My nephew owns an old school cabin close to the beach area in Sylvan Lake. It is a recreational property that he purchased so that he and his young family could enjoy year round access to the lake.
The best part about their place is that he plans to retain all of the structure and atmosphere of the original cabin. Simply put, he has no plans to run a Cat through the place and build a new “cabin” on the site.
He has upgraded the plumbing and electrical components to meet new codes and his own standards as a Calgary firefighter and concerned-for-safety family man, but everything else will follow the philosophy of the elusive summer place in Percy Faith’s song of the same name.
My nephew will have screen doors front and back that slam shut with the old springs that were a part of the cabin culture in a bygone summer holiday era. His wife will sew curtains for the place that will capture the period look of the 1950s and all of the modern windows will open upwards like they did in the old days.
They even plan to put curtains on the cupboards to add to the old school ambience and the walls will be decorated with memorabilia typically found in vacation cabins in the old summer holiday cabin era. The siding will be replaced in a colour and style that is also age-appropriate for the cabin and the extra buildings on his property.
I have nothing but admiration for my nephew’s game plan, which is built around the preservation of a dying concept in Sylvan Lake: the extended life of one of the original cabins that were a fundamental part of the area just off Lakeshore Drive. Plus he and his family have done almost all of the work themselves, stopping short of 100 per cent hands-on only because of issues that require certified tradesmen for their safe and legal completion.
Many of the cabins in this area of the lake have already gone the way of finned cars and skinny kids who were not hooked up to a social network/texting lifeline. The remaining cabins face an uncertain future because they are no longer among their humble peers in the neighbourhood.
The awkward imbalance between large look-alike earth-toned new home-clones and small original cabins next door will be grimly resolved in the future — the old cabins will be wiped clean from the neighbourhood.
Something will be lost when this day comes because the quintessential summer cabin experience will be gone forever.
The cabins were never supposed to be more than a simple shelter with a rustic feel to them for their primarily summer inhabitants. The essence of a summer holiday was found in the old cabins that were basic functional temporary homes that did not have all of the amenities of the primary suburban home back in the real world.
The small cabins were filled with second string furniture and appliances that were important to the cabin experience because they didn’t work as well as the first string stuff at home.
Maybe the toaster burned bread if you didn’t watch it, maybe the stove burned wood instead of kilowatts or maybe the cabin had a radio instead of a TV. You were at the lake for a summer holiday and that was the big ticket item in the entire equation.
The screen door has slammed for the last time on the old cabins at the lake. As I watch them disappear, I can’t help but mourn their loss and applaud my nephew for preserving a bygone era in that town that he was just old enough to appreciate from his own childhood vacations at the lake.
Jim Sutherland is a local freelance writer. He can be reached at jim@mystarcollectorcar.com</i?