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An unbroken treasure, which we knew could be returned for money.

I was sitting on the back patio on a Sunday afternoon enjoying the Spring weather, when I heard an old truck coming down the back lane. Then I heard an excited 10-year-old voice say, “Dad! Dad! Wow! Look at this piece of iron.” It was a junk man and his 10-year-old son picking up discarded recyclables. Our neighbourhood is great for putting reusable items out in the lane to be claimed by anyone who can use them again or, in the case of metal, recycle them.

The young boy’s enthusiasm, and spending quality time with his father were heartwarming. It sent me back in time to my own youth. To supplement the family income in between fishing seasons, my father worked for Gunnar Johnson’s Livery stable. Gunnar was the local drayman and lake freighter. Horses were a critical resource in the town - this was a time when there were few roads and horses did the majority of hauling heavy items and farming was still mainly horse-powered.

(Gunnar’s horse barns were located on Second Avenue near the site of the current Gimli Theatre. The barns burnt down years later in a spectacular and tragic fire and many horses died in the conflagration.)

My father did not particularly like horses, looking after them was a means to an end, a job that helped him look after his family. Family was the most important thing to my father and while he was always working on something, he would look for opportunities for us to do things together. So, on Sundays in the Spring before white fishing started, he would load my brother and I on a sleigh for some priceless quality time. He would take the team of horses to his brother Siborg’s farm west of Gimli and we would load up cord wood to sell in town. All Gimli used wood in those days, so there was a ready market for the wood. On the way back, my brother and I walked in the ditch picking returnable bottles, yelling out whenever we came across an unbroken treasure which we knew could be returned for money.

In those days, Harry Greenberg rented the old Parish Hall where he showed movies. Our efforts hunting for bottles guaranteed that our parents did not have to spend their hard-earned Depression Era coins to take us to the movies.

Recycling bottles, loading wood, delivering papers, selling fish we caught – these things taught me that having fun with family and hard work are not mutually exclusive. In fact, they most often go together. Like the junkman in the back lane, some of the best times with my own kids involved doing ‘work’ around the house or at community events. However you choose to make your way in the world, I highly recommend the value of family time with a generous sprinkle of productive work - you never know what treasures you will make, while making some wonderful memories.

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Ken Kristjanson

April 2018