Oct. 15th 1982
Thanks for your letter of October 6th that I received yesterday. Sounds like you and Lorraine are getting on quite well.
I met an interesting girl this past week. She’s Will Reimer’s daughter, her name is Kelly, and she’s a nurse in Jasper, in the Rocky Mountains.
Will invited me to join his family on Sunday for Thanksgiving supper, which is a big thing over here. People cook turkey with all the trimmings, and pumpkin pie, and have big family gatherings. There were about twelve of us at the Reimers’, including all three of Will and Sally’s children. Their oldest, Joe, had his fiancée Ellie Finlay there too. Joe is a vet and lives here in Meadowvale, but this was the first time I had met him.
Kelly is my age and very pretty, with long blond hair and a really outgoing personality. We had a good talk on Sunday night, and Monday she drove me out to Myers Lake Recreation Area, a few miles north of town. I can’t believe no one’s told me about Myers Lake until now! It’s a beautiful place with miles of walking trails by the lakeshore and through woodlands with aspen, spruce, and poplar trees. Most of the leaves have fallen from the aspens and poplars, but spruce are evergreen, as you know, so the effect was really striking. Kelly’s an outdoor sort of person and really likes walking, so as you can imagine we hit it off quite nicely.
You’ll also be interested to hear that she seems to be on a spiritual journey. She walked away from her Mennonite church background for a few years, but now she seems to be trying to find her way back in. She and I had an interesting talk about Christianity and Jesus – very much like the kind of talks you and I have been having over the last few years. I also discovered that Mennonites don’t baptize babies; you have to be an adult so that you know what you’re doing. I suppose I knew that there were Christians who believed that, but I’ve never spoken to one of them before (not that Kelly is a Christian at the moment, or at least, not yet).
When we got back to my place after our walk she asked me to play her some music, so I got the guitar out and sang her some of our traditional songs – ‘The Snow it Melts the Soonest’, ‘Lord Franklin’, ‘John Barleycorn’and a couple of others. She likes music, but like most people here she doesn’t know much about traditional folk music. She seemed to enjoy it though. I ended up giving her some lunch, and later on she took me over to visit her grandmother, Will’s mother; her name is Erika Reimer and she was born in Russia. Apparently there was some sort of major persecution of Mennonites in Russia under Lenin in the early 1920s and a lot of them fled the country if they could. Will’s parents came here in 1924, broke the land, and built a homestead. She was telling me about some of their experiences in those early days; all I can say is, those people must have been tough.
I think Kelly went back to Jasper on Wednesday. Last night I was doing some marking after supper when there was a knock on the door and her brother Joe was there. Apparently he had enjoyed meeting me on Sunday night and wanted to get to know me a little better, so I made him a pot of coffee and we chatted for an hour or so. He’s quite different from Kelly; she’s very up front, whereas he’s quieter and more reserved (more like me, in fact!). He told me some things about the history of the town and their family, and he asked me about England and Oxford. He said that Kelly had told him about our conversation. Joe, it seems, is a pretty convinced Christian, but not pushy about it. He and Ellie are getting married in the spring, and apparently she’s a bluegrass fiddler. She was born in Humboldt (a town south of here), but at the moment she’s living in Saskatoon.
I still haven’t heard anything else from Wendy, and I’m beginning to think that her omission of an exact return address on her last letter was intentional, and that she really doesn’t want to have any contact with me. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; as you know, things were totally messed up between us when I left. I wrote back to her, care of her old address, and I’m assuming her landlady would have forwarded it again, since she obviously has her London address (or how would Wendy have received my last letter?). But I think I’ve reached the point of giving up on that; if she doesn’t want to have any contact with me, there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t help feeling a little sad about it, though.
The other thing that’s really hurtful is that Becca doesn’t seem to want to know me either. I’ve continued to write to her, but Mum says that she doesn’t read my letters, she just throws them away. I don’t know what to do about that. Again, I can’t really blame her; she thought I was being totally honest with her, but all the time I was planning this move I didn’t tell her anything. I feel like I’ve really let her down and betrayed her. I wish I could talk to her and apologize and just have some sense that we could rebuild things.
My father of course has been totally silent, but then, after what he did to me, it’s up to him to make the first move. As far as I’m concerned, he’s burnt that bridge, and he can rebuild it.
How’s the hospital going? Are you going to be there for a while? I’m a little unclear about this stage of your medical training.
Well, it’s late Friday night and I’m tired after a day’s work and an evening of marking, so I’ll stop here. Write soon and give me all your news.
Flat No. 3, 76 Albert Street,
Oct. 23rd 1982
Thanks for your letter about Kelly and Joe that I received yesterday. I was up at the hospital for a twelve hour shift today so I know you’ll forgive me if I just make this a short one tonight and maybe add a bit more tomorrow. By the way, yes, I’ll be at the hospital until Christmas, and then probably in a general practice or some other medical setting for a few months after that. This two years of house officer training is supposed to give me exposure to several different sorts of medical practice before I choose a specialty, which I will then train in for a few more years. In my case, I’m already sure that I want to be a GP, but quite a few of my colleagues here haven’t made their minds up yet.
