Small-town Canada is changing, but the old spirit of helping each other out lives on. Living as we do half-way across the world, that’s at least some comfort when things go wrong and we can’t be there.
As she told me on the phone last night, my mother was walking on the main street of the town she lives in half-way between Vancouver and Whistler four days ago when she misjudged the curb, fell forward, smashed her head on the ground, broke her glasses, and ended up with a black eye and scrapes on her arms and knees.
That’s because you don’t hang around in the local bars, I tell her.
Yeah, I know, she says, and laughs a bit.
Then she adds:
I was on the way to the post office to mail that package for (the little red-haired girl’s) birthday when it happened. One of the guys stayed with me and the other went back to his truck for a first aid kit and they bandaged me up. Oh, and two ladies who saw it all from the insurance company office on the corner came out and were quite upset. They stayed and made sure I was all right, though. They helped me get to the post office, and then one of them drove my car home for me.
They even drove you home?
Sure, they were really worried about me, because with the broken glasses I couldn’t get back into the car and drive anymore.