Well, we did go into Edmonton and had a most wonderful time and a big shopping spree. We saw our friends, the Fitkins, there. I remember Joyce taking me with her and her friends to a dance one night. They were amazed when a handsome young man excused himself to his girl and came to dance with me. Joyce said they'd all been trying to get him to notice them and here I was (from the sticks I knew they meant) and he asked me to dance. It was simple! He'd been one of the surveyors during the summer and visited us and ate with us many times. He had told me about the girl he had in the city and we were just friends, but it made quite an impression on my friends. We stayed in the city only long enough for Dad to buy all the things he needed and then left for the end of the line, again. Winter had come in earnest while we were away, it was way below zero and the snow was piled several feet deep with the drifts even deeper.

We had to stay in one of the camps, which were deserted now, until Dad could get our cabin built. I should explain, there were three camps, Camp No. 1, then our camp, and then Camp No. 2. I don't know why it wasn't just camp number 1-2-3, maybe ours was different, run by a family, with home cooking. Anyway, our camp was not a number, but a place where everyone from the other camps came to visit on Sunday.

While we were staying at this camp, Dad came home from working on our house and said there was to be a big dance. He'd promised we'd go, but the weather was much too cold for any of the rest to go out. So Dad took me, all bundled up over my finery. He was so gallant when we got there, kneeling to pull off my boots and slip my dancing slippers on. It was here that they named me 'Queen of the North', a name that stuck for quite a while, and I got teased about it often. As I've said, there were few girls and many men there!

Dad had a hired man who wanted to take me, but I wouldn't go with him unless all the family went. So he stayed home to care for Mom and the family and Dad took me. I didn't trust Bert. He was one of 24 children. Now that isn't the reason I didn't trust him, it was because he wouldn't keep his hands off me!

Bert was a good worker and Dad and all the rest like him, but I was a little afraid of him. I had to get up first and get breakfast ready and he'd get up and follow me from kitchen to dining room trying to grab me and kiss me. I asked Mom to have Dad get up when I did, but she said there was no need because Bert got up and shook up the front room fire to get things warm. So I told her I didn't like to be up alone with Bert and I wished Dad would fire him. She said Bert was too good a worker to be fired. So I had to try and fend him off every morning and get my work done too. He finally told me if I didn't promise to marry him he'd kill all my folks and never would he let me marry anyone else! Mom must've finally told Dad what I said because one morning there stood Dad, watching Bert try to maul me as I worked. He was so angry! Bert said, "But I love her and want to marry her." Dad looked at me, almost in tears and shaking my head no. So Bert got fired, at last.

I had three proposals of marriage that summer. Two from surveyors and one from what we knew as 'a black sheep' from Britain. There were people whose families had shipped them to Canada and sent remittance money to regularly. Sometimes they were called remittance men, I believe. The surveyors I really liked, but didn't want to marry. The other one, I didn't feel too flattered by his proposal.

When Dad got the log house up and furnished we moved in. [Ray White finished the house during the summer of 1921 (Woodard, 1987)] It seemed great to have real furniture again. It was quite large for those days with a big front room, kitchen, dining room and three bedrooms. Also a back porch! Now we had only family and one or two hired men, so I really enjoyed myself. The country was so big, very beautiful and the seasons change so swiftly. Summer days are so long, daylight almost all of the 24 hours. We seemed to dance away many evenings and take walks to the river to watch the boats come in. Many times we walked the rails on the railway. And the wild roses were everywhere, filling the air with their lovely scent. Winter days were not long, the sun hardly coming up before it went down. In fall the foliage turned so fast, you'd go to bed one night with everything green and next morning the leaves would be a riot of colors. Mom loved the fall. Spring was always so muddy at first with all the snow melting, though we had wooden sidewalks. Crossing the street was almost impossible without boots. When we'd go to a party the, all dressed in our finery, we'd wear our boots and carry our slippers. Summer was a joyous time except for the storms and mosquitoes. We rode to McMurray and shopped and visited Opal, her father and brothers who had settled there.