Kelly sounds delightful and it’s obvious that you enjoyed her company. And yes, I think you’re right to turn the page when it comes to Wendy. It’s hard, because the three of us have been good friends for the past two years, and you two had become much closer in the last few months. I still find it hard to believe that she went back to Mickey after all he put her through, but then, human beings are complicated and sometimes we do very strange things.
Before I forget, Dad asked to be remembered to you and he says he’ll answer your last letter when he’s had a bit more time to think about it. He seems pleased to hear from you. He and Mum are doing well.
What else have I been up to? Well, Steve and I (my brother Steve, that is, not Steve Francis) have started playing badminton together on Saturday mornings; you might remember that we used to do that when we were teenagers. Ian Redding and I went out for a drink one night; he’s at the same hospital as me but we’re not usually on the same shifts. But the biggest thing is that I’ve been getting a band together to play at church. We had our first practice this week. It’s people from the church, so you probably don’t know any of them, but just for information, this is the list so far: Dave Bradshaw on guitar and vocals, Dan Pargeter on bass, Garth Hacking on percussion, and me on guitar and vocals.
Right, bed; talk to you tomorrow.
Oct. 25th 1982
Hello again. As you can see I didn’t get right back to the letter, since yesterday I did another twelve hours at the hospital and then Lorraine and I went out for a drink last night. Afterwards we went back to her digs (you’ll remember that she lives with her sister) and she showed me some of the water colours she’s been working on. All very good, I hope she can make some money at it soon.
As for the big question: no, we’re not at the point where we’re calling each other ‘boyfriend’and ‘girlfriend’. She wants to take it slow; I get the idea she had a bad experience with someone when she was at art school, but it’s one of the many things I don’t know about her yet. You introverts can be maddeningly difficult to get to know sometimes!
I’ll be very interested to hear of any continuing conversations between you and Kelly about Christianity – or you and Joe, for that matter – although I suppose with Kelly in Jasper (which I just looked up on a map, and realized once again what an enormous country you live in!), it’s not likely the conversations will be thick and fast, is it?
Okay, that’s it for me tonight. I’ll post this tomorrow and try to do better next time. Maybe I should write to you on days off after I’ve had a good night’s sleep!
Cheers to you too,
P.O. Box 373
Oct. 28th 1982
Are you surprised to hear from me? Well, never mind; I wanted to write to tell you that I ordered that Nic Jones album you told me about, ‘Penguin Eggs’, and it came yesterday. Since then I’ve played it three times, and I absolutely love it. Nic Jones has the quintessential English folk singer’s voice, doesn’t he? Not that your voice is all that shabby, either, Tom Masefield, but this guy is amazing! And I’m obviously not qualified to comment on his guitar playing, but it sounds really good to me. What a fantastic discovery! Thank you! Does he have any more albums that I should collect?
Anyway, I’m writing to you on a day off; it’s about ten in the morning and I’m sitting in the living room of my apartment, drinking tea and looking out on a beautiful Jasper skyline. You don’t know the town, of course, but if I were to tell you that I can see Whistler’s Mountain and Mount Edith Cavell from my living room windows, that might give you an idea of what I’m looking at. I should send you a photograph; maybe I’ll do that next time. There’s been snowfall high in the mountains for the last few days, and we’ve had some in town too, although it looks like a warm day today so it might melt. But I’m starting to get excited about Marmot Basin opening up – that’s our local ski resort, a few miles south of the town site, and it usually opens in late November. Imagine skiing down steep mountainsides with trees flashing past on either side? It scared me when I first tried it, but now I love it.
I’ve thought a lot about our conversations since I got back to Jasper. Sorry if I treated you like a curiosity, but, if you’ll forgive me for saying so, I grew up with a very predictable type of guy, and you’re different, which was refreshing! I like to think that I’m not uptight, but a lot of the high school culture I grew up in was all about drinking and partying and coupling, and I was never really into that, even after I stopped going to church. Anyway, it was really nice to have some intelligent conversations of the sort that I don’t get with too many other guys except my brother, God love him!
But I need to ask you to forgive me for being too pushy; I don’t have the right to go charging into your private business, especially when it concerns your family. I guess I’ve been very, very lucky with my family; my mom and dad have always been warm and loving and completely supportive of everything I wanted to do. Even when I stopped going to church, which I know was hard for them, I never felt they were mad at me or saw me as a problem that they needed to fix. Why am I saying this? Well, I get the idea that there’s a lot of pain in your relationship with your family. I may be way off base here, in which case, I apologize, but I don’t think I am. And if I’m right, I’m sorry, Tom. If the time comes when you want to talk about it, I’ll be happy to listen, and I want to assure you that even though Joe says I never have an unspoken thought, one thing I never speak is the stories people tell me about themselves. That’s part of being a nurse, I guess. Okay, now I’ll back off, and it won’t be mentioned again between us unless you mention it.
