By Margaret Norquay
In 1949, Margaret Norquay moved along with her new husband, a minister with the United Church of Canada, to Mayerthorpe, in northern Alberta, a village within the centre of what was once in these days a pioneer hinterland. vast Is the best way is a suite of news from their seven years there. instructed with affection and delicate humour, the tales hide the demanding situations, heartaches, and delights of a tender group and a minister and his spouse in a truly new marriage. issues contain the event of orphan young ones despatched to paintings on Western farms, manoeuvring for a restroom downtown for farmers’ better halves wanting a spot to alter their infants whereas their husbands did enterprise, facing the RCMP over liquor present in the church basement, and the generosity of spirit proven by means of the neighborhood to the Norquays. during the e-book, Margaret Norquay’s indomitable spirit and resolution are obvious and illustrate her passionate trust in making confident switch and having enjoyable whereas doing it.
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Additional resources for Broad Is the Way: Stories from Mayerthorpe (Life Writing)
This time it was my husband’s turn. In addition to the usual comments about how Canadian soldiers had given their lives for their country, Jim felt moved to express his disappointment that the room above the pool hall was 44 Nobody Asked Me to Buy a Ticket being used regularly for gambling—for poker games. He said that he was particularly saddened to know that the games had been organized by the town merchants, most of whom were veterans of the First World War. They were setting a bad example and had already caused hardship to some young families whose fathers, veterans of the Second World War, were having trouble paying gambling debts.
The Saturday of the draw, we couldn’t go to the Anglican Ladies’ bake sale because we were expected at our closest neighbouring church, the United Church in Sangudo, a few miles down the highway. When we got home about 5:30, I realized we were out of bread and dashed to the bakery, hoping it would still be open. When I entered, Mrs. Climie greeted me with a broad smile. “Mrs. Norquay, congratulations! ” My heart sank. Downtown Saturday in Mayerthorpe, news travels at the speed of light. I rushed out, almost running down the street toward the manse, only to meet two of the Anglican ladies coming from the other direction.
Today, Jim wanted to put in stakes, marking where the shelter would stand, so that the building could start once spring seeding was finished and he could get some volunteers from the farming community to help. Most farmers would be able to help for only a day or two, but the shelter would have to be finished before haying started. He was planning one experimental camp for the middle of July, hoping for an enthusiastic response, which might engender support for something better. After he’d staked out the place for the building, he thought he’d better figure out where to put a makeshift outhouse.