My family spent entire summers at Sylvan Lake when I was growing up. Mom and Dad had purchased a 16-foot trailer before I was even born, so the older three kids were already used to sardining into it by the time I came along. It was hot, cramped and basic – and it provided a base from which unbelievably happy memories grew.
Dad was still busy working all summer at The General Hospital, so he would drive up from Calgary after work on Fridays and leave after dinner on Sundays. He would even pick up at least one other kid to spend the weekend with us. Sometimes those kids would stay for the whole week and Dad would cart them home the following Sunday. Imagine it! Four kids of your own and other people’s kids all piled into that tiny space for days and weeks on end. My mother was a saint!
I used to watch Dad leave and think how sad he must feel as he pulled away on Sunday evenings, but he sure did seem to high-tail it out of there! Waving and smiling, likely thinking of the quiet week ahead with just work to pull at him. For us, there were long and carefree days stretched ahead as far as we could see. We spent them at the lakeside, of course, on the massive beach that used to surround the water. The odd time we stopped at the bakery for Sylvan Lakers (that’s what we called them, anyway) and once each summer we got to splurge on hamburgers at Hanigans.
Seriously, now that I’m strolling down memory lane, I believe I remember when Sylvan had wooden sidewalks. I believe we walked on wooden sidewalks to the old movie theatre to see Mary Poppins when it first came out! There was no TV or radio, no internet. I don’t even think there was a bathroom in the trailer! But that could just be my memory slipping.
Our rudimentary summer dwelling certainly didn’t do us any harm. We were so happy just filling the time. Rainy days draped over one another with colouring books or board games or reading. Snakes and Ladders gave way to Trivial Pursuit and finally to card games for money (okay, it was gambling). The dance hall days took hold for us and brought with it all kinds of shenanigans. And still that old trailer enveloped us as we all grew up.
When my sister asked me to join them for a day at the lake last week, all these memories came flooding back. We shared a picnic lunch on the grassy shore and laughed at how far people still have to walk into the lake before it gets over their knees. We all jumped on floaty toys and shot each other with water guns. We laughed and reminisced about all the things that occurred through the decades on this very spot. And we commented, as we often do, about what life would be like if our parents had bought a little old lakefront cabin instead of a little old trailer!
Sandy Bexon is stepping into retirement after over 35 years as a communications professional, reporter and writer. She lives in Red Deer.