As for Christianity – I think you’re right, I think I’m on my way back into it. I just don’t want to rush in and declare myself before I get answers to some of my questions. Not that I expect to get answers to all of them – Joe says I need to accept that life is full of mysteries, and I guess he’s probably right.
Are you interested? You sounded as if you were.
By the way, thanks for coming with me to visit Grandma Reimer. I’ve always gotten along well with all my grandparents, but for some reason I was closer to Dad’s parents than Mom’s – although Opa (that’s the German word for ‘Grandpa’ – we used to call them ‘Opa’ and ‘Oma’ when we were little) was a little more reserved and harder to get closer to. When we were little kids and living in Rosthern, we used to stay at their place when we went home to Meadowvale. They were still living out at the farm in those days. Rosthern’s not far, so we often just did day visits, but Joe and I sometimes went over for a week at a time in the summer, and we used to help Opa with farm chores – well, we called it ‘helping’, I’m not sure what he thought of it! We moved back to Meadowvale in 1965, and Opa and Oma left the farm and moved into town a year or two after that, I think.
I think Grandma Reimer liked you, anyway! And make sure you take her up on that offer of home-cooked meals; she’s a really good cook, and there’s nothing she likes more than spoiling her grandchildren and their friends (I think you already count as a friend, especially since you hang around with Mom and Dad so much).
Anyway, I’ll finish here and give you time to get over the surprise at hearing from me at all.
Nov. 3rd 1982
You’re right, I was surprised. Pleased, though. I’m glad you liked Penguin Eggs. Yes, it’s actually Nic’s fifth and most recent solo album. There are four others, called (in order of release), Ballads and Songs, Nic Jones, The Noah’s Ark Trap, and From the Devil to a Stranger. If you’re interested, I’ll see if I can get Owen to pick you up some copies in the UK. There seems to be some problem with getting these earlier albums now; I don’t really understand what it is. Sadly, Nic was involved in a car accident back in February this year; I understand he was very badly injured and it will be a miracle if he ever plays again. I’ve seen him live several times in Oxford; he was amazing.
As for what you said about my family – well, thank you. Yes, there are issues, and no, I’m not ready to talk about them yet. As you’ve already noticed, I’m not quite as up front as you are. Sorry! I’m sure you really don’t need me to tell you how lucky you are in your family. I did really enjoy spending time with your grandma, and will definitely take her up on her offer of a home-cooked meal before too long.
Jasper sounds great and I’d love to see it. Maybe I’ll get up there one of these days. I’m not sure I’ll be brave enough to try downhill skiing, though!
Well, I’ve sat and looked at the page for ten minutes now. I should just stop thinking and start writing.
Yes, I am interested. I can say with some confidence that I’ve attended church maybe twenty times in my life – once to be christened (which I don’t remember), once when my brother Rick was christened (which I don’t remember), once when Becca was christened (which I remember quite well) and then every year on Christmas Eve until I was about eighteen. I have to say that although I’m quite interested in history, the Church of England generally leaves me totally cold. But then, I know enough to wonder if it’s exactly what Jesus had in mind.
Like you, I tend to think that the balance of probability is on the side of the existence of a God of some kind. And like you, I find Jesus quite admirable. But I’ve got lots of questions. Whose picture of God is the right one? Plato’s? Muhammad’s? Moses’? Jesus’? The Pope’s? Yes, they have a lot in common, but there are differences, too. And as you said, it seems a bit arrogant to assume that the religion we happen to have been born into (well, I wasn’t really born into it, but I was born in a country with a Christian history) just happens to have got everything right about God.
But I can’t claim to have had experiences of God, as some people have. I wish I had. Maybe it would help me deal with the questions.
I do know that I’m totally done with the idea that wealth and success have anything to do with real life. I’ve seen that close up, and it just leaves me cold. As far as I can see it poisons people’s souls, wrecks their families and sets them in competition with each other when they should be helping each other out. Not that I want to live my life in poverty; far from it! I want to have a comfortable place to live and a meaningful job so that I can provide for my family (if I’m lucky enough to have one, one of these days). But I’ve seen what greed and avarice can do to people’s lives and I want none of it. If I’m interested in finding a spiritual dimension to life, it’s probably because I’ve seen how bankrupt a totally materialistic life can be.
Now I’ve surprised myself, because I’ve opened the door for you a bit wider than I thought I would. Shall I tear it up and start again? No, probably not.
We had a light dusting of snow here today too. Your dad tells me it will be here to stay in a few weeks.
Thanks for writing; I enjoyed your letter very much.
Nov. 6th 1982
I’m writing this in the delicatessen in the back of the Co-op on Saturday morning. I’ve taken to coming down here on Saturdays, having a coffee, and then doing my weekly shopping. A number of others have the same idea, so I see some familiar faces. Did I tell you that there are two coffee shops in this town? The other one is the ‘Travellers’ restaurant on the highway beside the Esso station; Will calls it the ‘greasy spoon’because it specializes in the sort of food that causes strokes and heart attacks. I’ve been up there a few times – Joe and I went up there one night for coffee and a chat. It’s full of farmers and truckers in work shirts and baseball caps, and they’ve all known each other all their lives, and when they see me coming in they look at me long and hard and wonder “Who can he possibly be related to in this town?!”Oh, and the coffee’s pretty bad up there, too! So I’ve made the Co-op deli my coffee shop. The drawback is that it’s only open when the Co-op’s open – grocery store hours – while the Travellers is open early in the morning and into the evening too.
