Not
a very long street, just off a major arterial, it is shaped like a
question mark. At the conclusion of the bulge it meanders into another
street. One half of the street backs onto a heavily wooded ravine, a
neighbourhood treasure, though few of the street's residents quite
recognize its value, nor make use of its propinquity. It cleanses the
air everyone breathes, it hosts birds and wildlife and presents a
treasury of wildflowers throughout the seasons. At
one time the street, part of a larger suburban community, shared a
small-town address. It has long since been subsumed into the greater
national capital of the country, through a wide-ranging amalgamation of
communities and even farms. The street and the houses on it were built
two and a half decades ago. The domiciles are comprised mostly of
single-family, detached dwellings, with a handful of semis verging on
the main thoroughfare. Many
of the residents are the original home purchasers. They would comprise
roughly 50% of the residents of the street. The semis appear to have
changed hands far more often than the detached homes. And those homes
that have been re-sold have often enjoyed a succession of owners. The
original home owners who moved into their houses when their children
were small have mostly bid farewell to now-grown children. The
street represents an amalgam of family types, and there is a
significant percentage at this time, of retired people, singly and in
couples who, though their houses are meant for family occupation, still
opt to remain in their too-large, but comfortable and familiar and
valued homes. It is a very quiet street, with little traffic other than
those who live there. The house fronts are diverse, and attractive. Most
residents take care of their homes, seeing them as their primary
investments. Furnaces have been replaced, and air conditioners, and also
windows. Kitchens and bathrooms have been remodelled, and people have
added decks and occasionally airy 'summer houses' to the backs of their
homes. One-third of the homes boast swimming pools, in-ground and
above-ground. Most
people take pride in their properties, and feel they must achieve lawns
that are weedless and smoothly green. Some painstakingly remove weeds
by hand in the spring, others hire lawn-care companies to spread
chemicals on their lawns. Invariably, the people who look after their
own gardens and lawns have superior gardens and lawns. Each house has a
large tree planted in front; maples, ash,crabapples, spruce or pine,
fully mature. This
is a community that is truly mixed, representing people from around the
world, come to Canada as immigrants, settled and making the most of
opportunities open to all its citizens in a free and open society noted
for its pluralism and dedication to fair representation. There are the
extroverts and the introverts, those who prefer not to mingle, others
who do. They are herewith loosely sketched:
This is the eleventh part of the anatomy of The Street.
From Newfoundland, she bright and cheery, he slightly reserved in a shy, not standoffish way, until he found his social comfort level, balanced with familiarity in time. Drawn to this place, and their new home, by the emerging high-tech environment, and he an enterprising IT entrepreneur. As an experienced nurse, she found quick employment in a local hospital.
Two very young children, a girl seldom seen out of doors, and her younger brother, always out of doors. Shy children, but well-adjusted and politely socialized. They got on well with the other young children on the street, attended the same schools, did well academically, were involved in sports and little leagues; hockey for him, volleyball for her, as they grew older.
The parents enjoyed having friends over. Enjoyed even more visits from family come off the Rock to "away" to see how their errant two made out outside of the place they all held most dear. Old Nth-generation Irish, they were. Loved their good cheer, their blarney humour, their sports, their drink and their fare.
Before the children were out of elementary school they pleaded long and hard and the family consequently adopted a Nova Scotia duck troller. Red hair, just as she had, red nose, like his own, mind of its own, a reflection of them both. The children who had pledged so earnestly they would care for the barking beast were soon disenchanted with its faded novelty.
Walks were seldom, few and far between, though the ravined forest and its trails were so close. Beckoning to the dog, but not its owners. The dog broke away from its tie-out on the front lawn occasionally to take itself for recreational runs there in the ravine, irking them no end, as they had then to venture into the ravine to call it out.
Finally, when the first of what was to become three bouts of breast cancer struck her, the family, harried with concern, gave up the dog to someone willing and eager to take it, to the relief of all concerned. Her ongoing ordeal unleashed the dragon in her. Those serial onslaughts of the misery of battling cancer, and her professional knowledge enabled her to muster a level of courage and strength she hardly was aware she possessed.
Surgery, chemotherapy, weight loss, weight gain, appetite vanished, physical distress, mental disorientation, all summarily dismissed. Even as her hopes sank each time the cancer returned to rage its inchoate madness throughout her body, she informed her fearful family time and again they would not lose her, she would not leave them.
Hair loss, misery, nausea and dizziness were symptoms she slighted, intent on destroying the malediction within her before it could destroy her. And she prevailed. Her husband, encouraging her overtly, smiling, genial as ever, privately braced himself for the worst possible outcome, even as he boasted that his wife had triple the strength, endurance and courage he was capable of.
Their children became subdued, moody, even when with their friends, lapsing into normal life enjoyment for young people, would suddenly stop, eyes momentarily vacant, wondering could they laugh again so readily if they lost their mother. But they did not, though the chasm between normalcy and despair was not so soon forgotten. Even as they moved on, relief restoring the blase assurance of the young.
They, the children, branched into early adulthood, then achieved independent security of self. The son, off to university down east, to Mount Allison University, to become a geologist. The daughter to marry, have her own home, not far from her parents. And they acquired another branch of extended family, finding much in common with the new in-laws.
The mother left nursing, established a new career as a pharmaceutical salesperson. Began to travel widely with her job. Her work interfered with her time for participating in breast cancer survivors' dragon-boat races. Her team had been highly successful, winning often. Even travelling as far as Singapore and Hong Kong, Arizona and Vancouver, to compete.
