage of choice an animated conversation began regarding the weather, local politics or even the strength of the coffee they drank from their cups.  Everyone seemed to have an opinion about something but, at the end of the day, it was these same folks who came together and helped when there was somebody in need, whether it was a ride to the city or a banana loaf delivered “just because” they supported one another with a genuine concern that even gossip was unable to supersede.

Those Pyrex mugs took me back to a time when, on the weekends when Dad returned from being away for work, our family sat down at the table and ate our meals together.  It was where we studied the Bible, did our homework and spent hours colouring in colouring books, playing card games like Cribbage, Solitaire, Kaiser and Save the Ten.  It was where my Dad sat on his wooden chair reading a Louis L’Amour western, drinking coffee from his Pyrex cup.  This was the table where my mother would place her beautiful blue roaster, half filled with warm water and bits of lard melting in the water.  Beside the roaster sat a clear quart sized jar with a cup of warm water and sugar.  To this mixture she added yeast.  When the lard was completely melted in the roaster, the yeast was finished growing in the jar and she’s add it to the roaster then enough flour to form the dough, which she proceeded to knead until the dough was soft, like silk.  It would rise twice before she’d form it into loaves, dinner rolls and cinnamon buns.  With eight of us in the family, homemade bread and jams was a staple for our family, and not just for breakfast.  In my opinion there is nothing tastier than Mom’s home-made bread, toasted with home-made Choke Cherry jelly or Dad’s Beefsteak tomatoes sliced and seasoned with a scant sprinkling of salt and generous dashing of Watkin’s black pepper.  Add a couple rashers of bacon and some fresh, crisp Butter crunch lettuce and it takes the sandwich to a whole other level.  And the plate the sandwich was served on? It was the pattern as the Pyrex mugs - we had the complete set and the pattern brings back so many fantastic memories.  Incredibly, even without the technology we have now, life was very busy and full of activity back then.  Just as it is now.  The difference is our life was filled with people that we saw all the time and our conversations happened in real time, face-to-face.

Thinking of all these memories, my heart is full of nostalgia and I click the button on the computer screen.  ‘Is this item still available?’ I message and hit the button to send my question.  Now I’ll wait to see if the person has sold the mug or not.  And I wonder to myself if I will put the mug in the collection that we use every day, or if I’ll add it to my collection of tea cups that I use on special days?  I think I’ll have to hold the mug in my hand to truly understand the emotional impact it will evoke, along with the memories I’ve already been thinking of.  There is a saying that advises, “You can’t go home again.”  And this is true.  When I go back to Candle Lake, I feel sad.  My childhood home is gone and where there was once Delphiniums my father planted from his Mother’s garden, and a vibrant patch of strawberries that we harvested every few days from June until frost, and a long row of Scarlet Runner beans that lined one side of the long u-shaped driveway ... now there is a modern log home and nothing to remind me of the life I once lived there.  But a mug brings everything back.  A simple mug.

What triggers “feel good” memories from your childhood?  Whatever it is, I hope it inspires you to create some classic memories with your family and friends so you have something to trigger some great memories when you least expect it.  It’s amazing how close people feel when we go on a trip down memory lane.  And more importantly how those ties have us reaching out to one another “just because.”

Take care and have a great week, everyone