Well, it’s snowing today. We had a slight dusting a couple of days ago – the sort of snowfall that melts when it hits the ground – but today it’s colder and it seems to be laying. Maybe this is the beginning of winter. It seems strange to think that back home people were burning bonfires and setting off fireworks last night. They don’t have Guy Fawkes’night in Canada. Not that I miss it; there are things I definitely miss about England, but I was never a big fan of Guy Fawkes’.
A church band? Only a few weeks ago I told Will I’d never heard of anyone playing hymns on guitar. Now you’ve made a liar out of me! Seriously, I hope you enjoy playing with them.
Surprisingly, I had a letter from Kelly. I introduced her to Nic Jones, and she got a copy of Penguin Eggs, which she really likes. Can you find out for me if it’s possible to track down the first four albums? She might be interested.
She certainly seems to be interested in exploring her Christian roots again, and she’s asked me to join her in that – or at least, she’s asked if I’m interested. She’s pretty forward, though, and you know what that does to me; my natural inclination is to back off and clam up. You and I both know that if I ever was to be attracted toward becoming a Christian, part of it would be out of anger toward my dad and the sort of life he lives. I just don’t know if I’m ready to talk with her about that, given that I hardly know her. And what would be the point of starting a spiritual journey with someone if you couldn’t be honest with them? And once I started talking about Dad, one thing would lead to another, and I’d end up saying a lot more than I wanted to.
Anyway, it’s not really fair to Jesus to adopt him so that I can spite my dad, is it?!!!
On another subject, I should mention that last Saturday I rode a horse for the first time in my life. Joe was the instigator. His Uncle Hugo – Will’s brother – has a farm up in Spruce Creek, about fifteen miles north of Meadowvale – you remember me telling you about going up there to help with the harvest a few weeks back? Well, there are some horses up there and apparently one of them is really Kelly’s horse. Joe was going up there to do some regular vet stuff with the horses and he asked me if I’d like to go up with him, it being a Saturday morning. So I went up with him, and he ended up giving me an impromptu riding lesson. I actually quite enjoyed it, although I found it rather terrifying as well. Unlike driving a car, you’ve got absolutely no power over this animal other than the power of persuasion!
Well, I’d better finish my coffee and do my weekly shopping. Thanks again for your letter, and please give my regards to your dad and mum.
P.S. How do you pray? What I mean is, how do you pray? I don’t know why I’ve never asked you this. I’m assuming that prayer is important to Christians. It seems to me like it would be a good sort of ‘field research’ if you were investigating Christianity, right?
Flat No. 3, 76 Albert Street,
Nov. 14th 1982
I’m writing this early on a Sunday morning; I’m not working at the hospital today, so I’m off to church, and our band is playing for the first time. We’ve done a lot of practicing and I think we’re sounding pretty good, but I suppose we’ll find out this morning.
I woke up pretty early, and I’m sitting writing to you with my first cup of tea of the day. After that I’ll pray, which brings me to your question: How do I pray?
I pray in two ways. I try to pray first thing in the morning, in a semi-disciplined sort of way, every day unless I accidentally sleep in. At least, that’s the ideal; I have to confess that I miss some days. And then I pray in a disorganized, ad hoc sort of way through the day when I feel the need of it.
In the morning I usually sit in my chair and have a couple of minutes of silence to start off with, just to orient myself into God’s presence. Then I like to read a passage from the Bible. I read in sequence so I don’t waste time choosing what to read on any given day, I just follow right on where I left off the day before. Quite often the passage will give me something to meditate on. Not always – sometimes it just confuses me, but if that happens I don’t let that bother me. Sometimes I’ll talk to God about what I’ve read.
After I’ve finished reading, I spend a few minutes praying in an informal sort of way. The three sorts of prayer I try to fit in are, first, thanksgiving – thanking God for all his blessings to me – second, confession – saying sorry for my sins, which I try to be specific about – and third, petition – that is, asking for things, for myself and for other people. I like to finish up with the Lord’s Prayer, in case I’ve forgotten anything important.
I should say that I recently read some things in a book by C.S. Lewis about a couple of good rules to follow when we pray. One is never to try to manufacture a religious emotion. It’s tough, because sometimes you read about mystics and others having amazing experiences of the nearness of God, and it can be tempting to try to make that happen. The problem is, the mystics never made it happen. Usually it took them by surprise. So I’m trying to remember to just say my prayers and leave the emotions in God’s hands. That’s a relief, actually; I do often get a sense of peace out of praying, but I don’t tend to have amazing mystical experiences.