She had changed in many ways. An already gregarious personality, she had become even more outgoing, fearful of nothing. Her once luxuriant hair never did grow back completely. Thin patches of red-blond hair covered her scalp, but she expressed no interest whatever in wearing a wig. That wasn't her. She laughed blithely, called it a small price.
Her husband resigned himself to her constant travel, for recreation-competition and for her work. She was good at what she did. Her enthusiasm was infectious. She was amply rewarded by the pharmaceutical firm she represented by a series of promotions. Her husband took pride in everything she did. He would return from work, do domestic things around the house, keeping it in good order for her return.
He proudly informed anyone who cared to hear that her earning power had long since eclipsed his. Thanks to what she brought home, they paid off their mortgage, bought new vehicles, went on pricey vacations and ate out often. He was lonely from time to time, but when she was home he appreciated her all the more. They threw wild and wonderful parties for their friends; Grey cup, birthdays, Canada Day.
They finally decided to buy another property. A summer cottage in the Quebec highlands, not far from where their daughter's parents-in-law had theirs, near Mount Ste.Marie. And they were mad for life at the cottage. Began a new life-style there. They have now two homes, together, where their hearts are, replacing their beloved Newfoundland.
This is the eleventh part of the anatomy of The Street.
From Newfoundland, she bright and cheery, he slightly reserved in a shy, not standoffish way, until he found his social comfort level, balanced with familiarity in time. Drawn to this place, and their new home, by the emerging high-tech environment, and he an enterprising IT entrepreneur. As an experienced nurse, she found quick employment in a local hospital.
Two very young children, a girl seldom seen out of doors, and her younger brother, always out of doors. Shy children, but well-adjusted and politely socialized. They got on well with the other young children on the street, attended the same schools, did well academically, were involved in sports and little leagues; hockey for him, volleyball for her, as they grew older.
The parents enjoyed having friends over. Enjoyed even more visits from family come off the Rock to "away" to see how their errant two made out outside of the place they all held most dear. Old Nth-generation Irish, they were. Loved their good cheer, their blarney humour, their sports, their drink and their fare.
Before the children were out of elementary school they pleaded long and hard and the family consequently adopted a Nova Scotia duck troller. Red hair, just as she had, red nose, like his own, mind of its own, a reflection of them both. The children who had pledged so earnestly they would care for the barking beast were soon disenchanted with its faded novelty.
Walks were seldom, few and far between, though the ravined forest and its trails were so close. Beckoning to the dog, but not its owners. The dog broke away from its tie-out on the front lawn occasionally to take itself for recreational runs there in the ravine, irking them no end, as they had then to venture into the ravine to call it out.
Finally, when the first of what was to become three bouts of breast cancer struck her, the family, harried with concern, gave up the dog to someone willing and eager to take it, to the relief of all concerned. Her ongoing ordeal unleashed the dragon in her. Those serial onslaughts of the misery of battling cancer, and her professional knowledge enabled her to muster a level of courage and strength she hardly was aware she possessed.
Surgery, chemotherapy, weight loss, weight gain, appetite vanished, physical distress, mental disorientation, all summarily dismissed. Even as her hopes sank each time the cancer returned to rage its inchoate madness throughout her body, she informed her fearful family time and again they would not lose her, she would not leave them.
Hair loss, misery, nausea and dizziness were symptoms she slighted, intent on destroying the malediction within her before it could destroy her. And she prevailed. Her husband, encouraging her overtly, smiling, genial as ever, privately braced himself for the worst possible outcome, even as he boasted that his wife had triple the strength, endurance and courage he was capable of.
Their children became subdued, moody, even when with their friends, lapsing into normal life enjoyment for young people, would suddenly stop, eyes momentarily vacant, wondering could they laugh again so readily if they lost their mother. But they did not, though the chasm between normalcy and despair was not so soon forgotten. Even as they moved on, relief restoring the blase assurance of the young.
They, the children, branched into early adulthood, then achieved independent security of self. The son, off to university down east, to Mount Allison University, to become a geologist. The daughter to marry, have her own home, not far from her parents. And they acquired another branch of extended family, finding much in common with the new in-laws.
The mother left nursing, established a new career as a pharmaceutical salesperson. Began to travel widely with her job. Her work interfered with her time for participating in breast cancer survivors' dragon-boat races. Her team had been highly successful, winning often. Even travelling as far as Singapore and Hong Kong, Arizona and Vancouver, to compete.
She had changed in many ways. An already gregarious personality, she had become even more outgoing, fearful of nothing. Her once luxuriant hair never did grow back completely. Thin patches of red-blond hair covered her scalp, but she expressed no interest whatever in wearing a wig. That wasn't her. She laughed blithely, called it a small price.
Her husband resigned himself to her constant travel, for recreation-competition and for her work. She was good at what she did. Her enthusiasm was infectious. She was amply rewarded by the pharmaceutical firm she represented by a series of promotions. Her husband took pride in everything she did. He would return from work, do domestic things around the house, keeping it in good order for her return.
He proudly informed anyone who cared to hear that her earning power had long since eclipsed his. Thanks to what she brought home, they paid off their mortgage, bought new vehicles, went on pricey vacations and ate out often. He was lonely from time to time, but when she was home he appreciated her all the more. They threw wild and wonderful parties for their friends; Grey cup, birthdays, Canada Day.
They finally decided to buy another property. A summer cottage in the Quebec highlands, not far from where their daughter's parents-in-law had theirs, near Mount Ste.Marie. And they were mad for life at the cottage. Began a new life-style there. They have now two homes, together, where their hearts are, replacing their beloved Newfoundland.
No comments:
Post a Comment