By Lorna (Rogers) Finstad – Armstrong, B.C.
As a preteen in the 1930s, Saturday evening in town was special. Mother would hurry into Moore’s grocery store for a few food staples and a visit with friends and neighbours.
Dad would pick up the mail – The Western Producer and Winnipeg Free Press, and perhaps letters from Ontario relatives.
Meanwhile, my sisters and I would scan up and down the main street to see if the Danroth girls might be in town as well.
We attended different country schools so to be with them was an added highlight of this outing.
When it was time to leave for home, dad had one last item at the machine shop and mother and we girls were in the car which was parked in front of the post office and poolhall.
It was interesting to watch as a few curious people would come along, peek through an odd spot where the green paint had been scratched off the inside of the poolhall windows.
We girls knew this place was out-of-bounds for us. I never did know what it looked like inside.
One evening Mac Burton, who suffered hearing loss from the war, came along. He was a friendly chap who had homesteaded the same time as my grandparents had in that area.
He reached way into the driver’s window to greet mom and family. Unknown to Mac, he had his elbow on the horn and was speaking to us in his loud voice.
Mother excitedly tried to let him know just what was happening, causing her embarrassment as those on the street and inside shops were looking our way.
We could laugh about that later.