The other rule Lewis followed was not to leave his prayers until bed time, which is of course the classic time to pray. That makes a lot of sense to me, because I’m a morning person too. You know how incoherent my letters to you can be when I write them last thing at night! Morning is my best time, so I try to give God my best time.
Like I said, I also pray in a disorganized, ad hoc sort of way during the day. This is entirely according to my sense of need. If I find myself thinking of a friend who needs help during the day, I pray for them. If I’m facing a difficult situation at work, I ask God for help.
I should say that, for variation on the first method, I sometimes go for a walk and pray. I can’t do the Bible reading part when I’m walking, but I like the sense of closeness to nature, especially if I can walk in Shotover Country Park.
Speaking of being outdoors – horseback riding! Next time I see you you’ll probably be a cowboy.
By the way, Lorraine and I have agreed that we’re now ‘going out’, as they say. The more I get to know her, the more I like her. One thing I’ve discovered about her that surprised me is that she’s quite interested in politics (not normally something you associate with water colour artists, is it?!). She’s rather scathing about Maggie, I must say. Still, so are you, as I recall!
Now, back to you and Kelly for a bit.
If you’re really interested in doing any sort of spiritual search, doing it together with someone else is always a good idea. Of course, you and I can always talk about this stuff, but it’s not the same as having a fellow-traveller who’s more or less at the same place you are. You and Kelly can help each other along the way, share your questions and the answers you find (or don’t find), and just generally support each other. And if you’re really going to do that, you’re going to have to take the risk of being honest with her about stuff, Tom. I know that’s a terrifying thought to you, but it sounds to me like she’s the sort of girl you can trust. So why not try opening up a little bit to her and see what happens?
Besides which, a girl who writes you an unexpected letter and likes Nic Jones has got to be good news, don’t you think?
Have you got plans for Christmas? I’m not naive enough to think you’d come back to England, but I wondered if you were going away anywhere?
Right, time to pray and then go get the band set up at church.
P.O. Box 373
November 23rd 1982
I’m on two days off. Yesterday Krista and I went downhill skiing for the first time this year (she was up here for a few days doing some field research for her caribou study, and of course she stayed with me). It was a beautiful clear cold day and the sun was shining on the snow, which always makes me feel happy. I had an amazing day. Now today Krista has just left, and I’m sitting having a mid-morning cup of tea in the living room, and thinking of you.
You said that you weren’t ready to talk about your family, and I told you that I would leave that door closed until you were ready to open it. But later on in your letter you did open it a little; you talked about being burned out on materialism, and knowing that it was a bankrupt way of life. You knew that you’d maybe opened the door a little wider than you’d meant to, but you decided not to tear up the letter – you sent it anyway. I’m going to take that as a sign that you’re ready to take a risk.
So I’m reading between the lines and guessing that your parents are the materialistic people you’re talking about – the people whose lives you see as being soul-less and barren. I’m guessing that one or both of them is very rich and successful, but that this has done tragic things to their family life – your family life, growing up – and that you don’t want anything like that to happen to you.
If I’m right, then I’d say that finding a spiritual dimension to your life is even more important for you. I don’t think you should try to avoid it out of fear that you might be over-reacting; you’re not. I’ve seen that sort of life too (thankfully, not in my own parents), and I think you’re right – it is barren.
One of the reasons that I’m searching for a closer relationship with God again is that I find the purely materialistic view of life completely unsatisfying. I’m told that I’m here totally by accident, that all my deepest emotions and aspirations are entirely explainable as a result of chemical reactions in my body, and instincts bred into me as a highly developed animal. I’m told that I arrived at a certain point in time, and that I’m programmed to survive and mate and produce children and all that, not because of love but because of the survival of the species, and that one day it will all come to its natural conclusion and they’ll bury what’s left of me in the ground and that’ll be the end of my story.
Well, my response to that is to ask, “What the hell’s the point?”If all love and all morality and all art and beauty are purely chemical phenomena – in other words, if they aren’t really morality and love and art and beauty at all, but just highly developed survival mechanisms – then all the deepest things we humans believe about life are a lie. How do you think that would have sounded to some of your literary heroes – Jane Austen, or J.R.R. Tolkien? Surely we can’t let reductionistic science have the last word here? There’s got to be more to life than that!
Anyway – getting back to your family and your experiences with them – if you have a sense that a spiritual sort of life would involve living simply, not piling up lots of possessions, and concentrating on stuff like love and compassion and justice, and actually doing things to make other people’s lives better, rather than just piling up more stuff for yourself – well, then I’d say, go for it. And by the way, I think Jesus’way is for you, because as I read the gospels, I find myself more and more convinced that he believed those things, too.
On another subject, I’m still listening to ‘Penguin Eggs’and loving it. Tell me some time how you came to get interested in this traditional folk music, will you? And tell me who some of the other artists are that I should be listening to. And I’ll tell you a few, too. Do you know Bruce Cockburn’s music? He’s a Canadian songwriter and an amazing guitar player (and I know you enjoy good guitarists). His last couple of albums have gone more in an electric direction, but his earlier ones were heavily based on acoustic guitar – fingerstyle, is that what you call it when a person plays tunes on the strings instead of just strumming? When I come home for Christmas I’ll try to remember to bring a few albums with me so you can listen to them, if you’re not already familiar with him.
