I moved to Athabasca, Alberta, at the end of June, 1957. Athabasca is a small town about ninety miles north of Edmonton in northern Alberta. It has a big river (the Athabasca) flowing past, but it's a good distance from Lake Athabasca: about 350 miles if you wanted to float there. The river is the longest in Alberta and the lake is large but most of it is in Saskatchewan.
I had just graduated from University School, a private boarding school in Victoria, B.C. I'd been going to that school, as a boarder, for the past seven years, (since the age of nine,) while my father, a single parent, had been working as the Cariboo regional Medical Health Officer for the British Columbia government in Prince George.
This is a lot of information for someone unfamiliar with my world to take in, I know, but just stay with me. I was sixteen years old and had never been to a public school, never been to school with girls, had a brother, Peter (3 and 1/2 years older), but never had friends outside of my boarding school. I was planning on going to the University of B.C. in Vancouver that September.
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| My father, dressed for the weather in Prince George. |
We drove from Prince George, in central British Columbia, to Athabasca soon after I arrived "home" from boarding school. I wrote "home" that way because for nine months each year the school was my home: my bedroom shared with seven or eight others; my living room quite communal and the kitchen and dining room was the domain of a professional chef.
Athabasca represented a continuation of the Prince George experience. I expected to spend most of my summer solo, since I didn't know anybody and was shy of going out and meeting new people.
However, my life was changed completely when John Richel turned up at the front door of my dad's rented house. I had been in Athabasca for a few days, my dad was probably at work, and I could have been reading a book. I did that quite a lot.
Suddenly here was this force of nature at the door, telling me who I was, asking me if I'd like to jump in his delivery van (he had a part-time job as delivery boy for a local grocer) and immediately threatening to take me over. In a nice way. John was blond, wore glasses, was about 6 feet tall, strongly built and slightly bow-legged. He had a ready smile and a charming lack of shyness. His father, a big man named Nestor, later played bridge regularly with my father. His mother was warm and friendly, a perfect example for me who'd never had a mother at all.
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| House party at Doc Wrights. Town kids. |
The teenagers loved the rock'n'roll set: it was the heyday of Elvis, Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Fats Domino and Jerry Lee Lewis. I had just come from an urban environment and was familiar with Buddy Holly's "That'll Be the Day," which the country bumpkins had never heard of. In those days certain places heard pop music ahead of other places, a concept which would be hard to conceive of in the 21st century. Anyway, I actually taught the band to play "That'll Be the Day," and this gave me a certain je ne sais quoi. At the time I had not learned to play guitar, so this was quite an achievement for me and for the bandleader's son, whose name I have forgotten.
As for names of the kids in the above photo, which is the only picture I have from my year in Athabasca: on the left. half of a person names Cremer. Next, the guy with a white car coat, is the youngest Fix brother. His father Charlie Fix owned a service station in town. I believe this was Junior Fix. He had older brothers, Alan and Don.
Now for the gals: In the rear, leaning backwards, I believe is Sandy's (John
Richel's steady) younger sister; perhaps Jane. On the sofa, rear right, Cathy Philipzyk and Patricia, last name not coming to me. And in the foreground, Erin Wright, adopted daughter on Dr. Wright, town doctor who owned a DeSoto and also had a son Jamie who we called Doc. Erin was my girlfriend sometimes. I think she had issues, perhaps traceable to being adopted. (shrug).
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