Mac was the policeman always on duty in Waterways. He was engaged to a girl in the city and hoped to bring her here as his wife. He never got to do that because of the fire. When Mac had his vacation he'd get someone to take his place, so that was how I met Jack. We had a lot of good times together and after many proposals, I finally felt here was a man I'd like to marry, so I said yes. When we went to tell Mom and Dad, men still asked permission of the parents for a girl's hand in those days, Dad said he surely hoped we'd be very happy. Mom said, "But who's going to take care of me and do the work if she leaves?" Jack and I assured her it wouldn't be for a while and Dad said to Mom, "When a child is ready to marry you should let them go and wish them luck. No matter how much you need or will miss them. After all, that's what we did." So Mom gave in and we were engaged.

Once, when we went to a dance while we were still in Waterways, a girl about my age came in with an older man and a young girl about seven or eight. I didn't know them and wondered about that because most everyone came to the dances. It was a community get-together. Both the young woman and little girl were beautiful blondes, but the thing I noticed most was their quietness and the sad look in their eyes. The older one danced some, the little one sitting with the children and the man standing close to the men who were not dancing. I talked to the girls some, but they seemed so reserved, almost a quiet desperation. Mom told me later that when the man's wife died the man had taken his young daughter to wife and the child was theirs! How could a father do that to his child? It was not only wrong, but made her a virtual prisoner on his isolated ranch. People up north minded their own business, but these three were almost pointedly shunned, especially the man.

Our hotel was filled to bursting every time the boats or the train came in, long before it was finished. It was made in two parts, one the hotel with lobby, office, dining room, and kitchen downstairs with rooms upstairs. The other side was completely separate though under the same roof. It was the Provincial Police Headquarters with living space, office and a cell for prisoners. There was only one other place to rent rooms in Waterways and though it was there first, our hotel always filled up first. I suppose that was why Dad never did get to completely finish it. One night, when it was full up and we were all sound asleep Dad woke up with the crackle of fire in his ears. He ran upstairs knocking on doors and there was only time for the guests to grab something, anything, to cover themselves and get out. One poor gentleman had a dreadful time finding trousers big enough so that he would be covered when he got on the train for Edmonton.

This fire was the last straw, the blow Dad couldn't take and start over again. We stayed for about a week, then we packed our clothes and left for Edmonton. We were going home to the USA. Our friends and neighbors were all so wonderful to us. I especially remember Mr. and Mrs. Rae being extra specially nice. They all hated to see us leave, but we felt we must.

When we got to Edmonton, Jack met our train and took us to our hotel. We were here for a week or two visiting our friends and buying clothes. It was here that I bought one of the most beautiful dresses I have ever owned.

Dad decided we'd go to Oregon, but when we stopped off at Spokane, Washington he took a walk while we waited at the depot and he fell in love with the beauty of the place and decided to stay there. This was October 1922.

While we were in Edmonton Jack wanted us to be married. He felt that if we were separated for too long a time we'd never be married and he was right. Distance does make the heart grow fonder, usually for someone else, so we drifted apart. I met and fell in love and was married to Bud over fifty years ago.

All of us finally made it to Oregon and have been here for over fifty years now. I still think it is one of the most beautiful spots on God's earth and hope to spend the rest of my days here.

I'm sure that all the rest of my family have very different memories of our years in the North. Put all of them together and it would be the real story. But these are a small part of my memories of things, seen through my eyes. I know we all learned a lot about self-reliance, tolerance, how to enjoy life, and see beauty both in people and nature. What we lacked in formal education (the only thing I've always been sorry we missed) we made up by being educated in how to enjoy work, not waste any motion in getting it done, assuming responsibility when it came our way, and how "not to fume and fret and fuss, if things get changed they might get wuss!"

I think our lives in the North gave all of us great reserves of inner strength.