Speaking of Christmas, I’m working Christmas Day (which is a Saturday) and then I’ll be driving home on Boxing Day and staying in Meadowvale for a week. Are you going to be around? I hope so!
Take care, Tom, and I’ll see you soon.
Nov. 27th 1982
Thanks for your letter which arrived yesterday. I’m sitting in the Co-op deli on a Saturday morning; I’ve taken to getting up, going for an early morning walk, and then coming down here to have a coffee, write a letter or two, and then do my weekly shopping. Usually I’m writing a letter to Owen, and sometimes my mum, but today it’s you.
That was an outstanding letter, by the way. Thank you.
I found the bit about needing to discover a spiritual dimension to life to counteract the materialistic, soul-less view especially compelling. You’re right; whether or not Christianity turns out to be the right religion for me, I know I need to find out if there is a way to live in contact with my Creator. And yes, I do find the purely materialistic account of life totally unconvincing; it makes a nonsense of all the most important things human beings – or most human beings, I should say – believe in.
Your instinct is partially right, and I’m going to take the risk and open the door up a bit. This is not easy for me to do, because I tend to be a private person, as you’ve already discovered.
It was my dad, not my mum, who soured me on the life of wealth and success. My dad’s a lawyer and he’s devoted his life to his profession. I didn’t realize that I was experiencing an unusual sort of life until I met Owen Foster and got to know his family; Owen’s mum and dad are very warm, family-oriented people, and Mr. Foster is always doing things with his kids (Owen’s the oldest of four – his siblings are Steve, Anna, and Fiona). My dad, not so much. He works long hours, every day except Sunday, and he spends Sunday in his garden. When he did get involved in our lives as kids it was to push us toward the sort of life he had planned for us. He was determined that I would be a lawyer, and when I was young he refused to contemplate any other sort of life for me. We fought about that for several years when I was a teenager; Owen called it ‘The Great War’. It ended up in a long shouting match in October in my last year of high school. My mum eventually intervened and told Dad he should let me become a teacher, since that was my dream. He was really, really angry – at her and at me – but he gave in and let me study English. Still, he tried a few times during my university years to point me in the direction of law, and then after he started to realize I wasn’t going to budge, he switched to trying to steer me toward teaching jobs in the ‘right’ sort of schools – you know, ones in upper middle class areas, full of the children of doctors and lawyers and bankers and stockbrokers and Conservative Party politicians! So I gradually came to realize that if I stayed in England it would be very difficult for me to live the sort of life I wanted to live – he’d always be trying to control me and remake me in his image. That’s why I decided to leave Oxford and England and emigrate. Like I told you at your mum and dad’s, I had a friend at college from Canada, and he told me that little towns like Meadowvale were always looking for teachers. That’s how I came to apply for the job here.
Kelly, please do not breathe a word of this to your mum and dad. I’ll tell them one of these days, but I’m just not ready for it to be public knowledge, okay? The wound is still very raw. I haven’t told you everything; I’ll tell you more at Christmas time. I’ll probably tell Joe, too; he’s been coming over for coffee and we’ve had a few good chats. He took me horseback riding the other week – another new and scary experience for me, but I ended up quite enjoying it!
Getting back to Dad, I mentioned this to Owen the other week in a letter and I said I didn’t think it was fair on Jesus to turn to him to spite my dad! But your letter helped me there; you helped me see that I’d be moving toward the Christian way out of hunger for something I hadn’t found in my dad’s way of life, not necessarily because I wanted to spite him. Thank you for that.
My mum, I should say, is an outstanding person. Like I told you, she’s a classically trained pianist and she taught me to play the piano when I was young. She was the one who taught me to enjoy the outdoors as well. She’s always encouraged me, and I like to think that we’re close. My sister Becca – well, we used to be close, but things have taken a bad turn. I’ll tell you more face to face, perhaps. My brother Rick and I were close as little boys, but we’ve been distant for years.
I envy you that your best friends are extended family members. I know it upset my mum, but I think I turned away from that in my teens. Owen became my closest friend, and in a sense, I guess his dad became a sort of father-figure for me. Rick and Becca and I are close to our Auntie Brenda and Uncle Roy – Auntie Brenda is Mum’s only sister, and they have no children – but apart from that, we haven’t had much to do with our extended family.
Speaking of Owen, he’s going to look up those other Nic Jones albums for you. When you’re here at Christmas you should come over to my place and I’ll play you some other traditional folk albums and introduce you to artists you might enjoy. And yes, I’ll be happy to listen to Bruce Cockburn; I’ve never heard of him, but you’re right, I always enjoy good guitarists (especially acoustic guitarists).
I’ve got no plans to go away at Christmas. I’ll look forward to seeing you. Somehow I expect that a few family dinners at your mum and dad’s will figure quite prominently in my Christmas holidays!
