My First of Many Moves

I was 5 years old, and it was time to move on. It would the first of many moves in my life. It is interesting to talk to people who say they were born and raised in one area. You usually can tell too, because they do not have the experiences and the adventures that those of of us who have moved around have obtained. Not saying that they are a little close minded, and somewhat unaware of life, I am just saying they do not fully understand what you can experience as you move through life. Even in the early 60's, it was starting to show that a small farm such as ours was not going to sustain a family. Because we were strictly into grain farming and had no animals, meant that we were fairly limited on what income was coming in. In addition to that, it was apparent that my Dad was extremely allergic to the very thing that he was working with and that was grain. It did not matter if it was wheat, oats, or barley - it caused him to scratch and itch something fierce and you could see that those days of wheat farming were coming to a close. I am sure included with all of this was the fact that my sister Denise had also come on to the scene, and I was to start Kindergarten in the Fall of that year.

So the answer was to move. The decision was made to move into the closest town, where my Grandparents had a house. We purchased a house on the north end of the town, a town with an Indian name called Waseca. It was a Cree name for "hill of the swan". I have no idea what the Indians were smoking at that time of naming, but there was neither a hill or a swan around. Never was from my days there. But who said names have to make sense. So there it was, a new place to live in a village of 100 people ( the town boomed, 47 years later there are 144 residents !! ) with a name of Waseca, Saskatchewan. A red headed boy in Indian country !! Waseca was 15 km east of Maidstone where I was born and the farm was about 12 km northwest of Waseca. As I said earlier, the house was at the north end of the village. On that same street, my Grandparents lived on the south end. It was very convenient to walk or ride a bike down that road. To a young boy it seemed like a long way but in the whole spectrum of things it was probably less then 1 km. Still close enough to taste the incredible goodness of my Grandmother's cooking which I will never forget !! Moving can be a pain, but moving also opens up new horizons for those that are anxious for something different and new. This was one of those times, although barely old enough to remember all details, young enough to embrace all the good things that I knew would surely come to pass.