Eleanor Deckert
Once and only once Bill Payne dropped in to our home.
With a preschooler, a toddler and a baby, I was a little busy. I tuned out his voice and my husband’s as they swapped stories, information and laughter. I scrambled in my mind as to what I could possibly prepare on short notice to offer lunch to an unexpected guest. And one of special significance.
My husband, then in his early 30’s, new to the mountains and eager to learn about snowmobiles, trapping, topography, history, World War II, and survival skills, listened intently to all the firefighting, parachuting, mountain man stories Bill Payne had to share. Together, they had spent snowy days on the mountain and had a bond of mutual trust and the kind of older man-younger man friendship that is valued and rare.
It must have been at this July-August-time of year, because I remember that I was blanching small carrots thinned from the ever-growing mid-summer rows. As I dipped out the last batch of swimming orange roots, I realized the water might make a flavourful soup base. Quickly adding chunks of left over roast beef, diced potatoes and chopped green beans, lastly adding some of the baby carrots, I called the menfolk to the table.
“That’s a mighty fine mulligan!” was our guest’s response to this hasty but tasty bowl of soup.
It seems to me that two things last on from that day: 1) I never want to be caught without refreshments for an unexpected guest. 2) Carrot thinnings will ever remind me of this special friend.
Once a year, for the past five years, Father Sasges has dropped in to our home.
With an empty nest now and a very casual lifestyle, I am never really busy, yet still taken by surprise by an unexpected guest. Even one of special significance. This year his visit was a month ago, as he travelled north to return to Blue River and Valemount for his July-August weeks of blueberry picking and re-connecting with his former parishioners. His residence has a view of the sunrise over the crown-like mountains which is an amazing place to offer morning prayers.
Happily, lunch was easy to offer and as our voices shared events of the past year, travels, projects, problems and successes, I savoured the bond of trust and friendship which we have had and he shares with so very many others over a life-time of service in our valley.
With a twinkle in his eye, he wordlessly placed a cherry in my hand, drawn from his vest pocket.
“Be at peace!” were his departing words.
Father Sasges passed away on Aug. 5, 2014.
It seems to me that many details will be remembered, but two stand out that will last from that day:
1) Tell the people you care about that you love them. You never know when will be the last time you see each other. 2) Every time I eat a cherry I will hear his voice, “Be at peace.”