See you soon, Kelly, and thanks for another really enjoyable letter.
P.O. Box 373
December 4th 1982
I worked a twelve-hour shift today, so I’m feeling a little owlish tonight. But I picked up your letter on my way home from work yesterday, and I’ve been thinking about it all day. Thank you, by the way, for taking the risk to open the door a little more for me; I don’t take that trust lightly.
As I read your letter I realized yet again how lucky I am to have the sort of parents I do. It was good for me to remember this, because sometimes I can get nitpicky about little things, but then I think about friends whose parents have broken up and gone through painful divorces, or people who’ve had distant or overbearing parents, like yourself with your dad. I don’t know what to say, Tom, except that I’m sorry.
I don’t know how much Joe might have told you about our home. As I said, Joe and Krista and I were born in Rosthern. Dad graduated from university in 1954, and that summer he and Mom got married and moved to Rosthern, which is where he started out as a teacher. He worked there for eleven years, and of course during that time Joe was born in ’56, me in ’58, and Krista in ’60. We’re all Fall kids, by the way; Joe’s birthday is September 8th, mine is September 16th, and Krista’s December 5th (tomorrow, in fact). Mom didn’t work outside the home when we were kids; she didn’t start studying to be a bookkeeper until Krista started school, and even then, she never worked more than half time. So we didn’t have a lot of luxuries when we were growing up, but then, neither did anyone else we knew.
Like I told you before, in those days Opa and Oma Reimer were still farming the land where Uncle Hugo and Auntie Millie live now, and we often went to visit them on weekends, with longer visits in the summer – all of us together, or just us kids (well, Joe and me, anyway – Krista was a little too young). Uncle Hugo was working alongside Opa in those days; he and Auntie Millie had built the place they live in now in about 1955, I think. Opa and Oma lived on the other side of the yard – not in the old homestead, which had been knocked down a long time ago, but in another place Opa built back in the 1940s; it’s gone now, of course. Joe and I usually stayed at Opa and Oma’s even though there was more room at Hugo and Millie’s. I guess those trips were when we got really close to Hugo and Millie’s kids, which is probably why, to this day, Corey is Joe’s best friend and Brenda is one of mine. And after we moved back to Meadowvale in 1965, of course, we saw even more of them.
The other thing we used to do in the summer was go camping, usually up here in Jasper, which is how I first fell in love with this place. We were tent campers, and we usually came up here for at least a week every summer, sometimes longer. Dad and Mom took us out hiking at a very young age and of course we’d all learned to ride at the farm, so we did trail rides as well. Dad would always bring his guitar along and in the evening he’d get us singing around the camp fire, although by the time we were teenagers we were kind of embarrassed about that. You know Dad, he’s got a sort of George Jones kind of voice, and a knack for making every song into a country song. Nowadays I find it kind of comfortable and homey, but when I was a teenager it was – well, you can guess, I think!
I’ve heard of kids who were brought up in Christian homes who had strict rules they had to follow, with parents who tried to scare them with hellfire and damnation. My mom and dad were never like that. They were pretty clear that being a Christian was all about love, and they really modelled that for us. It wasn’t that we were never disciplined – we were – but we were never put down or yelled at; in fact, I very rarely saw either of my parents lose their temper, although occasionally they did. They used to do a little Bible reading and prayer time after supper each night – just something short, so that we didn’t get bored – and of course they took us to church on Sundays every week, which I usually enjoyed, although it was a little boring sometimes. But when I look back on it now I realize that I really had very little to rebel against. As I’ve told you, my doubts about Christianity started because of intellectual questions – scientific issues, doctrines that didn’t make sense to me, and things in the Bible that bothered me – not because I found anything wanting in Mom and Dad’s way of life.
I’m not really sure why I’m telling you this, Tom, except that you wrote a little about your home life and it got me thinking about mine – and, as Joe says, I rarely have an unspoken thought! But maybe it’s also because I’d like to think we’re already friends, and I think friends ought to know a little about each other’s families and past history and all that.
Okay, I’m really tired now, so I’m going to bring this to a close. I expect we won’t write to each other again before I’m home for Christmas. My plans are still to drive home on Boxing Day, weather permitting, and to stay for a week. Take care, Tom, and I’ll see you soon.
Dec. 4th 1982
No, no plans for Christmas; I expect I’ll just stay around here, or maybe go into Saskatoon for a day. I went down there last weekend to do a bit of Christmas shopping for folks back home – including you, of course!
It’s really snowy today. I think I told you last time I wrote that we’d had a snowfall; well, for the past week it’s been coming down every day, and it’s about a foot high around my house now. It’s cold too; the temperature this morning is sitting at about minus 18ºC, and it’s supposed to get colder in the next few days. Will tells me that we’ll have a few weeks of minus 30-35ºC before the winter is out. Most people are wearing down jackets, although the kids from town don’t tend to wear them as much. The kids who bus in from the country do – I suppose their parents don’t want to risk the bus going off the road and the kids not having proper warm clothing. I’ve mentioned, haven’t I, that our school draws kids from farms for miles around? Our local population is about two thousand in town, and another three or four thousand living out on farms in the ‘R.M.’ (‘regional municipality’) of Meadowvale.
