Tag: Arborg

How a Marble Led to My Deviated Septum

A white marble caused my deviated septum.

Growing up, I was obsessed by a handful of games and toys. Breaking Point was the ultimate. Balancing individual blue balls with thin sticks on a hanging rack of connected white balls. It was the perfect game for my concentration and lung development, since I’d wail at the top of my lungs whenever I lost.

Playing with Little People was serious business / Photo credit: A brave mother

My overall favourite were my Fisher Price Little People. I’d spend hours playing with them and my treasured Tomy Merry-Go-Copter. The concept: Little People travelled via elevator and boarded a helicopter. The Copter dropped them onto a train. Similar to Queen Elizabeth and 007’s entrance during the 2012 London Summer Games.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MzdTi7pXsbA

Board games? It was Mr. Mouth and Quick, Jump, It’s a Skunk.

I was obsessed by that Skunk Game. I’d watch the little white marbles roll when they were knocked by the skunk paddles. They’d disappear for a second then reappear. Where did they go? It was a mesmerizing game of split-second peek-a-boo.

Somehow we misplaced a marble, resulting in an uneven number. Literally an odd ball. So, I took the marble to sleep on my pillow at bedtime. The next morning, I placed the marble back in the box. But the lost ball hadn’t returned. Again, the same marble slept on my pillow. For awhile.

Continue reading “How a Marble Led to My Deviated Septum”

Pack Up, Class of 1994 – You’re Retiring in Arborg

It’s an idyllic thought.

The other night, when a childhood friend and I were messaging, retirement entered the conversation. We laughed about a fleeting thought, then when I went to bed, I expanded on their idea.

Because wouldn’t it be awesome if the entire Class of 1994 returned to our small Manitoba town to retire? Back to the Town of Arborg?

twkgrad11
Continue reading “Pack Up, Class of 1994 – You’re Retiring in Arborg”

From DJ to ETA: The Unique Journey of Manitoba’s Dave Greene

Subscribe to continue reading

Subscribe to get access to the rest of this post and other subscriber-only content.

When You Sell a House, You Keep the Memories

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is pxl_20210919_212239063_3.jpg
Saying goodbye

My parents built their dream house.

A home in the woods. Surrounded by trails and bulrushes – and black bears.

Which means they sold their house and acreage on Highway 68. The acreage even had its own business name, “Karatchuk Acres.”

On September 30th, mom and dad went to their former home. One last time before the new owners took possession. They walked around the yards, reminiscing, taking photos. Sending selfies with, “Saying goodbye.” When my dad was ten months old, he moved to that acreage. My mom, since she was eighteen, and the three of us girls since birth.

Everything went with the sale. The front garden, flowerbeds, the apple trees. Sheds, garages, and silos. The red-weathered barn at the end of the driveway.

The middle portion is the the original house, seen above.
We moved into the rear bi-level bedrooms on New Year’s Day, 1988.
The front sunroom was completed in 2013. It replaced the brown south-facing deck and the main entrance,

With the sale also went a huge west yard where my first childhood home stood.

In 1985, my parents sold our 600 sq.ft. little house and we relocated to my late paternal grandparents house on the same acreage. The little house was lifted from the foundation, set onto a moving trailer, and transported to Eriksdale, Manitoba and its new owners.

But this is different.

When I visit my parents, I’ll see my childhood to cusp of adulthood home. But from the outside – and afar.

Continue reading “When You Sell a House, You Keep the Memories”