Things are getting busy at school now. The term (‘semester’) system is a little different here; there are two semesters, not three, with the first one running from early September to the end of January. Also, they don’t have ‘O’ and ‘A’ levels like we did, with exams on two years’ worth of studies; they have exams at the end of every semester and if they pass, that earns them ‘credits’ toward their high school graduation. So we’re about two thirds of the way through the first semester now, but of course Christmas is coming and there are a number of activities planned. Will is trying to twist my arm to help out with a Christmas concert, although I keep telling him that I’ve never sung in a choir, let alone helped lead one! But somehow I don’t think I’m going to win this one; Will can be very persuasive. And as you know, part of my job is teaching drama, and we’re doing a play as well, so that’s taking up some time.
Speaking of the Reimers, I’m still having quite a bit of contact with Joe and Kelly. Joe and I have fallen into the habit of having coffee together a couple of times a week, and sometimes his cousin Corey joins us; Corey is the son of Hugo and Millie Reimer, who I think I mentioned to you before; they have the old Reimer family farm out at Spruce Creek. Corey’s an accountant; he has a little place of his own in town, but he seems to spend a lot of time out at Hugo and Millie’s. He and Joe are not just cousins but also very good friends. I really like them both.
As for Kelly, well, I took your advice and opened up a bit in the last letter I wrote to her, telling her some things about Dad and my differences with him. She’d made an interesting point in her last letter to me. Remember I told you that it would hardly be fair to adopt Jesus as a way of spiting my dad? Well, she pointed out that it’s not so much ‘spiting’ as the fact that I was hungry for something that I hadn’t found in his way of life. She said that it was obviously even more important that I find some sort of spiritual dimension to my life, and that I shouldn’t be put off by the fear of overreacting. She also said that she thought the values I was looking for corresponded pretty well with the values of Jesus, which surprised me a bit. I’ve never really read enough about Jesus to know for certain what his values might be; I only know what I’ve heard in my occasional visits to church, or school assemblies, or in my conversations with you.
By the way, thanks for what you told me about praying; I like the idea of praying while you’re walking. I’m in the habit of going for an early morning walk each day (yes, there have been some pretty frosty mornings lately!), and I’ve been trying to pray for a few minutes each time I go out, remembering your three divisions of thanksgiving, confession, and petition. I can’t say that I’ve really felt any sense of closeness to God yet, but I’m also trying to remember what you said about not trying to manufacture a religious emotion. I can see that it would be easy to do this, so that religious experience became some sort of wish-fulfilment. I wouldn’t want to delude myself about this. I can’t help hoping, though, that at some point God does – well – that he lets me know that he’s there, you know!
Actually, come to think of it, I did have something happen while I was praying a few days ago. But I need to back up and tell you that I had a letter from my dad last week; apparently Mum had been trying to get him to write to me. I wish he hadn’t bothered; his letter was just a rehash of all the arguments we’ve ever had – how he thinks I made a big mistake by not going into the Law, but even if I was going to be a teacher, I should have stayed in England and tried for a job at a public school rather than working in the state system, etc. etc. And of course, he’s still furious that I didn’t tell them I was leaving for Canada until two weeks before I made the move, and that I lied to them about having a job in Reading (you were right, by the way – I should have been open with them right from the start, even though I know he would have tried to stop me. If I’d followed your advice I wouldn’t have messed things up with Becca the way I have). He finished off by telling me that I was ‘a foolish romantic’, that I had showed no gratitude at all to him for all the money he put into my education, and that he was very disappointed in me, particularly because I had deceived him.
Well, by the time I was finished reading the letter I was just as angry and upset as I was the day I last saw him. I was going to send him a nasty reply, but then I thought, no, I’ll just ignore him, at least for now. If he thinks that’s what ‘building bridges’ looks like, there isn’t much hope for us, but then, there never has been, has there? And since then I’ve – well, I’ve mentioned the letter a couple of times when I’ve been out walking and praying – maybe even ranted about it a bit – and even though God hasn’t talked to me or anything, I felt a bit better afterwards, or at least, not so bad. Sort of like what you said when you mentioned that sometimes you felt a sense of peace after you prayed. I don’t think I quite got as far as peace, but I caught a whiff of it, anyway, and it smelled pretty good, I have to say.
As for the Bible – well, I don’t really feel confident enough to read it right now. Maybe when Kelly comes home for Christmas I’ll ask her about it, or maybe I’ll talk to Joe at some point.
Have you seen my mum lately? She writes to me once a week, and I always try to give her a page or two back. I write to Becca too, but of course I hear nothing from her, or from Rick.
Well, I’d better finish, as the deli is getting busy and I’ve got a letter from Mum to answer as well. Hope you’re doing well and that things are ‘proceeding satisfactorily’ with Lorraine.